"Have you ever seen him since?"
"I haven't."

"Should you know him again?"
"I think I should."

"Describe what he did."

"I was pressing out some collars for the children, and stood with my back to the door. He knocked, and when I didn't answer, he came on into the kitchen. He stopped when I asked him what he wanted. He said, a glass of water; he spoke thick, like a German. I told him to go to the pump, there was a cup there. When he had got his drink he came back, and came half across the kitchen floor before I noticed him, and said he was hungry. I don't like foreigners, and I was going to send him off, when Matilda, who was in the buttery, called out there was some pieces that she was going to throw away. So I said to give them to him. I told him to take the pieces outside and eat them. Then I went upstairs with the collars. When I came back he was in the kitchen again, sitting by the stair door; I almost tumbled over him when I opened it. I told him to go away, and he got up and went."

"He had been in the kitchen some time?"
"Ten minutes, maybe."

"Were you afraid of him?"

"No, of course not.”

"You have a good many tramps, I suppose?"

"No, I don't remember another one all summer." "I wonder it didn't make more impression on you; have you thought about it since the murder ?"

"Not particularly."

"That is all, I believe, that I shall trouble you to tell me now." He sat down.

CHAPTER XIX.

BEING DULY SWORN.

"the heart hath treble wrong,

When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue."

"I am cut off from the only world I know,

Venus and Adonis.

From light and life and love, in youth's sweet prime.
You do well telling me to trust in God;

I hope I do trust in Him. In whom else
Can any trust? And yet my heart is cold."

THE

Shelley.

I was

HE court adjourned for an hour at noon. taken into an adjoining room, where I lay down on a sort of hard settee. The colonel made me take a biscuit and some wine. Sophia, who was a good deal shaken by the morning's work, went out into the air, and walked up and down, and tried to steady herself. Mrs. Emlyn, with all her superb health, was sensitive and excitable in a high degree. She could not bear to leave me, and yet her nerves were all unstrung. The air of the court-room, she said, was all the trouble. I begged her to go out and get the air with Sophia. The colonel, who was tender as a woman, stayed and watched over me.

"What is coming next?" I asked him.
"The doctor's testimony."

"And who next?"

"You, I am afraid."

"I can't be there through the examination of the doctor. Can't I stay here, and go in after, when I'm called ?"

He assured me that I might. I don't know how it happened, perhaps it was exhaustion, perhaps a gift from Heaven, but I fell asleep. My sleep was profound and dreamless; I knew nothing till I found some one bending over me.

"I am afraid you'll have to wake now," said the colonel. "Your name will soon be called."

When we went into the court-room, and took our places again, there was for a moment the same hush that I had noticed in the morning when we entered. The doctor's testimony had evidently been professional and rather tiresome; the people had been yawning and lolling. They looked much enlivened when we came upon the scene. They sat up, and leaned forward and gazed intently. The doctor's cross-examination was just ending. He was held for a moment in the vice of Mr. Hardinge's pertinacity. The doctor would not yield the point that a longer time than three minutes was necessary for the extinction of life under the circumstances described. He continued firm. I could see there had been a strong point made in favor of the prosecution. He finally was permitted to leave the stand, and my name was called.

I did not feel any of the agitation that would have seemed inevitable. I certainly knew that there was a great deal depending upon what I said; that certainty seemed, strangely, a sort of strength. The colonel led me along the narrow space between the judge's platform and the table at which the lawyers sat; he seemed to fear

I might fall any moment to the floor; he looked back anxiously at me, when by reason of the narrowness of space he had to go in front. He supported me as I stepped up upon the raised place upon which was the chair, and stood beside me, a little at the back, all the while that I was kept there.

When I

The attorney for the prosecution rose. was sworn and had given my name and residence, I was told to look at the prisoner and say if I knew him. 1 turned my eyes towards the seat where I had seen him; certainly I saw nothing. I said yes.

"Your acquaintance with him began when?"

"About the twentieth of May, I should think.” "Were you acquainted with the family in which he lived, before you came to South Berwick?"

"No."

"Had you any knowledge of him, or of his family, before you met him there?"

"None."

"Had you any knowledge of the Emlyn family before this date?"

"I only knew that there was such a family, and that I had hired a house from them."

"You were on good terms with them all after you became acquainted?"

"Yes."

"You were entirely ignorant of the antecedents of the prisoner?"

"Yes."

"How often were you in the habit of seeing him?" "Almost daily, through the Summer.”

"Where did you generally see him-at your own house ?"

"At my own house very often, or at the house of Colonel Emlyn."

"Were his visits at your house business visits, visits of necessity?"

"No."

"They were then purely friendly, social visits?"
"Yes."

"I would ask, if you encouraged these visits?" Mr. Hardinge. "The witness must state what was said or done."

Mr. Bell. "What was his manner towards you?" "Always gentlemanly and considerate."

"Was it the same to others?"

"Yes, according to my observation."

"Was his manner just the same to you as to others whom you saw him meet?"

"No, it was different."

"How so? Will you explain?"

"It was naturally different with the Emlyn children, who were his pupils; and with Colonel and Mrs. Emlyn, who were so much older; and with people whom he met whom he scarcely knew."

"But you felt he was more friendly with you?"

("My learned brother is slaying the slain," cried Mr. Hardinge. "The testimony of the woman Sophia is enough. We know he was her suitor.")

I took the cue from this interjected sentence, as I was meant to, and said:

"Yes."

"Was this acceptable to you?"

"I was glad to have him for my

friend."

"Was his manner indicative of anything more than friendship?"