"Three months have hardly elapsed since the fatal battle of Dunbar, where, indignant at the accumulated outrages committed on their passive monarch, our irritated nobles at last rose, but too late, to assert their rights. Alas! one defeat drove them to despair. Baliol was taken, and themselves obliged to again swear fealty to their enemy. Then came the seizure of the treasures of our monasteries, the burning of the national records, the sequestration of our property, the banishment of our chiefs, the violation of our women, and the slavery or murder of the poor people yoked to the land. 'The storm of desolation, thus raging over our country; how,' cried the young warrior to me, 'can any of her sons shrink from the glory of again attempting her restoration?' He then informed me that Earl de Warenne (whom Edward had left lord warden of Scotland), was taken ill, and retired to London, leaving Aymer de Valence to be his deputy. To this new tyrant, De Warenne has lately sent a host of mercenaries, to hold the south of Scotland in subjection; and to reinforce Cressingham and Ormsby, two noted plunderers, who command northward, from Stirling to the shores of Sutherland.

"With these representations of the conduct of our oppressors, the brave knight demonstrated the facility with which invaders, drunk with power, and gorged with rapine, could be vanquished by a resolute and hardy people. The absence of Edward, who is now abroad, increases the probability of success. The knight's design is to infuse his own spirit into the bosoms of the chiefs in this part of the kingdom. By their assistance, to seize the fortresses in the Lowlands, and so form a chain of repulsion against the admission of fresh troops from England. Then, while other chiefs (to whom he means to apply) rise in the Highlands, the Southron garrisons there, being unsupported by supplies, must become an easy prey, and would yield men of consequence, to be exchanged for our countrymen, now prisoners in England. For the present, he wishes to be furnished with troops merely enough to take some castle, of power sufficient to give confidence to his friends. On his becoming master of such a place, it should be the signal for all to declare themselves; and, rising at once, overwhelm Edward's garrisons in every part of Scotland.

"This is the knight's plan; and for your sake, as well as for the cause. I hope the first fortress he gains may be that of Dumbarton. It has been always considered the key of the country."

"May Heaven grant it, holy father," returned Helen, "and whoever this knight may be, I pray the blessed St. Andrew to guide his arms!"

"If I may venture to guess who he is," replied the hermit, "I would say that noble brow was formed to some day wear a crown."

"What!" cried Helen, starting, "you think this knight is the royal Bruce?"

"I am at a loss what to think," replied the hermit; "he has a most princely air; and there is such an overflowing of soul toward his country, when he speaks of it, that—Such love can spring from no other than the royal heart, created to foster and to bless it."

"But is he not too young?" inquired Helen. "I have heard my father say that Bruce, Lord of Annandale, the opponent of Baliol for the crown, was much his senior; and that his son, the Earl of Carrick, must be now fifty years of age. This knight, if I am any judge of looks, cannot be twenty-five."

"True," answered the hermit; "and yet he may be a Bruce. For it is neither of the two you have mentioned that I mean; but the grandson of the one, and the son of the other. You may see by this silver beard, lady, that the winter of my life is far spent. The elder Bruce, Robert, Lord of Annandale, was my contemporary; we were boys together, and educated at the same college in Icolmkill. He was brave, and passed his manhood in visiting different courts; at last, marrying a lady of the princely house of Clare, he took her to France, and confided his only son to be brought up under the renowned St. Louis. This young Robert took the cross while quite a youth; and carrying the banner of the holy King of France to the plains of Palestine, covered himself with glory. In storming a Saracen fortress, he rescued the person of Prince Edward of England. The horrible tyrant, who now tramples on all laws, human and divine, was then in the bloom of youth, defending the cause of Christianity! Think on that, sweet lady, and marvel at the changing power of ambition!

"From that hour a strict friendship subsisted between the two young crusaders; and when Edward mounted the throne of England, it being then the ally of Scotland, the old Earl of Annandale, to please his brave son, took up his residence at the English court. When the male issue of our King David failed in the untimely death of Alexander III., then came the contention between Bruce and Baliol for the vacant crown. Our most venerable chiefs, the guardians of our laws, and the witnesses of the parliamentary settlement made on the house of Bruce during the reign of the late king, all declared for Lord Annandale. He was not only the male heir in propinquity of blood, but his experienced years and known virtues excited all true Scots to place him on the throne.

