 CHAPTER XVIII. GARDEN CREGS AND GLENFIN LESS Guided by Kerr, Murray led his followers over the Lanark Hills by the most untrodden paths, and hence avoided even the sight of a southern soldier. Cheered by so favorable a commencement of their expedition, they even felt notice-may when, in the gleam of the evening, Kerr described a body of armed man at a distance, sitting round a fire at the foot of a beatling rock, which guards the western entrance to the Cartland Greggs. Murray ordered his men to proceed under cover of the bushes, and then, making the signal, concerted in the case of such dilemma, they stuck their iron crows into the interstices of the cliff, and catching at the branches which grew out of its precipitous side with much exertion, but in perfect silence, at last gained the summit. They pursued their way with the same caution, till after a long margin without encountering a human being, they reached the base of the huge rock which Wallace had made his fortress. Kerr, who expected to find it surrounded by the English army, was amazed at the death-like solitude. The place is deserted, cried he. My brave friend, compelled by the extremity of his little garrison, has been obliged to surrender. We will ascend and see, was Murray's answer. Kerr led round the rock to the most accessible point, and, mounting by the projecting stones, was some difficulty gained the top. Silence pervaded every part, and the rugged cavities at the summit which had formed the temporary quarters of his comrades were lonely. On entering the recess, where Wallace used to seek a few minutes slumber, the moon which shone full into the cave, discovered something bright, lying in a distant corner. Kerr hastily approached it. Recollecting what means of escape, he would leave some weapon as a sign, a dagger, if necessary drove him to the south point, where he must fight his way through the valley, an arrow if he could affect it without observation by the north, as he should then seek an asylum for his exhausted followers in the far-off wilds of Glenfinluss. It was the iron head of an arrow which the moon had silvered, and Kerr, catching it up with a gliden countenance, exclaimed, He is safe! This calls us to Glenfinluss. He then explained to Murray what had been the arrangement of Wallace respecting this sign, and without hesitation the young lord decided to follow him up that track. Going toward the northern part of the cliff, they came to a spot beneath which had been the strongest guard of the enemy, but now, like the rest, it was entirely abandoned. A narrow winding path led from this rocky platform to a fall of water, rearing and rushing by the mouth of a large cavern. After they had descended the main craig, they clambered over the top of this cave, and entering upon another sweep of rugged hills commenced a rapid march. To verse in the lower part of Stirlingshire they crossed Graham's Dyke, and pursuing their course westward left Stirling Castle far to the right. They ascended the Orchill Hills, and proceeding along the wooded heights which overhang the banks of teeth, forwarded that river and entered at once into the broad valley which opened to them a distant view of Ben-Lomond and Ben-Leddy. Note, the great wall of Severus, which runs between Abercourt and Kirkpatrick, being attacked by the Scots at the time the Romans abandoned Britain, a huge breach was made in it by Graham, the uncle of the young king of Scots. By this achievement he conquered the whole of the country as far as the Chevyots, and the wall of Severus has since been called Graham's Dyke. 1809 Kirk's lane, Kirk, sending his hand toward the cloud-capped Leddy, beneath the shadow of that mountain we shall find the light of Scotland our dear master in arms. At this intimation the wearied Murrays, like seamen long harassed on a tempestuous ocean at sight of a port, uttered a shout of joy, and hastening forward with renovated strength met a foaming river in their path. Using all obstacles they rushed in, and buffeting the waves soon found a firm footing on the opposite shore. The sun shone cheerily above their heads, illuminating the unbridged sides of the mountains with a dewy splendor, while Ben-Leddy, the standard of their hope, seemed to wave them on, as the white cloud streamed from its summit, or rolling down its dark sides, floated in strange visionary shapes over the lakes beneath. When the little troop halted on the shore of Loch Venagwire, the mists which had lingered on the brow of Leddy slowly descended into the valley, and covering the mouth of the past that led from the Loch, seemed to shut them at once between the mountain and that world of waters. Kirk, who had never been in these tracks before, wondered at their sublimity, and became alarmed lest they should lose their way amid such infinite windings. But Murray, who remembered having once explored them with his father, led promptly forward by a steep, rough road in the side of the mountain. As they clung by the slippery rocks which overhung the lake, its mists dissolved into a heavy shower, and by degrees clearing away discovered the shining heads of Ben-Lomond and Ben-Chochin. The party soon entered a precipitous labour of the gregs, and passing onward gradually descended amid pouring torrents and gaping chasms, overlaced with branching trees, till the augmented roar of the waters intimated to Murray they drew near the great fall of Glenfinlass. The river, though rushing on its course with the noise of thunder, was scarcely discerned through the thick forest which groaned over its waves. Here towered a host of stately pines, and there the lofty beaches, birches, and mountain oak, bending over the flood, interwoven their giant arms, forming an arch so impenetrable that while the sun brightened the tops of the mountains, all beneath lay in deepest midnight. The awful entrance to the sublime valley struck the whole party with a feeling that made them pause. It seemed as if to these sacred solitudes hidden in the very bosom of Scotland. No hostile foot dared intrude. Murray looked at Kerr. We go, my friend, to arouse the genius of our country. Here are the native fastnesses of Scotland, and from this past the spirit will issue that is to bid her enslaved sons and daughters be free. They entered, and with beating hearts pursued their way along the western border of Loch Lubnegg, till the royal heights of Kregna Kohelig showed their summits, covered with heath and many an ivy turret. The forest stretching far over the valley lost its high trees in the shadows of the surrounding mountains, and told them they were now in the centre of Glenfinloss. Kerr put his bugle to his lips and sounded the peabroch of Ellersley. A thousand echoes returned the notes, and after a pause which allowed their last response to die away, the air was answered by a horn from the heights of Kregna Kohelig. An armed man then appeared on the rock leaning forward. Kerr drew near, and taking off his bonnet called aloud, Stephen, it is William Kerr who speaks. I come with the lord Andrew Murray of Bothwell, to the sport of our commander Sir William Wallace. At these words Stephen placed his bugle to his mouth, and in a few minutes the rock was covered with the members of its little garrison. Women and children appeared, shouting with joy, and the men descending the side near the glen hastened to bid their comrade welcome. One advanced toward Murray, whom he instantly recognised to be Sir Roger Kurtpactrick of Cartherald. The chief saluted each other, and lord Andrew pointed to his men. I have brought, said he, these few brave fellows to the aid of Sir William Wallace. They should have been more, but for new events of southern outrage. Yet I am impatient to lead them to the presence of my uncle's preserver. Kurtpactrick's answer disappointed the eager spirit of the young warrior. I am sorry, brave Murray, that you have no better night to receive you than myself. I and the gallant chief have not yet met. But I am in arms for him, and the hour of retribution for all our injuries I trust is at hand. But where Sir William Wallace demanded Murray? Gone toward the fourth derows that part of sleeping Scotland. If all he meet have my spirit they will not require a second call. Now is the time to aim the blow. I shall ever give thanks to the accident which brought me the welcome news that an arm is raised to strike at home. As he spoke he led Murray to the rampart-like cliffs which crown the summit of Craig Nehalig. In the midst stood a tower which had once been a favourite hunting lodge of the great King Fergus. There Kurtpactrick joyfully greeted his guest a second time. This, said he, is the far famed lodge of the three kings. Here did our lion Fergus, attended by his royal allies, durst us the picked, and deont us the Britain, spread his board during their huntings at Glenfinlass. And here, eight hundred years ago, did the same heroic prince form the plans which saved his kingdom from a foreign yoke. On the same spot we will lay ours, and in their completion rescue Scotland from a tyranny more intolerable than that which menaced him. Yes, Murray, there is not a stone in this building that does not call aloud to us to draw the sword, and hold it unsheathed till our country be free. And by the ghost of that same Fergus, I swear, exclaimed Murray, that my honest claymour shall never shroud its head while an invader be left alive in Scotland. Kurtpactrick caught him in his arms. Brave son of the noble Bothwell, thou art after my own heart! The blow which the dastard Cresingham durst aim at a Scottish chief still smarts upon my cheek, and rivers of his countrymen's blood shall wash out the stain. After I had been persuaded by his serpent eloquence to swear fealty to Edward on the defeat at Dunbar, I vainly thought that Scotland had only changed a weak and unfortunate prince for a wise and victorious king. But when, in the courts of Stirling, I heard Cresingham propose to the barons north of the Dyke, that they should give their strongest castles into English hands. When I opposed the measure with all the indignation of a scot who saw himself betrayed, he first tried to overturn my arguments. And finding that impossible, while I repeated them with redoubled force, he struck me. Powers of earth and heaven, what was then the tempest of my soul. I drew my sword. I would have laid him dead at my feet, had not my obsequious countrymen held my arm, and dragged me from the apartment. Covered with dishonour, by a blow I could not avenge. I fled to my brother-in-law, Sir John Scott, of Loch Dwyane. With him I buried my injury from the world. But it lived in my heart. It haunted me day and night, calling for revenge. In such an hour, how did I receive the tidings that Sir William Wallace was in arms against the tyrant? It was the voice of retribution calling me to peace of mind. Even my bed-ridden kinsmen partook my emotions. And with his zealous concurrence I led a band of his heartiest clansmen to reinforce the brave men of Lanark on this rock. Two days I have now been here, awaiting an anxious and patiencey arrival of Wallace. Yes, we will mingle our injured souls together. He has made one offering, I must make another. We shall set forth to Sterling and there, in the very heart of his den, I will sacrifice the tiger-cressing-ham to the vengeance of our wrongs. But what, my brave friend, asked Murray, are the forces you deem sufficient for so great an enterprise? How many fighting men may be counted of Wallace's own company besides your own? We have here about a hundred, replied Kirkpatrick, including yours. How inadequate to