He therefore turned his steps toward the ports of Ayr. The road
was circuitous; but it would soon enough take him from the land of his
fathers--from the country he must never see again!
As morning dispelled the shades of night, it discovered still more
dreary glooms. A heavy mist hung over the hills, and rolled before him
along the valley. Still he pursued his way, although, the day
advanced, the vapors collected into thicker blackness, and, floating
down the heights, at last burst into a deluge of rain. All around was
darkened by the descending water; and the accumulating floods, dashing
from the projecting craigs above, swelled the burn in his path to a
roaring river. Wallace stood in the torrent, with its wild waves
breaking against his sides. The rain fell on his uncovered head, and
the chilling blast sighed in his streaming hair. Looking around him,
he paused amidst this tumult of nature. "Must there be strife, even
amongst the elements, to show that this is no longer a land for me?
Spirits of these hills," cried he, "pour not thus your rage on a
banished man! A man without a friend, without a home." He started and
smiled at his own adjuration.
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