Many tears followed his recital: not ones of his. auditors was an indifferent listener; all had individually, or in persons dear to them, partaken of the tender Marion’s benevolence. Their sick beds had been comforted by her charity; her voice had often administered consolation to their sorrows; her hand had smoothed their pillows, and placed the crucifix before their dying eyes. Some had recovered to bless her and some departed to record her virtues in heaven.

"Ah! is she gone?" cried a young woman, raising her face, covered with tears, from the bosom of her infant; "is the loveliest lady that ever the sun shone upon, cold in the grave? Alas, for me! she it was that gave me the roof under which my baby was born; she it was who, when the Southron soldiers slew my father, and drove us from our home in Ayrshire, gave to my old mother, and she and some other women whose anxieties would not my then wounded husband, our cottage by the burnside. Ah! well can I spare him now to avenge her murder."

The night being far advanced Halbert retired, at the invitation of this young woman, to repose on the heather-bed of her husband, who was now absent with Wallace.

The rest of the peasantry withdrew to their coverts, while allow them to sleep, sat at the cavern’s mouth watching the slowly moving hours.

The objects of their fond and fervent prayers, Wallace and his little army, were rapidly pursuing their march. It was midnight—all was silent as they hurried through the glen, as they ascended with flying footsteps the steep acclivities that led to the cliffs which overhung the vale of Ellerslie. Wallace must pass along their brow. Beneath was the tomb of his sacrificed Marion! He rushed forward to snatch one look, even of the roof which shrouded her beloved remains.

But in the moment before he mounted the intervening height, a soldier in English armour crossed the path, and was seized by his men. One of them would have cut him down, but Wallace turned away the weapon. "Hold, Scot!" cried he, "you are not a Southron, to strike the defenceless. This man has no sword."

"Who are you?" asked Wallace: "that helmet can cover no friend of mine."

"I am your servant Dugald," returned the man; "he whom your brave arm saved from the battle-axe of Arthur Heselrigge."

"I cannot now ask you how you came by that armour; but if you be yet a Scot throw it off and follow, me?

"Not to Ellerslie, my Lord," cried he; "it has been plundered and burnt to the ground by the governor of Lanark."

"Then," exclaimed Wallace, striking his breast, "are the remains of my beloved Marion for ever ravished from my eyes! Insatiate monster !"

"He is Scotland’s curse," cried the veteran of Largs; "Forward, my Lord, in mercy to your country’s groans!"

Wallace had now mounted the craig which overlooked Ellerslie. His once happy home had disappeared and all beneath lay a heap of smoking ashes. He hastened from the sight, and directing the point of his sword with a forceful action towards Lanark, re-echoed with supernatural strength, "Forward!"

With the rapidity of lightning his little host flew over the hills, reached the cliffs which divided them from the town, and leaped down before the outward trench of the castle of Lanark. In a moment Wallace sprang so feeble a barrier; and with a shout of death, in which the tremendous slogen of his men now joined, he rushed upon the guard that held the northern gate.

Here slept the governor. These opponents being slain by the first sweep of the Scottish swords, Wallace hastened onward, winged with twofold retribution. The noise of battle was behind him; for the shout of his men had aroused the garrison and drawn its soldiers, half naked, to the spot. He reached the door of the governor. The sentinel who stood there flew before the terrible warrior that presented himself. All the mighty vengeance of Wallace blazed in his face and seemed to surround his figure with a terrible splendour. With one stroke of his foot he drove the door from its hinges, and rushed into the room.

"What a sight for the now awakened and guilty Heselrigge! It was the husband of the defenceless woman he had murdered, come in the power of justice, with uplifted arm and vengeance in his eyes! With a terrific scream of despair, and an outcry for the mercy he dared not expect, he fell back into the bed and sought an unavailing shield beneath its folds.

"Marion! Marion!" cried Wallace, as he threw himself towards the bed and buried the sword, yet red with her blood, through the coverlid deep into the heart of her murderer. A fiend-like yell from the slain Heselrigge, told him his work was done; and drawing out the sword he took the streaming blade in his hand. "Vengeance is satisfied," cried he: "thus, O God!" do I henceforth divide self from my heart!" As he spoke he snapt the sword in twain, and throwing away the pieces, put back with his hand the impending weapons of his brave companions; who having cleared the passage of their assailants, had hurried forward to assist in ridding their country of so detestable a tyrant.

"‘Tis done," cried he. As he spoke he drew down the coverlid and discovered the body of the governor weltering in blood. The ghastly countenance, on which the agonies of hell seemed imprinted, glared horrible even in death.

Wallace turned away; but the men exulting in the sight, with a shout of triumph exclaimed, "So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace !"

"Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he:

"from this hour Wallace has neither love nor resentment but for her. Heaven has heard me devote myself to work our country’s freedom or to die. Who will follow me in so just a cause?"

"All !—with Wallace for ever!"