"Let him be, poor man. He is like those Jews of old that buffeted our dear Lord, who compassionately prayed, ’Father, forgive them; they know not what they do,’" said Mr. Kid, in a quiet voice. "Shall this poor worm, professing to be His servant, not strive to follow that sweet example?" Adam Hepburn was silent, for what was there in his stormy and rebellious soul in unison with his companion’s sweet forgiveness and merciful compassion? "Know this, friend, that not many days from now I shall be beyond the reach or power of those who can hurt or kill the body," whispered Mr. Kid, after a brief interval. "In a dream my Lord bade me be of good cheer, for these sufferings should not long continue, but should presently have an ending in His Paradise. Oh, to be there even now! But I would not that my Lord should call me until I have fulfilled my testimony, and borne whatsoever may be required of me for His cause and kingdom here." Adam Hepburn spoke no word, and his companion, thinking him too much occupied with his own thoughts to be disturbed, presently desisted from his remarks, but comforted himself on the weary way by repeating in a low voice many sweet and precious passages of Scripture calculated to encourage the heart in these present trying circumstances. Although night fell, the prisoners were not allowed to halt in their march, but were mercilessly kept on foot and driven before the cavalry towards Edinburgh. In the grey dawning of the sweet summer morning they came within sight of the grey towers and turrets of the city. *CHAPTER XXIII.* *IN CAPTIVITY.* The prisons in Edinburgh were so full that they could hold no more. What, then, was to be done with the twelve hundred victims brought from the slaughter at Bothwell Bridge? The Government ordered that they should be shut into the churchyard of the Greyfriars, and there kept unceasing watch over day and night. So the old burying-ground, made memorable and sacred by another great gathering which had assembled within its boundaries forty years before, was now converted into an open gaol, the horrors of which pen could never describe. In the Grass-market there abode still Edward Kilgour, the merchant, brother-in-law to the late minister of Inverburn. Although a zealous and worthy Presbyterian, he had never joined with his brethren in arms, but had followed the dictates of his conscience and religion more quietly at home, attending to his business and the affairs of his household, and had thus escaped molestation. He was a man now stricken in years, but was still able to perform the duties of his calling, and attend personally in his place of business. His daughter Ailie, now a middle-aged woman, had remained unmarried for her father’s sake, and kept his house.