ithout
weapons of defence. The effect upon the garrison was as if a thunderbolt
had burst in the midst of them. Within half an hour, Fast Castle was in
the hands of the peasantry, and the entire soldiery who had defended it
had either fled, were slain, or made prisoners.

Besides striking the first blow, Madge had not permitted the sword of
her late husband to remain idle in her hands during the conflict. And,
as the conquerors gathered round Florence Wilson, to acknowledge to him
that to his counsel, presence of mind, and courage, as their leader, in
the midst of the confusion that prevailed, they owed their victory, and
the deliverance of the east of Berwickshire from its invaders, Madge
pressed forward, and, presenting him her husband's sword, said--

"Tak this, my son, and keep it--it was the sword o' a brave man, and to
a brave man I gie it--and this night shall ye be my son indeed."

"Thank ye, mother--mother!" said Florence. And as he spoke a faint smile
crossed his features.

But scarce had he taken the sword in his hand, ere a voice was heard,
crying--

"Where is he?--where shall I find him?--does he live?--where is my
mother?"

"Here, love!--here! It is my Janet!" cried Florence; but his voice
seemed to fail him as he spoke.

"Come here, my bairn," cried her mother, "and in the presence of these
witnesses receive a hand that ye may be proud o'."

As part of the garrison fled through Coldingham, Janet had heard of
the surprise by which the castle had been taken, and ran towards it to
gather tidings of her mother and affianced husband; for she now knew the
secret which they would not reveal to her.

As she rushed forward, the crowd that surrounded Florence gave way,
and, as he moved forward to meet her, it was observed that he shook or
staggered as he went; but it was thought no more of; and when she fell
upon his bosom, and her mother took their hands and pressed them
together, the multitude burst into a shout and blessed them. He strove
to speak--he muttered the word "Janet!" but his arms fell from her neck,
and he sank as lifeless on the ground.

"Florence! my Florence!--he is wounded--murdered!" cried the maiden, and
she flung herself beside him on the ground.

Madge and the spectators endeavoured to raise him; but his eyes were
closed; and, as he gasped, they with difficulty could understand the
words he strove to utter--"Water--water!"

He had, indeed, been wounded--mortally wounded--but he