"At length he was addressed: 'Young gentleman, are you ready?' and he was led into that stately chamber--fit for solemn and high debate--thronged with the judges of his mother's cause. There was a dimness in his eye--a tumult in his heart that confused him, while on his appearance there was first a murmur, then a general hush. Each regarded him with compassion as they discerned the marks of suffering in his countenance. A few moments passed before he was addressed; and when it was supposed that he had had time to collect himself, the proper officer administered the oath, and then the barrister asked him some slight questions, not to startle, but to lead back his memory by insensible degrees to the necessary facts. The boy looked at him with scorn--he tried to be calm, to elevate his voice; twice it faltered--the third time he spoke slowly but distinctly: 'I have sworn to speak the truth, and I am to be believed. My mother is innocent.' "'But this is not the point, young gentleman,' interrupted his interrogator; 'I only asked if you remembered your father's house in Cumberland.' "The boy replied more loudly, but with broken accents--'I have said all I mean to say--you may murder me, but I will say no more--how dare you entice me into injuring my mother?' "At the word, uncontrollable tears burst forth, pouring in torrents down his burning cheeks. He told me that he well remembers the feeling that rose to his tongue, instigating him to cry shame on all present--but his voice failed, his purpose was too mighty for his young heart; he sobbed and wept; the more he tried to control the impulse, the more hysterical the fit grew--he was taken from the bar, and the peers, moved by his distress, came to a resolve that they would dispense with his attendance, and be satisfied by hearing his account of the transaction from those persons to whom he made it at the period when it occurred. I will now mention, that the result of this judicial inquiry was, a decree of divorce in Sir Boyvill's favour. "Gerard, removed from the bar, and carried home, recovered his composure--but he was silent--revolving the consequences which he expected would ensue from disobedience. His father had menaced to turn him out of doors, and he did not doubt but that this threat would be put into execution, so that he was somewhat surprised that he was taken home at all; perhaps they meant to send him to a place of exile of their own choosing, perhaps to make the expulsion public and ignominious. The powers of grown-up people appear so illimitable in a child's eyes, who have no data whereby to discover the probable from the improbable. At length the fear of confinement became paramount; he revolted from it; his notion was to go and seek his mother--and his mind was quickly made up to forestall their violence, and to run away.