" A moment later, looking up, he saw many of his neighbours
glancing curiously at his hand and his pale face, and hastily thrust on
his glove again; and immediately after the jury returned, and the judges
filed in to take their places. Anthony's attention was drawn off again,
and the buzz of talk in the court was followed again by a deep silence.
The verdict of _Guilty_ was uttered, as had been pre-arranged, and the
Queen's Counsel demanded sentence.
"Campion and the rest," said Chief Justice Wray, "What can you say why
you should not die?"
Then Campion, still steady and resolute, made his last useless appeal.
"It was not our death that ever we feared. But we knew that we were not
lords of our own lives, and therefore for want of answer would not be
guilty of our own deaths. The only thing that we have now to say is, that
if our religion do make us traitors, we are worthy to be condemned; but
otherwise are and have been true subjects as ever the Queen had. In
condemning us, you condemn all your own ancestors," and as he said this,
his voice began to rise, and he glanced steadily and mournfully round at
the staring faces about him, "all the ancient priests, bishops, and
kings--all that was once the glory of England, the island of saints, and
the most devoted child of the See of Peter." Then, as he went on, he
flung out his wrenched hands, and his voice rang with indignant defiance.
"For what have we taught," he cried, "however you may qualify it with the
odious name of treason, that they did not uniformly teach? To be
condemned with these old lights--not of England only, but of the
world--by their degenerate descendants, is both gladness and glory to
us.
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