"_Il est un officier Ecossais!_" upon which the drivers reined up: the soldiers sprang from the tumbril, and placing him beside them, galloped across the field of battle towards the redoubts on the left of Luxembourg's position. The jolting occasioned Walter exquisite agony, and he could not repress a shudder when the cannon wheels passed over the crackling body of some dead or wounded soldier who lay prostrate in their path. After riding a mile or two he fell from his seat with violence, and once more became insensible. "_Il est morte_" said the Frenchmen, as they whipped up their horses and thought no more about him. After lying long in a dreamy state, tormented by a burning thirst and feeling prickly and shooting pains over his whole body as the blood flowed back into its old channels, Walter made an attempt to rise, but the motion occasioned him exquisite pain, and the whole landscape swam around him. He thought he was mortally wounded; a cold perspiration burst over his temples; a stupor again stole upon his senses, and, believing he was dying, he piously recommended himself to God, closed his eyes, and lay down resigned to his fate. But the mind was active though the frame remained inert, and he thought of Lilian, of Finland and Annie, and how the hand of Death had thrown a cold blight over all their fondest hopes and prospects, and so weak had he become that audible sobs burst from him. The heavy dew was falling fast, and its moisture refreshed him; he raised his head, and near him saw the figure of a female in a sombre and peculiar garb: she was completely attired in black; a thick veil of the same colour with a little hood of white linen were drawn closely round her face, which seemed pale and colourless as that of death in the uncertain rays of a cruise which she carried; but though aged, she was marked by a serenity and air of repose singularly winning and prepossessing. She bent tenderly over him with a face expressive of the deepest commiseration. "'Tis a vision!" was Walter's first thought; "'tis an Ursuline nun," was his second. "Poor youth--unhappy youth!" said the stranger tenderly, and burst into tears. "Heaven's blessing on you, gentle lady," said Walter, as he endeavoured to rise; "no tears can be more precious in the sight of Heaven than those shed by compassion. God save great Luxembourg! We have this day gained a glorious victory; but at what a price to me!" he continued in his own language. "Alake! my brave and noble friends, the best blood of Scotland has mingled yonder with the waters of the Senne."