"Because grandfather turned so pale and looked so dreadfully; I never saw him look so before."
"Well, what passed after he came in?"
"I don't know—he sent us both out of the room, grandma and me."
"Where did you go?"
"Into the entry; we had no other place!"
"Did you hear nothing after?"
"Yes, the sound of voices, but no words; then Mr. Leicester rushed through the door, and out to the area; we thought he was gone, but in a minute he came back and went into the basement again; we heard no words after that, but a heavy fall. We went in, Mr. Leicester lay on the floor; grandpa was close by; there was blood about: but I do not know anything else, my head grew dizzy; I remember clinging to grandmother that I might not fall."
"And this is all you know?"
"Yes, it is all!"
It is impossible to describe the effect this young girl's evidence produced upon the court. She did not weep or blush as most girls of her age might have done. The feelings that gave her voice those tones of thrilling sadness, the subdued pain so visible in her sweet countenance, were all too strong and deep for these more common manifestations. You saw that this young creature was performing a solemn duty, when she stood up there to testify against the being whom she loved better than anything on earth—that the single hour which she occupied on the stand would leave behind it such memories as weigh upon the heart forever.