go with thee, even to the scaffold."

But Gloucester, true to his promise, came at length; he was evidently
anxious and disturbed, and a few hurried words told how the Earl of
Berwick had detained him in idle converse, as if determined to prevent
any private interview with the prisoner; even now the officers and
priests were advancing to the dungeons, their steps already reverberated
through the passages, and struck on the heart of Agnes as a bolt of ice.
"I had much, much I wished to say, but even had I time, what boots it
now? Nigel, worthy brother of him I so dearly loved, aye, even now would
die to serve, fear not for the treasure thou leavest to my care; as
there is a God above us, I will guard her as my sister! They
come--farewell, thou noble heart, thou wilt leave many a foe to mourn
thee!" The voice of the earl quivered with emotion. Nigel convulsively
pressed his extended hand, and then he folded Agnes in his arms; he
kissed her lips, her brow, her cheek, he parted those clustering curls
to look again and yet again upon her face--pale, rigid as sculptured
marble. She uttered no sound, she made no movement, but consciousness
had not departed; the words of Gloucester on the previous night rung in
her ears, demanding control, and mechanically she let her arms unloose
their convulsive grasp of Nigel, and permitted the earl gently to lead
her to the door, but ere it opened, she turned again to look on Nigel.
He stood, his hands clasped in that convulsive pressure of agony, his
every feature working with the mighty effort at control with the last
struggle of the mortal shell. With one faint yet thrilling cry she
bounded back, she threw herself upon his swelling bosom, her lips met
his in one last lingering kiss, and Gloucester tore her from his arms.
They passed the threshold, another minute and the officers, and guard,
and priest stood within the dungeon, and a harsh, rude voice bade the
confessor haste to shrive the prisoner, for the hour of execution was at
hand.

Bearing the slight form of the supposed page in his arms, Gloucester
hastily threaded the passages leading from the dungeon to the postern by
which he had intended to depart. His plan had been to rejoin his
attendants and turn his back upon the city of Berwick ere the execution
could take place; a plan which, from his detention, he already found was
futile. The postern was closed and secured, and he was compelled to
retrace his steps to a gate he had w