THE first question (Did the Woman Die Poisoned?) had beenanswered, positively. The second question (Who Poisoned Her?) hadbeen answered, apparently. There now remained the third and finalquestion--What was His Motive? The first evidence called inanswer to that inquiry was the evidence of relatives and friendsof the dead wife.

Lady Brydehaven, widow of Rear-Admiral Sir George Brydehaven,examined by Mr. Drew (counsel for the Crown with the LordAdvocate), gave evidence as follows:

"The deceased lady (Mrs. Eustace Macallan) was my niece. She wasthe only child of my sister, and she lived under my roof afterthe time of her mother's death. I objected to her marriage, ongrounds which were considered purely fanciful and sentimental byher other friends. It is extremely painful to me to state thecircumstances in public, but I am ready to make the sacrifice ifthe ends of justice require it.

"The prisoner at the bar, at the time of which I am now speaking,was staying as a guest in my house. He met with an accident whilehe was out riding which caused a serious injury to one of hislegs. The leg had been previously hurt while he was serving withthe army in India. This circumstance tended greatly to aggravatethe injury received in the accident. He was confined to arecumbent position on a sofa for many weeks together; and theladies in the house took it in turns to sit with him, and whileaway the weary time by reading to him and talking to him. Myniece was foremost among these volunteer nurses. She playedadmirably on the piano; and the sick man happened--mostunfortunately, as the event proved--to be fond of music.

"The consequences of the perfectly innocent intercourse thusbegun were deplorable consequences for my niece. She becamepassionately attached to Mr. Eustace Macallan, without awakeningany corresponding affection on his side.

"I did my best to interfere, delicately and usefully, while itwas still possible to interfere with advantage. Unhappily, myniece refused to place any confidence in me. She persistentlydenied that she was actuated by any warmer feeling toward Mr.Macallan than a feeling of friendly interest. This made itimpossible for me to separate them without openly acknowledgingmy reason for doing so, and thus producing a scandal which mighthave affected my niece's reputation. My husband was alive at thattime; and the one thing I could do under the circumstances wasthe thing I did. I requested him to speak privately to Mr.Macallan, and to appeal to his honor to help us out of thedifficulty without prejudice to my niece.

"Mr. Macallan behaved admirably. He was still helpless. But hemade an excuse for leaving us which it was impossible to dispute.In two days after my husband had spoken to him he was removedfrom the house.

"The remedy was well intended; but it came too late, and itutterly failed. The mischief was done. My niece pined awayvisibly; neither medical help nor change of air and scene didanything for her. In course of time--after Mr. Macallan hadrecovered from the effects of his accident--I found that she wascarrying on a clandestine correspondence with him by means of hermaid. His letters, I am bound to say, were most considerately andcarefully written. Nevertheless, I felt it my duty to stop thecorrespondence.

"My interference--what else could I do but interfere?--broughtmatters to a crisis. One day my niece was missing atbreakfast-time. The next day we discovered that the poorinfatuated creature had gone to Mr. Macallan's chambers inLondon, and had been found hidden in his bedroom by some bachelorfriends who came to visit him.

"For this disaster Mr. Macallan was in no respect to blame.Hearing footsteps outside, he had only time to take measures forsaving her character by concealing her i n the nearest room--andthe nearest room happened to be his bedchamber. The matter wastalked about, of course, and motives were misinterpreted in thevilest manner. My husband had another private conversation withMr. Macallan. He again behaved admirably. He publicly declaredthat my niece had visited him as his betrothed wife. In afortnight from that time he silenced scandal in the one way thatwas possible--he married her.

"I was alone in opposing the marriage. I thought it at the timewhat it has proved to be since--a fatal mistake.