"Meanwhile Edward, forgetting friendship to his friend, and fidelity to a faithful ally, was undermining the interest of Bruce, and the peace of the kingdom. Inferior rivals to our favorite to our favorite prince were soon discountenanced; but by covert ways, with bribes and promises, the King of England raised such a opposition on the side of Baliol, as threatened a civil war. Secure in his right, and averse to plunging his country in blood, Bruce easily fell in with a proposal insidiously hinted to him by one of Edward's creatures-'to require that monarch to be umpire between him and Baliol.' Then it was that Edward, after soliciting the requisition as an honor to be conferred on him, declared it was his right as supreme lord of Scotland. The Earl of Annandale refused to acknowledge this assumption. Baliol bowed to it; and for such obedience, the unrighteous judge gave him the crown. Bruce absolutely refused to acknowledge the justice of this decision; and so to avoid the power of the king who had betrayed his rights, and the jealousy of the other who had usurped them, he immediately left the scene of action, going over seas, to join his son, who had been cajoled away to Paris. But, alas! he died on the road of a broken heart.

"When his son Robert (who was Earl of Carrick in right of his wife) returned to Britain, he, like his father, disdained to acknowledge Baliol as king. But being more incensed at his successful rival, than at the treachery of his false friend Edward, he believed his glossing speeches; and-by what infatuation I cannot tell-established his residence at the monarch's court. This forgetfulness of his royal blood, and of the independence of Scotland, has nearly obliterated him from every Scottish heart; for, when we look at Bruce the courtier, we cease to remember Bruce the descendant of St. David-Bruce the valiant knight of the Cross, who bled for true liberty before the walls of Jerusalem.

"His eldest son may be now about the age of the young knight who has just left us; and when I look on his royal port, and listen to the patriotic fervors of his royal soul, I cannot but think that the spirit of his noble grandsire has revived in his breast, and that, leaving his indolent father to the vassal luxuries of Edward's palace, he is come hither in secret, to arouse Scotland, and to assert his claim."

"It is very likely," rejoined Helen, deeply sighing; "and may Heaven reward his virtue with the crown of his ancestors."

"To that end," replied the Hermit, "shall my hands be lifted up in prayer day and night. May I, O gracious Power!" cried he, looking upward, and pressing the cross to his breast, "live but to see that hero victorious, and Scotland free, and then 'let thy servant depart in peace, since mine eyes will have seen her salvation!'"

"Her salvation, father?" said Helen, timidly. "Is not that too sacred a word to apply to anything, however dear, that relates to earth?"

She blushed as she spoke; and fearful of having too daringly objected, looked down as she awaited his answer. The hermit observed her attentively; and, with a benign smile, replied, "Earth and heaven are the work of the Creator. He careth alike for angel and for man; and therefore nothing that he has made is too mean to be the object of his salvation. The word is comprehensive; in one sense it may signify our redemption from sin and death by the coming of the Lord of Life into this world; and in another, it intimates the different means b which Providence decrees the ultimate happiness of men. Happiness can only be found in virtue; virtue cannot exit without liberty; and the seat of liberty is good laws! Hence when Scotland is again made free, the bonds of the tyrant who corrupts her principles with temptations, or compels her to iniquity by threats, are broken. Again the honest peasant may cultivate his lands in security, the liberal hand feed the hungry, and industry spread smiling plenty through all ranks; every man to whom his Maker hath given talents, let them be one or five, may apply them to their use; and, by eating the bread of peaceful labor, rear families to virtuous action and the worship of God. The nobles, meanwhile, looking alone to the legislation of Heaven and to the laws of Scotland, which alike demand justice and mercy from all, will live the fathers of their country, teaching her brave sons that the only homage which does not debase a man, is that which he pays to virtue and to God.

"This it is to be free; this it is to be virtuous; this it is to be happy; this it is to live the life of righteousness, and to die in the hope of immortal glory. Say then, dear daughter, if, in praying for the liberty of Scotland, I said too much in calling it her salvation?"

"Forgive me, father," cried Helen, overcome with shame at having questioned him.

"Forgive you what?" returned he. "I love the holy zeal which is jealous of allowing objects, dear even to your wishes, to encroach on the sanctuary of heaven. Be ever thus, meek child of the church, and no human idol will be able to usurp that part of your virgin heart which belongs to God."

Helen blushed.

"My heart, reverend father," returned she, "has but one wish-the liberty of Scotland; and, with that, the safety of my father and his brave deliverers."

