"Our swords will find one!" exclaimed Kirkpatrick.
Unwilling to miss any advantage, in a situation where so much was at
stake, Wallace gladly hailed a twinkling light, which gleamed from what
he supposed the window of a distant cottage. Kirkpatrick, with
Macdougal, offered to go forward, and explore what it might be. In a
few minutes they arrived at a thatched building; from which, to their
surprise, issued the wailing strains of the coronach. Kirkpatrick
paused. Its melancholy notes were sung by female voices. Hence, there
being no danger in applying to such harmless inhabitants, to learn the
way to the citadel, he proceeded to the door; when, intending to knock,
the weight of his mailed arm burst open its slender latch, and
discovered two poor women, in an inner apartment, wringing their hands
over a shrouded corpse. While the chief entered his friends came up.
Murray and Graham, struck with sounds never breathed over the vulgar
dead, lingered at the porch wondering what noble Scot could be the
subject of lamentation in so lowly an abode. The stopping of these two
chieftains impeded the steps of Wallace, who was pressing forward,
without eye or ear for anything but the object of his search.
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