While the dark and solemn scene of death had been passing above, with half-closed windows and a darkened apartment, events scarcely less painful had been taking place below, in the broad light of a clear autumn day.

Six magistrates, whom Lord Dewry, with the usual overacting of conscious guilt, had invited, in order to give every appearance of impartiality and justice to his unjust designs, dropped in one by one, and were ushered into the chamber where the peer sat waiting with burning impatience for the arrival of the whole. Totally indifferent to the business themselves, each as he came in tortured the baron with light and impertinent gossip,--of the weather, of the harvest, of the prospects of the country, of the new fashion of dress swords, and the exquisite effect of MarÉchal hair-powder; and forced him into conversation while his heart was full of deep stern thoughts, that abhorred the idle topics on which he was expected to speak. Some, however, mentioned his son, and congratulated him on the rumour of his safety, which had already spread over the county: and here alone the peer found matter on which he could converse feelingly; for the news of his child's safety had come to him, in the midst of the fiery passions that were agitating his bosom, like the thought of a drop of cold water to Dives in the midst of his torments. Each of his visiters wished to know more than general rumour had already told, and many were the inquiries in regard to how Captain de Vaux had been wounded, and who Mr. Harley could be, who had lately taken the house at Little ----. Of all this, however, Lord Dewry could tell them nothing. Colonel Manners's letter had been as laconic as possible; and, therefore, the peer could merely reply, that it appeared the wound had been received by accident, but that he intended to go over, in order to hear more, as soon as they had concluded the business on which they were assembling.

At length the number was complete; and Lord Dewry, having asked the servant who ushered in the last tardy magistrate if all were prepared, proposed that they should proceed to the old justice-room, where they would find everything ready for them.

"The old justice-room!" cried bluff Mr. Arden; "I have not been in there for many a year, my lord. But I have seen many a thing done there, in my young days, that we should not dare to do now. They did not mince the matter in those times; and I remember in the year forty-five--now some three or four-and-twenty years ago--it was quite enough to be strongly suspected for a man to find his way to prison very soon, without all these examinations and investigations. But they are cutting down our powers every day, gentlemen. 'Pon my soul, I think, when they have cut off every other part of my magisterial rights, they will cut off the tails of my coat, for the better protection of the subject, as they call it."

A loud laugh followed; and thus with mirth and merriment they proceeded along the passages of a house, where despair and indignant grief waited anxiously in one room, and suffering, remorse, and death tenanted another. Preceded by two or three regular constables, they reached the little vestibule before the door of the justice-room, where fifteen or sixteen persons were assembled, anxious to witness the proceedings. They had not, however, been admitted without selection; and among them were to be seen none but small tenants and dependants of the lord of the mansion. The little crowd drew back as the magistrates approached; and, the folding-doors being thrown open, they entered the large old-fashioned hall, which had been prepared for their reception. It formed, as has been before said, a long parallelogram at the extreme of the building, built out upon the high bank to the west, and had probably been designed originally for a chapel. Four tall windows on either side rendered the aspect of the whole light and cheerful; and from the south-east the sun, as bright and warm as in the height of summer, was pouring a flood of glorious light, which streamed in long oblique rays of misty splendour across the perspective of the hall. A table, covered with the various implements for writing, crossed the farther extremity of the apartment; and beyond it was an array of chairs for the magistrates, while at each end was a seat for the clerks; and a smaller table, also, under one of the south-east windows, was furnished with paper and pens for another secretary. The windows on that side were open, and the warm soft breath of the southerly wind was felt fanning the cheek, and breathing of nothing but peace, and gentleness, and tranquillity.

The magistrates proceeded to their places, and each taking a seat, left the chair in the centre vacant for the peer; but he, however, declined it, and begged Mr. Arden, as the senior, to preside at their proceedings.

"Nay, nay, my lord," replied the bluff old squire; "your official station in the county, as much as your rank, gives you the precedence."

"In the present instance, however, my dear sir," replied Lord Dewry, "I must appear before you as a private individual, as I am here in some sort as the accuser, and if you find cause to commit the prisoner, I must become the prosecutor. Therefore, I will sit here beside you, but without exercising any official authority in a matter where I am in a degree a party."

"The prisoner cannot say that your lordship has not every disposition to give him impartial justice," answered Mr. Arden, taking the vacant chair. "You would have him let off before, when I would certainly have committed him; and now you will not exercise your authority where he is concerned. Let him be brought in, however. Constables, bring in the prisoner." Two men instantly departed from the farther end of the hall for that purpose, and while they were gone some formal business was transacted, the clerks received their instructions, and one or two of the magistrates looked into Blackstone's new work, the volumes of which had been scattered about upon the table. At length a murmur and the sound of footsteps were heard, and the doors being again opened, the constables re-entered, followed by the persons who had been waiting without, reinforced by several of the servants of the peer, as well as by the footmen and grooms who had accompanied the magistrates thither. The principal object of the whole group, however, was of course the prisoner Pharold, and on him every eye was instantly fixed. Walking between the two constables, who did not attempt to hold him, he advanced boldly up the middle of the hall, and with a slight contraction of the brow, and curl of the lip, gazed on the party assembled to interrogate him with stern and fearless calmness. His wrists were handcuffed, but no other restraint was put upon him; and when he had advanced within a few yards of the table at which the magistrates were seated, he paused of his own will, and waited as if in expectation of what was to follow, merely turning round to some of the crowd who followed, saying, sternly, "Do not press upon me; you are near enough."

