Meanwhile great preparations were being made in Edinburgh. The glorious news had thrown the Parliament and the Kirk into transports of delight. One thousand pounds and a chain of gold with a diamond clasp were at once voted to Strachan; the city bells were rung, bonfires lit, and a public thanksgiving decreed throughout the country. Macleod was rewarded partly in money and partly, it is said, by four hundred bolls of meal; he was also appointed by Sutherland captain of the garrison of Strathnaver. Of the prisoner's sentence there could be no question. The attainder passed on him in 1644 had never been repealed, and without the formality of a trial Parliament, with one voice, pronounced for death. But the manner of his death must be signal; and a committee was appointed to prepare plans for the ceremony as if for some national rejoicing. At four on the afternoon of May 10th Montrose was brought from Leith to the Water Gate at Holyrood, and handed over by the soldiers to the civil power. The orders of Parliament were read to him by the provost, in his robes of state, at the head of the chief magistrates of the city. He answered that he was ready to submit to them, regretting only to think that his master, whose commission he bore, should be dishonoured through him. The cruel pageant then began. Hurry, with the rest of the prisoners from Invercarron, came first, walking two and two in chains. A cart followed, driven by the common hangman of the city in the hideous livery of his office. In the cart was a high chair, and on the chair sat Montrose, bareheaded and tightly bound. The long ascent of the Canongate was crowded with people, mostly of the lowest class, whose minds had been artfully inflamed by the fierce eloquence of the pulpits to greet the enemy of their country and religion in a manner worthy of his crimes and the occasion. It was even secretly hoped that their greetings might not be confined to empty execration, and the prisoner's hands had been drawn behind his back that he might not defend his face. But the sad and shameful sight turned these rough hearts to pity. Many were even moved to tears to see with what serene and lofty composure this man, who had once known the height of glory, could now endure the extremity of disgrace. From the Water Gate to the Nether Bow only one voice was raised in scorn; the voice of a woman, of Jean, Countess of Haddington, the daughter of Huntly, the sister of Gordon. The wretched creature is even said to have spat upon her dead brother's friend as the cart passed below the balcony in which she sat. In the same balcony was Argyll, with a party of guests met to celebrate the marriage of his son Lorne to a daughter of the Earl of Moray. Either by accident or design the cart was halted at this point, and Montrose looked up. As his eyes met those of Argyll, the latter was seen to turn pale and shrink back from the window. An angry murmur rose from the crowd, and an English voice