On Saturday morning the little town of Carrick-on-Shannon again became quiet and, comparatively speaking, empty. The judges left it very early; most of the lawyers had taken wing and flown towards Sligo, seeking fresh quarries¹, on the previous evening. The jury were released, and had returned weary to their homes; the crowds of litigants² and witnesses who had filled the Record Court had also left on the Thursday evening; and now those who had been wanted in the criminal court were gone, and peace and quiet were restored. At eleven o’clock neither of the hotels were open; the waiters and servants who, during the last week had literally⁴ not known what a bed was, and who, during that week, had snatched their only disturbed naps before the kitchen fires, or under the kitchen dressers, were taking their sleep out for the past week. It was still raining hard, and the long, narrow, untidy street was still as dirty and disagreeable as ever; otherwise there was no resemblance in it to the street of the last few days. There was no crowd around the court house, nor policemen with cross chains on their caps, nor sheriffs’ servants with dirty, tawdry liveries. The assizes were over; and till next July — when the judges, barristers, jury, &c., would all return, Carrick was doomed⁵ to fall back to its usual insignificance⁷ as a most uninteresting county town.

As Father John left the town on the previous evening, he sent word up to the governor of the gaol⁸ that he would see young Macdermot early on the following morning. He did not go home to the Cottage, but again passed the night at Mr. McKeon’s, at Drumsna; and a most sad and melancholy⁹ night it was. After witnessing Feemy’s death, and seeing that the body had been decently and properly disposed, Mrs. McKeon had returned home, and her husband had found her quite ill from the effects of the scene she had gone through.

Soon after the two men had made their apology for a dinner, Mr. Webb, who had had the verdict brought to his own house, called, and the three sat for some time talking over what possible means there might be still left for saving the young man’s life. It was at last agreed that Webb should go up to Dublin on the morrow, and make what interest he could to see the Lord–Lieutenant himself, as well as the Under Secretary; and endeavour, by every means in his power, to obtain a pardon.

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