“Did the prisoner at the bar sleep at home on that night?”
The old man looked into the face of the counsel with such an eye of deprecating entreaty, as shook the voice in which the question was repeated. He then turned about, and, taking a long gaze at his son, rose up, and, extending his hands to the judges, exclaimed:
“My lords, my lords! he is my only son—my only child!”
These words were followed by a pause in the business of the court, and a dead silence of more than a minute.
“If justice,” said the judge, “could on an occasion waive her claim to a subordinate link in the testimony she requires, it would certainly be in a case so painful and affecting as this. Still, we cannot permit personal feeling, however amiable, or domestic attachment, however strong, to impede her progress when redressing public wrong. Although the duty be painful, and we admit that such a duty is one of unexampled agony, yet it must be complied with; and you consequently will answer the question which the counsel has put to you. The interests of society require such sacrifices, and they must be made.”
The old man kept his eyes fixed on the judge while he spoke, but when he had ceased he again fixed them on his son.
“My lord,” he exclaimed again, with clasped hands, “I can't, I can't!”
“There is nothing criminal, or improper, or sinful in it,” replied the judge; “on the contrary, it is your duty, both as a Christian and a man. Remember, you have this moment sworn to tell the truth, and the whole truth; you consequently must keep your oath.”
“What you say, sir, may be right, an' of coorse is; but oh, my lord, I'm not able; I can't get out the words to hang my only boy. If I said anything to hurt him, my heart 'ud break before your eyes. May be you don't know the love of a father for an only son?”
“Perhaps, my lords,” observed the attorney-general, “it would be desirable to send for a clergyman of his own religion, who might succeed in prevailing on him to—”