The Judge
checked this indecency, and Evan, looking sternly around, when the murmur
abated, 'If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing,' he said, 'because a poor
man, such as me, thinks my life, or the life of six of my degree, is
worth that of Vich Ian Vohr, it's like enough they may be very right; but
if they laugh because they think I would not keep my word and come back
to redeem him, I can tell them they ken neither the heart of a Hielandman
nor the honour of a gentleman.'
There was no farther inclination to laugh among the audience, and a dead
silence ensued.
The Judge then pronounced upon both prisoners the sentence of the law of
high treason, with all its horrible accompaniments. The execution was
appointed for the ensuing day. 'For you, Fergus Mac-Ivor,' continued the
Judge, 'I can hold out no hope of mercy. You must prepare against
to-morrow for your last sufferings here, and your great audit hereafter.'
'I desire nothing else, my lord,' answered Fergus, in the same manly and
firm tone.
The hard eyes of Evan, which had been perpetually bent on his Chief, were
moistened with a tear. 'For you, poor ignorant man,' continued the Judge,
'who, following the ideas in which you have been educated, have this day
given us a striking example how the loyalty due to the king and state
alone is, from your unhappy ideas of clanship, transferred to some
ambitious individual who ends by making you the tool of his crimes--for
you, I say, I feel so much compassion that, if you can make up your mind
to petition for grace, I will endeavour to procure it for you.
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