"It would have been sad enough if Mr. Macallan had only marriedher without a particle of love on his side. But to make theprospect more hopeless still, he was at that very time the victimof a misplaced attachment to a lady who was engaged to anotherman. I am well aware that he compassionately denied this, just ashe compassionately affected to be in love with my niece when hemarried her. But his hopeless admiration of the lady whom I havementioned was a matter of fact notorious among his friends. Itmay not be amiss to add that _her_ marriage preceded _his_marriage. He had irretrievably lost the woman he really loved--hewas without a hope or an aspiration in life--when he took pity onmy niece.

"In conclusion, I can only repeat that no evil which could havehappened (if she had remained a single woman) would have beencomparable, in my opinion, to the evil of such a marriage asthis. Never, I sincerely believe, were two more ill-assortedpersons united in the bonds of matrimony than the prisoner at thebar and his deceased wife."

The evidence of this witness produced a strong sensation amongthe audience, and had a marked effect on the minds of the jury.Cross-examination forced Lady Brydehaven to modify some of heropinions, and to acknowledge that the hopeless attachment of theprisoner to another woman was a matter of rumor only. But thefacts in her narrative remained unshaken, and, for that onereason, they invested the crime charged against the prisoner withan appearance of possibility, which it had entirely failed toassume during the earlier part of the Trial.

Two other ladies (intimate friends of Mrs. Eustace Macallan) werecalled next. They differed from Lady Brydehaven in their opinionson the propriety of the marriage but on all the material pointsthey supported her testimony, and confirmed the seriousimpression which the first witness had produced on every personin Court.

The next evidence which the prosecution proposed to put in wasthe silent evidence of the letters and the Diary found atGleninch.

In answer to a question from the Bench, the Lord Advocate statedthat the letters were written by friends of the prisoner and hisdeceased wife, and that passages in them bore directly on theterms on which the two associated in their married life. TheDiary was still more valuable as evidence. It contained theprisoner's daily record of domestic events, and of the thoughtsand feelings which they aroused in him at the time.

A most painful scene followed this explanation.

Writing, as I do, long after the events took place, I stillcannot prevail upon myself to describe in detail what my unhappyhusband said and did at this distressing period of the Trial.Deeply affected while Lady Brydehaven was giving her evidence, hehad with difficulty restrained himself from interrupting her. Henow lost all control over his feelings. In piercing tones, whichrang through the Court, he protested against the contemplatedviolation of his own most sacred secrets and his wife's mostsacred secrets. "Hang me, innocent as I am!" he cried, "but spareme _that!_" The effect of this terrible outbreak on the audienceis reported to have been indescribable. Some of the women presentwere in hysterics. The Judges interfered from the Bench, but withno good result. Quiet was at length restored by the Dean ofFaculty, who succeeded in soothing the prisoner, and who thenaddressed the Judges, pleading for indulgence to his unhappyclient in most touching and eloquent language. The speech, amasterpiece of impromptu oratory, concluded with a temperate yetstrongly urged protest against the reading of the papersdiscovered at Gleninch.

The three Judges retired to consider the legal question submittedto them. The sitting was suspended for more than half an hour.

As usual in such cases, the excitement in the Court communicateditself to the crowd outside in the street. The general opinionhere--led, as it was supposed, by one of the clerks or otherinferior persons connected with the legal proceedings--wasdecidedly adverse to the prisoner's chance of escaping a sentenceof death. "If the letters and the Diary are read," said thebrutal spokesman of the mob, "the letters and the Diary will hanghim."

On the return of the Judges into Court, it was announced thatthey had decided, by a majority of two to one, on permitting thedocuments in dispute to be produced in evidence. Each of theJudges, in turn, gave his reasons for the decision at which hehad arrived. This done, the Trial proceeded. The reading of theextracts from the letters and the extracts from the Diary began.

The first letters produced were the letters found in the Indiancabinet in Mrs. Eustace Macallan's room. They were addressed tothe deceased lady by intimate (female) friends of hers, with whomshe was accustomed to correspond. Three separate extracts fromletters written by three different correspondents were selectedto be read in Court.

