The Scottish Chiefsby Miss Jane Porter

Chapter I. 

Scotland. 

Bright was the summer of 1296. The war which had desolated Scotlandwas then at an end. Ambition seemed satiated; and the vanquished, after having passed under the yoke of their enemy, concluded they mightwear their chains in peace. Such were the hopes of those Scottishnoblemen who, early in the preceding spring, had signed the bond ofsubmission to a ruthless conqueror, purchasing life at the price of allthat makes life estimable-liberty and honor. 

Prior to this act of vassalage, Edward I. , King of England, had enteredScotland at the head of an immense army. He seized Berwick bystratagem; laid the country in ashes; and, on the field of Dunbar, forced the Scottish king and his nobles to acknowledge him their liegelord. 

But while the courts of Edward, or of his representatives, were crowdedby the humbled Scots, the spirit of one brave man remained unsubdued. Disgusted alike at the facility with which the sovereign of a warlikenation could resign his people and his crown into the hands of atreacherous invader, and at the pusillanimity of the nobles who hadratified the sacrifice, William Wallace retired to the glen ofEllerslie. Withdrawn from the world, he hoped to avoid the sight ofoppressions he could not redress, and the endurance of injuries beyondhis power to avenge. 

Thus checked at the opening of life in the career of glory that was hispassion-secluded in the bloom of manhood from the social haunts ofmen-he repressed the eager aspirations of his mind, and strove toacquire that resignation to inevitable evils which alone couldreconcile him to forego the promises of his youth, and enable him toview with patience a humiliation of Scotland, which blighted her honor, menaced her existence, and consigned her sons to degradation orobscurity. The latter was the choice of Wallace. Too noble to bendhis spirit to the usurper, too honest to affect submission, he resignedhimself to the only way left of maintaining the independence of a trueScot; and giving up the world at once, all the ambitions of youthbecame extinguished in his breast, since nothing was preserved in hiscountry to sanctify their fires. Scotland seemed proud of her chains. Not to share in such debasement, appeared all that was now in hispower; and within the shades of Ellerslie he found a retreat and ahome, whose sweets beguiling him of every care, made him sometimesforget the wrongs of his country in the tranquil enjoyments of weddedlove. 

During the happy mouths of the preceding autumn, while Scotland was yetfree, and the path of honorable distinction still open before her youngnobility, Wallace married Marion Braidfoot, the beautiful heiress ofLammington. Nearly of the same age, and brought up from childhoodtogether, reciprocal affection had grown with their growth; andsympathy of tastes and virtues, and mutual tenderness, made them soentirely one, that when at the age of twenty-two the enraptured loverwas allowed to pledge that faith publicly at the altar, which he had sooften vowed in secret to his Marion, he clasped her to his heart, andsoftly whispered: "Dearer than life! part of my being! blessed is thisunion, that mingles thy soul with mine, now, and forever!"

Edward's invasion of Scotland broke in upon their innocent joys. Wallace threw aside the wedding garment for the cuirass and the sword. But he was not permitted long to use either-Scotland submitted to herenemies; and he had no alternative but to bow to her oppressors, or tobecome an exile from man, amid the deep glens of his country. 

The tower of Ellerslie was henceforth the lonely abode of himself andhis bride. The neighboring nobles avoided him, because the principleshe declared were a tacit reproach on their proceedings; and in thecourse of a short time, as he forbore to seek them, they even forgotthat he was in existence. Indeed, all occasions of mixing with societyhe now rejected. The hunting-spear with which he had delighted tofollow the flying roebuck from glade to glade, the arrows with which heused to bring down the heavy ptarmigan or the towering eagle, all werelaid aside. Scottish liberty was no more; and Wallace would haveblushed to have shown himself to the free-born deer of his nativehills, in communion of sports with the spoilers of his country. Had hepursued his once favorite exercises, he must have mingled with theEnglish, now garrisoned in every town, and who passed their hours ofleisure in the chase. 

Being resigned to bury his youth-since its strength could no longer beserviceable to his country-books, his harp, and the sweet converse ofhis tender Marion, became the occupations of his days. Ellerslie washis hermitage; and there, closed from the world, with an angel hiscompanion, he might have forgotten Edward was lord in Scotland, had notthat which was without his little paradise made a way to its gates, andshowed him the slavery of the nobles and the wretchedness of thepeople. In these cases, his generous hand gave succor where it couldnot bring redress. Those whom the lawless plunderer had driven fromtheir houses or stripped of their covering, found shelter, clothing, and food at the house of Sir William Wallace. 

