Read "The Verdict" by Edgar Saltus online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
In sheer relief, Jones sat back.
"But," Rochester resumed, "none the less, I killed her."
Aridly, across the novelist's face there passed a smile.
"Though I am not imaginative enough to believe in fate, I am sufficiently commonplace to believe in an evil conscience. It was that that killed her."
Rochester shook his head.
"No, it was I."
Jones, knife in hand, turned on his friend.
"You are ridiculous, that's what you are. The essence of crime is the intent, and in the absence of intention, though you were tried for it, as you might have been, you would be acquitted. But I appreciate now as I never did before the attitude of the physicians and the coroner. Knowing nothing of your pistol and less of her conscience, finding no evidence of violence, and having no reason to suspect anything else, they swallowed what you told them. It was adroit and, in view of the circumstances, excusable. On the other hand, if you had made a soiled breast of it, while you might have needed bail, not for a moment would you have been in jeopardy."
"You're a novelist! " retorted Rochester, who perhaps knew better -- or worse.
Jones glanced at the knife.
"Now what are you to do? You tell me that you have been trying to get away from yourself and failed."
Rochester, suffocating a sigh, took it up.
"Remorse prevented me."
"Remorse? " Jones angrily repeated. "Rubbish! You failed because you thought of nothing but your precious self. To get away from it, you've got to think not of yourself, but of others. As for your remorse, it is medieval. Penitents used to expiate it in prayer. The most commendable form of prayer is a good deed. By the same token, the most important word in the dictionary is ‘duty. ' You have one to perform -- don't you realize it?"
Uncertainly Rochester nodded.
"I had thought of the front."
"The front! What earthly use could you be in that red galley?"
"I had thought, too, of joining the Trappists."
"The Trappists! When you can have the world for monastery!"
Uneasily, in the spaciousness of that, Rochester squirmed.