onvenience of counsel, should be first proceeded with. The court was
presided over by Mr. Justice Grose; and Mr. Gurney--afterwards Mr. Baron
Gurney--with another gentleman appeared for the prosecution. As soon as
the judge had taken his seat, the prisoner was ordered to be brought in,
and a hush of expectation pervaded the assembly. In a few minutes he made
his appearance in the dock. His aspect--calm, mournful, and full of
patient resignation--spoke strongly to the feelings of the audience, and
a low murmur of sympathy ran through the court. He bowed respectfully to
the bench, and then his sad, proud eye wandered round the auditory, till
it rested on the form of Lucy Carrington, who, overcome by sudden
emotion, had hidden her weeping face in her father's bosom. Strong
feeling, which he with difficulty mastered, shook his frame, and blanched
to a still deeper pallor his fine intellectual countenance. He slowly
withdrew his gaze from the agitating spectacle, and his troubled glance
meeting that of Mr. Sharpe, seemed to ask why proceedings, which _could_
only have one termination, were delayed. He had not long to wait. The
jury were sworn, and Mr. Gurney rose to address them for the crown.
Clear, terse, logical, powerful without the slightest pretence to what is
called eloquence, his speech produced a tremendous impression upon all
who heard it; and few persons mentally withheld their assent to his
assertion, as he concluded what was evidently a painful task, "that
should he produce evidence substantiating the statement he had made, the
man who could then refuse to believe in the prisoner's guilt, would
equally refuse credence to actions witnessed by his own bodily eyes."

The different witnesses were then called, and testified to the various
facts I have before related. Vainly did Mr. Kingston and I exert
ourselves to invalidate the irresistible proofs of guilt so
dispassionately detailed. "It is useless," whispered Mr. Sharpe, as I sat
down after the cross-examination of the aged butler. "You have done all
that could be done; but he is a doomed man, spite of his innocence, of
which I feel, every moment that I look at him, the more and more
convinced. God help us; we are poor, fallible creatures, with all our
scientific machinery for getting at truth!"

The case for the crown was over, and the prisoner was told that now was
the time for him to address the jury in answer to the charge preferred
against him. He bowed cour