FIRST CORRESPONDENT: "I despair, my dearest Sara, of being ableto tell you how your last letter has distressed me. Pray forgiveme if I own to thinking that your very sensitive natureexaggerates or misinterprets, quite unconsciously, of course, theneglect that you experience at the hands of your husband. Icannot say anything about _his_ peculiarities of character,because I am not well enough acquainted with him to know whatthey are. But, my dear, I am much older than you, and I have hada much longer experience than yours of what somebody calls 'thelights and shadows of married life.' Speaking from thatexperience, I must tell you what I have observed. Young marriedwomen, like you, who are devotedly attached to their husbands,are apt to make one very serious mistake. As a rule, they allexpect too much from their husbands. Men, my poor Sara, are notlike _us._ Their love, even when it is quite sincere, is not likeour love. It does not last as it does with us. It is not the onehope and one thought of their lives, as it is with us. We have noalternative, even when we most truly respect and love them, butto make allowance for this difference between the man's natureand the woman's. I do not for one moment excuse your husband'scoldness. He is wrong, for example, in never looking at you whenhe speaks to you, and in never noticing the efforts that you maketo please him. He is worse than wrong--he is really cruel, if youlike--in never returning your kiss when you kiss him. But, mydear, are you quite sure that he is always _designedly_ cold andcruel? May not his conduct be sometimes the result of troublesand anxieties which weigh on his mind, and which are troubles andanxieties that you cannot share? If you try to look at hisbehavior in this light, you will understand many things whichpuzzle and pain you now. Be patient with him, my child. Make nocomplaints, and never approach him with your caresses at timeswhen his mind is preoccupied or his temper ruffled. This may behard advice to follow, loving him as ardently as you do. But,rely on it, the secret of happiness for us women is to be found(alas! only too often) in such exercise of restraint andresignation as your old friend now recommends. Think, my dear,over what I have written, and let me hear from you again."

SECOND CORRESPONDENT: "How can you be so foolish, Sara, as towaste your love on such a cold-blooded brute as your husbandseems to be? To be sure, I am not married yet, or perhaps Ishould not be so surprised at you. But I shall be married one ofthese days, and if my husband ever treat me as Mr. Macallan treats you, I shall insist on a separation. I declare, I think Iwould rather be actually beaten, like the women among the lowerorders, than be treated with the polite neglect and contemptwhich you describe. I burn with indignation when I think of it.It must be quite insufferable. Don't bear it any longer, my poordear. Leave him, and come and stay with me. My brother is alawyer, as you know. I read to him portions of your letter, andhe is of opinion that you might get what he calls a judicialseparation. Come and consult him."

THIRD CORRESPONDENT: "YOU know, my dear Mrs. Macallan, what _my_experience of men has been. Your letter does not surprise me inthe least. Your husband's conduct to you points to oneconclusion. He is in love with some other woman. There isSomebody in the dark, who gets from him everything that he deniesto you. I have been through it all--and I know! Don't give way.Make it the business of your life to find out who the creatureis. Perhaps there may be more than one of them. It doesn'tmatter. One or many, if you can only discover them, you may makehis existence as miserable to him as he makes your existence toyou. If you want my experience to help you, say the word, and itis freely at your service. I can come and stay with you atGleninch any time after the fourth of next month."

With those abominable lines the readings from the letters of thewomen came to an end. The first and longest of the Extractsproduced the most vivid impression in Court. Evidently the writerwas in this case a worthy and sensible person. It was generallyfelt, however, that all three of the letters, no matter howwidely they might differ in tone, justified the same conclusion.The wife's position at Gleninch (if the wife's account of it wereto be trusted) was the position of a neglected and an unhappywoman.

The correspondence of the prisoner, which had been found, withhis Diary, in the locked bed-table drawer, was produced next. Theletters in this case were with one exception all written by men.Though the tone of them was moderation itself as compared withthe second and third of the women's letters, the conclusion stillpointed the same way. The life of the husband at Gleninchappeared to be just as intolerable as the life of the wife.

