They had no sooner left the room than Claverhouse applied himself to some
food, which one or two of his party had hastily provided, and invited
Morton to follow his example, observing, it had been a busy day for them
both. Morton declined eating; for the sudden change of circumstances--the
transition from the verge of the grave to a prospect of life, had
occasioned a dizzy revulsion in his whole system. But the same confused
sensation was accompanied by a burning thirst, and he expressed his wish
to drink.

"I will pledge you, with all my heart," said Claverhouse; "for here is a
black jack full of ale, and good it must be, if there be good in the
country, for the whigs never miss to find it out.--My service to you, Mr
Morton," he said, filling one horn of ale for himself, and handing
another to his prisoner.

Morton raised it to his head, and was just about to drink, when the
discharge of carabines beneath the window, followed by a deep and hollow
groan, repeated twice or thrice, and more faint at each interval,
announced the fate of the three men who had just left them. Morton
shuddered, and set down the untasted cup.

"You are but young in these matters, Mr Morton," said Claverhouse, after
he had very composedly finished his draught; "and I do not think the
worse of you as a young soldier for appearing to feel them acutely. But
habit, duty, and necessity, reconcile men to every thing."

"I trust," said Morton, "they will never reconcile me to such scenes as
these."

"You would hardly believe," said Claverhouse in reply, "that, in the
beginning of my military career, I had as much aversion to seeing blood
spilt as ever man felt; it seemed to me to be wrung from my own heart;
and yet, if you trust one of those whig fellows, he will tell you I drink
a warm cup of it every morning before I breakfast. [Note: The author is
uncertain whether this was ever said of Claverhouse. But it was currently
reported of Sir Robert Grierson of Lagg, another of the persecutors, that
a cup of wine placed in his hand turned to clotted blood.] But in truth,
Mr Morton, why should we care so much for death, light upon us or around
us whenever it may? Men die daily--not a bell tolls the hour but it is
the death-note of some one or other; and why hesitate to shorten the span
of others, or take over-anxious care to prolong our own? It is all a
lottery--when the hour of midnight came, you were to die--it has struck,
you are alive and safe, and the lot has fallen on those fellows who were
to murder you. It is not the expiring pang that is worth thinking of in
an event that must happen one day, and may befall us on any given
moment--it is the memory which the soldier leaves behind him, like the
long train of light that follows the sunken sun--that is all which is
worth caring for, which distinguishes the death of the brave or the
ignoble. When I think of death, Mr Morton, as a thing worth thinking of,
it is in the hope of pressing one day some well-fought and hard-won
field of battle, and dying with the shout of victory in my ear--that
would be worth dying for, and more, it would be worth having lived for!"

At the moment when Grahame delivered these sentiments, his eye glancing
with the martial enthusiasm which formed such a prominent feature in his
character, a gory figure, which seemed to rise out of the floor of the
apartment, stood upright before him, and presented the wild person and
hideous features of the maniac so often mentioned. His face, where it was
not covered with blood-streaks, was ghastly pale, for the hand of death
was on him. He bent upon Claverhouse eyes, in which the grey light of
insanity still twinkled, though just about to flit for ever, and
exclaimed, with his usual wildness of ejaculation, "Wilt thou trust in
thy bow and in thy spear, in thy steed and in thy banner? And shall not
God visit thee for innocent blood?--Wilt thou glory in thy wisdom, and in
thy courage, and in thy might? And shall not the Lord judge thee?--Behold
the princes, for whom thou hast sold thy soul to the destroyer, shall be
removed from their place, and banished to other lands, and their names
shall be a desolation, and an astonishment, and a hissing, and a curse.
And thou, who hast partaken of the wine-cup of fury, and hast been
drunken and mad because thereof, the wish of thy heart shall be granted
to thy loss, and the hope of thine own pride shall destroy thee. I summon
thee, John Grahame, to appear before the tribunal of God, to answer for
this innocent blood, and the seas besides which thou hast shed."

He drew his right hand across his bleeding face, and held it up to heaven
as he uttered these words, which he spoke very loud, and then added more
faintly, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge
the blood of thy saints!"

As he uttered the last word, he fell backwards without an attempt to save
himself, and was a dead man ere his head touched the floor.

Morton was much shocked at this extraordinary scene, and the prophecy of
the dying man, which tallied so strangely with the wish which Claverhouse
had just expressed; and he often thought of it afterwards when that wish
seemed to be accomplished. Two of the dragoons who were in the apartment,
hardened as they were, and accustomed to such scenes, showed great
consternation at the sudden apparition, the event, and the words which
preceded it. Claverhouse alone was unmoved. At the first instant of
Mucklewrath's appearance, he had put his hand to his pistol, but on
seeing the situation of the wounded wretch, he immediately withdrew it,
and listened with great composure to his dying exclamation.

When he dropped, Claverhouse asked, in an unconcerned tone of voice--"How
came the fellow here?--Speak, you staring fool!" he added, addressing the
nearest dragoon, "unless you would have me think you such a poltroon as
to fear a dying man."

The dragoon crossed himself, and replied with a faltering voice,--"That
the dead fellow had escaped their notice when they removed the other
bodies, as he chanced to have fallen where a cloak or two had been flung
aside, and covered him."

"Take him away now, then, you gaping idiot, and see that he does not bite
you, to put an old proverb to shame.--This is a new incident, Mr. Morton,
that dead men should rise and push us from our stools. I must see that my
blackguards grind their swords sharper; they used not to do their work so
slovenly.--But we have had a busy day; they are tired, and their blades
blunted with their bloody work; and I suppose you, Mr Morton, as well as
I, are well disposed for a few hours' repose."

