While my father commanded in Bothwell Castle, and was
sending out auxiliaries to the patriot chief, I too felt nothing but
the inspiration which led them on, and saw nothing but the victory
which must crown so just a cause. But now, when all whom my father
commanded are slain or carried away by the enemy, when he is himself a
prisoner, and awaiting the sentence of the tyrant he opposed, when the
gallant Wallace, instead of being able to hasten to his rescue, is
besieged by a numberless host, hope almost dies within me, and I fear
that whoever may be fated to free Scotland, my beloved father, and
those belonging to him are first to be made a sacrifice."
She turned pale as she spoke, and the stranger resumed. "No, lady, if
there be that virtue in Scotland which can alone deserve freedom, it
will be achieved. I am an inconsiderable man, but relying on the God
of Justice, I promise you your father's liberty; and let his freedom be
a pledge to you for that of your country. I now go to rouse a few
brave spirits to arms. Remember the battle is not to the strong, nor
victory with a multitude of hosts! The banner** of St. Andrew was once
held from the heavens, over a little band of Scots, while they
discomfited a thousand enemies-the same arm leads me on; and, if need
be, I despair not to see it again, like the flaming pillar before the
Israelites, consuming the enemies of liberty, even in the fullness of
their might.
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