Ellerslie was the refuge of the friendless, and the comfort of theunhappy. Wherever Lady Wallace moved-whether looking out from herwindow on the accidental passenger, or taking her morning or moonlightwalks through the glen, leaning on the arm of her husband-she had therapture of hearing his steps greeted and followed by the blessings ofthe poor destitute, and the prayers of them who were ready to perish. It was then that this happy woman would raise her husband's hands toher lips, and in silent adoration, thank God for blessing her with abeing made so truly in his own image. 

Several months of this blissful and uninterrupted solitude had elapsed, when Lady Wallace saw a chieftain at her gate. He inquired for itsmaster-requested a private conference-and retired with him into aremote room. They remained together for an hour. Wallace then cameforth, and ordering his horse, with four followers, to be in readiness, said he meant to accompany his guest to Douglas Castle. When heembraced his wife at parting, he told her that as Douglas was only afew miles distant, he should be at home again before the moon rose. 

She passed the tedious hours of his absence with tranquillity, till theappointed signal of his return appeared from behind the summits of theopposite mountains. So bright were its beams, that Marion did not needany other light to show her the stealing sands of her hour-glass, asthey numbered the prolonged hours of her husband's stay. She dismissedher servants to their rest; all, excepting Halbert, the gray-hairedharper of Wallace; and he, like herself, was too unaccustomed to theabsence of his master to find sleep visit his eyes while Ellerslie wasbereft of its joy and its guard. 

As the night advanced, Lady Wallace sat in the window of herbed-chamber, which looked toward the west. She watched the windingpathway that led from Lanark down the opposite heights, eager to catcha glimpse of the waving plumes of her husband when he should emergefrom behind the hill, and pass under the thicket which overhung theroad. How often, as a cloud obscured for an instant the moon's light, and threw a transitory shade across the path, did her heart bound withthe thought that her watching was at an end! It was he whom she hadseen start from the abrupt rock! They were the folds of his tartanthat darkened the white cliff! But the moon again rolled through hertrain of clouds and threw her light around. Where then was herWallace? Alas! it was only a shadow she had seen! the hill was stilllonely, and he whom she sought was yet far away! Overcome withwatching, expectation, and disappointment, unable to say whence aroseher fears, she sat down again to look; but her eyes were blinded withtears, and in a voice interrupted by sighs she exclaimed, "Not yet, notyet! Ah, my Wallace, what evil hath betided thee?"

Trembling with a nameless terror, she knew not what to dread. Shebelieved that all hostile recounters had ceased, when Scotland nolonger contended with Edward. The nobles, without remonstrance, hadsurrendered their castles into the hands of the usurper; and thepeasantry, following the example of their lords, had allowed theirhomes to be ravaged without lifting an arm in their defense. Opposition being over, nothing could then threaten her husband from theenemy; and was not the person who had taken him from Ellerslie a friend?

Before Wallace's departure he had spoken to Marion alone; he told herthat the stranger was Sir John Monteith, the youngest son of the braveWalter Lord Monteith, ** who had been treacherously put to death by theEnglish in the early part of the foregoing year. This young man wasbequeathed by his dying father to the particular charge of his friendWilliam Lord Douglas, at that time governor of Berwick. After the fallof that place and the captivity of its defender, Sir Jon Monteith hadretired to Douglas Castle, in the vicinity of Lanark, and was now thesole master of that princely residence: James Douglas, the only son ofits veteran lord, being still at Paris, whither he had been dispatched, before the defeat at Dunbar, to negotiate a league between the Frenchmonarch and the then King of Scots. 

**Walter Stewart, the father of Sir John Monteith, assumed the name andearldom of Monteith in right of his wife, the daughter and heiress ofthe preceding earl. When his wife died he married an Englishwoman ofrank, who, finding him ardently attached to the liberties of hiscountry, cut him off by poison, and was rewarded by the enemies ofScotland for this murder with the hand of a British nobleman. -(1809. )

Informed of the privacy in which Wallace wished to live, Monteith hadnever ventured to disturb it until this day; but knowing the steadyhonor of his old school-companion, he came to entreat him, by therespect he entertained for the brave Douglas, and by his love for hiscountry, that he would not refuse to accompany him to the brave exile'scastle. 

