Scotland -- History -- War of Independence, 1285-1371 -- Fiction
The spray was spread in so thick a mist over the glen, he knew not how
to advance. A step further might be on the firm earth, but more
probably illusive, and dash him into the roaring Lynn, where he would
be ingulfed at once in its furious whirlpool. He paused and looked
around. The rain had ceased, but the thunder still rolled at a
distance and echoed tremendously from the surrounding rocks. Halbert
shook his gray locks, streaming with wet, and looked toward the sun,
now gliding with its last rays the vast sheets of falling water.
"This is thine hour, my master!" exclaimed the old man; "and surely I
am too near the Lynn to be far from thee!"
With these words he raised the pipe that hung at his breast, and blew
three strains of the appointed air. In former days it used to call
from her bower that "fair star of evening," the beauteous Marion, now
departed for ever into her native heaven. The notes trembled as his
agitated breath breathed them into the instrument; but feeble as they
were, and though the roar of the cataract might have prevented their
reaching a less attentive era than that of Wallace, yet he sprung from
the innermost recess under the fall, and dashing through its rushing
waters, the next instant was at the side of Halbert.
"Faithful creature!" cried he, catching him in his arms, which all the
joy of that moment which ends the anxious wish to learn tidings of what
is dearest in the world, "how fares my Marion?"
"I am weary," cried the heart-stricken old man; "take me within your
sanctuary, and I will tell you all."
Wallace perceived that his time-worn servant was indeed exhausted; and
knowing the toils and hazards of the perilous track he must have passed
over in his way to his fearful solitude, also remembering how, as he
sat in his shelter, he had himself dreaded the effects of the storm
upon so aged a traveler, he no longer wondered at the dispirited tone
of his greeting, and readily accounted for the pale countenance and
tremulous step which at first had excited his alarm.
Giving the old man his hand, he led him with caution to the brink of
the Lynn; and then, folding him in his arms, dashed with him through
the tumbling water into the cavern he had chosen for his asylum.
Halbert sunk against the rocky side, and putting forth his hand to
catch some of the water as it fell, drew a few drops to his parched
lips, and swallowed them. After this light refreshment, he breathed a
little and turned his eyes upon his anxious master.
"Are you sufficiently recovered, Halbert, to tell me how you left my
dearest Marion."
Halbert dreaded to see the animated light which now cheered him from
the eyes of his master, overclouded with the Cimmerian horrors his
story must unfold; he evaded a direct reply; "I saw your guest in
safety; I saw him and the iron box on their way to Bothwell?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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