As the evidence gradually transpired and came to the ears of Mary, the effect produced upon her was of a character so intense, that no person thought she could support life under its influence. A series of swoons for many days seemed to divide her life with death. Her nerves suffered alternations of high excitement and the lowest depression; and, at times, her screams were heard far from the house, and by passengers going along the street. In quieter moments, she cried for Giulio Massetto, and said she would now consent to his conditions. The people around her conceived she was raving, and paid no attention to her wild request; though they could not restrain their tears, when they thought of the extraordinary fate of the unfortunate girl. Her early and romantic love for John Connal--the interruption of her marriage by the death of her intended father-in-law--her sufferings under the terror, very far from being causeless, that her father would expiate on the scaffold the crime of murdering her lover's parent;--these things became topics of ordinary conversation, and brought tears to the eyes of many; but no one on earth knew all the sufferings of Mary Glenday. Her restless nights--her frightful dreams--her cold shivering fears, real and imaginary--her dependence on the word of a villain for the life of a parent--the conduct she was obliged to pursue towards her lover, for whom her affection had not diminished--and the nervous state of body into which she had fallen, formed a load of misery which would have bowed the head of an ordinary mortal to the grave. Nor was the poor maiden now far from that place of rest. No extenuating evidence could be procured for her father, and the trial was fixed to take place within a fortnight. Every day of this period brought her more near to the termination of a mortal's career. She gradually sank to the last stage of life. The medical gentleman who attended her saw that she could not survive the period of the trial. John Connal was continually by her bedside. He had forgotten and forgiven all; though he had not got a proper explanation of her mysterious conduct. A faint glimmering of light, however, found its way into his mind; but any hope produced by it was in a moment clouded by the dreadful thought, that she had all along suspected her father to be the murderer of his parent, and had even taken means to conceal it, if she did not, by washing the sword and her father's coat, absolutely approve of it. When these thoughts came across young Connal's mind, he flew from the object of his love, beating his breast in agony; but pity again recalled him; and between so many conflicting passions, he was next to being a madman.