CHAPTER XXI.

SHOWING HOW DAME GIVES BECAME A WIDOW.

Careless did not lose sight of the prisoner until he had seen him safely bestowed in Edgar's Tower. With the strictest injunctions to watch carefully over him, he then committed him to the custody of Martin Vosper, who, it may be remembered, was one of the party that bivouacked on Pitchcroft on the night of the Grand Muster. Vosper had since been promoted to the rank of lieutenant. Placed in the strong room in which Dr. Crosby had been confined by Colonel James, Urso immediately threw himself upon the pallet that formed part of the scanty furniture, and, being greatly fatigued, soon fell asleep. But his slumber was disturbed by fearful dreams, and his broken exclamations seemed to have reference to some dark deed he had committed. These muttered words attracted the attention of Lieutenant Vosper, who remained with him in the chamber. From the first Vosper had been struck with the prisoner's resemblance to the spy whom he and Trubshaw--now a corporal--had pursued, and he now felt sure he was the same individual.

While the wretched sleeper was muttering some incoherent words, but amidst which the name "Wicked Will" was plainly to be distinguished, Vosper stepped up to the couch and shook him violently.

Thus roused, the guilty wretch started up, looking the picture of horror and despair. His hue was death-like, his eyes stared wildly, and cold drops gathered thickly upon his brow.

"Lighten your breast of its heavy load," said Vosper. "When you played the spy on me and my comrades at Pitchcroft, you cried out in a solemn voice that Wicked Will's death was a judgment. But you neglected to tell us who was the instrument of the judgment. Supply the information now. Who drowned him in the Severn?"

"Not I," replied Urso, shuddering. "If I have talked in my sleep, as I do sometimes, my words must not be taken against me."

"Die not with a lie on thy lips," said Vosper. "Since thou art certain to be hanged, give yourself a chance hereafter, by confession and repentance."

"I will not confess my transgressions to thee," rejoined Urso. "If I may have some godly man to pray with me, I will lay bare my breast to him. I would fain see the Reverend Laban Foxe, who hath known me long and well."

"And needs not to be told of thine iniquities, I'll be sworn," said Vosper. "I know the Reverend Laban, and a cunning old fox he is--his name suits him perfectly."

"A sorry jest, and ill-timed," said Urso. "Shall I see him?"

"Content thee--thou shalt."

"I thank thee," replied Urso. "In return, I will tell thee how Captain Hodgkins perished. Though I hated him as a bloodthirsty and wicked malignant, I did not compass his destruction. One evening, about dusk, he was staggering along the bank of the Severn, raging and roaring from strong drink, when he fell into the river."

"Wretch! you pushed him in," said Vosper, sternly.

"No," rejoined Urso. "It happened as I have said. I was standing by, and could have saved him had I stretched out my hand. But I hated him, and let him drown. Ah! I shall never forget his agonised, imploring looks, for the cold water had sobered him. I can see him now," he added, covering his eyes, as if to exclude some terrible object.

"With such a crime on thy conscience, no wonder thou canst not sleep soundly," said Vosper, regarding him with mingled pity and abhorrence.

"Thou sayst truly," rejoined the wretched man. "Since that night I have not been able to lay me down in peace. But I shall soon sleep the quiet and unbroken sleep of death."

"Hast thou aught more to tell me?" asked Vosper, after a pause.

"Ay, I will tell thee of another matter, though I feel no remorse for it," rejoined Urso. "Not many days ago I laid an ambush for thy king on one of the Malvern Hills, which he was foolish enough to ascend in company with Major Careless, whom I bitterly hate. Had I captured Charles Stuart, as I hoped to do, I should not be a prisoner here; and, better than all, I should have been avenged of Careless."

"I heard of his majesty's providential escape," said Vosper. "But I knew not that thou wert the contriver of the ambuscade."

"I can talk no more," said Urso. "I pray thee fulfil thy promise to let me see the godly man I have named."

Lieutenant Vosper immediately opened the door, and conferred for a moment with Corporal Trubshaw, who was standing outside.

This done, he re-entered the room.

Nearly an hour, however, elapsed before the corporal appeared with the Independent minister, and during this interval Urso turned his face to the wall, and maintained a profound silence, which Vosper did not care to interrupt.

The Reverend Laban Foxe was a sour-visaged old man. He wore a tall steeple-crowned hat and a long black cloak, but his attire had nothing of the divine about it.

He seemed much moved on beholding Urso, who rose from the pallet on his entrance, and a sad greeting took place between them.

The minister prayed to be left alone with the prisoner. Vosper assented and withdrew, but after awhile, thinking time enough had been allowed, he returned, and found Urso listening to the words of consolation addressed to him.

