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the eastern horizon, sleep on!—Roderick, when thou again beholdest me, the event of my predictions will be at hand, and the turrets of Glenross will be delivered to the flames; but already it is in part accomplished, the dove is within the gripe of the ravening kite. Return with the dawn of day to thy home, Wallace of Glenross is no more;
"Woe to the race of Strathmore."
"Woe to the Golden Falcon,"
"Woe to the turrets of Glenross!"
As she spoke, a furious blast blew far and wide the sparkling embers of the fire, a cloud passed over the bright luminary of night, and the scene was enveloped in total darkness.
The freebooters who had seized Wallace bore him, still insensible, to the verge of the forest, and halted at the foot of the stupendous mountain, whose perpendicular and craggy sides, defied the efforts of the most adventurous to ascend. One of them then taking a bugle from his side, blew a long and shrill blast, which was answered from the summit of the precipice, and in a few moments the trunk of an old oak which grew at the foot, and appeared almost cæval with time, slowly unclosed, and discovered a long passage sufficiently wide to allow two persons to walk abreast.
The steed of Wallace was then stript of its trappings and turned loose into the wood, whilst the men bearing him in their arms, entered the aperture, which immediately closed after them. The passage was lighted by numerous lamps, at regular distances, and winding round the rock, ended in a cavern of immense extent, lofty and lighted as the passage.
The captain, who was reclining on a couch, arose at their entrance, and the men laid Wallace on the seat he had quitted. "Who have we here?" he exclaimed, "The boy your directed us to way-lay," replied Samson,—"You are mistaken, this youth I know not: how cold he is, and low came this contusion on his forehead, did I not command you to use no violence?" "Nor did we Captain; he tumbled from his horse with fright, if he is
