“I have already stated,” said she, “that I shall attend the trial; that ought, and must be, sufficient for you.  I beg, then, you will withdraw, sir.  My improved health will enable me to attend, and you may rest assured that if I have life I shall be there, as I have already told you; but, I say, that if you wish to press me for the nature of my evidence, you shall have it, and, as she spoke, her eyes flashed fearfully, as they were in the habit of doing whenever she felt deeply excited.  Folliard himself became apprehensive of the danger which might result from the discussion of any subject calculated to disturb her, and insisted that she should be allowed to take her own way.  In the meantime, after they had left her, at her own request, her father informed the attorney that she was getting both strong and cheerful, in spite of her looks.

“To be sure,” said he, “she is pale! but that’s only natural, after her recent slight attack, and all the excitement and agitation she has for some time past undergone.  She sings and plays now, although I have heard neither a song nor a tune from her for a long time past.  In the evening, too, she is exceedingly cheerful when we sit together in the drawing-room; and she often laughs more heartily than I ever knew her to do before in my life.  Now, do you think, Doldrum, if she was breaking her heart about Reilly that she would be in such spirits?”

“No, sir; she would be melancholy and silent, and would neither sing, nor laugh, nor play; at least I felt, so when I was in love with Miss Swithers, who kept me in a state of equilibrium for better than two years;—­but that wasn’t the worst of it, for she knocked the loyalty clean out of me besides—­indeed, so decidedly so that I never once sang ‘Lillibullero’ during the whole period of my attachment, and be hanged to her.”

“And what became of her?”

“Why, she married my clerk, who used to serve my love-letters upon her; and when I expected to come in by execution—­that is, by marriage—­that cursed little sheriff, Cupid, made a return of nulla bona.  She and Sam Snivel—­a kind of half Puritan—­entered a disappearance, and I never saw them since; but I am told they are in America.  From what you tell me, sir, I have no doubt but Miss Folliard will make a capital witness.  In fact, Reilly ought to feel proud of the honor of being hanged by her evidence; she will be a host in herself.”

We have already stated that the leading counsel against Reilly had succeeded in getting his trial postponed until Miss Folliard should arrive at a sufficient state of health to appear against him.  In the meantime, the baronet’s trial, which was in a political, indeed, we might say, a national point of view, of far more importance than Reilly’s, was to come on next day.  In the general extent of notoriety or fame, Reilly had got in advance—­though not much—­of his implacable rival.  The two trials were, in fact, so closely united by