"Sir William Wallace I never have seen," rejoined the hermit; "but, when he was quite a youth, I heard of his graceful victories in the mimic war of the jousts at Berwick, when Edward first marched into this country under the mask of friendship. From what you have said, I do not doubt his being a worthy supporter of Bruce. However, dear daughter, as it is only a suspicion of mine that this knight is that young prince, for his safety, and for the sake of the cause, we must not let that name escape our lips; no, not even to your relations when you rejoin them, nor to the youth whom his humanity put under my protection. Till he reveals his own secret, for us to divulge it would be folly and dishonor."

Helen bowed acquiescence; and the hermit proceeded to inform her who the youth was whom the stranger had left to be her page.

In addition to what the knight had himself told her of Walter Hay, the unfortunate shepherd boy of the ruined hut, her venerable host narrated that the young warrior having quitted the holy cell after his first appearance there, soon returned with the wounded youth, whom he had found. He committed him to the care of the hermit, promising to revisit him on his way from the south, and take the recovered Walter under his own protection. "He then left us," continued the old man, "but soon reappeared with you; showing, in the strongest language, that he who, in spite of every danger, succors the sons and daughters of violated Scotland, is proclaimed by the Spirit of Heaven to be her future deliverer and king."

As he ended speaking, he rose; and taking Helen by the hand, led her into an inner excavation of the rock, where a bed of dried leaves lay on the ground. "Here, gentle lady," said he, "I leave you to repose. In the evening I expect a lay brother from St. Oran's Monastery, and he will be your messenger to the friends you may wish to rejoin. At present, may gentlest seraphs guard your slumbers!"

Helen, fatigued in spirit and in body, thanked the good hermit for his care; and bowing to his blessing, he left her to repose.

Chapter XVIII.

Cartlane Craigs, and Glenfinlass.



Guided by Ker, Murray led his followers over the Lanark Hills, by the most untrodden paths; and hence avoided even the sight of a Southron soldier.

Cheered by so favourable a commencement of their expedition, they even felt no dismay when, in the gloom of the evening, Ker descried a body of armed men at a distance, sitting round a fire at the foot of a beetling rock which guards the western entrance to the Cartlane Craigs. Murray ordered his men to proceed under covert of the bushes; and then making the signal (concerted in 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. That effected, they pursued their way with the same caution, till after a long march, and without encountering a human being, they reached the base of the huge rock which Wallace had made his fortress.

Ker, who expected to find it surrounded by the English army, was amazed at the deathlike 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.

Ker led round the rock to the most accessible point; and, mounting by the projecting stones, with 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. Ker hastily approached it, recollecting what means of escape, he would leave some weapon as a sign; a dagger, if necessity drove him to the south point, where he must fight his way through the valley; an arrow, if he could effect it without observation, by the north, as he should then seek an asylum for his exhausted followers in the far-of wilds of Glenfinlass.

It was the iron head of an arrow which the moon had silvered; and Ker, catching it up, with a gladdened countenance exclaimed, "He is safe! this calls us to Glenfinlass." 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.

Turning toward the northern part of the cliff, they came to 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.

Traversing the lower part of Stirlingshire, they crossed Graham's Dike;** and pursuing their course westward, left Stirling Castle far to the right. They ascended the Ochil Hills, and proceeding along the wooded heights which overhang the banks of Teith, forded that river, and entered at once into the broad valley which opened to them a distant view of Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi.

**The great wall of Severus, which runs between Abercorn and Kirkpatrick, being attacked by the Scotts at the time the Romans abandoned Britain, a huge breach was made in it by Graham (or Greame), the uncle of the young king of Scots. By this achievement he conquered the whole of the country as far as the Cheviots, and the wall of Severus has since been called Graham's Dike-(1809.)

"There," exclaimed Ker, extending his hand toward the cloud-capped Ledi, "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. Despising 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 umbrageous sides of the mountains with a dewy splendor, while Ben Ledi, the standard of their hope, seemed to wave them on, as the white clouds 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 Venachoir, the mists which had lingered on the brow of Ledi slowly descended into the valley; and covering the mouth of the pass that led from the loch, seemed to shut them at once between the mountain and that world of waters. Ker, 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 Chochan.

