Part 62 (2/2)

”We--we--we--we have.”

”Is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?”

Here the internal but obstructed machinery of the chest and throat set to work again, and at last the foreman was able to get out--”Guilty--”

Mrs. Hastings had heard enough, and too much; and, as the sentence was p.r.o.nounced, she instantly withdrew; but how to convey the melancholy tidings to the _Cooleen Bawn_ she knew not. In the meantime the foreman, who had not fully delivered himself of the verdict, added, after two or three desperate hiccups--”on the second count.”

This, if the foreman had not labored under such an extraordinary hesitation, might have prevented much suffering, and many years of unconscious calamity to one of the unhappy parties of whom we are writing, inasmuch as the felony of the jewels would have been death, whilst the elopement with a ward of Chancery was only transportation.

When Mrs. Hastings entered the room where the _Cooleen Bawn_ was awaiting the verdict with a dreadful intensity of feeling, the latter rose up, and, throwing her arms about her neck, looked into her face, with an expression of eagerness and wildness, which Mrs. Hastings thought might be best allayed by knowing the worst, as the heart, in such circ.u.mstances, generally collects itself, and falls back upon its own resources.

”Well, Mrs. Hastings, well--the verdict?”

”Collect yourself, my child--be firm--be a woman. Collect yourself--for you will require it. The verdict--Guilty!”

The _Cooleen Bawn_ did not faint--nor become weak--but she put her fair white hand to her forehead--then looked around the room, then upon Mrs.

Brown, and lastly upon Mrs. Hastings. They also looked upon her. G.o.d help both her and them! Yes, they looked upon her countenance--that lovely countenance--and then into her eyes--those eyes! But, alas! where was their beauty now? Where their expression?

”Miss Folliard! my darling Helen!” exclaimed Mrs. Hastings, in tears--”great G.o.d, what is this, Mrs. Brown? Come here and look at her.”

Mrs. Brown, on looking at her, whispered, in choking accents, ”Oh! my G.o.d, the child's reason is overturned; what is there now in those once glorious eyes but vacancy? Oh, that I had never lived to see this awful day! Helen, the treasure, the delight of all who ever knew you, what is wrong? Oh, speak to us--recognize us--your own two best friends--Helen--Helen! speak to us.”

She looked upon them certainly; but it was with a dead and vacant stare which wrung their hearts.

”Come,” said she, ”tell me where is William Reilly? Oh, bring me to William Reilly; they have taken me from him, and I. know not where to find him.”

The two kind-hearted ladies looked at one another, each stupefied by the mystery of what they witnessed.

”Oh,” said Mrs. Hastings, ”her father must be instantly sent for Mrs.

Brown, go to the lobby--there is an officer there--desire him to go to Mr. Folliard and say that--but we had better not alarm him too much,”

she added, ”say that Miss Folliard wishes to see him immediately.”

The judge, we may observe here, had not yet p.r.o.nounced sentence upon Reilly. The old man, who, under all possible circ.u.mstances, was so affectionately devoted and attentive to his daughter, immediately proceeded to the room, in a state of great triumph and exultation exclaiming, ”Guilty, guilty; we have noosed him at last.” He even snapped his fingers, and danced about for a time, until rebuked by Mrs.

Hastings.

”Unhappy and miserable old man,” she exclaimed, with tears, ”what have you done? Look at the condition of your only child, whom you have murdered. She is now a maniac.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 176--What, what is this? What do you mean?]

”What,” he exclaimed, rus.h.i.+ng to her, ”what, what is this? What do you mean? Helen, my darling, my child--my delight--what is wrong with you?

Recollect yourself, my dearest treasure. Do you not know me, your own father? Oh, Helen, Helen! for the love of G.o.d speak to me. Say you know me--call me father--rouse yourself--recollect me--don't you know who I am?”

There, however, was the frightfully vacant glance, but no reply.

”Oh,” said she, in a low, calm voice, ”where is William Reilly? They have taken me from him, and I cannot find him; bring me to William Reilly.”

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