time of giving her the medicine, warned her of its dangerous strength, and strictly enjoined her not to administer more than ten drops; but Mary, prepared for such questions, positively denied the fact, alleging, that Edith had merely desired her, when she saw the child looking pale, to give it the contents of the phial.

Ten

"My lord," said Edith, in her defence, "this woman has sworn falsely. The medicine I gave was a sovereign remedy, if given as I ordered. drops would have saved the child's life; but the contents of the phial destroyed it. The words I uttered were prayers for the life of the child. My children, and all who know me, can bear witness that I have a custom of asking His blessing upon all I take in hand. I raised my eyes towards heaven, and muttered words; but, my lord, they were words of prayerand I looked up as I prayed, to the footstool of the Lord. But it is in vain to contend: the malice of the wicked will triumph, and Edith Holgrave, who even in thought never harmed one of God's creatures, must be sacrificed to cover the guilt, or hide the thoughtlessness of another."

"Prisoner," said the judge, "have you any witnesses to call on your behalf?"

"My lord, my daughter was present when I gave the medicine; but I seek no defence."

Margaret faintly answered to her name, and entered the box. She delivered her evidence with so much simplicity and meekness, that it seemed to carry conviction to the majority of the audience. In vain did the wily lawyer for the prosecution endeavour to weaken her testimony on her crossexamination. Truth, froin the lips of innocence, triumphed over the practised advocate, and Edith would probably have had a favourable verdict from an impartial jury and an upright judge; but from the present, she was to receive no mercy. The jury were bribed to convict, and the judge influenced to condemn. Skipwith now proceeded to sum up the evidence, artfully endeavouring to impress the jury with the strongest belief in the statement of the nurse, 66 who," he said, "could have no motive but that of bringing to justice the destroyer of her lord's heir;" and, on the other hand, insinuating, as he commented on Margaret's evidence, that her near relationship to the prisoner must be cautiously weighed but ere he had concluded, a sound at the entrance of the court attracted his attention. Horton, the tall and dignified abbot of Gloucester, with his mitre on his head, his staff in his hand, and clad in the robes of his order, (that of Saint Benedict,) entered the hall. His crosierer preceded him, bearing a massive golden cross; on his right and left hand walked two monks, and several others (among whom was father John) closed the procession.

:

A passage was instinctively made for the dignitary, who walked majestically on till he stood before the bench, and then pausing, he said in a clear firm voice

"My lord judge, I demand, in the name of holy church, and in the name of the gracious king Edward, that you deliver up this woman, Edith Holgrave, to me. A writ from the chancery, signed by the royal hand, commanding her delivery to the ecclesiastical power, has been sent down, and how is it that thus, in opposition to the church's prerogative, and the royal will, I see the woman standing a criminal at this bar?"

My lord abbot," replied Skipwith, bowing to the priest, "the writ you speak of has been recalled; a chancery messenger was here not three days

since."

"Did he not deliver to you the writ ?" interrupted the impetuous Hor

ton.

"Pardon me, my lord abbot, but I believe I have already said that the writ has been recalled. The messenger, indeed, came with a prohibitory writ respecting the prisoner; but when within a few miles of Gloucester,

a royal pursuivant, expressly from the king, overtook him, and to him the writ was delivered."

The calm dignity of Skipwith's reply produced some effect upon the abbot; for in a tone less abrupt than before, he replied

66

My lord judge, that writ of prohibition has not been recalled. This monk, pointing with his staff towards Father John, left London two days subsequent to the messenger, and there was not then the least intimation of the royal mind being changed."

"My lord," returned Skipwith, with a slight smile, "know you so little of Edward as to imagine that no change could pass in his royal mind without the monk being privy to it?"

"But," returned Horton, losing his temper at such skepticism, "this monk was lodged in the palace of his Grace of Canterbury; and, at the very hour of his departure, his grace spoke as if the surrender of the woman were already accomplished. Would he have spoken thus had the writ been recalled?"

"Probably his grace was ignorant that the prohibition was recalled?" "Simon Islip ignorant! However, you admit that a writ was sent ?" Skipwith bowed.

"Then as readily may you believe that it has been kept back through fraud and malice, and that you have brought this woman before a tribunal incompetent to judge of matters relating to witchcraft. But now, my lord judge, repair the wrong done, by delivering her up to a dignitary of holy church."

"Abbot Horton," returned the chief justice, gravely, "the poisoning has been satisfactorily proved, and a strong presumption of witchcraft created in my mind, from the mysterious behaviour of the prisoner when the drug was delivered to the nurse. But even were the witchcraft a more prominent feature of the case, I do consider the king's courts are empowered by the late act, which provides that all felonies may be heard and determined by the king's justices, to take cognizance of this crime. Witchcraft is a felony at common law."

"That act," replied Horton, hastily, "relates to local magistrates." "And are the judges of the land to be less privileged than petty magis

trates?"

"I came not to argue points of law, my lord judge," returned Horton, vehemently, "but to demand a right. Will you surrender this woman?" "My lord abbot," replied Skipwith, "the indictment has been read-the evidence has been gone through with the customary attention to justiceI have only to finish my charge to the jury, and it will remain with them to pronounce her guilt or innocence."