"I have a secret to disclose to you, " said he, "which cannot bedivulged on any other spot. "

Unwilling to deny so small a favor, Wallace, as has been said before, consented; and accordingly was conducted by Monteith toward Douglas. 

While descending the heights which led to the castle, Monteith kept aprofound silence; and when crossing the drawbridge toward it, he puthis finger to his lips, in token to the servants for equal caution. This was explained as they entered the gate and looked around. It wasguarded by English soldiers. Wallace would have drawn back; butMonteith laid his hand on his arm, and whispered, "For your country!"At these words, a spell to the ear of Wallace, he proceeded; and hisattendants followed into the courtyard. 

The sun was just setting as Monteith led his friend into the absentearl's room. Its glowing reflection on the distant hills remindedWallace of the stretch he had to retread to reach his home beforemidnight; and thinking of his anxious Marion, he awaited withimpatience the development of the object of his journey. 

Monteith closed the door, looked fearfully around for some time; then, trembling at every step, approached Wallace. When drawn quite near, ina low voice he said, "You must swear upon the cross that you will keepinviolate the secret I am going to reveal. "

Wallace put aside the hilt of the sword which Monteith presented toreceive his oath. "No, " said he, with a smile; "in these times I willnot bind my conscience on subjects I do not know. If you dare trustthe word of a Scotsman and a friend, speak out; and if the matter behonest, my honor is your pledge. "

"You will not swear?"

"No. "

"Then I must not trust you. "

"Then our business is at an end, " returned Wallace, rising, "and I mayreturn home. "

"Stop!" cried Monteith. "Forgive me, my old companion, that I havedared to hesitate. These are, indeed, times of such treason to honor, that I do not wonder you should be careful how you swear; but thenature of the confidence reposed in me will. I hope, convince you thatI ought not to share it rashly. Of any one but you, whose truth standsunsullied, amidst the faithlessness of the best, I would exact oaths onoaths; but your words is given, and on that I rely. Await me here. "

Monteith unlocked a door which had been concealed by the tapestry, andafter a short absence re-entered with a small iron box. He set it onthe table near his friend, then went to the great door, which he hadbefore so carefully closed, tried that the bolts were secure, andreturned, with a still more pallid countenance, toward the table. Wallace, surprised at so much actions, awaited with wonder the promisedexplanation. Monteith sat down with his hand on the box, and fixinghis eyes on it, began:

"I am going to mention a name, which you may hear with patience, sinceits power is no more. The successful rival of Bruce, and the enemy ofyour family, is now a prisoner in the Tower of London. "

"Baliol?"

"Yes, " answered Monteith; "and his present sufferings will, perhaps, avenge to you his vindictive resentment of the injury he received fromSir Ronald Crawford. "

"My grandfather never injured him, nor any man!" interrupted Wallace:"Sir Ronald Crawford was as incapable of injustice as of flattering theminions of his country's enemy. But Baliol is fallen, and I forgivehim. "

"Did you witness his degradation, " returned Monteith, "you would evenpity him. "

"I always pity the wicked, " continued Wallace; "and as you seemignorant of the cause of his enmity against Sir Ronald and myself, injustice to the character of that most venerable of men, I will explainit. I first saw Baliol four years ago, when I accompanied mygrandfather to witness the arbitration of the King of Scotland betweenthe two contending claimants for the Scottish crown. Sir Ronald cameon the part of Bruce. I was deemed too young to have a voice in thecouncil; but I was old enough to understand what was passing there, andto perceive, that it was the price for which he sold his country. However, as Scotland acknowledged him sovereign, and as Brucesubmitted, my grandfather silently acquiesced. But Baliol did notforget former opposition. His behavior to Sir Ronald and myself at thebeginning of this year, when, according to the privilege of our birth, we appeared in the field against the public enemy, fully demonstratedwhat was the injury Baliol complains of, and how unjustly he drove usfrom the standard of Scotland. 'None, ' said he, 'shall serve under me, who presumed to declare themselves the friends of Bruce. ' Poor weakman. The purchased vassal of England; yet so vain of his ideal throne, he hated all who had opposed his elevation, even while his owntreachery sapped its foundation! Edward having made use of him, allthese sacrifices of honor and of conscience are insufficient to retainhis favor; and Baliol is removed from his kingdom to an English prison! Can I feel anything so honoring as indignation against a wretch soabject? No! I do indeed pity him. And now that I have cleared mygrandfather's name of such calumny, I am ready to hear you further. "

Monteith, after remarking on the well-known honor of Sir RonaldCrawford, resumed. 

