Now two men kept guard in the room below. Their prisoner was getting strong, and more vigilance became advisable.
The night that this double guard was set upon her, Katharine could not sleep, for the two men conversed in low voices that penetrated to her chamber, and tortured every nerve in her body. What evil things were they saying in those muffled tones? Perhaps talking about her babe? What would they do with her in the end?
Dark ideas of the terrible truth came slowly over her. She was seized with an uncontrollable wish to hear what it was that kept her jailors in such close conversation.
Shivering with dread, yet filled with a sort of wild courage, she arose and crept from her room down-stairs. A door opened from the stairway into the kitchen—it was left slightly ajar—and through the crevice came a gleam of light from a candle that stood on the mantlepiece. Katharine sunk down on the lowest step and listened keenly.
"Yes," said one of the men, "it's a settled thing—they'll take her off in the morning. Tough, though, aint it."
"Does the old woman know it?"
"I reckon not; the constable says he can't find the heart to tell her till the last minute."
"What will they do with her in the end? Have you any idea?"
"Well, law's law, you know, and I calculate they'll hang the poor critter."