"Opposite me, in the carriage, little Charley, who, dimly realized
apparently that some trouble had come to me, was crying bitterly, and a
rough personage was endeavoring to quiet his sobbing.
"The personage in question was a constable. When I fainted at the
grave, my friends had caught me in their arms--protested with burning
indignation that the charge against me was a base calumny--and the
magistrate who was summoned by Judge Conway to arrest me, had declined
to do more than direct a constable to escort me home, and see that I
did not attempt to escape.
"That was kind. I was a murderer, and my proper place a jail. Why
should _I_ be more favored than some poor common man charged with that
crime? Had such a person been confronted with such a charge, supported
by such damning evidence as the bloody knife, would any ceremony have
been observed? 'To jail!' all would have cried, 'No bail for the
murderer!' And why should the rich Mr. Davenant be treated with more
consideration?
"On the day after my arrest--I spare you all the harrowing scenes, my
poor wife's agony, and every thing, colonel--on the day after, I got
into my carriage, and went and demanded to be confined in jail. It was
the first time a Davenant had ever been _in jail_--but I went thither
without hesitation, if not without a shudder.
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