nd the words, "He is asleep at last," were plainly
audible, after which the door closed, and all was still.

The solemn awe which great illness inspires was felt in all its force by
the old man, as he sat like one spell-bound, and unable to depart. The
labouring respiration that seemed to bode the ebb of life, made his own
strong heart tremble, for he thought how, in his last hours, he might
have wronged him. "Oh! if I have been unjust--if I have followed him
to the last with ungenerous doubt--forgive me, Heaven; even now my own
heart is half my accuser;" and his lips murmured a deep and fervent
prayer, for that merciful benevolence, which, in his frail nature, he
denied to another. He arose from his knees with a spirit calmed, and a
courage stronger, and was about to retire, when a sudden cry from the
sick room arrested his steps. It was followed by another more shrill and
piercing still, and then a horrid burst of frantic laughter: dreadful
as the anguish-wrung notes of suffering--how little do they seem in
comparison, with the sounds of mirth from the lips of madness!

"There--there," cried a voice, he at once knew as Hemsworth's--"that's
him, that's your prisoner--make sure of him now; remember your orders,
men!--do you hear; if they attempt a rescue, load with ball, and fire
low--mind that, fire low. Ah! you are pale enough now;" and again the
savage laughter rung out. "Yes, madam," continued he, in a tone of
insolent sarcasm, "every respect shall be shown him--a chair in the
dock--a carpet on the gallows. You shall wear mourning for him--all the
honeymoon, if you fancy it. Yes," screamed he, in a wild and frantic
voice, "this is like revenge! You struck me once--you called me coarse
plebeian, too! We shall be able to see the blood you are proud of--aye,
the blood! the blood!"--and then, as if worn out by exhaustion, he
heaved a heavy sigh, and fell into deep moaning as before.

Sir Archy, who felt in the scene a direct acknowledgment of his appeal
to Heaven, drew closer to the window, and listened. Gradually, and like
one awaking from a heavy slumber, the sick man stretched his limbs, and
drew a long sigh, whose groaning accent spoke of great debility and
then, starting up in his bed, shouted-- "It is, it is the King's
warrant--who dares to oppose it. Ride in faster, men--faster; keep
together here, the west side of the mountain. There--there, yonder, near
the beach. Who was that spoke of pardon? Never; if he res