“Well, well, then, as we've no clerk, and I have written nothing but my name these seven years,” said Borfield, offering the pen to young Stapleton, “suppose, Master Martin, you take down the prisoner's confession.”
“Pardon me, sir,” said Martin; “that I never will do.”
“Then we must adjourn the examination for an hour,” said Borfield; “let the prisoner be searched, and conveyed to a place of security. I will specially swear in the earth-stopper and my man to assist you, Abel; my man shall remain in the room with you, and the earth-stopper may watch outside the door: be attentive, earth-stopper.”
“And above all things,” added Abel, “take care that his dog don't get in.”
“Doan't'ee be aveard o' he, Yeabel,” said Saul, “I ha' killed un, poor blade!—It were the last zhot I shall zhoot. He ha' done much mischief vor I, poor dumb beast, and he might ha' done more vor a worser man;—vor I reckon I bean't zo bad az zome be, and that's a comvort.—I knocked up varmer Zalter, and borrowed his double-barrelled gun, to gi'e the dog his dose. Ponto knowed what a gun were, well enough; but he zeemed to vancy I were in vun like, when I pointed the muzzle o't to un; vor ay wagged his tail and looked as pleasant up in my vace, that be dashed iv I weren't vorced to zhut my eyes avore I could pull the trigger. But, oh! Master Martin, iv you had but heard his one zhort deep howl, you'd ha' gone 'mazed—that is—iv you were I. Truly, I do think, I zhould ha' zhot myzelf iv 'tweren't vor two things:—Virst, I couldn't ha' vreed poor dear Bob, bless un! iv I had; and next, I'd a' given my word and hand to varmer Zalter, I wouldn't harm myzelf avore he'd lend me his gun.”
Martin now asked his father's permission to offer Saul a little refreshment; the 'squire immediately acceded to his request, and the kind-hearted young gentleman whispered Sam, in Saul's hearing, to get a little brandy from the housekeeper. Braintree, however, much to Martin's surprise, requested that no liquor might be brought for his use. “Master Martin,” said he, “it yean't wi' me, as'twere last night I be past the help o' brandy, now:—I be done vor. Ponto's gone, and I zhall zoon vollow un; he did'nt deserve it,—nor I neither, may be;—but I zhall ba't though, vor all that But Bob zhall be vreed—no offence, justices; but, d'ye hear?—Bob zhall be vree! My buoy zhan't never zuffer vor I. No, no, that wouldn't be like Zaul Braintree;—eh Master Martin?—would it, neighbours?—My wife zhan't say to I again, as zhe did, poor zoul, last night, 'Zaul, thee hast murdered my zon—'tean't pleasant—Your servant, Justice Borfield: you ha' been my ruin, 'zquire Ztapleton; but I doan't bear malice; I do vorgive'ee wi' all my heart—Will'ee be zo good as to make vriends, zir, and think o' Meg, if aught zhould happen to me?—will'ee, zir—will'ee—will'ee!”
Saul stretched forth his hand across the table, and Stapleton, apparently without knowing what he did, or, possibly, actuated by a return of those kind feelings which he had entertained for Saul, twenty years before, so far forgot his own character and situation and those of the prisoner, that he put forth his hand towards that of Braintree; a short but hearty mutual squeeze ensued, and Braintree immediately left the room, closely followed by Abel Harris, the earth-stopper, and Justice Borfield's man. He had scarcely proceeded a dozen steps from the door, when, as if something of importance had suddenly occurred to him, he turned about, and earnestly inquired for the young 'squire. Martin was soon by his side. “Master Martin,” said Saul, “there be one thing I've a' got to zay to'ee—”
“Your wife, I suppose, Braintree—”
“No, no, not zhe; I zpoke to 'zquire about zhe:—besides, Bob will be vree, and won't zee poor Meg lack pine zhe will—but he can't help that.”
“Can I do any thing for you?” inquired Martin.