For example, one of the prisoner's male friends wrote invitinghim to make a yacht voyage around the world. Another suggested anabsence of six months on the Continent. A third recommendedfield-sports and fishing. The one object aimed at by all thewriters was plainly to counsel a separation, more or lessplausible and more or less complete, between the married pair.

The last letter read was addressed to the prisoner in a woman'shandwriting, and was signed by a woman's Christian name only.

"Ah, my poor Eustace, what a cruel destiny is ours!" the letterbegan. "When I think of your life, sacrificed to that wretchedwoman, my heart bleeds for you. If _we_ had been man and wife--ifit had been _my_ unutterable happiness to love and cherish thebest, the dearest of men--what a paradise of our own we mighthave lived in! what delicious hours we might have known! Butregret is vain; we are separated in this life--separated by tieswhich we both mourn, and yet which we must both respect. MyEustace, there is a world beyond this. There our souls will flyto meet each other, and mingle in one long heavenly embrace--in arapture forbidden to us on earth. The misery described in yourletter--oh, why, why did you marry her?--has wrung thisconfession of feeling from me. Let it comfort you, but let noother eyes see it. Burn my rashly written lines, and look (as Ilook) to the better life which you may yet share with your own

HELENA."

The reading of this outrageous letter provoked a question fromthe Bench. One of the Judges asked if the writer had attached anydate or address to her letter.

In answer to this the Lord Advocate stated that neither the onenor the other appeared. The envelope showed that the letter hadbeen posted in London. "We propose," the learned counselcontinued, "to read certain passages from the prisoner's Diary,in which the name signed at the end of the letter occurs morethan once; and we may possibly find other means of identifyingthe writer, to the satisfaction of your lordships, before theTrial is over."

The promised passages from my husband's private Diary were nowread. The first extract related to a period of nearly a yearbefore the date of Mrs. Eustace Macallan's death. It wasexpressed in these terms:

"News, by this morning's post, which has quite overwhelmed me.Helena's husband died suddenly two days since of heart-disease.She is free--my beloved Helena is free! And I?

"I am fettered to a woman with whom I have not a single feelingin common. Helena is lost to me, by my own act. Ah! I canunderstand now, as I never understood before, how irresistibletemptation can be, and how easily sometimes crime may follow it.I had better shut up these leaves for the night. It maddens me tono purpose to think of my position or to write of it."

The next passage, dated a few days later, dwelt on the samesubject.

"Of all the follies that a man can commit, the greatest is actingon impulse. I acted on impulse when I married the unfortunatecreature who is now my wife.

"Helena was then lost to me, as I too hastily supposed. She hadmarried the man to whom she rashly engaged herself before she metwith me. He was younger than I, and, to all appearance, heartierand stronger than I. So far as I could see, my fate was sealedfor life. Helena had written her farewell letter, taking leave ofme in this world for good. My prospects were closed; my hopes hadended. I had not an aspiration left; I had no necessity tostimulate me to take refuge in work. A chivalrous action, anexertion of noble self-denial, seemed to be all that was left tome, all that I was fit for.

"The circumstances of the moment adapted themselves, with a fatalfacility, to this idea. The ill-fated woman who had becomeattached to me (Heaven knows--without so much as the shadow ofencouragement on my part!) had, just at that time, rashly placedher reputation at the mercy of the world. It rested with me tosilence the scandalous tongues that reviled her. With Helena lostto me, happiness was not to be expected. All women were equallyindifferent to me. A generous action would be the salvation ofthis woman. Why not perform it? I married her on thatimpulse--married her just as I might have jumped into the waterand saved her if she had been drowning; just as I might haveknocked a man down if I had seen him ill-treating her in thestreet!

"And now the woman for whom I have made this sacrifice standsbetween me and my Helena--my Helena, free to pour out all thetreasures of her love on the man who adores the earth that shetouches with her foot!

"Fool! madman! Why don't I dash out my brains against the wallthat I see opposite to me while I write these lines?

