There were his parishioners! hoary patriarchs and gray-haired matrons, stately men and lovely women, who, from week to week, for many years, had still hung delighted on his discourses, as though his lips had been touched with fire, and all his words inspired!  There they were around him again!  But oh! how different the relations and the circumstances!  There they sat, with stern brows and averted faces, or downcast eyes, and “lips that scarce their scorn forbore.”  No eye or lip among them responded kindly to his searching gaze, and Thurston turned his face away again; for an instant his soul sunk under the pall of despair that fell darkening upon it.  It was not conviction in the court he thought of—­he would probably be acquitted by the court—­but what should acquit him in public opinion?  The evidence that might not be strong enough to doom him to death would still be sufficient to destroy forever his position and his usefulness.  No eye, thenceforth, would meet his own in friendly confidence.  No hand grasp his in brotherly fellowship.

The State’s Attorney was still proceeding with his speech.  He was now stating the case, which he promised to prove by competent witnesses—­how the prisoner at the bar had long pursued his beautiful but hapless victim—­how he had been united to her by a private marriage—­that he had corresponded with her from Europe—­that upon his return they had frequently met—­that the prisoner, with the treachery that would soon be proved to be a part of his nature, had grown weary of his wife, and transferred his attentions to another and more fortune-favored lady—­and finally, that upon the evening of the murder he had decoyed the unhappy young lady to the fatal spot, and then and there effected his purpose.  The prosecuting attorney made this statement, not with the brevity with which it is here reported, but with a minuteness of detail and warmth of coloring that harrowed up the hearts of all who heard it.  He finished by saying that he should call the witnesses in the order of time corresponding with the facts they came to prove.

“Oliver Murray will take the stand.”

This, the first witness called, after the usual oath, deposed that he had first seen the prisoner and the deceased together in the Library of Congress; had overheard their conversation, and suspecting some unfairness on the part of the prisoner, had followed the parties to the navy yard, where he had witnessed their marriage ceremony.

“When was the next occasion upon which you saw the prisoner?”

“On the night of the 8th of April, 182-, on the coast, near Pine Bluff.  I had landed from a boat, and was going inland when I passed him.  I did not see his face distinctly, but recognized him by his size and form, and peculiar air and gait.  He was hurrying away, with every mark of terror and agitation.”

This portion of Mr. Murray’s testimony was so new to all as to excite the greatest degree of surprise, and in no bosom did it arouse more astonishment than in that of Thurston.  The witness was strictly cross-questioned by the counsel for the prisoner, but the cross-examination failed to weaken his testimony, or to elicit anything more favorable to the accused.  Oliver Murray was then directed to stand aside.