nts on the
Darrock estate, who lived nearest to the house. They all sat together on
one side of the justice-room. Opposite to them and close at the side of
a door, stood my old acquaintance, Mr. Dark, with his big snuff-box, his
jolly face, and his winking eye. He nodded to me, when I looked at him,
as jauntily as if we were meeting at a party of pleasure. The quadroon
woman, who had been summoned to the examination, had a chair placed
opposite to the witness-box, and in a line with the seat occupied by my
poor mistress, whose looks, as I was grieved to see, were not altered
for the better. The lawyer from London was with her, and I stood behind
her chair.

We were all quietly disposed in the room in this way, when the justice,
Mr. Robert Nicholson, came in with his brother. It might have been only
fancy, but I thought I could see in both their faces that something
remarkable had happened since we had met at the last examination.

The deposition of Josephine Durand was read over by the clerk, and she
was asked if she had anything to add to it. She replied in the negative.
The justice then appealed to my mistress's relation, the lawyer, to
know if he could produce any evidence relating to the charge against his
clients.

"I have evidence," answered the lawyer, getting briskly on his legs,
"which I believe, sir, will justify me in asking for their discharge."

"Where are your witnesses?" inquired the justice, looking hard at
Josephine while he spoke.

"One of them is in waiting, your worship," said Mr. Dark, opening the
door near which he was standing.

He went out of the room, remained away about a minute, and returned with
his witness at his heels.

My heart gave a bound as if it would jump out of my body. There, with
his long hair cut short, and his bushy whiskers shaved off--there, in
his own proper person, safe and sound as ever, was Mr. James Smith!

The quadroon's iron nature resisted the shock of his unexpected presence
on the scene with a steadiness that was nothing short of marvelous. Her
thin lips closed together convulsively, and there was a slight movement
in the muscles of her throat. But not a word, not a sign betrayed her.
Even the yellow tinge of her complexion remained unchanged.

"It is not necessary, sir, that I should waste time and words in
referring to the wicked and preposterous charge against my clients,"
said the lawyer, addressing Mr. Robert Nicholson. "The one sufficient
justificatio