The troops had kept a large space clear around the gallows. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. I killed him, Nigel. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. . They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. We will find some way out of it. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six.
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