"During the massacre at the capture of Berwick, Lord Douglas, wounded, and nearly insensible, was taken by a trusty band of Scots out of thecitadel and town. I followed him to Dunbar, and witnessed with himthat dreadful day's conflict, which completed the triumph of theEnglish. When the few nobles who survived the battle dispersed, Douglas took the road to Forfar, hoping to meet King Baliol there, andto concert with him new plans of resistance. When we arrived, we foundhis majesty in close conversation with the Earl of Athol, who hadpersuaded him the disaster at Dunbar was decisive, and that if hewished to save his life, he must immediately go to the King of England, then at Montrose, and surrender himself to his mercy. **

**This treacherous Scot, who persuaded Baliol to his ruin, was JohnCummin of Strathbogie, Earl of Athol in right of his wife, the heiressof that earldom. -(1809. )

"Douglas tried to alter Baliol's resolution, but without effect. Theking could not return any reasonable answers to the arguments whichwere offered to induce him to remain, but continued to repeat, withgroans and tears. 'It is my fate. ' Athol sat knitting his black browsduring this conversation; and at last throwing out some sullen remarksto Lord Douglas on exhorting the king to defy his liege lord, heabruptly left the room. 

"As soon as he was gone, Baliol rose from his seat with a very anxiouscountenance, and taking my patron into an adjoining room, theycontinued there a few minutes, and then reentered. Doublas broughtwith him this iron box. 'Monteith, ' said he, 'I confide this to yourcare. ' Putting the box under my arm and concealing it with mycloak-'Carry it, ' continued he, 'directly to my castle in Lanarkshire. I will rejoin you there, in four-and-twenty hours after your arrival. Meanwhile, by your affection for me and fidelity to your king, breathenot a word of what has passed. '

"'Look on that, and be faithful!' said Baliol, putting this ruby ringon my finger. I withdrew, with the haste his look dictated; and as Icrossed the outward hall, was met by Athol. He eyed me sternly, andinquired whither I was going. I replied, 'To Douglas, to prepare forthe coming of its lord. ' The hall was full of armed men in Athol'scolors. Not one of the remnant who had followed my patron from thebloody field of Dunbar was visible. Athol looked round on hismyrmidons: 'Here, ' cried he, 'see that you speed this fellow on hisjourney. We shall provide lodgings for his master. ' I foresaw dangerto Lord Douglas, but I durst not attempt to warn him of it; and, tosecure my charge, which a return to the room might have hazarded, Ihastened into the courtyard, and being permitted to mount my horse, setoff at full speed. 

"On arriving at this place, I remembered the secret closet, andcarefully deposited the box within it. A week passed, without anytidings of Lord Douglas. At last a pilgrim appeared at the gate, andrequested to see me alone; fearing nothing from a man in so sacred ahabit, I admitted him. Presenting me with a packet which had beenintrusted to him by Lord Douglas, he told me my patron had beenforcibly carried on board a vessel at Montrose, to be conveyed with theunhappy Baliol to the Tower of London. Douglas, on this outrage, sentto the monastery at Aberbrothick, and under the pretense of making areligious confession before he sailed, begged a visit from thesub-prior. 'I am that prior, ' continued the pilgrim; 'and having beenborn on the Douglas lands, he well knew the claim he had to myfidelity. He gave me this packet, and conjured me to lose no time inconveying it to you. The task was difficult; and, as in thesecalamitous seasons we hardly know whom to trust, I determined toexecute it myself. '

"I inquired whether Lord Douglas had actually sailed. 'Yes, ' repliedthe father; 'I stood on the beach till the ship disappeared. '"

A half-stifled groan burst from the indignant breast of Wallace. Itinterrupted Monteith for an instant, but without noticing it heproceeded:

"Not only the brave Douglas was then wrested from his country, with ourking, but also that holy pillar of Jacob** which prophets have declaredto be the palladium of Scotland!"

