Well, 'twas found she spoke truth; and the hanging was put off till
after the time of her delivery. She was led back to prison, and there,
about the end of June, her child was born, and died before he was six
hours old. But the mother recovered, and quietly abode the time of her
hanging.


I can mind her execution very well; for father and mother had determined
it would be an excellent thing for my rickets to take me into Bodmin
that day, and get a touch of the dead woman's hand, which in those times
was considered an unfailing remedy. So we borrowed the parson's
manure-cart, and cleaned it thoroughly, and drove in together.

The place of the hangings, then, was a little door in the prison-wall,
looking over the bank where the railway now goes, and a dismal piece of
water called Jail-pool, where the townsfolk drowned most of the dogs and
cats they'd no further use for. All the bank under the gallows was that
thick with people you could almost walk upon their heads; and my ribs
were squeezed by the crowd so that I couldn't breathe freely for a month
after. Back across the pool, the fields along the side of the valley
were lined with booths and sweet-stalls and standings--a perfect
Whitsun-fair; and a din going up that cracked your ears.

But there was the stillness of death when the woman came forth, with the
sheriff and the chaplain reading in his book, and the unnamed man
behind--all from the little door. She wore a strait black gown, and a
white kerchief about her neck--a lovely woman, young and white and
tearless.