“My duty is to pronounce the sentence of the law. After a fair trial, and, so far as it appears to us, by an impartial jury, you have been found guilty. For reasons that are of sufficient weight to my mind, I shall not dwell on the character of the awful change you will have to undergo, should this decree be put in force, but confine myself simply to the duty of pronouncing the sentence of the law, which is this: that you be carried back to the gaol, and there be guarded, until Friday, the sixth day of September next, when between the hours of twelve and two, P. M., you be carried to the place of execution, and hanged by the neck, until you are dead—and God have mercy on your soul!”
A shudder passed through the audience, at hearing language like this applied to a person of Mary Monson’s appearance, education and sex. This feeling might have manifested itself more strongly, had not Mrs. Horton attracted attention to herself, by forcing her way through the crowd, until she stood within the bar. Here the good woman, accustomed to bandy words with her guests, did not scruple to make her presence known to the court, by calling out—
“They tell me, your honour, that Mary Monson has just been found guilty of the murder of Peter Goodwin?”
“It is so, my good woman—but that case is ended. Mr. Sheriff, remove the prisoner—time is precious—”
“Yes, your honour, and so is eternity. Mary Monson is no more guilty of taking the life of Peter Goodwin than I am guilty. I’ve always said some great disgrace would befall our juries, one of these days, and now my prophecy will come true. Duke’s is disgraced. Constable, let that poor man come within the bar.”
The drivelling creature who entered the room of McBrain tottered forward, when twenty voices cried aloud the name of “Peter Goodwin.[Goodwin.]” Every word that Mary Monson had stated was true!
CHAPTER XXVIII.
“Now Marcia, now call up to thy assistance,
Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind;
Thou can’st not put it to a greater trial.”