The
blood which had streamed from the now exhausted heart, lay congealed
upon her arms and bosom. Grimsby shuddered. Again he saw her move;
but it was not with her own life; the recovering senses of her faithful
servant, as his arms clung around the body, had disturbed the remains
of her who would wake no more.
On seeing that existence yet struggled in one of these blameless
victims, Grimsby did his utmost to revive the old man. He raised him
from the ground, and poured some strong liquor he had in a flask into a
mouth. Halbert breathed freer; and his kind surgeon, with the
venerable harper's own plaid, bound up the wound in his neck. Halbert
opened his eyes. When he fixed them on the rough features and English
helmet of the soldier, he closed them again with a deep groan.
"My honest Scot," said Grimsby, "trust in me. I am a man like
yourself; and though a Southron, am no enemy to age and helplessness."
The harper took courage at these words; he again looked at the soldier;
but suddenly recollecting what had passed, he turned his eyes toward
the body of his mistress, on which the beams of the now rising sun were
shining.
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