Ten o'clock had sounded some time since, when there was a sudden
movement in the crowd, a backward pressure by the ranks of guards, and a
man, saluting as he passed, walked up that narrow, human lane to the
little square and mounted the scaffold with a firm tread. A great hush
fell, broken only by the sounds of sobbing. This man a coward! Every
look, every action, gave the lie to such an accusation. Two Bishops
stood by him and spoke to him, but their words were inaudible to the
greater part of the crowd; and Ketch, the headsman, stood silently by
the block, a man hated and execrated from the corridors of Whitehall to
the filthiest purlieus of the town.
"I die a Protestant of the Church of England."
These words were clear enough, and against them the Bishops seemed to
protest, but in what words the crowd could not hear, and only those
close about the scaffold heard Monmouth's confession that he was sorry
the rebellion had ever happened, since it had brought ruin on those who
loved him. Then for a while he knelt in prayer, and said "Amen!" even to
the Bishops' petition for a blessing upon the King, but it was
grudgingly said, and after a pause.
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