storm so formidable a place as Sterling Castle returned, Murray. Having indeed passed the Rubicon, we must go forward. But resolution, not rashness, should be the principle of our actions. And my opinion is, that if few minor advantages obtained, our countrymen would flock to our standard. The enemy would be intimidated, and we should carry thousands instead of hundreds before the walls of Sterling. Who attempt it now would invite defeat, and bring upon us the ruin of our entire project. You are right, young man, cried Kirkpatrick. My gray head, rendered impetuous by insult, did not pause on the blind temerity of my scheme. I would rather for years watch the opportunity of taking a signal revenge than not accomplish it at last. Oh, I would rather waste all my life in these solitary wilds, and know that at the close of it I should see the blood of Kressacum on these hands, than live a prince and die unrevenged. Stephen and Kerr now entered. The latter paid his respects to Sir Roger, and the former informed Murray that having disposed his present followers with those who had arrived before, he was come to lead their lord to some refreshment in the banqueting room of the tower. That cried Murray, full of glad amazement. Is it possible that my cousin's faithful band has reached its destination? None other belonging to Bothwell Castle had any chance of escaping its jailer's hands. Kirkpatrick interrupted Stephen's reply by saying that while their guests were at the board he would watch the arrival of certain expresses from two brave drubbans, each of whom was to send him a hundred men. So, my good lord, Andrew cried he, striking him on the shoulder, shall the snow launch gather that is to fall on Edward to his destruction. Murray heartily shared his zeal, and bidding him a short ado followed Stephen and Kerr into the hall. A haunch of venison of Glenfinlass smoked on the board, and goblets of wine from the bounties cellars of Sir John Scott brightened the hopes which glowed in every heart. While the young chieftains were recruiting their exhausted strength, Stephen sat at the table to satisfy the anxiety of Murray to know how the detachment from Bothwell had come to Craig-Nakohelig, and by what fortunate occurrence, or signal act of bravery, Wallace could have escaped with his whole train from the foe surrounding Cartland-Craigs. Heaven smiled on us, replied Stephen, the very evening of the day on which Kerr left us there was a carousel in the English camp. We heard the sound of the song and of riot, and of many an insult cast upon our besieged selves. But about an hour after sunset the noise sunk by degrees, a no insufficient hint that the revelers, overcome by excess, had fallen asleep. At this very time, owing to the heat of the day, so great a vapor had been exhaled from the lake beneath, that the whole of the northern side of the fortress cliff was covered with a mist so exceedingly thick we could not discern each other at a foot's distance. Now is the moment, said our gallant leader. The enemy are stupefied with wine. The rock is clothed in a veil. It is the shield of God that is held before us. Under its shelter let us pass from their hands. He called us together, and making the proper dispositions commanded the children and women on their lives to keep silence. He then led us to the top of the northern cliff. It overhung an obscure cave which he knew opened at its extremity. By the assistance of a rope held above by several men, a resolute chief twisting around one arm to steady him, and with the other catching by the projecting stones of the precipice, made his way down the rock, and was the first who descended. He stood at the bottom, enveloped in the cloud which shrouded the mountain, till all the man of the first division had cleared the height. He then marshaled them with their pikes toward the foe, in case of an alarm. But all remained quiet on that spot, although the sounds of voices both in song and laughter intimated that the utmost precaution was still necessary, as a wakeful and yet reveling part of the enemy were not far distant. Wallace reassended the rock halfway, and receiving the children which their trembling mothers lowered into his arms, he handed them to the old men, who carried them safely through the bushes which obscured the cave's mouth. The rest of our little garrison soon followed, then our sentinels receiving the signal that all were safe drew silently from their guard, and closed our march through the cavern. This affected, we blocked its aggressing mouth, that should our escape be discovered the enemy might not find the direct road we had taken. We pursued our course without stop or stay till we reached the hospitable valleys of Stirlingshire. There some kind shepherds gave the women and children temporary shelter, and Wallace, seeing that if anything were to be done for Scotland he must swell the host, put the part under my guidance, giving me orders that when they were rested I should march them to Glenfinloss, here to await his return. Selecting ten men with that small band he turned toward the fourth, hoping to meet some valiant friends in that part of the country, ready to embrace her cause. He had hardly been an hour departed when Doogled observed a procession of monks descending the opposite mountain. They drew near and halted in the Glen. A crowd of women from the neighbouring hills had followed the train, and were now gathering around a buyer which the monks set down. I know not by what happy fortune I came close to the leader of the procession, but he saw something in my old rough features that declared me an honest scot. And whispered he, for charity conduct us to some safe place where we may withdraw this buyer from the sacrilegious eye of curiosity. I made no hesitation, but desired the train to follow me into a buyer belonging to the good shepherd who was my host. On this motion the common people went away, and the monks entered the place. When the travellers threw up their hoods, which as mourners they had worn over their faces, I could not help exclaiming. Alas! for the glory of Scotland! That this goodly group of stout young men rather wear the cowl than the helmet. How, asked the principal, who did not appear to have seen thirty years, do we not pray for the glory of Scotland? Such is our weapon. True replied I, but while Moses prayed Joshua fought. God gives the means of glory that they should be used. But for what, old veteran, said the monk with a penetrating look, should we exchange our cowl for the helmet? Knowest thou anything of the Joshua who had lead us to the field? There was something in the young priest's eyes that seemed to contradict a specific words. They flashed as impetuous fire. My reply was short. Are you a scot? I am, in soul and in arms. Then knowest thou not the chief of Ellersley? As I spoke, for I stood close to the buyer, I perceived the Paul's shake. The monk answered my last question with an exclamation. You mean Sir William Wallace? Yes, I replied. The buyer shook more violently at these words, and with my hair bristling from my head, I saw the Paul hastily throw an off, and a beautiful youth in a shroud started from it, crying aloud. Then is our pilgrimage at an end? Lead us to him. The monk perceived my terror, and hastily exclaimed, Fear not, he is alive, and seeks Sir William Wallace. His pretended death was a stratagem to ensure our passage to the English army, for we are soldiers like yourself. As he spoke, he opened his grey habit, and showed me the nailed tartans beneath. What, then, interrupted Murray? These monks were my faithful clansmen? The same, replied Stephen. I assured them that they might now resume their own character. For all who inhabited the valley we were then in were true, though poor and aged scots. The young had long been drafted by Edward's agents to fight his battles abroad. Ah, interrupted the shrouded youth. Are we a people that can die for the honour of the Cicerper? And are we ignorant how to do it for our country? Lead us, soldier of Wallace, cried he, stepping resolutely on the ground. Lead us to your brave master, and tell him that a few determined men are come to shed their blood for him and Scotland. This astonishing youth, for he did not appear to be more than fifteen, stood before me in his robes of death, like the spirit of some bright-haired son of Fingal. I looked on him with admiration, and explaining our situation told him where their Wallace was gone, and of our destination to await him in the forest of Glenfinloss. While your brave clansmen were refreshing themselves, we learned from Kenneth, their conductor, that the troop left Bothwell under expectation of your soon-following them. They had well under expectation of our soon-following them. They had not proceeded far before their scouts perceived the outposts of the English which surrounded Cartland Craigs, and to avoid this danger they took a circuitous path in hopes of finding some at the western side of the Craigs. Kenneth knew the abbot, and entering it under covert of the night obtained permission for his men to rest there. The youth, now their companion, was a student in the church. He had been sent thither by his mother, a pious lady, in the hope that, as he is of a very gentle nature, he would attach himself to the sacred tauncher. But courage often springs with most strength in the softest frames. The moment this youth discovered our errand, he tried every persuasion to prevail on the abbot to permit him to accompany us. But his entreaties were vain. Till wrought up to vehement anger, he threatened, that if he were prevented joining Sir William Wallace, he would take the earliest opportunity to escape, and commit himself to the peril of the English pikes. Having him determined, the abbot granted his wish. And then it was, said Kenneth, that the youth seemed inspired. It was no longer an enthusiastic boy we saw before us, but an angel gifted with wisdom to direct an enterprise to lead us. It was he proposed disguising ourselves as a funeral procession, and while he painted his blooming countenance of a deathlike paleness, and stretched himself on this buyer, the abbot sent to the English army to request permission for a party of monks to cross the craigs to the Cave of St. Colombo in Sterlingshire, with it they carried a dead brother to be entombed. Our young leader hoped we might thus find an opportunity to apprise Wallace we were friends, and ready to swell the ranks of his little armament. On our entrance into the passes of the craigs continued Kenneth, the English captain there mentioned the fate of Bothwell, and the captivity of Lord Mar, and with very little courtesy to sons of the Church ordered the buyer to be opened, to see whether it did really contain a corpse or provisions for our besieged countrymen. We had certainly expected this investigation, else we might as well have wrapped the trunk of a tree in the shroud we carried as a human being. We knew that the superstitious hatred of the Southerns would not allow them to touch a Scottish corpse, and therefore we feared no detection from the eye's examination alone. This ceremony once over we expected to have passed on without further notice, and in that case the youth would have left his pawl, and performed the remainder of his journey in a similar disguise with the rest. But the strict watch of an English guard confined him wholly to the buyer. In hopes of atlast evading this vigilance, on pretense of a vow of the deceased that his bearish should perform a pilgrimage throughout the craigs, we traversed them in every direction. And I make no