. I have often called her »the old woman,« and »an
old woman,« because, in truth, her appearance was so much beyond her years,
which could not be many above fifty. But, partly owing to her accident in early
life, which left a stamp of pain upon her face, partly owing to her anxious
temper, partly to her sorrows, and partly to her limping gait, she always gave
me the idea of age. But now she might have seemed more than seventy; her lines
were so set and deep, her features so sharpened, and her walk so feeble. She was
trying to check her sobs into composure, and (unconsciously) was striving to
behave as she thought would best please her poor boy, whom she knew she had
often grieved by her uncontrolled impatience. He had buried his face in his
arms, which rested on the front of the dock (an attitude he retained during the
greater part of his trial, and which prejudiced many against him).
    The counsel began the examination.
    »Your name is Jane Wilson, I believe?«
    »Yes, sir.«
    »The mother of the prisoner at the bar?«
    »Yes, sir,« with quivering voice, ready to break out into weeping, but
earning respect by the strong effort at self-control, prompted, as I have said
before, by her earnest wish to please her son by her behaviour.
    The barrister now proceeded to the important part of the examination,
tending to prove that the gun found on the scene of the murder was the
prisoner's. She had committed herself so fully to the policeman, that she could
not well retract; so without much delay in bringing the question round to the
desired point, the gun was produced in court, and the inquiry made -
    »That gun belongs to your son, does it not?«
    She clenched the sides of the witness-box in her efforts to make her parched
tongue utter words. At last she moaned forth -
    »Oh! Jem, Jem! what mun I say?«
    Every one bent forward to hear the prisoner's answer; although, in fact, it
was of little importance to the issue of the trial. He lifted up his head; and
with a face brimming full of pity for his mother, yet resolved into endurance,
said -
    »Tell the truth, mother!«
    And so she did, with the fidelity of a little child. Every one felt that she
did; and the little colloquy between mother and son did them some slight