**The tradition respecting this stone is as follows: Hiber, or Iber, the Phoenician, who came from the Holy Land to inhabit the coast ofSpain, brought this sacred relic along with him. From Spain hetransplanted it with the colony he sent to people the south of Ireland;and from Ireland it was brought into Scotland by the great Fergus, theson of Ferchard. He placed it in Argyleshire; but MacAlpine removed itto Scone, and fixed it in the royal chair in which all the succeedingkings of Scotland were inaugurated. Edward I. Of England caused it tobe carried to Westminster Abbey, where it now stands. The traditionis, that empire abides where it stays. -(1809. )

"What!" inquired Wallace, with a yet darker frown, "has Baliol robbedScotland of that trophy of one of her best kings? Is the sacred gift ofFergus to be made the spoil of a coward?"

"Baliol is not the robber, " rejoined Monteith; "the halloed pillar wastaken from Scone by the command of the King of England, and, with thesackings of Iona, was carried on board the same vessel with thebetrayed Douglas. The archives of the kingdom have also been torn fromtheir sanctuary, and were thrown by Edward's own hands into the fire. "

"Tyrant!" murmured Wallace, "thou mayest fill the cup too full. "

"His depredations, " continued Monteith, "the good monk told me, havebeen wide as destructive. He has not left a parchment, either ofpublic records or of private annals, in any of the monasteries orcastles round Montrose; all have been searched and plundered. Andbesides, the faithless Earl of March and Lord Sculis are suchparricides of their country, as to have performed the like robberies, in his name, from the eastern shores of the Highlands to the furthiestof the Western Isles. "

"Do the traitors think, " cried Wallace, "that by robbing Scotland ofher annals and of that stone they really deprive her of her palladium?Scotland's history is in the memories of her sons; her palladium is intheir hearts; and Edward may one day find that she remembers thevictory of Largs, ** and needs not talismans to give her freedom. "

**This battle was fought by Alexander III, on the 1st of August, 1263, against Acho, King of Norway. That monarch invaded Scotland with alarge army, and drew up his forces before Largs, a town in Ayrshire. He met with a great defeat, and, covered with disgrace, retired to hisown country. Wallace's father signalized himself on that field. -(1809. )

"Alas! not in our time!" answered Monteith. "The spear is at ourbreasts, and we must submit. You see this castle is full of Edward'ssoldiers. Every house is a garrison for England-but more of this byand by; I have yet to tell you the contents of the packet which themonk brought. It contained two others. One directed to Sir JamesDouglas, at Paris, and the other to me. I read as follows:

"'Athol has persuaded Baliol to his ruin, and betrayed me into thehands of Edward. I shall see Scotland no more. Send the inclosed tomy son at Paris; it will inform him what is the last wish of WilliamDouglas for his country. The iron box I confided to you, guard as yourlife, until you can deposit it with my son. But should he remainabroad, and you ever be in extremity, commit the box in strict chargeto the worthiest Scot you know; and tell him that it will be at theperil of his soul, who dares to open it, till Scotland be again free!When that hour comes, then let the man by whose valor God restores herrights, receive the box as his own; for by him only it is to be opened. Douglas. '"

Monteith finished reading the letter, and remained silent. Wallace, who had listened to it with increasing indignation against the enemiesof Scotland, spoke first: "Tell me in what I can assist you: or howserve these last wishes of the imprisoned Douglas. "

Monteith replied by reading over again this sentence-"'Should my sonremain abroad, and you ever be in extremity, commit the box in strictcharge to the worthiest Scot you know. ' I am in that extremity now. Edward determined on desolation, when he placed English governorsthroughout our towns; and the rapacious Heselrigge, his representativein Lanark, not backward to execute the despot's will, has just issuedan order, for the houses of all the absent chiefs to be searched forrecords and secret correspondence. Two or three, in the neighborhoodhave already gone through this ordeal; but the even has proved that itwas not papers they sought, but plunder, and an excuse for dismantlingthe castles, or occupying them with English officers. 