Mr. Arden put on his spectacles, and after gazing for a moment or two at the prisoner, he turned towards Lord Dewry, and said, "My lord, will your lordship be good enough to state the charge against this man; as of course that part of the business referring to the murder of your son must be dropped, since it fortunately turns out that he is alive. There are, however, I think, still two serious charges to be disposed of, and probably our best plan will be to examine into them separately: by separately, I mean, distinct from each other, though, as many of us have come some distance, we had better go into both ere we depart."

Lord Dewry paused for several minutes ere he replied; and looked over some papers which he had laid upon the table before him; but in truth a momentary feeling of doubt and embarrassment crossed his mind. He had determined most positively to urge against the gipsy the death of his brother; he had arranged all his plans for that purpose; he had matured them perfectly; he had secured, as far as human ingenuity could go, every link of the chain; and nothing remained but to cast it boldly round his victim; and yet, at the very moment of execution, a doubt and apprehension, a sort of prophetic hesitation, seemed to seize him, and he wished that it had been possible to abandon the charge of the murder of his predecessor, and to confine his accusation to the deer-stealing and the death of Sir Roger Millington, which was now, as he well knew, so near, as to effect all that could be wished, by rendering the charge against Pharold capital.

He wavered for a moment, then, but he saw that the very wish to give up an accusation so boldly made would appear suspicious, if any one discovered it; and turning to Mr. Arden with a faint smile, he asked, "With which of these charges had I better commence, my dear sir? The one which is susceptible of the most immediate proof is that referring to the recent offence."

"No, no, my lord," replied the magistrate, "take them in the order of their dates. Let us get rid of the ancient business before we begin the other. 'Tis well to be off with the old love before we be on with the new, my lord."

"As you think fit," answered the peer, somewhat disappointed at the magistrate's decision, but determined, as he must proceed, to proceed boldly. "Well, then, my charge is as follows:--that the prisoner Pharold, now before you, did, on the 18th day of May, in the year 17--, feloniously and with malice aforethought put to death my unfortunate brother, the late Lord Dewry, in or near that part of the road from Morley village to Green Hampton, which crosses the wood called Morley Wood; and I am now ready to produce sufficient evidence to induce you to commit the prisoner to the county jail for trial."

While he spoke, the gipsy's eye rested on him with a glance so stern, so keen, so searching, that he felt as if the dreadful secret of his bosom--all its motives and all its feelings, its doubts, its apprehensions, its remorse, its complicated plans and subtle contrivances, were undergoing, one by one, the examination of that dark, fixed regard. Though he looked towards the prisoner as little as possible, yet the gipsy's eye was a load upon him, that oppressed and would have confused a less powerful mind than his own. Even as it was, however, he could not bear it without emotion, and turning abruptly to Mr. Arden, he went on,--"I trust, Mr. Arden, that you have brought with you the notes of the former examination."

"Everything! everything, my lord," replied the magistrate; "prepared as I was for the case, I brought every memorandum that could at all bear upon it; and I think my clerk had better read the depositions made at the time, and then you can proceed with any new facts which may have since come to your knowledge."

The peer bowed his head, and the clerk, under Mr. Arden's instructions, proceeded to read a variety of documents relating to facts with which the reader is already acquainted. It is unnecessary, therefore, to repeat them; but the demeanour of the two persons principally interested in the details was in itself sufficiently singular to attract the attention of some of the magistrates, though, if they sought in their own minds for the motives, they were mistaken in the conclusions at which they arrived. During the reading of all the formal and immaterial part of the depositions, the gipsy remained with his eyes fixed upon the ground, and his head slightly bent, with the aspect of one who hears a thing with all the details of which he is too familiar to give it any deep attention. But when the clerk came to his own deposition, and read the declaration which he had made of having seen the murder committed, and marked the murderer so particularly as to be able to swear to him if he ever saw him again, his lip curled with a bitter and a biting sneer, and, raising his head, he fixed his eyes upon his accuser, with a gaze that might well have sunk him to the earth.

Lord Dewry, however, encountered not his glance. He felt that the gipsy's look must be then upon him; and, though he kept his own eyes steadfastly on the papers before him, he turned deadly pale under the consciousness of his own guilt, and the knowledge of what must be passing in the bosom of the innocent man he had accused.

"This is your declaration, made twenty years ago, prisoner!" said Mr. Arden, examining the gipsy's countenance through his spectacles.

