Keyes came next, and eyeing the assemblage disdainfully, went up the ladder, and threw himself off with such force that he broke the rope, and was instantly despatched by the executioner and his assistants.
Guy Fawkes now alone remained, and he slowly mounted the scaffold. His foot slipped on the blood-stained boards, and he would have fallen, if Topcliffe, who stood near him, had not caught his hand. A deep silence prevailed as he looked around, and uttered the following words in a clear and distinct voice:—
“I ask forgiveness of the King and the state for my criminal intention, and trust that my death will wash out my offence.”
He then crossed himself and knelt down to pray, after which his cloak and doublet were removed by the executioner's assistant and placed with those of the other conspirators. He made an effort to mount the ladder, but his stiffened limbs refused their office.
“Your courage fails you,” sneered Topcliffe, laying his hand upon his shoulder.
“My strength does,” replied Fawkes, sternly regarding him. “Help me up the ladder, and you shall see whether I am afraid to die.”
Seeing how matters stood, the executioner who stood by, leaning upon his chopper, tendered him his blood-stained hand. But Fawkes rejected it with disgust, and exerting all his strength, forced himself up the ladder.
As the hangman adjusted the rope, he observed a singular smile illumine the features of his victim.
“You seem happy,” he said.
“I am so,” replied Fawkes, earnestly,—"I see the form of her I loved beckoning me to unfading happiness.”