There was sufficient spur for prayer in the menacing fortress before him with its hundred tiny windows, and the new scaffold, some five or six feet high, that stood in the foreground.

He wondered how the bishop was passing his time and thought he knew.

The long grey wall beyond the moat, and the towers that rose above it, were suggestive in their silent strength.
From where he stood too he could catch a glimpse of the shining reaches of the river with the green slopes on the further side; and the freedom and beauty of the sight, the delicate haze that hung over the water, the birds winging their way across, the boats plying to and fro, struck a vivid contrast to the grim fatality of the prison and the scaffold.
A bell sounded out somewhere from the Tower, and a ripple ran through the crowd.

There was an immensely tall man a few yards from Chris, and Chris could see his face turn suddenly towards the lower ground by the river where the gateway rose up dark against the bright water.

The man's face suddenly lighted with interest, and Chris saw his lips move and his eyes become intent.