The morning on which Jane Kelly was to have her hearing, found Madame De Marke punctual. The judge, who recognized her real position, was comparatively deferential; for wealth, even when allied with degradation, is not without power. Besides, her manner, as on the evening before, bespoke considerable knowledge of good society and its usages. Madame De Marke repeated the conversation which she had already stated. A lawyer, employed by her, was also in attendance. Jane was without professional aid. “The case seems clear,” said the judge, when Madame De Marke had closed her testimony. “What have you to say? You may speak now!” he added, turning to the prisoner. The girl had frequently interrupted Madame De Marke until the judge had sternly ordered her, more than once, to keep silence; and now her suppressed rage found short and bitter words. “She deserves the State’s prison more than I do!” cried Jane, white with passion, and looking at Madame De Marke as if she could have stabbed her to the heart. “She is ten thousand times worse than a thief”— “Stick to the point,” interposed the judge. “The question is not, what this lady may, or may not have done; but what proof there is that you did not steal the jewel.” “Proof! Does anybody want proof that she is blackhearted, treacherous, lying, cowardly, a secret murderer?” raved the girl. “Yes, a murderer! She wanted me to commit murder,—to let a sweet young creature starve on her sick-bed, and tried to bribe me with that very ear-ring. And now she says I stole it.” “Have you any proof of this?” “Proof! Proof again! What proof is there, but her word, that I took the ear-ring!” said Jane, with quick shrewdness, a thing she was not deficient in, when rage did not overmaster her entirely. “My word ought to be as good as hers. She says I stole the ring, and I say she gave it to me; what proof has she that her story is a bit truer than mine?” “She swears to it.” “I’ll swear to mine.” “That the law does not allow. An accused person cannot be a witness in his or her own behalf.” “But the accuser may be a witness for her side.” “No. It is the Commonwealth that prosecutes, and the accuser is only a witness for the State.” Jane broke forth indignantly—“You dare to call this justice! Such pitiful stuff you name ‘the wisdom of the law!’” She spoke these last words with bitter scorn. “If some one would come, and swear that you, the judge, had stolen, you’d have to believe ’em, ha! ha!” “Order!” cried an officer, horrified. “Order! order!” shouted the equally horrified clerk.