Addison.
Bench, bar, jury, witnesses and audience, were all astounded.[astounded.] The trial had been carried on in the most perfect good faith; and not a human being but the few who had felt the force of McBrain’s testimony, doubted of the death of the individual who now appeared alive, if not well, in open court. The reader can better imagine than we can describe, the effects of a resurrection so entirely unexpected.
When the confusion naturally produced by such a scene had a little subsided; when all had actually seen, and many had actually felt, the supposed murdered man, as if to assure themselves of his being really in the flesh, order was restored; and the court and bar began to reflect on the course next to be pursued.
“I suppose, Mr. District Attorney,” observed his honour, “there is no mistake in the person of this individual; but it were better if we had an affidavit or two. Will you walk this way, sir?”
A long, private conference, now took place between the public prosecutor and the judge. Each expressed his astonishment at the result, as well as some indignation at the deception which had been practised on the court. This indignation was a little mollified by the impression, now common to both, that Mary Monson was a person not exactly in her right mind. There was so much deception practised among persons accused of crimes, however, and in connection with this natural infirmity, that public functionaries like themselves were necessarily very cautious in admitting the plea. The most offensive part of the whole affair was the discredit brought on the justice of Duke’s! It was not in nature for these individuals to be insensible to the sort of disgrace the reappearance of Peter Goodwin entailed on the county and circuit; and there was a very natural desire to wipe off the stain. The conference lasted until the affidavits to establish the facts connected with Goodwin’s case were ready.
“Had these affidavits been presented earlier,” said his honour, as soon as the papers were read, “sentence would not have been pronounced. The case is novel, and I shall want a little time to reflect on the course I am to take. The sentence must be gotten rid of by some means or other; and it shall be my care to see it done. I hope, brother Dunscomb, the counsel for the accused have not been parties to this deception?”
“I am as much taken by surprise as your honour can possibly be,” returned the party addressed, with earnestness, “not having had the most remote suspicion of the existence of the man said to have been murdered; else would all the late proceedings have been spared. As to the course to be taken next, I would respectfully suggest that the Code be examined. It is an omnium gatherum; and must contain something to tell us how to undo all we have done.”
“It were better for all parties had they so been. There are still two indictments pending over Mary Monson; one for the arson, and the other for the murder of Dorothy Goodwin. Mr. District Attorney feels the necessity of trying these cases, or one of them at least, in vindication of the justice of the State and county; and I am inclined to think that, under all the circumstances, this course should be taken. I trust we shall have no more surprises, and that Dorothy Goodwin will be brought forward at once, if still living—time is precious.”
“Dorothy Goodwin is dead,” said Mary Monson, solemnly. “Poor woman! she was called away suddenly, and in her sins.[sins.] Little fear of her ever coming here to flout your justice.”
“It may be well to caution your client, Mr. Dunscomb, against hasty and indiscreet admissions. Let the accused be arraigned, and a jury be empannelled. Which case do you choose to move on, Mr. District Attorney?”