"It's not evidence, knave," thundered Jeffries, unable to restrain himself under the half-suppressed merriment of the court. "Is the witness forthcoming? Is he dead? Is he buried? Is he gone to the devil by your ghostly counsels? It is not evidence, sir. Take it away, and yourself too, for fear I have the gown stripped off your back. You shall not long disgrace the bench."
"Faith, my lord, if I do, I am not the only one," replied Doctor M'Feely, walking away; but, ere he had taken many steps, pushing a path through his fellow-magistrates, Jeffries recollected himself a little, and called out aloud, "Here, fellow--you parson!--give me the paper. Let me look at it."
Doctor M'Feely seemed to be suddenly stricken with a fit of deafness, and walked on deliberately; but those whom he was passing at the moment heard him say, as if to himself, "Don't I know better? He's just in a humor to tear every thing to pieces--why not this? No, no, I know what I will do;" and, getting into the court below, he forced his way to a spot just behind Mr. Danes, and spoke to him in a whisper over his shoulder. Mr. Danes in turn whispered to an elderly counselor before him, who turned round his grave, hard-lined face, and said, "Good! We will use it in some way, if need be. The very tendency will have its effect upon the jury."
Doctor M'Feely remained standing where he was during the whole of the events which succeeded, although his fat sides suffered severely from the pressure of the crowd.
The little incident of the sparring between the parson and the judge had withdrawn the attention of the spectators from the dock, and when heads were turned round and eyes bent in that direction, Ralph Woodhall was seen standing between two jailers. Every one knows the impression produced by a fine person and dignified bearing, even upon a court of justice; and, as the young gentleman stood there, his handsome face, athletic form, and calm, resolute demeanor, had no slight influence in his favor. He fixed his eyes for a moment or two upon the judge, and then let them run round the court. There was no loved face to greet him--no look of encouragement for his support--nothing but a sea of unknown, indifferent faces gazing at him as an object of curiosity.
Some forms were gone through, and then at once the counsel for the prisoner rose. Jeffries would fain have refused to listen to him at that stage of the proceedings; but he insisted, and the harsh judge knew his man too well--his firmness, his quiet, persevering courage, and his profound knowledge of law to resist too far. He was permitted to speak, and at once took an objection to the competence of the court. He pointed out that the venue had not been changed, and that the case ought to be tried in Norfolk. It required but little argument to show that the law of the land was entirely on his side; and that argument was placed in the plainest and briefest form.
Jeffries was furious. He looked over his desk to a little man sitting near his feet, and asked him a question. The reply was in a very low and humble tone; but it stirred up the wrath of the judge still higher. His face became actually purple, and he poured forth upon the poor man's head a torrent of invective, of which the words "knave, villain, and pitiful impostor" were the lightest ornaments. A vast string of very blasphemous oaths was added; and then, having thus vented his first fury, he consulted for a few moments with the counsel for the crown, whom he beckoned up; and then, raising his great coarse voice as if addressing the whole court, he said, "Look you here now! See what law is, and how carefully it protects the subject! There stands a murderer--a man who should not be suffered to cumber the face of earth one hour longer than needful--a bad fellow--always a bad fellow from his cradle--and yet some of the officers of the crown--drunken knaves, I warrant--having neglected, or, perhaps, been bribed--to neglect their duty in a matter of mere form--a thing of no moment--this fellow thinks that he will protract his life for some miserable months to come. He must be a cowardly villain, to wish to live on in a prison--"
"I wish a fair trial, by a just judge," said Ralph, in a firm, loud tone, which startled even Jeffries.
"Hold your tongue, knave!" cried the judge; "we will fit you. You shall be disappointed of your fine project. You may gain a few hours, but no more. You shall be hanged before I quit Dorchester, if I live. See here, now, what a fellow this is! There are no less than three charges against this man. One for murder--cold-blooded, premeditated murder--one under the statute regarding conformity--and one for high treason. The indictment is ready; but he must have a copy, and time to read it. Oh, yes, he shall have a copy--but we will fit him." Then, leaning forward a little, he looked full at Ralph's counsel, and said bitterly, "You have gained so much for your man, sir, and you shall not say I overstepped the law. Oh no, sir! You strive to withdraw him from justice, but you sha'n't succeed."
"You mistake, my lord," replied the counsel, "I have no intention of charging you with overstepping the law; and still more do you mistake in supposing that I wished to withdraw this honorable and noble-minded young man from fair trial and justice. Had I done so, I should have taken another course. As the venue is laid in Dorsetshire, and the indictment, on its very face, alleges the crime charged to have been committed in Norfolk, I should have suffered the trial to proceed to a verdict, and then pointed out the flaw in the indictment; but, in consultation with this honorable and very high-spirited gentleman last night, I agreed, at his suggestion, to raise the objection at once, in order to show that he shrunk not from a fair trial, but only claimed the same rights as other British subjects."