He therefore again retired, but returning after another long interval, and finding the exhortation still going on, he deemed it necessary to interrupt it.

"Since you sincerely repent of your sins, my son, I need say no more," observed the minister. "Bear your cross with resignation. Godly sorrow, like yours, worketh repentance to salvation." After a moment's pause he added, "But have you no message for your wife?"

"May I not see her?" cried Urso, casting an imploring look at Vosper, who made no reply.

"Alas! she cannot come to you, my son, even were she permitted," interposed the minister. "Her wound is not dangerous, but she has not strength for the painful interview."

"'Tis better thus!" exclaimed Urso, in a voice that betrayed profound emotion. "The parting with her would be a greater pang than death itself. Bid her an eternal farewell from me, and say to her----"

And he stopped.

"What must I add, my son?" inquired the minister.

"Say that I have left her a good legacy," rejoined Urso.

"Know you not that any money you may have bequeathed her will be forfeited?" remarked Vosper.

"Forfeited to whom?" demanded the prisoner.

"To whom should it be forfeited except to the king?" rejoined Vosper.

"I am easy on that score," said Urso. "Charles Stuart will not keep this money from her. The provision I have made is secure. Tell her so," he added to the minister. "She may not understand my meaning now, but she will understand it hereafter."

"Your words shall be faithfully repeated," said the Reverend Laban. "Farewell, my son!"

And with an earnest look at the prisoner, he departed.

When the hour fixed for the execution approached, a strong mounted guard was drawn up in front of the beautiful old gateway. Without a moment's delay, the prisoner was brought forth by Lieutenant Vosper, Corporal Trubshaw, and a party of halberdiers, who marched on either side of him.

Urso was bareheaded, his hands tied behind him, and a rope coiled round his neck. Before him walked the hangman--a caitiff apparently chosen for the revolting office from his savage and repulsive looks. The mounted guard, previously mentioned, rode on in front to clear the way.

As the cortége passed slowly down Edgar-street and along Sidbury-street, Urso's appearance was everywhere greeted with yells and execrations, and if the infuriated concourse could have reached him, the hangman would have been spared a labour. Ever since it had become known that the night attack had been betrayed, the greatest indignation was manifested by the citizens, who demanded that the severest punishment should be inflicted on the traitor. Mere hanging was too good for him. They would have him drawn and quartered, and his head fixed on the Sidbury-gate, that Old Noll might see it.

Though Urso had nerved himself to the utmost, he was not equal to the terrible ordeal he was exposed to, and his agony during the march to the place of execution was far greater than that which he subsequently endured.

At length the Sidbury-gate was reached, and being taken inside the structure, he was for some minutes lost to sight.

The spectators awaited his reappearance with a fierce impatience, which they did not seek to control or disguise. The large area in front of the Sidbury-gate, which has been described as surrounded by the new fortifications, was crowded with soldiers; the ramparts of Fort Royal, the walls, the towers, were likewise thronged by soldiers. But there were hundreds, nay, thousands, of distant spectators of the tragic scene.

On the top of the Sidbury-gate a gallows had been reared. So lofty was it, that it could be seen from most parts of the city, while it formed a conspicuous object to the enemy on the heights.

Towards this extraordinary gallows every eye was now directed. Deep silence pervaded the vast assemblage.

At length the hangman came forth, and, climbing the long ladder quickly, seated himself astride on the transverse bar of the gallows, and proceeded deliberately to fasten the fatal rope to it.

While he was thus occupied, the prisoner appeared, still guarded by Lieutenant Vosper, Trubshaw, and the halberdiers, and his appearance was the signal for a renewal of the terrible outcries that had before assailed him. He bore them undauntedly, continuing perfectly motionless, until the executioner called out from above that all was ready. He then sprang quickly up the ladder, as if eager to meet his doom.

In another minute all was over, and his body swinging in mid air; while a universal groan--though not a groan of pity--burst from the spectators.

Thus died the traitor Gives, whose name is still execrated in faithful Worcester.

At the moment when Urso was launched into eternity, the discharge of a cannon from Fort Royal informed Cromwell that the spy he had employed had been punished with death.

Cromwell, who was with Lilburn and Lord Grey of Groby on Perry Wood at the time, could not control his rage.

"The man's execution is justified by the laws of war," he said; "but it shall cost the citizens of Worcester dear. The great service he rendered us last night shall be requited as he desired. His widow shall have the reward I intended for him."

"How much is it to be?" asked Lord Grey.

"Two hundred pounds, and a pension of two hundred a year," replied Cromwell.

"A good reward, in sooth," said Lord Grey. "She will be well consoled for his loss."