And for her—­the soldier’s wife?  She had remained a passive spectator of all that occurred.  When the voice of her defender first broke on her ear, she turned and looked at him for a moment, then, as if indifferent whether his defense was successful or not, she turned her head away and listlessly gazed at the crowd.  She cared not now for freedom and acquittal; she felt that the chords of reason were on the point of breaking, and but one thought, one desire, filled her mind, before they broke and madness held sway over her.  It was to see that loved form, to gaze once more on those loved features, to be clasped once again in her HUSBAND’S arms.  This was the sole thought, the only desire.  All “fond records,” all recollection of past years, all hope for future happiness, were obliterated, and nothing remained before her mind’s eye but the soldier who had parted from her in New Orleans.  Even the memory of her dead and of her living child had vanished, and if they were for a while brought to her mind, it was only in connection with the single desire which kept the chains of sanity united.  The lineaments of every soldier in the crowd were closely and eagerly scanned, but there were none there who bore the slightest resemblance to him for whom she yearned.  But still she peered into the assemblage, regardless of the efforts being made in her behalf, and it was not until the interruption narrated in the last chapter took place, that she manifested any interest in the proceedings of the court, and then it was merely by a gesture of surprise at the uproar.  When Harry concluded and sat down, she again evinced astonishment, but not a syllable escaped from her lips.

After a few minutes the shouts of the crowd subsided, and at the request of the judge, silence was restored.  His honor then addressed the jury.

“Gentlemen of the jury,” he began, “the case before your notice has become, from one of apparent insignificance, one of intense interest and importance.  A merchant of this city, well known to you all, both by his wealth and his long residence in your midst, appears before this court and accuses a woman of theft.  She is arrested and every evidence of her guilt is found on her person; she does not deny the act, and is accordingly brought before you to be tried and sentenced, or acquitted, as you may, in your good judgment think best.”

“Overwhelming evidence is brought against her to-day, and no doubt of her having committed the theft exists.  There appears little more for you to do than to find her guilty, and for me to pass the sentence.  But before doing these, it is necessary that the accused shall have a defense.  She is questioned, but informs the court she has nothing to say.  At this stage of the proceedings, a gentleman well known to you as a rising lawyer of this place before the war commenced, and better known since then as a gallant and meritorious officer, appears as her defendant.  You have heard his defense.  The