Oh! till then, only give me leave to love thee, and I shall be happy!" "You dishonor yourself, lady," returned he, "by these petitions, and for what?
You plunge your soul in guilty wishes--you sacrifice your peace, and your self-esteem, to a phantom; for I repeat, I am dead to woman; and the voice of love sounds like the funeral knell of her who will never breathe it to me again." He arose as he spoke, and the countess, pierced to the heart, and almost despairing of now retaining any part in its esteem, was devising what next to say, when Murray came into the room.
Wallace instantly observed that his countenance was troubled.

"What has happened ?" inquired he.
"A messenger from the mainland, with bad news from Ayr." "Of private or public import ?" asked Wallace.
"Of both.

There has been a horrid massacre, in which the heads of many noble families have fallen." As he spoke, the paleness of his countenance revealed to his friend that part of the information he had found himself unable to communicate.
"I comprehend my loss," cried Wallace; "Sir Ronald Crawford is sacrificed! Bring the messenger in." Murray withdrew; and Wallace, seating himself, remained with a fixed and stern countenance, gazing on the ground.

Lady Mar durst not breathe for fear of disturbing the horrid stillness which seemed to lock up his grief and indignation.
Lord Andrew re-entered with a stranger, Wallace rose to meet him, and seeing Lady mar-"Countess," said he, "these bloody recitals are not for your ears;" and waving her to withdraw, she left the room.
"This gallant stranger," said Murray, "is Sir John Graham.

He has just left that new theater of Southron perfidy." "I have hastened hither," cried the knight, "to call your victorious arm to take a signal vengeance on the murderers of your grandfather.
He, and eighteen other Scottish chiefs, have been treacherously put to death in the Barns of Ayr." Graham then gave a brief narration of the direful circumstance.