doubt, would have finally wearied out our guard and gained our point, had not the circumstance transpired of Wallace's escape. How he had affected it his enemies could not guess, not a man of the besiegers was missing from his post, and not an avenue appeared by which they could trace his flight. But gone he was, and with him his whole train. On this disappointment the southern captains retired to Glasgow, to their commander-in-chief, to give as good an account as they could of so disgraceful a termination of their siege. Dismayed at this intelligence our peculiar guard hurried us to Sterlingshire, and left us at the other side of the mountain. But even then we were not free to release our charge, for attracted by our procession the country people followed us into the valley. But had we not met with you, it was our design to throw off our disguises in the first place, and divided into small bands have severally sought Sir William Wallace. But where, Demet and Murray, who had listened with delighted astonishment to this recital, where is this admirable youth? Why, if Kenneth have learned I am arrived, does he not bring him to receive my thanks and friendship? It is my fault, returned Stephen, that Kenneth will not approach you till your past is over. I left him to see your followers properly refreshed, and for the youth he seems timid of appearing before you. Even his name I cannot make known to you till he reveals it himself. None know him here by any other name than that of Edwin. He has, however, granted to-morrow morning for the interview. I must submit to his determination, replied Murray. But I am at a loss to guess why so brave a creature should hesitate to meet me. I can only suppose he dislikes the idea of resigning the troop he has so well conducted, and if so, I shall think at my duty to yield its command to him. Indeed, he richly deserves that return, Stephen, for the very soul of Wallace seemed transfused into his breast as he cheered us through our long march from the valley to Glenford-Less. He played with the children, heartened up the women, and when the men were weary and lagged by the way he sat down on the near stones and sung to us legends of our ancestors till every nerf was braced with warlike emulation, and starting up we proceeded onward with resolution and even gaiety. When we arrived at Craig Nicole Hillig, as the women were in great want, I suddenly recollected that I had an old friend in their neighborhood. When a boy I had been the playfellow of Sir John Scott of Lock-Doing, and though I understood him to be now an invalid, I went to him. When I told my tale his brother-in-law, Sir Roger Kirk Patrick, took fire at my relation, and declared his determination to accompany me to Craig Nicole Hillig, and when he joined our band on the summit of this rock he took the children in his arms, and while he held their hands in his, vehemently addressed their mothers, let not these hands be baptized till they had been washed in the blood of our foe. As he belongs not to the enemy, now doomed to fall beneath their father's swords. Note, it was accustomed with Scottish chiefs when any feud existed between their families to leave the right hand of their children untouched by the holy water in baptism, as a sign that no law, even of heaven, should prevent them taking revenge. It is indeed a deadly contest, rejoined Murray, for evil has been the example of that foe. How many innocent bosoms have their steel pierced? How many helpless babes have their merciless hands dashed against the stones? Oh, ruthless war! Even a soldier trembles to contemplate thy horrors. Only till he can avenge them, cried a stern voice entering the apartment? It was Kirk Patrick's, and he proceeded. When vengeance is in our grasp, tell me, brave Murray, who will then tremble? Thus thou not feel retribution in thy own hands? Thus thou not see the tyrant's blood at thy feet? As he spoke he looked down with a horrid exultation in his eyes, and bursting into a more horrible laugh struck his hand several times on his heart. It glads me. I shall see it, and this arm shall assist to pull him down. His power in Scotland may fall, returned Murray, but Edward will be too careful of his life to come within reach of our steel. That may be rejoined, Kirk Patrick, but my dagger shall yet drink the blood of his agents. Crescingham shall feel my foot upon his neck. Crescingham shall see that hand torn from its wrist, which durst to violate the unselling cheek of a true Scotsman. Murray, I cannot live unrevenged. As he spoke he quitted the apartment, and with accountants of such tremendous fate that the young warrior doubted it was human. It spoke not the noble results of patriotism, but the pretentious malignity with which the great adversary of mankind discerns the ruins of nations. It seemed to wither the grass on which he moved, and Murray almost thought that the clouds darkened as the gloomy night issued from the porch into the open air. Kenneth Mackenzie joyfully entered the hall. Murray received him with a warm embrace, and soon after Stephen Ireland led the weary chieftain to a bed of freshly gathered heath, prepared for him in an upper chamber. Craig Nakahelig. Sleep, the gentle sister of that awful power which shrouds man in its cold bosom, and bears him and still repose to the blissful wakefulness of eternal life, sweet restorer, wraps him in her balmy embraces, and extracting from his weary limbs the effects of every toil, safely relinquishes the refreshed slumberer at mourn to the newborn vigour that is her gift, to the gladsome breezes which call us forth to labour and enjoyment. Such was the rest of the youthful Murray, till the shrill notes of a hundred bugles piercing his ear made him start. He listened, they sounded again. The morning had fully broke. He sprung from his couch, hurried on his armour, and snatching up his lance and target, issued from the tower. Several women were flying past the gate. On seeing him they exclaimed, the Lord Wallace has arrived, his bugles have sounded, our husbands are returned. Murray followed in their eager footsteps and reached the edge of the rock just as the brave group were ascending. A stranger was also there, who from his extreme youth and elegance he judged must be the young protector of his clansmen, but he forebore to address him until they should be presented to each other by Wallace himself. It was indeed the same. On hearing the first blast of the horn the youthful chieftain had hastened from his bed of heath and buckling on his brigantine rushed to the rock, but at the side of the noble figure which first gained the summit the young hero fell back. An indescribable awe checked his steps, and he stood at a distance, while Kirk Patrick welcomed the chief, and introduced Lord Andrew Murray. Wallace received a ladder with a glad smile, and taking him warmly by the hand, gallant Murray, said he, with such assistance I hope to reinstate your brave uncle in Bothwell Castle, and soon to cut a passage to even a mightier rescue. We must carry off Scotland from the tyrant's arms, or, he added in a graver tone, wish I'll only rivet her chains the closer. I am but of poor auxiliary, returned Murray. My troop is a scanty one, for it is my own gathering. It is not my father's nor my uncle's strength that I bring along with me. But there is one here, continuity, who has preserved a party of men, sent by my cousin Lady Helen Marr, almost double my numbers. At this reference to the youthful warrior, Sir Roger Kirk Patrick discerned him at a distance, and hastened toward him, while Murray briefly related to Wallace the extraordinary conduct of this unknown. On being told that the chief waited to receive him, the youth hastened forward with the trepidation he had never felt before, but it was a trepidation that did not subtract from his own worth. It was the timidity of a noble heart, which believed it approached one of the most perfect among mortals, and while its anxious pulse beat to emulate such merit, a generous consciousness of measureless inferiority embarrassed him with a confusion so amiable that Wallace, who perceived his extreme youth and emotion, opened his arms and embraced him. Brave youth, cried he, I trust that the power which blesses our cause will enable me to return you with many a well-earned glory to the bosom of your family. Edwin was encouraged by the frank address of a hero whom he expected to have found reserved, and wrapped in the deep glooms of the fate which had browsed him to be a thunderbolt of heaven. But when he saw a benign, though pale countenance, hail him with smiles, he made a strong effort to shake off the yaw which the name and the dignity of figure and mean of Wallace had oppressed him. And with a mantling blush he replied, My family are worthy of your esteem. My father is brave, but my mother, fearing for me, her favourite son, prevailed on him to put me into a monastery. Dreading the power of the English, even there she allowed none but the abbot to know who I was. And as she chose to hide my name, and I have burst from my concealment without her knowledge till I do something worthy of that name and deserving her pardon, permit me, noble Wallace, to follow in your footsteps by the simple appellation of Edwin. Noble Boy, returned the chief, your wish shall be respected. We urge you no further to reveal what such innate bravery must shortly proclaim in the most honourable manner. The whole of the troop having ascended, while their wives, children and friends were rejoicing in their embraces, Wallace asked some questions relative to Bothwell, and Murray briefly related the disasters which had happened to there. My father, added he, is still with the Earl of La Cah, and thither I sent to request him to dispatch to the Cartland Craigs all the followers he took with him into Argyleshire. But as things are, would it not be well to send a second messenger to say that you have sought refuge in Glenfinless? Before he could arrive, returned Wallace, I hope we shall be where Lord Bothwell's reinforcements may reach us by water. Our present object must be the Earl of Marr. He is the first Scottish Earl who has hazarded his estates and life for Scotland, and as her best friend, his liberation must be our first enterprise. On my circuit through two or three eastern counties a promising increase has been made to our little army. The fraisures of Oliver Castle have given me two hundred men, and the brave Sir Alexander Scrimgeor, whom I met in West Lothian, has not only brought fifty stout Scots to my command, but as hereditary standard-bearer of the kingdom has come himself to carry the royal banner of Scotland to glory or oblivion. To glory, cried Murray, waving his sword, O, not while a scot survives, shall that blood-red lion again lick the dust. No! cried Kirkpatrick, his eyes flashing fire. Rather may every scot and every southern fall in the struggle and fill one grave. Let me, cried he, sternly grasping the hilt of his sword and looking upward. Let me, O Saviour of mankind, live but to see the forth and the Clyde, so often reddened with our blood, die the eastern and the western oceans with the vital flood of these our foes, and when none is spared, then let me die in peace. The eyes of Wallace glanced on the young Edwin, who stood gazing on Kirkpatrick, and turning on the night with a powerful look of apprehension, check that prayer, cried he, remember, my brave companion, what the Saviour of mankind was, and then think whether he who offered life to all the world will listen to so damning an invocation. If we would be blessed in the contest we must