“Peace! I have no father—no friend—no love. To-morrow’s sun will see me as I was before my being; all of me gone, except my name coupled with hated murderers and traitors. Away, away, old man! it drives me to madness. But, if the spirits of the dead can burst the sepulchre, I will be near my murderer. In the blackness of night I will be near him, and whisper in his thoughts dark, dark as hell.”
“Have patience”——
“Patience! Heaven and earth! Remove these bonds,” said he, striking his manacles together till the vaulted roof echoed the clanking. “Give me my sword,—place Montrose before me,—and I’ll be patient! very patient!”—and he burst into a fit of hysterical laughter which made the preacher shudder.
“Prepare to meet thy God, young man,” exclaimed the Covenanter. He succeeded in gaining his attention, and resumed: “Thy thoughts are full of carnal revenge, forgetting Him who hath said, ‘vengeance is mine.’ I tell thee that thy thoughts are evil, and not good. Turn thyself to thy Saviour, and, instead of denouncing woe on thy fellows, prepare thyself for thy long journey.”
“Long, indeed!” said Basil, entering into a new train of ideas. “Ere to-morrow’s sun go down, my soul, how far wilt thou have travelled? Thou wilt outstrip the lightning’s speed. And then, the account! I am wrong, good man; but my brain is giddy. Leave me now,—but, prithee, return.”
“I shall see thee again. Put thy trust in the Lord. Compose thy troubled mind, and God be with thee! Thy father is soliciting thy pardon; and he bade me tell thee he would visit thee to-day. I’ll go to Montrose myself,—for he shall pardon thee.”
The day following, a dark gibbet frowned in the centre of the market-place, erected in the bore of the millstone which lies at this day in the middle of Castle Street. At an early hour the whole square was filled with spectators to witness the tragedy. A powerful band of the Covenanters guarded the scaffold. A deep feeling of sympathy pervaded the multitude, for the wretched prisoner was known to almost every individual. Every one was talking to his neighbour on the distressing event, with an interest which showed the intensity of their sympathy with the sufferer.
“Willawins! willawins!” said an aged woman; “I suckled him at this auld breast, and dandled him in these frail arms. On the vera last winter, when I was ill wi’ an income, he was amaist the only ane that came to speir for me; an’ weel I wat, he didna come toom-handed. I just hirpled out, because I thought I wad like to see his bonny face and his glossy curls ance mair; but I canna thole that black woodie! It glamours my auld een. Lord be wi’ him! Eh, sirs! eh, sirs!”
“Vera right, cummer,” said Tenor the wright; “it’s a waesome business. Troth, ilka nail that I drave into that woodie, I could have wished to have been a nail o’ my ain coffin.”
“And what for stand ye a’ idle here?” said a withered beldame, whom Basil had found means to save from being tried for witchcraft, which, as the reader is aware that “Jeddart justice” was administered on these occasions, was tantamount to condemnation. “Why stand ye idle here? I’ve seen the time when a’ the Whigs in the land dauredna do this. Tak the sword! tak the sword! The day ’ill come when the corbies will eat Montrose’s fause heart, and”——