At five o’clock in the afternoon the jury went out to consider their verdict. Mary Kingman fainted before the door had closed behind them. The words of the stern and impartial judge, who had spoken for the bench, had filled her with awe and terror. Eugene lifted her up, and bore her to an adjoining room: but she recovered, and the words of assurance spoken by Dick Birch enabled her to return to the court-room in season to hear the verdict. The jury came in. They were grave men, impressed by the heavy responsibility which rested upon them, and nothing could be gleaned from their faces. They had been out less than an hour, and it was plain that there had been no serious disagreement among them. The court-room was hushed as the twelve men stood up, and the usual formalities were solemnly disposed of. “Mr. Foreman, have you agreed upon your verdict?” asked the clerk. “We have.” “What say you--is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?” “NOT GUILTY!” Though this result had been expected, it was not the less welcome. A storm of applause followed the rendering of the verdict, which all the hammering and shouting of the sheriff could not silence for a moment. The people had spoken through the jury, and now they spoke for themselves. Ross Kingman was discharged. The court adjourned, and he rushed to Mary, clasped her in his arms, and both wept tears of joy. Ross was a notable. Hundreds took him by the hand, and congratulated him. Dr. Lynch was one of the number. When he had done so, he left the court, and drove home. Mary and Ross, Eugene and Dick, occupied the Pine Hill carriage. Ross asked a great many questions about Dr. Lynch and the astounding event of the morning. To his surprise, both of his friends spoke kindly and charitably of the erring man. He had done wrong; he had publicly acknowledged his error, and they had forgiven him. The party were warmly welcomed at Pine Hill by Julia and her mother. The exciting events of the day were narrated, and Eugene volunteered to accompany Mary to her home. He had no opportunity to speak to her of the subject nearest to his heart until they reached the house on The Great Bell. He was not willing to waste a moment. Mary was dearer to him than ever. Her missionary labors had more clearly exhibited her character to him. “Mary, the trial is over, and Ross is free,” said he, while they were seated in the parlor, her brother being with the rest of the family in the kitchen. “He is; and how much we owe to you and Mr. Birch I need not remind you,” replied she. “You need not, Mary. I have done for him what I would have done for my own brother. But I did not remind you that the trial was over in order to speak of what has been done by any one. You remember your promise.” “I do,” she replied, much embarrassed. “I have faithfully kept mine. I have not spoken to you on the subject which was always claiming a word in my heart.” “You have not, Mr. Hungerford.”