merly they had been weary. Shefford glanced around
at the dark and somber faces, and a slow wrath grew within him. Then he
caught a glimpse of Waggoner. The steel-blue, piercing intensity of the
Mormon's gaze impressed him at a moment when all that older generation
of Mormons looked as hard and immutable as iron. Either Shefford was
over-excited and mistaken or the hour had become fraught with greater
suspense. The secret, the mystery, the power, the hate, the religion of
a strange people were thick and tangible in that hall. For Shefford the
feeling of the presence of Withers on his left was entirely different
from that of the Mormon on his other side. If there was not a shadow
there, then the sun did not shine so brightly as it had shone when he
entered. The air seemed clogged with nameless passion.

"I gather that you've lived mostly in the country--away from people?"
the judge began.

"Yes, sir," replied the girl.

"Do you know anything about the government of the United States?"

"No, sir."

He pondered again, evidently weighing his queries, leading up to the
fatal and inevitable question.

Still, his interest in this particular defendant had become visible.

"Have you any idea of the consequences of perjury?"

"No, sir."

"Do you understand what perjury is?"

"It's to lie."

"Do you tell lies?"

"No, sir."

"Have you ever told a single lie?"

"Not--yet," she replied, almost whispering.

It was the answer of a child and affected the judge. He fussed with his
papers. Perhaps his task was not easy; certainly it was not pleasant.
Then he leaned forward again and fixed those deep, cavernous eyes upon
the sad face.

"Do you understand what a sealed wife is?"

"I've never been told."

"But you know there are sealed wives in Utah?"

"Yes, sir; I've been told that."

Judge Stone halted there, watching her. The hall was silent except for
faint rustlings and here and there deep breaths drawn guardedly. The
vital question hung like a sword over the white-faced girl. Perhaps she
divined its impending stroke, for she sat like a stone with dilating,
appealing eyes upon her executioner.

"Are you a sealed wife?" he flung at her.

She could not answer at once. She made effort, but the words would not
come. He flung the question again, sternly.

"No!" she cried.

And then there was silence. That poignant word quivered in Shefford's
heart. He believed it was a lie. It seemed he would have known it if