A single glance sufficed to tell her tale.

Her face was swollen with crying, and wore a look of horror as well as of grief.
"She is dead!" Wallace exclaimed in a low voice.
"Alas!" the woman sobbed, "that I should have to tell it.

Yes, my dear mistress is dead; she was slain by the orders of the governor himself, for having aided your escape." A groan burst from Wallace, a cry of horror and indignation from his followers.

The former turned, and without a word strode away and threw himself upon the heather.

The others, heart struck at the cruel blow which had befallen their chief, and burning with indignation and rage, could only utter oaths of vengeance and curses on the English tyrants.
After a time Grahame went to the cave, and putting his hand on Wallace's shoulder strove to address a few words of consolation to him.
Sir William rose: "I have done with weeping, Grahame, or rather I will put off my weeping until I have time for it.