At one moment she blamed her own weakness
in suffering the trial of Ralph to progress to a consummation which she
shuddered to reflect upon. Had she a right to withhold her
testimony--testimony so important to the life and the honor of one
person, because others might suffer in consequence--those others the
real criminals, and he the innocent victim? and loving him as she did,
and hating or fearing his enemies? Had she performed her duty in
suffering his case to go to judgment? and such a judgment--so horrible a
doom! Should she now suffer it to go to its dreadful execution, when a
word from her would stay the hand of the officer, and save the life of
the condemned? But would such be its effect? What credence would be
given now to one who, in the hall of justice, had sunk down like a
criminal herself--withholding the truth, and contradicting every word of
her utterance? To whom, then, could she apply? who would hear her plea,
even though she boldly narrated all the truth, in behalf of the
prisoner? She maddened as she thought on all these difficulties; her
blood grew fevered, a thick haze overspread her senses, and she raved at
last in the most wild delirium.
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