On Murray's coming from the citadel, he learned that Wallace was gone
toward the great tower. He followed him thither; and on issuing from
the postern which led to that part of the rock, saw the chief standing,
with his helmet off, in the midst of the slain.
"This is a sorry sight!" said he to Murray, as he approached; "but it
shall not long lie thus exposed. I have just ordered that these sad
wrecks of human strife may be lowered into the Clyde; its rushing
stream will soon carry them to a quiet grave beneath yon peaceful sea."
His own dead, amounting to no more than fifteen, were to be buried at
the foot of the rock, a prisoner in the castle having described steps
in the cliff by which the solemnity could easily be performed.
"But why, my dear commander," cried Lord Andrew, "why do you take any
thought about our enemies? Leave them where they are, and the eagles
of our mountains will soon find them graves."
"For shame, Murray!" was the reply of Wallace; "they are dead, and our
enemies no more. They are men like ourselves, and shall we deny them a
place in that earth whence we all sprung? We war not with human
nature; are we not rather the asserters of her rights?"
"I know," replied Lord Andrew, blushing, "that I am often the asserter
of my own folly; and I do not know how you will forgive my
inconsiderate impertinence.
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