Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXIV, May 1852, Vol. IV

"I was," said Antonio.

"State now to the jury what it was that led you to go there."

Antonio recollected that what first attracted his attention and led him to go out, was seeing Rodolphus and the other boys going by with their lantern, and hearing their suppressed voices; and he perceived that if he went any further in his testimony he should prove Rodolphus to be guilty; so he stopped, and after a moment's pause, he turned to the judge, and asked whether he could not be excused from giving any more testimony.

"On what ground do you wish to be excused?" said the judge.

"Why, what I should say," said Antonio, "might go against the boy, and I don't wish to say any thing against him."

"You can not be excused," said the judge, shaking his head. "It is very often painful to give testimony against persons accused of crime, but it is a duty which must be performed."

"But there is a special reason," said Antonio, "in this case."

"What is the reason?" said the judge.

Antonio hesitated. At length he said timidly,

"His sister saved my life."

Here there was a pause. The preferring such a request, to be excused from testifying, and for such a reason, is a very uncommon occurrence in a court. The judge, the jury, the lawyers, and all the spectators looked at Antonio, who stood upon the witness's stand all the time, turning his face toward the judge, awaiting his decision.

After a pause the judge said,

"Your unwillingness to do any thing to injure the brother of a girl who saved your life, does you honor, and I would gladly excuse you if I could, but it is not in my power. The ends of justice require that you should give your testimony, whatever the consequences may be."

"What would be done," asked Antonio, "if I should refuse to do so?"

"Then you would be sent to prison yourself," said the judge, "for contempt of court."

"And suppose I am willing to go to prison," said Antonio, "rather than testify against Ellen's brother; can I do so?"

The judge looked a little perplexed. What answer he would have given to this question we do not know, for he was prevented from answering it, by the county attorney, who here rose and said,

"May it please your honor, I will withdraw this witness for the present. I shall be glad to get along without his testimony, if possible, and perhaps I can."

Antonio then left the stand, very much relieved. Rodolphus wondered who would be called next. His heart sank within him, when he saw an officer who had gone out a moment before, come in and lead Gilpin to the witness-stand.

It is customary in almost all countries, whenever a crime is committed, and it is not possible to ascertain who committed it by any ordinary proofs, to allow any one of the accomplices who is disposed to do so, to come forward and inform against the rest, and then to exempt him from punishment in consideration of his so doing. It seems very base for one person to lead another into sin, or even to join him in it, and then to assist in bringing his accomplice to punishment, in order to escape it himself. But they who combine to commit crimes, must be expected to be base. Gilpin was so. There seemed to be nothing noble or generous in his nature. As soon as he found out that Rodolphus was suspected, he feared that Rodolphus would confess, and then that he should himself be seized. Accordingly, he went immediately to Mr. Kerber, and told him that he knew all about the robbery, and that he would tell all about it, if they would agree that he should not come to any harm.

This arrangement was finally made. They, however, seized Gilpin, and shut him up, so as to secure him for a witness, and he had been in prison ever since Rodolphus's arrest, though Rodolphus knew nothing about it. Christopher had run away the moment he heard of Rodolphus's arrest, and nothing had since been heard of him. Gilpin was now brought forward to give his testimony.

There was a great contrast in his appearance, as he came upon the stand, from that of Antonio. He looked guilty and ashamed, and he did not dare to turn his eyes toward Rodolphus at all. He could not go forward himself and tell a connected story, but he made all his statements in answer to questions put to him by the county attorney. He, however, in the end, told all. He explained how Rodolphus had first cut a hole in the partition, and then he narrated the conversation which the boys had held together behind the wall. He told about the tools, and the dark lantern, and the breaking in; also about going to the corn-barn, burying the box, and then of the accidental setting of the straw on fire, and of Antonio's suddenly coming in among them. In a word, the whole affair was brought completely to light. Mr. Keep questioned Gilpin afterward very closely, to see if he would contradict himself, and so prove that the story which he was telling, was not true; but he did not contradict himself, and finally he went away.

There were no witnesses to be offered in favor of Rodolphus, and very little to be said in his defense. When, at length, the trial was concluded, the jury conferred together a little in their seats, and then brought in a verdict of guilty.

The next day Rodolphus was sentenced to ten days' solitary confinement in the jail, and after that, to one year of hard labor in the state prison.

V. THE FLIGHT

Two or three days after Rodolphus's trial, Ellen, who had done every thing she could to cheer and comfort her mother in her sorrow, told her one morning that she desired to go and see her uncle Randon that day.

"Is it about Rodolphus?" asked her mother.

"Yes, mother," said Ellen.

"Well, you may go," said her mother; "but I don't think that any thing will do any good now."

After all her morning duties had been performed, about the house, Ellen put on her bonnet, and taking Annie by the hand, in order that she might lead her to school, she set out on the way to her uncle's. She left Annie at school as she passed through the village, and she arrived at her uncle's about ten o'clock.

Her uncle had been married again. His present wife was a very strong and healthy woman, who was almost all the time busily engaged about the farm work, but she was very fond of Ellen, and always glad to see her at the farm. When Ellen arrived at the farm, on this occasion, she went in at the porch door as usual. There was no one in the great room. She passed through into the back entry. From the back entry she went into the back room – the room where in old times she used to shut up her kitten.

This room was now used as a dairy. There was a long row of milk-pans in it, upon a bench. Mrs. Randon was there. She seemed very glad to see Ellen, and asked her to walk into the house.

Ellen said that she came to see her uncle. So her aunt went with her out into the yard where her uncle was at work; he was mending a harrow.

"Well, Ellen," said her uncle, "I am very glad to see you. But I am sorry to hear about poor Rodolphus."

"Yes," said Ellen, "but I have thought of one more plan. It's of no use to keep him from going to the state prison, even if we could, unless we can get a good place for him. Now what I wish is, that if we can get him free, you would let him come and live here with you. Perhaps you could make him a good boy."

Mr. Randon leaned upon the handle of his broad ax, and seemed to be at a loss what to say. He looked toward his wife.

"Yes," said she, "let him come. I should like to have him come very much. We can make him a good boy."

"Well," said Mr. Randon.

"Well!" said Ellen. Her eyes brightened up as she said this, and she turned to go away. Mr. and Mrs. Randon attempted to stop her, but she said that she could not stay then, and so she went away.

"She can not get him free," said Mr. Randon.

"I don't know," said his wife. "Perhaps she may. Such a girl as she can do a great deal when she tries."

Ellen went then as fast as she could go, to Mrs Henry's. She found Antonio in the garden.

"Antonio," said she, "my uncle Randon says that he will take Rodolphus and let him live there with him, on the farm, if we can only get him out of prison."

"But we can't get him out of prison," said Antonio. "It is too late now, he has been condemned and sentenced."

"But the governor can pardon him," said Ellen.

"Can he?" said Antonio.

"Yes," said Ellen.

"Can he?" repeated Antonio. "Then I'll go and see if he will."

Two days after this Antonio was on his way to the town where the governor lived. He met with various adventures on his way, and he felt great solicitude and doubt about the result of the journey. At last he arrived at the place.

He was directed to a large and handsome house, which stood in the centre of the principal street of the village, enveloped in trees and shrubbery. There was a beautiful yard, with a great gate leading to it, on one side of the house.