I will spare the reader a detail of the melancholy cortège of poor Emon-a-knock's funeral, which proceeded from Shanvilla to Rathcash chapel-yard the day but one after.
Winny had expressed a wish to attend it, but had yielded to the joint advice of Father Farrell and Father Roche to resist the impulse.
Emon-a-knock had been well and truly loved in life, and was now sincerely regretted in death. Father Farrell, at the head of the procession, was met by Father Roche bare-headed at the chapel-gate of Rathcash, and the melancholy ceremony was performed amidst the silent grief of the immense crowd around. Poor Emon's last wish was complied with, and he now occupied his last resting-place with the Cavanas of Rathcash.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
It was still about an hour after noon when Winny beheld from the parlor window at which she stood a very exciting cavalcade upon the road, slowly approaching the house. At once she became acquainted with the whole concern. "The chief" had fore-warned her that she might expect a visit from the magistrate the moment he returned; and her intelligence at once recognized the addition of the police and prisoners some distance in rear of the car.
Winny's heart beat quick and high as she saw them draw nigh and turn up the lane. It would be mock heroism to say that it did not. She knew [{254}] that Tom Murdock, the murderer of her husband, must be one of the prisoners, but she did not know why they were bringing him there--for the police had now made the turn. She thought the magistrate might have spared her that fresh excitement--that renewal of her hate. But the magistrate was one of those who had anticipated the law by his sense of justice and his practice. He was one who gave every one of his majesty's subjects fair play, and it was therefore his habit to have the accused face to face with the accuser when informations were taken and read.
Poor Winny was rather fluttered and disturbed when they entered, notwithstanding "the chief" had considerately prepared her for the visit. She did not lose her self-possession, however, so much as to forget the respect and courtesy due to gentlemen, beside being officers of the law. She asked them down into the parlor, and requested of them to be seated. They accepted her civility in silence, seeing enough in her manner to show them that she was greatly distressed, and required a little time to compose herself'. She was, however, the first to speak.
"I suppose, gentlemen, you are come respecting this sad affair. I told this gentleman here all I knew about it yesterday."
"Yes, but matters are still worse today, although there was no hope even then that they would be better. Of course it will relieve you so far at once to tell you that we are aware of the position in which you now stand toward the deceased."
"Yes, sir. It was with a wish that the world might know it I took the step I did. I had Father Farrell's approval of it, and my own parish-priest's as well; but subsequently--"