"I know it is," answered the gipsy; "and it is truth, which twenty years cannot change as they have done you and me, hard man!"

"Egad, he's right there!" cried the magistrate; "twenty years have worked a woful change both in my eyes and in my teeth; but, thank God, I can ride as fresh as any man after the hounds, and shirk neither fence nor gate."

"Have you anything to add to your declaration, prisoner!" asked Mr. Simpson, in a milder tone. "Nothing," answered Pharold. "Let me ask you, however," continued the other, "whether you have ever, by any chance, seen the murderer since the events which you have detailed in this paper?"

"More than once!" answered the gipsy.

"Then, why did you not point him out for apprehension?" demanded Mr. Simpson.

"Because no one asked me," replied Pharold. "I told yon hard old man, that I would point the murderer out if he were set before me; but I never promised any of you to be as one of your hounds, and seize the game for your sport or advantage."

"Then if the murderer were brought before you," asked another magistrate, "would you point him out, and swear to him?"

The inquiry was taking a turn unpleasing to the peer; for although he felt well convinced that Pharold would, sooner or later, retort the accusation upon him, and was ready to meet it boldly and calmly, yet he was not a little anxious to conclude his own statement of the case first, and to bring forward every circumstance which could criminate the gipsy, in order to take all weight from the testimony of his adversary, and make the magistrates pass it over with contempt.

"I think," he said, rising ere the gipsy could reply--"I think, gentleman, if you will now permit me to proceed with what I have further to adduce, you will find the matter very much simplified, and can then examine the prisoner in whatever manner you think fit."

"Certainly, my lord! certainly!" said some of the more complaisant of the party; but the magistrate who had put the question was less easily turned aside; and he replied,--

"Permit the prisoner, my lord, to answer my question in the first place. My memory is bad," he added, dryly, "and before we got to the end I might forget it. Now, answer me, prisoner,--that is, if you do not object--there is no compulsion, remember,--if the murderer were brought before you, could you and would you point him out, and swear to him!"

"That I could do so," answered Pharold, "I have already said; but that I would do so, I do not know. It would depend upon circumstances."

Lord Dewry looked suddenly up, and their eyes met, but there was nothing in Pharold's glance at that moment but cold stern indifference; and those who saw the look he gave the peer could not have distinguished that he was moved towards him by any other feelings than those which might well exist between the accused and the accuser. Lord Dewry paused, and a momentary feeling of remorse for that which he was engaged in crossed his bosom, now that he saw even persecution would hardly make the gipsy violate his word so far as to betray his fearful secret. But he had gone too far to recede, and he crushed the better feeling. He called up the image of Sir William Ryder returning to England, and supporting a charge against him by the testimony of the gipsy; he recalled the state of feverish apprehension in which he had lived for twenty years; and he went on with the work he had begun, resolved that the struggle should be commenced and ended now for ever, in the vain hope that thus his latter days might pass in peace!

"Now, my lord," said the magistrate, when the gipsy had replied--"now, my lord, I beg pardon for having detained you."

"Well, then, sir," answered Lord Dewry, with some of his haughty spirit breaking out even then--"well, then, if it quite suits your convenience, I will proceed. I must give a slight sketch of some events long passed, gentlemen; and the clerks had better take it down as my deposition, which may be sworn to hereafter. Not very long after my brother's death, gentlemen, I had some money transactions to settle with an honourable friend of mine, one Sir Roger Millington; and I went to London for the purpose. I found him just returned from Ireland; and he told me that, in the neighbourhood of Holyhead, he had met with an accident by which one of his finest horses had nearly been killed; but that he had obtained a secret from a gipsy there by which the animal had been completely cured. You may easily suppose I gave the anecdote but little attention at the time. In settling our accounts, however, Sir Roger had to give me, in change for a larger sum, several smaller notes, on which he wrote his name. I took no great notice of these bits of paper till I returned to the country, when, on looking them over, I found, to my surprise, that one of them was marked with my brother's own name, in his own handwriting. This led to further examination; and in this banker's book, and also in these memoranda, I found, by the dates and numbers of the notes, that the very note in question must have been drawn by my poor brother from his bankers the day before his death. The next thing to be discovered was, where Sir Roger Millington had obtained it; but, as that gentleman was continually moving about from place to place, some time elapsed ere I could see him again. When I did so, however, I found that he had received this very note from a gipsy called Pharold, at Holyhead, in change for a larger one given him in order to purchase the secret by which the worthy knight's horse had been cured."

"A most singular coincidence!" cried Mr. Arden. "Murder will out, gentlemen!"

