Page:Tale of the Rebellion of 1745, or, The broken heart (1).pdf/11

                   11 became his comforter. She no longer spoke of their bridal—but she spoke of eternity; she spoke of their meeting where the ambition, the rivalry, and the power of princes should be able to cast no cloud over the happiness of the soul. Fourteen days had passed, and during that he had showed no sign of fear; she evinced none of a woman’s weakness. She seemed to have mastered her grief, and her soul was prepared to meet them. Yet, save only when she spoke to him, her soul appeared entranced, and her body lifeless. On the 29th July, an order was brought for the execution of the victims on the following day. James Dawson bowed his head to the officer who delivered the warrant, and calmly answered--"I am prepared!” The cries of the mother rang through the prison. She tore her hair—she sank upon the floor, she entreated Heaven to spare her child. His father groaned, he held the hand of his son in his, and tears gushed down his furrowed cheeks. Fanny alone was silent, she alone was tranquil. No throe of agony swelled her bosom, flushed in her counte- nance, or burned in her eye. She was calm, speechless, resigned. He pressed her to his heart, and took a last farewell.  “Adieu! adieu!—my own,” he cried—“my Fanny, farewell, an eternal farewell!”  “Nay, nay,” she replied, “not eternal, we shall meet again. ’Tis a short farewell, I feel it—I feel it. Adieu love,—adieu! Die firmly. We shall meet soon.”  Next morning the prisoners were to be dragged on sledges to Kensington Common, which was to be the place of execution. In the first sledge was the executioner, sitting over his fettered victims with a drawn sword in his hand. No priest—no minister of religion attended them; and around the sledges followed thousands, some few expressing