be merciful. To whom, exclaimed Kirkpatrick, to the robbers who tear us from our lands, to the roughians who rest from us our honours, but you are patient, you never received a blow. Yes, cried Wallace, turning paler, a heavy one, on my heart. True, returned Kirkpatrick, your wife fell dead under the steel of a southern governor, and you slew him for it. You were revenged, your feelings were appeased. Not the death of fifty thousand governors, replied Wallace, could appease my feelings. Revenge were insufficient to satisfy the yearnings of my soul. For a moment he covered his agitated features with his hand, and then proceeded, I slew Hessell Riga because he was a monster, under whom the earth groaned. My sorrow, deep as it was, was but one of many, which his rapacity and his nephews' licentiousness the whole nation without reserve. When the sword of war is drawn all who resist must conquer or fall, but there are some noble English who abhor the tyranny they are obliged to exercise over us, and when they declare such remorse shall they not find mercy at our hands? Surely, if not for humanities, for policy's sake, we ought to give quarter, for it is the exterminating sword, if not always victorious, incurs the ruin it threatens, even hope, that by our righteous cause and our clemency we shall not only gather our own people to our legions, but turn the hearts of the poor Welsh and the misled Irish, whom the usurper has forced into his armies, and so confront him with troops of his own levying. Many of the English were too just to share in the subjugation of the country they had sworn to befriend, and their less honourable countrymen, when they see Scotsmen no longer consenting to their own degradation, may take shame to themselves for assisting to betray so confiding a people. That may be, returned Kirkpatrick, but surely you would not rank em or de Valens, who lords it over Dumbarton and Cressium, who acts as tyrant in Stirling, you would not rank him amongst these conscientious English? No, replied Wallace, the haughty oppression of the one and the want and cruelty of the other have given Scotland too many wounds for me to hold a shield before them, meet them, and I leave them to your sword. And by heavens, cried Kirkpatrick, gnashing his teeth with the fury of a tiger, they shall know its point. Wallace then informed his friends that he purposed marching next morning by daybreak toward Dumbarton Castle. When we make the attack, said he, it must be in the night, for I propose seizing it by storm. Harry and Kirkpatrick joyfully acquiesced. Edwin smiled an enraptured assent, and Wallace, with many a gracious look and speech, disengaged himself from the clinging embraces of the weaker part of the garrison, who, seeing in him the spring of their husband's might and the guard of their own safety, clung to him as to a presiding deity. You, my dear country-women, said he, shall find a home for your aged parents, your children and yourselves, with the venerable Sir John Scott of Loch Doine. You are to be conducted thither this evening, and there await in comfort the happy return of your husbands, whom Providence now leads forth to be the champions of your country. Filled with enthusiasm, the women uttered a shout of triumph, and embracing their husbands, declared they were ready to resign them wholly to heaven and Sir William Wallace. Wallace left them with these tender relatives, from whom they were so soon depart, and retired with his chieftains to arrange the plan of his proposed attack. Delighted with the glory which seemed to wave to him from the pinnacles of Dumbarton Rock, Edwin listened in profound silence to all that was said, and then hastened to his quarters to prepare his armor for the ensuing morning. CHAPTER XXXI of the Scottish Chiefs. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Scottish Chiefs by Miss Jane Porter. CHAPTER XXXI. The Cliffs of Locke Lubnag. In the cool of the evening, while the young chieftain was thus employed, Kenneth entered to tell him that Sir William Wallace had called out his little army, to see its strength and numbers. Edwin's soul had become not more enamoured of the panoply of war than the gracious smiles of his admired leader, and at this intelligence he threw his plans over his brigandine, and placing a swan-plumed bonnet on his brows, hastened forth to meet his general. The heights of Craig Necoheilig echoed with thronging footsteps, and a glittering light seemed issuing from her woods as the rays of the descending sun glanced on the arms of her assembling warriors. The thirty followers of Murray appeared just as the two hundred Frazier's entered from an opening in the rocks. Blood mounted into his face as he compared his inferior numbers and recollected the obligation they were to repay, and the greater one he was now going to incur. However, he threw the standard worked by Helen on his shoulder, and turning to Wallace, Behold! cried he, pointing to his men, the poor man's might. It is great for it is my all. Great indeed, brave Murray! returned Wallace, for it brings me a host in yourself. I will not disgrace my standard, said he, lowering the banner-staff to Wallace. He started when he saw the flowing Locke, which he could not help recognizing. This is my betrothed, continued Murray, and bled their tone. I have sworn to take her for better or for worse, and I pledge you my truth nothing but death shall part us. Wallace grasped his hand. And I pledge you mine, that the head whence it drew shall be laid low before I suffer so generous a defender to be separated, dead or alive from the standard. His eyes glanced at the empress. Thou art right, continued he. God dust goeth with the confidence of success to embrace victory as a bride. No, I am only the bridegroom's man, replied Murray, gaily moving off. I shall be content with a kiss or two from the handmaids, and leave the lady for my general. Happy, happy youth! said Wallace to himself, as his eyes pursued the agile footsteps of the young chieftain. No conquering affection has yet thrown open thy heart. No deadly injury hath lacerated it with words incurable. Patriotism is a virgin passion in thy breast, and innocent and joy wait upon her. We just muster five hundred men, observed Kerr to Wallace, but they are all stout and hard as in condition, and ready even tonight if ye will it to commence their march. No, replied Wallace, we must not overstrain the generous spirit, let them rest tonight, and to-morrow's dawn shall light us through the forest. Kerr, who acted as henchmen to Wallace, now returned to the ranks to give the word, and they marched forward. Sir Alexander Scrimgeor, with his golden standard charged with the line of Scotland, led the van. Wallace raised his bonnet from his head as it drew near. Scrimgeor lowered the staff. Wallace threw up his outstretched hand at this action, but the night not understanding him he stepped forward. Sir Alexander Scrimgeor, cried he, that standard must not bow to me. It represents the royalty of Scotland before which we fight for our liberties. If virtue yet dwell in the house of the valiant St. David, some of his offspring will hear of this day, and lead it forward to conquest and to a crown. Till such an hour, let not that standard bend to any man. Wallace fell back as he spoke, and Scrimgeor, bowing his head in sign of acquiescence, marched on. Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, at the head of his well-appointed Highlanders, next advanced. His blood-red banner streamed to the air, and as it bent to Wallace he saw that the indignant night had adopted the device of the hardy King Achaus, but with a fiercer model, touch and pierce. That man, thought Wallace as he passed along, carried a relentless sword in his very eye. The men of Loch Doin, a strong, tall and well-armed body, marched on, and gave place to the advancing corps of Bothwell. The eye of Wallace felt as if turning from gloom and horror to the cheerful light of day, when it fell on the bright and ingenuous face of Murray. Death with his troop followed, and the youthful Edwin, like Cupid in arms, closed the procession. Being drawn up in line, their chief, fully satisfied, advanced toward them, and expressing his sentiments of the patriotism which brought them into the field, informed them of his intended march. He then turned to Stephen Ireland. The sun has now set, said he, and before dark you must conduct the families of my worthy lannarchment to the protection of Sir John Scott. It is time that age, infancy, and female weakness should cease their wanderings with us. Tonight we bid them adieu, to meet them again, by the leading of the Lord of Hosts in freedom and prosperity. As Wallace ceased, and was retiring from the ground, several old men, and young women with their babies in their arms, rushed from behind the ranks, and throwing themselves at his feet, caught hold of his hands and garments. We go, said the venerable Fathers, to pray for your welfare, and sure are we, a crown will bless our country's benefactor, here or in heaven. In heaven, replied Wallace, shaking the plumes of his bonnet over his eyes, to hide the moisture which diffused them, I can have no right to any other crown. Yes, cried a hoary-headed shepherd, you free your country from tyrants, and the people's hearts will proclaim their deliverer their sovereign. May your rightful monarch, worthy patriarch, said Wallace, whether a Bruce or a Belial, meet with Equal Zeal from Scotland at large, and tyranny must then fall before courage and loyalty. The women wept as they clung to his hand, and the daughter of Ireland, holding up her child in her arms, presented it to him. Look on my son, cried she, with energy. The first word he speaks shall be Wallace, the second liberty. And every drop of milk he draws from my bosom shall be turned into blood to nerve a conquering arm, or to flow for his country. At this speech all the women held up their children toward him. Here, cried they, we devote them to heaven and to our country. Adopt them, noble Wallace, to be thy followers in arms, when perhaps their fathers are laid low. Unable to speak, Wallace pressed their little faces separately to his lips. Then, returning them to their mothers, laid his hand on his art, and answered in an agitated voice, they are mine. My wheel shall be theirs, my well my own. As he spoke he hurried from the weeping group, and emerging amid the cliffs hid himself from their tears in their blessing. He threw himself on a shelving rock, whose fern-covered bosom projected over the winding waters of Lucklubnag, and, having stilled his own anguished recollections, he turned his full eyes on the lake beneath, and while he contemplated its serene surface, he sighed, and thought how tranquil was nature, till the rebellious passions of men, wearying of innocent joys, disturbed all by restlessness and invasion on the peace and happiness of others. The mists of evening hung on the gigantic tops of Ben Lottie and Ben Vorlich, then sailing forward by degrees obscured the whole of the mountains, leaving nothing for the eye to dwell on but the long silent expanse of waters below. So said he, did I once believe myself forever shut in from the world by an obscurity that promised me happiness as well as seclusion? But the hours of illersly are gone. No tender wife will now twine her faithful arms round my neck. Alas, the angel that sunk my country's wrongs to a dreamy forgetfulness in her arms, she was to be immolated that I might awake. My wife, my unborn babe, they must both bleed for Scotland, and the sacrifice shall not be yielded in vain. No, blessed