Their surprise at his escape was therefore extreme.

The other followers of Ramorny took heart, and advanced to take the oath with a boldness which increased as one by one they performed the ordeal, and were declared, by the voice of the judges, free and innocent of every suspicion attaching to them on account of the death of Oliver Proudfute.
But there was one individual who did not partake that increasing confidence.

The name of "Bonthron--Bonthron!" sounded three times through the aisles of the church; but he who owned it acknowledged the call no otherwise than by a sort of shuffling motion with his feet, as if he had been suddenly affected with a fit of the palsy.
"Speak, dog," whispered Eviot, "or prepare for a dog's death!" But the murderer's brain was so much disturbed by the sight before him, that the judges, beholding his deportment, doubted whether to ordain him to be dragged before the bier or to pronounce judgment in default; and it was not until he was asked for the last time whether he would submit to the ordeal, that he answered, with his usual brevity: "I will not; what do I know what juggling tricks may be practised to take a poor man's life?
I offer the combat to any man who says I harmed that dead body." And, according to usual form, he threw his glove upon the floor of the church.
Henry Smith stepped forward, amidst the murmured applauses of his fellow citizens, which even the august presence could not entirely suppress; and, lifting the ruffian's glove, which he placed in his bonnet, laid down his own in the usual form, as a gage of battle.

But Bonthron raised it not.
"He is no match for me," growled the savage, "nor fit to lift my glove.
I follow the Prince of Scotland, in attending on his master of horse.
This fellow is a wretched mechanic." Here the Prince interrupted him.

"Thou follow me, caitiff! I discharge thee from my service on the spot.