fall somewhat forward on her breast, and her
hands, which were folded in her lap, clasped each
other more tightly than before.

CHAPTER XXXIII. GABRIELLE's CHAMPION.

THE excitement now was very great. There
was not an usher— nay, there was not an errand-boy
employed about the court who did not know
under what extraordinary circumstances the
counsel for the defence was to carry that defence
through, and what a stake he had depending on
its issue. The fact that Gilbert had risen to
speak, was whispered from one to another of
those persons, many in number, who were unable
to see all that was going on, till in time it even
reached the crowd that was gathered outside.
The sharp youth who always takes a prominent
part in such an assembly, and on such an
occasion, and who always has the stupidest of men
next to him, caught at the intelligence with
avidity.

"He's on his legs," said the sharp youth.

"Who is?" inquired his obtuse neighbour.

"Why, 'er 'usband."

"What's he on his legs for? what's he going
to do?"

"Why, to speak for the defence, to be sure,"
said the sharp youth, who was an habitué of the
court, and as well acquainted with all its business
and phraseology as a Drury-lane boy with the
technicalities of the stage.

"What I can't make out," said the stupid
man, " is what call he has to speak about it."

"Why, stupid," retorted the superior mind,
"can't you understand he's the counsel for the
defence. He's a defending of her."

"Lawyer's wife in trouble," remarked the
stupid man. " Well, that is a start."

"Ah, I should think it was, too;" and with
that the precocious youth abandoned his friend,
and pressed forward in search of more intelligence.

Gilbert Penmore, then, rose to address the
jury in the midst of a silence which seemed
something more than negative. He was deadly pale.
For a while things swerved before his eyes, and
he spoke at first in a very low key. Perhaps no
human being was ever before placed in a position
of such severe and intolerable trial.

The counsel for the defence began by making
a few preliminary remarks on the peculiar relation
in which he stood towards the accused. It
was a case in all probability altogether without
precedent. He hoped, however, that no one in
court would be prejudiced against what he had
to say, through taking a false view of this that
he was doing. "Could I sit by inactive," he
said, "and see another risking the life of the
accused, by handling her cause in what might
appear to me an incomplete, or defective manner?
Could I bear to see a point neglected that might
seem to me a point on which things of infinite
importance hinged? Could I bear to see an
opportunity missed, or a mistake—even a slight
one—made? Suppose that usage is against me,
as it may be, is that a thing to consider in a case
of life and death? If I had been a physician,
and had seen the accused assailed by mortal
disease, should I not have sought to come
between her and its fatal result? If I had been a
soldier, should I not, before all other soldiers,
have interposed to save her from violence? But
above all things, if I must needs apologise for
this that I am doing, I will say that there is one
reason, above and beyond all others, why I, and
I only, should seek to conduct the defence of the
accused; and that is, that I, and I alone, know her
to be innocent. This it is that gives to me, who
am versed but little in the arts of pleading, an
advantage of incalculable value over any one else,
however great his natural ability or his acquired
experience; this it is that arms me thrice over for
the conflict of to-day, and enables me to contend
with a force which is the most irresistible of all
force—the consciousness of a just and upright
cause."

All eyes were riveted on the young lawyer,
but if any had looked to where the prisoner sat,
they might have observed that her head was somewhat
raised as these words were spoken, and
that something like a smile of heavenly radiance
illuminated her features.

"I wish to deal with this case," continued
Gilbert, " as far as may be as a lawyer, in the
strictest sense of the word, and to prove, to the
satisfaction of the jury, everything that I
advance. I would make no appeal—as, thank
Heaven, there is no need— to the mercy and
leniency of those who hear me, but simply and
entirely to their sense of justice. Let that sense
be kept on the alert throughout this defence, from
this moment till the last witness that I shall call
shall have finished the last word of his evidence.
Then neither my client nor I will have anything
to fear.

"It has been proved beyond a doubt that the
cause of death in the case before the court was
poison. This may be admitted at once, and
further, that the poison in question was laudanum,
or some form of opium, acting on a frame
peculiarly predisposed, owing to its organisation, to
be influenced by this drug. This being granted,
the question which remains to be answered is,
By whom was that drug given to the deceased?
Three different hypotheses might here be set up
as to the person by whom the poison had been
administered. There were three different hands
by which that poisonous matter might have been
conveyed to the lips of the deceased. Indeed,
there were but three human beings who could
have administered the poison. These three
persons were, Jane Cantanker, the"—here his
voice faltered—" the accused at the bar, and—
the deceased lady herself.

"As to the first of these persons," continued
Gilbert, collecting himself by a violent effort,
"she has remained from the first unaccused,
unsuspected. No one seems to have thought it
possible that suspicion could attach to her.