The cool and determined tone of the chief justice exasperated the abbot; and, fixing a stern glance upon the judge,

"It is not justice, Sir Robert Skipwith," said he, "to wrest the unfortunate from the merciful interposition of the church it is not justice, but a high contempt of supreme law, to set at naught the merciful commands of the sovereign it is not justice to usurp a power that belongs not to you, in order to crush a friendless woman-it is not justice to set the opinions of an individual against the sacred authority of God's church. The church alone, I repeat, has power to judge in cases where the soul is concerned, as in heresy and witchcraft."

His voice had risen with each pause in the period, till the last sentence was uttered in a tone that reverberated through the court. An instant of hushed silence followed, and then, to the surprise of all, Edith raised herself up as erect as her feebleness would allow, and resting one hand upon the bar, she raised the other towards the abbot, and said,

"My lord abbot, my soul is guiltless of any crime which the church in its

mercy absolves, or the law in its justice punishes - I am neither murderess nor witch. As much would my soul abhor communing with the spirits of darkness, as my heart would shrink from destroying the innocent

66

"Peace, woman!" interrupted the abbot: peace presume not to interfere." And then, turning to the judge, he added, "Sir Robert Skipwith, I again demand of you the custody of this woman.”

"Abbot Horton, you have had my answer," returned Skipwith, in a tone of perhaps still more vehemence than the abbot's.

The face of the provoked dignitary glowed, his eyes flashed, and he looked, in his glittering mitre and splendid vestments, like a being more than human, as, turning from the judge, and raising the staff he held in his right hand, he pointed it towards the assembled crowd, and said,

"I call upon this assembly to witness, that I have, in the name of holy church, demanded the accused that I have demanded her in the name of the king, by virtue of his royal writ of prohibition, which has been basely purloined - and that, unmindful of that divine power, and despite the king's express command, Judge Skipwith, the servant of the one, and an unworthy son of the other, has contemptuously refused this demand. But," he added fiercely, as he again turned towards Skipwith, and shook his staff at the no less irritated judge, "the royal ermine is disgraced on the shoulders of such as thee--beware that it is not speedily transferred to one more worthy to bear it. I say again, beware!"

The abbot then lowered his staff, the crosierer once more preceded him, and, followed by the monks, he proudly walked forth from the court, the people, as he passed, forming a passage, and humbly bending forward to receive his blessing.

The eyes of the spectators, which, during this strange scene- this trial of strength between the lay and ecclesiastical dignitaries - had alternately wandered to each, were now anxiously directed to Skipwith alone, who hastily concluded his charge, and turned to the jury, as the arbiters of Edith's fate. Calverley, among the rest, cast a look at the jury-box: and Black Jack, turning to his companions, proceeded, in the usual manner, to ask their opinions. Ten, after a minute's consultation, decided that the prisoner was guilty; but the eleventh, the stranger, who had endeavoured to screen himself from observation, and whose changing aspect and agitation had betrayed the deep interest he took in the trial, positively refused to return a verdict of guilty. Black Jack cast an intimidating glance on the non-content, but he heeded him not; and as the jury-box, exposed to the eyes of the whole court, was not a place for farther debate, the foreman declared, that as one of his brethren would not agree with the rest, they must withdraw.

When the jurors were closeted in their private room, Black Jack asked the galleyman the reasons of his refusal.

"There was no evidence toprove her guilt-I could not, on my conscience, say she was a murderess," returned the stranger, firmly.

"Conscience!" replied the foreman: "whoever heard a galleyman talk of conscience before? By the green wax! you forgot you had a conscience the day I first saw you. You recollect the court of pié-poudré, my conscientious dusty-foot, do n't you?"

"Master Oakley, the thing is quite different," replied the galleyman. "To cheat a fool of a piece of coin, is what neither you nor I would think much about but to rob a poor, helpless old woman of her life to hang

her up at a gallows, and then to bury her like a heathen, where four roads meet-no, no; that must not be."

The foreman's face assumed a deeper hue than usual; he looked fiercely at the galleyman, but there was a determination in his weather-beaten face that made him pause ere he spoke. Galleyman," he at length said, "you

knew the business before you came: if you be so fond of saving old witches' lives, why did n't you say so, that I might not now be in this dilemma ?" "You told me," returned the other, she was a witch, and that she had killed the child. Now I know she is not a witch; and neither you nor any one here believes a word of the poisoning."

"You heard what the judge said," returned Oakley: "but, however, you are a sworn juryman, and here you must remain till you've brought your mind to bear upon the point."

"Aye, aye," said Harvey; "four-and-twenty hours in this cold room, without meat or drink, will bring him to reason, I'll warrant you."

"Four-and-twenty days," said the stranger, in a voice so loud that the eleven started, "if I could live so long, shall never make me a murderer! No, no; you may go tell of the lushburgs, and hang me for a coiner," he said, starting suddenly up, and looking proudly at Black Jack; “but, by the holy well! you shall not make me hang the woman who nursed my mother, and prayed by her when every body else was afraid to go near her. She a witch!" he continued, with a bitter laugh- "by the holy well! if she had been so, she would n't have given the poor orphan a groat and a piece of bread, to come back, after ten years, to hang her at last! But this comes of carding and dicing, and sabbath-breaking. The fiend drives one on and on, till at last a man thinks nothing of murder itself."

