The Scottish Chiefs | Page 8

spoke, he threw the now insensible stranger into their arms. The

other man, whose voice had first attracted Wallace, at the instant sunk,
covered with blood, on the pavement.
Two of the servants, obeying their master, carried their senseless
burden toward the horses; but the third, being hemmed in by the furious
soldiers, could not move. Wallace made a passage to his rescue, and
effected it; but one base wretch, while the now wounded Scot was
retreating, made a stroke which would have severed his head from his
body, had not the trusty claymore of Wallace struck down the pending
weapon of the coward, and received his rushing body upon its point. He
fell with bitter imprecations, calling aloud for vengeance.
A dreadful cry was now raised by the whole band of assassins:
"Murder!-treason!-Arthur Heselrigge is slain!" The uproar became
general. The windows of the adjoining houses were thrown open;
people armed and unarmed issued from their doors and pressed forward
to inquire the cause of the alarm. Wallace was nearly overpowered; a
hundred swords flashed in the torchlight; but at the moment he
expected they would be sheathed in his heart, the earth gave way under
his feet, and he sunk into utter darkness.
He fell upon a quantity of gathered broom; and concluding that the
weight of the thronging multitude had burst his way through the arch of
a cellar, he sprung to his feet; and though he heard the curses of several
wretches, who had fallen with him and fared worse, he made but one
step to a half-opened door, pointed out to him by a gleam from an inner
passage. The men uttered a shout as they saw him darken the light
which glimmered through it; but they were incapable of pursuit; and
Wallace, aware of his danger, darting across the adjoining apartment,
burst open a window, and leaped out to the foot of the Lanark hills.
The oaths of the soldiers, enraged at his escape, echoed in his ears, till
distance sunk them into hoarse murmurs. He pursued his way over the
craigs; through the valley, and across the river, to the cliffs which
embattle the garden of Ellerslie. Springing on the projecting point of
the nearest, he leaped into a thicket of honeysuckles. This was the
favorite bower of his Marion! The soft perfume, as it saluted his senses,
seemed to breathe peace and safety; and as he emerged from its

fragrant embrace, he walked with a calmer step toward the house. He
approached a door which led into the garden. It was open. He beheld
his beloved leaning over a couch, on which was laid the person he had
rescued. Halbert was dressing his wounds.
Wallace paused for a moment, to contemplate his lovely wife in this
more lovely act of charity. Her beautiful hands held a cup to the lips of
the stranger; while her long hair, escaped from its band, fell in jetty
ringlets, and mingled with his silver locks.
"Marion!" exclaimed the overflowing soul of her husband. She looked
up at the well-known sound, and with a cry of joy, rushing forward,
threw herself into his arms; her tears flowed, she sobbed-she clung to
his breast. It was the first time Wallace had been from her; she had
feared it would have been the last. The hour-the conflict-the bleeding
stranger! But now he was returned-he was safe!
"Art thou indeed here!" exclaimed she. Blood fell from his forehead
upon her face and bosom: "O, my Wallace!" cried she, in agony.
"Fear not, my love! all is well, since our wounded countryman is safe."
"But you, bleed!" returned she. No tears now impeded her voice. Terror
had checked their joyful currents; and she felt as if she expected his
life-blood to issue from the wound on which she gazed.
"I hope my preserver is not hurt?" inquired the stranger.
"Oh, no!" replied Wallace, putting back the hair from his forehead; "a
mere trifle!" That the action had discovered the gash to be wider than
he thought, he saw in the countenance of his wife! She turned deadly
pale. "Marion," said he, "to convince you how causeless your fears are,
you shall cure me yourself; and with no other surgery than your girdle!"
When Lady Wallace heard his gay tone, and saw the unforced smiles
on his lips, she took courage; and, remembering the deep wounds on
the stranger, whom she had just assisted to dress, without any alarm for
his life, she began to hope that she need not now fear for the object

dearest to her in existence. Rising from her husband's arms, with a
languid smile she unbound the linen fillet from her waist; and Halbert
having poured some balsam into the wound, she prepared to apply the
bandage; but when she