Franklin's brain whirled in wild despair. He clasped his hands--he
conjured the mild, mistaken man, whose slightest word could save
Caroline from destruction.

"Mercy! I ask only one day."

"Young man, you plead in vain! Ask mercy of God, but not of me."

"Then listen, heart of stone!" cried Franklin, "and hear my final
words. You are old. Your head is white; your feet are already in the
grave. You will, ere long, be called before your Maker--yourself a
trembling suppliant for mercy. If, with cold-blooded, stupid
obstinacy, in the face of my warning, you drag this innocent and
modest girl, prematurely, into a police office--at a bar for
criminals--to stand a spectacle for the public, amid robbers, and
murderers, and to run the fearful chances of the law, I solemnly warn
you, old man, you will have innocent blood on your conscience--you
will call down God's curse upon your head."

"What can I do?" said Mr. Blake, overwhelmed by his irresistible
earnestness.

"You can do unto others, as you would have them do unto you--you can
give us time for proof, and yourself for reflection. You can suppose
it was your own daughter in her place. You can examine more carefully.
You can break from the leading-strings of that malignant Mr. Jennings.
You can consult with Mr. Blanchard, a man of reason and feeling, who
disapproves your severity. You can wait to satisfy yourself that this
young lady is distinguished for a stainless character, a pure life,
strict religious principles, humble faith in God, and habitual
communion with him. You can judge for yourself whether this is a case
of _monomania_--whether a person thus distinguished, could be guilty
of intentional purloining. Sir, ocular demonstration weighs _nothing_
against such a character. You can ask yourself more dispassionately
whether it be not a possibility--a very natural one--for an
absent-minded person to commit such an act mechanically and
unconsciously. You can hear her artless story from her own lips, and
candidly consider if it _may not_ be the truth."

Carried away by Franklin's eloquent vehemence, Mr. Blake did look.
Caroline had risen. The last spark of earthly hope had fled. She
stood, without gesture or tear. It seemed as if death had already
laid his icy hand upon her, only her eyes were lifted above, while she
breathed a silent prayer to Him whose mighty hand can raise the
trusting heart, in one instant, from the lowest depths of despair.

"Ha! What! God