"The Court proposes to do so," answered DuBois. "Henry Deane, stand up!" and as he did so Bradley uttered a sharp cry and rose to his feet also. In this hour Harry looked indeed a son to be proud of. He showed no fear, and was equally free from that bluster that often cloaks fear, but raised a face calm and cheerful—the face of a man who knows that he has done nothing worthy of blame.
"Henry Deane," said DuBois, "is there anyone in New York who knows you?"
"I do!" shouted John Bradley. "He is my son! My dear son, Henry Deane Bradley;" and with the words he marched to his son's side and threw his arms about his neck.
"Oh, father! father, forgive me!"
"Oh, Harry! Harry! I have nothing to forgive!" and he kissed him in the sight of the whole court, and wept over him like a mother.
The whole affair had been so sudden, so startling and affecting, that it was not at once interrupted. But in a few moments the examination proceeded, DuBois asking, "Do you know the Semples?"
"I have seen them often. I have never spoken to either of them in all my life."
"What took you to their landing, then?"
"I know it so well. When I was a little boy I used to borrow Elder Semple's boat if I wished to fish or row, because I knew they were busy in the city and would not miss it. So I got used to their landing years ago."
"Had you any special reason for going there last night?"