This noble conduct was not unappreciated by Hume; for where is bravery found segregated from gratitude and generosity?  He called upon him, even in the midst of the battle, for his name, that he might, in the event of their being separated, recollect and commemorate his friendship.  The request was not complied with, but the superintending and saving arm of the stranger continued to be exercised in favour of the Borderer.  They fought together to the end of the battle.  The result of the bloody contest is but too well known.  The strains of poetry have carried the wail of bereavement to the ends of the earth, and sorrow has claimed the sounds as its own individual expression.

The Scottish troops took their flight in different directions.  Hume and his companions were obliged to lie in secret for a considerable time in the surrounding forests.  He made many inquiries among his friends for the individual who had fought with him so bravely and saved his life.  He could find no trace of him, beyond the information that he had disappeared when Hume had given up the fight.  The direction in which he went was unknown; nor could any one tell the place from which he came.

The people of Selkirk who had been in the fight, sought their town as soon as they could with safety get out of the reach of the English.  Their numbers formed a sorry contrast to those who had, with light hearts and high hopes, sought the field of battle; and it has been reported that when the wretched wounded and bloodstained remnant entered the town, a cry of sorrow was raised by the inhabitants collected to meet them, the remembrance of which remained on the hearts of their children long after those who uttered it had been consigned with their griefs to the grave.

Hume, who had also grievously repented of the harsh words he had applied to his beloved wife on the occasion of their separation, was all impatience to clasp her to his bosom, and seal their reconciliation with a kiss of repentance and love.  Leaving his companions as they entered the town, he flew to the house.  He approached the door.  He reached it with a trembling heart.  He had prepared the kind words of salutation.  He had wounds to show, and to get dressed by the tender hand of sympathy.  Lifting the latch, he entered.  No one came to meet him.  No sound, either of wife or child, met his ear.  On looking round he saw, sitting in an arm-chair, the person who had accompanied him in battle, wearing the same haubergeon, the same helmet, the individual white feather that had attracted his attention.  That person was Margaret Hume.  She was dead.  Her head reclined on the back of the chair, her arms hung by her side, the edge of her haubergeon was uplifted, and at her white bosom, from which flowed streams of blood, her child sucked the milk of a dead mother. Omissis nugis rem experiamur.

END OF VOL.  XXIII.