for the
first time betrayed the presence of alarm. Indeed, to him as to others,
the moment was fuller of horror than when she made her first
self-accusation, for what at that time partook of the vagueness of a
dream, seemed to be acquiring the substance of an awful reality.

Imogene alone remained unmoved. Still with her eyes fixed on Hickory,
she continued:

"He has not told you all he knows about this matter, any more than I. If
my word needs corroboration, look to him."

And taking advantage of the sensation which this last appeal occasioned,
she waited where she was for the Judge to speak, with all the calmness
of one who has nothing more to fear or hope for in this world.

But the Judge sat aghast at this spectacle of youth and beauty insisting
upon its own guilt, and neither Mr. Ferris nor Mr. Orcutt having words
for this emergency, a silence, deep as the feeling which had been
aroused, gradually settled over the whole court. It was fast becoming
oppressive, when suddenly a voice, low but firm, and endowed with a
strange power to awake and hold the attention, was heard speaking in
that quarter of the room whence Mr. Orcutt's commanding tones had so
often issued. It was an unknown voice, and for a minute a doubt seemed
to rest upon the assembled crowd as to whom it belonged.

But the change that had come into Imogene's face, as well as the
character of the words that were uttered, soon convinced them it was the
prisoner himself. With a start, every one turned in the direction of the
dock. The sight that met their eyes seemed a fit culmination of the
scene through which they had just passed. Erect, noble, as commanding in
appearance and address as the woman who still held her place on the
witness stand, Craik Mansell faced the judge and jury with a quiet,
resolute, but courteous assurance, that seemed at once to rob him of
the character of a criminal, and set him on a par with the able and
honorable men by whom he was surrounded. Yet his words were not those of
a belied man, nor was his plea one of innocence.

"I ask pardon," he was saying, "for addressing the court directly; first
of all, the pardon of my counsel, whose ability has never been so
conspicuous as in this case, and whose just resentment, if he were less
magnanimous and noble, I feel I am now about to incur."

Mr. Orcutt turned to him a look of surprise and severity, but the
prisoner saw nothing but the face of the Judge, and continued:

"I wou