was telepathic; it seemed to
him that every watcher there realized that in this defendant the judge
had a girl of softer mold, of different spirit, and from her the bitter
truth could be wrung.

Mary faced the court and the crowd on that side of the platform. Unlike
the other women, she did not look at or seem to see any one behind the
railing. Shefford was absolutely sure there was not a man or a woman who
caught her glance. She gazed afar, with eyes strained, humid, fearful.

When the prosecutor swore her to the oath her lips were seen to move,
but no one heard her speak.

"What is your name?" asked the judge.

"Mary." Her voice was low, with a slight tremor.

"What's your other name?"

"I won't tell."

Her singular reply, the tones of her voice, her manner before the judge,
marked her with strange simplicity. It was evident that she was not
accustomed to questions.

"What were your parents' names?"

"I won't tell," she replied, very low.

Judge Stone did not press the point. Perhaps he wanted to make the
examination as easy as possible for her or to wait till she showed more
composure.

"Were your parents Mormons?" he went on.

"No, sir." She added the sir with a quaint respect, contrasting markedly
with the short replies of the women before her.

"Then you were not born a Mormon?"

"No, sir."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen or eighteen. I'm not sure."

"You don't know your exact age?"

"No."

"Where were you born?"

"I won't tell."

"Was it in Utah?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you lived in this state?"

"Always--except last year."

"And that's been over in the hidden village where you were arrested?"

"Yes."

"But you often visited here--this town Stonebridge?"

"I never was here--till yesterday."

Judge Stone regarded her as if his interest as a man was running counter
to his duty as an officer. Suddenly he leaned forward.

"Are you a Mormon NOW?" he queried, forcibly.

"No, sir," she replied, and here her voice rose a little clearer.

It was an unexpected reply. Judge Stone stared at her. The low buzz ran
through the listening crowd. And as for Shefford, he was astounded. When
his wits flashed back and he weighed her words and saw in her face truth
as clear as light, he had the strangest sensation of joy. Almost it
flooded away the gloom and pain that attended this ordeal.

The judge bent his head to his assistants as if for counsel. All of them
were eager where for