She noted the hawthorn in the hedges, the dew upon the turf; the tall mawkin swaying in the wind in the middle of a newly sown field; and, as her lids raised, the mustering crowds, all with steps bent, and greedy eyes fixed, yonder to the hill-top where the gibbet stood, and where the new rope dangled for her neck.
Yet she made no sign.
Not even when she heard the rabble laying their groats and sixpences, that Kidde would, or wouldn’t “die game.”
XII
Rehearseth how, in the very nick o’ time,
Her Ladyship’s neck is saved from
the noose by Sir Percy.