f the scene she had gone through.

Soon after the two men had made their apology for a dinner, Mr. Webb,
who had had the verdict brought to his own house, called, and the
three sat for some time talking over what possible means there might
be still left for saving the young man's life. It was at last agreed
that Webb should go up to Dublin on the morrow, and make what
interest he could to see the Lord-Lieutenant himself, as well as the
Under Secretary; and endeavour, by every means in his power, to
obtain a pardon.

After what had been said by the judge whilst pronouncing the
sentence, they all felt that there could be no reasonable ground for
hope; but still they would leave no chance untried, and it was
therefore settled that the counsellor should start by the morning
coach.

Early the next morning the priest left Drumsna for Carrick, to see
Thady for the first time since his condemnation. McKeon offered to go
with him; but he declined the offer, saying, that this morning he
would sooner be left alone with his doomed friend. He refused, too,
the loan of McKeon's car. He wanted to collect his thoughts and his
energy by the walk, for he felt that he had much to do to school his
own feelings before he could make his visit a comfort instead of a
cause of additional distress to Macdermot.

About ten o'clock he passed through the town, and rang the governor's
bell at the gaol door. He was a well-known visitor there now, and
when the door was opened he expected at once, as usual, to be shown
the prisoner's cell; but instead of that he was taken into the
governor's house.

This officer had always been extremely civil to Father John; and had
shown all the kindness in his power, and that was no little, to the
prisoner. He expressed himself to the priest greatly distressed at
the verdict, and the consequent fate of Macdermot.

"It's four years, Father John," said he, "since I had a prisoner in
my charge condemned to die. It's four years since there was an
execution here, and then the victim was a criminal of the blackest
dye--a man who had undoubtedly committed a cold-blooded,
long-premeditated murder. And then his death weighed heavy on me; but
I cannot but believe that this young man is innocent,--at any rate so
much more innocent than he was,--my heart has failed me since he was
brought back last night condemned."

"More innocent than he was!" said Father John. "Ah, indeed he is! If
we were all as innocent of guilt