“Present!”—he heard that, for he lifted his head and dropped his hands before him, awaiting the fiery shower of musketry.
Still, not a movement in those disciplined ranks!
“Prisoner!”
It was another voice that spoke.
The General had bid the party wait his order to fire, and, lest any fatal error should occur, had warned the men, that he should step before them to address the prisoner.—“Remember,” said Sir Adrian, “if you do not strictly adhere to my orders, you will shoot me.”
None but the firing party and Mr Trail were prepared for this pause in the ceremonial.
“Prisoner—”
Gray remained kneeling, but bent his head in recognition of the voice addressing him.
“The offence of which you were found guilty on the —th of — should have been punished yesterday by death; but the events of that day delayed your doom. Extenuating circumstances induced your merciful judges to reconsider your case, and finally to accept your own assertions as evidence in your favour. God is the judge of your word, whether true or false. In the name then of Him, who loves mercy better than sacrifice, I entreat you to redeem your past errors by a deep repentance. Prisoner, rise!—you are pardoned!”
Some one removed the bandage from Gray’s eyes—the light dazzled them—he could see nothing; but, though faint and powerless, he knew it was in Mr Trail’s kind arms that he reclined.