spare
this young man's life."

"Evandale," replied Grahame, in great surprise, "you are mad--absolutely
mad--what interest can you have in this young spawn of an old
roundhead?--His father was positively the most dangerous man in all
Scotland, cool, resolute, soliderly, and inflexible in his cursed
principles. His son seems his very model; you cannot conceive the
mischief he may do. I know mankind, Evandale--were he an insignificant,
fanatical, country booby, do you think I would have refused such a
trifle as his life to Lady Margaret and this family? But this is a lad
of fire, zeal, and education--and these knaves want but such a leader to
direct their blind enthusiastic hardiness. I mention this, not as
refusing your request, but to make you fully aware of the possible
consequences--I will never evade a promise, or refuse to return an
obligation--if you ask his life, he shall have it."

"Keep him close prisoner," answered Evandale, "but do not be surprised if
I persist in requesting you will not put him to death. I have most urgent
reasons for what I ask."

"Be it so then," replied Grahame;--"but, young man, should you wish in
your future life to rise to eminence in the service of your king and
country, let it be your first task to subject to the public interest, and
to the discharge of your duty, your private passions, affections, and
feelings. These are not times to sacrifice to the dotage of greybeards,
or the tears of silly women, the measures of salutary severity which the
dangers around compel us to adopt. And remember, that if I now yield this
point, in compliance with your urgency, my present concession must exempt
me from future solicitations of the same nature."

He then stepped forward to the table, and bent his eyes keenly on Morton,
as if to observe what effect the pause of awful suspense between death
and life, which seemed to freeze the bystanders with horror, would
produce upon the prisoner himself. Morton maintained a degree of
firmness, which nothing but a mind that had nothing left upon earth to
love or to hope, could have supported at such a crisis.

"You see him?" said Claverhouse, in a half whisper to Lord Evandale; "he
is tottering on the verge between time and eternity, a situation more
appalling than the most hideous certainty; yet his is the only cheek
unblenched, the only eye that is calm, the only heart that keeps its
usual time, the only nerves that are not quivering. Look at him well