at last became reconciled to his wife and son passing the night with no
other canopy than the trees. Wallace ordered cloaks to be spread on
the ground for the countess and her women; and seeing them laid to
rest, planted his men to keep guard around the circle.

The moon had sunk in the west before the whole of his little camp were
asleep; but when all seemed composed, he wandered forth by the dim
light of the stars to view the surrounding country-a country he had so
often traversed in his boyish days. A little onward, in green
Renfrewshire, lay the lands of his father; but that Ellerslie of his
ancestors, like his own Ellerslie of Clydesdale, his country's enemies
had leveled with the ground. He turned in anguish of heart toward the
south, for there less racking remembrances hovered over the distant
hills.

Leaning on the shattered stump of an old tree, he fixed his eyes on the
far-stretching plain, which alone seemed to divide him from the
venerable Sir Ronald Crawford and his youthful haunts at Ayr. Full of
thoughts of her who used to share those happy scenes, he heard a sigh
behind him. He turned round, and beheld a female figure disappear
among the trees. He stood motionless; again it met his view; it seemed
to approach. A strange emotion stirred within him. When he last
passed these borders, he was bringing his bride from Ayr! What then
was this ethereal visitant? The silver light of the stars was not
brighter than its airy robes, which floated in the wind. His heart
paused-it beat violently-still the figure advanced. Lost in the
wilderness of his imagination, he exclaimed, "Marion!" and darted
forward, as if to rush into her embrace. But it fled, and again
vanished. He dropped upon the ground in speechless disappointment.