“No; it seems her father and Doldrum the attorney asked her, and she would not tell them; but she said she had made her mind up to attend the trial and see justice done.  Don’t be cast down, Mr. Reilly, though, upon my soul, I think she ought to have stood it out in your favor to the last.”

“Come,” said Reilly, “I am ready; time will tell, Mr. O’Shaughnessy, and a short time too; a few hours now, and all will know the result.”

“I hope in God it may be in your favor, Mr. Reilly.”

“Thank you, O’Shaughnessy; lead on; I am ready to attend you.”

The jail was crowded even to suffocation; but this was not all.  The street opposite the jail was nearly as much crowded as the jail itself, a moving, a crushing mass of thousands having been collected to abide and hear the issue.  It was with great difficulty, and not without the aid of a strong military force, that a way could be cleared for the judge as he approached the prison.  The crowd was silent and passive, but in consequence of the report that the Cooleen Bawn was to appear against Reilly, a profound melancholy and an expression of deep sorrow seemed to brood over it.  Immediately after the judge’s carriage came that of the squire, who was accompanied by his daughter, Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Hastings, for Helen had insisted that her father should procure their attendance.  A private room in the prison had, by previous arrangement, been prepared for them, and to this they were conducted by a back way, so as to avoid the crushing of the crowd.  It was by this way also that the judge and lawyers entered the body of the court-house, without passing through the congregated mass.

At length the judge, having robed himself, took his seat on the bench, and, on casting his eye over the court-house, was astonished at the dense multitude that stood before him.  On looking at the galleries, he saw that they were crowded with ladies of rank and fashion.  Every thing having been now ready, the lawyers, each with his brief before him, and each with a calm, but serious and meditative aspect, the Clerk of the Crown cried out, in a voice which the hum of the crowd rendered necessarily loud: 

“Mr. Jailer, put William Reilly to the bar.”

At that moment a stir, a murmur, especially among the ladies in the gallery, and a turning of faces in the direction of the bar, took place as Reilly came forward, and stood erect in front of the judge.  The very moment he made his appearance all eyes were fastened on him, and whatever the prejudices may have been against the Cooleen Bawn for falling in love with a Papist, that moment of his appearance absolved her from all—­from every thing.  A more noble or majestic figure never stood at that or any other bar.  In the very prime of manhood, scarcely out of youth, with a figure like that of Antinous, tall, muscular, yet elegant, brown hair of the richest shade, a lofty forehead, features of the most manly