When he was finally removed, she seemed to lose all power, and but for the arm of a bystander would have fallen to the ground.  It was not without assistance that she was at length enabled to reach her cabin.

It is strange how man’s feelings and powers are swayed by outward circumstances, and how his pride and strength may be entirely overcome by disheartening appearances!  So it was with Owen:  although constantly visited in prison by his faithful wife—­although conscious of his own innocence—­and although daily receiving assurances of hope from a numerous circle of friends—­yet still his spirit drooped; the gloom of imprisonment, the idea of danger, the ignominy of public execution and all the horrors of innocent conviction, gradually wore away his mental strength; and when the assize time approached, he was but a thin shadow of the former bluff, healthy Owen Duncan.  In so short a time as this, can care and harrowing thought exercise its influence on the human frame!

Never was there a finer or more heavenly morning than that which ushered in the day of trial.  The court-house was crowded to suffocation, the mob outside fearfully numerous, and never before, perhaps, was Ennis in such a state of feverish excitement.  Daly’s murder was as nought in the minds of all, in comparison with Duncan’s accusation.  Alas! the former was an occurrence of too frequent repetition, to be very much thought of; but the latter—­namely, Owen’s being suspected—­was a subject of the extremest wonder.  His former high character—­his sobriety—­his quietness, and his being a native of the town, in some measure accounted for this latter feeling; and there was an inward conviction in most men’s minds, that he was guiltless of the crime for which he was accused.  Although the court-house was crowded, yet when the prisoner was called to the bar, a pin could be heard to drop in any part of the place.  There was a single female figure leaning on the arm of an aged and silver-haired, though hale and healthy countryman, within a few feet of the dock; and as the prisoner advanced, and laying his hand on the iron railing, confronted the judges and the court, she slowly raised the hood of the cloak, in which she was completely muffled, and gazed long and earnestly on his face.  There was in that wistful look, a fear—­a hope—­an undying tenderness; and when his eye met hers, there was a proud, yet soft and warm expression in its glance, that reassured her sinking heart.  As she looked round on the court, and the many strange faces, and all the striking paraphernalia of justice, a slight shudder crept silently over her frame, and she clung closer to her companion, as if to ask for all the protection he could afford.  It was Ellen and her father who came, the former summoned as a witness, and the latter to accompany and support the daughter of his aged heart.