She stretched her hands to heaven.

“Blessed Virgin, to thee I commit myself.”

“Speak!” cried the governor, drawing his sword.  She sank to the ground.  “Kneel not to me for mercy!”

“I kneel to heaven alone,” she said firmly, “and may it ever preserve my Wallace!”

“Blasphemous wretch!” cried the governor, and he plunged the sword through her heart.

A shudder of horror ran through the English soldiers.

“My friends,” said Heselrigge, “I reward your services with the plunder of Ellerslie.”

“Cursed be he who first carries a stick from its walls!” exclaimed a veteran.

“Amen!” murmured all the soldiers.

But next day the governor, with a body of soldiers who had not witnessed his infamous deed, plundered Ellerslie and burnt it to the ground.  During the day Lord Mar was brought from his hiding-place, and taken to Bothwell Castle; but the English seized him and his wife, and they were placed in strict confinement among the English garrison on the Rock of Dumbarton.

An aged retainer carried the awful news of the murder to Wallace in his concealment.  For long he was overpowered with agony.  Then a desperate determination arose in his mind.  “The sun must not again rise upon Heselrigge!” was his thought.  He called his followers, and told them of the deed.  “From this hour,” he cried, “may Scotland date her liberty, or Wallace return no more!”

“Vengeance! vengeance!” was the cry.

That night the English garrison of Lanark was surprised, and Wallace’s sword was buried in the body of his wife’s murderer.

“So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!” shouted his men exultantly.

“Rather so fall the enemies of Scotland!” cried he.  “Henceforth Wallace has neither love nor resentment but for her.  From now onwards I devote myself to the winning of my country’s freedom, or to death in her cause.”

II.—­Wallace the Liberator

Band after band of Scottish patriots flocked to the banner of Wallace—­ the banner that bore the legend “God armeth the patriot,” and in which was embroidered a tress of Lady Marion’s hair.  The making of it had been the labour of Lady Helen Mar, daughter of the earl; admiration for Wallace’s prowess, and sympathy with his misfortune had aroused in her—­although she had never seen him—­an eager devotion to him as the man who had dared to strike at tyranny and fight for his country’s freedom.

When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St. Fillans.  But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her hand had the secret approval of Lady Mar.  When the ruffian laid hold upon her, he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis and his band were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell suddenly upon them.  Soulis was forced