"For a long time no trace could be discovered of the gipsy," continued Lord Dewry; "but at length he suddenly reappeared in this neighbourhood; and one of my keepers obtained information that he and his gang had laid a plan for robbing my park of the deer. On his telling me this, I ordered him to take such measures as he thought expedient for seizing the whole of them in the fact; much more anxious, indeed, to capture my brother's murderer than to punish the deer-stealers. It so happened, that just at the same time Sir Roger Millington came down to pay me a visit; and on hearing that the culprit was likely to fall into our hands that very night, he insisted upon coming over here, both to direct the operations of the keepers, and to satisfy himself that this gipsy Pharold is the same from whom he received the note. I would fain have persuaded him that it was a wild scheme; but he was a soldier, gentlemen, and accustomed to contemn all dangers. The unhappy result you know. He was mortally wounded, and is now lying in a state of delirium, if he be not already dead. Last night, however, I took advantage of a time when his mind was quite clear and rational, to obtain from him this declaration in the presence of competent witnesses; and herein you will find that he positively states that the man Pharold, whom he saw with the gipsy deer-stealers in Dimden Park, was the same from whom he received this note."

"Foul, hellish liar!" exclaimed Pharold, starting abruptly from the state of calm and apparently indifferent thought in which he had been standing, with his eyes fixed upon the handcuffs on his wrists, and his head bent down. "Foul, hellish liar! He never either gave me aught, or had aught from me! I cured his noble beast for nothing; and not for his sake either; but he gave me naught, nor would I have taken his gold if he had offered it."

"What, then," cried Mr. Arden, "you acknowledge that you did see this gentleman at Holyhead, and did cure his horse by some nostrum in your possession! Clerk, take that down carefully."

"Ay, and take down that, if in dying he say he either gave me aught or received aught from me," continued Pharold, vehemently, "he goes to the place appointed for liars and false witnesses, if the great God of all the universe be a God of justice and righteousness."

"Do you know, gentlemen," said Mr. Arden, turning round and rubbing his hands, "I think that quite enough has been elicited to justify us in committing the prisoner without further ceremony."

"We might perhaps be justified," said Mr. Simpson; "but I think there is something more required of us than that, both by our own consciences and our precise duties. It lies with us to prepare the case as far as possible for superior functionaries; and, therefore, I should propose that we proceed at once to collect every information that is to be procured, and that we do not think of committing the prisoner till we have done so. A great deal more still remains to be--"

Here one of the constables advanced from the other end of the hall, and passing quietly round the table, interrupted the magistrate by handing him a sealed packet, which he instantly opened, and proceeded to read the first lines. While he did so, the constable advanced to the spot where the peer sat, and spoke a few words in a low tone of voice, while another magistrate, taking advantage of Mr. Simpson's silence, proposed that they should adjourn to the bedside of Sir Roger Millington, and receive his deposition officially.

"I am sorry to say," answered Lord Dewry, with as grieved and melancholy an air as he could assume, under circumstances which were in reality satisfactory--"I am sorry to say, gentlemen, that the wise and judicious proceeding just suggested cannot be executed, as the constable has this moment informed me that my poor friend is no more. His dissolution occurred a few minutes ago; and though I grieve for the loss of my friend, it would be vain to say that I am sorry that an event which was inevitable should have taken place so soon, when every hour of prolonged existence was an hour of torture."

"I trust, then, that the declaration which he made last night," said the same magistrate, "was in every respect such as to be admitted in evidence. Will your lordship permit me to examine it?" The paper was handed to him, and he cast his eyes over it without any comment. Mr. Simpson, however, was evidently strongly affected by the packet he had just received. He returned more than once to several of the passages it contained; and when he had satisfied himself of the precise terms, he let the hand which held the paper fall over the arm of the chair; and with a pale cheek and a look of deep thought, continued gazing at vacancy for several moments.

The first thing that seemed to rouse him was a renewal of Mr. Arden's proposal for the instant committal of the prisoner, when, turning round abruptly, he said, "No, Mr. Arden! no! we have not half gone through the case; and something has just been put into my hand which gives a very different aspect to the business altogether. This is a very painful paper, gentlemen; and the task put upon me is a very painful one, but, however, our duty must be done; and I will not shrink from mine. However, let me beg your lordship in the first instance to remark that this thing is no seeking of mine. For many members of your lordship's family I have the utmost respect and regard, and I would not willingly do anything to hurt any of your house; but, as I have said, my duty must be done."

While he spoke, the gipsy's eye lighted up anew, but the countenance of the peer fell. His colour varied twenty times in a minute; but ere the magistrate had done speaking, he had recovered his self-command, and determined on his course, whatever might be the nature of the communication which Mr. Simpson had received. "To what end, may I ask," he said, haughtily, "to what end does all this tissue of idle words lead, sir? Let me beg you to explain yourself, for I can conceive no circumstances under which your professed regard for my family should interfere in any way with the execution of your duty."

"You shall hear, my lord, you shall hear," answered Mr. Simpson, with more mild dignity than the peer had imagined he could assume. "Constables, clear the hall there."

"Shall we take away the prisoner, sir?" demanded one of the men who stood by his side.

