In the days to come, when the divine leaven which is in the world to-day shall have brought more of the carnal mind’s iniquity to the surface, that the Sun of Truth may destroy the foul germs, there shall be old men and women, and they which, looking up from their work, peep and mutter of strange things long gone, who shall fall wonderingly silent when they have told again of the fair young girl who walked alone into the crowded court room that cold winter’s morning. And their stories will vary with the telling, for no two might agree what manner of being it was that came into their midst that day.

Even the bailiffs, as if moved by some strange prescience, had fallen back and allowed her to enter alone. The buzz of subdued chatter ceased, and a great silence came over all as they looked. Some swore, in awed whispers, when the dramatic day had ended, and judge and jury and wrangling lawyer had silently, and with bowed heads, gone quiet and thoughtful each to his home, that a nimbus encircled her beautiful head when she came through the door and faced the gaping multitude. Some said that her eyes were raised; that she saw not earthly things; and that a heavenly presence moved beside her. Nor may we lightly set aside these tales; for, after the curtain had fallen upon the wonderful scene about to be enacted, there was 231 not one present who would deny that, as the girl came into the great room and went directly to the witness chair, God himself walked at her side and held her hand.

“Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”

Through the mind of that same white-haired man in the clerical garb ran these words as he watched the girl move silently across the room. She seemed to have taken on a new meaning to him since the previous day. And as he looked, his eyes grew moist, and he drew out his handkerchief.

But his were not the only eyes that had filled then. Hitt and Haynerd bent their heads, that the people might not see; Miss Wall and the Beaubien wept silently, and with no attempt to stay their grief; Jude buried her head in her hands, and rocked back and forth, moaning softly. Why they wept, they knew not. A welter of conflicting emotions surged through their harassed souls. They seemed to have come now to the great crisis. And which way the tide would turn rested with this lone girl.

For some moments after she was seated the silence remained unbroken. And as she sat there, waiting, she looked down at the man who sought to destroy what he might not possess. Some said afterward that as she looked at him she smiled. Who knows but that the Christ himself smiled down from the cross at those who had riven his great heart?

But Ames did not meet her glance. Somehow he dared not. He was far from well that morning, and an ugly, murderous mood possessed him. And yet, judged by the world’s standards, he had tipped the crest of success. He had conquered all. Men came and went at his slightest nod. His coffers lay bursting with their heavy treasure. He was swollen with wealth, with material power, with abnormal pride. His tender sensibilities and sympathies were happily completely ossified, and he was stone deaf and blind to the agonies of a suffering world. Not a single aim but had been realized; not a lone ambition but had been met. Even the armed camp at Avon, and the little wooden crosses over the fresh mounds there, all testified to his omnipotence; and in them, despite their horrors, he felt a satisfying sense of his own great might.

The clerk held up the Bible for the girl to give her oath. She looked at him for a moment, and then smiled. “I will tell the truth,” she said simply.

The officer hesitated, and looked up at the judge. But the latter sat with his eyes fixed upon the girl. The clerk did not press the point; and Carmen was delivered into the hands of the lawyers.

Cass hesitated. He knew not how to begin. Then, yielding to a sudden impulse, he asked the girl to mention briefly the place of her birth, her parentage, and other statistical data, leading up to her association with the defendant.

The story that followed was simply given. It was but the one she had told again and again. Yet the room hung on her every word. And when she had concluded, Cass turned her back again to SimitÍ, and to Rosendo’s share in the mining project which had ultimated in this suit.

A far-away look came into the girl’s eyes as she spoke of that great, black man who had taken her from desolate Badillo into his own warm heart. There were few dry eyes among the spectators when she told of his selfless love. And when she drew the portrait of him, standing alone in the cold mountain water, far up in the jungle of GuamocÓ, bending over the laden batea, and toiling day by day in those ghastly solitudes, that she might be protected and educated and raised above her primitive environment in SimitÍ, there were sobs heard throughout the room; and even the judge, hardened though he was by conflict with the human mind, removed his glasses and loudly cleared his throat as he wiped them.

Ames first grew weary as he listened, and then exasperated. His lawyer at length rose to object to the recital on the ground that it was largely irrelevant to the case. And the judge, pulling himself together, sustained the objection. Cass sat down. Then the prosecution eagerly took up the cross-examination. Ames’s hour had come.

“Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth,” murmured the white-haired man in the clerical garb far back in the crowded room. Had he learned the law of Truth to error, “Thou shall surely die”? Did he discern the vultures gnawing at the rich man’s vitals? Did he, too, know that this giant of privilege, so insolently flaunting his fleeting power, his blood-stained wealth and his mortal pride, might as well seek to dim the sun in heaven as to escape the working of those infinite divine laws which shall effect the destruction of evil and the establishment of the kingdom of heaven even here upon earth?

Ames leaned over to whisper to Hood. The latter drew Ellis down and transmitted his master’s instructions. The atmosphere grew tense, and the hush of expectancy lay over all.

“Miss Carmen,” began Ellis easily, “your parentage has been a matter of some dispute, if I mistake not, and––”

Cass was on his feet to object. What had this question to do with the issue?

