annot believe me guilty," said Anthony.

The men shook their heads. "I condemn no man until the law condemns,
him," returned the former spokesman. "But there is evidence enough in
your case to hang a hundred men."

"I have one witness in my favor. He knows my innocence, and to Him I
appeal," said Anthony, solemnly.

"Aye, but will he prove it my lad?"

"I trust He will."

"Well, time will show. The assizes will be held next week, so you have
not long to remain in doubt. I would be inclined to think you innocent,
if you could prove to me what business you had with loaded pistols in
your possession--why one was loaded, and the other unloaded, and how
your hands and clothes came stained with blood--why you quarrelled with
the old man last night, and went to him again to-night with offensive
weapons on your person, and at such an unseasonable hour? These are
stubborn facts."

"They, are indeed," sighed the prisoner. A natural gush of feeling
succeeded, and from that hour Anthony resigned himself to his fate.

CHAPTER XX.

O dread uncertainty:
Life-wasting agony!
How dost thou pain the heart,
Causing such tears to start
As sorrow never shed
O'er hopes for ever fled!--S.M.

What a night of intense anxiety was that to the young Clary! Hour after
hour, she paced the veranda in front of the cottage; now listening for
approaching footsteps, now straining her eyes to catch through the gloom
of the fir-trees the figure of him for whom she watched and wept in
vain. The cold night wind sighed through her fair locks, scattering them
upon the midnight air. The rising dews chilled the fragile form, but
stilled not the wild throbbing of the aching heart.

"Oh, to know the worst--the very worst--were better than this sore
agony." Years of care were compressed into that one night of weary
watching. "He will never come. I shall never, never see him again. I
feel now, as I felt when my sisters were taken from me, that I should
see them no more on earth. But I cannot weep for him as I wept for them.
I knew that they were happy, that they were gone to rest, and I felt as
if an angel's hand dried my tears. But I weep for him as one without
hope, as for one whom a terrible destiny has torn from me. I love him,
but my love is a crime, for he loves another. Oh, woe is me! Why did we
ever meet, if thus we are doomed to part?"

She looked up at the cold clear moon--up to the glorious stars of night,
a