God! cried he, stretching his clasped hands toward my countrymen to liberty and happiness. Let me counsel with thy wisdom, let me conquer with thine arm, and when all is finished give me, O gracious Father, a quiet grave beside my wife and child. Tears, the first he had shed since the hour in which he last pressed his Marian to his heart, now flowed copiously from his eyes. The women, the children, had aroused all his recollections, but in so softened a train that they melted his heart till he wept. Is it thy just tribute, Marian? he said he. It was blood you said for me, and shall I check these poor drops? Look on me, sweet saint, best beloved of my soul. Oh, hover near me in the day of battle, and thousands of thine and Scotland's enemies shall fall before thy husband's arm. The plaintive voice of the Highland Pipe at this moment broke upon his ear. It was the farewell of the patriarch Lindsay, as he and his departing company descended the winding paths of Craig Knack O'Haleyg. Wallace started on his feet. The separation had then taken place between his trusty followers and their families, and guessing the feelings of those brave men from what was passing in his own breast, he dried away the traces of his tears, and once more, resuming the warrior's cheerful look, sought that part of the rock where the Lenarchmen were quartered. As he drew near, he saw some standing on the cliff and others leaning over, to catch another glimpse of the departing group ere it was lost him in the shades of Glen Finless. Are they quite gone, he estougled. Quite, answered a young man, who seemed to have got the most advantageous situation for a view. Then cried he, May St. Andrew keep them until we meet again. May a greater than St. Andrew hear thy prayer, ejaculated Wallace. At the sound of this response from their chief they all turned round. My brave companion, said he, I come to repay this hour's pangs by telling you that, in the attack of Dumbarton, you shall have the honour of first mounting the walls. I shall be at your head to sign each brave soldier with a patriot seal of honour. To follow you, my lord, said Dugald, is our duty. I grant it, replied the chief, and as I am the leader in that duty, it is mine to dispense to every man his reward, to prove to all men that virtue alone is true nobility. Ah, dearest sir, exclaimed Edwin, who had been assisting the women to carry their infants down the steep, and on re-ascending heard the latter part of this conversation, deprive me not of the aim of my life. These warriors have had you long, have distinguished themselves in your eyes. Deprive me not, then, of the advantages of being near you. It will make me doubly brave. Oh, my dear commander, let me only carry to the grave the consciousness that, next to yourself, I was the first to mount the rock of Dumbarton, and you will make me noble indeed. Wallace looked at him with a smile of such graciousness that the youth threw himself into his arms. You will grant my boon? I will, noble boy, said he, act up to your sentiments, and you shall be my brother. Calming by that name cried Edwin, and I will dare anything. Then be the first to follow me on the rock, said he, and I will lead you to an honour the highest in my life. You shall unloose the chains of the Earl of Mar. And ye, continued he, commemorate the duty of such sons. Being the first to strike the blow for her freedom, ye shall be the first she will distinguish. But now I speak as her minister, and as a badge to times in memorial, I bid you wear the Scottish lion on your shields. A shout of proud joy issued from every heart, and Wallace, seeing that honour had dried the tears of regret, left them to repose. He sent Edwin to his rest, and himself, avoiding the other chieftains, retired to his own chamber in the tower. CHAPTER XXI The Rosy Dawn shone in at the window, and a fresh breeze wooed him with its inspiring breath to rise and meet it. But the impulse was in his own mind. He needed nothing outward to call him to action. Rising immediately he put on his glittering halberk, and issuing from the tower raised his bugle to his lips, and blew so rousing a blast that in an instant the whole rock was covered with soldiers. Wallace placed his helmet on his head, and advanced toward them, just as Edwin had joined him, and Sir Roger Kirk Patrick appeared from the tower. "'Blessed be this morn,' cried the old knight. "'My sword springs from its scabber to meet it, and ere its good steel besheathed again,' continued he, shaking it sternly. "'What deaths may die its point!' Wallace shuttered at the ferocity with which his colleague contemplated this feature of war, from which every humane soldier would seek to turn his thoughts, that he might encounter it with the steadiness of a man, and not the irresolution of a woman. To hail the field of blood with the fierceness of a hatred eager for the slaughter of its victim, to know any joy in combat but that each contest might render another less necessary, did not enter into the imagination of Wallace, until he had heard and seen the infuriated Kirk Patrick. He talked of the coming battle with the horrid rapture, and told a young Edwin he should that day see Loch Lomond red with English blood. Offended at such savageness, but without answering him, Wallace drew toward Murray, and calling to Edwin ordered him to march at his side. The youth seemed glad of the summons, and Wallace was pleased to observe it, as he thought that a longer stay with one who so grossly overcharged the feelings of honest patriotism might breed disgust in his innocent mind against a cause which had so furious and therefore unjust a defender. "'Justice and mercy ever dwell together,' said he to Edwin, who now drew near him, for universal love is the parent of justice, as well as of mercy. But implacable revenge, whence did she spring but from the head of Satan himself?' Though their cause appeared the same, never were two spirits more discordant than those of Wallace and Kirk Patrick. But Kirk Patrick did not so soon discover the dissimilarity, as it is easier for purity to describe its opposite than for foulness to apprehend that anything can be purer than itself. The forces being marshaled according to the pre-concerted order, the three commanders, with Wallace at their head, led forward. They passed through the forests of Glenfinless, and morning and evening still found them threading its unsuspected solitudes in unmolested security. Night, too, watched their onward march. The sun had just risen as the little band of patriots, the hope of freedom, emerged upon the eastern bank of Loch Lomond. The bases of the mountains were yet covered with the dispersing mist of the morning, and hardly distinguishable from the blue waters of the lake, which last the shore. The newly awakened sheep, bleeded from the hills, and the umbrageous herbage, dropping dew, seemed glittering with a thousand fairy-gems. Where is the man who would not fight for such a country? exclaimed Murray, as he stepped over a bridge of interwoven trees which crossed one of the mountain streams. This land was not made for slaves. Look at these bulwarks of nature! Every mountain-head which forms this chain of hills is an impregnable rampart against invasion. If Balliol had possessed but half a heart, Edward might have returned even worse than Caesar, without a cockle to decorate his helmet. Balliol has found the oblivion he incurred, returned Wallace. His son, perhaps, may better deserve the scepter of such a country. Let us cut the way, and he who merits the crown will soon appear to claim it. Then it will not be Edward Balliol, returned Scrimgeor. During the inconsistent reign of his father I once carried a dispatch to him from Scotland. He was then banqueting in all the luxuries of the English court, and such a voluptuary I never beheld. I left the scene of Folly, only praying the so effeminate of Prince might never disgrace the throne of our manly race of kings. If such be the tuition of our lords in the court of Edward, and wise is the policy for his own views, observed Kier, what can we expect from even the Bruce? They were ever a nobler race than the Balliol, but bad education and luxury will debase the most princely minds. I saw neither of the Bruce when I visited London, replied Scrimgeor. The Earl of Carrick was at his house in Cleveland, and Robert Bruce, his eldest son, with the English army in Guine. But they bore a manly character, particularly young Robert, to whom the troubadours of Aquitaine have given the flattering appellation of Prince of Chivalry. It would be more to his honour, interrupted Murray, if he compelled the English to acknowledge him as Prince of Scotland. With so much bravery, how can he allow such a civic cat as Edward Balliol to bear away the title, which is his by the double right of blood and virtue? Perhaps said Wallace, the young lion only sleeps. The time may come when both he and his father will rise from their lethargy and throw themselves at once into the arms of Scotland. To stimulate the dormant patriotism of these two princes, by showing them a subject leading their people to liberty, is one great end of the victories I seek. None other than a brave king can bind the various interests of this distracted country into one, and therefore, for freedom's sake, my heart turns toward the Bruce's with most anxious hopes. For my part, cried Murray, I have always thought the lady we will not woo we have no right to pretend to. If the Bruce's will not be at pains to snatch Scotland from drowning, I see no reason for making them a present of what will cost us many a wet jacket before we tug her from the waves. He that wins the day ought to wear the laurel, and so once for all I proclaim him king of good old Albin, who will have the glory of driving her oppressors beyond her dykes. Wallace did not hear this last sentiment of Murray's, as it was spoken in a lowered voice in the ear of Kirkpatrick. I perfectly agree with you, was the night's reply, and in the true Roman style may the death of every Sutheran now in Scotland, and as many more as fate chooses to yield us, be the preliminary games of his coronation. Wallace who heard this turned to Kirkpatrick with a mild rebut in his eye. Balum blessed when he meant to curse, said he, but some curse when they mean to bless. Such prayers are blasphemy. For can we expect victory on our arms when all our invocations are for vengeance rather than victory? Blood for blood is only justice, returned Murray, and how can you, noble Wallace, as a Scot and as a man, imply any mercy to the villains who stab us to the heart? I plead not for them, replied Wallace, but for the poor wretches who follow their leaders by force to the field of Scotland. I would not inflict on them the cruelties we now resent. It is not to agree but to redress that we carry arms. If we make not this distinction, we turn courage into a crime, and plant disgrace instead of honour upon the warrior's brow. I do not understand commiserating the wolves who have so long made havoc in our country, cried Kirkpatrick. Me think such a maidenly mercy is rather out of place. Wallace turned to him with a smile. I will answer you, my valiant friend, by adopting your own figure. It is that these southern wolves may not confound us with themselves, that I wish to show in our conduct rather the generous ardour of the faithful guardian of the fold, than the rapacious fierceness which equals them with the beasts of the desert. As we are men and Scots, let the burden of our prayers be, the preservation of our country, not the slaughter of our enemies. The