Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 3 of 3Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
General
Mary Seaham: A Novel. Volume 3 of 3
Grey, Mrs. (Elizabeth Caroline)
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Mate selection -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
She could promise this with a presentiment that the words were not
spoken without foundation--with a certain vague, unaccountable
presentiment, that some crisis was at hand in which her future fate
would surely be accomplished. But she was little prepared for the
communication which her brother now gently broke to her--that the
opportunity was indeed, very soon to be afforded her, for that in the
forthcoming case for which he had just been preparing his brief, Eugene
Trevor would have to appear to give his evidence.
CHAPTER VIII.
Un Dieu descend toujours pour dénouer le drame,
Toujours la Providence y veille et nous proclame
Cette justice occulte et ce divin ressort,
Qui fait jouer le temps et gouverne le sort.
LAMARTINE.
The court was crowded early the following morning, for it was not often
that cases of such interest as the principal one to be brought forward
on this occasion were provided by the inhabitants of ----, a town of the
principality, in which it is well known, crime, comparatively speaking,
is more rare than in other portions of the United Kingdom.
The prisoner had also been long known in the vicinity for her blameless
career, and the patient industry with which, under disadvantages and
discouragements (for she had been at an early age separated from both
her parents, and thrown upon her own resources), she had pursued her
laborious course for ten long years, her heart set on an ever receding
hope, which she had in the end been doomed to see engulphed by the dark
cloud which now overshadowed her fame.
The court, therefore, was crowded as we said before, when a few minor
cases having been disposed of, the prisoner for the forgery case was
summoned to the bar.
There was nothing in the appearance of the accused which could at first
sight strike the vulgar gaze. Neither youth nor beauty to excite the
feeling in her behalf; for though to adopt the loving language of the
poet:
"Fair she was, and young, when in hope
She began the long journey;
Faded she was, and old, when in disappointment it ended;"
the age of care and trouble, rather than of years, for she was not more
than one or two and thirty. Streaks of grey had already spread over her
forehead, "and the furrows on her cheek spoke the course of bitter
tears." Yet few there were amongst the intelligent and feeling part of
her beholders who did not soon begin to have their interest strongly
rivetted. And one amongst them, who felt her soul moved to its very
depths by pity and womanly compassion the instant her eyes fell upon the
pale meek face which bore such deep traces of sorrow--and patience as
great as her sorrow.
And yet it was a passive sorrow it expressed, a subdued and passive
suffering, which the careless might have attributed to dulness or
insensibility, so little did the prisoner appear moved to wonder or self
pity, by the sharp sense of unmerited misfortunes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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