IS AT HAND

TIRED of dicing against myself, and of the books that Rolfe had sent
me, I betook myself to the gaol window, and, leaning against the bars,
looked out in search of entertainment. The nearest if not the merriest
thing the prospect had to offer was the pillory. It was built so tall
that it was but little lower than the low upper story of the gaol, and
it faced my window at so short a distance that I could hear the long,
whistling breath of the wretch who happened to occupy it. It was not a
pleasant sound; neither was a livid face, new branded on the cheek with
a great R, and with a trickle of dark blood from the mutilated ears
staining the board in which the head was immovably fixed, a pleasant
sight. A little to one side was the whipping post: a woman had been
whipped that morning, and her cries had tainted the air even more
effectually than had the decayed matter with which certain small devils
had pelted the runaway in the pillory. I looked away from the poor rogue
below me into the clear, hard brightness of the March day, and was most
heartily weary of the bars between me and it. The wind blew keenly; the
sky was blue as blue could be, and the river a great ribbon of azure
sewn with diamonds. All colors were vivid and all distances near. There
was no haze over the forest; brown and bare it struck the cloudless
blue. The marsh was emerald, the green of the pines deep and rich, the
budding maples redder than coral. The church, with the low green graves
around it, appeared not a stone's throw away, and the voices of the
children up and down the street sounded clearly, as though they played
in the brown square below me. When the drum beat for the nooning the
roll was close in my ears. The world looked so bright and keen that it
seemed new made, and the brilliant sunshine and the cold wind stirred
the blood like wine.

Now and then men and women passed through the square below. Well-nigh
all glanced up at the window, and their eyes were friendly. It was
known now that Buckingham was paramount at home, and my Lord Carnal's
following in Virginia was much decayed. Young Hamor strode by, bravely
dressed and whistling cheerily, and doffed a hat with a most noble
broken feather. "We're going to bait a bear below the fort!" he called.
"Sorry you'll miss the sport! There will be all the world--and my Lord
Carnal." He whistled himself away, and presently there came along
Master Edward Sharpless. He stopped and stare