“‘The youth who is sentenced to die the day after the morrow.’
“'And who is he—in the d—l's name, I had almost said,' exclaimed his excellency, in wrathful amazement.
“‘He is the son of the Lord of Pavonia,’ replied she, hiding her face with her hands.
“‘And thou art married to that splutterkin?’
“‘Yes, father.’
“'Then I shall take care to unmarry thee—the knot the parson tied the hangman shall untie the day after the morrow, or I'm no governor. But who dared to marry thee against my will?'
“‘Dominie Curtenius.’
“'He did—then the dominie shall hang by the side of the splutterkin. Go to thy chamber, to thy bed, to thy grave, thou art no daughter of mine.'
“Poor Blandina crawled to her bed, and wept herself into a temporary forgetfulness. The next day she was so much worse, that the old nurse declared she would die before her husband. The governor kept up a good countenance, but his heart was sorely beset by pity and forgiveness, which both clung weeping about him. He went so far as to sound some of the council about pardoning the young man; but one of them, who was suspected of looking up to the fair Blandina, talked so eloquently about the safety of the city and the public good, that he was fain to hold his tongue, and shut himself up, for he could not bear to see his daughter.
“At length the day arrived, big with the fate of poor Blandina and her unhappy husband. She sent to her father for permission to see him before he died, but the governor, after a sore struggle, denied her request.