“Thus it was with the argument of my learned friend, it has vanished amidst the bustle he created around it. One thing more, my Lord and Gentlemen, and I have done; for I shall not, like my learned friend, after disclaiming all intentions of appealing to your feelings, endeavour by an artful peroration to come home to your inmost souls. It is simply this, that my client is a stranger, the son of a powerful foreign monarch, and, of course, as he has never taken any oath of allegiance to the English government, he is not amenable to the English laws. After stating this fact, I sit down, confidently assured that your verdict will be in my favour, and that by it you will again vindicate that proud right you have so long and so gloriously maintained of acting always as enlightened and freeborn Englishmen.”
As the orator sat down, a tumult of applause rang through the hall, and the delight of Lord Maysworth can be only justly appreciated by an author who recollects what he felt when he first heard of the success of a favourite work. But he had little time for exultation, as the Judge, having been wound up in his turn, now began to sum up the evidence. Slowly and heavily did he go on, the machinery that composed him wanting oil, and creaking ominously as it moved, whilst, ere he had half finished, a cry was heard through the outer court, and instantly a rush of people announced the arrival of the Queen.
After the exertions made by Elvira the previous day, her fever returned, and she lay insensible to everything that passed till she was restored to recollection by the tolling of a deep-toned bell, which was always set in motion the moment a prisoner was put upon his defence. She heard the solemn sound distinctly; the court where state criminals were tried, adjoined the palace, in order that the Queen might have an opportunity of hearing appeals, or deciding on any difficult case that might arise; though as offences against the state had been very rare in the female dynasty, (whether from the goodness of the people or the severity of the punishment, I leave it for my readers to determine,) the privilege had been seldom called in action, and the bell now grated harshly as it tolled. Elvira, however, had heard of the custom, and its cause flashed instantly upon her mind, as she started from her bed, and listened to the solemn sound as it fell slowly and heavily upon her ear, every knell seeming to strike upon the naked nerve.
“Emma!” cried she, “let me go—quick, let me save him, or I shall be too late.” Emma obeyed; but whilst she was attiring her mistress every moment seemed an age, and Elvira listened to the heavy tolling bell till the sense of hearing became agony; and, unable to endure any more, she pressed her hands firmly against her ears to shut out the dreaded sound. At length she was ready, and hurrying to the court, arrived just at the critical moment I have mentioned.
“Stop!” cried she, “I command you to stop proceedings. The prisoner is free. My people have given me a right to pardon all offences, and I thus first exercise it. Set him free!”
The guards obeyed; and it not being possible to stop the automaton judge till he had run down, he was carried out of court, repeating, (for it happened he was summing up the evidence at that moment,) “And the Queen said she loved him, and would sacrifice even her life for his sake.”
“You are free, Sir,” said Elvira to the prince. “I only blush that a stranger should have been so inhospitably treated in my court. My illness, however, must plead my excuse; and I can only now show my sorrow by releasing you from the parole of honour you have given. You are absolutely free, prince, not only from these chains, but also to leave the kingdom whenever you shall think fit.”
The prince, in a transport of gratitude, knelt and kissed her hand; and then retired with his friends to the house of Lord Maysworth; whilst Elvira, satisfied with herself, and hoping she had disarmed scandal by desiring the prince to quit the kingdom, returned to her palace more happy than she had before felt since before the fatal combat in the garden.
XXIX
The effect produced by the scene just described upon the minds of the multitude was magical. It seemed a confirmation “strong as proofs of holy writ” of all that had been urged against the Queen, and alienated from her side even those who had remained neutral.
“I really could not have believed it possible,” said the Duke of Exeter, as he retired slowly from the court.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am confident everyone else must think, or at least ought to think,” said Lord Gustavus, “she seems to have lost all sense even of common decency.”
“What do you say to this, Sir Ambrose?” asked Dr. Hardman triumphantly.
“Nothing,” replied Sir Ambrose, sighing.
“Then the case is hopeless,” said the Duke of Exeter; “for I know Sir Ambrose so well, that I am certain if a single word could be said in the Queen’s behalf, he would not remain silent.”
“Your grace judges me too favourably,” returned Sir Ambrose; “for there is, on the contrary, much to be said for the Queen, if I had been disposed to say it. You see the story of her wishing to marry Ferdinand was evidently false, for she desired him in plain terms to quit the kingdom.”
“A mere blind,” cried Lord Gustavus, who felt he had now gone too far to recede; “an absolute farce; and I am only astonished a man of your penetration, Sir Ambrose, could have been deceived by it.”
“It has long been the proudest boast of the English law,” said Sir Ambrose, “that everyone is presumed innocent
