Regret follows close upon the heels of incensed love.  Alexander Hume had not been many paces from his own house, when his wife saw, in its proper light, the true character of her situation.  Her husband had gone on a perilous enterprise.  He might perish.  She had perhaps got her last look of him who was dearest to her bosom.  That look was in anger.  The idea was terrible.  Those who know the strength and delicacy of the feelings of true affection may conceive the situation of Margaret Hume.  Unable to control herself, she threw her child into its crib, and rushed out of the house.  One parting glance of reconciliation was all she wanted.  She hurried through the town with an excited and terrified aspect, searching everywhere for her husband.  He had departed with his companions; and Margaret was left in the agony of one whose sorrow is destined to be increased by the workings of an excited fancy, and the remorseful feelings of self-impeachment.

In the meantime, Hume having joined his companions, proceeded to the main army of the king, which was encamped on the hill of Flodden, lying on the left of the river Till.  The party with which he was associated put themselves under the command of Lord Home; who, with the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, led the left of the van of the Scottish army.  This part of the king’s troops, it is well known, was opposed to Sir Edmund Howard.  They were early engaged, and fought so successfully that Howard soon stood in need of succour from Lord Dacre, to save him from being speared on the field.

In this struggle Alexander Hume displayed the greatest prowess.  He was seen in every direction dealing out death wherever he went.  He was not, however, alone.  His companions kept well up to him; and, in particular, one individual, who had joined the party as they approached the field, fought with a bravery equal to that of Hume himself.  That person kept continually by his side, and seemed to consider the brave Borderer as his chosen companion-in-arms, whom he was bound to defend through all the perils of the fight.  A leather haubergeon and an iron helmet, in which there was placed a small white feather, plucked from a cock’s wing, constituted the armour of this brave seconder of Hume’s gallantry.  When Hume was attacked by the English with more force than his individual arm could sustain, no one of his companions was more ready to bring him aid than this individual.  On several occasions he may be said to have saved his life, for Hume’s recklessness drew him often into the very midst of the fight, where he must have perished had it not been for the timely assistance of his friend.  On one occasion, in particular, an Englishman came behind him, and was in the very act of inserting a spear between the clasps of his armour, when his companion struck the dastardly fellow to the earth, and resumed the fight in front of the battle.