that knowledge to good purpose.  The plaintiff and old Mr. Ward were seated in court beside Mr. Barnes, as on the former abortive trial; but Mary Woodley had, fortunately for herself, lost much of the interest which attaches to female comeliness and grace when associated in the mind of the spectator with undeserved calamity and sorrow.  The black dress which she still wore—­the orthodox twelve months of mourning for a parent had not yet quite elapsed—­was now fresh, and of fine quality, and the pale lilies of her face were interspersed with delicate roses; whilst by her side sat Mr. John Wilford, as happy-looking as if no such things as perjurers, forgers, or adverse verdicts existed to disturb the peace of the glad world.  Altogether, we were decidedly less interesting than on the former occasion.  Edward Wareing, I must not omit to add, was, greatly to our surprise, present.  He sat, in great apparent amity, by the side of Thorndyke.

It was late in the afternoon, and twilight was gradually stealing over the dingy court, when the case was called.  The special jury answered to their names, were duly sworn, and then nearly the same preliminary speeches and admissions were made and put in as on the previous occasion.  Thomas Headley, the first witness called in support of the pretended will, underwent a rigorous cross-examination; but I was unable to extract anything of importance from him.

“And now,” said the defendant’s leading counsel, “let me ask my learned friend if he has succeeded in obtaining the attendance of Elizabeth Wareing?”

I was of course obliged to confess that we had been unable to find her; and the judge remarked that in that ease he could receive secondary evidence in proof of her attestation of the will.

A whispered but manifestly eager conference here took place between the defendant and his counsel, occasionally joined in by Edward Wareing.  There appeared to be indecision or hesitation in their deliberations; but at last Mr. P ——­ rose, and with some ostentation of manner addressed the court.

“In the discharge of my duty to the defendant in this action, my lord, upon whose fair fame much undeserved obloquy has been cast by the speeches of the plaintiff’s counsel—­speeches insupported by a shadow of evidence—­I have to state that, anxious above all things to stand perfectly justified before his neighbors and society, he has, at great trouble and expense, obtained the presence here to-day of the witness Elizabeth Wareing.  She had gone to reside in France with a respectable English family in the situation of housekeeper.  We shall now place her in the witness-box, and having done so, I trust we shall hear no more of the slanderous imputations so freely lavished upon my client.  Call Elizabeth Wareing into court.”

A movement of surprise and curiosity agitated the entire auditory at this announcement.  Mr. Silas Thorndyke’s naturally cadaverous countenance assumed an ashy hue, spite of his efforts to appear easy and jubilant; and for the first time since the commencement of the proceedings I entertained the hope of a successful issue.