important witness at the assizes--which he
evidently considered as a great compliment.

Miss Charlecote undertook to go and take care of her young friend, and
they set off in silence, Phoebe leaning back with her veil down, and
Honor, perceiving that she needed this interval of quiet repose, watching
her with wonder. Had it been Honor's own case, she would have hung back
out of dislike to pursuing an enemy, and from dread of publicity, but
these objections had apparently not occurred to the more simple mind,
only devising how to spare her brother; and while Honor would have been
wretched from distrust of her own accuracy, and her habits of imperfect
observation would have made her doubt her own senses and memory, she
honoured Phoebe's careful training in seeing what she saw, and hearing
what she heard, without cross lights or counter sounds from imagination.
Once Phoebe inquired in a low, awe-struck voice, 'Shall I be put on
oath?'

'Most likely, my dear.'

Phoebe's hands were pressed together as though in preparation for a
religious rite. She was not dismayed, but from her strict truth at all
times, she was the more sensible of the sacredness and solemnity of the
great appeal.

An offence on so large a scale had brought a throng of loiterers to the
door of the town-hall, and Honor felt nervous and out of place as way was
made for the two ladies to mount the stairs to the justice-room; but
there she was welcomed by several of the magistrates, and could watch
Phoebe's demeanour, and the impression it made on persons accustomed to
connect many strange stories with the name of Miss Fulmort. That air of
maidenly innocence, the girlish form in deep mourning, the gentle
seriousness and grave composure of the young face, the simple,
self-possessed manner, and the steady, distinct tones of the clear, soft
voice were, as Honor felt, producing an effect that was shown in the mood
of addressing her, always considerate and courteous, but increasing in
respect and confidence.

And as Phoebe raised her eyes, the chairman's face--the first to meet her
glance--was the kind ruddy one, set in iron gray hair, that she
remembered as belonging to the hunter who had sacrificed the run to see
Mervyn safely home. The mutual recognition, and the tone of concern for
his illness, made her feel in the presence of a friend, and she was the
more at ease in performing her part.

To her great relief, the man in custody was unknown to her.