one is an ambition with which angels may sympathise. The other a horrible desire which speaks the nature of fiends. In some cases this may be, replied Sir Roger, a little reconciled to the argument, but not in mine. My injury yet burns upon my cheek, and as nothing with the life blood of Cressingham can quench it, I will listen no more to your doctrine till I am avenged. That done I shall not forget your lesson. Generous Kirkpatrick, exclaimed Wallace, nothing that is really cruel can dwell with such manly candor. Say what you will. I can trust your heart after this moment. They had crossed the river Innerie, and were issuing from between its narrow ridge of hills, when Wallace, pointing to a stupendous rock which rose in solitary magnificence in the midst of a vast plain, exclaimed, There is Dumbarton Castle. That citadel holds the fetters of Scotland, and if we break them there every minor link will easily give way. The men uttered a shout of anticipated triumph at this site, and proceeding soon came in view of the fortifications which helmeted the rock. As they approached they discovered that it had two summits, being in a manner cleft in twain, the one side rising in a pyramidical form, while the other, of a more table shape, sustained the ponderous buildings of the fortress. It was dusk when the little army arrived in the rear of a close thicket to a considerable length over the plain. On this spot Wallace rested his men, and while they placed themselves under its covert till the appointed time of attack, he perceived through an opening in the wood the gleaming of soldiers' arms on the ramparts, and fires beginning to light on a lonely watchtower which crowned the pinnacle of the highest rock. Poor fools, exclaimed Murray, like the rest of their brethren of clay, they look abroad for evils, and prepare not for those which are even at their doors. That beacon-fire, cried Scrimgeor, shall light us to their chambers, and for once we can thank them for their providence. That beacon-fire, whispered Edwin to Wallace, shall light me to honour. Tonight by your agreement I shall call you brother, or lie dead on the summit of those walls. Edwin, said Wallace, act as you say, and deserve not only to be called my brother, but to be the first banner out of freedom in arms. He then turned toward the lines, and giving his orders to each division, directed them to seek repose on the surrounding heather, till the now glowing moon should have sunk her tell-tale light in the waves. End of CHAPTER XXI. All obeyed the voice of their commander, and retired to rest. But the eyes of Edwin could not close. His eager spirit was already on the walls of Dumbarton. His rapid mind anticipated the ascent of his general and his troop. But an imagination no less just than ardent suggested the difficulties attending so small a force assailing so formidable a garrison, without some immediate knowledge of its relative situations. A sudden thought struck him. He would mount that rock alone. He would seek to ascertain the place of Lord Marr's confinement, that not one life in Wallace's faithful band might be lost in a vague search. Ah, my general, exclaimed he, Edwin shall be the first to spring those ramparts. He shall tread that dangerous path alone, and when he has thus proved himself no unworthy of thy confidence, he will return to lead thee and thy soldiers to assure victory, and himself to honor by thy side. This fervent apostrophe, breathed to the night alone, was no sooner uttered than he stole from the thicket into which he had cast himself to repose. He looked toward the embattled cliff. Its summit stood bright in the moonlight, but deep shadows lay beneath. God be my speed, cried he, and wrapping himself in his plaid, so mixed its dark hues with the weeds and herbage at the base of the rock that he made its circuit without having attracted observation. The south side seemed to be the easiest of ascent, and by that he began his daring attempt. Having gained the height, he clamored behind a buttress, the shadow of which cast the wall into such black obscurity that he crept safely through one of its crannels, and dropping gently inward, alighted on his feet. Still keeping the shadowed side of the battlements, he proceeded cautiously along, and so still was his motion that he passed undiscovered, even by the sentinels who guarded this quarter of the fortress. He soon arrived at the open square before the citadel. It was yet occupied by groups of southern officers, gaily walking to and fro under the light of the moon. In hopes of gaining some useful information from their discourse, he concealed himself behind a chest of arrows, and as they passed backward and forward, distinctly heard them jesting each other about diverse, fair dames of the country around. The conversation terminated in a debate, whether or no the indifference which their governor de Valence manifested to the majestic beauties of the Countess of Mar were real or assumed. A thousand free remarks were made on the subject, and Edwin gathered sufficient from their discourse to understand that the Earl and Countess were treated severely, and confined in a large square tower in the cleft of the rock. Having learned all that he could expect from these officers, he speeded under the friendly shadow toward the other side of the citadel, and arrived just as the guard approached to relieve the sentinels of the northern position. He laid himself close to the ground, and happily overheard the word of the night, as it was given to the new watch. This providential circumstances saved his life. Taking no motive egress from this place but by the postern at which the sentinel was stationed, or by attempting a passage through a small adjoining tower, the door of which stood open, he considered a moment, and then deciding for the tower stole unobserved into it. Fortunately no person was there, but Edwin found it full of spare arms, with two or three vacant couches in different corners, where he supposed the officers on guard occasionally were posed. Several watch-cloaks lay on the floor. He readily apprehended the use he might make of this circumstance, and throwing one of them over his shoulders he climbed to a large embrasure in the wall, and, forcing himself through it, dropped to a declivity on the other side, which shelled down to the cliff wherein he saw the square tower. He had scarcely alighted on firm ground when a sentinel, followed by two others presenting pikes, approached him and demanded the word. Mottjoy was his reply. Why leap the embrasure, said one, why not enter by the posterne, demanded another. The conversation of the officers had given him a hint, on which he had formed his answer. Love, my brave comrades, replied he, seldom chooses even ways. I go on a message from a young ensign in the keep, to one of the Scottish damsels in Yonder Tower. Delay me, and his vengeance will fall upon us all. Good luck to you, my lad, was their answer, and with a lightened step he hastened toward the tower. Not deeming it safe to seek an interview with any of the Earl's family, he crept along the base of the structure and across the works, till he reached the high wall that blocks up egress from the north. He found this formidable curtain constructed of fragments of rock, and for the convenience of the guard a sloping platform from within led to the door of the wall. On the other side it was perpendicular. A solitary sentinel stood there, and how to pass him was Edwin's next device. To attack him would be desperate, being one of a chain of guards around the interior of the fortress, his voice need only to be raised in the least to call a regiment to his assistance, and Edwin might be seized on the instant. Aware of his danger, but not dismayed, the adventurous youth bethought him of his former excuse, and remembering a flask of spirits which Ireland had put into his pouch on leaving Glenfinlis, he effected to be intoxicated, and staggering up to the man accosted him in the character of a servant of the garrison. The sentinel did not doubt the appearance of the boy, and Edwin, holding out the flask, said that a pretty girl in the great tower had not only given him a long draught of the same good liquor, but had filled his bottle, that he might not lack amusement, while her companion, one of Lady Mar's maids in waiting, was tying up a true lover's knot to send to his master in the garrison. The man believed Edwin's tale, and the more readily as he thrust the flask into his hand and bat him drink. Do not spare it, cried he, the night is chilly, and I shall get more where that came from. The unsuspecting southern returned him a merry reply, and putting the flask to his head soon drained its contents. They had the effect Edwin desired. The soldier became flustered, and impatient of his duty. Edwin perceived it, and yawning, complained of drowsiness. I would go to the top of that wall, and sleep sweetly in the moon-beams, said he, if any good-natured fellow would meanwhile wait for my pretty scot. The half-anebriated stutheran liked no better sport, and regardless of duty he promised to draw nearer the tower, and bring from the fair messenger the expected token. Having thus far gained his point, with an apparently staggering but really agile step, Edwin ascended the wall. A leap from this dizzy height was his only way to rejoin Wallace. To retread his steps through the fortress in safety would hardly be possible, and besides, such a motive retreat would leave him uninformed on the second object of his enterprise, to know the most vulnerable side of the fortress. He threw himself along the summit of the wall as if to sleep. He looked down, and saw nothing but the blackest of space, for here the broad expanse of shadow rendered rocks and building of the same hewn level. But hope buoyed him in her arms, and turning his eyes toward the sentinel he observed him to have arrived within a few paces of the square tower. This was Edwin's moment. Grasping the projecting stone of the embattlement, and commending himself to heaven, he threw himself from its summit, and fell a fearful depth to the cliffs beneath. Meanwhile, Wallace, having seen his brave followers depart to their repose, reclined himself along a pile of moss-grown stones, which in the days of the renowned Fingal had covered the body of some valiant Morvan chieftain. He fixed his wakeful eyes on the castle, now illuminated in every part by the fullness of the moon's luster, and considered which point would be most assailable by the scaling ladders he had prepared. Every side seemed to precipice, the leaven surrounding it on the north and the west, the Clyde broad as a sea on the south. The only place that seemed at all accessible was the side next to the dike behind which he lay. Here the ascent to the casillated part of the rock, because most perpendicular was the least guarded with outworks, and by this he determined to make the attempt as soon as the setting moon should involve the garrison in darkness. While he yet mused on what might be the momentous consequences of the succeeding midnight hours, he thought he heard a swift, though cautious, footstep. He raised himself, and laying his hands on his sword, saw a figure advancing toward him. "'Who goes there?' demanded Wallace. "'A faithful scot,' was the reply. "'Wallace recognized the voice of Edwin. What has disturbed you? Why do you not take rest with the others?' "'That we may have at the shore to-morrow,' replied the youth. "'I am just returned from the summit of Yonder Rock. "'How,' interrupted Wallace, "'have you scaled it alone and are returned in safety?' "'Wallace