open the outer gate of the tower, the foundations of the building
shook, and Lady Mar, almost insensible with terror, received the
exhausted body of her husband into her arms; he fainted from the
transport his weakened frame was unable to hear. Soon after this the
stair-door was forced, and the panic-struck women ran shrieking into
the room to their mistress.

The countess could not speak, but sat pale and motionless, supporting
his head on her bosom. Guided by the noise, Lord Andrew flew into the
room, and rushing toward his uncle, fell at his feet. "Liberty!
Liberty!" was all he could say. His words pierced the ear of the earl
like a voice from heaven, and looking up, without a word, he threw his
arms round the neck of his nephew.

Tears relieved the contending feelings of the countess; and the women,
recognizing the young Lord of Bothwell, retired into a distant corner,
well assured they had now no cause for fear.

The earl rested but a moment on the panting breast of his nephew; when,
gazing round, to seek the mighty leader of the band, he saw Wallace
enter, with the step of security and triumph in his eyes.

"Ever my deliverer!" cried the venerable Mar, stretching forth his
arms. The next instant he held Wallace to his breast; and remembering
all that he had lost for his sake since they parted, a soldier's heart
melted, and he burst into tears. "Wallace, my preserver; thou victim
for Scotland, and for me-or rather, thou chosen of Heaven; who, by the
sacrifice of all thou didst hold dear on earth, art made a blessing to
thy country!-receive my thanks, and my heart."