Mrs. Wentworth on perceiving Mr. Swartz and the two policemen, had pointed to the dead body of her child, and pronounced the solitary word, “there,” while her face became cold and expressiveless.

Involuntarily looking in the direction pointed out by Mrs. Wentworth, the three men started with awe as their eyes fell upon the beautiful face of the dead child.  One of the policemen, who was a devout Catholic crossed himself, and withdrew from the entrance of the door, but the other policeman and Mr. Swartz quickly shook off all feelings of fear that had passed over them.

“Here is de voman,” said Mr. Swartz, pointing to Mrs. Wentworth.  “Dis is de voman who shtole mine monish.”

As he spoke she turned her face towards him, but the mute anguish of the mother did not cause a sentiment of regret to enter Mr. Swartz’s heart, at the part he was acting towards her.

“Arrest her,” continued Mr. Swartz, “I vant you to take her to de jail, where she can be examined, and to-morrow morning I can have her up before de Mayor.”

“Not to-night,” exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth in a hollow voice.  “Leave me with the dead body of my child; after she is buried you can do as you please with me.”

“I knows better tan to do dat,” observed Mr. Swartz, “by to-morrow morning you vould be a pretty far avay from Shackson.”

“I will not move from this cabin an inch further than to the burial ground,” replied Mrs. Wentworth, “but if you fear it is my intention to escape, let one of your policemen remain here and watch me to night.”

Mr. Swartz stepped to the threshold of the door, and consulted the two men on the possibility of complying with her request, but one refused through superstition, while the other declined in consequence of his being on the night watch.

“I can’t agree to your vishes,” said Mr. Swartz, as soon as the conference was over, and he returned to the bedside.  “De policemen vont remain here.”

“Then do you trust me,” she replied.  “By the holy name of God, I implore you not to tear me from the body of my child, but if that name has no weight with you, and as I perceive it is useless to appeal to you by the sacred tenets of Christianity, let me pray you, that as a man, you will not descend to such brutality as to force me from the dead body that now lies before you, and deprive me of performing the last sad rites over her.  In the name of all that is humane, I plead to you, and, oh, God! let my supplications be answered.”

“Dere is no use of you talking in dat vay to me,” said Mr. Swartz in a coarse and brutal tone.  “It vas in de same sthyle dat you vent on dis morning, ven you vas begging me, and den you afterwards shtole my monish.”

As he finished speaking, the old negro entered the cabin, and perceiving the intruders, enquired the cause of their presence.  The Catholic who was an Irishman, briefly explained the object of their visit to the astonished old woman, who never conceived for a moment that Mrs. Wentworth had been guilty of theft.