"Oh! not England!" interrupted Edwin; "you bow not to her. It is
blind, mad Scotland, who thus thrusts her benefactor from her."
"Ah! then, my Edwin," rejoined he, "read in me this history of
thousands. So various is the fate of a people's idol; today he is
worshiped as a god, to-morrow cast into the fire!"
Monteith turned pale at this conversation; and quickening his steps,
hurried in silence past the opening of the valley which presented the
view of Rutherglen.
Night overtook the travelers near the little village of Lumloch, about
two hours' journey from Glasgow. Here a storm coming on, Monteith
advised his friends to take shelter and rest. "As you object to
implicate others," said he, "you may sleep secure in an old barn which
at present has no ostensible owner. I remarked it while passing this
way from Newark. But I rather wish you would forget this too chary
regard for others, and lodge with me in the neighboring cottage."
Wallace was insensible to the pelting of the elements; his unsubdued
spirit wanted rest for neither mind nor body; but the broken voice and
lingering step of the young Edwin, who had severely sprained his foot
in the dark, penetrated his heart; and notwithstanding that the
resolute boy, suddenly rallying himself, declared that he was neither
weary nor in pain, Wallace seeing he was both, yielded a sad consent to
be conducted from the storm.
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