"My gun is there in the corner. I have only to tie a string tothe trigger and to put the muzzle to my mouth--No! My mother isalive; my mother's love is sacred. I have no right to take thelife which she gave me. I must suffer and submit. Oh, Helena!Helena!"

The third extract--one among many similar passages--had beenwritten about two months before the death of the prisoner's wife.

"More reproaches addressed to me! There never was such a womanfor complaining; she lives in a perfect atmosphere of ill-temperand discontent.

"My new offenses are two in number: I never ask her to play to menow; and when she puts on a new dress expressly to please me, Inever notice it. Notice it! Good Heavens! The effort of my lifeis _not_ to notice her in anything she does or says. How could Ikeep my temper, unless I kept as much as possible out of the wayof private interviews with her? And I do keep my temper. I amnever hard on her; I never use harsh language to her. She has adouble claim on my forbearance---she is a woman, and the law hasmade her my wife. I remember this; but I am human. The less I seeof her--exc ept when visitors are present--the more certain I canfeel of preserving my self-control.

"I wonder what it is that makes her so utterly distasteful to me?She is a plain woman; but I have seen uglier women than she whosecaresses I could have endured without the sense of shrinking thatcomes over me when I am obliged to submit to _her_ caresses. Ikeep the feeling hidden from her. She loves me, poor thing--and Ipity her. I wish I could do more; I wish I could return in thesmallest degree the feeling with which she regards me. But no--Ican only pity her. If she would be content to live on friendlyterms with me, and never to exact demonstrations of tenderness,we might get on pretty well. But she wants love. Unfortunatecreature, she wants love!

"Oh, my Helena! I have no love to give her. My heart is yours.

"I dreamed last night that this unhappy wife of mine was dead.The dream was so vivid that I actually got out of my bed andopened the door of her room and listened.

"Her calm, regular breathing was distinctly audible in thestillness of the night. She was in a deep sleep: I closed thedoor again and lighted my candle and read. Helena was in all mythoughts; it was hard work to fix my attention on the book. Butanything was better than going to bed again, and dreaming perhapsfor the second time that I too was free.

"What a life mine is! what a life my wife's is! If the house wereto take fire, I wonder whether I should make an effort to savemyself or to save her?"

The last two passages read referred to later dates still.

"A gleam of brightness has shone over this dismal existence ofmine at last.

"Helena is no longer condemned to the seclusion of widowhood.Time enough has passed to permit of her mixing again in society.She is paying visits to friends in our part of Scotland; and, asshe and I are cousins, it is universally understood that shecannot leave the North without also spending a few days at myhouse. She writes me word that the visit, however embarrassing itmay be to us privately, is nevertheless a visit that must be madefor the sake of appearances. Blessings on appearances! I shallsee this angel in my purgatory--and all because Society inMid-Lothian would think it strange that my cousin should bevisiting in my part of Scotland and not visit Me!

"But we are to be very careful. Helena says, in so many words, 'Icome to see you, Eustace, as a sister. You must receive me as abrother, or not receive me at all. I shall write to your wife topropose the day for my visit. I shall not forget--do you notforget--that it is by your wife's permission that I enter yourhouse.'

"Only let me see her! I will submit to anything to obtain theunutterable happiness of seeing her!"

The last extract followed, and consisted of these lines only:

"A new misfortune! My wife has fallen ill. She has taken to herbed with a bad rheumatic cold, just at the time appointed forHelena's visit to Gleninch. But on this occasion (I gladly ownit!) she has behaved charmingly. She has written to Helena to saythat her illness is not serious enough to render a changenecessary in the arrangements, and to make it her particularrequest that my cousin's visit shall take place upon the dayoriginally decided on.

"This is a great sacrifice made to me on my wife's part. Jealousof every woman under forty who comes near me, she is, of course,jealous of Helena--and she controls herself, and trusts me!

"I am bound to show my gratitude for this and I will show it.From this day forth I vow to live more affectionately with mywife. I tenderly embraced her this very morning, and I hope, poorsoul, she did not discover the effort that it cost me."

