Challoner, or to show that what had passed on that fatal day at Windlass Court had done aught than glance harmlessly aside; and so penetrated was even the light mind of Juliet Appleby by sorrow and remorse, that never to the latest day of her life did she either allude to the interview. Her lips had been sealed in too awful a

manner.

And Challoner, how did he feel? He had thought that nothing could ever cause him grief or happiness

more.

Perhaps he was right so far. It was not sorrow, and God forbid it was anything else with which he heard the terrible intelligence. A dumb amazement, an awe-stricken self-reproach overwhelmed him. He almost reeled beneath the shock.

He was free, but free by an intervention not to be thought of without a shudder.

He had not stirred hand or foot to free himself. He had meant, in his own stupid, sad, heartbroken fashion, to do his best by Mary Tufnell, to tear out of his remembrance all that was past, to give to her the future, to-to-and behold! the ravelled skein had been all at once taken out of his hands, and nothing was left him.

All he had now to do was done. He had to enter the darkened house, and walk by the side of the chief mourner, and feel the old man's trembling fingers within his arm, and have his cheek wetted by the mother's tear; and, pale and stern, they thought him crushed beneath his load, and hung about him tenderly, and ministered to him affectionately.

Every touch was a stab, every endearment a torture. He told himself that they, the kind, the good, the true, had got a very traitor in their midst; and for

every pang wherewith they credited Mary's lover, he suffered ten.

He knew not that he could have so suffered again.

"And dear Jem, what a pity that poor papa was never himself -never knew about you, and your sad loss, even at the last!"

These were the first words that greeted Challoner on his return to Paris.

"Poor papa died very quietly the night before last," proceeded the speaker, Lady Fairleigh. "He began to grow worse almost immediately after you had started, and we saw at once how it was going to be.

The doctors gave us no hope from the first; but I would not telegraph, as I knew you had enough to think about already, and you had promised to come back to us as soon as you could. really suffered no pain;" and she gave an account of the last hours.

He

"But why did you think it a pity he never knew about about me?" inquired her brother, after he had listened to a second repetition of the above. "I am glad he was spared the knowledge; it could have done no good, and would only have distressed him."

"But it would at least I am afraid it would-have been the better for you."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, Jem, when poor papa thought you were going to marry an heiress

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Oh, he has cut me off with a shilling, has he?"

"Not exactly that; there will be something, there will certainly be something, but I fear it will not be very much-not what you would have had if. You see I happened to be with him not long ago, at about the time your marriage was arranged, and he was very full of it, and of all that it

would do for you. He seemed to think that it would free himfrom providing for you as he should otherwise have done, and enable him to help Tom a little more; and you know poor Tom will need help with that large place to keep up, and all those children, and Eliza so expensively dressed, I'm sure I often wonder how they get on as well as they do. So papa said he meant to get round Mr Tufnell, and tell him plainly that all the money must be on his side-I mean with the exception of the allowance you have now; that is left you, I believe: but, of course, it is small enough; and I am afraid," continued Lady Fairleigh, reluctantly "I am afraid that papa actually did do as he projected, and altered his will in consequence. He never exactly told me what passed; and indeed I thought it best not to ask, for I own I did not like his doing it, but I gathered that he was immensely pleased with his interview; he said more than once that 'old Tufnell had behaved like a gentleman,' and I know he went to Turner and Wilson the very next day.

"Is that all?" said her brother, as if he had hardly heard a word.

"All! But, my dear Jem, don't you understand, there will really be nothing or next to nothing for you but what you have already? That, as you know very well, is a wretched allowance; but poor papa never could see that a younger son could have anything to spend upon. The only thing I can think of now"-and she hesitated" is if Tom and Will could be got to join

Nothing of the sort. I wouldn't take it from them."

"Well, perhaps it would be better not, but you will always come to me when you can, and I'm sure if I had anything of my ownoh, dear me, if poor papa could only have lived to know, it is so very sad, so very unfortunate

"Pooh! it does not signify a brass farthing!" said her brother, turning away with a frown.

Perhaps you will think he had his own resources; you may imagine that he contemplated an attempt at a reconciliation with Lady Matilda Wilmot? He did nothing of the kind. Such an idea never occurred to him. He knew her now, and he began to know himself. He was simply reckless. All that made life dear, and all that made it dread, alike were gone. He was free to fling himself away if he chose.

And he thought he would so choose.