"The soldiers you saw were sent, by daybreak this morning, to guardthis castle until Heselrigge could in person be present at theexamination. This ceremony is to take place to-morrow; and as LordDouglas is considered a traitor to Edward, I am told the place will besacked to its walls. In such an extremity, to you, noble Wallace, asto the worthiest Scot I know, I apply to take charge of this box. Within the remote cliffs of Ellerslie it must be safe; and when JamesDouglas arrives from Paris, to him you will resign it. Meanwhile, as Icannot resist the plunderers, after delivering the keys of the stateapartments to Heselrigge to-morrow, I shall submit to necessity, andbeg his permission to retire to my lodge on Ben Venu. "

Wallace made no difficulty in granting Monteith's request; and, therebeing two iron rings on each side of his charge, the young chief tookoff his leathern belt, and putting it through them, swung the boxeasily under his left arm, while covering it with his plaid. 

Monteith's eyes now brightened-the paleness left his cheek-and with afirmer step, as if suddenly relieved of a heavy load, he called aservant to prepare Sir William Wallace's attendants. 

While Wallace shook him by the hand, Monteith, in a low and solemnvoice, exhorted him to caution respecting the box. "Remember, " addedhe, "the penalty that hangs over him who looks into it. "

"Be not afraid, " answered Wallace; "even the outside shall never beseen by other eyes than my own, unless the same circumstance which nowinduces you, mortal extremity, should force me to confide it to saferhands. "

"Beware of that!" exclaimed Monteith; "for who is there that wouldadhere to the prohibition as I have done-as you will do? and besides, as I have no doubt it contains holy relics, who knows what newcalamities a sacrilegious look might bring upon our already devotedcountry?"

"Relics or no relics, " replied Wallace, "it would be an equal sinagainst good faith to invade what is forbidden: but from the weight Iam rather inclined to suspect it contains gold; probably a treasure, with which the sordid Baliol thinks to compensate the hero who may freehis country from all the miseries a traitor king and a treacheroususurper have brought upon it. "

"A treasure!" repeated Monteith; "I never thought of that;-it is indeedheavy!-and, as we are responsible for the contents of the box, I wishwe were certain of what it contains; let us consider that!"

"It is no consideration of ours, " returned Wallace. "With what is inthe box we have no concern; all we have to do is, to preserve thecontents unviolated by even our own eyes; and to that, as you have nowtransferred the charge to me, I pledge myself-farewell. "

"But why this haste?" rejoined Monteith, "indeed, I wish I hadthought-stay only a little. "

"I thank you, " returned Wallace, proceeding to the courtyard; "but itis now dark, and I promised to be at home before the moon rises. Ifyou wish me to serve you further, I shall be happy to see you atEllerslie to-morrow. My Marion will have pleasure in entertaining, fordays or weeks, the friend of her husband. "

While Wallace spoke, he advanced to his horse, to which he was lightedby the servants of the castle. A few English soldiers lingered aboutin idle curiosity. As he put his foot in the stirrup, he held thesword in his hand, which he had unbuckled from his side to leave spacefor his charge. Monteith, whose dread of detection was ever awake, whispered: "Your loosened weapon may excite suspicion!" Fear incurredwhat it sought to avoid. He hastily pulled aside Wallace's plaid tothrow it over the glittering hilt of the sword, and thus exposed theiron box. The light of the torches striking upon the polished rivets, displayed it to all lookers on, but no remark was made. Wallace, notobserving what was done, again shook hands with Monteith, and callinghis servants about him, galloped away. A murmur was heard, as if ofsome intention to follow him; but deeming it prudent to leave the openand direct road, because of the English marauders who swarmed there, hewas presently lost amid the thick shades of Clydesdale. 

Chapter II. 

Lanark. 

The darkness was almost impenetrable. Musing on what had passed withMonteith, and on the likelihood of any hero appearing, who, by freeinghis country, could ever claim the privilege of investigating themystery which was now his care. Wallace rode on till, crossing thebridge of Lanark, he saw the rising moon silver the tops of the distanthills; and then his meditations embraced a gentler subject. This wasthe time he had promised Marion he should be returned, and he had yetfive long miles to go, before he could reach the glen of Ellerslie; hethought of her being alone-of watching, with an anxious heart, theminutes of his delay. Scotland and its wrongs he now forgot, in theidea of her whose happiness was dearer to him than life. He could notachieve the deliverance of the one, but it was his bliss to preservethe peace of the other; and putting spurs to his horse, under the nowbright beams of the moon he hastened through the town. 

