Adam Hepburn stooped to wipe his reeking sword upon the already blood-stained heather, and after a brief pause made answer, grimly:
"Thirteen years ago, Mr. Balfour, I had a wife, who was to me the very apple of my eye. She was my one ewe lamb, all I had upon the earth, and in my absence they murdered her, shot her down in cold blood upon the threshold of the home whose light she was. I came home to find her dying, and I swore over her dead body that this sword should not be suffered to return to its sheath until it had sucked the life blood of as many dragoons as there were years upon her head."
Balfour, though void of any touch of sentiment, stranger as he was to the finer feelings of human nature, felt himself deeply moved as he listened to these hoarse, low-spoken words, and saw the terrible gleam in the flashing eye of Adam Hepburn. "Ay, how old was she?" he asked, curtly.
"Eight-and-twenty years had passed over her head; for the fifth part of that time she had blessed my life," returned Adam Hepburn, drawing his hand across his brow, which was wet with the sweat of the conflict. "Yes, eight-and-twenty years! Seven miscreants did this right arm send to their account not twelve months after, on the field of Rullion Green. Other four have I encountered in single combat, surprising them when I was in hiding in the vale of Inverburn, and always escaping miraculously with my life."
"And to-day?" queried Balfour, curiously, much struck by his companion's words.
"Nine fell before me in the fight this day," said Adam, with fierce exultation. "Ay, my good and trusty blade, eight times yet hast thou to penetrate the breast of the foe, and then, perchance, thy last resting-place shall be found in the heart of thy poor master himself."
"She must have been a woman above the average, Adam Hepburn, that you should thus dedicate your life to the shrine of her revenge," said Balfour, musingly.
"She was--but there, what need is there for me to say more; was she not my wife?" said Adam Hepburn. Then, as if tired of the conversation, he abruptly turned away, and fell to the rear of the army.
They now returned to the base of the hill, where they were warmly welcomed by those who had so anxiously watched the fray from afar, alternately hoping and fearing, and never ceasing in their prayers.
A devout and reverent thanksgiving service was then held, and those who had attended the Conventicle afterwards returned to their homes, with their faith strengthened, and their hearts much encouraged by the favourable events of the day.