The cheek of the Lady Annabel became pale as death, and her eye grew bright with supernatural lustre. The hurried words of the scroll, written in the blood of the doomed man, the fearful request, the dark hints at the re-vivification of his mortal body, by the action of the water of life, all to be accomplished by the devotion of his daughter——flashed over her brain at the moment, when the gloom of the presence of the dead, darkened the joy of the living, and the Ladye turned to Adrian, and murmured with a whisper of hollow emphasis—
“The corse, Adrian, the corse of my father—where doth it rest?”
“It hath no place of repose on earth,” was the solemn answer. “Given to the invisible air, the mortal frame finds nor home, nor resting place in sacred chapel, or in wild wood glade; but mingled with the unseen winds, floating in the atmosphere of heaven; on, and on forever wanders the earthly dust of the Scholar, denied repose on earth, refused judgment by heaven, condemned to the eternal solitudes of the disembodied spirit; on, and on it wanders seeking companionship with the mighty soul of Aldarin!”
And a low and solemn voice, speaking from the invisible air, murmured the words—“It is finished,
IT IS FINISHED!”
FOOTNOTES:
[1] There have been one or two persons, who have made themselves merry with this passage. These persons, however, belong to that large class of literary pretenders who are always in the market, as the phrase goes, willing to edit anything, publish anything, take one side to day, another to morrow, for a little notoriety and a little bread. Their criticisms, do not demand an answer. You can have their good opinion for a dollar, and be adored by the whole tribe, for the gift of a dinner.
But, a word is due to the candid reader, in regard to the Doomsman’s description of Capital Punishment in the olden time. The author is not responsible for a single line, word, or comma. He has left a wretch, embrated, nay, demonized by spectacles of carnage, to describe the slow agonies of a horrible death, in his own way.
In the same manner, in another work, the author has introduced the Moloch of modern law,—the Hangman,—who but the cowardly instrument of a cowardly vengeance, puts a rope about his defenceless victim’s neck, and in a dark jail yard, chokes him slowly to death, while Ministers of Religion stand by, and approve the murder, with copious texts and learned references.
The author is no more responsible for the ravings of the Hangman, than he is for the ravings of the hireling critic.