"Sir Charles Tyrrell," said the Judge, "you quit the bar of this court, not simply acquitted by the verdict of your fellow-countrymen of the crime of which you were suspected, but cleared of the slightest doubt or suspicion whatsoever. Allow me, however, to remark that portion of the pain and anxiety which you have suffered is to be attributed to your having been a party in concealing an act, which the laws of your country required you immediately to reveal. We regard and reverence your high sense of honour, and acknowledge that the circumstances in which you were placed were painful; but the paramount duty of every subject of a civilized country is obedience to the laws of the land in which he lives. I congratulate you most sincerely upon the result of the trial, and while I am sure that it will be a warning to you for the future, I trust it will be a warning to others, especially in this part of the country, where I find that, although a great deal of good feeling does certainly exist, yet very strange and dangerous notions, in regard to right and wrong, are entertained by many classes of the community." Charles Tyrrell bowed in silence, and withdrew from the bar. He was too much affected, and too much overpowered, to speak to any one, but taking the arm of Everard Morrison, he hastened through the passages of the court-house out into the market-square. The court was nearly emptied after him; an immense multitude of persons was assembled without; an extraordinary degree of interest seemed to have been excited in his favour; Everard Morrison was himself an immense favourite with the people, and when the young baronet appeared, leaning on his arm, with his tall commanding figure, looking still taller from the deep mourning in which he was clothed, with his face pale with agitation and deep feeling, and an irrepressible moisture in his eyes, a loud and long-continued shout burst from the multitude. It was scarcely possible for him to make his way across the square to the house of the young lawyer; for though a lane was formed to enable him to pass through the midst, the women pressed forward to see him, the boys run on by his side, gazing up in his face, and the men waved their hats, and shouted in his path. At the house of young Morrison's father he found Longly and his daughter, and good John Hailes and his wife, with the eldest of their children; and, giving way to many mingled emotions, Charles hid his eyes in his handkerchief, and wept. As soon as he was a little calm, however, he said in a low voice to Morrison,-- "Have you got a horse for me here, Morrison, for I long to go to my poor mother?" "No; I have not a horse," replied Morrison, gravely; "but I have ordered four horses to be ready for your carriage." "Nonsense, nonsense, my dear Everard," replied Charles; "I do not go home with such parade as that will make; considering the circumstances, and my father's recent and horrible death, that would be indecent."