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298 himself at once the murderer and the judge of his son!

Minutes had elapsed since the voice of the Prisoner ceased; and Brandon now drew forth the black cap. As he placed it slowly over his brows, the increasing and corpselike whiteness of his face became more glaringly visible, by the contrast which this dread head-gear presented. Twice as he essayed to speak, his voice failed him, and an indistinct murmur came forth from his hueless lips, and died away like a fitful and feeble wind. But with the third effort, the resolution and long self-tyranny of the man conquered, and his voice went clear and unfaltering through the crowd, although the severe sweetness of its wonted tones was gone, and it sounded strange and hollow on the ears that drank it.

"Prisoner at the bar!—It has become my duty to announce to you the close of your mortal career. You have been accused of a daring robbery, and, after an impartial trial, a Jury of your countrymen, and the laws of your country, have decided against you. The recommendation to mercy—(here, only, throughout his speech, Brandon gasped