So saying, he yawned, and taking a candle which a soldier had placed
ready, saluted Morton courteously, and walked to the apartment which had
been prepared for him.

Morton was also accommodated, for the evening, with a separate room.
Being left alone, his first occupation was the returning thanks to Heaven
for redeeming him from danger, even through the instrumentality of those
who seemed his most dangerous enemies; he also prayed sincerely for the
Divine assistance in guiding his course through times which held out so
many dangers and so many errors. And having thus poured out his spirit in
prayer before the Great Being who gave it, he betook himself to the
repose which he so much required.





CHAPTER XIV.

               The charge is prepared, the lawyers are met,
               The judges all ranged--a terrible show!
                                        Beggar's Opera.

So deep was the slumber which succeeded the agitation and embarrassment
of the preceding day, that Morton hardly knew where he was when it was
broken by the tramp of horses, the hoarse voice of men, and the wild
sound of the trumpets blowing the _reveille_. The sergeant-major
immediately afterwards came to summon him, which he did in a very
respectful manner, saying the General (for Claverhouse now held that
rank) hoped for the pleasure of his company upon the road. In some
situations an intimation is a command, and Morton considered that the
present occasion was one of these. He waited upon Claverhouse as speedily
as he could, found his own horse saddled for his use, and Cuddie in
attendance. Both were deprived of their fire-arms, though they seemed,
otherwise, rather to make part of the troop than of the prisoners; and
Morton was permitted to retain his sword, the wearing which was, in those
days, the distinguishing mark of a gentleman. Claverhouse seemed also to
take pleasure in riding beside him, in conversing with him, and in
confounding his ideas when he attempted to appreciate his real character.
The gentleness and urbanity of that officer's general manners, the high
and chivalrous sentiments of military devotion which he occasionally
expressed, his deep and accurate insight into the human bosom, demanded
at once the approbation and the wonder of those who conversed with him;
while, on the other hand, his cold indifference to military violence and
cruelty seemed altogether inconsistent with the social, and even
admirable qualities which he displayed. Morton could not help, in his
heart, contrasting him with Balfour of Burley; and so deeply did the idea
impress him, that he dropped a hint of it as they rode together at some
distance from the troop.

"You are right," said Claverhouse, with a smile; "you are very right--we
are both fanatics; but there is some distinction between the fanaticism
of honour and that of dark and sullen superstition."

"Yet you both shed blood without mercy or remorse," said Morton, who
could not suppress his feelings.

"Surely," said Claverhouse, with the same composure; "but of what
kind?--There is a difference, I trust, between the blood of learned and
reverend prelates and scholars, of gallant soldiers and noble gentlemen,
and the red puddle that stagnates in the veins of psalm-singing
mechanics, crackbrained demagogues, and sullen boors;--some distinction,
in short, between spilling a flask of generous wine, and dashing down a
can full of base muddy ale?"

"Your distinction is too nice for my comprehension," replied Morton. "God
gives every spark of life--that of the peasant as well as of the prince;
and those who destroy his work recklessly or causelessly, must answer in
either case. What right, for example, have I to General Grahame's
protection now, more than when I first met him?"

"And narrowly escaped the consequences, you would say?" answered
Claverhouse--"why, I will answer you frankly. Then I thought I had to do
with the son of an old roundheaded rebel, and the nephew of a sordid
presbyterian laird; now I know your points better, and there is that
about you which I respect in an enemy as much as I like in a friend. I
have learned a good deal concerning you since our first meeting, and I
trust that you have found that my construction of the information has not
been unfavourable to you."

"But yet," said Morton--

"But yet," interrupted Grahame, taking up the word, "you would say you
were the same when I first met you that you are now? True; but then, how
could I know that? though, by the by, even my reluctance to suspend your
execution may show you how high your abilities stood in my estimation."

"Do you expect, General," said Morton, "that I ought to be particularly
grateful for such a mark of your esteem?"

"Poh! poh! you are critical," returned Claverhouse. "I tell you I thought
you a different sort of person. Did you ever read Froissart?"

"No," was Morton's answer.

"I have half a mind," said Claverhouse, "to contrive you should have six
months' imprisonment in order to procure you that pleasure. His chapters
inspire me with more enthusiasm than even poetry itself. And the noble
canon, with what true chivalrous feeling he confines his beautiful
expressions of sorrow to the death of the gallant and high-bred knight,
of whom it was a pity to see the fall, such was his loyalty to his king,
pure faith to his religion, hardihood towards his enemy, and fidelity to
his lady-love!--Ah, benedicite! how he will mourn over the fall of such a
pearl of knighthood, be it on the side he happens to favour, or on the
other. But, truly, for sweeping from the face of the earth some few
hundreds of villain churls, who are born but to plough it, the high-born
and inquisitive historian has marvellous little sympathy,--as little, or
less, perhaps, than John Grahame of Claverhouse."

"There is one ploughman in your possession, General, for whom," said
Morton, "in despite of the contempt in which you hold a profession which
some philosophers have considered as useful as that of a soldier, I would
humbly request your favour."

