The House of the Whispering Pines - Anna Katharine Green (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗
- Author: Anna Katharine Green
- Performer: -
Book online «The House of the Whispering Pines - Anna Katharine Green (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗». Author Anna Katharine Green
With all these anxieties and his deeply planned coup d'etat awaiting the moment of action, Ella's simple outburst and even Ranelagh's unexpected and somewhat startling suggestion lost much of their significance. All his mind and heart were on his next move. It was to be made with the queen, and must threaten checkmate. Yet he did not forget the two pawns, silent in their places—but guarding certain squares which the queen, for all her royal prerogatives, might not be able to reach.
BOOK FOUR WHAT THE PINES WHISPERED XXIX "I REMEMBERED THE ROOM"MERCURY.—If thou mightst dwell among the Gods the while
Lapped in voluptuous joy?
PROMETHEUS.—I would not quit
This bleak ravine, these unrepentant pains.
Prometheus Unbound.
Great moments, whether of pain, surprise, or terror, awaken in the startled breast very different emotions from those we are led to anticipate from the agitation caused by lesser experiences. As Carmel disclosed her features to the court, my one absorbing thought was: Would she look at me? Could I hope for a glance of her eye? Did I wish it? My question was answered before Mr. Moffat had regained his place and turned to address the court.
As her gaze passed from her brother's face, it travelled slowly and with growing hesitation over the countenances of those near her, on and on past the judge, past the jury, until they reached the spot where I sat. There they seemed to falter, and the beating of my heart became so loud that I instinctively shrank away from my neighbour. By so doing, I drew her eye, which fell full upon mine for one overwhelming minute; then she shrank and looked away, but not before the colour had risen in a flood to her cheek.
The hope which had sprung to life under her first beautiful aspect, vanished in despair at sight of this flush. For it was not one of joy, or surprise, or even of unconscious sympathy. It was the banner of a deep, unendurable shame. Versed in her every expression, I could not mistake the language of her dismayed soul, at this, the most critical instant of her life. She had hoped to find me absent; she was overwhelmed to find me there. Could she, with a look, have transported me a thousand miles from this scene of personal humiliation and unknown, unimaginable outcome, she would have bestowed that look and ignored the consequences.
Nor was I behind her in the reckless passion of the moment. Could I, by means of a wish, have been transported those thousand miles, I should even now have been far from a spot where, in the face of a curious crowd, busy in associating us together, I must submit to the terror of hearing her speak and betray herself to these watchful lawyers, and to the just and impartial mind of the presiding judge.
But the days of magic had passed. I could not escape the spot; I could not escape her eye. The ordeal to which she was thus committed, I must share. As she advanced step by step upon her uncertain road, it would be my unhappy fate to advance with her, in terror of the same pitfalls, with our faces set towards the same precipice—slipping, fainting, experiencing agonies together. She knew my secret, and I, alas! knew hers. So I interpreted this intolerable, overwhelming blush.
Recoiling from the prospect, I buried my face in my hands, and so missed the surprising sight of this young girl, still in her teens, conquering a dismay which might well unnerve one of established years and untold experiences. In a few minutes, as I was afterward told by my friends, her features had settled into a strange placidity, undisturbed by the levelled gaze of a hundred eyes. Her whole attention was concentrated on her brother, and wavered only, when the duties of the occasion demanded a recognition of the various gentlemen concerned in the trial.
Mr. Moffat prefaced his examination by the following words:
"May it please your Honour, I wish to ask the indulgence of the court in my examination of this witness. She is just recovering from a long and dangerous illness; and while I shall endeavour to keep within the rules of examination, I shall be grateful for any consideration which may be shown her by your Honour and by the counsel on the other side."
Mr. Fox at once rose. He had by this time recovered from his astonishment at seeing before him, and in a fair state of health, the young girl whom he had every reason to believe to be still in a condition of partial forgetfulness at Lakewood, and under the care of a woman entirely in his confidence and under his express orders. He had also mastered his chagrin at the triumph which her presence here, and under these dramatic circumstances, had given his adversary. Moved, perhaps, by Miss Cumberland's beauty, which he saw for the first time—or, perhaps, by the spectacle of this beauty devoting its first hours of health to an attempt to save a brother, of whose precarious position before the law she had been ignorant up to this time—or more possibly yet, by a fear that it might be bad tactics to show harshness to so interesting a personality before she had uttered a word of testimony, he expressed in warmer tones than usual, his deep desire to extend every possible indulgence.
Mr. Moffat bowed his acknowledgments, and waited for his witness to take the oath, which she did with a simple grace which touched all hearts, even that of her constrained and unreconciled brother. Compelled by the silence and my own bounding pulses to look at her in my own despite, I caught the sweet and elevated look with which she laid her hand on the Book, and asked myself if her presence here was not a self-accusation, which would bring satisfaction to nobody—which would sink her and hers into an ignominy worse than the conviction of the brother whom she was supposedly there to save.