The party soon entered a precipitous labyrinth of craigs; and, passing onward, gradually descended amid pouring torrents, and gaping chasms overlaced with branching trees, till the augmented roar of 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 beeches, birches, and mountain-oak, bending over the flood, interwove 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 this sublime valley struck the whole party with a feeling that made them pause. It seemed as it to these sacred solitudes, hidden in the very bosom of Scotland, no hostile foot dared intrude. Murray looked at Ker. "We go, my friend, to arouse the genius of our country! Here are the native fastnesses of Scotland; and from this pass 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 Lubnaig, till the royal heights of Craignacoheilg showed their summits, covered with heath and many an ivied 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 center of Glenfinlass.

Ker put his bugle to his lips, and sounded the pibroch of Ellerslie. 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 Cragnacoheilg. An armed man then appeared on the rock, leaning forward. Ker drew near, and taking off his bonnet, called aloud: "Stephen! it is William Ker who speaks. I come with the Lord Andrew Murray of Bothwell, to the support 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 recognized to be Sir Roger Kirkpatrick of Torthorald. The chiefs 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 Southron outrage. Yet I am impatient to lead them to the presence of my uncle's preserver."

Kirkpatrick's answer disappointed the eager spirit of the young warrior: "I am sorry, brave Murray, that you have no better knight 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 is Sir William Wallace?" demanded Murray.

"Gone toward the Forth, to rouse 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 it home."

As he spoke, he led Murray to the rampart-like cliffs which crown the summit of Craignacoheilg. In the midst stood a tower, which had once been a favorite hunting-lodge of the great King Fergus. There Kirkpatrick 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, Durstus the Pict, and Dionethus the Briton, spread his board during their huntings in 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 claymore shall never shroud its head while an invader be left alive in Scotland."

Kirkpatrick caught him in his arms. "Brave son of the noble Bothwell, thou art after mine own heart! The blow which the dastard Cressingham 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 Cressingham propose to the barons north of the dike, 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 dishonor by a blow I could not avenge. I fled to my brother-in-law, Sir John Scott, of Loch Doine. 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 bedridden kinsman partook my emotions; and with his zealous concurrence, I led a band of his hardiest clansmen, to reinforce the brave men of Lanark on this rock.

"Two days I have now been here, awaiting in anxious impatience the 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 Stirling; and there, in the very heart of his den, I will sacrifice the tiger Cressingham, 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 Stirling 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 a 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 Stirling. To 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 Cressingham on these hands than live a prince and die unrevenged!"

Stephen and Ker 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. "What?" 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 Drummonds, 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 adieu, followed Stephen and Ker into the hall. A haunch of venison of Glenfinlass smoked on the board, and goblets of wine from the bounteous 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 Craignacoheilg, and by what fortunate occurrence, or signal act of bravery, Wallace could have escaped with his whole train from the foe surrounding Cartlane Craigs.

"Heaven smiled on us!" replied Stephen. "The very evening of the day on which Ker left us there was a carousal 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, our resolute chief (twisting it round 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 men 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 reascended the rock half way; and receiving the children, which their trembling mothers lowered into this 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 effected, we blocked up its egressing 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 king shepherds gave the woman 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 Glenfinlass, here to await his return. Selecting ten men, with that small band he turned toward the Forth, hoping to meet some valiant friends in that part of the country read to embrace her cause.

"He had hardly been an hour departed when Dugald observed a procession of monks descending the opposite mountain. They drew near and halted in the glen. A crowd of women from the neighboring hills had followed the train, and were now gathering around a bier 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. 'Friend,' whispered he, 'for charity conduct us to some safe place where we may withdraw this bier from the sacrilegious eye of curiosity.'

"I made no hesitation, but desired the train to follow me into a byre 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 travelers 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 their 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 would lead us to the field?' There was something in the young priest's eyes that seemed to contradict his pacific 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 Ellerslie?' As I spoke, for I stood close to the bier, I perceived the pall shake. The monk answered my last question with an exclamation-'You mean Sir William Wallace!'

"'Yes!' I replied. The bier shook more violently at these words, and, with my hair bristling from my head, I saw the pall hastily thrown 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 insure our passage through the English army; for we are soldiers like yourself.' As he spoke, he opened his gray habit, and showed me the mailed 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 honor of this usurper, 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 whither Wallace was gone, and of our destination to await him in the forest of Glenfinlass.

"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 Cartlane 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 tonsure. 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.

