Even the people who had been staring in, with their noses
flattened against the window panes, had rushed away to the new point
of interest. Dwight stood steadfastly looking at his daughter, with a
stern and Rhadamanthine gaze, in which, nevertheless, grief and
reproachful surprise, not less than indignation, were expressed. The
girl shrinking behind her mother, seemed more in terror than when the
mob had burst into the room.
"And so my daughter has disobeyed her father, has told him a lie, and
has disgraced him," said the justice, slowly and calmly, but in tones
that bore a crushing weight of reproof. "Add, sir, at least, that she
has also saved his life," interposed one of the other justices.
"Oh, don't talk to me so, papa," cried the girl sobbing. "I didn't
write your name, papa, I truly didn't."
"Do not add to your sin, by denials, my daughter. Did the fellow not
read my name?" Dwight regarded her as he said this, as if he were
somewhat disgusted at such persistent falsehood, and the others looked
a little as if their sympathy with the girl had received a slight
shock.
"But, papa, won't you believe me," sobbed the girl, clinging to her
mother as not daring to approach him to whom she appealed.
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