Rest
amongst these thickets till morning. At sunrise, repair to our camp;
there you will know my destination. But till Bruce proclaims himself
at the head of the country's armies, for my sake never reveal to mortal
man, that he who lies debilitated by sickness at Huntingtower, is other
than Sir Thomas de Longueville."
"Rest we cannot," replied Grimsby; "but still we will obey our master.
You command me to adhere to Bruce; to serve him till the hour of his
death! I will--but should he die, then I may seek you, and be again
your faithful servant?"
"You will find me before the cross of Christ," returned Wallace, "with
saints my fellow-soldiers, and God my only King! Till then, Grimsby,
farewell. Walter, carry my fidelity to your mistress. She will share
my thoughts, with the Blessed Virgin of Heaven, for in all my prayers
shall her name be remembered."
Grimsby and Walter, struck by the holy solemnity of his manner, fell on
their knees before him. Wallace raised his hands:
"Bless, O Father of Light!" cried he, "bless this unhappy land, when
Wallace is no more; let his memory be lost in the virtues and
prosperity of Robert Bruce!"
Grimsby sunk on the earth, and gave way to a burst of manly sorrow.
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