The blood mounted into his before pale cheeks; he held out his sword in silence to the victor; for he could not bring his tongue to pronounce the word "surrender." Wallace understood the sign, and holding up his hand to a herald, the trumpet of peace was raised.

It sounded--and where, the moment before, were the horrid clashing of arms, the yell of savage conquest, and direful cries for mercy, all was hushed as death.

Not that death which had passed, but that which is approaching .-- None spoke, not a sound was heard, but the low groans of the dying, who lay, overwhelmed and perishing, beneath the bodies of the slain, and the feet of the living.
The voice of Wallace rose from this awful pause.

Its sound was ever the harbinger of glory, or of "good will to men." "Soldiers!" cried he, "God has given victory--let us show our gratitude by moderation and mercy.

Gather the wounded into quarters and bury the dead." Wallace then turned to the extended sword of the earl; he put it gently back with his hand: "Ever wear what you honor," said he; "but, gallant Montgomery, when you draw it next, let it be in a better cause.