After the recovery of Laura from her long illness, did Mrs. Hawkins think there were any signs of insanity about her? Witness confessed that she did not think of it then.
Re-Direct examination. “But she was different after that?”
“O, yes, sir.”
Washington Hawkins corroborated his mother’s testimony as to Laura’s connection with Col. Selby. He was at Harding during the time of her living there with him. After Col. Selby’s desertion she was almost dead, never appeared to know anything rightly for weeks. He added that he never saw such a scoundrel as Selby. (Checked by District attorney.) Had he noticed any change in Laura after her illness? Oh, yes. Whenever, any allusion was made that might recall Selby to mind, she looked awful — as if she could kill him.
“You mean,” said Mr. Braham, “that there was an unnatural, insane gleam in her eyes?”
“Yes, certainly,” said Washington in confusion.
All this was objected to by the district attorney, but it was got before the jury, and Mr. Braham did not care how much it was ruled out after that.
Beriah Sellers was the next witness called. The Colonel made his way to the stand with majestic, yet bland deliberation. Having taken the oath and kissed the Bible with a smack intended to show his great respect for that book, he bowed to his Honor with dignity, to the jury with familiarity, and then turned to the lawyers and stood in an attitude of superior attention.
“Mr. Sellers, I believe?” began Mr. Braham.
“Beriah Sellers, Missouri,” was the courteous acknowledgment that the lawyer was correct.
“Mr. Sellers; you know the parties here, you are a friend of the family?”
“Know them all, from infancy, sir. It was me, sir, that induced Silas Hawkins, Judge Hawkins, to come to Missouri, and make his fortune. It was by my advice and in company with me, sir, that he went into the operation of — ”
“Yes, yes. Mr. Sellers, did you know a Major Lackland?”
“Knew him, well, sir, knew him and honored him, sir. He was one of the most remarkable men of our country, sir. A member of congress. He was often at my mansion sir, for weeks. He used to say to me, ‘Col. Sellers, if you would go into politics, if I had you for a colleague, we should show Calhoun and Webster that the brain of the country didn’t lie east of the Alleganies. But I said — ”
“Yes, yes. I believe Major Lackland is not living, Colonel?”
There was an almost imperceptible sense of pleasure betrayed in the Colonel’s face at this prompt acknowledgment of his title.
“Bless you, no. Died years ago, a miserable death, sir, a ruined man, a poor sot. He was suspected of selling his vote in Congress, and probably he did; the disgrace killed him, he was an outcast, sir, loathed by himself and by his constituents. And I think, sir” — —
The Judge. “You will confine yourself, Col. Sellers to the questions of the counsel.”
“Of course, your honor. This,” continued the Colonel in confidential explanation, “was twenty years ago. I shouldn’t have thought of referring to such a trifling circumstance now. If I remember rightly, sir” —
A bundle of letters was here handed to the witness.
“Do you recognize, that handwriting?”
“As if it was my own, sir. It’s Major Lackland’s. I was knowing to these letters when Judge Hawkins received them. [The Colonel’s memory was a little at fault here. Mr. Hawkins had never gone into details with him on this subject.] He used to show them to me, and say, ‘Col, Sellers you’ve a mind to untangle this sort of thing.’ Lord, how everything comes back to me. Laura was a little thing then. ‘The Judge and I were just laying our plans to buy the Pilot Knob, and — ”
“Colonel, one moment. Your Honor, we put these letters in evidence.”
The letters were a portion of the correspondence of Major Lackland with Silas Hawkins; parts of them were missing and important letters were referred to that were not here. They related, as the reader knows, to Laura’s father. Lackland had come upon the track of a man who was searching for a lost child in a Mississippi steamboat explosion years before. The man was lame in one leg, and appeared to be flitting from place to place. It seemed that Major Lackland got so close track of him that he was able to describe his personal appearance and learn his name. But the letter containing these particulars was lost. Once he heard of him at a hotel in Washington; but the man departed, leaving an empty trunk, the day before the major went there. There was something very mysterious in all his movements.
Col. Sellers, continuing his testimony, said that he saw this lost letter, but could not now recall the name. Search for the supposed father had been continued by Lackland, Hawkins and himself for several years, but Laura was not informed of it till after the death of Hawkins, for fear of raising false hopes in her mind.
Here the District Attorney arose and said,
“Your Honor, I must positively object to letting the witness wander off into all these irrelevant details.”
Mr. Braham. “I submit your honor, that we cannot be interrupted in this manner. We have suffered the state to have full swing. Now here is a witness, who has known the prisoner from infancy, and is competent to testify upon the one point vital to her safety. Evidently he is a gentleman of character, and his knowledge of the case cannot be shut out without increasing the aspect of persecution which the State’s attitude towards the prisoner already has assumed.”
The wrangle continued, waxing hotter and hotter. The Colonel seeing the attention of the counsel and Court entirely withdrawn from him, thought he perceived here his opportunity, turning and beaming upon the jury, he began simply to talk, but as the grandeur of his position grew upon him — his talk broadened unconsciously into an oratorical vein.
“You see how she was situated, gentlemen; poor child, it might have broken her heart to let her mind get to running on such a thing as that. You see, from what we could make out her father was lame in the left leg and had a deep scar on his left forehead. And so ever since the day she found out she had another father, she never could run across a lame stranger without being taken all over with a shiver, and almost fainting where she stood. And the next minute she would go right after that man. Once she stumbled on a stranger with a game leg; and she was the most grateful thing in this world — but it was the wrong leg, and it was days and days before she could leave her bed.
Once she found a man with a scar on his forehead and she was just going to throw herself into his arms, but he stepped out just then, and there wasn’t anything the matter with his legs. Time and time again, gentlemen of the jury, has this poor suffering orphan flung herself on her knees with all her heart’s gratitude in her eyes before some scarred and crippled veteran, but always, always to be disappointed, always to be plunged into new despair — if his legs were right his scar was wrong, if his scar was right his legs were wrong. Never could find a man that would fill the bill. Gentlemen of the jury; you have hearts, you have feelings, you have warm human sympathies; you can feel for this poor suffering child. Gentlemen of the jury, if I had time, if I had the opportunity, if I might be permitted to go on and tell you the thousands and thousands and thousands of mutilated strangers this poor girl has started out of cover, and hunted from city to city, from state to state, from continent to continent, till she has run