The magistrate paused, and then replied, after a moment's thought, "He has a right to hear anything that may benefit himself. He is here before us without legal advice or assistance of any kind; and he must not be shut out from a knowledge of facts which he may have to communicate to his counsel hereafter. You, constable, however, retire to the door. I think we are enough to manage one handcuffed man should he prove turbulent."

None of the other magistrates interfered: the hall was cleared; and Pharold was left standing in the midst, with no other witnesses but the magistrates and their clerks. Restraining all his feelings by a mighty effort, the peer sat sternly gazing upon the speaker, with the violent passions that were working within, discernible only in the starting sinews of the thin clenched hand which he had laid upon the papers before him.

"What I have to read, gentlemen," continued Mr. Simpson, "has just been sent me by the excellent rector of this parish, Dr. Edwards; and it is entitled The dying declaration of Sir Roger Millington, knight. It is, gentlemen, to the following effect;" and he proceeded to read the confession which fear and repentance had induced the dying man to make. The agitation of the peer was dreadful; but it was alone internal; and all that was externally perceptible were those signs of passion and indignation which an innocent man might feel at a false accusation. At length, however, when, in conclusion, the unhappy Sir Roger charged him boldly as the murderer of his brother, Lord Dewry started up, exclaiming,--

"The raving madness of a delirious and dying man! How can you, gentlemen, sit and listen to such trash! But I will soon bring you proof of what state the man was in, when that canting old fanatic saw him and he turned towards the door.

"Sit down, my lord!" said Mr. Simpson, sternly. "I cannot allow you to leave the room."

"Sit down! not allow me!" cried the peer, turning upon him with all the dark and haughty spirit of his heart flashing forth. "Do you dare, sir, to use such terms to me in my own mansion?"

"Anywhere, Lord Dewry!" replied the magistrate. "I say, sit down! or I must give you in custody to one of the officers, I will show you, gentlemen, in what state of mind was the deponent when he made this declaration. Here is the attestation of the surgeon and his assistant, that Sir Roger Millington was, at the moment he signed this paper, perfectly sane and rational; that he did it under the full knowledge that he was a dying man; and that every word here written was exactly used by himself. Gentlemen, this requires immediate investigation; for every word here written must greatly affect the prisoner before us."

Lord Dewry had cast himself down again in his chair; but wrath in the present instance supported hypocrisy; for it was anger and indignation he sought to assume, and the former at least, in the present instance, required no acting. He folded his arms upon his breast, he rolled his dark eye over the form of the magistrate, and he set his teeth in his nether lip till the blood almost started beneath the pressure. In the mean while there was a confused and murmuring conversation among the magistrates, some standing, some sitting, and all talking together. At length Mr. Arden exclaimed, in a loud voice that overpowered the rest,--

"Well, well; this matter requires much consideration. Let us at all events remand the gipsy for four or five days, while we inquire into the rest. Here, he might be tampered with; but let us remand him to the cage at Morley."

"Remand me!" cried the gipsy, in a tone that called instant attention, while his deep black eyes seemed flashing with living fire. "Remand me! remand a man that you know to be innocent! Are these your boasted laws? is this your English equity? Have you no more freedom in your hearts than this? Did ye but know what real freedom is, ye would feel that nothing upon earth,--neither gold, nor wealth, nor friends, nor pleasures, nor health, nor life itself, to the freeman,--is half so dear as liberty! If ye take his gold, ye call it robbery; if ye take his life, ye call it murder; but I tell you, that every minute and every hour of liberty is more than gold or life; and yet, base hypocritical tyrants, without scruple and without remorse, you take from your fellow-creatures, on the slightest pretence, the brightest possession of man, the noblest gift of God. Ere you know whether your fellow-creature be guilty or not ye doom him to the worst of punishments, ye confine him in dungeons, ye fetter his free limbs with iron, ye deny him God's light and God's air, ye make him the companion of devils and fiends, and then ye find that he is innocent, and send him forth into the world degraded, corrupted, vile as ye are yourself,--punished without guilt, and robbed of many a long day of golden liberty by those who pretend to dispense justice, and who talk of equity. Out upon ye, I say! and out upon your laws! If there were such things as liberty and justice in the land, the very rumour that a fellow-creature was deprived of his freedom for an hour, would gather together half the land to see justice done; and he who dared unjustly to deprive a freeman of his liberty would be punished as a traitor against the rights conferred by God. Then would not this bright and beautiful land bear the multitude of prisons that darken the sunshine in every town and village; and speedily the very use for them would be forgotten; for man's heart, ennobled by freedom, would forget crime; or crime, punished on the spot, would be a lesson far more awful. Now ye debase yourselves and your fellow-creatures, and expect them to act nobly; ye punish the innocent with the worst of punishments, and expect them to refrain from guilt. If I am innocent of the crime with which I am charged,--and God knows, and ye all know, that I am,--let me go free. If I be guilty, punish me with death, but take not away my liberty. Death were light, but one other night in a dungeon would crush my very soul!"

