ge.

"Miss Dare," said he, in his slow, kindly way that nothing could impair,
"do you realize the nature of the evidence you have given to the court?"

Her slowly falling head and white face, from which all the fearful
excitement was slowly ebbing in a dead despair, gave answer for her.

"I fear that you are not in a condition to realize the effect of your
words," the Judge went on. "Sympathy for the prisoner or the excitement
of being recalled to the stand has unnerved or confused you. Take time,
Miss Dare, the court will wait; reconsider your words, and then tell us
the truth about this matter."

But Imogene, with white lips and drooped head, answered hurriedly:

"I have nothing to consider. I have told, or attempted to tell, how Mrs.
Clemmens came to her death. She was struck down by me; Craik Mansell
there is innocent."

At this repetition in words of what she had before merely intimated by a
gesture, the Judge ceased his questions, and the horror of the multitude
found vent in one long, low, but irrepressible murmur. Taking advantage
of the momentary disturbance, Byrd turned to his colleague with the
agitated inquiry:

"Hickory, is _this_ what you have had in your mind for the last few
days?"

"This," repeated the other, with an air of careful consideration,
assumed, as Byrd thought, to conceal any emotion which he might have
felt; "no, no, not really. I--I don't know what I thought. Not this
though." And he fixed his eyes upon Imogene's fallen countenance, with
an expression of mingled doubt and wonder, as baffling in its nature as
the tone of voice he had used.

"But," stammered Byrd, with an earnestness that almost partook of the
nature of pleading, "she is not speaking the truth, of course. What we
heard her say in the hut----"

"Hush!" interposed the other, with a significant gesture and a sudden
glance toward the prisoner and his counsel; "watching is better than
talking just now. Besides, Orcutt is going to speak."

It was so. After a short and violent conflict with the almost
overwhelming emotions that had crushed upon him with the words and
actions of Imogene, the great lawyer had summoned up sufficient control
over himself to reassume the duties of his position and face once more
the expectant crowd, and the startled, if not thoroughly benumbed, jury.

His first words had the well-known ring, and, like a puff of cool air
through a heated atmosphere, at once restored the court-room to its
us