The dull monotony of the strokes of the hammers fell on his ear.

Now and then the torches, which lighted the workmen at their melancholy task, allowed to shine up into his cell a pale glimmer of light, which danced on the walls in ghost-like shapes.
"There are the ghosts of all those that Henry has put to death," thought Henry Howard; "they gather around me; like will-o'-the-wisps, they dance with me the dance of death, and in a few hours I shall be forever theirs." The dull noise of hammers and saws continued steadily on, and Henry Howard sank deeper and deeper in reverie.
He thought, he felt, and desired nothing but Geraldine.

His whole soul was concentrated in that single thought of her.

It seemed to him he could bid his spirit see her, as though he could command his senses to perceive her.

Yes, she was there; he felt-he was conscious of her presence.