Tortured by this fear, I awaited events in indescribable agitation.
The cool voice of Mr. Moffat broke in upon my gloom. Carmel had reseated herself, after taking the oath, and the customary question could be heard:
"Your name, if you please."
"Carmel Cumberland."
"Do you recognise the prisoner, Miss Cumberland?"
"Yes; he is my brother."
A thrill ran through the room. The lingering tone, the tender accent, told. Some of the feeling she thus expressed seemed to pass into every heart which contemplated the two. From this moment on, he was looked upon with less harshness; people showed a disposition to discern innocence, where, perhaps, they had secretly desired, until now, to discover guilt.
"Miss Cumberland, will you be good enough to tell us where you were, at or near the hour of ten, on the evening of your sister's death?"
"I was in the club-house—in the house you call The Whispering Pines."
At this astounding reply, unexpected by every one present save myself and the unhappy prisoner, incredulity, seasoned with amazement, marked every countenance. Carmel Cumberland in the club-house that night—she who had been found at a late hour, in her own home, injured and unconscious! It was not to be believed—or it would not have been, if Arthur with less self-control than he had hitherto maintained, had not shown by his morose air and the silent drooping of his head that he accepted this statement, wild and improbable as it seemed. Mr. Fox, whose mind without doubt had been engaged in a debate from the first, as to the desirability of challenging the testimony of this young girl, whose faculties had so lately recovered from a condition of great shock and avowed forgetfulness that no word as yet had come to him of her restored health, started to arise at her words; but noting the prisoner's attitude, he hastily reseated himself, realising, perhaps, that evidence of which he had never dreamed lay at the bottom of the client's manner and the counsel's complacency. If so, then his own air of mingled disbelief and compassionate forbearance might strike the jury unfavourably; while, on the contrary, if his doubts were sound, and the witness were confounding the fancies of her late delirium with the actual incidents of this fatal night, then would he gain rather than lose by allowing her to proceed until her testimony fell of its own weight, or succumbed before the fire of his cross-examination.
Modifying his manner, he steadied himself for either exigency, and, in steadying himself, steadied his colleagues also.
Mr. Moffat, who saw everything, smiled slightly as he spoke encouragingly to his witness, and propounded his next question:
"Miss Cumberland, was your sister with you when you went to the club-house?"
"No; we went separately"
"How? Will you explain?"
"I drove there. I don't know how Adelaide went."
"You drove there?"
"Yes. I had Arthur harness up his horse for me and I drove there."
A moment of silence; then a slow awakening—on the part of judge, jury, and prosecution—to the fact that the case was taking a turn for which they were ill-prepared. To Mr. Moffat, it was a moment of intense self-congratulation, and something of the gratification he felt crept into his voice as he said:
"Miss Cumberland, will you describe this horse?"
"It was a grey horse. It has a large black spot on its left shoulder."
"To what vehicle was it attached?"
"To a cutter—my brother's cutter."
"Was that brother with you? Did he accompany you in your ride to The
Whispering Pines?"
"No, I went quite alone."
Entrancement had now seized upon every mind. Even if her testimony were not true, but merely the wanderings of a mind not fully restored, the interest of it was intense. Mr. Fox, glancing at the jury, saw there would be small use in questioning at this time the mental capacity of the witness. This was a story which all wished to hear. Perhaps he wished to hear it, too.
Mr. Moffat rose to more than his accustomed height. The light which sometimes visited his face when feeling, or a sense of power, was strongest in him, shone from his eye and irradiated his whole aspect as he inquired tellingly:
"And how did you return? With whom, and by what means, did you regain your own house?"
The answer came, with simple directness:
"In the same way I went. I drove back in my brother's cutter and being all alone just as before, I put the horse away myself, and went into my empty home and up to Adelaide's room, where I lost consciousness."
The excitement, which had been seething, broke out as she ceased; but the judge did not need to use his gavel, or the officers of the court exert their authority. At Mr. Moffat's lifted hand, the turmoil ceased as if by magic.
"Miss Cumberland, do you often ride out alone on nights like that?"
"I never did before. I would not have dared to do it then, if I had not taken a certain precaution."
"And what was this precaution?"
"I wore an old coat of my brother's over my dress, and one of his hats on my head."
It was out—the fact for the suppression of which I had suffered arrest without a word; because of which Arthur had gone even further, and submitted to trial with the same constancy. Instinctively, his eyes and mine met, and, at that moment, there was established between us an understanding that was in strong contrast to the surrounding turmoil, which now exceeded all limits, as the highly wrought up spectators realised that these statements, if corroborated, destroyed one of the strongest points which had been made by the prosecution. This caused a stay in the proceedings until order was
Comments (0)