said — to show that she had spoken hastily and
with no intention to wound? Might she not,
under these circumstances, wish to pay some
little attention to the deceased, wish for some
excuse for going up to her room to exchange
some friendly words with her, and say ' Good
night'? Is this too much to suppose? Is it too
much to suppose, again, that in taking that food
up-stairs the accused might turn aside into a
room which lay on her road to gain breath, or
even to collect herself a little, before entering
upon a scene which was likely to prove of a
somewhat embarrassing nature?

"Then, again, the possession by the accused
of a certain amount of the very poison by which
the deceased lady is proved to have died, is this
really so damnatory a circumstance as it at first
appears? Let it be remembered what that
poison was. Let it be remembered that this is
no case of poisoning by strychnine, by antimony,
by arsenic, or any other of those terrible drugs
which only chemists or other professional persons
may with propriety be expected to keep by them.
Opium in all its forms, let it be remembered, is a
medicine, and a medicine capable of exercising
the most benign and soothing influences in
certain cases of pain and unrest, a medicine used
externally as well as internally every day, and
one—and to this I would call especial attention
—to be found, to some extent, in the medicine-chests
of—at a moderate computation—half the
families in England. This fact cannot be too
much insisted upon. The existence of some
poisons in the possession of an unprofessional
person would be in itself a suspicious
circumstance, but the possession of the poison called
laudanum is not a suspicious circumstance, for
the reasons I have given. As to its being hid
away so carefully, in this case, that was simply,
as we have seen, owing to an over-exactness in
obeying the injunction of the chemist who sold
the drug, and who requested that it might be
kept in some place of security. It was evidently
an excess of caution which led to the very elaborate
concealment of the bottle where no one
could light upon it by accident, and no uncommon
caution either—the very look of that
formidable word ' Poison,' as it shows conspicuous
on the label of the bottle, being calculated to
inspire an extreme fear lest the drug so inscribed
should get into careless or dangerous hands.
Considered thus, it will surely appear that this
act— this hiding away of the poison-bottle which
has seemed so suspicious a thing, may be
accounted for more easily than might at first sight
be supposed possible; and much as those who
desire to see an innocent person clear from all
suspicion may regret that this concealment of the
laudanum was ever attempted, it will surely yet
be apparent to all such, after a little reflection,
that there is in reality nothing in this act which
may not be accounted for by causes consistent in
all respects with the innocence of the accused.
There are some words which have an alarming
sound in themselves, and which spread a sort of
panic wherever they appear, and such words as
'Poison' and 'Laudanum' are among them. To
most men, and to women more especially, there
is something ominous and almost terrible about
such words, and though this feeling may possibly
be both fanciful and unjustifiable, I would
submit that it is none the less a most natural and
widely-diffused instinct. But I will go further
in connexion with this subject than I have done,
and instead of asking whether it is not possible
to explain this act, which has been turned to the
disadvantage of the accused in such a manner as to
prove that it is compatible with a belief in her
innocence— I will ask rather, whether it is not
almost a proof, indirectly, of her innocence?
For is it not almost a certain thing that any one
who had been guilty would have destroyed this
bottle and obliterated all traces of its existence,
instead of keeping by her what might be so likely
to prove a dangerous piece of evidence against
herself in the event—a most probable one—of its
being discovered?

"It has been my desire in what I have hitherto
said, to show that all the weight of circumstantial
evidence which has been brought forward to
support the present charge is yet, strong as I
admit that it is, capable of two interpretations,
and therefore it is that I have gone thus into
the particulars of the case against the accused.
And indeed it must be that this evidence is
susceptible of two interpretations. It must be that
the innocence of the accused is reconcilable with
the facts which have been laid before the court;
for though it is true that all things took place as
has been shown this day, it is equally true that
she who is accused of this crime DID NOT COMMIT
IT, nor entertain the very thought of it in her
heart. But I need dwell no longer on this theme;
indeed, it would be waste of time to do so, when
I have proof to offer the jury—proof of the
strongest and most irrefragable kind — that the
poison by which Diana Carrington died, was
administered by another hand than that of the
accused. By whom, then, was it administered?
is the next question. My answer is ready.

"I assert, without a moment's hesitation, that
the poison by which the deceased lady met her
death, was taken by herself, of her own free will,
and that, moreover, without any thought that
what she did might have a fatal result, or any
intention of self-destruction."

Gilbert paused for a moment at this point, and
a deep breath of something almost like relief
seemed to come simultaneously from the whole
assembly of human beings gathered together in
court that day. The appearance and bearing of
the accused had told much in her favour with all
present, and any announcement which promised
to dissipate the dreadful cloud which hung over
her was very welcome. The barristers whispered
together, and even the judicial calmness of the
bench did not seem altogether proof against the
natural curiosity which the last words of the
counsel for the defence were calculated to
awaken.