I never shall
forget the day when she stood on the top of that rock, and let a
garland he had made for her fall into the Clyde. Without more ado,
never caring because it is the deepest here of any part of the river,
he jumps in after it, and I after him; and well I did, for when I
caught him by his bonny golden locks, he was insensible. His head had
struck against a stone in the plunge, and a great cut was over his
forehead. God bless him, a sorry scar it left! but many, I warrant,
have the Southrons now made on his comely countenance. I have never
seen him since he grew a man."
Gregory, the honest steward of Lammington, was now recognized in this
old man's narration; but time and hardship had so altered his
appearance, that Wallace could not have otherwise recollected the ruddy
face and active figure of his well-remembered companion, in the shaking
limbs and pallid visage of the hoary speaker. When he ended, the chief
threw himself from his horse. He approached the old man; with one hand
he took off his helmet, and with the other putting back the same golden
locks, he said, "Was the scar you speak of anything like this?" His
face was now close to the eye of Gregory, who in the action, the words,
and the mark, immediately recognizing the young playmate of his
happiest days, with an almost shriek of joy, threw himself on his neck
and wept; then looking up, with tears rolling over his cheeks, he
exclaimed, "O Power of Mercy, take me to thyself, since my eyes have
seen the deliverer of Scotland!"
"Not so, my venerable friend," returned Wallace; "you must make these
desolated regions bloom anew! Decorate them, Gregory, as you would do
the tomb of your mistress.
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