mr. cowdrick’s return.—mr. weems takes a new view of his position.—justice.
m
r. cowdrick again sat in his easy-chair, in his library, before the sham fire, and with him sat his wife and daughter. they were talking of the trial of mr. cowdrick, which was to begin on the morrow.
“it is very disagreeable, of course,” said mr. cowdrick; “but in this life we have to take the bitter with the sweet.”
“but, oh, papa,” said leonie, “how dreadful it will be if the verdict goes against you. do you think they would actually send a man of your position to a horrid prison?”
“leonie!” exclaimed mrs. cowdrick, “i am surprised at your speaking of such things. pray don’t do it again. my nerves will not stand it.”
“you need not be alarmed, my dear child,” said mr. cowdrick, smiling. “my friends have arranged things comfortably for me with the prosecuting attorney,194 and the other authorities. i had an offer made to me to have the jury packed in my interest, but i was assured that it was unnecessary, and, besides, i felt that it would perhaps be wrong for me to descend to corruption.”
“it is a terrible experience at the best,” said mrs. cowdrick; “but there is some satisfaction in the reflection that we are not reduced to absolute poverty.”
“that is my greatest consolation,” rejoined mr. cowdrick. “pinyard tells me that i may count on saving at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from the wreck; invested in good securities, too.”
“then we can go to a watering-place, next summer, as usual?” asked leonie.
“yes, dear.”
“and can we keep our carriage and our servants, and everything, just as before?”
“certainly; there will be no difference.”
leonie reflected for a moment, and then sighed heavily.
“and i think very likely,” said mr. cowdrick, “that my poor little girl can have her lover back again, if she wants him, too.”
“papa, what do you mean?” asked leonie.
“why, i commissioned a man named gunn, in whom i have some confidence, to visit weems, and to sound him, to ascertain how he felt with regard to the result of your suit.”
195 “well?”
“gunn reports to me that weems feels repentant; says he always loved you, and would give anything to have the past recalled.”
here mr. cowdrick, having constructed a sturdy falsehood, winked at his wife; and leonie said:
“well, papa, i don’t know whether i am quite willing to forgive him, but i confess that i care more for julius than for any other person.”
“we shall see what can be done,” remarked mr. cowdrick. “and now you must excuse me. i have to go to meet my counsel to prepare for the trial;” and mr. cowdrick withdrew.
the interview between mr. weems and mr. benjamin p. gunn, to which mr. cowdrick alluded, was conducted upon a rather different basis from that indicated by the banker in his conversation with leonie.
mr. gunn, upon his entrance to the studio of the artist, began by expressing his regret at the issue of the breach of promise suit.
“yes, confound it,” said mr. weems; “it is hard, isn’t it? to think that that old faded flower of a girl should be smart enough to get the better of me in such a manner!”
“the damages are heavy too,” said gunn, thoughtfully; “and i understand that she is firmly resolved to compel you to pay the money.”
“that is the worst of it! the mortification was196 bad enough; but five thousand dollars to pay on top of that! why, it’s simply awful.”
“the amount would cover the price of a good many pictures, wouldn’t it?”
“yes; and just now the market is so overloaded with old masters, that they hardly fetch the value of the canvas they are painted on. a house-painter makes more money than an artist.”
“it must be a desire for revenge that induces the lady to be so eager for the money. she is not poor.”
“i guess she is. old cowdrick will have to give up everything, i suppose.”
mr. gunn smiled, and looked wise. then he said, mr. weems, i’ll let you into a secret if you will keep it to yourself.”
“i will, certainly.”
“well, sir, i know,—i don’t merely think,—i know that cowdrick is going to come out of this thing with at least a quarter of a million. he’ll be just as comfortable as ever.”
“that is nearly incredible.”
“it is the truth, at any rate; and i can prove it.”
“but how about his crimes? he is tolerably certain to go to prison.”
“what, cowdrick? cowdrick go to prison? not a bit of it! he is too respectable. that has all been fixed in advance, unless i am misinformed.”
mr. weems reflected in silence for a few moments. then mr. gunn, rising to go, said,—
197 “it is none of my business, sir, of course; i only came in to give you the facts because i felt friendly to you. but if i had my choice between paying five thousand dollars and compromising with the plaintiff, i know very well what i would do, particularly if the plaintiff would rather have the man than the money. good morning, mr. weems;” and mr. gunn withdrew.
“a quarter of a million!” said mr. weems to himself, as he sat alone, meditating upon the situation. “what a fool i was. i might have known that old cowdrick would take care of himself and soon get upon his legs again. i believe that man gunn was sent here to feel the way for a reconciliation, and i have half a notion to attempt one. i’ll make a movement toward it, anyhow. i’ll write a letter to cowdrick, and if he gets out of the clutches of the law i will send it to him, and see if we can’t make up the quarrel.”
then mr. weems went to his desk and penned the following epistle:—
“henry p. cowdrick, esq.