"Seeing 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 and enterprise to lead us. It was he proposed disguising ourselves as a funeral procession; and while he painted his blooming countenance of a death-like paleness and stretched himself on this bier, the abbot sent to the English army to request permission for a party of monks to cross the craigs to the cave of St. Colomba, in Stirlingshire, whither 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 bier 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 Southrons 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 pall, 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 bier. In hopes of at last evading this vigilance, on pretense of a vow of the deceased that his bearers 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 effected 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 Southron 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 into Stirlingshire, 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. Yet 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," demanded 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 repast 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 tomorrow 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 it my duty to yield its command to him."

"Indeed he richly deserves it," returned Stephen; "for the very soul of Wallace seemed transfused into his breast, as he cheered us through our long march from the valley to Glenfinlass; 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 nearest stones, and sung to us legends of our ancestors, till every nerve was braced with warlike emulation, and starting up, we proceeded onward with resolution and even gayety.

"When we arrived at Craignacoheilg, as the women were in great want, I suddenly recollected that I had an old friend in the neighborhood. When a boy, I had been the playfellow of Sir John Scott of Loch Doine; 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 Kirkpatrick, took fire at my relation, and declared his determination to accompany me to Craignacoheilg; 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. Mercy belongs not to the enemy, now doomed to fall beneath their father's swords!'"

**It was a custom 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 Kirkpatrick's, and he proceeded: "When vengeance is in our grasp, tell me, brave Murray, who will then tremble? Dost thou not feel retribution in thine own hands? Dost 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 Kirkpatrick; "but my dagger shall yet drink the blood of his agents. Cressingham shall feel my foot upon his neck! Cressingham shall see that hand torn from its wrist, which durst to violate the unsullied cheek of a true Scotsman. Murray, I cannot live unrevenged."

As he spoke, he quitted the apartment, and with a countenance of such tremendous fate, that the young warrior doubted it was human; it spoke not the noble resolves of patriotism, but the portentous malignity with which the great adversary of mankind determines the ruin of nations; it seemed to wither the grass on which he moved; and Murray almost thought that the clouds darkened as the gloomy knight 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 wearied chieftain to a bed of freshly-gathered heath, prepared for him in an upper chamber.

Chapter XIX.

Craignacoheilg.



Sleep, the gentle sister of that awful power which shrouds man in its cold bosom, and bears him in still repose to the blissful wakefulness of eternal life-she, sweet restorer! wraps him in her balmy embraces, and extracting from his wearied limbs the effects of every toil, safely relinquishes the refreshed slumberer at morn to the new-born vigor that is her gift; to the gladsome breezes which call us forth to labor 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 armor, 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 is arrived-his bugles have sounded-our husbands are returned!"

Murray followed 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 forbore 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 brigandine, rushed to the rock; but at the sight 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 Kirkpatrick welcomed the chief, and introduced Lord Andrew Murray. Wallace received the latter 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," added he, in a graver tone, "we shall only rivet her chains the closer."

"I am but a 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," continued he, "who has preserved a party of men, sent by my cousin Lady Helen Mar, almost double my numbers."

At this reference to the youthful warrior, Sir Roger Kirkpatrick 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 a 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 embarassed 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 roused 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 awe with which the name, and the dignity of figure and mein 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 favorite 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 he 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 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 honorable 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 there.

"My father," added he, "is still with the Lord of Loch-awe; and thither I sent to request him to dispatch to the Cartlane 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 Glenfinlass?"

"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 Mar. 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. In my circuit through two or three eastern counties, a promising increase has been made to our little army. The Frasers of Oliver Castle have given me two hundred men; and the brave Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, 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!"

**A lion gules, in a field or, is the arms of Scotland.-(1809.)

"No," cried Kirkpatrick, his eyes flashing fire; "rather may every Scot and every Southron fall in the struggle, and fill one grave! Let me," cried he, sternly grasping the hilt of his sword, and looking upward, "let me, oh, Saviour of mankind, live but to see the Forth and the Clyde, so often reddened with our blood, dye 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 knight 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 from us our lands; to the ruffians who wrest from us our honors? 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 Southron 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 Heselrigge 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 nephew's 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 humanity's, for policy's sake we ought to give quarter; for the exterminating sword, if not always victorious, incurs the ruin it threatens, even hope, that by or 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 honorable countrymen, when they see Scotsmen no longer consenting to their own degradation, may take shame to themselves for assisting to betray a confiding people."

