though less clamorous terror.

At the shouts of the Scots, when they began the attack, the earl had
started from his couch. "That is not peace!" said he; "there is some
surprise!"

"Alas, from whom?" returned Lady Mar; "who would venture to attack a
fortress like this, garrisoned with thousands?"

The cry was repeated.

"It is the slogan of Sir William Wallace!" cried he; "I shall be free!
O, for a sword! Hear, hear!"

As the shouts redoubled, and, mingled with the various clangors of
battle, drew nearer the tower, the impatience of the earl could not be
restrained. Hope and eagerness seemed to have dried up his wounds and
new-strung every nerve, while unarmed as he was, he rushed from the
apartment, and hurried down the stairs which led to the iron door. He
found it so firmly fastened by bars and padlocks, he could not move it.
Again he ascended to his terrified wife, who, conscious how little
obligation Wallace owed to her, perhaps dreaded even more to see her
husband's hopes realized than to find herself yet more rigidly the
prisoner of the haughty De Valence.

"Joanna!" cried he, "the arm of God is with us. My prayers are heard.
Scotland will yet be free. Hear those groans-those shouts. Victory!
victory!"

As he thus echoed the cry of triumph uttered by the Scots when bursting