The Rattlesnake was then ordered to be brought back to the room.
When she again stood in the presence of her judges, Zingary addressed her in the following manner:—
"This tribunal, Margaret, has duly deliberated upon the case in which you are so especially interested. The result of that deliberation is, that you are found guilty of the blackest treachery and ingratitude. The founders of this tribunal wisely ordained that it should only pronounce one penalty in all cases which terminated in convictions; and that penalty is one which does not enable the criminal to return to the world to seek at the hands of the country's tribunals redress for what such criminal might deem to be an injustice practised by this court. That penalty is death!"
"Death!" wildly screamed Margaret Flathers: "oh, no—you would not, could not murder me in cold blood!"
"Death," solemnly repeated Zingary;—"death in the usual manner, according to the laws which this Tribunal was instituted to dispense."
"Death!" again cried the unhappy woman, scarcely believing what she heard: "no—it is impossible! You will not kill me—you cannot cut me off so soon! I am not prepared to die—I have led a wicked life, and must have time to repent. Spare me! But—do not keep me in this dreadful suspense! Oh! I can understand that you wish to strike me with terror—to read me a terrible lesson. Well—you have succeeded! Expel me from your society—thrust me out of your house; but——"
"Remove her," interrupted Zingary, firmly; but at the same time a tear trickled down his countenance.
The two gipsies who had before led the Rattlesnake from the room, now dragged her forcibly away; while her piercing screams struck to the hearts of those who heard them.
"When is the sentence to be executed?" inquired Skilligalee, in a subdued and mournful tone.
"Within the hour," answered the king. "You may converse with her up to the fatal moment."