A few days after, Warren was called into court to take his trial; and, to Rodney's great delight,—for he had learned to love him like a brother,—he heard from one of the nurses that he had been honorably acquitted.
During the same week, the case of Rodney was called up, and he was conducted by an officer to the court-house.
CHAPTER XI.
THE TRIAL.
USTICE was now to be administered, and Rodney was brought into the crowded court-room for trial. The officer led him to the prisoner's narrow dock, an enclosed bench, at each end of which sat a constable, with a long staff in his hand. There were five or six other prisoners sitting in the dock with him. Next to him was a woman, her garments ragged, her hair matted, and her face red and bloated. Next to her sat a squalid negro, who seemed totally indifferent to the scenes that were passing around him. On the other side of him was a young man, apparently about twenty years old, of thin, spare form, with a red flush at intervals coloring his cheek, and a hollow cough that sounded like an echo from the grave. He was evidently in a deep consumption, and had been already several months in prison. And he leaned his head upon the railing, as though he would hide himself from every eye. He had been tried a few days before, for having been associated with others in a burglary, and found guilty, and he was now present to hear his sentence.
After the formal opening of the court, this young man was the first called upon, and, with trembling limbs, he rose to hear the sentence of the judge. After some remarks upon the enormity of his crime, and the clear evidence upon which he had been convicted, the judge sentenced him to five years' imprisonment in the penitentiary. When those words, five years, reached him, he dropped back upon the seat, as if struck with a bullet, and then raising his face to the judge, with an expression of profound anguish, said, "Half the time would be more than enough, your honor; I shall be in the grave before one year is past."
The case of the negro-man was immediately called up, but Rodney heard nothing of it. He hid his face in his hands, and wept. A sense of his terrible position flashed upon him, and he could not keep back his tears, or stifle his sobs. He wept aloud, and felt, though he might not see, that all eyes were turned upon him. His whole frame shook with the anguish of his soul.
Presently a hand was laid upon his, and a head was bent over the bar near him, and a voice addressed him kindly: "Be calm, my boy; there is no good in crying; who is your counsel?"