Ann sat and wept bitterly for a long time; then getting up and throwing her arms round her father’s neck, and looking with her streaming eyes into his face, she said, “Oh, father, if you let go your faith in our dear Redeemer, you let go everything, and make us all miserable beyond words. Wait, wait a little, and I feel sure all will be well. For myself, I would rather lose life, liberty, fame, everything, than my trust in God.” “But why should God,” added Mr. Woodburn, “treat his servants worse than the devil and the world treat theirs? I see continually those who neither think nor care about religion flourishing like green bay trees, and the good left to all sorts of troubles.” “Oh, don’t talk in that manner!” exclaimed Ann. “Shall we expect an eternity of good, and shall we shrink from a trial for a few years? Shall we serve and trust in God only for selfish ends? Oh, no, indeed; we do need refining by fire. But, dear father, your mind and health are hurt by this confinement and suspense. But, I say, and ever will say, ‘Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’ Remember God has an eternal recompense to offer for all our sorrows here, but the devil and the world have nothing to offer us after this little life.” These moments of despair in Mr. Woodburn were the severest trial of all to his disconsolate family. But the March assizes were at hand, and the preparations which his friends were making for his defence tended to occupy his mind and relieve his spirits. Sir Henry Clavering never for a moment doubted of his instant and complete acquittal, and his steady, cheerful views and active exertions acted as a great solace to the Woodburns. He and George, assisted most zealously by Simon Degge, Mr. Heritage, and Mr. Fairfax, had arranged a considerable amount of evidence, which though it brought no nearer to the light the real perpetrator of the murder, if it were one, showed, they thought, sufficiently that no suspicion could fall on Mr. Woodburn.