and.

If there had been a moment when the hearts of his enemies were softened,
when a throb of pity was felt even by Sydney Vane's elder brother, the
implacable old General who had vowed that he would pursue Andrew
Westwood to the death, it was when the prisoner's little daughter had
been put into the witness-box to give evidence against her father. Every
one felt that the moment was terrible, the situation almost unbearable.
The child was eleven years old, a brown, thin, frightened-looking
little creature, with unnaturally large dark eyes and masses of thick
dark hair. Her appearance evidently agitated the prisoner. He looked at
her with an expression of anguish, and wrung his gaunt nervous hands
together with a groan that haunted for many a long year the memories of
those who heard it. The child's dilated black eyes fixed themselves upon
him, and her lips, drawn back a little from her teeth, turned ashy
white. No one who saw her pathetic little face could feel anything but
compassion for her, and a wish to spare her as much as possible.

The counsel certainly wished to spare her. Only one or two questions
were to be asked, and these were not of great importance; but at the
very outset a difficulty occurred. She was small for her age, and the
judge chose to ask whether she was aware of the nature of an oath. He
got no answer but a frightened stare. A few more questions plainly
revealed a state of extraordinary ignorance on the child's part. Did she
know who made her? No. Had she not heard of God? No. Did she attach any
meaning to the words "heaven" or "hell?" Not in the very least. By her
own showing, Andrew Westwood's little daughter was no better than a
heathen.

The judge decided that her evidence need not be taken, and made a severe
remark about the unwisdom of bringing so young and untaught a witness
into court, especially when--as appeared to him--the child was of feeble
intellect and weakly constitution.

It was murmured in reply that the girl had previously shown herself
quick-witted and ready of tongue, and that it was only since the shock
of her father's arrest that she had lapsed into her present state of
apparent semi-imbecility. No further attempt was made however to bring
her forward; and little Jenny Westwood, as she was usually called, on
stepping down from the box, was bidden to go away, as the court in which
her father was being tried for his life was no place for her. But she
did not go. She shra