on
of the prisoner rose to eight. Would this result have an effect on the
undecided minority of four? In any case, they were invited to declare
themselves next. Only three hands were held up. One incomprehensible man
abstained from expressing his sentiments even by a sign. Is it necessary
to say who that man was? A mysterious change had now presented itself in
his appearance, which made him an object of greater interest than ever.
His inexplicable smile had vanished. He sat immovable, with closed eyes.
Was he meditating profoundly? or was he only asleep? The quick-witted
foreman had long since suspected him of being simply the stupidest
person present--with just cunning enough to conceal his own dullness
by holding his tongue. The jury arrived at no such sensible conclusion.
Impressed by the intense solemnity of his countenance, they believed him
to be absorbed in reflections of the utmost importance to the verdict.
After a heated conference among themselves, they decided on inviting
the one independent member present--the member who had taken no part in
their proceedings--to declare his opinion in the plainest possible form.
"Which way does your view of the verdict incline, sir? Guilty or not
guilty?"

The eyes of the silent juryman opened with the slow and solemn dilation
of the eyes of an owl. Placed between the alternatives of declaring
himself in one word or in two, his taciturn wisdom chose the shortest
form of speech. "Guilty," he answered--and shut his eyes again, as if he
had had enough of it already.

An unutterable sense of relief pervaded the meeting. Enmities were
forgotten and friendly looks were exchanged. With one accord, the jury
rose to return to court. The prisoner's fate was sealed. The verdict was
Guilty.

2.--The Sentence.

The low hum of talk among the persons in court ceased when the jury
returned to their places. Curiosity now found its center of attraction
in the prisoner's wife--who had been present throughout the trial. The
question of the moment was: How will she bear the interval of delay
which precedes the giving of the verdict?

In the popular phrase, Mrs. Westerfield was a showy woman. Her
commanding figure was finely robed in dark colors; her profuse light
hair hung over her forehead in little clusters of ringlets; her
features, firmly but not delicately shaped, were on a large scale. No
outward betrayal of the wife's emotion rewarded the public curiosity:
her bold light-gray