There was something so strong, so fiery, so impetuous, in the whole tone and manner of the gipsy, that the magistrates, taken by surprise, sat silent and attentive, till he had concluded an appeal which they certainly had not expected. "There is some reason in what you say," answered Mr. Simpson, mildly, "and, perhaps, if we had tasted a few hours' imprisonment ourselves, we should not be so ready to send others to that fate, as we are found too often. However, now answer me, prisoner: you have declared that if the murderer of the late Lord Dewry were set before you, you could recognise him, and swear to him. I ask you, therefore, do you see him now?"

A powerful emotion, which he could not resist, made the peer suddenly turn away, as the magistrate thus addressed the gipsy; and Pharold's dark keen eyes fixed sternly upon him. For several long, terrible, anxious moments the gipsy was silent, and many were the strong and agitating passions which struggled in his heart, and threw their alternate shadows over his countenance; but at length he replied, in a low but solemn and distinct voice, "I have said that I could tell, but I have not said that I would; and I now say that, come what will to myself, I will accuse no man."

The magistrates gazed at each other for a brief space, both surprised and perplexed; but at that moment there was heard the sound of chariot-wheels, the step of a carriage violently thrown down, and a considerable bustle and speaking in the passages beyond. The next instant the door of the hall was thrown open, and a gentleman entered, with his hat still on his head, and a large fur cloak cast round him, as he had got out of his carriage.

"I really must have the hall kept clear," exclaimed Mr. Simpson. "We are here in private deliberation, and no one must be admitted."

The stranger, however, without paying the slightest attention, walked straight up the middle of the hall; and laying his hand upon the gipsy's arm, as he passed the spot where he stood, "I have come," he said, "to deliver an innocent man." The next moment he advanced to the table; and taking off his hat gazed round upon the magistrates.

The effect produced upon several persons present was no less strange than sudden. The peer, with a countenance as pale as ashes, a quivering lip and haggard eye, staggered up from his seat, grasped the arm of the intruder, and holding him at arm's length, gazed in his face, with an expression of doubt, and surprise, and horror. Mr. Arden rubbed the glasses of his spectacles, exclaiming, "Good God! good God! This is very strange! It can't be--no, it can't be!"

"It is! it is!" exclaimed the peer, falling back into his chair, and covering his eyes with his hands. "It is! it is! thank God! oh! thank God!" and the deep groan which accompanied his expression of joy, far from lessening its force, seemed to speak that the load of worlds was taken off his heart.

"In the name of Heaven, sir, who are you?" exclaimed one of the younger magistrates.

"Who is he?" exclaimed the gipsy, "who should he be, but William Lord Dewry. There are plenty here who must know him well."

"And none better than myself," cried Mr. Arden. "My Lord, are you living or dead?"

"Living, sir," replied the person whom we have hitherto known by the name of Sir William Ryder. "Had I not believed, gentlemen, that in this hall I have as much right as any one, I should not have intruded upon your deliberations; but as I learned this morning that my friend Pharold here, to whom I owe my life, was brought before you on a charge of taking it, I felt myself bound to interfere. You must, therefore, permit me to be present at your further deliberations.--Edward," he continued, turning to his brother, "you had better retire. We have matter for much thought and for much emotion between us, which were as well confined to ourselves alone."

"But, my lord'. but, my lord!" exclaimed Mr. Arden, "here is an accusation made formally against your brother, also, of the same crime with which the gipsy was charged."

"Who made it?" exclaimed Lord Dewry, looking somewhat reproachfully at Pharold.

"Not I," answered the gipsy,--"I bring a false accusation against no man."

"At all events, sir," rejoined the peer, turning to Mr. Arden, "it must be sufficiently evident to all, that my brother, whatever may have been our personal differences, cannot be guilty of my murder, as I am here alive and well. I say again, therefore, that you had better retire, Edward, and leave me to conclude this business as I see fit; unless, indeed," he added--"unless you are inclined to contest either my identity or my rights."

"No, no, no!" cried the other, starting up vehemently, and clasping his hands together, while the burning tears of intense emotion rolled rapidly over his cheeks. "No, no! So help me God, I would not lose the knowledge that you are living for the highest rank and noblest fortune that the earth could give; and I tell you, William, that to lay down at your feet that which I have wrongfully possessed, to give up to you wealth and station, and retire to poverty and obscurity, will be the happiest act of my whole life. It will! it will! as there is truth in Heaven, whatever my conduct heretofore may have caused you to believe--and now I leave you."

"That is one step at least," said the peer. "Fare you well for the present. I will join you soon.--And now, gentlemen," he continued, turning to the magistrates, as his brother, with a slow and faltering step, quitted the hall--"and now let us proceed, as quickly as possible, to render justice to a man who has been erroneously accused, and subjected already to some loss of liberty,--a loss which I know is more bitter to him than the loss of life would be."

