Monteith sat down with his hand on the box, and fixing his eyes on it, began: "I am going to mention a name, which you may hear with patience, since its power is no more.

The successful rival of Bruce, and the enemy of your family, is now a prisoner in the Tower of London." "Baliol ?" "Yes," answered Monteith; "and his present sufferings will, perhaps, avenge to you his vindictive resentment of the injury he received from Sir Ronald Crawford." "My grandfather never injured him, nor any man!" interrupted Wallace: "Sir Ronald Crawford was as incapable of injustice as of flattering the minions of his country's enemy.

But Baliol is fallen, and I forgive him." "Did you witness his degradation," returned Monteith, "you would even pity him." "I always pity the wicked," continued Wallace; "and as you seem ignorant of the cause of his enmity against Sir Ronald and myself, in justice to the character of that most venerable of men, I will explain it.

I first saw Baliol four years ago, when I accompanied my grandfather to witness the arbitration of the King of Scotland between the two contending claimants for the Scottish crown.

Sir Ronald came on the part of Bruce.