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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"The Scottish Chiefs"

"
"His power in Scotland may fall," returned Murray; "but Edward will be
too careful of his life to come within reach of our steel."
"That may be," rejoined Kirkpatrick; "but my dagger shall yet drink the
blood of his agents. Cressingham shall feel my foot upon his neck!
Cressingham shall see that hand torn from its wrist, which durst to
violate the unsullied cheek of a true Scotsman. Murray, I cannot live
unrevenged."
As he spoke, he quitted the apartment, and with a countenance of such
tremendous fate, that the young warrior doubted it was human; it spoke
not the noble resolves of patriotism, but the portentous malignity with
which the great adversary of mankind determines the ruin of nations; it
seemed to wither the grass on which he moved; and Murray almost thought
that the clouds darkened as the gloomy knight issued from the porch
into the open air.
Kenneth Mackenzie joyfully entered the hall. Murray received him with
a warm embrace; and, soon after, Stephen Ireland led the wearied
chieftain to a bed of freshly-gathered heath, prepared for him in an
upper chamber.

Chapter XIX.
Craignacoheilg.

Sleep, the gentle sister of that awful power which shrouds man in its
cold bosom, and bears him in still repose to the blissful wakefulness
of eternal life-she, sweet restorer! wraps him in her balmy embraces,
and extracting from his wearied limbs the effects of every toil, safely
relinquishes the refreshed slumberer at morn to the new-born vigor that
is her gift; to the gladsome breezes which call us forth to labor and
enjoyment.


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