The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

NED RUSSELL 83 He knew that she was at Madrid, endeavouring to obtain his pardon, or at least a commutation of his sentence; he knew likewise, from the same source (namely, Count Christoval), that she trusted to the strong letters she had received from the Marquis and Marchioness of Villebelle to accomplish her aim; and he knew that her disappointment must prove of the bitterest description. For disappointed she had evidently been. Alas, poor Kate — and again he wiped away a tear. But Count Christoval himself, wherefore came he not? It was now Saturday morning, and not since Tuesday had Russell seen him, nor in the interval had he heard from him. What could this mean? Not for an instant did the frank- hearted sailor suspect that the Spanish nobleman had deserted him at the very last, but he feared lest some accident should have befallen him. Once or twice during that interval, Ned Russell had caught himself giving way to the hope that this absence and silence on Don Diego’s part were in some way or another favourably connected with his own case, that something had transpired to turn the progress of events into another channel, requiring the count’s presence elsewhere, and that he had either no time to make a communication, or else that his message or letter had been cntrusted to a neglectful emissary. But as the time drew near, Ned Russell suffered himself not to be buoyed up with this hope. He considered it not merely a weakness, but likewise a folly, to give way to hope on such slender grounds, and with true characteristic courage, he prepared to die. A Franciscan chaplain, attached to the gaol, had on several occasions, since Russell’s confinement, endeavoured to per- suade him to kneel and pray, but inasmuch as the worthy priest could only convey this intimation by signs, — he being as ignorant of the English tongue as the prisoner was of the Spanish, — their intercourse had hitherto amounted to mere dumb show, the priest wishing to enforce his object by means of gestures, and the captive as peremptorily refus- ing in a similar manner. But on this Saturday morning, — the one fixed for the execution, — the prison chaplain made his appearance, accompanied by a brother Franciscan who could speak a little English, and the latter priest endeavoured to persuade Russell to accept the last consolations of religion. Now, Ned never had been at all of a religious character; not that he was an infidel nor a skeptic, — on the contrary, he CONNIE DOOKS (C(O)