The morning was yet gray, and the fresh air blowing in rather chilly, Halbert rose to close the wooden shutter; at that moment, his eyes were arrested by a party of armed men in quick march down the opposite declivity.

In a few minutes more their heavy steps sounded in his ears, and he saw the platform before the house filled with English.

Alarmed at the sight, he was retreating across the apartment, toward his lady's room, when the great hall door was burst open by a band of soldiers, who rushed forward and seized him.
"Tell me, dotard!" cried their leader, a man of low stature, with gray locks, but a fierce countenance, "where is the murderer?
Where is Sir William Wallace?
Speak, or the torture shall force you." Halbert shuddered, but it was for his defenseless lady, not for himself.

"My master," said he, "is far from this." "Where ?" "I know not." "Thou shalt be made to know, thou hoary-headed villian!" cried the same violent interrogator.

"Where is the assassin's wife?
I will confront ye.