Here he remained for the space of half an hour, an interval that was passed by him in the most distressing doubt and anxiety. The whole proceeding of the court boded ill to him. The haste of his trial, the extraordinary nature of the charges, and the general unsympathizing demeanor of the court itself, only spoke to his mind as evidences of a concealed hostility, which sought to find a plausible pretext for making him a sacrifice to some private malevolence. He was therefore prepared to expect the worst when, at the close of the half hour, St. Jermyn entered his chamber. "I come, sir," said the officer, "to perform a melancholy duty. The court have just concluded their deliberations." "And I am to be a sacrifice to their vengeance. Well, so be it! There was little need of deliberation in my case, and they have soon despatched it," said Butler, with a bitter spirit, as he paced up and down his narrow chamber. "What favor have these, my impartial judges, vouchsafed to me in my last moment? Shall I die as a common felon, on a gibbet, or am I to meet a soldier's doom?" "That has been thought of," said St. Jermyn. "The commanding officer has no disposition to add unnecessary severity to your unhappy fate." "Thank God for that! and that the files detailed for this service are to be drawn from the ranks of my enemies! I will face them as proudly as I have ever done on the field of battle. Leave me, sir; I have matters in my thought that require I should be alone." "Your time, I fear, is brief," said St. Jermyn. "The guard is already at hand to conduct you to the court, who only stay to pass sentence. I came before to break the unhappy news to you." "It is no news to me," interrupted Butler. "I could expect no other issue to the wicked designs by which I have been seized. This solemn show of a trial was only got up to give color to a murderous act which has been long predetermined." At this moment, the heavy and regular tap of the drum, struck at equal intervals, and a mournful note from a fife, reached the prisoner's ear. "I come!" exclaimed Butler. "These fellows are practising their manual for an occasion in which they appear impatient to act. One would think, Captain St. Jermyn," he added, with a smile of scorn, "that they needed but little practice to accomplish them for a ceremony which has of late, since his majesty has extended his merciful arm over this province, grown to be a familiar piece of military punctilio." St. Jermyn hastily fled from the room, and rushing out upon the grass-plot where the guard was collected, cried out: "Silence, you base and worthless knaves! Is it thus you would insult the sufferings of an unfortunate enemy, by drumming, under his very ear, your cursed death-notes? Strike but one note upon that drum again, and I will have you up to the halberds." "The music did but try a flourish of the dead march," replied the sergeant of the guard; "they are a little rusty, and seeing that the Whig officer"--