y friends I have always been forced to adhere to that
course which to me and my own conscience seemed just and right. I will
not undertake to disguise the truth, Miss Julia, I am already retained
for the prosecution of this case. I must not listen to you coming to ask
me to act for the defense. That at least is the present status of
affairs. I shall be guided all along by my sense of right and duty. At
present I cannot take the case for the defense."

She was feeling at the head of her stick, stumblingly, half rising.
Suddenly it seemed to her that the walls were closing in upon her, that
she must get away, get out into the open.

"That's cruel!" she exclaimed.

"At times it is necessary for us to be cruel," said Judge Henderson,
virtuously. "If I am cruel, I regret with all my heart that it must be
cruelty to one whom so long I have held in such esteem as I do you. We
have long known your life, how exquisitely ordered it has been. I have
never known before, of course, how much it was wrapped up with this
young man's life. I am astonished at what I have learned. It is only my
own high standard of honor, my dear--that same standard to which I have
unflinchingly adhered at whatever cost it might entail upon me--which
enables me to refuse any request that you might make me. Now I am pained
and grieved, I am indeed."

A tear stood in the corner of Judge Henderson's eyes. It was an argument
which he always had at hand if need were--an argument which had won him
perhaps more than one case before a jury. And now he felt himself, as
always, the central figure, appealing to a jury, extenuating,
explaining, expounding. Moreover, he felt himself misjudged, an injured
man. He did not care at the time to divulge any of the plan he but now
had confided to Aurora and Anne.

"I have hurt you!" said Miss Julia, impulsively. "Oh, I would never mean
to do that." She held out a hand swiftly, in part forgetful of her
errand.

He took her hand in both his own--small and white it was, and veined
somewhat, ink-stained as to some of the fingers--a hand which rested
trembling in his own. (Now, what the angels saw is not for mortals to
inquire! "He took my hand in both his own!" wrote Miss Julia in her
diary.)

Judge Henderson gallantly clasped the hand and drew it a trifle closer
to his bosom. "You believe me, do you not, my dear?" said he. "It
grieves me to give you any pain. As for me, it does not matter." He
dashed the tear from his