“I am sorry that I alone cannot pay the debt, gentlemen. But after all ’tis but what we owe to nature sooner or later, the common debt of all. I bear in mind what Sir Walter Raleigh wrote the night before his head paid forfeit.
| “‘Cowards fear to die; but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.’ |
“Poor Murray drags out a miserable life despised by all, but we go to our God with clean hands. By St. Andrew, the better lot is ours.”
“I think of my poor wife and eight fatherless bairns,” said Cromartie sadly.
Rough Arthur Elphinstone’s comforting hand fell on his shoulder.
“A driech outlook, my friend. You must commend them to the God of orphans if the worst befalls. As for us— Well, in the next world we will not be tried by a whig jury.”
Balmerino stepped into the coach which was waiting to convey him to the Tower. The gentleman-gaoler followed with the official axe, the edge of which still pointed toward its victim. He must have handled it carelessly in getting into the carriage, for I heard Balmerino bark out,
“Take care, man, or you’ll break my shins with that d——d axe.”
They were the last words I ever heard from his lips. The door slammed and the coach drove away to the prison, from which my Lord came forth only to meet the headsman and his block.