The hour wore slowly on. The room grew dark. But the judge did not adjourn the court. He thought, most likely, it was better for all concerned to end the agony that night if possible.
At length the lamps were lighted, and their beams fell upon the pallid group of friends, upon whom the doom of death seemed already to have descended; and further on, upon the "sea of heads" that now filled the court-room and—waited for the verdict; for the crowd had greatly increased since the commencement of the trial.
At length the hush of silence was stirred by a motion near the door of the jury-room.
Sybil's weary head still rested on her husband's bosom; he gathered her in a closer embrace, that she might not look up until she should be compelled to do so.
She was too inexperienced to know what that little stir that moved the stillness meant.
The door of the jury-room was thrown open by the deputy-sheriff, and the jury filed into the court, and stood in a group near the bench.
All hearts stood still. The face of the venerable judge turned a shade paler.
The clerk of arraigns arose, and addressing the jury, inquired:
"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?"
"We have," solemnly answered the foreman, on the part of his colleagues.