But why had not Smithers recourse to the leathern weapon as usual? why had he spared the poor hump-back on this occasion?
Gibbet himself marvelled that such forbearance should have been shown towards him, since he now comprehended but too well that his father was inexorable in his determination with regard to him.
The truth was that Smithers was so far struck by his son's appeal as to deem it of more serious import than any previously manifested aversion to his horrible calling; and he accordingly met it with a menace which he deemed to be more efficacious than the old discipline of the thong.
"Now, mind me," said the executioner, after a few moments' pause, "you needn't try any more of these snivelling antics: they won't succeed with me, I tell you before-hand. If you don't do as I order you, I'll hang you up to that beam as soon as yonder mouse in the noose on the mantel. So let one word be enough. Hark! there's seven o'clock: we've only just time to get a mouthful before we must be off."
Smithers proceeded down stairs, followed by Gibbet.
They entered a little parlour, where Katherine was preparing breakfast.
It being still dark, a candle stood on the table; and its light was reflected in the polished metal tea-pot, milk-jug, and sugar-basin. The table napkin was of dazzling whiteness: the knives and forks were bright as steel could be;—in a word, an air of exquisite neatness and cleanliness pervaded the board on which the morning's repast was spread.
Nor was this appearance confined to the table. The little room itself was a model of domestic propriety. Not a speck of dust was to be seen on the simple furniture, which was also disposed with taste: the windows were set off with a clean muslin curtain; and the mantel was covered with fancy ornaments all indicative of female industry.
Then Kate herself!—her appearance was in perfect keeping with that of the room which owed its cleanliness and air of simple comfort to her. A neat cap set off her chesnut hair, which was arranged in plain bands: her dark stuff gown was made high in the body and long in the skirt, but did not conceal the gracefulness of her slender form, nor altogether prevent a little foot in a neat shoe and a well-turned ankle in a lily-white cotton stocking from occasionally revealing themselves. Then her hands were so slightly brown, her fingers so taper, and her nails so carefully kept, that no one, to look at them, would conceive how much hard work Katherine was compelled to do.
Though so rigidly neat and clean, Kate had nothing of the coquette about her. She was as bashful and artless as a child; and, besides—whom had she, the executioner's acknowledged niece, to captivate?