“We the jury, in the case of the State against Beryl Brentano, find defendant not guilty as charged in the indictment; but guilty of manslaughter in the first degree; and we do earnestly commend her to the mercy of the Court.”

The girl staggered slightly, as if recoiling from a blow, and Mr. Dunbar caught her arm, steadied her.  The long pent tide of popular feeling broke its barriers, and the gates of Pandemonium seemed to swing open.  Women sobbed; men groaned.  In vain the Judge thundered “Silence”, “Order!” and not until an officer advanced to obey the command, to clear the court-room, was there any perceptible lull, in the storm of indignation.

Turning to the Judge, Mr. Dunbar said: 

“In behalf of the prisoner, I most respectfully beg that the Court will end her suspense; and render her return to this bar unnecessary by promptly pronouncing sentence.”

“Is it the wish of the prisoner, that sentence should not be delayed?”

“She wishes to know her fate.”

She had uttered no sound, but the lashes trembled, fell over the tired, aching, strained eyes; and lifting her locked hands she bowed her chin upon them.

Some moments elapsed, before Judge Parkman spoke; then his voice was low and solemn.

“Beryl Brentano, you have been indicted for the deliberate and premeditated murder of your grandfather, Robert Luke Darrington.  Twelve men, selected for their intelligence and impartiality, have patiently and attentively listened to the evidence in this case, and have under oath endeavored to discover the truth of this charge.  You have had the benefit of a fair trial, by unbiased judges, and finally, the jury in the conscientious discharge of their duty, have convicted you of manslaughter in the first degree, and commended you to the mercy of the Court.  In consideration of your youth, of the peculiar circumstances surrounding you, and especially, in deference to the wishes and recommendation of the jury—­whose verdict, the Court approves, I therefore pronounce upon you the lightest penalty which the law affixes to the crime of manslaughter, of which you stand convicted; which sentence is—­that you be taken hence to the State Penitentiary, and there be kept securely, for the term of five years.”

With a swift movement, Mr. Dunbar drew the crape veil over her face, put her arm through his, and led her into the corridor.  Hurriedly he exchanged some words in an undertone with the two officers, who accompanied him to the rear entrance of the court-house; and then, in answer to a shrill whistle, a close carriage drawn by two horses drew up to the door, followed by the dismal equipage set apart for the transportation of prisoners.  The deputy sheriff stepped forward, trying to shield the girl from the driving rain, and assisted her into the carriage.  Mr. Dunbar sprang in and seated himself opposite.  The officer closed the door, ordered the coachman to drive on, and then entering the gloomy black box, followed closely, keeping always in sight of the vehicle in advance.