Abruptly turning an angle leading to the Mouse River, a cry of murderarrested his ear. He checked his horse and listened. The clashing ofarms told him the sound had issued from an alley to the left. Healighted in an instant, and drawing his sword, threw away the scabbard(prophetic omen!), then, leaving his horse with one of his servantshastened, with the other three, to the spot whence the noise proceeded. 

On arriving he discovered two men in tartans, with their backs to theopposite wall, furiously assaulted by a throng of Edward's soldiers. At this sight, the Scots who accompanied Wallace were so enraged that, blowing their bugles to encourage the assailed, they joined hand tohand with their gallant leader, and attacking the banditti, each mancut his opponent to the ground. 

Such unexpected assistance reanimated the drooping strength of one ofthe two, with whom the cry had issued. He sprung from the wall withthe vigor of a tiger, but at the moment received a wound in his back, which would have thrown him at the feet of his enemies, had not Wallacecaught him in his left arm, and with his right, cleared the way, whilehe cried to his men who were fighting near him-"To the Glen!" As hespoke, he threw the now insensible stranger into their arms. The otherman, whose voice had first attracted Wallace, at the instant sunk, covered with blood, on the pavement. 

Two of the servants, obeying their master, carried their senselessburden toward the horses; but the third, being hemmed in by the furioussoldiers, could not move. Wallace made a passage to his rescue, andeffected it; but one base wretch, while the now wounded Scot wasretreating, made a stroke which would have severed his head from hisbody, had not the trusty claymore of Wallace struck down the pendingweapon of the coward, and received his rushing body upon its point. Hefell with bitter imprecations, calling aloud for vengeance. 

A dreadful cry was now raised by the whole band of assassins:"Murder!-treason!-Arthur Heselrigge is slain!" The uproar becamegeneral. The windows of the adjoining houses were thrown open; peoplearmed and unarmed issued from their doors and pressed forward toinquire the cause of the alarm. Wallace was nearly overpowered; ahundred swords flashed in the torchlight; but at the moment he expectedthey would be sheathed in his heart, the earth gave way under his feet, and he sunk into utter darkness. 

He fell upon a quantity of gathered broom; and concluding that theweight of the thronging multitude had burst his way through the arch ofa cellar, he sprung to his feet; and though he heard the curses ofseveral wretches, who had fallen with him and fared worse, he made butone step to a half-opened door, pointed out to him by a gleam from aninner passage. The men uttered a shout as they saw him darken thelight which glimmered through it; but they were incapable of pursuit;and Wallace, aware of his danger, darting across the adjoiningapartment, burst open a window, and leaped out to the foot of theLanark hills. 

The oaths of the soldiers, enraged at his escape, echoed in his ears, till distance sunk them into hoarse murmurs. He pursued his way overthe craigs; through the valley, and across the river, to the cliffswhich embattle the garden of Ellerslie. Springing on the projectingpoint of the nearest, he leaped into a thicket of honeysuckles. Thiswas the favorite bower of his Marion! The soft perfume, as it salutedhis senses, seemed to breathe peace and safety; and as he emerged fromits fragrant embrace, he walked with a calmer step toward the house. He approached a door which led into the garden. It was open. Hebeheld his beloved leaning over a couch, on which was laid the personhe had rescued. Halbert was dressing his wounds. 

Wallace paused for a moment, to contemplate his lovely wife in thismore lovely act of charity. Her beautiful hands held a cup to the lipsof the stranger; while her long hair, escaped from its band, fell injetty ringlets, and mingled with his silver locks. 

"Marion!" exclaimed the overflowing soul of her husband. She looked upat the well-known sound, and with a cry of joy, rushing forward, threwherself into his arms; her tears flowed, she sobbed-she clung to hisbreast. It was the first time Wallace had been from her; she hadfeared it would have been the last. The hour-the conflict-the bleedingstranger! But now he was returned-he was safe!

"Art thou indeed here!" exclaimed she. Blood fell from his foreheadupon her face and bosom: "O, my Wallace!" cried she, in agony. 

