ature than with those upon the Oaks, Derby, and
St. Leger. To persons who are not aware of the brutalizing effect of
gambling upon the mind, this circumstance will be a matter of
astonishment; and even the more experienced can scarcely view with
indifference so gross an outrage on common decency."]

CHAPTER XXI.

Look!
I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit
The innocent mansion of my love--my heart:
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief.
_Cymbeline_, Act III.

Thus was Edward Walladmor, as we may now call him, restored to his
father and the castle of his ancestors as a prisoner under sentence of
death.[1]--This however was known only to Tom Godber, who had learned
it from an accidental oversight of his mother's during her frantic
exultations when alone with himself. The same spirit of fiendish
triumph had led her to make the discovery to the unhappy Sir Morgan
prematurely, and when there was still some chance of defeating her
final vengeance. But the _public_ discovery she had prevailed on
herself to delay until the day of execution.

This was now fast approaching; and no intentions had yet been
manifested on the part of government for granting a pardon or
mitigation of the sentence. Monday was now come; Wednesday was the day
originally appointed for the execution; and as yet no orders had
arrived to the contrary. Sir Morgan meanwhile was lying in a state of
alternate delirium and unconsciousness from the effects of a brain
fever which had seized him immediately after the dreadful revelation
made to him by Gillie Godber. And Sir Morgan's friends, though all
feeling great interest for the prisoner, and prepared to think it a
case of extreme harshness on the part of government if the sentence
should be enforced, were unacquainted with the dreadful secret of the
prisoner's relation to Sir Morgan; and had thus no motive, beyond
general pity, for showing any distrust of the royal mercy--by exerting
any special interest in the prisoner's behalf.

Meantime there were hearts that beat in trembling hope for Edward
Walladmor; hands were busy for him in silence; steps and whispering
sounds were moving in the darkness on his behalf. There had been time
for the news of his capture and too probable fate to reach the
Netherlands; and a ship of doubtful character, with a captain