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"
When I was left alone, I sat down to write diligently that history
of myself which I had composed and fixed in my memory during the
year of my housing in this dungeon. The words came from my pen
freely, and hour after hour through many days, while no single word
reached me from the outside world, I wrote on; carefully revising,
but changing little from that which I had taken so long to record
in my mind. I would not even yet think that they would hang me; and
if they did, what good could brooding do? When the last word of the
memoirs (I may call them so), addressed to Alixe, had been written,
I turned my thoughts to other friends.
The day preceding that fixed for my execution came, yet there
was no sign from friend or enemy without. At ten o'clock of that
day Chaplain Wainfleet was admitted to me in the presence of Gabord
and a soldier. I found great pleasure in his company, brief as his
visit was; and after I had given him messages to bear for me to old
friends, if we never met again and he were set free, he left me,
benignly commending me to Heaven.


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