Country life -- Juvenile fiction; Fathers and sons -- Juvenile fiction; Grandfathers -- Juvenile fiction
Charlie Pickett, sitting back among the spectators, felt the hot blood
surge into his face, and the paternal passion flood his heart. He
longed to take this boy at once in his arms,--this boy whose frank
acknowledgment of his fault had brought tears to a hundred eyes, whose
simple story of dreadful daring for conscience’ sake had thrilled every
breast in the court room,--to take him at once into the shelter of his
love, and keep him and protect him against all the world.
But Marshall was asking his last question.
“Have you anything more to say, Dannie, in extenuation of your conduct?
I do not know what action, if any, the officers of the D. V. & E. will
take against you. Your offence was certainly a serious one. But, in
view of any possible punishment they may have in mind for you, I want
to give you this opportunity for any further explanation you may wish
to make.”
“I’ve nothing more to say,” replied Dannie, wearily; “I’ve told you
all. I’m ready to be punished for what I’ve done. I made up my mind to
that before I came here. I’m willin’ to go to jail; except that I’d be
sorry for the disgrace I’d brought on Gran’pap an’ Aunt Martha. They
brought me up to be honest an’ good. An’ I’d be sorry on account of my
father, too, very sorry, if he should ever know about it. But I’ve no
complaint to make, an’ I’ll try to stand whatever comes without cryin’.”
Yet even as he spoke, the boy’s lips trembled, and great tears filled
his eyes. He could not help thinking of those gloomy and forbidding
cells in the county jail.
A gentleman who had been sitting inside the bar, listening intently
to the testimony, came over hurriedly and whispered to Marshall. The
latter rose at once from his chair, and said to Dannie:--
“Mr. Rayburn, the general manager of the D. V. & E. just informs me
that his company will not prosecute you for your offence against the
law. He says he believes that your conscience, has already punished
you with sufficient severity to say nothing of what you have endured
in forcing your way here through this terrible storm to set us right
on what has been, heretofore, an unexplainable mystery. Moreover, he
wishes me to thank you for your frank and manly statement of the facts.
That is all. You may leave the stand.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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