His stern features
expressed inflexible resolution; his brows were puckered, and his lips
compressed, with deep and settled purpose; and when he started at a
noise and listened, it was not with the start of fear but hope, and
catching up his sword as though the hour had come at last, he would
clutch it in his tight-clenched hand, and listen with sparkling eyes and
eager looks, until it died away.
These disappointments were numerous, for they ensued on almost every
sound, but his constancy was not shaken. Still, every night he was at
his post, the same stern, sleepless, sentinel; and still night passed,
and morning dawned, and he must watch again.
This went on for weeks; he had taken a lodging at Vauxhall in which
to pass the day and rest himself; and from this place, when the tide
served, he usually came to London Bridge from Westminster by water, in
order that he might avoid the busy streets.
One evening, shortly before twilight, he came his accustomed road upon
the river's bank, intending to pass through Westminster Hall into Palace
Yard, and there take boat to London Bridge as usual. There was a pretty
large concourse of people assembled round the Houses of Parliament,
looking at the members as they entered and departed, and giving vent to
rather noisy demonstrations of approval or dislike, according to their
known opinions.
Pages:
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569