Two months had elapsed since the Christmas morning on which she had rejected his floral offering, and during that weary season of waiting, she had refused to see any visitors except Dyce and Sister Serena; resolutely denying admittance to Miss Gordon.  She knew that he had been absent, had searched for some testimony in New York, and now meeting his eyes, she saw a sudden change in their expression—­a sparkle, a smile of encouragement, a declaration of success.  He fancied he understood the shadow of dread that drifted over her face; and she realized at that instant, that of all foes, she had most to apprehend from the man who she knew loved her with an unreasoning and ineradicable fervor.  How much had he discovered?  She could defy the district solicitor, the judge, the jury; but only one method of silencing the battery that was ambushed in those gleaming blue eyes presented itself.  To extinguish his jealousy, by removing the figment of a rival, might rob him of the motive that explained his persistent pursuit of the clue she had concealed; but it would simultaneously demolish, also, the barrier that stretched between Miss Gordon’s happy heart and the bitter waves of a cruel disappointment.  If assured that her own affection was unpledged, would the bare form and ceremonial of honor bind his allegiance to his betrothed?  Absorbed in these reflections, the prisoner became temporarily oblivious of the proceedings; and it was not until Sister Serena touched her arm, that she saw the vast throng was watching her, waiting for some reply.  The Judge repeated his question: 

“Is it the desire of the prisoner to answer the presentation of the prosecution?  Having refused professional defence, you now have the option of addressing the Court.”

“Let the prosecution proceed.”

There was no quiver in her voice, as cold, sweet and distinct it found its way to the extremity of the wide apartment; yet therein lurked no defiance.  She resumed her seat, and her eyes sank, until the long black fringes veiled their depths.  Unperceived, Judge Dent had found a seat behind her, and leaning forward he whispered: 

“Will you permit me to speak for you?”

“Thank you—­no.”

“But it cuts me to the heart to see you so forsaken, so helpless.”

“God is my helper; He will not forsake me.”

The first witness called and sworn was Doctor Ledyard, the physician who for many years had attended General Darrington; and who testified that when summoned to examine the body of deceased, on the morning of the inquest, he had found it so rigid that at least eight hours must have elapsed since life became extinct.  Had discovered no blood stains, and only two contusions, one on the right temple, where a circular black spot was conspicuous, and a bluish bruise over the region of the heart.  He had visited deceased on the morning of previous day, and he then appeared much better, and almost relieved of rheumatism and pains attributable to an old wound in the right knee.  The skull had not been fractured by the blow on the temple, but witness believed it had caused death; and the andiron, which he identified as the one found on the floor close to the deceased, was so unusually massive, he was positive that if hurled with any force, it would produce a fatal result.