34. CHAPTER XXXIV.
HEROISM.
The attorney-general immediately made out the necessary
legal process to enable him to enforce the attendance of the reluctant
witness, caused it to be served upon her, and informed her,
in as mild a tone as his habitual harshness could be softened into,
that she must come upon the stand.
She paid no heed to him, nor to the severer voice in which the
judge informed her that she must obey; and when the sheriff, in
obedience to the mandate of the court, advanced and laid his
hand upon her arm, she gave utterance to a scream and partially
swooned.
In that condition she was brought forward, and placed upon a
chair on the witness stand, and when a glass of water had been
put to her pale lips, and a draught of air had been admitted from
an adjacent window, she revived and looked wildly around, seeming
yet scarcely conscious of her position.
The prosecutor being convinced that so reluctant a witness must
have decisive evidence to give, eagerly proceeded to his examination.
The oath was recited to her inattentive ears, the Bible was
pressed against her unresisting lips, and a thousand heads bent
forward to catch the first tones of that voice which few doubted
must prove fatal to the hapless prisoner.
Ruth saw them not. She saw only the saddened face of Harry
Vrail, and the alarmed expression of Counsellor Strong, each of
whom was gazing intently at her. At that moment a marked
change came over her countenance, a sudden color suffused her
fair, pale cheeks, her eye kindled with unusual light, and rested
with a proud, defiant look upon the lawyer, whose first questions,
in a conciliatory tone, had just fallen upon her ear.
“Ruth, do you know the prisoner at the bar? Have you ever
seen him before, and if so, please to tell the jury when and
where?”
Such were the questions to which, amidst the profoundest
silence, all ears awaited an answer. But no answer came; and
after allowing time for the child to recover from her embarrassment,
the question was repeated in a yet milder tone. Still there was
no reply, nor did Ruth's countenance give any indication of embarrassment
or hesitation.
Again and again were the interrogations repeated with slight
variations in terms, but soon with a decided change of tone.
Severity took the place of gentleness, and wrath flashed from the
lawyer's eyes, as, in a loud voice, he commanded a reply, warning
her, at the same time, to remember her oath.
Ruth remained silent. Her countenance did not change. Her
eye, unquailing, met the fierce gaze of her questioner, and her
compressed lips spoke the firmness of her resolution. Only the
silent heaving of her chest evinced her deep emotion.
The attorney-general now informed the witness that she would
be compelled to testify, and that it was in his power to send her
immediately to prison if she continued refractory.
His threats and persuasions proving unavailing, the judge next
addressed her, with great dignity, yet with a kind air. He
informed her that it was the duty of every good and loyal citizen
to give evidence against crime; that she had no legal or moral
right to withhold her testimony out of regard for the prisoner,
and that her plain and only duty was to tell the truth, regardless
of consequences.
“Did she understand this?” he asked.
Ruth gazed on him as she had at the attorney-general, with
the same fixed look, and in the same imperturbable silence.
“It is no idle threat,” the judge continued, “which the prosecuting
attorney has made. He has full power to commit you to
jail, and I am sorry to say it will become his duty to do so, if
you do not answer.”
There was an increased color in the child's cheeks, but no
voice issued from her lips, which might have been marble for any
sign of opening which they gave.
“It would be a sad thing,” continued his lordship, “to place a
young, fair girl, like you, within the stone walls of a solitary cell,
to remain night and day alone, to live on felon's fare, and sleep
on a felon's cot. Do you not think so?”
No answer.
“This is no jest, Ruth! The laws must be sustained, and to
jail you will certainly go, if you do not testify. Do not think,
either, that your imprisonment will be brief. It may last for
months, aye, years, and this trial can be postponed to await the
end of your contumacy. What do you say to this?”
Ruth said to this exactly what she had said to all the rest
—nothing.
“We are talking to a statue,” said the judge. “The attorney-general
must do his duty.”
That officer had made out the necessary process for committing
the witness, while the judge was addressing her, and now placed
it in the sheriff's hands, still believing that it would not become
necessary to execute it, and that she would yield at the last.
He was mistaken. Ruth trembled, indeed, when the sheriff
approached her and informed her that she must accompany him,
but she obeyed in silence. Sobs were heard from every part of
the ladies' quarter of the room, and almost every man rose to
catch a more distinct view of the heroic girl as she passed from
the apartment.