"You mean," said Claverhouse, looking at a memorandum book, "one
Hatherick--Hedderick--or--or--Headrigg. Ay, Cuthbert, or Cuddie
Headrigg--here I have him. O, never fear him, if he will be but
tractable. The ladies of Tillietudlem made interest with me on his
account some time ago. He is to marry their waiting-maid, I think. He
will be allowed to slip off easy, unless his obstinacy spoils his good
fortune."

"He has no ambition to be a martyr, I believe," said Morton.

"'Tis the better for him," said Claverhouse. "But, besides, although the
fellow had more to answer for, I should stand his friend, for the sake of
the blundering gallantry which threw him into the midst of our ranks last
night, when seeking assistance for you. I never desert any man who trusts
me with such implicit confidence. But, to deal sincerely with you, he has
been long in our eye.--Here, Halliday; bring me up the black book."

The sergeant, having committed to his commander this ominous record of
the disaffected, which was arranged in alphabetical order, Claverhouse,
turning over the leaves as he rode on, began to read names as they
occurred.

"Gumblegumption, a minister, aged 50, indulged, close, sly, and so
forth--Pooh! pooh!--He--He--I have him here--Heathercat; outlawed--a
preacher--a zealous Cameronian--keeps a conventicle among the Campsie
hills--Tush!--O, here is Headrigg--Cuthbert; his mother a bitter
puritan--himself a simple fellow--like to be forward in action, but of
no genius for plots--more for the hand than the head, and might be drawn
to the right side, but for his attachment to"--(Here Claverhouse looked
at Morton, and then shut the book and changed his tone.) "Faithful and
true are words never thrown away upon me, Mr Morton. You may depend on
the young man's safety."

"Does it not revolt a mind like yours," said Morton, "to follow a system
which is to be supported by such minute enquiries after obscure
individuals?"

"You do not suppose we take the trouble?" said the General, haughtily.
"The curates, for their own sakes, willingly collect all these materials
for their own regulation in each parish; they know best the black sheep
of the flock. I have had your picture for three years."

"Indeed?" replied Morton. "Will you favour me by imparting it?"

"Willingly," said Claverhouse; "it can signify little, for you cannot
avenge yourself on the curate, as you will probably leave Scotland for
some time."

This was spoken in an indifferent tone. Morton felt an involuntary
shudder at hearing words which implied a banishment from his native land;
but ere he answered, Claverhouse proceeded to read, "Henry Morton, son of
Silas Morton, Colonel of horse for the Scottish Parliament, nephew and
apparent heir of Morton of Milnwood--imperfectly educated, but with
spirit beyond his years--excellent at all exercises--indifferent to forms
of religion, but seems to incline to the presbyterian--has high-flown and
dangerous notions about liberty of thought and speech, and hovers between
a latitudinarian and an enthusiast. Much admired and followed by the
youth of his own age--modest, quiet, and unassuming in manner, but in his
heart peculiarly bold and intractable. He is--Here follow three red
crosses, Mr Morton, which signify triply dangerous. You see how important
a person you are.--But what does this fellow want?"

A horseman rode up as he spoke, and gave a letter. Claverhouse glanced it
over, laughed scornfully, bade him tell his master to send his prisoners
to Edinburgh, for there was no answer; and, as the man turned back, said
contemptuously to Morton--"Here is an ally of yours deserted from you, or
rather, I should say, an ally of your good friend Burley--Hear how he
sets forth--'Dear Sir,' (I wonder when we were such intimates,) 'may it
please your Excellency to accept my humble congratulations on the
victory'--hum--hum--'blessed his Majesty's army. I pray you to understand
I have my people under arms to take and intercept all fugitives, and have
already several prisoners,' and so forth. Subscribed Basil Olifant--You
know the fellow by name, I suppose?"

"A relative of Lady Margaret Bellenden," replied Morton, "is he not?"

"Ay," replied Grahame, "and heir-male of her father's family, though a
distant one, and moreover a suitor to the fair Edith, though discarded as
an unworthy one; but, above all, a devoted admirer of the estate of
Tillietudlem, and all thereunto belonging."

"He takes an ill mode of recommending himself," said Morton, suppressing
his feelings, "to the family at Tillietudlem, by corresponding with our
unhappy party."

"O, this precious Basil will turn cat in pan with any man!" replied
Claverhouse. "He was displeased with the government, because they would
not overturn in his favour a settlement of the late Earl of Torwood, by
which his lordship gave his own estate to his own daughter; he was
displeased with Lady Margaret, because she avowed no desire for his
alliance, and with the pretty Edith, because she did not like his tall
ungainly person. So he held a close correspondence with Burley, and
raised his followers with the purpose of helping him, providing always he
needed no help, that is, if you had beat us yesterday. And now the rascal
pretends he was all the while proposing the King's service, and, for
aught I know, the council will receive his pretext for current coin, for
he knows how to make friends among them--and a dozen scores of poor
vagabond fanatics will be shot, or hanged, while this cunning scoundrel
lies hid under the double cloak of loyalty, well-lined with the fox-fur
of hypocrisy."

With conversation on this and other matters they beguiled the way,
Claverhouse all the while speaking with great frankness to Morton, and
treating him rather as a friend and companion than as a prisoner; so
that, however uncertain of his fate, the hours he passed in the company
of this remarkable man were so much lightened by the varied play of his
imagination, and the depth of his knowledge of human nature, that since
the period of his becoming a prisoner of war, which relieved him at once
from the cares of his doubtful and dangerous station among the
insurgents, and from the consequences of their suspicious resentment, his
hours flowed on less anxiously than at any time since his having
commenced actor in public life. He was now, with respect to his fortune,
like a rider who has flung his reins on the horse's neck, and, while he
abandoned himself to circumstances, was at least relieved from the task
of attempting to direct them. In this mood he journeyed on, the number of
his companions being continually augmented by detached parties of horse
who came in from every quarter of the country, bringing with them, for
the most part, the unfortunate persons who had fallen into their power.
At length they approached Edinburgh.

"Our council," said Claverhouse, "being resolved, I suppose, to testify
by their present exultation the extent of their former terror, have
decreed a kind of triumphal entry to us victors and our captives; but as
I do not quite approve the taste of it, I am willing to avoid my own part
in the show, and, at the same time, to save you from yours."

So saying, he gave up the command of the forces to Allan, (now a
Lieutenant-colonel,) and, turning his horse into a by-lane, rode into the
city privately, accompanied by Morton and two or three servants. When
Claverhouse arrived at the quarters which he usually occupied in the
Canongate, he assigned to his prisoner a small apartment, with an
intimation, that his parole confined him to it for the present.

After about a quarter of an hour spent in solitary musing on the strange
vicissitudes of his late life, the attention of Morton was summoned to
the window by a great noise in the street beneath. Trumpets, drums, and
kettle-drums, contended in noise with the shouts of a numerous rabble,
and apprised him that the royal cavalry were passing in the triumphal
attitude which Claverhouse had mentioned. The magistrates of the city,
attended by their guard of halberds, had met the victors with their
welcome at the gate of the city, and now preceded them as a part of the
procession. The next object was two heads borne upon pikes; and before
each bloody head were carried the hands of the dismembered sufferers,
which were, by the brutal mockery of those who bore them, often
approached towards each other as if in the attitude of exhortation or
prayer. These bloody trophies belonged to two preachers who had fallen at
Bothwell Bridge. After them came a cart led by the executioner's
assistant, in which were placed Macbriar, and other two prisoners, who
seemed of the same profession. They were bareheaded, and strongly bound,
yet looked around them with an air rather of triumph than dismay, and
appeared in no respect moved either by the fate of their companions, of
which the bloody evidences were carried before them, or by dread of their
own approaching execution, which these preliminaries so plainly
indicated.

Behind these prisoners, thus held up to public infamy and derision, came
a body of horse, brandishing their broadswords, and filling the wide
street with acclamations, which were answered by the tumultuous outcries
and shouts of the rabble, who, in every considerable town, are too happy
in being permitted to huzza for any thing whatever which calls them
together. In the rear of these troopers came the main body of the
prisoners, at the head of whom were some of their leaders, who were
treated with every circumstance of inventive mockery and insult. Several
were placed on horseback with their faces to the animal's tail; others
were chained to long bars of iron, which they were obliged to support in
their hands, like the galleyslaves in Spain when travelling to the port
where they are to be put on shipboard. The heads of others who had fallen
were borne in triumph before the survivors, some on pikes and halberds,
some in sacks, bearing the names of the slaughtered persons labelled on
the outside. Such were the objects who headed the ghastly procession, who
seemed as effectually doomed to death as if they wore the sanbenitos of
the condemned heretics in an auto-da-fe. [Note: David Hackston of
Rathillet, who was wounded and made prisoner in the skirmish of
Air's-Moss, in which the celebrated Cameron fell, was, on entering
Edinburgh, "by order of the Council, received by the Magistrates at the
Watergate, and set on a horse's bare back with his face to the tail, and
the other three laid on a goad of iron, and carried up the street, Mr
Cameron's head being on a halberd before them."]

Behind them came on the nameless crowd to the number of several hundreds,
some retaining under their misfortunes a sense of confidence in the cause
for which they suffered captivity, and were about to give a still more
bloody testimony; others seemed pale, dispirited, dejected, questioning
in their own minds their prudence in espousing a cause which Providence
seemed to have disowned, and looking about for some avenue through which
they might escape from the consequences of their rashness. Others there
were who seemed incapable of forming an opinion on the subject, or of
entertaining either hope, confidence, or fear, but who, foaming with
thirst and fatigue, stumbled along like over-driven oxen, lost to every
thing but their present sense of wretchedness, and without having any
distinct idea whether they were led to the shambles or to the pasture.
These unfortunate men were guarded on each hand by troopers, and behind
them came the main body of the cavalry, whose military music resounded
back from the high houses on each side of the street, and mingled with
their own songs of jubilee and triumph, and the wild shouts of the
rabble.

Morton felt himself heart-sick while he gazed on the dismal spectacle,
and recognised in the bloody heads, and still more miserable and agonized
features of the living sufferers, faces which had been familiar to him
during the brief insurrection. He sunk down in a chair in a bewildered
and stupified state, from which he was awakened by the voice of Cuddie.

"Lord forgie us, sir!" said the poor fellow, his teeth chattering like a
pair of nut-crackers, his hair erect like boar's bristles, and his face
as pale as that of a corpse--"Lord forgie us, sir! we maun instantly gang
before the Council!--O Lord, what made them send for a puir bodie like
me, sae mony braw lords and gentles!--and there's my mither come on the
lang tramp frae Glasgow to see to gar me testify, as she ca's it, that is
to say, confess and be hanged; but deil tak me if they mak sic a guse o'
Cuddie, if I can do better. But here's Claverhouse himsell--the Lord
preserve and forgie us, I say anes mair!"

