“Nay,” interposeth the attorney generall, “your silence was the token of a malicious mind.”

“I had always understood,” answers father, “that silence stoode for consent,” which made sundrie smile.

The issue of the black day was aforehand fixed.  The jury retired and presentlie returned with a verdict of guilty; for they knew what the king’s grace would have ’em doe in that case....

And then came the frightful sentence....

They brought him back by water ...  The first thing I saw was the axe, turned with its edge towards him.

Some one laid a cold hand on mine arm; ’twas poor Patteson.  He sayth, “Bide your time, Mistress Meg; when he comes past, I’ll make a passage for ye.” ...

O, brother, brother, what ailed thee to refuse the oath?  I’ve taken it! ...  “Now, Mistress, now!” and flinging his arms right and left, made a breach, through which I darted, fearless of bills and halberds, and did cast mine arms about father’s neck.  He cries, “My Meg!” and hugs me to him as though our very souls shoulde grow together.  He sayth, “Bless thee, bless thee!  Kiss them alle for me thus and thus.” ...  Soe gave me back into Dancey’s arms, the guards about him alle weeping.

I did make a second rush, and agayn they had pitie on me and made pause while I hung upon his neck.  He whispered, “Meg, for Christ’s sake don’t unman me.  God’s blessing be with you,” he sayth with a last kiss, then adding, with a passionate upward regard, “The chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof!”

I look up, almost expecting a beautific vision, and when I turn about, he’s gone.

July 5,6.

Alle’s over now....  They’ve done theire worst, and yet I live.  Dr. Clement sayth he went up as blythe as a bridegroom, to be clothed upon with immortality.

July 19.

They have let us bury his poor mangled trunk; but as sure as there’s a sun in heaven, I’ll have his head!—­before another sun has risen, too.  If wise men won’t speed me, I’ll e’en content me with a fool.

July 20.

Quoth Patteson:  “Fool and fayr lady will cheat ’em yet.”

At the stairs lay a wherry with a couple of boatmen.  We went down the river quietlie enow—­nor lookt I up till aneath the bridge gate, when, casting up one fearsome look, I beheld the dark outline of the ghastly yet precious relic; and falling into a tremour, did wring my hands and exclaim, “Alas, alas!  That head hath lain full manie a time in my lap, woulde God it lay there now!” When o’ suddain, I saw the pole tremble and sway towardes me; and stretching forth my apron I did, in an extasy of gladness, pity, and horror, catch its burthen as it fell.

Patteson, shuddering, yet grinning, cries under his breath, “Managed I not well, mistress?  Let’s speed away with our theft, but I think not they’ll follow hard after us, for there are well-wishers on the bridge.  I’ll put ye into the boat and then say, ’God sped ye, lady, with your burthen.’”