He opened his eyes
languidly, and when the sight of his rocky apartment forced on him the
recollection of all his miseries, he uttered a deep groan. That sad
sound, so different from the jocund voice with which Wallace used to
issue from his rest, struck on the heart of Halbert; he drew near his
master to receive his last commands for Bothwell. "On my knees," added
he, "will I implore the earl to send you succor."
"He needs not prayers for that," returned Wallace; "but depart, dear,
worthy Halbert; it will comfort me to know you are in safety; and
whithersoever you go, you carry my thanks and blessings with you."
Old age opens the fountains of tears; Halbert's flowed profusely, and
bathed his master's hand. Could Wallace have wept, it would have been
then; but that gentle emollient of grief was denied to him, and, with a
voice of assumed cheerfulness, he renewed his efforts to encourage his
desponding servant. Half persuaded that a Superior Being did indeed
call his beloved master to some extraordinary exertions for Scotland,
Halbert bade him an anxious farewell, and then withdrew to commit him
to the fidelity of the companions of his destiny.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104