l some further delay after Mr. O'Malley had sat down.
Mr. McKeon got up to go and help to bring her into court, but just
in the doorway he met a man who whispered to him; he did not return
however, but hurried on to the room where he had left his wife, and
reached it just as the breath left the poor girl's body. In spite
of their distress it was apparent to all that the truth must be
immediately made known in the court, and Mr. McKeon was leaving for
the purpose of telling Mr. O'Malley, when Father John laid his hand
upon his friend's shoulder, and said--

"Poor Thady, it will break his heart to hear it. It must be kept from
him. But heaven only knows what's best; he must hear it at last. Go,
McKeon, and tell O'Malley; he'll know what's best to do."

McKeon returned into court, and making his way with difficulty close
up to the barrister, whispered in his ear that his witness was no
more.

Mr. O'Malley, who had been standing, instantly sat down, as if
appalled by the suddenness of the event. Every one in the court who
had seen McKeon's face as he entered, felt aware that something had
happened to Feemy.

The judge leaned forward over his desk, addressing himself
particularly to Mr. O'Malley, and said,--

"Is Miss Macdermot too unwell, Mr. O'Malley, to be brought into
court?"

"My lord," said he again, rising from his seat, "she has already gone
before another judgment-seat. Macdermot," and he turned round to the
prisoner in the dock, "you have borne your sorrows hitherto like
a man; you must try and bear this also--your sister is dead. She
has fallen the first victim--God forbid that another should be
sacrificed. My lord, my cause is now done; there is now no living
witness, but the prisoner, of that scene which I described to you.
The case must go to the jury as it is."

During the time of the whole trial, Thady had stood upright at the
bar, with his elbow leaning on the wooden rail, and his face resting
on his arm. He had almost constantly kept his eye upon the speakers,
occasionally turning his gaze to the place where Father John had sat
during the trial, to see that he had not deserted him. During the
speech which Mr. O'Malley had made on his behalf, he had brightened
up, and looked more cheerful than he had done for many months. When
that was finished he had felt more sanguine as to his acquittal than
he had done at any time since he had first given himself up as a
prisoner. During the short pause which o