s these she passed the sleepless night. When, in
the morning, she was brought to the bar, and her guilty hand held up
before the righteous judgment seat of William--imagination could not form
two figures, or two situations more incompatible with the existence of
former familiarity, than the judge and the culprit--and yet, these very
persons had passed together the most blissful moments that either ever
tasted! Those hours of tender dalliance were now present to _her_ mind.
_His_ thoughts were more nobly employed in his high office; nor could the
haggard face, hollow eye, desponding countenance, and meagre person of
the poor prisoner, once call to his memory, though her name was uttered
among a list of others which she had assumed, his former youthful, lovely
Agnes!

She heard herself arraigned with trembling limbs and downcast looks; and
many witnesses had appeared against her before she ventured to lift her
eyes up to her awful judge. She then gave one fearful glance, and
discovered William, unpitying but beloved William, in every feature! It
was a face she had been used to look on with delight, and a kind of
absent smile of gladness now beamed on her poor wan visage.

When every witness on the part of the prosecutor had been examined, the
judge addressed himself to her--"What defence have you to make?"

It was William spoke to Agnes! The sound was sweet; the voice was mild,
was soft, compassionate, encouraging! It almost charmed her to a love of
life!--not such a voice as when William last addressed her; when he left
her undone and pregnant, vowing never to see or speak to her more.

She could have hung upon the present words for ever! She did not call to
mind that this gentleness was the effect of practice, the art of his
occupation: which, at times, is but a copy, by the unfeeling, from his
benevolent brethren of the bench. In the present judge, tenderness was
not designed for the consolation of the culprit, but for the approbation
of the auditors.

There were no spectators, Agnes, by your side when last he parted from
you: if there had, the awful William had been awed to marks of pity.

Stunned with the enchantment of that well-known tongue directed to her,
she stood like one just petrified--all vital power seemed suspended.

Again he put the question, and with these additional sentences, tenderly
and emphatically delivered--"Recollect yourself. Have you no witnesses?
No proof in your behalf?"

A d