His lordship’s exposition of the law and the testimony, in his instructions, might be considered a virtual acquittal of the prisoner. It was like the usual charges of Sir James Allan Parke—short, clear, and pointed. “Gentlemen of the Jury, you have heard the charge upon which the prisoner at the bar stands arraigned, and which has been clearly set forth by the counsel for the crown, and well sustained by the witnesses he has produced. You have also heard how that charge has been met and answered by the counsel for the prisoner. The fact of two marriages having taken place under the circumstances set forth, is fully established by testimony. The learned advocate for the accused rests his defense upon the alleged invalidity of the first marriage. Now, upon the validity or invalidity of that marriage, this court has no authority to pronounce judgment, the adjudication of such matters belongs, exclusively, to the Spiritual Court of Arches. If the first marriage was invalid, it would form no obstacle to the second marriage, which in such case would not be illegal. And if, on the other hand, the first marriage was perfectly valid, the second marriage would be illegal; but not necessarily _felonious_. Intention is the soul of crime. From the evidence before you, if you find that the prisoner at the bar, upon the occasion of solemnizing marriage with Lord Montressor, knew, or had good and sufficient cause to believe that she had already a husband living—it will be your duty to convict her. If, on the other hand, you find that she knew, or had good and sufficient reason to believe herself legally free to contract the said marriage, it becomes your duty to acquit her. To this single point is drawn the question. You are to judge upon it, and render your verdict accordingly.” The Judge ceased and resumed his seat. The jury retired under the conduct of the sheriff’s officer, to another room to deliberate. Then the spell of breathless silence that had bound the spectators was dissolved. They breathed and spoke—a buzz of voices filled the room. As for Estelle, she changed not from the frozen, stony look into which she had been at first appalled by the official abuse of the crown’s counsel. Lord Montressor stooped and whispered to her,— “My own Estelle, courage! courage for a few moments longer! and then all will be over; all will be well! You are already more than acquitted, you are justified, you are vindicated.” “Oh, I know, I know all!” replied a sepulchral voice, that Lord Montressor scarcely recognized as belonging to his silver-tongued Estelle. In a moment, silence fell again like death upon the court-room. It was produced by the opening of a door, and the appearance of the bailiff, ushering in the jury. They advanced to their place. The foreman stood before the Judge. Not a breath was drawn, scarcely a pulse beat in that crowded court-room for the space of a minute, during which the Judge inquired: