Butler stood a moment with his hand pressed upon his brow, and then muttered,
"It is even so; our unhappy country is lost, and the reign of blood is but begun. I would ask the poor favor of a moment's delay, and the privilege of pen, ink, and paper, whilst I write but a line to a friend."
"Impossible, sir," said the man. "Time is precious, and our orders are positive."
"This is like the rest," answered Butler; "I submit." Then buttoning his coat across his breast, he left the room with a firm and composed step.
When he reached the door the first person who met his eye was Captain St. Jermyn. There was an expression of formal gravity in the manner of this officer, as he accosted the prisoner, and lamented the rigor of the fate that awaited him. And it was somewhat with a cold and polite civility that he communicated his readiness to attend to any request which Butler, in his last moments, might wish to have performed.
Butler thanked him for his solicitude, and then said, "I asked permission to write to a friend; that has been denied. I feel reluctant to expose myself to another refusal. You have taken a slight interest in my sufferings, and I will, therefore, confide to you a simple wish, which it will not cost my persecutors much to gratify. It is that I may be taken to my grave, dressed as you see me now. I would not have my person stripped or plundered."
"If you have valuables about you, sir, trust them to my keeping; I promise you they shall be faithfully delivered according to your wish."
"What money there is about my person," replied Butler, "may be given to the soldiers who are compelled to execute this harsh and unjust sentence on my person; but I have a trinket," he said, drawing from his bosom a miniature, which was suspended by a ribbon, "it is the gift of one,"—here, for the first time, a tear started into Butler's eye, and his power of utterance failed him.
"I understand, sir," said St. Jermyn, eagerly reaching out his hand to take the picture, "I will seek the lady, at whatever hazard"—
"No," answered the unfortunate officer, "it must be buried with me. It has dwelt here," he added with emotion, as he placed his hand upon his heart, "and here it must sleep in death."