The lawyer looked at him, as if in doubt of his meaning.
Rust, in response to the look, repeated the question. ‘Is there nothing [!-- original reads 497 --]more to be done, in that farce called the law? Is there no farther blow to be struck for life?’
‘We can appeal,’ replied the lawyer; ‘but there is little chance of success.’ He took Rust by the hand, and said in a soothing tone: ‘My poor friend, you must be prepared for the worst; for I cannot promise to save your life.’
Rust rose and stood directly in front of him; and pointing to a small coin which lay on the table, said: ‘Not the tenth part of that would Michael Rust give to have one hour added to his life; but I will not be driven from it. I will not be beaten down and crushed.’ He stamped furiously on the floor.
‘Fight!’ said he, fixing his glaring eye on the lawyer; ‘fight to the last; leave nothing untried; spare not gold; bribe—corrupt—suborn; do any thing; but do not leave the triumph to my enemies. It’s that that is tearing away at my heart. It’s that which is killing me,’ exclaimed he, bitterly, shaking his hands over his head.
‘We shall leave nothing untried,’ said the lawyer. ‘Perhaps too we may obtain a pardon, for if ever a murder was justifiable, that was.’
‘Pardon!’ exclaimed Rust with a sneer; ‘pardon! Because I defended my own flesh and blood; because the laws had forced upon me the task which they should perform! I must die, or sue for pardon. A noble thing is law!’
The lawyer was silent. He felt that Rust’s own previous criminal life had been his worst enemy, and that it was the disclosure of his own evil plans which had been in every mouth long before the trial, that had done much to harden the feelings of the jury, who in another case might have stretched a point to save him.
Merely repeating what he had already said, that every thing should be tried, he took his leave.
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