"The examination came on, and the upper room, where the court was held, was crowded to overflowing, all anxious to gain a sight of my father, though they had known him from boyhood up. Grandpa was there, and close behind sat or rather crouched my wretched mother. She would not be kept back, and with a face as white as marble, and hands locked firmly together, she sat to hear the testimony. Once the counsel for my father thought to clear him by throwing suspicion upon Heyward, who with a most foolish expression upon his face had declared that he heard nothing during the night. People would rather it had been he than Seth Marshall, and the tide was turning in favor of the latter when Richard Graham was called to the stand. He was known to be my father’s dearest friend, and the audience waited breathlessly to hear what he would say. He testified that, having been very restless, he got up about two o’clock in the morning, and as his window commanded a full view of the bank, he naturally looked in that direction. The moon was setting, but he could still discern objects with tolerable distinctness, and he saw a man come out of the bank, lock the door, put the key in his pocket, and hurry down the street. My father then wore a light gray coat and cap of the same color, so did this man, and thinking it must be he, Mr. Graham called him by name; but if he heard he did not stop. Mr. Graham then remembered that the day before my father had procured some medicine for my mother, and had forgotten to take it home. This threw some light upon the matter, and thinking that mother had probably been taken suddenly ill and my father had gone for the medicine, Mr. Graham retired again to rest, and gave it no further thought until the robbery was discovered. "’Do you believe the man you saw leaving the bank to have been the prisoner?’ asked the lawyer, and for an instant Mr. Graham hesitated, for with the white stony face of his early friend upturned to his and the supplicating eyes of the young wife fixed upon him, how could he answer yes? But he did, Jessie,—he did it at last. He said, ’I do,’ and over the white face there passed a look of agony which wrung a groan even from your father’s lips, while the pale young creature not far away rocked to and fro in her hopeless desolation." "Oh, Walter, Walter!" cried Jessie, "don’t tell me any more. I see now so plain that fair girl-wife crouching on the floor and my father testifying against her. How could he?" Walter had asked himself that question many a time, and his bosom had swelled with resentment at the act; but now, when Jessie, too, questioned the justice of the proceeding, he answered: "It was right I suppose,—all right. Mr. Graham believed that to which he testified, and when he left the stand he wound his arms around my father’s neck and said: "’God forgive me, Seth, I couldn’t help it.’" "But he could," said Jessie; "he needn’t have told all he knew."