The ways of the hour

by James Fenimore Cooper

Another important question was to be asked by the jury. If Mary Monson did not commit these crimes, who did? It had been suggested that the house might have taken fire by accident, and that the ploughshare was the real cause of the death of its owners. If this were so, did the ploughshare remove the money?—did the ploughshare put the notched piece in Mary Monson’s purse?

Such is an outline of the manner in which the District Attorney reasoned on the facts. His summing up made a deep impression; the moderation of the manner in which he pressed the guilt of the accused, telling strongly against her. Nothing was said of aristocracy, or harps, or manners, or of anything else that did not fairly belong to the subject. A great deal more was said, of course; but we do not conceive it necessary to advert to it.

The charge was exceedingly impartial. The judge made a full exposition of all the testimony, pointed out its legitimate bearing, and dissected its weak points. As for the opinion of McBrain and his associates, the court conceived it entitled to a great deal of consideration. Here were several highly respectable professional men testifying that, in their judgment, both the skeletons were those of females. The German woman was missing. What had become of her? In any case, the disappearance of that woman was very important. She may have committed the crimes, and absconded; or one of the skeletons may have been hers. It was in evidence that Peter Goodwin and his wife did not live always in the most happy mood; and he may have laid hands on the money, which was probably his in the eyes of the law, and left the place. He had not been seen since the fire. The jury must take all the facts into their consideration, and decide according to their consciences.

This charge was deemed rather favourable to the accused than otherwise. The humanity of the judge was conspicuous throughout; and he leaned quite obviously to Dunscomb’s manner of treating the danger of Mary Monson from the flames, and dwelt on the fact that the piece of money was not sufficiently watched to make out an absolute case of identity. When he had done, the impression was very general that the prisoner would be acquitted.

As it was reasonably supposed that a case of this importance would detain the jury a considerable time, the court permitted the prisoner to withdraw. She left the place, attended by her two friends; the latter in tears, while Mary herself was still seemingly unmoved. The thoughtful Mrs. Gott had prepared refreshments for her; and, for the first time since her trial commenced, the fair prisoner ate heartily.

“I shall owe my triumph, not to money, my dear girls,” she said, while at table, “not to friends, nor to a great array of counsel; but to truth. I did not commit these crimes; and on the testimony of the State alone, with scarcely any of my own, the jury will have to say as much. No stain will rest on my character, and I can meet my friends with the unclouded brow of innocence. This is a very precious moment to me; I would not part with it for all the honours that riches and rank can bestow.”

“How strange that you, of all women, my dear mamma,” said Anna, kissing her cheek, “should be accused of crimes so horrible to obtain a little money; for this poor Mrs. Goodwin could have had no great sum after all, and you are so rich!”

“More is the pity that I have not made a better use of my money. You are to be envied, girls, in having the fortunes of gentlewomen, and in having no more. I do believe it is better for our sex barely to be independent in their respective stations, and not to be rendered rich. Man or woman, money is a dangerous thing, when we come to consider it as a part of our natural existence; for it tempts us to fancy that money’s worth gives rights that nature and reason both deny. I believe I should have been much happier, were I much poorer than I am.”

“But those who are rich are not very likely to rob!”

“Certainly not, in the sense that you mean, my dear. Send Marie Moulin on some errand, Anna; I wish to tell you and Sarah what I think of this fire, and of the deaths for which I am now on trial.”