Chapter XXIV

On life's wide sea, when tempests gathering dark
Pour the fierce billow on the shatter'd bark,
The surge may break, the warring winds may rave,
'Tis God controls the vengeance of the wave;
And those who trust in his Almighty arm
No storm shall vex, nor hurricane alarm;
He is their stay when earthly hope is lost,
The light and anchor of the tempest-tost!--S.M.

At an early hour next morning every avenue and street leading to the place of execution was thronged with human beings, all anxious to behold an erring fellow-creature suffer the punishment due to the enormous crime of which he had been found guilty. The rush of the gathering multitude was like the roaring of a troubled sea, when the waters foam and chafe, and find no rest for their tumultuous heavings. Intense curiosity was depicted on every countenance, and each man strained his neck eagerly forward to catch a glance of the monster who had murdered his own father.

And there was one among that mass of living heads the most anxious, the most eager of all. This was Godfrey Hurdlestone, who could not believe his victim sure until he saw him die.

"Why, Squire," whispered a voice near him, "I did not expect to see you here. Are you not satisfied that he is condemned?"

"No, Bill," responded the murderer. "I must see him die. Then, and not till then, shall I believe myself secure."

"What has become of Mary?" again whispered his companion in guilt.

Godfrey's hardened face became livid. "She was lying speechless, given over by the physicians, at Captain Whitmore's, three days ago. Curse her! I have no doubt that she meant to betray us."

"I wish I had throttled her the night she described the scene of the murder! But mum; here comes the prisoner. By Jove! how well he looks! how bravely he bears up against his fate! Does not the sight of that proud pale face make you feel rather queerish?"

"Away with your scruples; his death makes rich men of us."

The prisoner ascended the platform, supported by Frederic Wildegrave and the good chaplain. A breathless pause succeeded, and he became the central point to which all eyes were directed. His hat was off, and the expression of his face was calm and resigned; the dignity of conscious innocence was there. He turned his fine dark eyes with a pitying glance on the upturned faces of the gazing crowd; the hisses and groans with which they had greeted his first appearance were hushed; a death-like stillness fell upon that vast assemblage, and many a rugged cheek was moistened with tears of genuine compassion.

"Hark, he is about to speak! Is it to confess his crime?"

In deep clear tones he addressed the multitude. "Fellow-men, you are assembled here this day to see me die. You believe me guilty of a dreadful crime; the most dreadful crime that a human creature can commit--the murder of a parent. Here, before you all, and in the presence of Almighty God, I declare my innocence. I neither committed the murder nor am I acquainted with the perpetrators of the deed. God will one day prove the truth of my words. To Him I leave the vindication of my cause; He will clear from my memory this infamous stain. Farewell!"

"He cannot be guilty!" exclaimed some.

"The hardened wretch!" cried others. "To take God's name in vain, and die with a lie upon his lips."

The prisoner now resigned himself to the hangman's grasp; but whilst the fatal noose was adjusting, a cry--a wild, loud, startling cry--broke upon the crowd, rising high into the air and heard above all other sounds. Again and again it burst forth, until it seemed to embody itself into intelligible words; "Stop! stop!" it cried, "stop the execution! He is innocent! he is innocent!"

The crowd caught up the cry; and "He is innocent! he is innocent!" passed from man to man. A young female was now seen forcing a passage through the dense mass. The interest became intense; every one drew closer to his neighbor, to make way for the bearer of unexpected tidings, who, arriving within a few yards of the scaffold, again called out in shrill tones, which found an echo in every benevolent heart--"Godfrey Hurdlestone and William Mathews are the real murderers. I heard them form the plot. I saw the deed done!"

"Damnation!--we are betrayed!" whispered Godfrey to his colleague in crime, as they fled from the scene.

All was now uproar and confusion. The sheriff and his officers at length succeeded in quieting the excited populace, and removed the prisoner once more to his cell.

"I trust, my son, that the bitterness of death is past," said the chaplain, who accompanied him hither. "The God in whom you trusted has been strong to save."

"And where, where is my preserver?" asked Anthony, rising from his knees, after returning humble and heartfelt thanks to God for his preservation.

"She is here," said Mary, kneeling at his feet. "Here to bless and thank you for all your unremitted kindness to a wretch like me. Oh! I feared that I should be too late; that all would be over before my feeble limbs would bring me to the spot. I have been ill, Mr. Anthony, dreadfully ill; I couldn't speak to tell them that you were innocent; but it lay upon my heart day by day, and it burnt into my brain like fire. But they did not comprehend me; they could not understand my ravings. At last I stole from my bed, when they were all absent, and put on my clothes, and hurried out into the blessed air. The winds of heaven blew upon me and my reason returned; and God gave me strength, and brought me here in time to save your life. Yes, you are saved. Blessed be God's name for ever. You are saved, and by me!"

The poor girl, overcome by her feelings, burst into a fit of hysterical weeping, and suffered the chaplain to lead her from the cell and place her under the protection of the jailor's wife.