"Sir Boyvill showed tact in thus bringing forward only that party, whose act none could do other than reprobate, and who was the object of Gerard's liveliest hatred. His face lightened up with something of pleasure--his eye flashed fire; to prove to the world the guilt and violence of the wretch who had torn his mother from him was indeed a task of duty and justice. A little more forbearance on his father's part had wound him easily to his will: but the policy Sir Boyvill displayed was involuntary, and his next words overturned all. 'Your miserable mother,' he continued, 'must bear her share of infamy; and if she be not wholly hardened, it will prove a sufficient punishment. When the events of to-morrow reach her, she will begin to taste of the bitter cup she has dealt out so largely to, others. It were folly to pretend to regret that--I own that I rejoice.' "Every idea now suffered revulsion, and the stream of feeling flowed again in its old channels. What right had his father to speak thus of the beloved and honoured parent he had so cruelly lost? His blood boiled within him, and, despite childish fear and reverence, he said, 'If my mother will grieve or be injured by my appearing to-morrow, I will not go--I cannot.' "'You are a fool to speak thus,' said his father, 'a galless animal, without sense of pride or duty. Come, sir, no more of this. You owe me obedience, and you must pay it on this occasion. You are only bid speak the truth, and that you must speak. I had thought, notwithstanding your youth, higher and more generous motives might be urged--a father's honour vindicated--a mother's vileness punished.' "'My mother is not vile!' cried Gerard, and there stopped; for a thousand things restrain a child's tongue; inexperience, reverence, ignorance of the effect his words may produce, terror at the mightiness of the power with which he has to contend. After a pause, he muttered, 'I honour my mother; I will tell the whole world that she deserves honour.' "'Now, Gerard, on my soul,' cried Sir Boyvill, roused to anger, as parents too easily are against their offspring when they show any will of their own, while they expect to move them like puppets; 'on my soul, my fine fellow, I could find it in my heart to knock you down. Enough of this; I don't want to terrify you: be a good boy to-morrow, and I will forgive all.' "'Forgive me now, father,' cried the youth, bursting into tears; 'forgive me and spare me! I cannot obey you; I cannot do anything that will grieve my mother; she loved me so much--I am sure she loves me still--that I cannot do her a harm. I will not go to-morrow.'