It was not for any plot that
she was to die: she professed again, kissing her Bible as she did so,
that she was utterly guiltless of any plot against her sister. She died
because she was of that Faith in which she had been born, and which
Elizabeth had repudiated. As for death, she did not fear it; she had
looked for it during all the eighteen years of her imprisonment.
It was at a martyrdom, then, that he was to assist.... He had known
that, without a doubt, ever since the day that Mary had declared her
innocence at Chartley. There had been no possibility of thinking
otherwise; and, as he reflected on this, he remembered that he, too, was
guilty of the same crime;... and he wondered whether he, too, would die
as manfully, if the need for it ever came.
* * * * *
Then, in an instant, he was called back, by the sudden crash of horns
and drums playing all together. He saw again the ranks of heads before
him: the great arched windows of the hall on the other side of the
court, the grim dominating keep, and the merciless February morning sky
over all.
It was impossible to tell what was going on.
On all sides of him men jostled and murmured aloud. One said, "She is
coming down"; another, "It is all over"; another, "They have awakened
her." "What is it? what is it?" whispered Robin to the air, watching
waves of movement pass over the serried heads before him. The lights
were still burning here and there in the windows, and the tall panes of
the hall were all aglow, as if a great fire burned within.
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