"You must immediately attend the Council Mr Morton," said Claverhouse,
who entered while Cuddie spoke, "and your servant must go with you. You
need be under no apprehension for the consequences to yourself
personally. But I warn you that you will see something that will give you
much pain, and from which I would willingly have saved you, if I had
possessed the power. My carriage waits us--shall we go?"

It will be readily supposed that Morton did not venture to dispute this
invitation, however unpleasant. He rose and accompanied Claverhouse.

"I must apprise you," said the latter, as he led the way down stairs,
"that you will get off cheap; and so will your servant, provided he can
keep his tongue quiet."

Cuddie caught these last words to his exceeding joy.

"Deil a fear o' me," said he, "an my mither disna pit her finger in the
pie."

At that moment his shoulder was seized by old Mause, who had contrived to
thrust herself forward into the lobby of the apartment.

"O, hinny, hinny!" said she to Cuddie, hanging upon his neck, "glad and
proud, and sorry and humbled am I, a'in ane and the same instant, to see
my bairn ganging to testify for the truth gloriously with his mouth in
council, as he did with his weapon in the field!"

"Whisht, whisht, mither!" cried Cuddie impatiently. "Odd, ye daft wife,
is this a time to speak o' thae things? I tell ye I'll testify naething
either ae gate or another. I hae spoken to Mr Poundtext, and I'll tak the
declaration, or whate'er they ca'it, and we're a' to win free off if we
do that--he's gotten life for himsell and a' his folk, and that's a
minister for my siller; I like nane o' your sermons that end in a psalm
at the Grassmarket." [Note: Then the place of public execution.]

"O, Cuddie, man, laith wad I be they suld hurt ye," said old Mause,
divided grievously between the safety of her son's soul and that of his
body; "but mind, my bonny bairn, ye hae battled for the faith, and dinna
let the dread o' losing creature-comforts withdraw ye frae the gude
fight."

"Hout tout, mither," replied Cuddie, "I hae fought e'en ower muckle
already, and, to speak plain, I'm wearied o'the trade. I hae swaggered
wi' a' thae arms, and muskets, and pistols, buffcoats, and bandoliers,
lang eneugh, and I like the pleughpaidle a hantle better. I ken naething
suld gar a man fight, (that's to say, when he's no angry,) by and
out-taken the dread o'being hanged or killed if he turns back."

"But, my dear Cuddie," continued the persevering Mause, "your bridal
garment--Oh, hinny, dinna sully the marriage garment!"

"Awa, awa, mither," replied. Cuddie; "dinna ye see the folks waiting for
me?--Never fear me--I ken how to turn this far better than ye do--for
ye're bleezing awa about marriage, and the job is how we are to win by
hanging."

So saying, he extricated himself out of his mother's embraces, and
requested the soldiers who took him in charge to conduct him to the place
of examination without delay. He had been already preceded by Claverhouse
and Morton.





CHAPTER XV.

                    My native land, good night!
                                        Lord Byron.

The Privy Council of Scotland, in whom the practice since the union of
the crowns vested great judicial powers, as well as the general
superintendence of the executive department, was met in the ancient dark
Gothic room, adjoining to the House of Parliament in Edinburgh, when
General Grahame entered and took his place amongst the members at the
council table.

"You have brought us a leash of game to-day, General," said a nobleman of
high place amongst them. "Here is a craven to confess--a cock of the game
to stand at bay--and what shall I call the third, General?"

"Without further metaphor, I will entreat your Grace to call him a person
in whom I am specially interested," replied Claverhouse.

"And a whig into the bargain?" said the nobleman, lolling out a tongue
which was at all times too big for his mouth, and accommodating his
coarse features to a sneer, to which they seemed to be familiar.

"Yes, please your Grace, a whig; as your Grace was in 1641," replied
Claverhouse, with his usual appearance of imperturbable civility.

"He has you there, I think, my Lord Duke," said one of the Privy
Councillors.

"Ay, ay," returned the Duke, laughing, "there's no speaking to him since
Drumclog--but come, bring in the prisoners--and do you, Mr Clerk, read
the record."

The clerk read forth a bond, in which General Grahame of Claverhouse and
Lord Evandale entered themselves securities, that Henry Morton, younger
of Milnwood, should go abroad and remain in foreign parts, until his
Majesty's pleasure was further known, in respect of the said Henry
Morton's accession to the late rebellion, and that under penalty of life
and limb to the said Henry Morton, and of ten thousand marks to each of
his securities.

"Do you accept of the King's mercy upon these terms, Mr Morton?" said the
Duke of Lauderdale, who presided in the Council.

"I have no other choice, my lord," replied Morton.

"Then subscribe your name in the record."

Morton did so without reply, conscious that, in the circumstances of his
case, it was impossible for him to have escaped more easily. Macbriar,
who was at the same instant brought to the foot of the council-table,
bound upon a chair, for his weakness prevented him from standing, beheld
Morton in the act of what he accounted apostasy.

"He hath summed his defection by owning the carnal power of the tyrant!"
he exclaimed, with a deep groan--"A fallen star!--a fallen star!"

"Hold your peace, sir," said the Duke, "and keep your ain breath to cool
your ain porridge--ye'll find them scalding hot, I promise you.--Call in
the other fellow, who has some common sense. One sheep will leap the
ditch when another goes first."

