I had expected it, yet it gave me a cold chill to hear the solemn words.
They led me away, through the surging crowd, out of the dim lighted court room, back to the gaol I had left not long ago. The other prisoners crowded about me, eager to learn the outcome of the trial, and to ascertain what chance they stood. I was too heart-sick to talk much, and merely told them that I had been convicted, and was sentenced to die.
Then I cast myself into a corner, to wait, for--I scarce knew what. But I reflected that he who gives up hope has little left, and, that though I had submitted quietly, so far, that was no reason why I should do so further. If they were minded to kill me, I thought, they could doubtless accomplish their purpose, but I resolved that I would make some suffer before I died. I would not go empty handed across to the other shore.
I had strength, beyond the power of most men, and I would use it when the time came. If I only had some one beside myself to fight for. If I only had the right to battle for Lucille, then I felt that I could do wonders. But my heart was not in it.
I determined, if no better chance offered, that I would go even to the scaffold, quietly. Then, when I stood bound, waiting for the drop to fall, I doubted not I could burst my bonds, seize a sword from a guard, and leap among the people. Then I could at least die fighting.
For I resolved I would not be swung off, like a pirate at the yardarm, if I was able to prevent it.
Several days passed. I partook heartily of the coarse food provided, for I knew I would need all of my strength to carry out my design. I endeavored to learn the date of my execution, but could not. All my questioning of the guards was turned aside.
It was rumored that the regular gallows was deemed too frail for a man of my strength, so they had gone to the work of making another machine. What kind it was I learned later. Existence in the gaol had come to be such a hell to me now, that I prayed the day of death might arrive speedily.
One morning, just a week after my arrest, I awoke with a start. Some one in the prison was singing, I could not catch all of the words, but the song was an old psalm tune, of the Lord, and of Isaac and of Jacob. I sat up on the narrow bench. Most of those poor wretches about me were still sleeping; breathing heavily. There was just the faintest gleam of daylight, as I could see through the high barred window. As I sat there a moment the sun rose, and the beams turned the iron bars above my head, into gleaming yellow gold.
There was the tramp of feet outside. The day of my death had dawned.