' 'True,' replied I, 'but while Moses
prayed Joshua fought. God gives the means of glory that they should be
used.' 'But for what, old veteran,' said the monk, with a penetrating
look, 'should we exchange our cowl for the helmet? knowest thou
anything of the Joshua who would lead us to the field?' There was
something in the young priest's eyes that seemed to contradict his
pacific words; they flashed as impetuous fire. My reply was short:
'Are you a Scot?' 'I am, in soul and in arms.' 'Then knowest thou not
the chief of Ellerslie?' As I spoke, for I stood close to the bier, I
perceived the pall shake. The monk answered my last question with an
exclamation-'You mean Sir William Wallace!'
"'Yes!' I replied. The bier shook more violently at these words, and,
with my hair bristling from my head, I saw the pall hastily thrown off,
and a beautiful youth, in a shroud, started from it, crying aloud,
'Then is our pilgrimage at an end! Lead us to him!'
"The monk perceived my terror, and hastily exclaimed. 'Fear not! he is
alive, and seeks Sir William Wallace. His pretended death was a
stratagem to insure our passage through the English army; for we are
soldiers like yourself.
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