"Yes."

"You were awakened that night by some
noise, I believe. What was it?"

The old man's eyes fixed themselves upon his
questioner with a look of a creature brought to
bay. That look the barrister never forgets. It
will haunt him till his dying day.

"It was a throwing up of stones against our
window."

"Did you hear it at first ?"

"No."

"What awakened you, then?"

"She did."

"And then you both heard the stones. Did
you hear nothing else?"

A long pause. Then a low, clear "Yes."

"What?"

"Our Benjamin asking us for to let him in.
She said as it were him, leastways."

"And you thought it was him, did you not?"

"I told her" (this time in a louder voice) "for
to get to sleep, and not to be thinking that every
drunken chap as passed by were our Benjamin,
for that he were dead and gone."

"And she?"

"She said as though she'd heerd our Benjamin
afore she were welly awake, axing for to be
let in. But I bade her ne'er heed her dreams, but
turn on her other side, and get to sleep again."

"And did she?"

A long pause,—judge, jury, bar, audience, all
held their breath. At length Nathan said,

"No!"

"What did you do then? (My lord I am
compelled to ask these painful questions.)"

"I saw she wadna be quiet; she had allays
thought he would come back to us, like the
Prodigal i' th' Gospels." (His voice choked a little,
but he tried to make it steady, succeeded, and
went on.) "She said if I wadna get up she
would; and just then I heerd a voice. I'm
not quite mysel, gentlemen—I've been ill and
i' bed, an' it makes me trembling-like. Some
one said, 'Father, mother, I'm here, starving i'
the cold—wunnot yo' get up and let me in?'"

"And that voice was?"

"It were like our Benjamin's. I see whatten
yo're driving at, sir, and I'll tell yo' truth,
though it kills me to speak it. I dunnot say it
were our Benjamin as spoke, mind yo'—I only
say it were like— "

"That's all I want, my good fellow. And on
the strength of that entreaty, spoken in your
son's voice, you went down and opened the door
to these two prisoners at the bar, and to a
third man?"

Nathan nodded assent, and even that counsel
was too merciful to force him to put more
into words.

"Call Hester Huntroyd."

An old woman, with a face of which the eyes
were evidently blind, with a sweet, gentle, care-
worn face, came into the witness-box, and
meekly curtseyed to the presence of those
whom she had been taught to respect—a
presence she could not see.

There was something in her humble, blind
aspect, as she stood waiting to have something
done to her—what, her poor troubled mind
hardly knew—that touched all who saw her,
inexpressibly. Again the counsel apologised, but
the judge could not reply in words; his face
was quivering all over, and the jury looked
uneasily at the prisoners' counsel. That gentleman
saw that he might go too far, and send their
sympathies off on the other side; but one or two
questions he must ask. So, hastily recapitulating
much that he had learned from Nathan, he said,
"You believed it was your son's voice asking to
be let in?"

"Ay! Our Benjamin came home, I'm sure;
choose where he is gone."

She turned her head about, as if listening for
the voice of her child, in the hushed silence of
the court.

"Yes; he came home that night—and your
husband went down to let him in?"

"Well! I believe he did. There was a great
noise of folk down stair."

"And you heard your son Benjamin's voice
among the others?"

"Is it to do him harm, sir?" asked she, her
face growing more intelligent and intent on the
business in hand.

"That is not my object in questioning you.
I believe he has left England, so nothing you
can say will do him any harm. You heard your
son's voice, I say?"

"Yes, sir. For sure, I did."

"And some men came up-stairs into your
room? What did they say ?"

"They axed where Nathan kept his stocking."

'"And you—did you tell them?"

"No, sir, for I knew Nathan would not like
me to."

"What did you do then?"

A shade of reluctance came over her face,
as if she began to perceive causes and
consequences.

"I just screamed on Bessy—that's my niece,
sir."

"And you heard some one shout out from the
bottom of the stairs?"

She looked piteously at him, but did not
answer.

"Gentlemen of the jury, I wish to call your
particular attention to this fact: she acknowledges
she heard some one shout—some third
person, you observe—shout out to the two
above. What did he say? That is the last
question I shall trouble you with. What did
the third person, left behind down stairs, say?"

Her face worked—her mouth opened two or
three times as if to speak—she stretched out
her arms imploringly; but no word came, and she
fell back into the arms of those nearest to her.
Nathan forced himself forward into the witness-
box:

"My Lord Judge, a woman bore ye, as I
reckon; it's a cruel shame to serve a mother so.
It wur my son, my only child, as called out for
us t' open door, and who shouted out for to
hold th' oud woman's throat if she did na stop