And then she suddenly lifted her eyes and saw the great black scaffold looming in horrible menace above her head. * * * * * A faint cry of mortal agony came from Nina’s lips. Her head drooped a moment on her breast. * * * * * A low murmur of pity and sorrow rose upon the soft air of the summer morning from the lips of those who had sought the court yard of the jail to witness the execution that was the theme of every tongue and the topic of every newspaper. Although popular opinion adjudged her guilty of the murder, there was a great amount of pity and sympathy felt for her. She was so young and lovely, and she had had such terrible provocation, they said. But pity and sorrow and sympathy and even the most faithful love had proved futile to save her from her dreadful fate. Doctor Fielding and her lawyer had done all that lay in human power to secure her pardon, but Governor Steele had steadily refused even a reprieve. He believed that she was guilty, and his stern sense of duty forbade him to temper justice with mercy. So, on this golden summer morning when the world was at its fairest, when the roses and lillies were blooming, when the birds were singing and the tiniest little brooks were laughing with delight, they had come here to see her die. And all said to each other that they were sorry for her--that she was too young and beautiful to have been such a sinner and to have to die for her sin. When that low moan of agony issued from her lips and her fair head dropped for a moment on her breast every heart was shaken to its center--every heart save the one that beat in the breast of a slender, blue-eyed lad who had pressed almost to the foot of the scaffold in his eagerness to see and hear all. On the half-averted face of this handsome fair-haired lad there was a glittering smile of almost demoniac triumph. His eyes laughed with delight. He appeared like a human vampire delighting in the scent of blood. But he took care that no one should catch the expression of evil joy upon his face. He held his white handkerchief over his face, and peered above it with those wicked, laughing blue eyes at the tall scaffold and the shrinking victim whom they were now leading up the steps. She stood there before them all, a sight to make the angels weep for pity, with that horrible rope about that beautiful white neck that they were about to break, and her face shining above it like a tender white flower crowned with gold, while Kitty May’s loud wails of despair rose up from the foot of the gallows and almost drowned the broken prayer of the aged minister.