caught him in his arms. Intrepid, glorious boy! Tell me, for what purpose did you thus hazard your precious life?' "'I wish to learn his most-pregnable part,' replied Edwin, his young heart beating with triumph at these ecomiums from his commander, and particularly where the good earl is confined, that we might make our attack directly to the point. "'And have you been successful?' demanded Wallace. "'I have,' was his answer. "'Lord Maher and his lady are kept in a square tower, which stands in the cleft between the two summits of the Rock. It is not only surrounded by embattled walls, which flank the ponderous bustresses of this huge dungeon, but the space on which it stands is bulwarked at each end by a stone curtain of fifteen feet high, guarded by turrets full of armed men. "'And yet by that side you suppose we must ascend?' said Wallace. "'Certainly, for if you attempted on the west we should have to scale the watchtower cliff, and the ascent could only be gained in file. An auxiliary detachment to attack in flank might succeed there, but the passage being so narrow would be too tedious for the whole party to arrive in time. Should we take the south, we must cut through the whole garrison before we could reach the earl. And on this side the morass lies too near the foot of the Rock to admit an approach without the greatest danger. But on the north, where I descended, by wading through part of the Leven, and climbing from cliff to cliff, I have every hope you might succeed.' Edwin recounted the particulars of his progress through the Fortress, and by the minuteness of his topographical descriptions enforced his arguments for the north to be the point assailed. Closing his narrative he explained to the anxious inquiry of Wallace how he had escaped accident in a leap of so many feet. The wall was covered with ivy, he caught by its branches in his descent, and at last happily fell amongst a thick bed of furs. After this he clambered down the steep, and, forting the Leven, there only knee-deep, now appeared before his general, elate in heart and bright in valor. The intrepidity of this action returned Wallace, glowing with admiration at so noble a daring and so young a creature, merits that every confidence should be placed on the result of your observations. Your safe return is a pledge of our design being approved. And when we go in the strength of heaven, who can doubt the issue? This night, when the Lord of battles puts that fortress into our hands, before the whole of our little army you shall receive that knighthood you have so richly deserved. Such, my truly dear brother, my noble Edwin, shall be the reward of your virtue and your toil. Wallace would now have sent him to repose himself, but animated by the success of his adventure, and exulting in the honor which was so soon to stamp a sign of this exploit upon him forever, he told his leader that he felt in a want of sleep, and would rather take on him the office of arousing the other captains to their stations, the moon, their preconcerted signal, being then approaching its rest. CHAPTER XXIII The Fortress Kurt Patrick, Murray, and Scrimgeor hastened to their commander, and in a few minutes all were under arms. Wallace briefly explained his altered plan of assault, and marshalling his men accordingly, led them in silence through the water, and along the beach, which lay between the rock and the leaven. Arriving at the base, just as the moon set, they began to ascend. To do this in the dark redoubled the difficulty, but as Wallace had the place of every accessible stone accurately described to him by Edwin, he went confidently forward, followed by his Lanark men. He and they, being the first to mount, fixed and held the tops of the scaling ladders, while Kurt Patrick and Scrimgeor, with their men, gradually ascended, and gained the bottom of the wall. Here, planting themselves in the crannies of the rock, under the impenetrable darkness of the night, for the moon had not only set, but the stars were obscured by clouds. They awaited the signal for the final ascent. Meanwhile, Edwin led Lord Andrew with his followers, and the Fraser men, round by the western side, to mount the watchtower rock, and seized the few soldiers who kept the beacon. As the signal of having succeeded, they were to smother the flame on the top of the tower, and thence descend toward the garrison to meet Wallace before the prison of the Earl of Marr. While the men of Lanark, with their eyes fixed on the burning beacon, in deadly stillness, watched the appointed signal for the attack, Wallace, by the aid of his dagger, which he struck into the firm soil that occupied the cracks in the rock, drew himself up almost parallel with the top of the Great Wall, which clasped the bases of the two hills. He listened. Not a voice was to be heard in the garrison of all the legions he had so lately seen glittering on the battlements. It was an awful pause. Now was the moment when Scotland was to make her first essay for freedom. Should it fail, ten thousand bolts of iron would be added to her chains. Should it succeed, liberty and happiness were the almost certain consequences. He looked up, and fixing his eyes on the beacon flame, thought he saw the figures of men pass before it. The next moment all was darkness. He sprung on the walls, and, feeling by the touch of hands about his feet that his brave followers had already mounted their ladders, he grasped his sword firmly and leaped down on the ground within. In that moment he struck against the sentinel who was just passing, and by the violence of the shock struck him to the earth. But the man, as he fell, catching Wallace round the waist, dragged him after him, and with a vociferous cry shouted, Treason! Several sentinels ran with leveled pikes to the spot. The adjacent turrets emptied themselves of their armed inhabitants and all assaulted Wallace, just as he had extricated himself from the grasp of the prostrate soldier. Who are you, demanded they? Your enemy and the speaker fell at his feet with one stroke of his sword. Alarm! Treason! resounded from the rest as they aimed their random strokes at the conquering chief. But he was now assisted by the vigorous army of Kerr and of several Lenarchmen, who, having cleared the wall, were dealing about blows in the darkness, which filled the air with groans, and strewed the ground with the dying and the dead. One or two Southrons, whose courage was not equal to their caution, fled to arouse the garrison, and just as the whole of Wallace's men leaped the wall and rallied to his support, the inner ballium gate burst open, and a legion of foes, bearing torches, issued to the contest. With horrible threatenings they came on, and by a rapid movement surrounded Wallace and his little company. But his soul brightened in danger, and his men, warmed with the same spirit, stood firm with fixed pikes, receiving without injury the assault. Their weapons being longer than their enemies, the Southrons, not aware of the circumstances, rushed upon their points, incurring the death they meant to give. Seeing their consequent disorder, Wallace ordered the pikes to be dropped, and his men to charge sword in hand. Terrible was now the havoc for the desperate Scots, grappling each to his foe with a fatal hold. Let not go till the piercing shriek, or the agonized groan, convinced him that death had seized its victim. Wallace fought in front, making a dreadful passage through the falling ranks, while the tremendous sweep of his sword, flashing in the intermittent light, warned the survivors where the avenging blade would next descend. A horrid vacuity was made in the lately thronged spot. It seemed not the slaughter of a mortal arm, but as if the destroying angel himself were there, and with one blast of his desolating brand had laid all in ruin. The platform was cleared, and the fallen torches, some half extinguished, and other, flaming on the ground by the sides of the dead, showed, in their uncertain gleams, a few terrified wretches seeking safely in flight. The same lurid rays, casting a transitory light on the iron gratings of the Great Tower, informed Wallace that the heat of conflict had drawn him to the prison of the Earl. "'We are now near the end of this night's work,' cried he. "'Let us press forward to give freedom to the Earl of Marr.' "'Liberty and Lord Marr!' cried Kirkpatrick, rushing onward. He was immediately followed by his own men, but not quickly enough for his daring. The guard in the tower, hearing the outcry, issued from the flanking gates, and, surrounding him, took him prisoner. "'If there be might in your arms,' roared he, with the voice of a lion, "'Men of Lachdeon, rescue your leader!' They hurried forward with yells of defiance. But the strength of the garrison, awakened by the flying wretches from the defeat, figured out all its power, and with defiance at their head, poured on Kirkpatrick's men, and would have overpowered them, had not Wallace and his sixty heroes, with desperate determination, cut a passage to them through the closing ranks. Pikes struck against courselets, swords rang on helmets, and the ponderous battle-axe, falling with the weight of fate, cleft the uplifted target in twain. Blood spouted on every side, and the dripping hands of Kirkpatrick, as Wallace tore him from the enemy, proclaimed that he had bathed his vengeance in the stream. On being released he shook his ensanguine arms and burst into a horrid laugh. The work speeds now through the heart of the governor. Even while he spoke, Wallace lost him again from his side. And again, by the shouts of the Southrons, who cried, No quarter for the rebel, he learned he must be retaken. That merciless cry was the death-bell of their own doom. It directed Wallace to the spot. And throwing himself and his brethren of Lunark into the midst of the band, which held the prisoner, Kirkpatrick was again rescued. But thousands seemed now to surround the chief himself. To do this generous deed, he had advanced further than he ought, and himself and his brave followers must have been slain had he not recoiled. And covering their rear with the great tower, all who had the hardyhood to approach fell under the weight of the Scottish Claymore. Scrimjure at the head of the Lachdion men, in vain, attempted to reach this contending party. And fearful of losing the royal standard, he was turning to make a valiant retreat, when Murray and Edwin, having disengaged their followers from the precipices of the Beacon Rock, rushed into the fray, striking their shields and uttering the inspiring slogan of Wallace and Freedom! It was re-echoed by every Scott. Those that were flying returned. They who sustained the conflict hailed the cry with braced sinews, and the terrible thunder of the word, peeling from rank to rank, struck a terror into devalence's men, which made them pause. The extinction of the Beacon made them still more aghast. On that short moment turned the crisis of their fate. Wallace cut his way forward to the dismayed Southrons, who, bearing the reiterated shouts of the fresh reinforcements, knew not whether its strength might not be thousands instead of hundreds. And panic stricken, they became an easy prey to their enemies. Surrounded, mixed with their assailants, they knew not friends from foes, and each individual being bent on flight, they indiscriminately cut to right and left, wounding as many of their own men as of the Scots. And finally, after slaughtering half their companions, some few escaped through the small posterans of the garrison, leaving the inner ballia entirely in possession of the