hum grew, as the time drew near, so loud, that those who were at the
windows could not hear the church-clock strike, though it was close at
hand. Nor had they any need to hear it, either, for they could see it
in the people's faces. So surely as another quarter chimed, there was
a movement in the crowd--as if something had passed over it--as if the
light upon them had been changed--in which the fact was readable as on a
brazen dial, figured by a giant's hand.

Three quarters past eleven! The murmur now was deafening, yet every man
seemed mute. Look where you would among the crowd, you saw strained eyes
and lips compressed; it would have been difficult for the most vigilant
observer to point this way or that, and say that yonder man had cried
out. It were as easy to detect the motion of lips in a sea-shell.

Three quarters past eleven! Many spectators who had retired from the
windows, came back refreshed, as though their watch had just begun.
Those who had fallen asleep, roused themselves; and every person in the
crowd made one last effort to better his position--which caused a press
against the sturdy barriers that made them bend and yield like twigs.
The officers, who until now had kept together, fell into their several
positions, and gave the words of command. Swords were drawn, muskets
shouldered, and the bright steel winding its way among the crowd,
gleamed and glittered in the sun like a river. Along this shining path,
two men came hurrying on, leading a horse, which was speedily harnessed
to the cart at the prison-door. Then, a profound silence replaced the
tumult that had so long been gathering, and a breathless pause ensued.
Every window was now choked up with heads; the house-tops teemed with
people--clinging to chimneys, peering over gable-ends, and holding on
where the sudden loosening of any brick or stone would dash them down
into the street. The church tower, the church roof, the church yard,
the prison leads, the very water-spouts and lampposts--every inch of
room--swarmed with human life.

At the first stroke of twelve the prison-bell began to toll. Then the
roar--mingled now with cries of 'Hats off!' and 'Poor fellows!' and,
from some specks in the great concourse, with a shriek or groan--burst
forth again. It was terrible to see--if any one in that distraction of
excitement could have seen--the world of eager eyes, all strained upon
the scaffold and the beam.

The hollow murmuring was heard within