Cuddie was introduced unbound, but under the guard of two halberdiers,
and placed beside Macbriar at the foot of the table. The poor fellow cast
a piteous look around him, in which were mingled awe for the great men in
whose presence he stood, and compassion for his fellow-sufferers, with no
small fear of the personal consequences which impended over himself. He
made his clownish obeisances with a double portion of reverence, and then
awaited the opening of the awful scene.

"Were you at the battle of Bothwell Brigg?" was the first question which
was thundered in his ears.

Cuddie meditated a denial, but had sense enough, upon reflection, to
discover that the truth would be too strong for him; so he replied, with
true Caledonian indirectness of response, "I'll no say but it may be
possible that I might hae been there."

"Answer directly, you knave--yes, or no?--You know you were there."

"It's no for me to contradict your Lordship's Grace's honour," said
Cuddie.

"Once more, sir, were you there?--yes, or no?" said the Duke,
impatiently.

"Dear stir," again replied Cuddie, "how can ane mind preceesely where
they hae been a' the days o' their life?"

"Speak out, you scoundrel," said General Dalzell, "or I'll dash your
teeth out with my dudgeonhaft!--Do you think we can stand here all day to
be turning and dodging with you, like greyhounds after a hare?" [Note:
The General is said to have struck one of the captive whigs, when under
examination, with the hilt of his sabre, so that the blood gushed out.
The provocation for this unmanly violence was, that the prisoner had
called the fierce veteran "a Muscovy beast, who used to roast men."
Dalzell had been long in the Russian service, which in those days was no
school of humanity.]

"Aweel, then," said Cuddie, "since naething else will please ye, write
down that I cannot deny but I was there."

"Well, sir," said the Duke, "and do you think that the rising upon that
occasion was rebellion or not?"

"I'm no just free to gie my opinion, stir," said the cautious captive,
"on what might cost my neck; but I doubt it will be very little better."

"Better than what?"

"Just than rebellion, as your honour ca's it," replied Cuddie.

"Well, sir, that's speaking to the purpose," replied his Grace. "And are
you content to accept of the King's pardon for your guilt as a rebel, and
to keep the church, and pray for the King?"

"Blithely, stir," answered the unscrupulous Cuddie; "and drink his health
into the bargain, when the ale's gude."

"Egad," said the Duke, "this is a hearty cock.--What brought you into
such a scrape, mine honest friend?"

"Just ill example, stir," replied the prisoner, "and a daft auld jaud of
a mither, wi' reverence to your Grace's honour."

"Why, God-a-mercy, my friend," replied the Duke, "take care of bad advice
another time; I think you are not likely to commit treason on your own
score.--Make out his free pardon, and bring forward the rogue in the
chair."

Macbriar was then moved forward to the post of examination.

"Were you at the battle of Bothwell Bridge?" was, in like manner,
demanded of him.

"I was," answered the prisoner, in a bold and resolute tone.

"Were you armed?"

"I was not--I went in my calling as a preacher of God's word, to
encourage them that drew the sword in His cause."

"In other words, to aid and abet the rebels?" said the Duke.

"Thou hast spoken it," replied the prisoner.

"Well, then," continued the interrogator, "let us know if you saw John
Balfour of Burley among the party?--I presume you know him?"

"I bless God that I do know him," replied Macbriar; "he is a zealous and
a sincere Christian."

"And when and where did you last see this pious personage?" was the query
which immediately followed.

"I am here to answer for myself," said Macbriar, in the same dauntless
manner, "and not to endanger others."

"We shall know," said Dalzell, "how to make you find your tongue."

"If you can make him fancy himself in a conventicle," answered
Lauderdale, "he will find it without you.--Come, laddie, speak while the
play is good--you're too young to bear the burden will be laid on you
else."

"I defy you," retorted Macbriar. "This has not been the first of my
imprisonments or of my sufferings; and, young as I may be, I have lived
long enough to know how to die when I am called upon."

"Ay, but there are some things which must go before an easy death, if you
continue obstinate," said Lauderdale, and rung a small silver bell which
was placed before him on the table.

A dark crimson curtain, which covered a sort of niche, or Gothic recess
in the wall, rose at the signal, and displayed the public executioner, a
tall, grim, and hideous man, having an oaken table before him, on which
lay thumb-screws, and an iron case, called the Scottish boot, used in
those tyrannical days to torture accused persons. Morton, who was
unprepared for this ghastly apparition, started when the curtain arose,
but Macbriar's nerves were more firm. He gazed upon the horrible
apparatus with much composure; and if a touch of nature called the blood
from his cheek for a second, resolution sent it back to his brow with
greater energy.

"Do you know who that man is?" said Lauderdale, in a low, stern voice,
almost sinking into a whisper.

"He is, I suppose," replied Macbriar, "the infamous executioner of your
bloodthirsty commands upon the persons of God's people. He and you are
equally beneath my regard; and, I bless God, I no more fear what he can
inflict than what you can command. Flesh and blood may shrink under the
sufferings you can doom me to, and poor frail nature may shed tears, or
send forth cries; but I trust my soul is anchored firmly on the rock of
ages."

"Do your duty," said the Duke to the executioner.

The fellow advanced, and asked, with a harsh and discordant voice, upon
which of the prisoner's limbs he should first employ his engine.

"Let him choose for himself," said the Duke; "I should like to oblige him
in any thing that is reasonable."

"Since you leave it to me," said the prisoner, stretching forth his right
leg, "take the best--I willingly bestow it in the cause for which I
suffer." [Note: This was the reply actually made by James Mitchell when
subjected to the torture of the boot, for an attempt to assassinate
Archbishop Sharpe.]

