You can come after
him early to-morrow morning."
The little groom thought this a queer arrangement, but he was not in
the habit of criticising his young mistress's actions.
Capitola got home to a late supper and to the anxious inquiries of
her friends she replied that she had been to the prison to take
leave of Black Donald, and begged that they would not pursue so
painful a subject.
And, in respect to Cap's sympathies, they changed the conversation.
That night the remnant of Black Donald's band were assembled in
their first old haunt, the Old Road Inn. They had met for a twofold
purpose--to bury their old matron, Mother Raven, who, since the
death of her patron and the apprehension of her captain, had
returned to the inn to die--and to bewail the fate of their leader,
whose execution was expected to come off the next day.
The men laid the poor old woman in her woodland grave, and assembled
in the kitchen to keep a death watch in sympathy with their
"unfortunate" captain. They gathered around the table, and, foaming
mugs of ale were freely quaffed for "sorrow's dry," they said. But
neither laugh, song nor jest attended their draughts. They were to
keep that night's vigil in honor of their captain, and then were to
disband and separate forever.
Suddenly, in the midst of their heavy grief and utter silence a
familiar sound was heard--a ringing footstep under the back windows.
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