two of the three Fates: who would make the third, to
cut the thread for their enemy's disaster? Public opinion was divided.
There were many voices ready to speak on the accused man's side; a
sharp-looking acquaintance left his business in Boston to swear that
Holt was in his office before noon on the day following the robbery,
and that he had spent most of the night in Boston, as proved by
several minor details of their interview. As for Holt's young married
daughter, she was a favorite with the townsfolk, and her husband was
away at sea overdue these last few weeks. She sat on one of the hard
court benches with a young child in her arms, born since its father
sailed; they had been more or less unlucky, the Holt family, though
Enoch himself was a man of brag and bluster.

All the hot August morning, until the noon recess, and all the hot
August afternoon, fly-teased and wretched with the heavy air, the
crowd of neighbors listened to the trial. There was not much evidence
brought; everybody knew that Enoch Holt left the funeral procession
hurriedly, and went away on horseback towards Boston. His daughter
knew no more than this. The Boston man gave his testimony impatiently,
and one or two persons insisted that they saw the accused on his way
at nightfall, several miles from home.

As the testimony came out, it all tended to prove his innocence,
though public opinion was to the contrary. The Knowles sisters looked
more stern and gray hour by hour; their vengeance was not to be
satisfied; their accusation had been listened to and found wanting,
but their instinctive knowledge of the matter counted for nothing.
They must have been watched through the knot-hole of the shutter;
nobody had noticed it until, some years before, Enoch Holt himself had
spoken of the light's shining through on a winter's night as he came
towards the house. The chief proof was that nobody else could have
done the deed. But why linger over _pros_ and _cons?_ The jury
returned directly with a verdict of "not proven," and the tired
audience left the court-house.

But not until Hannah Knowles with angry eyes had risen to her feet.

The sterner elder sister tried to pull her back; every one said that
they should have looked to Betsey to say the awful words that
followed, not to her gentler companion. It was Hannah, broken and
disappointed, who cried in a strange high voice as Enoch Holt was
passing by without a look:

"You stole it, you thief! You