The judge’s charge was brief.  He told the jury that they could not convict the prisoner on the imputed felony of the jewels; but that the proof of his having taken away Miss Folliard from her father’s house, with—­as the law stood—­her felonious abduction, for the purpose of inveigling her into an unlawful marriage with himself, was the subject for their consideration.  Even had he been a Protestant, the law could afford him no protection in the eye of the Court of Chancery.

The jury retired; but their absence from their box was very brief.  Unfortunately, their foreman was cursed with a dreadful hesitation in his speech, and, as he entered, the Clerk of the Crown said: 

“Well, gentlemen, have you agreed in your verdict?”

There was a solemn silence, during which nothing was heard but a convulsive working about the chest and glottis of the foreman, who at length said: 

“We—­we—­we—­we have.”

“Is the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?”

Here the internal but obstructed machinery of the chest and throat set to work again, and at last the foreman was able to get out—­“Guilty—­”

Mrs. Hastings had heard enough, and too much; and, as the sentence was pronounced, she instantly withdrew; but how to convey the melancholy tidings to the Cooleen Bawn she knew not.  In the meantime the foreman, who had not fully delivered himself of the verdict, added, after two or three desperate hiccups—­“on the second count.”

This, if the foreman had not labored under such an extraordinary hesitation, might have prevented much suffering, and many years of unconscious calamity to one of the unhappy parties of whom we are writing, inasmuch as the felony of the jewels would have been death, whilst the elopement with a ward of Chancery was only transportation.

When Mrs. Hastings entered the room where the Cooleen Bawn was awaiting the verdict with a dreadful intensity of feeling, the latter rose up, and, throwing her arms about her neck, looked into her face, with an expression of eagerness and wildness, which Mrs. Hastings thought might be best allayed by knowing the worst, as the heart, in such circumstances, generally collects itself, and falls back upon its own resources.

“Well, Mrs. Hastings, well—­the verdict?”

“Collect yourself, my child—­be firm—­be a woman.  Collect yourself—­for you will require it.  The verdict—­Guilty!”

The Cooleen Bawn did not faint—­nor become weak—­but she put her fair white hand to her forehead—­then looked around the room, then upon Mrs. Brown, and lastly upon Mrs. Hastings.  They also looked upon her.  God help both her and them!  Yes, they looked upon her countenance—­that lovely countenance—­and then into her eyes—­those eyes!  But, alas! where was their beauty now?  Where their expression?

“Miss Folliard! my darling Helen!” exclaimed Mrs. Hastings, in tears—­“great God, what is this, Mrs. Brown?  Come here and look at her.”