Wyseby

OP THE FIRST IRVINGS. 85
Thus admonished, the old warrior began : —
" I was a child when the events which 1 am about
to narrate occurred, and my faithful Carrutherses
then owned my brave father's authority ; but from
his lips have I heard Marion's tale, when the noble
old man wept over her many sorrows, — mourning
that he had been made the instrument of inflicting
one, and grieving, that though he afforded her
protection in her desolate days, yet had he not
yielded her that consolation which was due to her
tender but valiant spirit. ' For the chief,' he would
say, ' is not the lord to rule only, but, holier far, the
father to comfort also.'
" Our house never had a braver retainer than
Walter of the Longsword. He stood high in the
favour of his chief. They had shared the perils of
many fields, and exulted in many victories. It is
trials and triumphs, faithfully shared, that bind noble
souls to noble souls — bind them, without regard to
condition. The soul of the chief and his grey retain-
er were bound thus. The dwelling of Walter stood
on the shores of the Solway, whose waves, when the
tempest maddened them, lashed its walls. It was a
rough neighbour, but the old soldier loved it well.
Its sparkling waters sparkled in his day-dreams of
sunny childhood ; and ever on quiet evenings, when
he stood by its side, he felt — how deceptive such
presentiments are ! — that its song would be the last
sound from outward nature that would fall upon his
ear. Woe ! woe ! to a land when its sons cease to love
its deep seas, and to worship, though dwelling in far
lands, its everlasting hills. Walter had three chil-
dren once; but two of them slept — they went to
vest 'mid the thunders of fierce conflict, and the tu-