While speaking these words, Burley unslung his carabine, and held it in readiness.
“I am not to be intimidated from the discharge of my duty by the menaces of a murderer,” said Cornet Grahame.—“Hear me, good people; I proclaim, in the name of the King and of my commanding officer, full and free pardon to all, excepting”—
“I give thee fair warning,” said Burley, presenting his piece.
“A free pardon to all,” continued the young officer, still addressing the body of the insurgents—“to all but”—
“Then the Lord grant grace to thy soul—amen!” said Burley.
With these words he fired, and Cornet Richard Grahame dropped from his horse. The shot was mortal. The unfortunate young gentleman had only strength to turn himself on the ground and mutter forth, “My poor mother!” when life forsook him in the effort. His startled horse fled back to the regiment at the gallop, as did his scarce less affrighted attendant.
“What have you done?” said one of Balfour’s brother officers.
“My duty,” said Balfour, firmly. “Is it not written, Thou shalt be zealous even to slaying? Let those, who dare, now venture to speak of truce or pardon!”
Claverhouse saw his nephew fall. He turned his eye on Evandale, while a transitory glance of indescribable emotion disturbed, for a second’s space, the serenity of his features, and briefly said, “You see the event.”
“I will avenge him, or die!” exclaimed Evandale; and, putting his horse into motion, rode furiously down the hill, followed by his own troop, and that of the deceased Cornet, which broke down without orders; and, each striving to be the foremost to revenge their young officer, their ranks soon fell into confusion. These forces formed the first line of the royalists. It was in vain that Claverhouse exclaimed, “Halt! halt! this rashness will undo us.” It was all that he could accomplish, by galloping along the second line, entreating, commanding, and even menacing the men with his sword, that he could restrain them from following an example so contagious.