“But, my boy—” began the old man.
“Don’t hesitate, father, but go,” cried Luke; and the old man hurried off.
Part 3, Chapter VI.
The Case for the Prosecution.
It was a strange stroke of fate that, in spite of several attempts to evade the duty, circumstances so arranged themselves that Luke Ross found himself literally forced, for his reputation’s sake, to go on with his obnoxious task, and at last the day of trial came.
Luke had passed a sleepless night, and he entered the court, feeling excited, and as if all before him was a kind of dream.
For a few minutes he had not sufficient self-possession even to look round the well of the building; and it was some time before he ventured to scan the part that would be occupied by the spectators. Here, however, for the time being, his eyes remained riveted, as a choking sensation attacked him, for, seated beside the sturdy, well-remembered figure of the Churchwarden, was a careworn, youngish woman, so sadly altered that Luke hardly recognised her as the Sage whose features were so firmly printed on his memory.
She evidently did not see him, but was watching the jury-box, and listening to some remarks made to her from time to time by her uncle.