“I was very much disappointed when Mrs. Debar returned to my cell and informed me that the civil authorities refused to believe her when she informed them that I was not her husband—they thought it was a ruse invented by her to get her husband out of prison; but she was kind enough to bring a lawyer to see me on the subject. Mr. Deediddle was a middle-aged man, with a very red nose and a ponderous stomach, evidently a devout worshiper of Bacchus. I don’t think I ever before saw such a red nose on a man’s face. He was a perfect talking machine; and I was rather distrustful of him, but he assured me that there would be no difficulty in securing my release.
“‘Fact is, Mr. Demar, I’m an old hand at the pump—no cure no pay, is my motto,’ said Mr. Deediddle, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow with a red handkerchief of enormous size. ‘Fact, Mr. Demar, I have walked in the legal harness for twenty years; what I don’t know about law ain’t printed yet. Fact, Mr. Demar—never lost half a dozen cases in my life. Fact, sir, and when you get me on a Habeas Corpus, I can beat the inventor of the writ. Ah, sir, that’s a glorious writ. Fact, sir, it’s the paladium of liberty—it’s the Alpha and Omega of American freedom. Fact, sir, I’ll pry you out of this horrible place, sir, with this great lever of the law—this center pole of the prisoner’s castle of hope. Fact is, Judge Flaxback always yields to me—he is very fond of whist, and I always let him win, then he returns the favor when making decisions. Fact, sir, he never decides against me—he always stops with me during court—he loves good wine—I always keep the very best. Fact, sir, I keep him full; but business is business, you know, Mr. Demar—no cure no pay. I believe I told you that was my motto—yes, sure enough I did; but a retainer, you know, is always customary—a small retainer—say fifty dollars. Fact is, Mr. Demar, business is business, you know.’
“I gave him fifty dollars as quickly as I could, and would have given him double that sum, if he had demanded it.
“‘For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Deediddle,’ said I, ‘get me out of this miserable place, and you shall be well paid.’
“‘Fact is, sir, you shall be out before to-morrow night. Judge Flaxback is to be in town this very day, and I’ll have a Habeas Corpus served on the sheriff immediately.’
“I was glad when he went away; it was but a short while before he returned, accompanied by the circuit court clerk, who came to administer the oath, that I had to make in order to procure the writ. I made the oath, and again was left alone, when bright rays of hope began to steal in on me. I laid myself down on my hard bed, and began to gaze at Lottie’s picture; my mind was so intensely fixed on the dear image that I did not hear the jailer when he opened the door.
“‘Thanks be to Heaven, Eddie, I have found you at last!’ exclaimed Harry Wallingford, as he sank down by my side and burst into tears. ‘I am the vilest wretch that ever disgraced the face of this green earth. I have spread misery and ruin around all who loved me. I have broken Lottie’s heart, and she is dying. Doctor Dodson says she cannot live three days longer. Why was I ever created? I dare not ask you to forgive me! If remorse could kill, I would have been dead long ago—there is a flaming fire consuming my vitals—yet it will not kill me. Lottie will die with a curse on her lips against me, for she believes I have murdered you, and it will be too late to undeceive her, for she is failing fast. I have killed the sweetest sister that mortal man ever had. Eddie, I would give the world, if it was all mine, to recall the past—if I could only atone for the crimes that I have committed. Poor Viola has been tried and convicted, while Lottie was too ill to know anything about it. They have kept the awful news from her, but she soon will leave this wicked world.’
“He then sank helplessly on the floor and groaned aloud. I could only stare at the unhappy boy whose rashness had caused all this misery. I felt no enmity toward him. I pitied him from the very bottom of my heart. I remembered how he had loved Viola, and how he must have suffered on her account. Then I thought of his love for Lottie, and knew that the errors he had committed were caused by his love for his sister. As soon as I could sufficiently command my feelings to enable me to talk, I began to do what I could to console him.
“‘There is no reason why you should feel remorse at all; grief comes natural under such circumstances; remorse is the pain produced by a consciousness of guilt; guilt cannot exist where there has been no willful intent. The mistakes you have committed were errors of judgment, not of the heart. It is the intent that constitutes the crime. You were prompted to act by love for your sister, and I feel more inclined to approve than to condemn you. I have always loved you—I love you yet; and if Lottie could live, we would all be happy again. Rise up, I pray you; let us forget the past, and work together to repair the errors committed. I promise you that, so far as my feelings are concerned, no ill-will ever shall find lodgment in my poor heart against you.’
“‘Eddie, you are different from all other men. Your heart is more noble, more generous and more forgiving than others’, it is a knowledge of that fact that makes my conscience condemn me. You should have cut my unworthy head off when I gave you that insulting blow. If you knew how my conscience gnaws and burns me for that mean, despicable act, you would indeed pity me!’