Order was at last restored. The people resumed their seats and, amid a silence so profound that the dropping of a pin might almost have been heard, Tom told his story, leaving no doubt in the mind of any one that he was telling the truth. His cowardice, which increased as matters grew more complicated, was dwelt upon at length. The particulars of Paul’s escape narrated; his vow on the Bible to give himself up if Paul were convicted; his telling Elithe what he meant to do, and his sorrow that he had not done it in the first instance.
When his story was finished Miss Hansford’s “Glory to God” was lost amid the deafening hurrahs for Tom. With an imperative gesture of both hands he stopped the din and said, “Paul Ralston is innocent. I am the man, so help me Heaven; but I had no intention to kill. I am an infernal sneak and coward and liar,—that’s all,—and enough, too. Arrest me as soon as you please. Handcuff me, if you want to. I deserve it and more.”
“Never, never! we protest,” came like a hoarse roar from a hundred throats, mingled with a savage growl from Sherry, who had gone over to Tom, by whom he stood protestingly, as if knowing he was the one now needing sympathy.
With the “Never! we protest,” a movement was made to close around Tom and screen him from harm, had any been intended. But there was none. He was as free to leave the house as Paul was himself, after a form was gone through by judge and jury, and a verdict of “Not guilty!” returned. Then for a time pandemonium reigned. Had there been a cry of fire the confusion could not have been greater, as those in the rear of the building struggled to get to the front, while those in the front kept them back. They did not trample each other down, but they crowded the aisles until it was impossible to move, and walked over the seats in their eager haste to get to Paul and Tom, whose hands were grasped and shaken until Tom put his behind him, but stood erect, with Sherry beside him. When the “Not guilty!” was pronounced Judge Ralston got up slowly, groping as if he could not see, and saying to those beside him, “Lead me to the door.”
They thought he meant to say, “Lead me to Paul,” and started that way.
“No, no; to the door,” he said. “His mother must know it at once!”
They took him to the door, where some men and boys were standing, who had not been able to get into the house.
“Somebody,—who can drive—my horses—go as fast as they can—and tell Mrs. Ralston Paul is free!” he said.
In an instant a great scramble ensued among the boys, each contending for the honor of driving the spirited blacks. Max Allen had heard the request, and so had the prosecuting attorney, and both entered the carriage together, with a feeling that they had a right to carry the good tidings to the mother, whose every breath that long day had been a prayer for her son, and for strength to bear the worst if it came. With an exclamation of delight, the housemaid, who first received the news, rushed to her mistress’ room.
“Joy, joy! He’s free! He will be home to-night!” she cried, with the result that Mrs. Ralston fainted.