scale. No outward betrayal of the wife's emotion rewarded the
public curiosity: her bold light-gray eyes sustained the general
gaze without flinching. To the surprise of the women present, she
had brought her two young children with her to the trial. The
eldest was a pretty little girl of ten years old; the second
child (a boy) sat on his mother's knee. It was generally observed
that Mrs. Westerfield took no notice of her eldest child. When
she whispered a word from time to time, it was always addressed
to her son. She fondled him when he grew restless; but she never
looked round to see if the girl at her side was as weary of the
proceedings as the boy.

The judge took his seat, and the order was given to bring the
prisoner up for judgment.

There was a long pause. The audience--remembering his ghastly
face when he first appeared before them--whispered to each other,
"He's taken ill"; and the audience proved to be right.

The surgeon of the prison entered the witness-box, and, being
duly sworn, made his medical statement.

The prisoner's heart had been diseased for some time past, and
the malady had been neglected. He had fainted under the prolonged
suspense of waiting for the verdict. The swoon had proved to be
of such a serious nature that the witness refused to answer for
consequences if a second fainting-fit was produced by the
excitement of facing the court and the jury.

Under these circumstances, the verdict was formally recorded, and