Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy: Volumes 1 to 3 (of 3)Reade, Charles
General
Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy: Volumes 1 to 3 (of 3)
Reade, Charles
Bigamy -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
"In the next place, I agree with the learned counsel that I was out
of doors at one o'clock that morning. But if he will use me as his
witness in that matter, then he must not pick and choose and mutilate
my testimony. Nay, let him take the whole truth, and not just so much
as he can square with the indictment. Either believe me, that I was out
of doors praying, or do not believe me that I was out of doors at all.
"Gentlemen, hear the simple truth. You may see in the map, on the south
side of Hernshaw Castle, a grove of large fir-trees. 'Tis a reverend
place, most fit for prayer and meditation. Here I have prayed a
thousand times and more before the fifteenth October. Hence 'tis called
'the Dame's haunt' as I shall prove, that am the dame 'tis called after.
"Let it not seem incredible to you that I should pray out of doors in
my grove, on a fine clear starry night. For aught I know, Protestants
may pray only by the fireside. But, remember, I am a Catholic. We
are not so contracted in our praying. We do not confine it to little
comfortable places. Nay, but for seventeen hundred years and more we
have prayed out of doors as much as in doors. And this our custom is
no fit subject for a shallow sneer. How does the learned sergeant know
that, beneath the vault of heaven at night, studded with those angelic
eyes, the stars, is an unfit place to bend the knee, and raise the soul
in prayer? Has he ever tried it?"
This sudden appeal to a learned and eminent, but by no means
devotional, sergeant, so tickled the gentlemen of the bar, that they
burst out laughing with singular unanimity.
This dashed the prisoner, who had not intended to be funny; and she
hesitated, and looked distressed.
_The Judge._ Proceed, madam; these remarks of yours are singular, but
quite pertinent, and no fit subject for ridicule. Gentlemen, remember
the public looks to you for an example.
_Prisoner._ My Lord, 'twas my fault for making that personal which
should be general. But women they are so. 'Tis our foible. I pray the
good Sergeant to excuse me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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