On the morning of my return to Court, I was utterly unable to help myself.  I was so overcome with fright and emotion,—­with the alternating feelings of despair and hope—­that I could not stand still long enough to dress myself.  I trembled like an aspen leaf; so I sent a message to Mrs. Lacy to request permission for me to go to her room, that she might assist me in dressing.  I had done a great deal of sewing for Mrs. Lacy, for she had showed me much kindness, and was a good Christian.  She gladly assisted me, and under her willing hands I was soon made ready, and, promptly at nine o’clock, the sheriff called and escorted me to the courthouse.

On our way thither, Judge Bates overtook us.  He lived out a short distance in the country, and was riding on horseback.  He tipped his hat to me as politely as if I were the finest lady in the land, and cried out, “Good morning Miss Lucy, I suppose you had pleasant dreams last night!” He seemed so bright and smiling that I was imbued with renewed hope; and when he addressed the sheriff with “Good morning Sir.  I don’t suppose the jury was out twenty minutes were they?” and the sheriff replied “oh! no, sir,” my heart gave a leap, for I was sure that my fate was decided for weal or woe.

I watched the judge until he turned the corner and desiring to be relieved of suspense from my pent-up anxiety, I eagerly asked the sheriff if I were free, but he gruffly answered that “he didn’t know.”  I was sure he did know, but was too mean to tell me.  How could he have been so flinty, when he must have seen how worried I was.

At last the courthouse was reached and I had taken my seat in such a condition of helpless terror that I could not tell one person from another.  Friends and foes were as one, and vainly did I try to distinguish them.  My long confinement, burdened with harrowing anxiety, the sleepless night I had just spent, the unaccountable absence of my mother, had brought me to an indescribable condition.  I felt dazed, as if I were no longer myself.  I seemed to be another person—­an on-looker—­and in my heart dwelt a pity for the poor, lonely girl, with down-cast face, sitting on the bench apart from anyone else in that noisy room.  I found myself wondering where Lucy’s mother was, and how she would feel if the trial went against her; I seemed to have lost all feeling about it, but was speculating what Lucy would do, and what her mother would do, if the hand of Fate was raised against poor Lucy!  Oh! how sorry I did feel for myself!

At the sound of a gentle voice, I gathered courage to look upward, and caught the kindly gleam of Judge Bates’ eyes, as he bent his gaze upon me and smilingly said, “I will have you discharged in a few minutes, Miss Lucy!”

Some other business occupied the attention of the Court, and when I had begun to think they had forgotten all about me, Judge Bates arose and said calmly, “Your Honor, I desire to have this girl, Lucy A. Berry, discharged before going into any other business.”