"
"My dear Edwin," returned Wallace, "there are many impetuous spirits in
Scotland who need the lesson I now enforce upon you; and they will be
brought to maintain the law of honor when they see that their regent
spares not its slightest violation, even when committed by his best
beloved friend. Farewell till we meet again!"
Edwin kissed Wallace's hand in silence-it was not wet with his
tears-and drawing his bonnet hastily over his eyes, he retired into the
rear of Lord Mar's party. That nobleman soon after took leave of the
regent, who, placing himself at the head of his legions, the trumpets
blew the signal of march. Edwin, at the sound which a few minutes
before he would have greeted with so much joy, felt his grief-swollen
heart give way; he sobbed aloud, and striking his heel on the side of
his horse, galloped to a distance, to bide from all eyes the violence
of his regrets. The trampling of the departing troops rolled over the
ground like receding thunder. Edwin at last stole a look toward the
plain; he beheld a vast cloud of dust, but no more the squadrons of his
friend.
Chapter XLIV.
The Cheviots.
As Wallace pursued his march along the once fertile and well-peopled
valleys of Clydesdale, their present appearance affected him like the
sight of a friend whom he had seen depart in all the graces of youth
and prosperity, but met again overcome with disease and wretchedness.
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