"Why, my lord, one would think you had turned gipsy yourself," said Mr. Arden, "you speak so exactly the same sentiments which he has himself expressed."

"I have mingled much with persons who feel the same ardent love for uncontrolled liberty," replied the peer somewhat dryly, "and it is therefore that I wish at once to proceed to those matters which may instantly set this good and honest man at liberty. It is evident, gentlemen, that the charge against him must instantly be discharged, and therefore it may be better to order those unworthy handcuffs to be taken instantly from his wrists."

"Not so fast, my lord," said Mr. Arden, who was not well pleased with the tone in which the peer replied to him, and who had also a strong disposition to commit every one who was committable. "Although your sudden, miraculous, and very strange reappearance must of course put an end to all proceedings relative to a murder which has not taken place, yet there is another charge of a nature equally grave against the prisoner, which renders it impossible to discharge him in the summary method which you seem inclined to urge. There is a charge of deer-stealing followed by murder, in both of which crimes it is pretty evident that the prisoner has taken part. I should like to know, too, before I part with him, whether the whole story that he told of your being shot by a man on horseback had any foundation, or was a mere invention."

"In regard to the last point I will satisfy you at once," replied Lord Dewry, "as far as I ever intend to satisfy any one. I was met by a man on horseback, as I believe the gipsy told you, who demanded money of me, and on my refusing it, somewhat harshly indeed, he did fire at and wound me. My horse took fright, and plunged into the river; I fell from the saddle, deprived of all sense; and had not that good man, Pharold, leaped into the stream, dragged me out, and given me into the hands of those who tended me with kindness and wisdom, my fate would not have been doubtful for a moment. In regard to my after-conduct, private motives determined it, into which no one has any right to inquire. They were such as satisfied my own heart and my own understanding, and that is sufficient."

"And pray, my lord," demanded Mr. Arden, "were you acquainted with the person who wounded you? Could you swear to him?"

"I am not making a charge before you as a county magistrate," replied Lord Dewry; "but telling you an anecdote as an old acquaintance; and let me add, that my story is done. In regard to any further charge against Pharold, there is, I think, by this time sufficient evidence collected at the hall door to prove that he took no part either in the destruction of the deer or the violence offered to the gamekeepers. If you will order the persons who were present to be called in you will soon be satisfied."

"I beg your pardon, my lord," said Mr. Simpson: "I am most happy to see you once again, when such a thing appeared impossible; but still I am afraid the course you suggest cannot be pursued."

"And why not, sir?" demanded Lord Dewry: "I believe that I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Simpson, though time has somewhat altered his features: if so, I address both a humane and reasonable man; and I ask why cannot the plain and straightforward course I propose be pursued at once?"

"Let them have their way, William de Vaux! Let them have their way!" cried the gipsy, whose dark features had been working under the influence of many a contending passion since his friend had appeared. "Let them have their way! One and all they are set in their own hearts to do injustice. What, indeed, are they there for, but to dispense that kind of injustice that you call law? Let them have their way! They are but working out the inevitable will of fate; and though they bring the curse of innocent blood upon their head, they needs must do it."

"If your lordship, during your long absence, have not forgot entirely the customs of this country," replied Mr. Simpson, as soon as he could make himself heard, "you will perceive at once, that, as one of the unfortunate victims of this deer-stealing affray has died in this very house, not half an hour ago, it is our bounden duty not to discharge a prisoner against whom a charge upon oath of participation in the crime has been made by an eyewitness, until the coroner shall have sat upon the body, and returned a verdict; nor have we, I believe, any right to take the matter out of the coroner's hands, by previously examining the witnesses, which must afterward appear before his jury. I am grieved to oppose you, I am grieved to inflict further imprisonment on a man of whose innocence I do not entertain any strong doubts; but Harvey, the head keeper, has sworn that the prisoner was present, aiding and abetting, when Sir Roger Millington was wounded, and we should not be justified even in receiving bail till the coroner's jury have returned their verdict."

Lord Dewry bit his lip, and remained silent for a few moments, while Mr. Arden rubbed his hands, and elevated his eyebrows with the air of a man who considers all opposition as silenced; and the gipsy eyed the bench of magistrates with a look in which scorn was the only expression that tempered hatred and indignation. "Pray, sir, how long must it be ere the coroner can be summoned?" demanded the peer. "You know not what you are inflicting upon a man as honest as any one present. To him every hour of his freedom is more than life; and I could give you fully sufficient proof to show that while his innocence of the crime charged against him is clear, the punishment inflicted on him by imprisonment cannot be estimated by the feelings of other men under such circumstances."

"The coroner cannot even be summoned to-day, my lord," replied Mr. Arden; "and, consequently, it must be to-morrow or the next day ere the gipsy can be liberated, even if the result be as favourable to him as you expect. But what are two or three days spent in a snug warm room to a man who has never known any thing better than a hovel in a sandpit? Where is the great hardship? I see no very severe infliction."