The executioner, with the help of his assistants, enclosed the leg and
knee within the tight iron boot, or case, and then placing a wedge of the
same metal between the knee and the edge of the machine, took a mallet in
his hand, and stood waiting for farther orders. A well-dressed man, by
profession a surgeon, placed himself by the other side of the prisoner's
chair, bared the prisoner's arm, and applied his thumb to the pulse in
order to regulate the torture according to the strength of the patient.
When these preparations were made, the President of the Council repeated
with the same stern voice the question, "When and where did you last see
John Balfour of Burley?"

The prisoner, instead of replying to him, turned his eyes to heaven as if
imploring Divine strength, and muttered a few words, of which the last
were distinctly audible, "Thou hast said thy people shall be willing in
the day of thy power!"

The Duke of Lauderdale glanced his eye around the council as if to
collect their suffrages, and, judging from their mute signs, gave on his
own part a nod to the executioner, whose mallet instantly descended on
the wedge, and, forcing it between the knee and the iron boot, occasioned
the most exquisite pain, as was evident from the flush which instantly
took place on the brow and on the cheeks of the sufferer. The fellow then
again raised his weapon, and stood prepared to give a second blow.

"Will you yet say," repeated the Duke of Lauderdale, "where and when you
last parted from Balfour of Burley?"

"You have my answer," said the sufferer resolutely, and the second blow
fell. The third and fourth succeeded; but at the fifth, when a larger
wedge had been introduced, the prisoner set up a scream of agony.

Morton, whose blood boiled within him at witnessing such cruelty, could
bear no longer, and, although unarmed and himself in great danger, was
springing forward, when Claverhouse, who observed his emotion, withheld
him by force, laying one hand on his arm and the other on his mouth,
while he whispered, "For God's sake, think where you are!"

This movement, fortunately for him, was observed by no other of the
councillors, whose attention was engaged with the dreadful scene before
them.

"He is gone," said the surgeon--"he has fainted, my Lords, and human
nature can endure no more."

"Release him," said the Duke; and added, turning to Dalzell, "He will
make an old proverb good, for he'll scarce ride to-day, though he has had
his boots on. I suppose we must finish with him?"

"Ay, dispatch his sentence, and have done with him; we have plenty of
drudgery behind."

Strong waters and essences were busily employed to recall the senses of
the unfortunate captive; and, when his first faint gasps intimated a
return of sensation, the Duke pronounced sentence of death upon him, as a
traitor taken in the act of open rebellion, and adjudged him to be
carried from the bar to the common place of execution, and there hanged
by the neck; his head and hands to be stricken off after death, and
disposed of according to the pleasure of the Council, [Note: The pleasure
of the Council respecting the relics of their victims was often as savage
as the rest of their conduct. The heads of the preachers were frequently
exposed on pikes between their two hands, the palms displayed as in the
attitude of prayer. When the celebrated Richard Cameron's head was
exposed in this manner, a spectator bore testimony to it as that of one
who lived praying and preaching, and died praying and fighting.] and all
and sundry his movable goods and gear escheat and inbrought to his
Majesty's use.

"Doomster," he continued, "repeat the sentence to the prisoner."

The office of Doomster was in those days, and till a much later period,
held by the executioner in commendam, with his ordinary functions. [Note:
See a note on the subject of this office in the Heart of Mid-Lothian.]
The duty consisted in reciting to the unhappy criminal the sentence of
the law as pronounced by the judge, which acquired an additional and
horrid emphasis from the recollection, that the hateful personage by whom
it was uttered was to be the agent of the cruelties he denounced.
Macbriar had scarce understood the purport of the words as first
pronounced by the Lord President of the Council; but he was sufficiently
recovered to listen and to reply to the sentence when uttered by the
harsh and odious voice of the ruffian who was to execute it, and at the
last awful words, "And this I pronounce for doom," he answered boldly--
"My Lords, I thank you for the only favour I looked for, or would accept
at your hands, namely, that you have sent the crushed and maimed carcass,
which has this day sustained your cruelty, to this hasty end. It were
indeed little to me whether I perish on the gallows or in the
prison-house; but if death, following close on what I have this day
suffered, had found me in my cell of darkness and bondage, many might
have lost the sight how a Christian man can suffer in the good cause. For
the rest, I forgive you, my Lords, for what you have appointed and I have
sustained--And why should I not?--Ye send me to a happy exchange--to the
company of angels and the spirits of the just, for that of frail dust
and ashes--Ye send me from darkness into day--from mortality to
immortality--and, in a word, from earth to heaven!--If the thanks,
therefore, and pardon of a dying man can do you good, take them at my
hand, and may your last moments be as happy as mine!"

As he spoke thus, with a countenance radiant with joy and triumph, he was
withdrawn by those who had brought him into the apartment, and executed
within half an hour, dying with the same enthusiastic firmness which his
whole life had evinced.

The Council broke up, and Morton found himself again in the carriage with
General Grahame.

"Marvellous firmness and gallantry!" said Morton, as he reflected upon
Macbriar's conduct; "what a pity it is that with such self-devotion and
heroism should have been mingled the fiercer features of his sect!"

"You mean," said Claverhouse, "his resolution to condemn you to death?--
To that he would have reconciled himself by a single text; for example,
'And Phinehas arose and executed judgment,' or something to the same
purpose.--But wot ye where you are now bound, Mr Morton?"

