“A word—­a word, my Lord:—­is Lord Glenfallen here in the court?” On being told that he was, she raised her voice to a tone of loud menace, and continued—­

“Hardress, Earl of Glenfallen, I accuse you here in this court of justice of two crimes—­first, that you married a second wife, while the first was living, and again, that you prompted me to the murder, for attempting which I am to die—­secure him—­chain him—­bring him here.”

There was a laugh through the court at these words, which were naturally treated by the judge as a violent extemporary recrimination, and the woman was desired to be silent.

“You won’t take him, then,” she said, “you won’t try him?  You’ll let him go free?”

It was intimated by the court that he would certainly be allowed “to go free,” and she was ordered again to be removed.  Before, however, the mandate was executed, she threw her arms wildly into the air, and uttered one piercing shriek so full of preternatural rage and despair, that it might fitly have ushered a soul into those realms where hope can come no more.  The sound still rang in my ears, months after the voice that had uttered it was for ever silent.  The wretched woman was executed in accordance with the sentence which had been pronounced.

For some time after this event, Lord Glenfallen appeared, if possible, to suffer more than he had done before, and altogether, his language, which often amounted to half confessions of the guilt imputed to him, and all the circumstances connected with the late occurrences, formed a mass of evidence so convincing that I wrote to my father, detailing the grounds of my fears, and imploring him to come to Cahergillagh without delay, in order to remove me from my husband’s control, previously to taking legal steps for a final separation.  Circumstanced as I was, my existence was little short of intolerable, for, besides the fearful suspicions which attached to my husband, I plainly perceived that if Lord Glenfallen were not relieved, and that speedily, insanity must supervene.  I therefore expected my father’s arrival, or at least a letter to announce it, with indescribable impatience.

About a week after the execution had taken place, Lord Glenfallen one morning met me with an unusually sprightly air—­

“Fanny,” said he, “I have it now for the first time, in my power to explain to your satisfaction every thing which has hitherto appeared suspicious or mysterious in my conduct.  After breakfast come with me to my study, and I shall, I hope, make all things clear.”

This invitation afforded me more real pleasure than I had experienced for months; something had certainly occurred to tranquillize my husband’s mind, in no ordinary degree, and I thought it by no means impossible that he would, in the proposed interview, prove himself the most injured and innocent of men.  Full of this hope I repaired to his study at the appointed hour; he was writing busily when I entered the room, and just raising his eyes, he requested me to be seated.  I took a chair as he desired, and remained silently awaiting his leisure, while he finished, folded, directed, and sealed his letter; laying it then upon the table, with the address downward, he said—­