I have said nothing specific thus far as to the outer being of Mary Turner--except as to filmed eyes and a huddled form.But, in a happier situation, the girl were winning enough.Indeed, more! She was one of those that possess an harmonious beauty, with, too, the penetrant charm that springs from the mind, with the added graces born of the spirit.Just now, as she sat, a figure of desolation, there on the bed in the Tombs cell, it would have required a most analytical observer to determine the actualities of her loveliness.Her form was disguised by the droop of exhaustion.Her complexion showed the pallor of sorrowful vigils.Her face was no more than a mask of misery.
Yet, the shrewd observer, if a lover of beauty, might have found much for delight, even despite the concealment imposed by her present condition.Thus, the stormy glory of her dark hair, great masses that ran a riot of shining ripples and waves.And the straight line of the nose, not too thin, yet fine enough for the rapture of a Praxiteles.And the pink daintiness of the ear-tips, which peered warmly from beneath the pall of tresses.
One could know nothing accurately of the complexion now.But it were easy to guess that in happier places it would show of a purity to entice, with a gentle blooming of roses in the cheeks.
Even in this hour of unmitigated evil, the lips revealed a curving beauty of red--not quite crimson, though near enough for the word; not quite scarlet either; only, a red gently enchanting, which turned one's thoughts toward tenderness--with a hint of desire.It was, too, a generous mouth, not too large;still, happily, not so small as those modeled by Watteau.It was altogether winsome--more, it was generous and true, desirable for kisses--yes!--more desirable for strength and for faith.
Like every intelligent woman, Mary had taken the trouble to reinforce the worth of her physical attractiveness.The instinct of sex was strong in her, as it must be in every normal woman, since that appeal is nature's law.She kept herself supple and svelte by many exercises, at which her companions in the chamber scoffed, with the prudent warning that more work must mean more appetite.With arms still aching from the lifting of heavy bolts of cloth to and fro from the shelves, she nevertheless was at pains nightly to brush with the appointed two hundred strokes the thick masses of her hair.Even here, in the sordid desolation of the cell, the lustrous sheen witnessed the fidelity of her care.
So, in each detail of her, the keen observer might have found adequate reason for admiration.There was the delicacy of the hands, with fingers tapering, with nails perfectly shaped, neither too dull nor too shining.And there were, too, finally, the trimly shod feet, set rather primly on the floor, small, and arched like those of a Spanish Infanta.In truth, Mary Turner showed the possibilities at least, if not just now the realities, of a very beautiful woman.
Naturally, in this period of grief, the girl's mind had no concern with such external merits over which once she had modestly exulted.All her present energies were set to precise recollection of the ghastly experience into which she had been thrust.
In its outline, the event had been tragically simple.
There had been thefts in the store.They had been traced eventually to a certain department, that in which Mary worked.
The detective was alert.Some valuable silks were missed.
Search followed immediately.The goods were found in Mary's locker.That was enough.She was charged with the theft.She protested innocence--only to be laughed at in derision by her accusers.Every thief declares innocence.Mr.Gilder himself was emphatic against her.The thieving had been long continued.An example must be made.The girl was arrested.
The crowded condition of the court calendar kept her for three months in the Tombs, awaiting trial.She was quite friendless.
To the world, she was only a thief in duress.At the last, the trial was very short.Her lawyer was merely an unfledged practitioner assigned to her defense as a formality of the court.
This novice in his profession was so grateful for the first recognition ever afforded him that he rather assisted than otherwise the District Attorney in the prosecution of the case.
At the end, twelve good men and true rendered a verdict of guilty against the shuddering girl in the prisoner's dock.
So simple the history of Mary Turner's trial....The sentence of the judge was lenient--only three years!