“Who is your next witness, Mr. Gale?” said the Judge, as soon
as quiet was restored; and the prisoner's counsel, whose late
hopes had been revived and increased, were surprised to see that
the prosecuting officer appeared by no means disconcerted at the
question of his lordship; but that, on the contrary, there was an
unusual determination expressed in his face as he rose to reply.
“If it please your lordship,” he said, “I now propose to take a
step which I had by no means anticipated could become necessary
in a case like this, where the guilt of the accused is so certain
and ought to have been so easily susceptible of proof. But the
enormity of the offence with which he stands charged, and a due
regard for the vindication of the law, and the safety of the province,
seem to me to justify a resort to those extreme measures for
procuring evidence which such emergencies require. There is
now lying in the city prison, a colored man who was arrested in
company with the prisoner, and who, like him, was a fugitive from
the brigand army. He is, I am told, an intelligent person, and in
every respect a competent witness, and, with your permission, I
shall call him to the stand.”
“You are aware that he must be discharged from custody, if
we make use of him as a witness?”
“Most certainly. I am prepared to enter a nolle prosequi upon
the indictment against him. The ends of justice scarcely require
such a victim, and no harm can result from his release. He has
evidently been the dupe of wiser heads, or rather of whiter ones,
for there seems to have been no wisdom in the affair at all.”
“Let him be sent for, if you desire it, Mr. Gale. The court
has no disposition to interfere with your management of the case.”
“The sheriff will then please to dispatch a messenger at once
for the witness, and I hope the court will instruct the officer to
see that no individual is allowed to have speech with the negro
until he is placed upon the stand.”
Gale gave an angry glance at Mr. Strong as he made this
remark, as if he would insinuate that the contumacy of Ruth had
been the result of his advice or procurement.
“That is very proper,” replied his lordship; “the sheriff will see
to it.”
Strong smiled quietly, and drummed with his fingers upon the
table, without reply.
Three minutes sooner, at the very instant that Gale had
broached his project of making black Brom a Queen's evidence,
the vigilant barrister had turned partly round upon his chair, and
fixed his expressive eye upon one of his agents, an ex-bailiff,
named Welton, a small, slim man, with a very wide-awake look,
who immediately comprehended that something was expected of
him in connection with the proposed movement. He returned
the gaze of the lawyer with an earnest and intelligent look, and
the latter, as soon as he saw that the attention of his agent was
fully arrested, slowly turned his eyes toward the door of the
court-room, and then glanced in the direction of the city prison,
at the same time resting a finger a moment on his lips.
Welton fully understood this pantomime, and taking his hat, he
slowly sauntered out of the room, but no sooner was the door
closed behind him than he started with the speed of the racecourse
for the jail. His former official capacity had made him
well acquainted with the jailer and wardens, and he had no difficulty
in obtaining immediate access to the cell of Brom, whom he
found partaking leisurely of a choice dinner.
“You are Brom, Mr. Vrail's man,” said Welton, breathlessly, as
he approached the bars, “ain't you?”
“Yes,” exclaimed the negro, jumping up and coming eagerly
forward; “is Massa Harry free? is he got off?”
“No—but he will be, unless they can get you to be a witness
against him. They are coming for you now, and they will be
here in a few minutes. They want to make you swear that he
was in the battle, for they can't prove it by any one else.”
“Guy!” exclaimed the negro, snapping his fingers, and cutting
as much of a caper as his narrow quarters would permit; “don't
be afraid of me. I won't swear—I swear I won't.”
“But they will offer you your freedom.”
“Nebber mind what they offer me—jis don't you be afraid of
Brom. Brom knows. Won't Massa Harry be right there before
him, and Missa Gertrude, too? Do you think dey goin' to make
Brom swear away Massa Harry's life? No, sir, not if dey should
hang me twenty times over, and den twenty times more on top of
that, and then I wouldn't.”
The negro was so energetic in his protestations that he had
well-nigh upset his dinner-table, and Welton became satisfied that
nothing was to be feared from his want of loyalty to his master,
however much might be apprehended from his want of discretion.
“But they may get something out of you unawares,” he added.
“Lawyer Strong thinks the safest course is for you not to say a
word when they question you. If you begin to speak, you may
let something slip out that will hang your master, after all.”
Brom promised the utmost discretion; and Welton, who did
not wish to be found there by the sheriff when he came after the
witness, hastened away.
