Oh that miserable witness! One could swear from the glassy look of his eyes that then also, during those awful questions, he could see nothing. The sweat rolled down his miserable face. That savage barrister appeared to him as a devil sent direct from the infernals, for his express behoof; so unmercifully did he tear him, and lacerate him; twenty times did he make him declare his own shame in twenty different ways. Oh! what a prize for a clever, sharp, ingenious, triumphant Counsellor Allewinde, that wicked false witness, with his shallow, detected device. He played with him like a cat does with a mouse—now letting him go for a moment, with the vain hope that he was to escape—then again pouncing on him, and giving him a fresh tear; till at last, when the young man was desired to leave the chair, one was almost inclined to detest the ingenuity of the ferocious lawyer more than the iniquity of the false witness.
This case was now over; the bailiff again held up his head; the landlord gained his cause; the farmer was sent to prison, and the blind and deaf witness sneaked out of town in shame and disgrace. This came of not letting well alone.
The Wednesday was now advanced, and it was settled that there would not be time for the great murder case, as poor Thady's affair was called. Besides, Mr. Allewinde was also to conduct that, and he wanted some rest after his exertions; and as he walked out with triumph, some minor cases were brought forward for disposal, and Mr. O'Laugher rushed into the other court to defend Terence O'Flanagan before Mr. Justice Kilpatrick, against the assaults made upon his pocket by that willow-wearing spinster, Letitia Murphy.
In rushed also all the loungers from the other court. In such a place as Carrick-on-Shannon, a breach of promise of marriage case is not an every day treat, and, consequently, men are determined to make the most of it. Counsellor O'Laugher runs his hands through his dark grey hair, opens wide his light blue eye, pulls out the needful papers from that bottomless bag, and though but the other moment so signally defeated in the other court, with sure trust in his own resources prepares for victory.
The case is soon stated. Mr. Terence O'Flanagan, with five hundred a-year, profit rents, out of the town and neigbourhood of Mannhamilton, has, to the palpable evidence of the whole and next baronies, been making up, as the phrase goes, to Letty Murphy, for the last six months. This has been no case of Bardell v. Pickwick, but a real downright matter of love-making on the one side, and love made on the other. Letters, too have been written, and are now to be read in court, to the great edification of the unmarried jury, and amusement of the whole assemblage; and the deceitful culprit has gone so far as to inform the father, Murphy, that he has a thousand pounds saved to settle, if he, the father, has another to add to it. All these things Mr. O'Malley puts forward on behalf of the injured Letty, in his opening speech, and then proceeds to bring evidence to prove them.
In the first place the father gives his evidence, and is cross-examined with great effect by Mr. O'Laugher; then the letters are read, and are agreed by all to be very affectionate, proper, agreeable love-letters; there is no cross-questioning them, for though answered, they will not answer; and our friend, who escaped but just now melancholy from the porter drinkers in his bed-room, is brought forward to prove the love-makings of the delinquent.
All Mr. O'Malley's questions he answers with great readiness and fluency, for it was for the purpose of answering them that he came forward. He states without hesitation that love-making to a considerable extent has been going on; that to his knowledge, and in his presence, most particular attentions have been paid by Mr. Terence to Miss Letty; that they have sat together, talked together, walked together, and whispered together to such an extent, that in his, the witness's, mind, they had for some time past been considered to be a regularly engaged couple; and that, moreover, he had himself seen Mr. Terence O'Flanagan squeezing the hand of Miss Letty. Having declared so much on behalf of the lady, he also was handed over to Mr. O'Laugher to be made to say what he could on behalf of the gentleman.
In answer to different questions, he stated that he himself was a middle-aged gentleman, about forty—a bachelor moving in good society—sufficiently so to be acquainted with its usages; that he was in the habit of finding himself in company with ladies—married ladies and single; he confessed, after some interlocutions, that he did prefer the company of the latter, and that he preferred the good-looking to the plain—the young to the old; he would not state whether he had made up his own mind on the subject of matrimony, and had a very strong objection to inform the jury whether he was engaged. Was his objection insurmountable? Yes, it was; whereupon it was decided by the court that the witness need not answer the question, as he could not be called on to criminate himself. He had, probably, however, been in love? suggested Mr. O'Laugher; but he wouldn't say that he had. A little smitten, perhaps? Perhaps he had. Was, perhaps, of a susceptible heart? No answer. And accustomed to Cupid's gentler wounds? No answer. Hadn't he usually in his heart a prepossession for some young lady? Mr. O'Laugher must insist on having an answer to this question; as it was absolutely necessary the jury should know the nature of a witness's temperament, whose evidence was chiefly one of opinion, and not of facts; how could they otherwise know what weight to give to his testimony? Hadn't he usually a prepossession in his heart for some young lady? There was a great deal of hesitation about this question, but at last he was got to inform the jury on his oath that he usually—in fact always—did entertain such a prepossession. Was he not fond of conversing with the lady who for the time might be the object of this feeling? He supposed he was. Of walking with her? No, not particularly of walking with her. Did he never walk with his loved one? He didn't think he ever did, except by accident. Weren't such happy accidents of frequent occurrence? They might be. Weren't they gratifying accidents when they did occur? Why, yes; he supposed they were. Then he was fond of walking with his loved one? Why, taking it in that way, he supposed he was. Mr. O'Laugher supposed so too. Did he never whisper to this loved object? No, never. What, never? Never. What; could he swear that he had never whispered to the present object of his adoration? He had no object of adoration. Well, then, object of love? He had no object of love; that is, he wouldn't say whether he had or not. He thought it very hard that he should be asked all these questions. Well, then, object of prepossession. Could he swear that he had never whispered with the present object of his prepossession? Never—except in church; that was to say, he couldn't tell. Never except in church—never walk with her except by accident! Mr. O'Laugher surmised that the witness was a very cautious fellow—quite an old bird—not to be caught with chaff. Did he never sit by her? Sit by who? By the object of his prepossession? He supposed he might, at dinner, or at a party, or a concert or a ball.
"What! sit by the object you love best at a concert, and not whisper to her between the tunes—and you a Connaught man!" said Mr. O'Laugher. "Come, mend your reputation a little; wasn't that a slip you made, when you said now you'd never whispered to her at a concert?" Perhaps he had at a concert. "Well, now, I thought so. I thought by your complexion you wouldn't sit by a pretty girl, and take no notice of her. Did you never squeeze a girl's hand while you were whispering to her?" He couldn't remember. "Now, on your oath did you never squeeze a girl's hand?" He might have done so. "Did you never put your arm round a girl's waist?" At last the witness owned he might have done even that. "And now, one question, and I've done. Did you never kiss a girl?" No answer. "Come, that's the last. After all you've owned you needn't haggle at that; out with it, man, it must come at last. Did you never kiss a girl?" Alas for the sake of morality, the witness was at length obliged to own that he had perpetrated the enormity. "And," asked Mr. O'Laugher with a look of great surprise, "were you never proceeded against for damages? Was an action for breach of promise of marriage never brought against you?"
No, never; the witness had never been in such a predicament.