The first day's proceedings being at an end, the prisoners were remanded to the Tower. On the following morning the proceedings were resumed, and the Lords having assembled in the Painted Chamber, took their places in Westminster Hall. The three lords were then again brought to the bar, again kneeled down, again were bidden to arise. The Attorney-General having prayed for judgment upon the prisoners, they were desired by the Lord High Steward to say "why judgment of death should not be passed against them according to law." The reply of Lord Kilmarnock is described as having been a "very fine speech, delivered in a very fine voice;" his behaviour during the whole of the trial, a "most just mixture between dignity and submission." Such is the avowal of one who could not be supposed very favourable to the party; but whose better feelings were, for once, called into play during this remarkable scene.[367] The address of Lord Kilmarnock, however beautiful and touching in expression, will not, however, satisfy those who look for consistency in the most solemn moments of this chequered state of trial; but in perusing the summary of it, let it be remembered that he was a father; the father of those who had already suffered deeply for his adherence to Charles Edward; that he was the husband of a lady who, whatever may have been their differences, was at that awful hour still fondly beloved; that he dreaded penury for his children, an apprehension which those who remembered the fate of the Jacobites of 1715 might well recall; a dread, aggravated by his rank; a dread, the bitterness of which is indescribable; the temptations it offers unspeakably great. These considerations, far stronger than the fear of death, actuated Lord Kilmarnock. He arose, and a deep silence was procured, whilst he offered no justification of his conduct, "which had been," he said, "of too heinous a nature to be vindicated, and which any endeavour to excuse would rather aggravate than diminish." He declared himself ready to submit to the sentence which he was conscious that he had deserved. "Covered with confusion and grief, I throw myself at his Majesty's feet." He then appealed to the uniform honour of his life, previous to the insurrection, in evidence of his principles. "My sphere of action, indeed, was narrow; but as much as I could do in that sphere, it is well known, I have always exerted myself to the utmost in every part of his Majesty's service I had an opportunity to act in, from my first appearance in the world, to the time I was drawn into the crime, for which I now appeal before your Lordships." He referred to his conduct during the civil contest; to his endeavours to avert needless injury to his opponents; to his care of the prisoners, a plea which he yet allowed to be no atonement for the "blood he had been accessary to the spilling of. Neither," he said, "do I plead it as such, as at all in defence of my crime."