Then suddenly, in the midst of the turbulence, he felt the encouraging warmth of a friend's hand, and looking up, saw Judge Houston's broad back passing on towards the jury room.
Jacob Phelps lay forward on the table, his face buried in his outstretched hands. Beyond him stood Jervais, facing the hushed courtroom, with a countenance livid with fury.
Turning to see the cause of such an expression, Sargent looked for the first time into the sea of faces, pale and still, yet gazing at him with glowing eyes that told him their admiration and wonder. He understood their silence, and thrilled under the depths of feeling that kept them speechless. In that moment he knew that the commencement of his career was a triumph.
And while he stood with every nerve in his body tingling responsively to his blind joy, the jury re-entered the room and took their seats, and Judge Houston's voice rang out loud and sonorous.
"Jacob Phelps! Stand up!"
Phelps lifted his bowed head, his eyes roving furtively over the crowd of staring faces. Moving slightly, with the expression of one who is dazed into semi-consciousness, he stared back into the sea of faces—not one expression of kindness, of sympathy, of friendship for him was in that entire throng. Then, with the dull look of one who has relinquished all hope, he wheeled and faced the judge.
"Jacob Phelps, you have been judged, and convicted of murder—the highest crime known to the laws of the State of Mississippi. Have you anything to say, or any reason to give why the sentence of the law should not be pronounced upon you?"
In the breathless stillness there came a pause. Phelps did not answer. Again the judge's voice filled the courtroom.
"Then nothing now remains but the performance of my painful duty. The sentence of the law and the judgment of the Court is that you be taken hence to the jail of Adams County, and there safely confined until Thursday, the twentieth day of June, 1833, when between the hours of ten o'clock in the morning and noon, you be taken into the jail yard; and there, by the Sheriff of this County, you be hanged by the neck until you are dead—and may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!"
CHAPTER VI