“Well, I just wish I hadn’t; that’s all,” said Smith, wiping his moist forehead. “I’d rather have lost twice the money, than go through with all this again; to say nothing of the awful muss at home, where I don’t know as my own wife will speak to me.”
“Oh, you never fear that—they always do!” said Boyce, with an uneasy attempting to shake off the impression which Mrs. Laurence had left upon him. “Shouldn’t wonder if she forgives you one of these days, hard as she takes it; women are, naturally—well, suppose we say, soft.”
“Silence!” said the judge, on whom the young man was fastening a vague suspicion of treachery. “Come forward, Mrs. Laurence, and make your own statement.”
Mrs. Laurence laid her hand on the railing before her, looked the judge steadily in the face, and answered that she had nothing to say, except that, up to the time of her arrest she had never heard of the robbery, or known that her son was suspected.
“But some of the goods were found on your premises. How do you account for that?” said the judge.
“I do not account for a thing of which I have no knowledge. If stolen property was found there, neither I nor this child had anything to do with it.”
“Then you deny all knowledge of the stolen goods found in the out-house on your premises?”
“I do!”
“And the boy? Step down. He may be able to tell us something. James Laurence!”
James came forward, pale and frightened; but in no way downcast; his eyes clear, honest, and limpid with truth, were lifted almost with confidence to the judge, whose face softened with an irresistible feeling of compassion as he bent it toward him.