"To him it is the most severe," replied Lord Dewry; "and if it be possible--"

"Cease, cease, William," cried Pharold, in a bitter and earnest tone; "you degrade those noble lips by pleading in vain to men who can neither understand your heart nor mine. Besides, it matters not, it matters not. The long weary line of life has come to its end with me. All that I had to do is done. I have seen you break through all your good and wise designs, all your humane and generous scruples, for the purpose of defending and delivering me; I have seen you return to your home, and claim your own; and so far I have seen my utmost desire. But hear what I have seen more," he continued with a rising tone, while his eye flashed, his dark cheek flushed, and his brows knit together--"hear what I have seen more, William de Vaux, and then see whether I ought to care for anything else after. I have seen my people mock my care, and refuse my counsels! I have seen one of my own tribe betray me, in order to liberate himself! I have seen the wife of my bosom take part in the scheme for delivering me over to imprisonment and death, by the means of my best affections! I have spent a whole bright autumn night in a prison! I come forth into the day with bonds upon my hands, and I hear myself condemned, without crime, to the torture of a longer slavery in chains and stone walls!" As he went on, he spoke more and more rapidly, and his eye rolled over the magistrates, as he lashed himself into phrensy, by a recapitulation of his sufferings and his wrongs. "But think not," he continued furiously, "think not that bolts, or bars, or walls shall keep me in another night, in the living tomb into which ye have thrust me! No, no, there is always a way for a bold heart to set itself free! Thus, thus I spurn your chains from me!" and by one great effort of skill and strength he slipped his hands out of the handcuffs, which were somewhat too large, and dashed them down into the midst of the hall.

"Constables! constables!" shouted Mr. Arden.

"You call in vain, hard, stone-hearted man," cried Pharold, shaking his clenched hand at him, "you call in vain;" and bounding to the side of the hall on which the tall windows had been thrown open, he set one foot upon the secretary's table, and with a single spring reached the high window sill, catching with his hand the small stone column on which the casements hung. There he paused for one moment; and turning his head, exclaimed, "William de Vaux, noble William de Vaux, farewell,--for ever, and ever, and ever, farewell."

He let go his hold: he sprang forward, and was lost to the sight. The next moment the dull heavy splash of a large body falling into the water rose up and was carried by the wind through the open windows into the justice-room.

"Run round, run round," cried Mr. Arden to the constables, who were now hurrying in; "he has escaped through the window; run round there by the outside."

One or two instantly followed these directions; but another sprang up to the window to mark the course of the fugitive, and point it out to the pursuers.

"He must have jumped into the stream, gentlemen," said the man, turning to speak to the magistrates, as soon as he had reached the spot where Pharold had stood the moment before. "He must have jumped into the stream, for there is not footing for a mouse."

"He did, he did: we heard him," answered Mr. Arden. "Look out, and see where he comes to land. My lord, why do you cover your face with your hand? you seem more sorry for the prisoner's escape than I anticipated."

"It is because I know him better than you do, sir," answered the peer; "and I fear that you have driven him further than you imagine."

"I can see nothing on the river, gentlemen," cried the constable, "but the bubbles and the eddies where he must have gone down. There's a shoulder, there's a shoulder, I do believe; and his long black hair as I live:--it is gone again; he is down--I see no more of it."

Lord Dewry started up and rushed out; but it was in vain that every effort was made to find the gipsy living or dead. The constables who had run round the justice-room declared that they had never seen anything rise. The other, who had watched from the window, soon became very doubtful in regard to the reality of the objects he had seen floating down the stream. An old labourer, who had been working at a distance, stated that he had remarked something fall from the window of the justice-room into the water, but had seen nothing come to land. The peer, with as many people as he could collect, followed the course of the river for some way; and the constables, though with different views, pursued the same course. In the meanwhile, the magistrates continued in deliberation, as it is called; although it must be acknowledged that their conversation referred much more particularly to, and rested much more pertinaciously upon, the strange return of Lord Dewry, the various circumstances which could have given occasion to his absence, and the various events to which his re-appearance would give rise, than even to the disappearance of the prisoner, and the after-measures to be adopted.

The matter, however, was quite sufficiently interesting to make three quarters of an hour pass unnoticed; and at the end of that time a servant appeared to inform them that, as the body of the unhappy gipsy could not be found, Lord Dewry did not intend to intrude upon them again, and that he had only to request that due information of the death of Sir Roger Millington might be given to the coroner.

The magistrates received the message--probably as it was intended--as a hint that their further presence at Dimden was not desired. Mr. Arden laughed, and declared that he would take care to tease his lordship for his want of courtesy, by asking him unpleasant questions whenever he met him; but Mr. Simpson, on the contrary, looked grave and sad, and as he parted with his fellow-magistrates declared his intention of withdrawing from his official duties. "I should never," he said, "be able to remove from my mind the impression of that unfortunate gipsy's fate, and I should fear that it might have some effect upon the execution of my duty in future."