CHAPTER XVI.
"And to avoid the foe's pursuit,
With spurring put their cattle to't
And till all four were out of wind,
And danger too, ne'er look'd behind."
As the shades of evening approached, the jurors, witnesses, and other attendants on the court, begun to disperse, and before nine o'clock the village was quiet, and its streets nearly deserted. At that hour, Judge Temple and his daughter, followed at a short distance by Louisa Grant, walked slowly down the avenue, under the slight shadows of the young poplars, holding the following discourse:—
"You can best sooth his wounded spirit, my child," said Marmaduke; "but it will be dangerous to touch on the nature of his offence; the sanctity of the laws must be respected."
"Surely, sir," cried the impatient Elizabeth, "those laws that condemn a man like the Leather-stocking to so severe a punishment, for an offence that even I must think very venial, cannot be perfect in themselves."
"Thou talkest of what thou dost not understand, Elizabeth," returned her father. "Society cannot exist without wholesome restraints. Those restraints cannot be inflicted, without security and