But the judge overruled the objection. That was what he was there for. Cass should have divined it by this time.

“H’m!” Ellis cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “And your father, it is said, was a negro priest. I believe that has been accepted for some time. A certain Diego, if I recall correctly.”

“I never knew my earthly father,” replied Carmen in a low voice.

“But you have admitted that it might have been this Diego, have you not?”

“It might have been,” returned the girl, looking off absently toward the high windows.

“Did he not claim you as his daughter?” pursued the lawyer.

“Yes,” softly.

“Now,” continued Ellis, “that being reasonably settled, is it not also true that you used the claim of possessing this mine, La Libertad, as a pretext for admission to society here in New York?”

The girl did not answer, but only smiled pityingly at him. He, too, had bartered his soul; and in her heart there rose a great sympathy for him in his awful mesmerism.

“And that you claimed to be an Inca princess?” went on the merciless lawyer.

“Answer!” admonished the judge, looking severely down upon the silent girl.

Carmen sighed, and drew her gaze away from the windows. She was weary, oh, so weary of this unspeakable mockery. And yet she was there to prove her God.

“I would like to ask this further question,” Ellis resumed, without waiting for her reply. “Were you not at one time in a resort conducted by Madam Cazeau, down on––”

He stopped short. The girl’s eyes were looking straight into his, and they seemed to have pierced his soul. “I am sorry for you,” she said gently, “oh, so sorry! Yes, I was once in that place.”

The man knew not whether to smile in triumph or hide his head in shame. He turned to Hood. But Hood would not look at him. Ames alone met his embarrassed glance, and sent back a command to continue the attack.

Cass again rose and voiced his protest. What possible relation to the issue involved could such testimony have? But the judge bade him sit down, as the counsel for the prosecution doubtless was bringing out facts of greatest importance.

Ellis again cleared his throat and bent to his loathsome task. “Now, Miss Ariza, in reference to your labors to incite the mill hands at Avon to deeds of violence, the public considers 234 that as part of a consistent line of attack upon Mr. Ames, in which you were aiding others from whom you took your orders. May I ask you to cite the motives upon which you acted?”

Cass sank back in abject despair. Ketchim was being forgotten!

“We have not attacked Mr. Ames,” she slowly replied, “but only the things he stands for. But you wouldn’t understand.”

Ellis smiled superciliously. “A militant brand of social uplift, I suppose?”

“No, Mr. Ellis, but just Christianity.”

“H’m. And that is the sort of remedy that anarchists apply to industrial troubles, is it not?”

“There is no remedy for industrial troubles but Christianity,” she said gently. “Not the burlesque Christianity of our countless sects and churches; not Roman Catholicism; not Protestantism; nor any of the fads and fancies of the human mind; but just the Christianity of Jesus of Nazareth, who knew that the human man was not God’s image, but only stood for it in the mortal consciousness. And he always saw behind this counterfeit the real man, the true likeness of God. And––”

“You are diverging from the subject proper and consuming time, Miss Ariza!” interrupted the judge sternly.

Carmen did not heed him, but continued quietly:

“And it was just such a man that Jesus portrayed in his daily walk and words.”

“Miss Ariza!” again commanded the judge.

“No,” the girl went calmly on, “Jesus did not stand for the intolerance, the ignorance, the bigotry, the hatred, and the human hypothesis, the fraud, and chicanery, and the ‘Who shall be greatest?’ of human institutions. Nor did he make evil a reality, as mortals do. He knew it seemed awfully real to the deceived human consciousness; but he told that consciousness to be not afraid. And then he went to work and drove out the belief of evil on the basis of its nothingness and its total lack of principle. The orthodox churches and sects of to-day do not do that. Oh, no! They strive for world dominion! Their kingdom is wholly temporal, and is upheld by heartless millionaires, and by warlike kings and emperors. Their tenets shame the intelligence of thinking men! Yet they have slain tens of millions to establish them!”

What could the Court do? To remove the girl meant depriving Ames of his prey. But if she remained upon the stand, she would put them all to confusion, for they had no means of silencing her. The judge looked blankly at Ames; his hands were tied.

Ellis hurried to change the current of her talk by interposing another question.

“Will you tell us, Miss Carmen, why you have been working––”

“I have been working for God,” she interrupted. Her voice was low and steady, and her eyes shone with a light that men are not wont to see in those of their neighbors. “I have not been working for men. He alone is my employer. And for Him I am here to-day.”

Consternation was plainly discernible in the camp of the prosecution. Cass knew now that he need make no more objections. The defense had passed from his hands.

At this juncture James Ketchim, brother of the defendant, thinking to relieve the strain and embarrassment, gave audible voice to one of his wonted witticisms. All turned to look at him. But the effect was not what he had anticipated. No one laughed.

“Hold your tongue, Mr. Ketchim!” roared the exasperated judge, bending far over his desk. “You are just a smart little fool!” And the elder Ketchim retired in chagrin and confusion.

“Miss Carmen,” pursued Ellis, eager to recover his advantage, for he saw significant movements among the jury, “do you not think the unfortunate results at Avon quite prove that you have allied yourself with those who oppose the nation’s industrial progress?”

