Hansford sat down, and Sir William Berkeley, flushed with indignation, replied,

"I had hoped that the near approach of death, if not a higher motive, would have saved us from such treasonable sentiments. But, sir, the insolence of your manner has checked any sympathy which I might have entertained for your early fate. I, therefore, have only to p.r.o.nounce the judgment of the court; that you be taken to the place whence you came, and there safely kept until to-morrow noon, when you will be taken, with a rope about your neck, to the common gallows, and there hung by the neck until you are dead. And may the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on your soul!"

"Amen!" was murmured, in sad whispers, by the hundreds of pale spectators who crowded around the unhappy prisoner.

"How is this!" cried Hansford, once more rising to his feet, with strong emotion. "Gentlemen, you are soldiers, as such I may claim you as brethren, as such you should be brave and generous men. On that generosity, in this hour of peril, I throw myself, and ask as a last indulgence, as a dying favour, that I may die the death of a soldier, and not of a felon."

"You have lived a traitor's, not a soldier's life," said Berkeley, in an insulting tone. "A soldier's life is devoted to his king and country; yours to a rebel and to treason. You shall die the death of a traitor."

"Well, then, I have done," said Hansford, with a sigh, "and must look to Him alone for mercy, who can make the felon's gallows as bright a pathway to happiness, as the field of glory."

Many a cheek flushed with indignation at the refusal of the governor to grant this last pet.i.tion of a brave man. A murmur of dissatisfaction arose from the crowd, and even some st.u.r.dy loyalists were heard to mutter, "shame." The other members of the court were seen to confer together, and to remonstrate with the governor.

"'Fore G.o.d, no," said Berkeley, in a whisper to his advisers. "Think of the precedent it will establish. Traitor he has lived, and as far as my voice can go, traitor he shall die. I suppose the sheep-killing hound, and the egg-sucking cur, will next whine out their request to be shot instead of hung."

So great was the influence of Berkeley, over the minds of the court, that, after a feeble remonstrance, the pet.i.tion of the prisoner was rejected. Old Beverley alone, was heard to mutter in the ear of Philip Ludwell, that it was a shame to deny a brave man a soldier's death, and doom him to a dog's fate.

"And for all this," he added, "its a d.a.m.ned hard lot, and blast me, but I think Hansford to be worth in bravery and virtue, fifty of that painted popinjay, Bernard, whose cruelty is as much beyond his years as his childish vanity is beneath them."

"Well, gentlemen, I trust you are now satisfied," said Berkeley.

"Sheriff, remove your prisoner, and," looking angrily around at the malecontents, "if necessary, summon an additional force to a.s.sist you."

The officer, however, deemed no such precaution necessary, and the hapless Hansford was conducted back to his cell under the same guard that brought him thence; there to await the execution on the morrow of the fearful sentence to which he had been condemned.

CHAPTER XLVI.

_Isabella._ "Yet show some pity.

_Angelo._ I show it most of all when I show justice."

_Measure for Measure._

That evening Sir William Berkeley was sitting in the private room at the tavern, which had been fitted up for his reception. He had strictly commanded his servants to deny admittance to any one who might wish to see him. The old man was tired of counsellors, advisers, and pet.i.tioners, who hara.s.sed him in their attempt to curb his impatient ire, and he was determined to act entirely for himself. He had thus been sitting for more than an hour, looking moodily into the fire, without even the officious Lady Frances to interfere with his reflections, when a servant in livery entered the room.

"If your Honour please," said the obsequious servitor, "there is a lady at the door who says she must see you on urgent business. I told her that you could not be seen, but she at last gave me this note, which she begged me to hand you."

Berkeley impatiently tore open the note and read as follows:-

"By his friendship for my father, and his former kindness to me, I ask for a brief interview with Sir William Berkeley.

"VIRGINIA TEMPLE."

"Fore G.o.d!" said the Governor, angrily, "they beset me with an importunity which makes me wretched. What the devil can the girl want!

Some favour for Bernard, I suppose. Well, any thing for a moment's respite from these troublesome rebels. Show her up, Dabney."

In another moment the door again opened, and Virginia Temple, pale and trembling, fell upon her knees before the Governor, and raised her soft, blue eyes to his face so imploringly, that the heart of the old man was moved to pity.

