Excellent Elizabeth! A murmur of approbation was heard; but it
was excited by her generous interference, and not in favor of
poor Justine, on whom the public indignation was turned with
renewed violence, charging her with the blackest ingratitude.
She herself wept as Elizabeth spoke, but she did not answer. My
own agitation and anguish was extreme during the whole trial. I
believed in her innocence; I knew it. Could the dæmon, who
had (I did not for a minute doubt) murdered my brother, also in
his hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death and
ignominy? I could not sustain the horror of my situation; and
when I perceived that the popular voice, and the countenances of
the judges, had already condemned my unhappy victim, I rushed
out of the court in agony. The tortures of the accused did not
equal mine; she was sustained by innocence, but the fangs of
remorse tore my bosom, and would not forego their hold.
I passed a night of unmingled wretchedness. In the morning I
went to the court; my lips and throat were parched. I dared not
ask the fatal question; but I was known, and the officer guessed
the cause of my visit. The ballots had been thrown; they were
all black, and Justine was condemned.
I cannot pretend to describe what I then felt. I had before
experienced sensations of horror; and I have endeavoured to
bestow upon them adequate expressions, but words cannot convey
an idea of the heart-sickening despair that I then endured. The
person to whom I addressed myself added, that Justine had
already confessed her guilt. "That evidence," he observed, "was
hardly required in so glaring a case, but I am glad of it; and,
indeed, none of our judges like to condemn a criminal upon
circumstantial evidence, be it ever so decisive."