Carmen sat silent. Order had now been restored in the court room, and Ellis was feeling sure of himself again.

“You have opposed the constructive development of our country’s resources by your assaults upon men of wealth, like Mr. Ames, for example, have you not?”

Then the girl opened her mouth, and from it came words that fell upon the room like masses of lead. “I stand opposed to any man, Mr. Ellis, who, to enrich himself, and for the purpose of revenge, spreads the boll weevil in the cotton fields of the South.”

Dull silence descended upon the place. And yet it was a silence that fell crashing upon Ames’s straining ears. He sat for a moment stunned; then sprang to his feet. All eyes were turned upon him. He held out a hand, and made as if to speak; then sank again into his chair.

Ellis stood as if petrified. Then Hood rose and whispered to him. Ellis collected himself, and turned to the judge.

“Your Honor, we regret to state that, from the replies which Miss Ariza has given, we do not consider her mentally competent as a witness. We therefore dismiss her.”

But Cass had leaped to the floor. “Your Honor!” he cried. “I should like to examine the witness further!”

“She is dismissed!” returned the judge, glowering over his spectacles at the young lawyer.

“I stand on––”

“Sit down!” the judge bellowed.

“Miss Carmen!” called Cass through the rising tumult, “the lawyer for the prosecution has heaped insults upon you in his low references to your parentage. Will you––”

The judge pounded upon his desk with the remnant of his broken gavel. Then he summoned the bailiffs.

“I shall order the room cleared!” he called in a loud, threatening voice.

The murmur subsided. The judge sat down and mopped his steaming face. Hood and Ellis bent in whispered consultation. Ames was a study of wild, infuriated passion. Cass stood defiantly before the bar. Carmen sat quietly facing the crowded room. She had reached up and was fondling the little locket which hung at her throat. It was the first time she had ever worn it. It was not a pretty piece of jewelry; and it had never occurred to her to wear it until that day. Nor would she have thought of it then, had not the Beaubien brought it to the Tombs the night before in a little box with some papers which the girl had called for. Why she had put it on, she could not say.

Slowly, while the silence continued unbroken, the girl drew the slender chain around in front of her and unclasped it.

“I––I never––knew my parents,” she murmured musingly, looking down lovingly at the little locket. Then she opened it and sat gazing, rapt and absorbed, at the two little portraits within. “But there are their pictures,” she suddenly announced, holding the locket out to Cass.

It was said afterward that never in the history of legal procedure in New York had that court room held such dead silence as when Cass stood bending over the faces of the girl’s earthly parents, portrayed in the strange little locket which Rosendo had taken from Badillo years before. Never had it known such a tense moment; never had the very air itself seemed so filled with a mighty, unseen presence, as on that day and in that crisal hour.

Without speaking, Hood rose and looked over Cass’s shoulder at the locket. A muffled cry escaped him, and he turned and stared at Ames. The judge bent shaking over his desk.

“Mr. Hood!” he exclaimed. “Have you ever seen those pictures before?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Hood in a voice that was scarcely heard.

“Where, sir?”

Hood seemed to have frozen to the spot. His hands shook, and his words gibbered from his trembling lips.

“The––the woman’s portrait, sir––is––is––the one in––in Mr. Ames’s yacht!”

“My God!”

The piercing cry rang through the still room like a lost soul’s despairing wail. Ames had rushed from his seat, overturning his chair, thrusting the lawyers aside, and seized the locket. For a moment he peered wildly into it. It seemed as if his eyes would devour it, absorb it, push themselves clean through it, in their eagerness to grasp its meaning.

Then he looked up. His eyes were red; his face ashen; his lips white. His unsteady glance met the girl’s. His mouth opened, and flapped like a broken shutter in the wind. His arms swung wildly upward; then dropped heavily. Suddenly he bent to one side; caught himself; straightened up; and then, with a horrifying, gurgling moan, crashed to the floor. The noise of the tremendous fall reverberated through the great room like an echo of Satan’s plunge into the pit of hell.

Pandemonium broke upon the scene. Wild confusion seized the excited spectators. They rushed forward in a mass, over railings, over chairs and tables, heedless of all but the great mystery that was slowly clearing away in the dim light that winter’s morning. Through them the white-haired man, clad in clerical vestments, elbowed his way to the bar.

“Let me see the locket!” he cried. “Let me see it!”

He tore it from Hood’s hand and scanned it eagerly. Then he nodded his head. “The same! The very same!” he murmured, trembling with excitement. Then, shouting to the judge above the hubbub:

“Your Honor! I can throw some light upon this case!”

The crowd fell back.

“Who are you?” called the judge in a loud, quavering voice.

“I am Monsignor Lafelle. I have just returned from Europe. The woman’s portrait in this little locket is that of DoÑa Dolores, Infanta, daughter of Queen Isabella the Second, of Spain! And this girl,” pointing to the bewildered Carmen, who sat clinging to the arms of her chair, “is her child, and is a princess of the royal blood! Her father is the man who lies there––J. Wilton Ames!”