s wife was
uttered in his heart.

The fire continued its rapid progress, buttress after buttress, tower
after tower caught on the walls, causing the conflagration to continue,
even when, by the most strenuous efforts, it had been partially
extinguished amongst the dwellings of the court. The wind blowing from
the north fortunately preserved the keep, inner wall, and even the
church, uninjured, save that the scorched and blackened sides of the
latter gave evidence of the close vicinity of the flames, and how
narrowly it had escaped. With saddened hearts, the noble defenders of
Scotland's last remaining bulwark, beheld their impregnable wall, the
scene of such dauntless valor, such unconquered struggles, against which
the whole force of their mighty foes had been of no avail--that wall
crumbling into dust and ashes in their very sight, opening a broad
passage to the English foe. Yet still there was no evidence that to
yield were preferable than to die; still, though well-nigh exhausted
with their herculean efforts to quench the flames, there was no
cessation, no pause, although the very height of the wall prevented
success, for they had not the facilities afforded by the engines of the
present day. Sir Nigel, his knights, nay, the venerable abbot himself,
seconded every effort of the men. It seemed as if little more could add
to the horror of the scene, and yet the shouts of "The granaries, the
granaries--merciful heaven, all is consumed!" came with such appalling
consciousness on every ear, that for a brief while, the stoutest arm
hung powerless, the firmest spirit quailed. Famine stood suddenly before
them as a gaunt, terrific spectre, whose cold hand it seemed had grasped
their very hearts. Nobles and men, knights and soldiers, alike stood
paralyzed, gazing at each other with a blank, dim, unutterable despair.
The shrill blast of many trumpets, the roll of heavy drums, broke that
deep stillness. "The foe! the foe!" was echoed round, fiercely, yet
rejoicingly. "They are upon us--they brave the flames--well done! Now
firm and steady; to your arms--stand close. Sound trumpets--the
defiance, the Bruce and Scotland!" and sharply and clearly, as if but
just arrayed for battle, as if naught had chanced to bend those gallant
spirits to the earth, the Scottish clarions sent back their answering
blast, and the men gathered in compact array around their gallant
leader.

"My horse--my horse!" shouted Nigel Bruce, as he sprung fr