What was I doing it for? I asked, as I went down the high Street

and out north by Leith Wynd. First I said it was to save James

Stewart; and no doubt the memory of his distress, and his wife's

cries, and a word or so I had let drop on that occasion worked upon

me strongly. At the same time I reflected that it was (or ought to

be) the most indifferent matter to my father's son, whether James

died in his bed or from a scaffold. He was Alan's cousin, to be

sure; but so far as regarded Alan, the best thing would be to lie

low, and let the King, and his Grace of Argyll, and the corbie

crows, pick the bones of his kinsman their own way. Nor could I

forget that, while we were all in the pot together, James had shown

no such particular anxiety whether for Alan or me.

Next it came upon me I was acting for the sake of justice: and I

thought that a fine word, and reasoned it out that (since we dwelt

in polities, at some discomfort to each one of us) the main thing

of all must still be justice, and the death of any innocent man a

wound upon the whole community. Next, again, it was the Accuser of

the Brethren that gave me a turn of his argument; bade me think

shame for pretending myself concerned in these high matters, and

told me I was but a prating vain child, who had spoken big words to

Rankeillor and to Stewart, and held myself bound upon my vanity to

make good that boastfulness. Nay, and he hit me with the other end

of the stick; for he accused me of a kind of artful cowardice,

going about at the expense of a little risk to purchase greater

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