There had been for him a terrible fascination in the gaunt thing that gave out the odor of new wood; a thing men had made with their own hands; a clumsy device to inflict a brutal death; a left-over from barbarism which denied every claim of civilization and Christianity!  Now, as the moon crept up from behind the distant hills, the black shadows retreated, and as he watched, timber by timber the gallows stood forth distinct in the soft clear light.  In a few hours, unless the governor interfered, he would pass through the door directly below his window.  He pictured the group of grave-faced nervous officials, he saw himself bound and blindfolded and helpless in their midst.

His fingers closed convulsively about the iron bars that guarded his window, but the feeling of horror that suddenly seized him was remote from self-pity.  He was thinking of Elizabeth.  What unspeakable wretchedness he had brought into her life, and he was still to bequeath her this squalid brutal death!  It was the crowning shame and misery to the long months of doubt and fearful suspense.

Up from the earth came the scent of living growing things.  The leaves of the great maples in the court-house grounds rustled in the spring breeze, there was the soft incessant hum of insect life, and over all the white wonderful moonlight.  But he had no part in this universal renewal—­he was to die his purposeless unheroic death in the morning.  For himself he could almost believe he no longer cared; he had fully accepted the idea.  He had even taken his farewell of the few in Mount Hope who had held steadfast in their friendship, and there only remained for him to die decently; to meet the inevitable with whatever courage there was in his soul.

He heard Brockett’s familar step and suddenly, intent and listening, he faced the door; but the deputy came slowly down the corridor and as he entered the cell, paused, and shook his head.

“No word yet, John,” he said regretfully.

“Is the train in?” asked North.

“Yes, Conklin went down to meet it.  He’s just back; I guess they’ll come on the ten-thirty.”

North again turned listlessly toward the window.

“I wouldn’t own myself beat yet, John!” said the deputy.

“I’ve gone down at every crisis!  I didn’t think the grand jury would indict me, I didn’t think I would be convicted at the trial!” He made a weary gesture.  “What right have I to think they will be able to influence the governor?”

There was a moment’s silence broken by the deputy.

“I’ll be outside, and if you want anything, let me know.”

It was the death-watch, and poor Brockett was to keep it.

North fell to pacing his narrow bounds.  Without, the wind had risen and presently there came the patter of rain on the roof.  Thick darkness again enveloped the jail yard; and the gallows—­his gallows—­was no longer visible.  For an hour or more the storm raged and then it passed as swiftly as it had gathered.  Once more he became aware of the incessant hum of the insect world, and the rustling of the great maples in the court-house grounds.