re
is no help for it, you know."

"My poor child! my poor child!".

These words almost unconsciously escaped the lips of the judge, as he
laid his hand upon her head.

"You are sorry for me," said Sybil.

"From the bottom of my heart."

"And you believe me guiltless? Oh, if you can say that, you will give me
so much strength and comfort," she pleaded.

How could he answer her? What could he say to her? He would have given
much to be able to reply that he fully believed her to be guiltless.

But, though he had known her intimately, from her infancy up, and saw
her standing there looking him frankly and honestly in the face and
declaring her innocence, and challenging a trial, and pleading for his
trust in her, he could not tell whether she were guilty or innocent.

He could not forget the fierce passions and fearful deeds of her race;
nor hide from his judgment the probability that this girl, inheriting
the fiery temper of her fathers, and driven to desperation by jealousy,
might, in a moment of frenzy, have slain her rival. Thus poor Sybil was
an instance of that natural law by which children suffer for the sins
of their fathers.

While the Judge dropped his venerable head upon his chest in sorrowful
thought, Sybil waited for his answer; and the longer it was withheld,
the more impatient she became to have it.

"You surely do not believe me guilty, then?" she pleaded, clasping her
hands and trying to catch and meet his eyes as he raised his head.

"My child, whatever I may or may not believe, I must express no opinion
here, or to you," he answered, evasively.

"Oh! I suppose not; for you are to be my judge and preside at my trial,
and so it would never do for you to give an opinion," said Sybil with a
sad smile, as, woman-like, she jumped to this conclusion.

The judge committed himself by no direct reply to her words, but said:

"I trust in Heaven, my child, that all will be well!"

"But, Judge Ruthven, although you may not be able to express an opinion
as to my innocence or guilt, yet I earnestly wish that you may hold
one--that you may believe me innocent; and so--please look into my
eyes!"

The old man, who had been rather shunning her glance, now raised his
head and met the honest gaze that was seeking his.

"Judge Ruthven," she re-commenced, "although the men and women of my
line have been cursed with fierce and cruel tempers, and have some of
them done ruthless and fearful deeds, yet not one