"By the green wax! all this ranting is unprofitable. No one could call Black Jack an informer when his word was pledged," interrupted the fore

man.

"The affair of the lushburgs has passed away it shall rest so, though I might pocket some good pieces by a breach of faith, which, after this obstinacy, would not detract much from my honour. This woman is nothing to us, and surely the judge, who is paid to hang criminals, knows more about the guilt or innocence than I or my eleven. He told us, as plainly as man could speak, that she deserved to be hanged. But, remember, galleyman, neither you nor I break our fast till our opinions are unanimous ?" Black Jack winked at his companions, but the action was unnoticed by the stranger.

During this mock deliberation, Edith remained at the bar; but when the hour had passed away, and no probability appeared of an immediate verdict, she was directed by the judge to be taken back to prison until the jury had agreed.

It was nearly noon the next day, when the under-sheriff entered the rooin to ask if their opinions were yet unanimous. The galleyman still refused. "My friend," said Manlove; "it matters little now whether you agree with your brethren or not, the woman is at this moment dying! The verdict is, therefore, of little moment to her she can never be brought into court to receive judgment guilty or innocent, the law can have nothing to do with her; but I would advise you to look to yourself, you will not be released till she is dead. Your brethren are accustomed to fasting, but you look ready to drop from your seat: and, if the woman linger many hours, you will certainly be guilty of felo de se."

With a little more persuasion and the most solemn assurances that the verdict could not possibly affect Edith, the galleyman at length reluctantly consented to agree with the eleven, and the foreman gave in the verdict of guilty.

"Let the prisoner be brought up for judgment?" said Skipwith to the officer in waiting.

"It is impossible, my lord- the woman is dying!"

"Dying!" repeated the judge; "yesterday she spoke with the voice of one who had years to live. Perhaps she wishes to defer the sentence, which she well merits, by feigning illness. If she will not rise from her bed, bring her into court upon it!"

The officer departed, and shortly afterwards reappeared, and informed the judge that the Abbot of Gloucester was standing beside the prisoner, and threatened to excommunicate the first who presumed to remove her.

"Does he? Does he dare think to evade justice thus this subterfuge shall not avail!" exclaimed Skipwith with vehemence, and then musing an instant, he continued: "No, this subterfuge shall not avail- I will constitute the cell of the criminal a court of justice for this occasion. Officers of the court, proceed. I go to pronounce a just sentence:" and then, rising from the bench, and preceded by his officers, he departed to adopt the unprecedented course of passing sentence in a prison.

When the door of the dungeon was thrown open, Skipwith started at the unexpected sight he beheld; but, instantly recollecting himself, he walked on, determined to persevere. Edith was lying on her back, upon the mattress, her eyes half opened, and the ghastly seal of death impressed on every feature. Margaret and her husband were kneeling on one side, and the Abbot Horton and Father John standing on the other. A lighted taper and a box of chrism, which the monk held in his hand, told that the last sacrament of the church had been administered- -a sacrament that cannot be administered to a condemned criminal.

Holgrave suddenly rose from his knees and withdrew to the farthest corner of the cell. Margaret continued to kneel, and raised her burning eyes towards the judge with terrified astonishment.

The abbot turned pale with rage as he beheld the somewhat abashed Skipwith enter.

"What! impious man! Do you thirst so for innocent blood that you harass the last moments of the dying! Retire, or I curse thee-depart, ere I invoke Heaven's wrath on thine head!"

"Insolent priest !" returned Skipwith, in a suppressed tone, as his look wandered from the abbot to the distorted features of the departing, “I come, not as an individual to harass, but as a judge to fulfil the law."

He then put on the black cap, and slowly commenced the sentence. The life that seemed to have departed from the still and contracted form, rallied for a moment the eyes unclosed and fixed on the appalled countenance of Skipwith; and, when the concluding invocation of mercy for the soul of the criminal fell tremulously from the lips of the judge, she, in a voice low but distinct, answered "Amen!" and then a slight tremor and a faint gasp released the soul of Edith.

"The Lord will have mercy on her, vindictive judge," said the abbot, "though you had none; but she is now beyond your malice, and the glorified spirit will accuse you of this when

A wild shriek from Margaret, and a smothered groan from Holgrave, interrupted the abbot. The judge turned silently away, and left the dungeon; and, as there was now no prisoner to confine, the door was left open after him.

CHAPTER VI.

On the evening succeeding the day of Edith's decease, Black Jack's as. sociates were, as usual, squandering away their ill-gotten money at the Mitre. A ribald song was just concluded, when a loud knock at the door caught the attention of the foreman: the door was opened, and the galleyman entered. His countenance looked pale and haggard, and without speaking, he threw himself in a chair.

"What ails you, man?" inquired Black Jack "you look the worse for your long fast here, drink," handing him a full pitcher.