But Sir William Howe had evidently seen
enough. The sternness of his countenance gave place to a look of wild
amazement, if not horror, while he recoiled several steps from the
figure and let fall his sword upon the floor. The martial shape again
drew the cloak about his features and passed on, but, reaching the
threshold with his back toward the spectators, he was seen to stamp
his foot and shake his clenched hands in the air. It was afterward
affirmed that Sir William Howe had repeated that selfsame gesture of
rage and sorrow when for the last time, and as the last royal
governor, he passed through the portal of the province-house.
"Hark! The procession moves," said Miss Joliffe.
The music was dying away along the street, and its dismal strains were
mingled with the knell of midnight from the steeple of the Old South
and with the roar of artillery which announced that the beleaguered
army of Washington had intrenched itself upon a nearer height than
before. As the deep boom of the cannon smote upon his ear Colonel
Joliffe raised himself to the full height of his aged form and smiled
sternly on the British general.
"Would Your Excellency inquire further into the mystery of the
pageant?" said he.
"Take care of your gray head!" cried Sir William Howe, fiercely,
though with a quivering lip. "It has stood too long on a traitor's
shoulders."
"You must make haste to chop it off, then," calmly replied the
colonel, "for a few hours longer, and not all the power of Sir William
Howe, nor of his master, shall cause one of these gray hairs to fall.
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