ou want to make me guilty, you deep
villain?"

It seemed as if the current of his thoughts and feelings had taken a new
direction, though it is probable that the excitement which appeared to
be rising within him was only the courage of fear.

"You all wish to find me guilty," he added: "but I'll show you that I'm
not guilty."

He immediately walked towards the corpse, and stooping down, touched the
body with one hand, holding the gun in the other. The interest of that
moment was intense, and all eyes were strained towards the spot.
Behind the corpse, at each shoulder--for the body lay against a small
snow-wreath, in a recumbent position--stood the father of the deceased
and the father of the accused, each wound up by feelings of a directly
opposite character to a pitch of dreadful excitement over them, in his
fantastic dress and white beard, stood the tall mendicant, who held up
his crucifix to Frank, with an awful menace upon his strongly marked
countenance. At a little distance to the left of the body stood other
men who were assembled, having their torches held aloft in their
hands, and their forms bent towards the corpse, their laces indicating
expectation, dread, and horror The female relations of the deceased
nearest his remains, their torches extended in the same direction, their
visages exhibiting the passions of despair and grief in their wildest
characters, but as if arrested by some supernatural object immediately
before their eyes, that produced a new and more awful feeling than
grief. When the body was touched, Frank stood as if himself bound by a
spell to the spot. At length he turned his eyes to the mendicant, who
stood silent and motionless, with the crucifix still extended in his
hand.

"Are you satisfied now?" said he.

"That's wanst," said the pilgrim: "you're to touch it three times."

Frank hesitated a moment, but immediately stooped again, and touched it
twice in succession; but it remained still and unchanged as before! His
father broke the silence by a fervent ejaculation of thanksgiving to God
for the vindication of his son's character which he had just witnessed.

"Now!" exclaimed M'Kenna, in a loud, exulting tone, "you all see that I
did not murdher him!"

"You did!" said a voice, which was immediately recognized to be that of
the deceased.

M'Kenna shrieked aloud, and immediately fled with his gun towards
the mountains, pursued by Reillaghan's other son. The crowd rushed
in toward