"Oh, yes. A good, sharp lawyer, from New York. I know of one that's up to all the dodges. He gets lots of the fellers off. He'd clear me, I'm sure of it."
"And you do not see God's hand driving you here and giving you up to man's justice? You think to contend against His will? To employ a lawyer who shall shield you from the fate He has decreed? Foolish and unhappy boy! you have sown and the day of harvest is nigh; the harvest for both of us: for you the full sheaf of ripe dishonor and death; for me the gleaning of bitter shame and grief. And to the Lord of this harvest we may neither of us say 'nay.'"
As he spoke he arose from the cot, where he had taken a seat early in the interview, stood before his son, and continued:
"It is not probable that I shall ever see you again. In due course of time you will be tried, convicted, and hanged, and I shall hear of it all: that will be enough for me. As far as other people will allow me to, I shall endeavor to forget that I ever had a son. You have simply to continue, as for years past, so far as affection or respect for his counsels were concerned, in forgetting that you have a father. Send me no gallows-tree messages of penitence and love. Carry your penitence, if you have any, to your God; and may He, in his infinite knowledge and justice, grant you such mercy and pardon as you deserve."
With this farewell, the wretched father took his departure, preserving his sternness of demeanor as long as he was in his son's sight; but in the jail office without, he gave way to his natural grief, which he could repress no longer, and much time elapsed ere he recovered himself sufficiently to go home. Silas, left alone in his cell, threw himself upon his bed, on his face, alternately weeping, cursing, and praying, in a delirium of remorse and fear, and no sound of stealthy footsteps leaving the adjoining dungeon reached his ears.
XXV.
THE LESSON OF PETER VAN DEUST'S LIFE.
Immediately upon the opening of the court, the morning after Silas Thatcher's arrest, the prosecuting attorney arose and made a neat little speech, in which he admitted his conviction that an error had been made in the accusation of Dorn Hackett, expressed his gratification at the discovery of the new and unimpeachable evidence of the innocence of the accused afforded by his learned brother from New York, and, in conclusion, desired to move the entry of a nolle prosequi in the case of the People vs. Dorman Hackett. In short, never did hunter retire with better grace from a hopeless chase. The motion was promptly granted by the court, and Dorn Hackett was a free man once again.
Lem Pawlett shouted and hurrahed at the top of his voice, defying two sedate officers of the court who sought to hush him; and many others joined in his cheers—almost all, indeed, for so fickle are the multitude, so worshipful of success, and so easily influenced by impulse, that their purposes and the currents of their feelings vary like the shifting winds. How many there were who now said that they "had always looked upon Dorn Hackett as a noble fellow, one who could not be guilty of a crime!" How many who declared they had "thought his arrest a great mistake from the first!" And they found it the easier to forgive Dorn for escaping since they had another victim in prospect, in his stead. Not even Deacon Harkins was altogether unhappy, for he still had a horrid example at whom to aim his homilies and texts. All that was necessary was to substitute the name of Silas for that of Dorn, and his stream of malignant cant flowed steadily on.
Dorn was conducted into the judge's private room, where he found Mary awaiting him with open arms, glad smiles, and tears of joy in her bright eyes. How happy and how beautiful she looked. He pressed her to his breast, again and again, with rapture: but the lovers' hearts were too full for speech. The greatest joys, like the deepest griefs, are voiceless; mere words humble, even profane them. Could those two loving ones have phrased the gratitude, to the Giver of all Good, that thrilled their souls? Ah, no! They could only kiss and be happy.
In the court-room without it was very evident that, for a time at least, there need not be any hope of doing business. Even after Lem had been silenced,—thanks not to the two sedate officers but to little Ruth, who had by this time regained all her authority—there was still kept up such a buzz of conversation, interchange of ejaculations and comments, breaking out afresh in one place as soon as quelled in another, lulling for an instant and then recommencing with even greater vigor, that the judge and prosecuting attorney pantomimed to each other that there might just as well be an adjournment until the afternoon. And after the prosecutor had laid his little sacrifice upon the altar of form, in a statement, audible only to those at his elbows, that he would not be ready until afternoon to go on with the next case upon the docket, the judge ordered an adjournment and retired to his room.