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 further 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 if for
you.
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