he time, and that the failure of this attempt was now the cause of
the young man's illness and probable death. Meekins's character received
many commentaries and explanations. Some alleged that he was animated by
an old grudge against the family, never to be forgiven. Others said that
it was to some incident of the war abroad that he owed his hatred to
young Dalton; and, lastly, it was rumored that, having some connection
with the conspiracy, he was anxious to wipe his conscience of the guilt
before he took on him the orders of some lay society, whose vows he
professed. All these mysterious and shadowy circumstances tended to
heighten the interest of the coming event, and the city was crowded
in every part by strangers, who not only filled the Court-house, but
thronged the street in front, and even occupied the windows and roofs of
the opposite houses.

From daylight the seats were taken in the galleries of the Court; the
most distinguished of the neighboring gentry were all gathered there,
while in the seats behind the bench were ranged several members of the
peerage, who had travelled long distances to be present. To the left of
the presiding judge sat Count Stephen, calm, stern, and motionless, as
if on parade. If many of the ceremonials of the court and the general
aspect of the assemblage were new and strange to his eyes, nothing in
his bearing or manner bespoke surprise or astonishment. As little, too,
did he seem aware of the gaze of that crowded assembly, who, until the
interest of the trial called their attention away, never ceased to stare
steadfastly at him.

At the corner of the gallery facing the jury-box D'Esmonde and Cahill
were seated. The Abbe, dressed with peculiar care, and wearing the blue
silk collar of an order over his white cravat, was recognized by the
crowd beneath as a personage of rank and consideration, which, indeed,
his exalted and handsome features appeared well to corroborate. He
sustained the strong stare of the assemblage with a calm but haughty
self-possession, like one well accustomed to the public eye, and who
felt no shrinking from the gaze of a multitude. Already the rumor ran
that he was an official high in the household of the Pope, and many
strange conjectures were hazarded on the meaning of his presence at the
trial.

To all the buzz of voices, and the swaying, surging motion of a vast
crowd, there succeeded a dead silence and tranquillity, when the judges
took their seats