"That may be" returned Kirkpatrick; "but surely you would not rank Aymer de Valence, who lords it over Dumbarton, and Cressingham, who acts the tyrant in Stirling-you would not rank them amongst these conscientious English?"

"No," replied Wallace; "the haughty oppression of the one and the wanton 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 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."

Murray 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 countrywomen," 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 to part, 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 XX.

The Cliffs of Loch Lubnaig.



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 Craignacoheilg 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 Frasers 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 mite! 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 lock, which he could not help recognizing. "This is my betrothed," continued Murray in a blither tone; "I have sworn to take her for better 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 this standard." His eyes glanced at the empress; "Thou art right," continued he; "God doth goest with the confidence of success, to embrace victory as a bride!"

"No, I am only the bridegroom's man!" replied Murray, gayly 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 wounds incurable. Patriotism is a virgin passion in thy breast, and innocence and joy wait upon her!"

"We just muster five hundred men!" observed Ker to Wallace; "but they are all stout in heart as in condition, and ready, even to-night, if you will it, to commence their march."

"No," replied Wallace; "we must not overstrain the generous spirit. Let them rest to-night, and to-morrow's dawn shall light us through the forest."

Ker, who acted as henchman to Wallace, now returned to the ranks to give the word, and they marched forward.

Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, with his golden standard charged with the lion of Scotland, led the van. Wallace raised his bonnet from his head, as it drew near. Scrymgeour lowered the staff; Wallace threw up his outstretched hand at this action, but the knight not understanding him, he stepped forward. "Sir Alexander Scrymgeour," cried he, "that standard must now 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 Scrymgeour, 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 knight had adopted the device of the hardy King Archaius,** but with a fiercer motto-"Touch, and I pierce!"

**Archaius, King of Scotland, took for his device the thistle and the Rewe, and for his motto, "For my defense."

"That man," thought Wallace, as he passed along, "carried a relentless sword in his very eye!"

The men of Loch Doine, 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 indigenuous face of Murray. Kenneth 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 Lanarkment to the protection of Sir John Scott. It is time that age, infancy, and female weakness should cease their wanderings with us; to-night 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 babes 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 we are, 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 suffused 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 of a Baliol, 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 heart, and answered in an agitated voice. "They are mine!-my weal shall be theirs-my woe my own." As he spoke he hurried from the weeping group, and emerging amid the cliffs, hid himself from their tears and their blessing.

He threw himself on a shelving rock, whose fern-covered bosom projected over the winding waters of Loch Lubnaig, 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 man, 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 Ledi 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 the 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 Ellerslie are gone! No tender wife will now twine her faithful arms around 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 Marion 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. "It is thy just tribute, Marion," said he; "it was blood you shed for me, and shall I check these poor drops? Look on me, sweet saint, best-beloved of my soul; O! 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 Craignacoheilg. 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 Lanarkmen were quartered.

As he drew near he saw some standing on the cliff and others leaning over, to catch another glance of the departing group ere it was lost amid the shades of Glenfinlass.

"Are they quite gone?" asked Dugald.

"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 companions," said he, "I come to repay this hour's pangs by telling you that, in the attack of Dumbarton, you shall have the honor of first mounting the walls. I shall be at your head, to sign each brave soldier with a patriot's seal of honor."

"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 reascending 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."

"Call me 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 honor, the highest in my gift; 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. I now speak as her minister; and, as a badge to times immemorial, I bid you wear the Scottish lion on your shields."

A shout of proud joy issued from every heart; and Wallace, seeing that honor 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.

Loch Lomond.



Profound as was the rest of Wallace, yet the first clarion of the lark awakened him. 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 hauberk; 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 Kirkpatrick appeared from the tower. "Blessed be this morn!" cried the old knight. "My sword springs from its scabbard to meet it; and ere its good steel be sheathed again," continued he, shaking it sternly, "what deaths may dye its point!"

Wallace shuddered 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 infuriate Kirkpatrick. He talked of the coming battle with horrid rapture, and told the 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 Kirkpatrick. But Kirkpatrick did not so soon discover the dissimilarity; as it is easier for purity to descry its opposite, than for foulness to apprehend that anything can be purer than itself.

The forces being marshaled according to the preconcerted order, the three commanders, with Wallace at their head, led forward.

They passed through the forest of Glenfinlass; 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 lashed the shore. The newly-awakened sheep bleated 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 Baliol had possessed but half a heart, Edward might have returned even worse than Caesar-without a cockle to decorate his helmet."

