"Ay, indeed," answered Richard, heartily; "he is a most noble and generous gentleman—well-nigh as noble as him they will hang on Saturday"—he added bitterly to himself; "but my lot is cast, friend, and I may not change it."
"I am sorry to leave thee in such a mind," answered Mr. Cowth, with mock solemnity, "and I pray thee lay to heart my parting words. Forswear Square Toes; repent thee of Republicanism, and I'll stand godfather to thy new life! So go and get thee wisdom!" And the young fellow turned, laughing, back to his work, while Richard sadly retraced his steps to Mrs. Harrison's lodgings.
CHAPTER III.
THE END OF A REGICIDE.
"Sound, thou Trumpet of God, come forth, Great Cause, to array us,
King and leader appear, thy soldiers sorrowing seek thee."
CLOUGH, The Bothie.
A solid mass of people thronged the space where three roads met and Charing Cross once stood, and above the serried heads rose the black skeleton of the gallows and the executioner's fire crackled and leapt below. But the sight inspired little horror or pity in the throng: orange girls called their wares, squalid beggars beset beplumed gentlemen, burly ruffians shouldered back prim citizens in their broadcloth and silver buckles; the press, the smell, the noise of shouts and oaths and scraps of songs were much the same as had hailed the Second Charles's entry into London six months before; but the faces were changed, their coarse joviality was gone, and they were inflamed with the frenzy of the bull-fighter, the loathsome curiosity that will not miss one horrid detail, even if the gazer must trample down his own mother to get a better view of the butchery.
The shouts swelled into a deep roar of execration, as the sledge on which the prisoner lay bound neared the place of execution, and Richard Harrison, struggling to keep his place as close to the victim as he might, thought with grim bitterness of the day when this same mob, silent and cowed, had seen General Harrison ride back from the scaffold at Whitehall.
"The dastards dared not lift a finger then, though it was for their liberty we struck the blow. And this is the reward the people of England have reserved for their deliverers!" muttered Dick.
But no bitterness nor resentment darkened the prisoner's face, never had his glance been more serenely triumphant, and as he pressed nearer, Dick could catch above the yells and hootings, the rapturous words which he uttered, his hands and eyes raised to heaven.
"I bless the Lord," he said, "it's a day of joy for my soul. I do find so much of the joy of the Lord coming in, that I am carried far above the fear of death, going to receive that glorious crown which Christ hath prepared." And when one fellow cried out jeeringly, "Where is now your Good Old Cause?" he, with a cheerful smile, clapped his hand on his breast saying, "Here it is, and I am going to seal it with my blood."