Prisoner. Excuse me; I engaged you on her word alone. Now, who is this Mrs. Hamilton?
Ryder. A worshipful lady I served for eight months before I came to you. She went abroad, or I should be with her now.
Prisoner. Now cast your eye over this paper.
It was the copy of a marriage certificate between Thomas Edwards and Caroline Plunkett.
"Who is this Caroline Plunkett?"
Ryder turned very pale, and made no reply.
"I ask you who is this Caroline Plunkett?"
Ryder (faintly). Myself.
Judge. Why, you said you were single!
Ryder. So I am; as good as single. My husband and me we parted eight years ago, and I have never seen him since.
Prisoner. Was it quite eight years ago?
Ryder. Nearly, 'twas in May, 1739.
Prisoner. But you have lived with him since.
Ryder. Never, upon my soul.
Prisoner. When was your child born?
Ryder. My child! I have none.
Prisoner. In January, 1743, you left a baby at Biggleswade, with a woman called Church,—did you not?
Ryder (panting). Of course I did. It was my sister's.
Prisoner. Do you mean to call God to witness that child was not your's?
Ryder hesitated.
Prisoner. Will you swear Mrs. Church did not see you suckle that child in secret, and weep over it?
At this question the perspiration stood visible on Ryder's brow, her cheeks were ghastly, and her black eyes roved like some wild animal's round the court. She saw her own danger, and had no means of measuring her inquisitor's information.
"My lord, have pity on me. I was betrayed, abandoned. Why am I so tormented? I have not committed murder." So, catlike, she squealed and scratched at once.
Prisoner. What! to swear away an innocent life, is not that murder?
Judge. Prisoner, we make allowances for your sex, and your peril, but you must not remark on the evidence at present. Examine as severely as you will, but abstain from comment till you address the jury on your defence.
Sergeant Wiltshire. My lord, I submit that this line of examination is barbarous, and travels out of the case entirely.
Prisoner. Not so, Mr. Sergeant. 'T is done by advice of an able lawyer. My life is in peril, unless I shake this witness's credit. To that end I show you she is incontinent, and practised in falsehood. Unchastity has been held in these courts to disqualify a female witness, hath it not, my lord?
Judge. Hardly. But to disparage her evidence it has. And wisely; for she who loses her virtue enters on a life of deceit; and lying is a habit that spreads from one thing to many. Much wisdom there is in ancient words. Our forefathers taught us to call a virtuous woman an honest woman, and the law does but follow in that track; still, however, leaving much to the discretion of the jury.
Prisoner. I would show her more mercy than she has shown to me. Therefore I leave that matter. Witness, be so good as to examine Mrs. Hamilton's letter, and compare it with your own. The "y's" and the "s's" are peculiar in both, and yet the same. Come, confess, Mrs. Hamilton's is a forgery. You wrote it. Be pleased to hand both letters up to my lord to compare; the disguise is but thin.
Ryder. Forgery there was none. There is no Mrs. Hamilton. (She burst into tears.) I had my child to provide for, and no man to help me! What was I to do? A servant must live.
Prisoner. Then why not let her mistress live, whose bread she has eaten? My lord, shall not this false witness be sent hence to prison for perjury?
