I plead not for mercy, for were it offered, on condition of doing homage unto Edward, I would refuse it, and choose death; protesting to the last that Robert Bruce, and he alone, is rightful king of Scotland.  My lords, in condemning me to death as a captive taken in war, ye may be justified by the law of battles, I dispute not the justice of your doom; but an ye sentence me as traitor, I do deny the charge, and say my condemnation is unjust and foul, and ye are perjured in its utterance.  I have said.  Now let your work proceed.”

He folded his arms on his breast, and awaited in unbroken silence his doom.  A brief pause had followed his words.  The Earl of Gloucester, who, from his rank and near connection with the king, occupied one of the seats of honor at the upper end of the large hall, and had, during the trial, vainly sought to catch the prisoner’s eye, now reclined back on his seat, his brow resting on his hand, his features completely concealed by the dark drapery of his cloak.  In that position he remained, not only during the pause, but while the fatal sentence was pronounced.

“By the laws of your country, and the sentence of your peers,” so it ran, “you, Nigel Bruce, by manifold acts of rebellion, disaffection, and raising up arms against your lawful king, Edward, the sovereign of England and Scotland, and all the realms, castles, and lordships thereto pertaining, are proved guilty of high treason and lese majeste, and are thereby condemned to be divested of all symbols of nobility and knighthood, which you have disgraced; to be dragged on a hurdle to the common gibbet, and there hung by the neck till you are dead; your head to be cut off; your body quartered and exposed at the principal towns as a warning to the disaffected and the traitorous of all ranks in either nation, and this is to be done at whatsoever time the good pleasure of our sovereign lord the king may please to appoint.  God save King Edward, and so perish all his foes!”

Not a muscle of the prisoner’s face had moved during the utterance of this awful sentence.  He had glanced fearlessly around him to the last, his eye resting on the figure of the Earl of Gloucester with an expression of pitying commiseration for a moment, as if he felt for him, for his deep regret in his country’s shame, infinitely more than for himself.  Proudly erect he held himself, as they led him in solemn pomp from the great hall of the castle, across the court to the dungeons of the condemned, gazing calmly and unflinchingly on the axe, which carried with its edge towards him proclaimed him condemned, though his doom was more ignominious than the axe bestowed.  There was a time when he had shrunk from the anticipated agony of a degradation so complete as this—­but not now; his spirit was already lifted up above the honors and humiliations of earth.  But one dream of this world remained—­one sad, sweet dream clung to his heart, and bound it with silver chains below.  Where was that gentle