Darker and darker lowered the pall of fate over him—­the awful stillness of the court was oppressive, was suffocating; a deathly faintness came upon him, for now, for the first time, he fully realized the awful doom that threatened him.  Not long his nature bowed under the burden—­his spirit rose to throw it off, and once more the fine head was proudly raised, nor did it once sink again.  The last witness for the prosecution was called and took the stand, and deposed that he lived ten miles down the coast in an isolated, obscure place; that on the first of May, 182-, the body of a woman had been found at low tide upon the beach, that it had the appearance of having been very long in the water—­the clothing was respectable, the dress was dark blue stuff, but was faded in spots—­there was a ring on the finger, but the hand was so swollen that it could not be got off.  His poor neighbors of the coast assembled.  They made an effort to get the coroner, but he could not be found.  And the state of the body demanded immediate burial.  When cross-questioned by Lawyer Romford, the witness said that they had not then heard of any missing or murdered lady, but had believed the body to be that of a shipwrecked passenger, until they heard of Miss Mayfield’s fate.

Miriam was next recalled.  She came in as before, supported between Colonel and Miss Thornton.  Every one who saw the poor girl, said that she was dying.  When examined, she deposed that Marian, when she left home, had worn a blue merino dress—­and, yes, she always wore a little locket ring on her finger.  Drooping and fainting as she was, Miriam was allowed to leave the court-room.  This closed the evidence of the prosecution.

The defense was taken up and conducted with a great deal of skill.  Mr. Romford enlarged upon the noble character his client had ever maintained from childhood to the present time—­they all knew him—­he had been born and had ever lived among them—­what man or woman of them all would have dared to suspect him of such a crime?  He spoke warmly of his truth, fidelity, Christian zeal, benevolence, philanthropy and great public benefits.

I have no space nor time to give a fair idea of the logic and eloquence with which Mr. Romford met the charges of the State’s Attorney, nor the astute skill with which he tried to break down the force of the evidence for the prosecution.  Then he called the witnesses for the defense.  They were all warm friends of Mr. Willcoxen, all had known him from boyhood, none would believe that under any possible circumstances he could commit the crime for which he stood indicted.  They testified to his well-known kindness, gentleness and benevolence—­his habitual forbearance and command of temper, even under the most exasperating provocations—­they swore to his generosity, fidelity and truthfulness in all the relations of life.  In a word, they did the very best they could to save his life and honor—­but the most they could do was very