Silas shall tell the story himself: “When she was brought into the room, she stood with her back against the wainscot, but appeared perfectly resigned to the will of God. I then addressed myself to her, saying, ‘My dear, for God’s sake, for Christ’s sake, for the sake of your own precious soul, do not die with a lie in your mouth; you are, in a few moments, to appear in the presence of the holy God, who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity. Oh, consider what an eternity of misery must be the position of all who die in their sins!’ She heard me with much meekness and simplicity, but answered that she had already advanced the truth, and must persevere in the same spirit to her last moments.” Efforts were made to prevent Told from accompanying her any farther, and the rioters were so exasperated against her that Told seems only to have been safe by keeping near to the sheriff along the whole way. The sheriff also told him that he would be giving a great satisfaction to the whole nation, could he only bring her to a confession. “Now, as we were proceeding on the road, the sheriff’s horse being close to the cart, I looked up at her from under the horse’s bridle, and I said, ‘My dear, look to Jesus.’ This quickened her spirit, insomuch that although she had not looked about her before, she turned herself round to me, and said, ‘Sir, I bless God I can look to Jesus—to my comfort.’” Arrived at the place of execution, he spoke to her again solemnly, “Did you not commit the act? Had you no concern therein? Were you not interested in the murder?” She said, “I am as clear of the whole affair as I was the day my mother brought me into the world.” She was very young, she had all the aspects of innocence about her. The sheriff burst into tears, and turned his head away, exclaiming, “Good God! it is a second Coleman’s case!” At this moment her cousin stepped up into the cart, and sought to kiss her. She turned her face away, and pushed him off. She had before charged him with being the murderer—and he was. When subsequently taken up for another crime, he confessed the committal of this. Her aunt had left to Mary, in the event of her death, more money than to this wretch. The executioner drew the cart away, and Mary’s body—leaning the poor head, in her last moments, on Silas’s shoulder—dear old Silas, her only comfort in that terrible hour—fell into the arms of death. But he tells how she was cold and still before the cart was drawn away.