physical suffering. His face greyed, and deep lines furrowed his brow.
Thus he marched on, mechanically, amid his marching escort, through the
murky, fog-laden night, taking no heed of the stir about them, for all
Weston Zoyland was aroused by now.

Ahead of them, and over to the east, the firing blazed and crackled,
volley upon volley, to tell them that already battle had been joined
in earnest. Monmouth's surprise had aborted, and it passed through
Wilding's mind that to a great extent he was to blame for this. But it
gave him little care.

At least his indiscretion had served the purpose of rescuing Ruth from
Lord Feversham's unclean clutches. For the rest, knowing that Monmouth's
army by far outnumbered Feversham's, he had no doubt that the advantage
must still lie with the Duke, in spite of Feversham's having been warned
in the eleventh hour.

Louder grew the sounds of battle. Above the din of firing a swelling
chorus rose upon the night, startling and weird in such a time and
place. Monmouth's pious infantry went into action singing hymns, and
Wentworth, impatient to be at his post, bade his men go faster.

The night was by now growing faintly luminous, and the deathly grey
light of approaching dawn hung in the mists upon the moor. Objects grew
visible in bulk at least, if not in form and shape, by the time the
little company had reached the end of Weston village and come upon
the deep mud dyke which had been Wentworth's objective--a ditch that
communicated with the great rhine that served the King's forces so well
on that night of Sedgemoor.

Within some twenty paces of this Wentworth called a halt, and would have
had Wilding's hands pinioned behind him, and his eyes blindfolded, but
that Wilding begged him this might not be done. Wentworth was, as we
know, impatient; and between impatience and kindliness, perhaps, he
acceded to Wilding's prayer.

He even hesitated a moment at the last. It was in his mind to speak some
word of comfort to the doomed man. Then a sudden volley, more terrific
than any that had preceded it, followed by hoarse cheering away to
eastward, quickened his impatience. He bade the sergeant lead Mr.
Wilding forward and stand him on the edge of the ditch. His object was
that thus the man's body would be disposed of without waste of time.
This Wilding realized, his soul rebelling against this fate which
had come upon him in the very hour when he most desired to live. Mad
thoughts of escap