"Rise, my daughter," he said, tenderly; "tell me your cause of grief. It surely cannot be so deep as to bring you thus upon your knees to an old friend. Rise then, and tell me."

"Oh, thank you," she said, with a trembling voice, "I knew that you were kind, and would listen to my prayer."

"Well, Virginia," said the Governor, in the same mild tone, "let me hear your request? You know, we old servants of the king have not much time to spare at best, and these are busy times. Is your father well, and your good mother? Can I serve them in any thing?"

"They are both well and happy, nor do they need your aid," said Virginia; "but I, sir, oh! how can I speak. I have come from Windsor Hall to ask that you will be just and merciful. There is, sir, a brave man here in chains, who is doomed to die-to die to-morrow. Oh, Hansford, Hansford!" and unable longer to control her emotion, the poor, broken-hearted girl burst into an agony of tears.

Berkeley's brow clouded in an instant.

"And is it for that unhappy man, my poor girl, that you have come alone to sue?"

"I did not come alone," replied Virginia; "my father is with me, and will himself unite in my request."

"I will be most happy to see my old friend again, but I would that he came on some less hopeless errand. Major Hansford must die. The laws alike of his G.o.d and his country, which he has trampled regardless under foot, require the sacrifice of his blood."

"But, for the interposition of mercy," urged the poor girl, "the laws of G.o.d require the death of all-and the laws of his country have vested in you the right to arrest their rigour at your will. Oh, how much sweeter to be merciful than sternly just!"

"Nay, my poor girl," said Sir William, "you speak of what you cannot understand, and your own griefs have blinded your mind. Justice, Virginia, is mercy; for by punishing the offender it prevents the repet.i.tion of the offence. The vengeance of the law thus becomes the safeguard of society, and the sword of justice becomes the sceptre of righteousness."

"I cannot reason with you," returned Virginia. "You are a statesman, and I am but a poor, weak girl, ignorant of the ways of the world."

"And therefore you have come to advocate this suit instead of your father," said Berkeley, smiling. "I see through your little plot already. Come, tell me now, am I not right in my conjecture? Why have you come to urge the cause of Hansford, instead of your father?"

"Because," said Virginia, with charming simplicity, "we both thought, that as Sir William Berkeley had already decided upon the fate of this unhappy man, it would be easier to reach his heart, than to affect the mature decision of his judgment."

"You argued rightly, my dear girl," said Berkeley, touched by her frankness and simplicity, as well as by her tears. "But it is the hard fate of those in power to deny themselves often the luxury of mercy, while they tread onward in the rough but straight path of justice. It is ours to follow the stern maxim of our old friend Shakspeare:

'Mercy but murders, pardoning those who kill.'"

"But it does seem to me," said the resolute girl, losing all the native diffidence of her character in the interest she felt in her cause-"it does seem to me that even stern policy would sometimes dictate mercy.

May not a judicious clemency often secure the love of the misguided citizen, while harsh justice would estrange him still farther from loyalty?"

"There, you are trenching upon your father's part, my child," said the Governor. "You must not go beyond your own cue, you know-for believe me that your plea for mercy would avail far more with me than your reasons, however cogent. This rebellion proceeded too far to justify any clemency toward those who promoted it."

"But it is now suppressed," said Virginia, resolutely; "and is it not the sweetest attribute of power, to help the fallen? Oh, remember," she added, carried away completely by her subject,

"'Less pleasure take brave minds in battles won, Than in restoring such as are undone; Tigers have courage, and the rugged bear, But man alone can, when he conquers, spare.'"

"I did not expect to hear your father's daughter defend her cause by such lines as these. Do you know where they are found?"

"They are Waller's, I believe," said Virginia, blushing at this involuntary display of learning; "but it is their truth, and not their author, which suggested them to me."

"Your memory is correct," said Berkeley, with a smile, "but they are found in his panegyric on the Protector. A eulogy upon a traitor is bad authority with an old cavalier like me."

"If, then, you need authority which you cannot question," the girl replied, earnestly, "do you think that the royal cause lost strength by the mild policy of Charles the Second? That is authority that even you dare not question."

"Well, and what if I should say," replied Berkeley, "that this very leniency was one of the causes that encouraged the recent rebellion? But go, my child; I would rejoice if I could please you, but Hansford's fate is settled. I pity you, but I cannot forgive him." And with a courteous inclination of his head, he signified his desire that their interview should end.