CHAPTER XXIV.
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On life's wide sea, when tempests gathering dark Pour the fierce billow on the shatter'd bark, The surge may break, the warring winds may rave, 'Tis God controls the vengeance of the wave; And those who trust in his Almighty arm No storm shall vex, nor hurricane alarm; He is their stay when earthly hope is lost, The light and anchor of the tempest-tost!—S.M. |
At an early hour next morning every avenue and street leading to the place of execution was thronged with human beings, all anxious to behold an erring fellow-creature suffer the punishment due to the enormous crime of which he had been found guilty. The rush of the gathering multitude was like the roaring of a troubled sea, when the waters foam and chafe, and find no rest for their tumultuous heavings. Intense curiosity was depicted on every countenance, and each man strained his neck eagerly forward to catch a glance of the monster who had murdered his own father.
And there was one among that mass of living heads the most anxious, the most eager of all. This was Godfrey Hurdlestone, who could not believe his victim sure until he saw him die.
"Why, Squire," whispered a voice near him, "I did not expect to see you here. Are you not satisfied that he is condemned?"
"No, Bill," responded the murderer. "I must see him die. Then, and not till then, shall I believe myself secure."
"What has become of Mary?" again whispered his companion in guilt.
Godfrey's hardened face became livid. "She was lying speechless, given over by the physicians, at Captain Whitmore's, three days ago. Curse her! I have no doubt that she meant to betray us."