“We soon learn as much in this country—but the gaols are made for the public, and the harps ought to be privileged in them, as well as in other public places.”
“I don’t know how it is—I’m not very good at reasoning—but, somehow or another, the neighbours don’t like that Mary Monson should play on the harp; or even on the piano, situated as she is. I do wish, Mr. Wilmington, you could give her a hint on the subject?”
“Shall I tell her that the music is unpleasant to you?”
“As far from that as possible! I delight in it; but the neighbours do not. Then she never shows herself at the grate, to folks outside, like all the other prisoners. The public wants to see and to converse with her.”
“You surely could not expect a young and educated female to be making a spectacle of herself, for the gratification of the eyes of all the vulgar and curious in and about Biberry!”
“Hush—Mr. Wilmington, you are most too young to take care of such a cause. ’Squire Timms, now, is a man who understands Duke’s county, and he would tell you it is not wise to talk of the vulgar hereabouts; at least not until the verdict is in. Besides, most people would think that folks have a right to look at a prisoner in the common gaol. I know they act as if they thought so.”
“It is hard enough to be accused and confined, without subjecting the party to any additional degradation. No man has a right to ask to look at Miss Monson, but those she sees fit to receive, and the officials of the law. It would be an outrage to tolerate mere idle curiosity.”
“Well, if you think so, Mr. Wilmington, do not let everybody know it. Several of the clergy have either been here, or have sent to offer their visits, if acceptable.”
“And what has been the answer?” demanded Jack, a little eagerly.
“Mary Monson has received all these offers as if she had been a queen! politely, but coldly; once or twice, or when the Methodist and the Baptist came, and they commonly come first, I thought she seemed hurt. Her colour went and came like lightning. Now, she was pale as death—next, as bright as a rose—what a colour she has at times, Mr. Wilmington! Duke’s is rather celebrated for rosy faces; but it would be hard to find her equal when she is not thinking.”