ON several recent occasions much comment has been made regarding some points of English and Irish criminal procedure; and in the case of several of the trials for murder that have occurred in Ireland, some feeling has prevailed on those occasions when a trial had to be repeated, and in some instances repeated more than once. In such repetition there is obviously much that is bad. There is the loss of time, there is the risk of miscarriage, and there is the appearance of oppression. Though a judge be fully occupied, he has yet to find time for this needless extra work. A second, or it may be a third, jury have to give their services. The witnesses have to be kept together, or brought back; and there is the risk that some of them may die, or go abroad, or be tampered with; while it is always possible that persons may be suborned to meet the case on which the prosecution relies, and to shake its credibility on those points where at the previous trial its weakness had been exposed. And it is not to be forgotten that as in general the accused is a poor man, he may be unable to supply the funds requisite to do justice to his defence, and may thus be convicted where the case is critical because of his poverty and not because of his guilt. In this there is real oppression. But there is also the semblance of further hardship: for, though a man's reason may tell him that the repetition of a trial is but justice seeking a definite award, it is difficult for him not to feel that there is something almost of vindictiveness, and certainly of extra punishment, in forcing an

unhappy prisoner again and again to undergo the agonising ordeal of a trial.

It is important, therefore, to consider whether for this evil there is no remedy. Now in Scotland the evil cannot occur; and it may be questioned whether it would not be well to extend to the sister countries the rule of procedure in this matter that prevails in it. It seems undesirable that a prisoner's risk should be different on one side of the Tweed from what it is on the other; and, while assimilation in the less important details of the two systems might be only a piece of Procrustean pedantry, it surely must be conceded that the broad general principles which actuate and regulate their criminal procedure ought to be as impartially alike as can conveniently be attained.

The material points in which the procedure of the two countries differs are three in number. In Scotland no common law, and few important statutory, crimes can be prosecuted, except at the instance or with the sanction of the public prosecutor. In the second place, the examination of the prisoner, and the precognition or preliminary examination of the witnesses, takes place in private and separately. And thirdly, the jury can return their verdict by a majority.

Before offering any observations on these three points, it will probably conduce to the formation of an intelligent opinion in regard to them, if the outline of a Scotch criminal investigation be shortly given.

If the offence for which the prisoner has been arrested be unimportant, it is disposed of as early

as possible by a Sheriff, a Justice of the Peace, or a Burgh Magistrate. But if the "information" (i.e., the written précis, furnished by the police, of what such witnesses as are known of by them will say) discloses a case which the Procurator - Fiscal (i.e., the public prosecutor of the county or district) thinks may deserve to be tried by a jury, the following procedure takes place. The Fiscal presents a short petition to the Sheriff narrating the offence with which the prisoner is charged, and asking the Court to grant warrant to have the accused brought before it, and for the subsequent precognition or private examination of the witnesses. The prisoner is then brought before the Sheriff; the petition is read over, and the crime explained to him; he is told that he is entitled, but not bound, to make any statement he chooses, and warned that if he does, it may, and probably will, be used as evidence against him. In most instances a statement is made which is generally more or less false. If the prisoner declines to say anything, no questions are asked. But if he offers a statement, the Sheriff has it taken down, and, glancing over the "information," to see what the witnesses are to say against the prisoner, interrogates him in regard to these matters. The statement made by the prisoner is termed his "declaration," and is frequently a power for good or for evil to him. On the one hand, he may be able to furnish such explanations as will lead to his liberation in a few hours; while on the other, if on being asked where he was at the time when the crime was committed he is unable to say, or makes some allegation which is afterwards at his trial proved to be false, the jury naturally think

there is some significant cause for such silence or falsehood.

At the close of his examination the prisoner is either liberated or remanded for a period not exceeding eight days. There are four instances which in practice are held to justify such a remand. Firstly, if he admits his guilt; secondly, if he declines to say anything, or makes a statement of an obviously suspicious character; thirdly, if the "information" laid before the Sheriff indicates the likelihood of his guilt; and fourthly, if the crime with which he is charged is so heinous that, if liberated, he would probably abscond. During the eight days of the remand, the Procurator-Fiscal and bis deputies and assistants precognosce the witnesses separately, one by one. In this precognition are included not only the witnesses for the Crown, but also such witnesses as the prisoner has given the names of when making his declaration; and every allegation he makes is carefully sifted and examined into. If the case is of serious importance or difficulty, the examination can be taken in presence of the Sheriff, but this is rarely necessary. If the witnesses decline to speak out, or are giving apparently untrustworthy statements, the presence of the Sheriff can be invoked; and if he think fit he can put them on oath. If the Fiscal, in the course of the precognition, is satisfied that there is plainly no case against the prisoner, he can set him at liberty. where his innocence is at all doubtful, the precognitions are laid before the Sheriff, who peruses them, along with the prisoner's declaration, and grants his warrant either for the liberation of the prisoner, or for his committal for trial or till liberated in due course of law. On such committal the accused receives a copy of the charge made against

But