Even when the first excitement had passed away, I felt none of the stupefaction which I have heard that men feel in such a position. My brain was painfully active. In vain I longed to sleep, if it were only that I might not be thought to fear death. But the fact that I was to be tried first, though the sentence was a certainty, distracted and troubled me. My thoughts paced from thing to thing; now dwelling on the Duchess and her husband, now flitting to Petronilla and Sir Anthony, to the old place at home and the servants; to strange petty things, long familiar--a tree in the chase at Coton, an herb I had planted. Once a great lump rose in my throat, and I had to turn away to hide the hot tears that would rise at the thought that I must die in this mean German town, in this unknown corner, and be buried and forgotten! And once, too, to torment me, there rose a doubt in my mind whether Master Bertie would recover; whether, indeed, I had not thrown my life away for nothing. But it was too late to think of that! And the doubt, which the Evil One himself must have suggested, so terrible was it passed away quickly. My thoughts raced, but the night crawled. We had surrendered about ten, and the magistrates, less pitiful than the jailers, had forbidden my friends to stay with me. An hour or more after midnight, two of the men lay down and the other sat humming a drinking-song, or at intervals rose to yawn and stretch himself and look out of the window. From time to time, the cry of the watchman going his rounds came drearily to my ears, recalling to me the night I had spent behind the boarding in Moorgate Street, when the adventure which was to end to-morrow--nay, to-day--in a few hours--had lured me away. To-day? Was I to die to-day? To perish with all my plans, hopes, love? It seemed impossible. As I gazed at the window, whose shape began to be printed on my brain, it seemed impossible. My soul so rose in rebellion against it, that the perspiration stood on my brow, and I had to clasp my hands about my knees, and strain every muscle to keep in the cry I would have uttered! a cry, not of fear, but of rage and remonstrance and revolt. I was glad to see the first streaks of dawn, to hear the first cock-crowings, and, a few minutes later, the voices of men in the street and on the stairs. The sounds of day and life acted magically upon me. The horror of the night passed off as does the horror of a dream. When a man, heavily cloaked and with his head covered, came in, the door being shut behind him by another hand, I looked up at him bravely. The worst was past. He replied by looking down at me for a few moments without disclosing himself, the collar of his cloak being raised so high that I could see nothing of his features. My first notion that he must be Master Lindstrom passed away; and, displeased by his silent scrutiny, and thinking him a stranger, I said sharply, "I hope you are satisfied, sir."