Edwin released, Wallace dropped his assailant, who,
staggering a few paces, fell senseless to the ground, and instantly
expired.
The conflict now became doubly desperate-Edwin's dagger twice defended
the breast of his friend. Two of his assassins he stabbed to the heart.
"Murder that urchin!" cried Monteith, who, seeing from without the
carnage of his men, feared that Wallace might yet make his escape.
"Hah!" cried Wallace, at the sound of Monteith's voice giving such an
order--"then we are betrayed--but not by Heaven! Strike, one of you,
that angel youth," cried he, "and you will incur damnation!"
He spoke to the winds. They poured toward Edwin; Wallace, with a
giant's strength, dispersed them as they advanced; the beam of wood
fell on the heads, the breasts of his assailants. Himself bleeding at
every pore, he felt not a smart while yet he defended Edwin. But a
shout was heard from the door, a faint cry was heard at his side. He
looked around. Edwin lay extended on the ground, with an arrow
quivering in his breast, his closing eyes still looking upward to his
friend. The beam fell from the hands of Wallace. He threw himself on
his knees beside him.
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