It was midnight--all was silent as they hurried through the glen, as they ascended with flying footsteps the steep acclivities that led to the cliffs which overhung the vale of Ellerslie.

Wallace must pass along their brow.

Beneath was the tomb of his sacrificed Marion! He rushed forward to snatch one look, even of the roof which shrouded her beloved remains.
But in the moment before he mounted the intervening height, a soldier in English armor crossed the path, and was seized by his men.

One of them would have cut him down, but Wallace turned away the weapon.
"Hold, Scot!" cried he, "you are not a Southron, to strike the defenseless.

The man has no sword." The reflection on their enemy which this plea of mercy contained reconciled the impetuous Scots to the clemency of their leader.