“It seemed at one time he was going to call witnesses to character, and he had a list of them in his hand, but he suddenly changed his mind, and said, ‘No, my Lord, whatever you’re going to do with me this day, I’ll do my best to meet it, but I won’t make any one stand up here, and have the shame to say he knows a man that the mere turn of a straw might send to the gallows!’”
“Did he say that?” cried she, wildly.
“He did; and he looked at the jury all the while, as though to say, ‘Take care what you do; it’s a man’s life is on it!’”
“Did he ever mention my name? Did he ask for any one in particular, did you hear?” asked she, faintly.
“No; but before he began his speech he looked all over the court for full five minutes or more, as if in search of some one, and even motioned some people in the gallery to stand aside that he might see better, and then he drew a long breath—either disappointment or relief; it might be either.”
“‘How could they have the heart to say guilty?” said she.
“There was no other word to say. They were on their oaths, and so the Judge told them, and the whole country was looking at them.”
“And where is he now?” asked she, eagerly.
“All the prisoners for transportation have been sent on to Dublin. They’ll not leave the country before spring.”
She hid her head between her hands, and sat for a long time without speaking. At last she raised her face, and her eyes were red with weeping, and her cheeks furrowed.