At least, darling of my soul, if I am unable to save thee, I can show thee how a man should die." While Torquil thus spoke, he unloosed the clasps of the young chief's hauberk, in the simple belief that he could thus break the meshes which fear and necromancy had twined about his heart.
"My father--my father--my more than parent," said the unhappy Eachin, "stay with me! With you by my side, I feel I can fight to the last." "It is impossible," said Torquil.

"I will stop them coming up, while you put on the hauberk.

God eternally bless thee, beloved of my soul!" And then, brandishing his sword, Torquil of the Oak rushed forward with the same fatal war cry which had so often sounded over that bloody field, "Bas air son Eachin!" The words rung three times in a voice of thunder; and each time that he cried his war shout he struck down one of the Clan Chattan as he met them successively straggling towards him.
"Brave battle, hawk--well flown, falcon!" exclaimed the multitude, as they witnessed exertions which seemed, even at this last hour, to threaten a change of the fortunes of the day.

Suddenly these cries were hushed into silence, and succeeded by a clashing of swords so dreadful, as if the whole conflict had recommenced in the person of Henry Wynd and Torquil of the Oak.

They cut, foined, hewed, and thrust as if they had drawn their blades for the first time that day; and their inveteracy was mutual, for Torquil recognised the foul wizard who, as he supposed, had cast a spell over his child; and Henry saw before him the giant who, during the whole conflict, had interrupted the purpose for which alone he had joined the combatants--that of engaging in single combat with Hector.