"Baliol 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 Baliol!" rejoined Scrymgeour. "During the inconsistent reign of his father, I once carried a despatch 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 that so effeminate a 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 Ker, "what can we expect from even the Bruce? They were ever a nobler race than the Baliol; but bad education and luxury will debase the most princely minds."

"I saw neither of the Bruce when I visited London," replied Scrymgeour; "the Earl of Carrick was at his house in Cleveland, and Robert Bruce, his eldest son, with the English army in Guienne. 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 honor," interrupted Murray, "if he compelled the English to acknowledge him as Prince of Scotland. With so much bravery, how can he allow such a civetcat as Edward Baliol 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 fair Freedom's sake, my heart turns toward the Bruces 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 Bruces will not be at the 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 dikes."

**Albin was the ancient name of Scotland.

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 knight's reply; "and in the true Roman style, may the death of every Southron 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 rebuke in his eye. "Balaam blessed, when he meant to curse!" said he; "but some curse, when they mean to bless. Such prayers are blasphemy. For, can we expect a blessing 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 aggrieve, but to redress, that we carry arms. If we make not this distinction, we turn courage into a crime; and plant disgrace, instead of honor, upon the warrior's brow."

"I do not understand commiserating the wolves who have so long made havoc in our country," cried Kirkpatrick; "methinks such maidenly mercy is rather or 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 Southron wolves may not confound us with themselves, that I wish to show in our conduct rather the generous ardor 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 sympathize; 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 but 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 Ennerie, 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 sight; 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 pyramidal 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 Scrymgeour, "shall light us to their chambers; and for once we thank them for their providence."

"That beacon-fire," whispered Edwin to Wallace, "shall light me to honor! To-night, 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 banneret 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 telltale light in the waves.

Chapter XXII.

Dumbarton Rock.



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 Mar'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 a sure victory, and himself to honor by thy side!"

This fervant apostrophe, breathed to the night alone, was no sooner uttered, than he stole from the thicket into which he had cast himself to respose. 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 the easiest of ascent and by that he began his daring attempt. Having gained the height, he clambered behind a buttress, the shadow of which cast the wall into such black obscurity, that he crept safely through one of its crenelles, 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 Southron officers, gayly 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 divers 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 the 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 postern. 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.

Finding no mode of 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 occassionally reposed; 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 climbed to a large embrasure in the wall, and, forcing himself through it, dropped to a declivity on the other side, which shelved down to the cliff, wherein he saw the square tower.

He had scarcely alighted on firm ground, when a sentinel, followed by two others presented pikes, approached him, and demanded the word. "Montjoy!" was his reply. "Why leap the embrasure?" said one. "Why not enter by the postern?" 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 top 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 desparate; 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 Glenfinlass, he affected 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 bade him drink. "Do not spare it," cried he; "the night is chilly, and I shall get more where that came from."

The unsuspecting Southron 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 moonbeams," said he, "if any goodnatured fellow would meanwhile wait for my pretty Scot!"

The half-inebriated Southron 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 mode of 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 blackness of space, for here the broad expanse of shadow rendered rocks and building of the same hue and 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 respose, reclined himself along a pile of moss grown stones, which in the days of the renowned Fingal, had covered the body of some valiant Morven chieftain. He fixed his wakeful eyes on the castle, now illumined 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 a precipice; the Leven, 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 the dike behind which he lay. Here the ascent to the castellated 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 it the surer 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 wished to learn its most pregnable part," replied Edwin, his young heart beating with triumph at these encomiums 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 Mar 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 buttresses 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 attempt it on the west, we should have to scale the watch-tower 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 may 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 furze. After this, he clambered down the steep, and fording 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 in so young a creature, "merits that every confidence should be placed in 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 respose 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 no 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.



Kirkpatrick, Murray, and Scrymgeour hastened to their commander; and in a few minutes all were under arms. Wallace briefly explained his altered plan of assault, and marshaling his men accordingly, led them in silence through the water, and along the beach, which lay between the rock and the Leven. 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 Lanarkmen.

He and they, being the first to mount, fixed and held the tops of the scaling-ladders, while Kirkpatrick and Scrymgeour, 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 seize the few soldiers who kept the beacon. As a 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 Mar.

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 its 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 Ker, and of several Lanarkmen, 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 enemy's, the Southrons, not aware of the circumstance, 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, grapling 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 intermitting 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.