foe. The whole of the field being cleared, Wallace ordered the tower to be forced. A strong guard was still within, and as the assailants drew near, every means was used to render their assaults abortive. As the Scots pressed to the main entrance, stones and heavy metals were thrown upon their heads, but not in the least intimidated, they stood beneath the iron shower till Wallace ordered them to drive a large felled tree which lay on the ground against the hinges of the door. It burst open, and the whole party rushed into the hall. A short, sanguinary, but decisive conflict took place. The howbert and plaid of Wallace were died from head to foot. His own brave blood, in the ferocious stream from his enemies, mingled in one horrid hue upon his garments. Wallace! Wallace! cried the stentorian lungs of Kirk Patrick. In a moment Wallace was at his side, and found him wrestling with two men. The light of a single lamp, suspended from the rafters, fell direct upon the combatants. A dagger was pointed at the life of the old knight, but Wallace laid the holder of it dead across the body of his intended victim, and catching the other assailant by the throat, threw him prostrate to the ground. Spare me for the honour of knighthood! cried the conquered. For my honour you shall die! cried Kirk Patrick. His sword was already at the heart of the Englishman. Wallace beat it back. Kirk Patrick, he is my prisoner, and I give him life. You know not what you do! cried the old knight, struggling with Wallace to release his sword-arm. This is de Vélance! Quarter reiterated the panting in hard-pressed earl. Noble Wallace, my life, for I am wounded! Sooner take my own! cried the determined Kirk Patrick, fixing his foot on the neck of the prostrate man, and trying to wrench his hand from the grasp of his commander. Shame! cried Wallace! You must strike through me to kill any wounded man I hear cry for quarter. Release the earl for your own honour. Our safety lies in his destruction! cried Kirk Patrick, and bragged at opposition he thrust his commander, little expecting such an action, from off the body of the earl. De Vélance seized his advantage in catching Kirk Patrick by the limb that pressed on him, overthrew him, and by a sudden spring, turning quickly on Wallace, struck his dagger into his side. All this was done in an instant. Wallace did not fall but, staggering, with the weapon sticking in the wound, he was so surprised by the baseness of the deed, he could not give the alarm till its perpetrator had disappeared. The flying earl took his course through a narrow passage between the works, and, proceeding swiftly toward the south, he issued safely at one of the outer ballyum gates, that part of the castle being now solitary, all the men having been drawn from the walls to the contest within, and thence he made his escape in a fishers boat across the Clyde. Meanwhile Wallace, having recovered himself, just as the Scots brought in lighted torches from the lower apartments of the tower, saw Sir Roger Kirk Patrick, leaning sternly on his blood-dripping sword, and the young Edwin coming forward in garments, too nearly the hue of his own. And Rumeri stood already by his side. Wallace's hand was upon the hilt of the dagger, which the ungrateful devalence had left in his breast. You are wounded, you are slain, cried Murray, in a voice of consternation. Edwin stood motionless with horror. That dagger, exclaimed Scrimgeor, has done nothing, replied Wallace, but led a little more blood, as he spoke he drew it out, and thrusting the corner of his scarf into his bosom, staunched the wound. So is your mercy rewarded, exclaimed Kirk Patrick. So am I true to a soldier's duty, returned Wallace, though devalence is a traitor to his. You treated him as a man, replied Kirk Patrick, but now you find him a treacherous fiend. Your eagerness, my brave friend, returned Wallace, has lost him as a prisoner. If not for humanity or honour, for policy's sake, we ought to have spared his life, and detained him as an hostage for our countrymen in England. Kirk Patrick remembered how his violence had released the Earl, and he looked down, abashed. Wallace, perceiving it, continued, but let us not abuse our time discoursing on a coward. He has gone, the fortress is ours, and our first measure must be to guard it from surprise. As he spoke, his eyes fell upon Edwin, who, having recovered from the shock of Murray's exclamation, had brought forward the surgeon of their little band. A few minutes bound up the wounds of their chief, even while beckoning the anxious boy towards him. Brave youth, cried he, you, at the imminent risk of your own life, explored these heights that you might render our assent more sure. You who have fought like a young lion in this unequal contest, here in the face of all your valiant comrades, receive that knighthood which rather derives luster from your virtues than gives additional consequence to your name. With a bounding heart, Edwin bent his knee, and Wallace giving him the hallowed accolade, the young knight rose from his position with all the roses of his springing fame glowing in his countenance. Scrimgeur presented him the nightly girdle, which he unbraced from his own loins, and while the happy boy received the sword to which it was attached, he exclaimed, with animation, while I follow the example before my eyes, I shall never draw this in an unjust cause, nor ever sheath it in a just one. Go then, returned Wallace, smiling his approval at this sentiment. While work is to be done, I will keep my knight to the toil, go, and with twenty men of Lenarch guard the wall by which we ascended. Edwin disappeared, and Wallace, having dispatched detachments to occupy other parts of the garrison, took a torch in his hand, and, turning to Murray, proposed seeking the Earl of Marr. Lord Andrew was soon at the iron door which led from the hall to the principal stairs. We must have our friendly battering ram here, cried he. A close prisoner do they indeed keep my uncle when even the inner doors are bolted on him. The men dragged the tree forward, and striking it against the iron, it burst open with the noise of thunder. Shrieks from within followed the sound. The women of Lady Marr, not knowing what to suppose during the uproar of the conflict, now hearing the door forced, nothing less than that some new enemies were advancing, and giving themselves up to despair, they flew into the room where the Countess sat in equal though less clamorous terror. At the shouts of the Scots, when they began the attack, the Earl had started from his couch. That is not peace, said he. There is some surprise. Alas, from whom returned Lady Marr, who would venture to attack a fortress like this, garrisoned with thousands, the cry was repeated. It is the slogan of Sir William Wallace, cried he. I shall be free, oh for a sword, here, here! As the shouts redoubled, and mingled with the various clangers of battle drew nearer the tower, the impatience of the Earl could not be restrained. Hope and eagerness seemed to have dried up his wounds, and new strung every nerve, while unarmed as he was he rushed from the apartment, and hurried down the stairs which led to the iron door. He found it so firmly fastened by bars and padlocks he could not move it. Again he ascended to a terrified wife, who, conscious how little obligation Wallace owed to her, perhaps dreaded even more to see her husband's hopes realized than to find herself yet more rigidly the prisoner of the haughty devilance. Joana, cried he, the arm of God is with us. My prayers are heard. Scotland will yet be free. Hear those groans, those shouts, victory, victory! As he thus echoed the cry of triumph uttered by the Scots when bursting open the outer gate of the tower, the foundations of the building shook, and Lady Marr, almost insensible with terror, received the exhausted body of her husband into her arms. He fainted from the transport his weakened frame was unable to bear. Soon after this the stair door was forced, and the panic struck women wrench shrieking into the room to their mistress. The Countess could not speak, but sat pale and motionless, supporting her head on her bosom. Guided by the noise, Lord Andrew flew into the room, and rushing toward his uncle, fell at his feet. Liberty, liberty was all he could say. His words pierced the ear of the earl like a voice from heaven. And looking up without a word he threw his arms around the neck of his nephew. Tears relieved the contending feelings of the Countess and the women, recognizing the young Lord of Bothwell, retired into a distant corner, well assured they had now no cause for fear. The earl rested but a moment on the panting breast of his nephew. When gazing around, to seek the mighty leader of the band, he saw Wallace enter with a step of security and triumph in his eyes. Ever, my deliverer, cried the venerable Marr, stretching forth his arms. The next instant he held Wallace to his breast, and remembering all that he had lost for his sake since they parted, a soldier's heart melted, and he burst into tears. Wallace, my preserver, thou victim for Scotland, and for me, or rather, thou chosen of heaven, who by the sacrifice of all thou didst hold dear on earth, art made a blessing to thy country, receive my thanks into my heart. Wallace felt all in his soul which the earl meant to imply, but recovered the calmed tone of his mind before he was released from the embrace of his friend, and when he raised himself and replied to the acknowledgments of the Countess, it was with a serene, though glowing, countenance. She, when she had glanced from the eager entrance and action of her nephew to the advancing hero, looked as Venus did when she beheld the God of war rise from the field of blood. She started at the appearance of Wallace. But it was not his garments dropping gore, nor the blood-stained falchion in his hand that caused the new sensation. It was the figure breathing youth and manhood. It was the face where every noble passion of the heart had stamped themselves on his perfect features. It was his air where majesty and sweet entrancing grace mingled in manly union. They were all these that struck at once upon the sight of Lady Mar and made her exclaim within herself. This is a wonder of man. This is the hero that is to humble Edward to bless whom was her thought. Oh, no woman, let him be a creature enshrined in holy, for no female heart to dare to love. This passed through the mind of the Countess in less time than it has been repeated. And when she saw him, clasped in her husband's arms, she exclaimed to herself, Helen, thou work right, that gratitude was prophetic of a matchless subject, while I, wretched that I was, even whispered the wish to my traitorous heart, while I gave information against my husband that this man, the cause of all, might be secured or slain. Just as the last idea struck her, Wallace rose from the embrace of his venerable friend and met the riveted eye of the Countess. She stammered forth a few expressions of obligation. He attributed her confusion to the surprise of the moment, and, replying to her respectfully, turned again to the earl. The joy of the venerable chief was unbounded when he found that a handful of Scots had put two thousand Southrons to flight, and gained entire possession of the castle. Wallace, having satisfied the anxious questions of his noble auditor, gladly perceived the morning light, he rose from his seat. I shall take a temporary leave of you, my lord, said he to the earl. I must now visit my brave comrades at their posts, and see the colors of Scotland planted on the Citadel.