"I would save myself; and I will, please God," said he; "but by no means unworthy of myself. I go, but not under any disguise. Openly have I defended Scotland, and openly will I pass through her lands. The chalice of Heaven consecrated me the champion of my country, and no Scot dare lift a hostile hand against this anointed head."
The soul of Wallace swelled high, but devoutly, while uttering this.
"Whither you go," cried Grimsby, "let me follow you, in joy or in sorrow!"
"And me, too, my benefactor!" rejoined Walter, "and when you look on us, think not that Scotland is altogether ungrateful!"
"My faithful friend," returned he, "whither I go, I must go alone. And as a proof of your love, grant me your obedience this once. Rest amongst these thickets till morning. At sunrise, repair to our camp; there you will know my destination. But till Bruce proclaims himself at the head of the country's armies, for my sake never reveal to mortal man, that he who lies debilitated by sickness at Huntingtower, is other than Sir Thomas de Longueville."
"Rest we cannot," replied Grimsby; "but still we will obey our master. You command me to adhere to Bruce; to serve him till the hour of his death! I will—but should he die, then I may seek you, and be again your faithful servant?"
"You will find me before the cross of Christ," returned Wallace, "with saints my fellow-soldiers, and God my only King! Till then, Grimsby, farewell. Walter, carry my fidelity to your mistress. She will share my thoughts, with the Blessed Virgin of Heaven, for in all my prayers shall her name be remembered."
Grimsby and Walter, struck by the holy solemnity of his manner, fell on their knees before him. Wallace raised his hands:
"Bless, O Father of Light!" cried he, "bless this unhappy land, when Wallace is no more; let his memory be lost in the virtues and prosperity of Robert Bruce!"
Grimsby sunk on the earth, and gave way to a burst of manly sorrow. Walter hid his weeping face in the folds of his master's mantle, which had fallen from his shoulders to the ground. Lost in grief, no thought seemed to exist in the young man's heart but the resolution to live only for his persecuted benefactor; and to express this vow with all the energy of determined devotedness, he looked up to seek the face of Wallace—but Wallace had disappeared; and all that remained, to the breaking hearts of his faithful servants, was the tartan plaid which they had clasped in their arms.