Halbert burst into a fresh flood of tears, for he remembered how often it had been the delight of Marion to comb these bright tresses and to twist them round he ivory fingers.
Wallace looked up as the old man's sobs became audible, and read his thoughts: "It will never be again, Halbert," cried he, and with a firm grasp of the sword he cut off a large handful of his hair.
"Marion, thy blood hath marked it!" exclaimed he; "and every hair on my head shall be dyed of the same hue, before this sword is sheathed upon thy murderers.

Here, Halbert," continued he, knotting it together, "take this to the Earl of Mar; it is all, most likely, he will ever see again of William Wallace.

Should I fall, tell him to look on that, and in my wrongs read the future miseries of Scotland, and remember that God armoreth the patriot's hand.

Let him set on that conviction and Scotland may yet be free." Halbert placed the lock in his bosom, but again repeated his entreaties, that his master would accompany him to Bothwell Castle.

He urged the consolation he would meet from the good earl's friendship.
"If he indeed regard me," returned Wallace, "for my sake let him cherish you.