There the readings from the Diary came to an end.

The most unpleasant pages in the whole Report of the Trialwere--to me--the pages which contained the extracts from myhusband's Diary. There were expressions here and there which notonly pained me, but which almost shook Eustace's position in myestimation. I think I would have given everything I possessed tohave had the power of annihilating certain lines in the Diary. Asfor his passionate expressions of love for Mrs. Beauly, every oneof them went through me like a sting. He had whispered wordsquite as warm into my ears in the days of his courtship. I had noreason to doubt that he truly and dearly loved me. But thequestion was, Had he just as truly and dearly loved Mrs. Beaulybefore me? Had she or I--won the first love of his heart? He haddeclared to me over and over again that he had only fanciedhimself to be in love before the day when we met. I had believedhim then. I determined to believe him still. I did believe him.But I hated Mrs. Beauly!

As for the painful impression produced in Court by the readingsfrom the letters and the Diary, it seemed to be impossible toincrease it. Nevertheless it _was_ perceptibly increased. Inother words, it was rendered more unfavorable still toward theprisoner by the evidence of the next and last witness called onthe part of the prosecution.

William Enzie, under-gardener at Gleninch, was sworn, and deposedas follows:

On the twentieth of October, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Iwas sent to work in the shrubbery, on the side next to the gardencalled the Dutch Garden. There was a summer-house in the DutchGarden, having its back set toward the shrubbery. The day waswonderfully fine and--warm for the time of year.

"Passing to my work, I passed the back of the summer-house. Iheard voices inside--a man's voice and a lady's voice. The lady'svoice was strange to me. The man's voice I recognized as thevoice of my master. The ground in the shrubbery was soft, and mycuriosity was excited. I stepped up to the back of thesummer-house without being heard, and I listened to what wasgoing on inside.

"The first words I could distinguish were spoken in my master'svoice. He said, 'If I could only have foreseen that you might oneday be free, what a happy man I might have been!' The lady'svoice answered, 'Hush! you must not talk so.' My master said uponthat, 'I must talk of what is in my mind; it is always in my mindthat I have lost you.' He stopped a bit there, and then he saidon a sudden, 'Do me one favor, my angel! Promise me not to marryagain.' The lady's voice spoke out thereupon sharply enough,'What do you mean?' My master said, 'I wish no harm to theunhappy creature who is a burden on my life; but suppose--''Suppose nothing,' the lady said; 'come back to the house.'

"She led the way into the garden, and turned round, beckoning mymaster to join her. In that position I saw her face plainly, andI knew it for the face of the young widow lady who was visitingat the house. She was pointed out to me by the head-gardener whenshe first arrived, for the purpose of warning me that I was notto interfere if I found her picking the flowers. The gardens atGleninch were shown to tourists on certain days, and we made adifference, of course, in the matter of the flowers betweenstrangers and guests staying in the house. I am quite certain ofthe identity of the lady who was talking with my master. Mrs.Beauly was a comely person--and there was no mistaking her forany other than herself. She and my master withdrew together onthe way to the house. I heard nothing more of what passed betweenthem."

This witness was severely cross-examined as to the correctness ofhis recollection of the talk in the summer-house, and as to hiscapacity for identifying both the speakers. On certain minorpoints he was shaken. But he firmly asserted his accurateremembrance of the last words exchanged between his master andMrs. Beauly; and he personally described the lady in terms whichproved that he had corruptly identified her.

With this the answer to the third question raised by theTrial--the question of the prisoner's motive for poisoning hiswife--came to an end.

The story for the prosecution was now a story told. Thestaunchest friends of the prisoner in Court were compelled toacknowledge that the evidence thus far pointed clearly andconclusively against him. He seemed to feel this himself. When hewithdrew at the close of the third day of the Trial he was sodepressed and exhausted that he was obliged to lean on the arm ofthe governor of the jail.