"Not guilty."

Dacre's glance moved gravely around the vast hall and met the gaze of a
thousand eyes without flinching. Fate willed that it should distinguish
a pale, lovely face amid the press that lined the galleries, and linger
thereon a moment as though loath to turn aside; but even while he gazed,
the drapery and shoulder of another woman were interposed between his
sight and the delicate features of Mary Lincoln, and shut her from his
view. "What say you, Geoffrey Ripon? Are you guilty or not guilty?"

It was these words that had caused the stranger to lean forward and
crane her neck--a beautiful neck that, muffled as she was, did not
wholly escape the admiration of her neighbors. Her eyes sparkled with a
light cold and malicious as the gleam which emanates from a blade of
steel. As the lips of young Geoffrey Ripon flung back a clear denial of
the charge, a hope was in his heart that the sweet maiden of his fancy
might be among the hundreds looking down. She was not there, but her
rival, Mrs. Oswald Carey, sat and watched each shade of his expression.

And now the witnesses were summoned and confronted the prisoners. The
proofs were ample and overwhelming. It almost seemed mistrusting the
intelligence of the judges to dwell upon the evidence, to quote the
opening words of the attorney-general, and as a consequence the argument
of that official was a model of conciseness. Then the time was come for
the defendants' counsel. Mr. Benjamin arose and spoke for an hour. His
speech was painstaking, but not particularly impressive. In conclusion
he said that rebellion had often been punished before without the
shedding of blood. He instanced Jefferson Davis, the great Secessionist,
and the clemency of the American people. Mr. McPherson in reply adduced
the Irish rebels executed by the government of Victoria, and thereat a
shout arose which shook the walls of Parliament and was echoed by the
crowd outside. Even the prisoners glanced at each other with downcast
looks. The perspiration stood out in beads on the bald head of the Duke
of Bayswater.

"It is all up with us," whispered Ripon to Dacre.

"My God and my King! It is a noble cause to die for," answered the
cavalier, and his proud face looked beatified.

There was a dread and awful silence as the attorney-general finished his
last words. The hour for judgment had arrived, unless it were that some
senator or commoner wished to speak for or against the prisoners. A