“dear sir,—i write to you with much diffidence and with deep apprehension as to the result, concerning a matter in which my happiness is seriously involved. i need not rehearse the facts concerning my unfortunate differences with leonie; but i wish to say that i shall never cease to regret that a mere lovers’ quarrel, which should have been forgotten and forgiven a moment afterwards, should have caused, under the influence of senseless anger, a breach which, i fear, is now198 irreparable. for my part, reflection upon my conduct in the business makes me utterly miserable, for i cannot hide from myself, and i will not attempt to hide from you, that my affection for your daughter has lost none of its intensity because of the occurrences of which i have spoken. i love her now as fondly as i ever loved her; and though it should be ordained by fate that we shall never meet again, i shall cherish her image in my heart until my dying day, and i shall never cease to breathe earnest petitions for her happiness.
“believe me,
yours very truly,
“julius weems.”
“that,” said mr. weems, “ought to bring him to terms, if he really means business.”
then mr. weems folded the letter, directed it, and slipped it into his pocket to await the result of mr. cowdrick’s trial.
it would be injudicious to linger over the details of mr. cowdrick’s trial, lest we should have a surfeit of legal proceedings. both the prosecution and the defence were conducted with vigor and ability, and the jury, after remaining out for a very little while, found mr. cowdrick guilty of sundry crimes and misdemeanors of a particularly infamous character.
when the verdict had been presented, a singularly affecting scene ensued.
amid a silence that was painful in its intensity, the prosecuting attorney, hardly able to control his emotion, rose to move that sentence be passed upon the prisoner at the bar. in doing so, he took199 occasion to remark that the prosecution had no desire to crush to the earth the unfortunate gentleman whom it had been compelled, in the performance of a most unpleasant duty, to arraign before the tribunal of justice. the lesson that men must not betray their trusts, and recklessly misuse the property of others, had been plainly taught by the conviction. that was the leading purpose of the prosecution; it was ample fulfilment of the demands of the law and of society, and it supplied to other men, especially to the young, a sufficiently solemn warning against indulgence in extravagance and in unwise speculation. it would be harsh—perhaps even cruel—in this instance to inflict a severe penalty, not alone because of the high social standing of the prisoner at the bar, but because it was clear enough that he did not take the money of others solely for his own benefit, but for the advancement of enterprises in which others were interested—enterprises which seemed to him likely to promote the industrial activity of the country, and to add largely to the wealth of the nation. with these remarks, he submitted the whole matter to the discretion of the court, earnestly hoping that his honor would find it possible to give to the prisoner an opportunity to retrieve the past by his future good conduct.
as the prosecuting attorney sat down, the court-room was bathed in tears.
200 then the leading counsel for mr. cowdrick arose. it was a moment or two before his feelings would permit him to command his utterance; and when, at last, he was able with a broken voice to speak, he said that he could not find language of sufficient warmth in which to express his sense of the justice, the human kindness, the frank generosity of the prosecuting attorney. these qualities, as here exhibited, did credit to his head and heart, and entitled him to the commendation of the wise and the good. the learned counsel should never for a moment believe his client to be guilty of that of which he seemed to have been found technically guilty, and he could add little to the fitting and eloquent words that had just been spoken. it had been written, “vengeance is mine,” and it was not for an earthly tribunal to seek to inflict vengeance. his client’s errors, if errors they really were, were of the head, not of the heart; and he was sure that the court would never undertake to humiliate this excellent and worthy man, who, during a long career, had been an honored citizen of the community, by even approaching a sentence which might make him look like a felon. “i need hardly say to your honor,” continued the learned counsel, “that to impose the extreme penalty provided in this case would not only close the doors of the prison upon this estimable citizen, but would bring desolation to a happy home, would break the hearts of those201 who are dear to him, and would achieve no good purpose that has not already been attained.” trusting in the clemency of the court, the learned counsel sat down, while the court-room echoed the sobs of the spectators.
the judge, wiping his eyes, and trying hard not to give way to his feelings, said,—
“mr. cowdrick will please rise. as you are aware, mr. cowdrick, i have but a single duty to perform. i must impose the sentence as it is provided by the law. i remember your social position, and your former conduct as a worthy member of society, and i have fully estimated the importance of the suggestion that your offences were perpetrated largely for the benefit of others. it gives me, therefore, great pleasure to find in the statute a limitation which enables me to inflict a penalty less severe than, otherwise, i should have been compelled to inflict. i impose upon you a fine of five hundred dollars, as provided in the statute, you to stand committed until the fine is paid.”
as the judge pronounced the sentence, a great cheer went up. mr. cowdrick’s counsel paid the fine at once, and mr. cowdrick, after shaking hands with the lawyers and receiving the apology of the prosecuting attorney for pushing him so hard, took his hat and walked out of the court-room a free and happy man.
then a new jury was called to try a book-keeper,202 who, because his salary was insufficient for the support of his family, had stolen three hundred dollars from his employer.
the prosecuting attorney was unable to perceive anything of a pathetic nature in the case, and when the jury promptly brought in a verdict of guilty, the judge, with a perfectly dry eye, sentenced the prisoner to incarceration at hard labor for ten years.
although the goddess of justice is blindfolded, she has sometimes a very discriminating sense of the relative importance of sinners who come to her for judgment.
