By her lamp one of the men discovered the mouth of a
cavern, where Wallace gladly sheltered his dripping charges.
The child, whom he had guarded in his own arms during the difficult
ascent, he now laid on the bosom of its mother. Lady mar kissed the
hand that relinquished it, and gave way to a flood of grateful tears.
The earl, as he sunk almost powerless against the side of the cave, yet
had strength enough to press Wallace to his heart. "Ever preserver of
me and mine!" cried he, "how must I bless thee!-My wife, my child-"
"Have been saved to you, my friend," interrupted Wallace, "by the
presiding care of Him who walked the waves! Without His especial arm
we must all have perished in this awful night; therefore let our
thanksgivings be directed to Him alone."
"So be it!" returned the earl, and dropping on his knees, he breathed
forth so pathetic and sublime a prayer of thanks, that the countess
trembled, and bent her head upon the bosom of her child. She could not
utter the solemn Amen, that was repeated by every voice in the cave.
Her unhappy infatuation saw no higher power in this great preservation
than the hand of the man she adored.
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