e repentant sinner. He concluded
by ordering that he should be taken back to the place from whence he
came, and be brought from thence to the place of execution on the
Monday week following, and then and there be hung by his neck till he
should be dead.

The assizes were then finished--the judge immediately left the
court--the prisoner was taken back to his cell--the lights were
extinguished--and when the servants of the sheriff came to lock the
door, they found Mr. McKeon still vainly endeavouring to arouse the
broken-hearted priest from his ecstasy of sorrow.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE END.

On Saturday morning the little town of Carrick-on-Shannon again
became quiet and, comparatively speaking, empty. The judges left it
very early; most of the lawyers had taken wing and flown towards
Sligo, seeking fresh quarries, on the previous evening. The jury were
released, and had returned weary to their homes; the crowds of
litigants and witnesses who had filled the Record Court had also left
on the Thursday evening; and now those who had been wanted in the
criminal court were gone, and peace and quiet were restored. At
eleven o'clock neither of the hotels were open; the waiters and
servants who, during the last week had literally not known what a bed
was, and who, during that week, had snatched their only disturbed
naps before the kitchen fires, or under the kitchen dressers, were
taking their sleep out for the past week. It was still raining hard,
and the long, narrow, untidy street was still as dirty and
disagreeable as ever; otherwise there was no resemblance in it to the
street of the last few days. There was no crowd around the court
house, nor policemen with cross chains on their caps, nor sheriffs'
servants with dirty, tawdry liveries. The assizes were over; and till
next July--when the judges, barristers, jury, &c., would all return,
Carrick was doomed to fall back to its usual insignificance as a most
uninteresting county town.

As Father John left the town on the previous evening, he sent word up
to the governor of the gaol that he would see young Macdermot early
on the following morning. He did not go home to the Cottage, but
again passed the night at Mr. McKeon's, at Drumsna; and a most sad
and melancholy night it was. After witnessing Feemy's death, and
seeing that the body had been decently and properly disposed, Mrs.
McKeon had returned home, and her husband had found her quite ill
from the effects o