The jury was sworn in without more than ordinary delay, and then the trial was commenced.  That which had to be done for the prosecution seemed to be simple enough.  The first witness called was the woman herself, who was summoned in the names of Euphemia Caldigate alias Smith.  She gave her evidence very clearly, and with great composure,—­saying how she had become acquainted with the man on board the ship; how she had been engaged to him at Melbourne; how he had come down to her at Sydney; how, in compliance with his orders, she had followed him up to Ahalala; and how she had there been married to him by Mr. Allan.  Then she brought forth the documents which professed to be the copy of the register of the marriage, made by the minister in his own book; and the envelope,—­the damning envelope,—­which Caldigate was prepared to admit that he had himself addressed to Mrs. Caldigate; and the letter which purported to have been written by the minister to Caldigate, recommending him to be married in some better established township than that existing at Ahalala.  She did it well.  She was very correct, and at the same time very determined, giving many details of her early theatrical life, which it was thought better to get from her in the comparative ease of a direct examination than to have them extracted afterwards by an adverse advocate.  During her evidence in chief, which was necessarily long, she seemed to be quite at ease; but those around her observed that she never once turned her eyes upon him whom she claimed as her husband except when she was asked whether the man there before her was the man she had married at Ahalala.  Then, looking at him for a moment in silence, she replied, very steadily, ‘Yes; that is my husband, John Caldigate.’

To Caldigate and his friends,—­and indeed to all those collected in the court,—­the most interesting person of the day was Sir John Joram.  In a sensational cause the leading barrister for the defence is always the hero of the plot,—­the actor from whom the best bit of acting is expected,—­the person who is most likely to become a personage on the occasion.  The prisoners are necessarily mute, and can only be looked at, not heard.  The judge is not expected to do much till the time comes for his charge, and even then is supposed to lower the dignity of the bench if he makes his charge with any view to effect on his own behalf.  The barrister who prosecutes should be tame, or he will appear to be vindictive.  The witnesses, however interesting they may be in detail, are but episodes.  Each comes and goes, and there is an end of them.  But the part of the defending advocate requires action through the whole of the piece.  And he may be impassioned.  He is bound to be on the alert.  Everything seems to depend on him.  They who accuse can have or should have no longing for the condemnation of the accused one.  But in regard to the other, an acquittal is a matter of personal prowess, of professional triumph, and possibly of well simulated feeling.