“No one, I believe, doubts the sense of justice which Judge Temple entertains!” returned Edwards bitterly.
“But let us converse calmly, sir. Will not the years, the habits, nay, the ignorance of my old friend, avail him any thing against this charge?”
“Ought they? They may extenuate, but can they ac quit? Would any society be tolerable, young man, where the ministers of justice are to be opposed by men armed with rifles? Is it for this that I have tamed the wilder ness?”
“Had you tamed the beasts that so lately threatened the life of Miss Temple, sir, your arguments would apply better.”
“Edwards!” exclaimed Elizabeth.
“Peace, my child,” interrupted the father; “the youth is unjust; but I have not given him cause. I overlook thy remark, Oliver, for I know thee to be the friend of Natty, and zeal in his behalf has overcome thy discretion.”
“Yes, he is my friend,” cried Edwards, “and I glory in the title. He is simple, unlettered, even ignorant; prejudiced, perhaps, though I feel that his opinion of the world is too true; but he has a heart, Judge Temple, that would atone for a thousand faults; he knows his friends, and never deserts them, even if it be his dog.”
“This is a good character, Mr. Edwards,” returned Marmaduke, mildly; “but I have never been so fortunate as to secure his esteem, for to me he has been uniformly repulsive; yet I have endured it, as an old man's whim, However, when he appears before me, as his judge, he shall find that his former conduct shall not aggravate, any more than his recent services shall extenuate, his crime.”
“Crime!” echoed Edwards: “is it a crime to drive a prying miscreant from his door? Crime! Oh, no, sir; if there be a criminal involved in this affair, it is not he.”
“And who may it be, sir?” asked Judge Temple, facing the agitated youth, his features settled to their usual composure.