"We are on the road to Leith, I observe," answered Morton. "Can I not be
permitted to see my friends ere I leave my native land?"

"Your uncle," replied Grahame, "has been spoken to, and declines visiting
you. The good gentleman is terrified, and not without some reason, that
the crime of your treason may extend itself over his lands and
tenements--he sends you, however, his blessing, and a small sum of money.
Lord Evandale continues extremely indisposed. Major Bellenden is at
Tillietudlem putting matters in order. The scoundrels have made great
havoc there with Lady Margaret's muniments of antiquity, and have
desecrated and destroyed what the good lady called the Throne of his most
Sacred Majesty. Is there any one else whom you would wish to see?"

Morton sighed deeply as he answered, "No--it would avail nothing.--But my
preparations,--small as they are, some must be necessary."

"They are all ready for you," said the General. "Lord Evandale has
anticipated all you wish. Here is a packet from him with letters of
recommendation for the court of the Stadtholder Prince of Orange, to
which I have added one or two. I made my first campaigns under him, and
first saw fire at the battle of Seneff. [Note: August 1674. Claverhouse
greatly distinguished himself in this action, and was made Captain.]
There are also bills of exchange for your immediate wants, and more will
be sent when you require it."

Morton heard all this and received the parcel with an astounded and
confused look, so sudden was the execution of the sentence of banishment.

"And my servant?" he said.

"He shall be taken care of, and replaced, if it be practicable, in the
service of Lady Margaret Bellenden; I think he will hardly neglect the
parade of the feudal retainers, or go a-whigging a second time.--But here
we are upon the quay, and the boat waits you."

It was even as Claverhouse said. A boat waited for Captain Morton, with
the trunks and baggage belonging to his rank. Claverhouse shook him by
the hand, and wished him good fortune, and a happy return to Scotland in
quieter times.

"I shall never forget," he said, "the gallantry of your behaviour to my
friend Evandale, in circumstances when many men would have sought to rid
him out of their way."

Another friendly pressure, and they parted. As Morton descended the pier
to get into the boat, a hand placed in his a letter folded up in very
small space. He looked round. The person who gave it seemed much muffled
up; he pressed his finger upon his lip, and then disappeared among the
crowd. The incident awakened Morton's curiosity; and when he found
himself on board of a vessel bound for Rotterdam, and saw all his
companions of the voyage busy making their own arrangements, he took an
opportunity to open the billet thus mysteriously thrust upon him. It ran
thus:--"Thy courage on the fatal day when Israel fled before his
enemies, hath, in some measure, atoned for thy unhappy owning of the
Erastian interest. These are not days for Ephraim to strive with Israel.
--I know thy heart is with the daughter of the stranger. But turn from
that folly; for in exile, and in flight, and even in death itself, shall
my hand be heavy against that bloody and malignant house, and Providence
hath given me the means of meting unto them with their own measure of
ruin and confiscation. The resistance of their stronghold was the main
cause of our being scattered at Bothwell Bridge, and I have bound it upon
my soul to visit it upon them. Wherefore, think of her no more, but join
with our brethren in banishment, whose hearts are still towards this
miserable land to save and to relieve her. There is an honest remnant in
Holland whose eyes are looking out for deliverance. Join thyself unto
them like the true son of the stout and worthy Silas Morton, and thou
wilt have good acceptance among them for his sake and for thine own
working. Shouldst thou be found worthy again to labour in the vineyard,
thou wilt at all times hear of my in-comings and out-goings, by enquiring
after Quintin Mackell of Irongray, at the house of that singular
Christian woman, Bessie Maclure, near to the place called the Howff,
where Niel Blane entertaineth guests. So much from him who hopes to hear
again from thee in brotherhood, resisting unto blood, and striving
against sin. Meanwhile, possess thyself in patience. Keep thy sword
girded, and thy lamp burning, as one that wakes in the night; for He who
shall judge the Mount of Esau, and shall make false professors as straw,
and malignants as stubble, will come in the fourth watch with garments
dyed in blood, and the house of Jacob shall be for spoil, and the house
of Joseph for fire. I am he that hath written it, whose hand hath been on
the mighty in the waste field."

This extraordinary letter was subscribed J. B. of B.; but the signature
of these initials was not necessary for pointing out to Morton that it
could come from no other than Burley. It gave him new occasion to admire
the indomitable spirit of this man, who, with art equal to his courage
and obstinacy, was even now endeavouring to re-establish the web of
conspiracy which had been so lately torn to pieces. But he felt no sort
of desire, in the present moment, to sustain a correspondence which must
be perilous, or to renew an association, which, in so many ways, had been
nearly fatal to him. The threats which Burley held out against the family
of Bellenden, he considered as a mere expression of his spleen on account
of their defence of Tillietudlem; and nothing seemed less likely than
that, at the very moment of their party being victorious, their fugitive
and distressed adversary could exercise the least influence over their
fortunes.

Morton, however, hesitated for an instant, whether he should not send
the Major or Lord Evandale intimation of Burley's threats. Upon
consideration, he thought he could not do so without betraying his
confidential correspondence; for to warn them of his menaces would have
served little purpose, unless he had given them a clew to prevent them,
by apprehending his person; while, by doing so, he deemed he should
commit an ungenerous breach of trust to remedy an evil which seemed
almost imaginary. Upon mature consideration, therefore, he tore the
letter, having first made a memorandum of the name and place where the
writer was to be heard of, and threw the fragments into the sea.