"Fear not, my love! all is well, since our wounded countryman is safe. "

"But you, bleed!" returned she. No tears now impeded her voice. Terror had checked their joyful currents; and she felt as if sheexpected his life-blood to issue from the wound on which she gazed. 

"I hope my preserver is not hurt?" inquired the stranger. 

"Oh, no!" replied Wallace, putting back the hair from his forehead; "amere trifle!" That the action had discovered the gash to be wider thanhe thought, he saw in the countenance of his wife! She turned deadlypale. "Marion, " said he, "to convince you how causeless your fearsare, you shall cure me yourself; and with no other surgery than yourgirdle!"

When Lady Wallace heard his gay tone, and saw the unforced smiles onhis lips, she took courage; and, remembering the deep wounds on thestranger, whom she had just assisted to dress, without any alarm forhis life, she began to hope that she need not now fear for the objectdearest to her in existence. Rising from her husband's arms, with alanguid smile she unbound the linen fillet from her waist; and Halberthaving poured some balsam into the wound, she prepared to apply thebandage; but when she lifted her husband's hair from his temple-thathair which had so often been the object of her admiration, as it hungin shining masses over his arching brows!-when the clotted blood mether fingers, a mist seemed to pass over her sight; she paused for amoment; but rallying her strength, as the cheerful sound of his voiceconversing with his guest assured her fear was needless, she tied thefillet; and, stealing a soft kiss on his cheek when she had finished, she seated herself, yet trembling, by his side. 

"Gallant Wallace!" continued the stranger-agitation had prevented herhearing what had preceded this-"it is Donald Earl of Mar, who owes hislife to you. "

"Then blessed be my arm, " exclaimed Wallace, "that has preserved a lifeso precious to my country!"

"May it indeed be blessed!" cried Lord Mar; "for this night it has madethe Southrons feel there is yet one man in Scotland who does not fearto resist oppression, and to punish treachery. "

"What treachery?" inquired Lady Wallace, her alarmed spirit stillhovering about her soul's far dearer part; "is any meant to my husband?"

"None to Sir William Wallace, more than to any other brave Scot, "replied the earl: "but we all see the oppression of our country; we allknow the treachery by which it was subjugated; and this night, in myown person, I have felt the effects of both. The English at Lanarkdispatched a body of men to Bothwell Castle (where my family now are), on a plea, that as its lord is yet absent, they presume he is adverseto Edward, and therefore they must search his dwelling for documents tosettle the point. Considering myself the representative of mybrother-in-law, Lord Bothwell, and suspecting that this might be only aprivate marauding party, I refused to admit the soldiers; and saw themdepart, swearing to return next day with a stronger force, and stormthe castle. To be ascertained of their commission, and to appealagainst such unprovoked tyranny, should it be true, I followed thedetachment to Lanark. 

"I saw Heselrigge the governor. He avowed the transaction; but awed bythe power which he thinks I possess in the country, he consented tospare Bothwell while I and my family remain in it. It being nearlydark, I took my leave, and was proceeding toward my servants in thecourtyard when a young man accosted me. I recognized him to be theofficer who had commanded the party I had driven from the castle. Heselrigge having told me that he was his nephew, I made no hesitationto go back with him, when he informed me that his uncle had forgottensomething of importance, and begged me to return. I followed hissteps; but instead of conducting me to the room in which I hadconversed with Heselrigge, he led me along a dark passage into a smallapartment, where telling me his uncle would attend me, he suddenlyretreated out of the door, and before I could recollect myself I heardhim bolt it after him. 

"I now saw myself a prisoner; and alarmed at what might be intended tomy defenseless family, I made every essay to force the door, but it wasin vain. Driven to despair, I remained in a state of mind not to bedescribed, when the bolt was withdrawn, and two men entered, withmanacles in their hands. They attempted to seize me, telling me I wasthe prisoner of King Edward. I did not listen further, but woundingone with my dagger, felled the other to the ground; and darting pasthim, made my way through what passages I cannot tell, till I foundmyself in a street leading from behind the governor's house. I ranagainst some one as I rushed from the portal; it was my servant Neil. I hastily told him to draw his sword and follow me. We then hurriedforward; he telling me he had stepped out to observe the night, whilethe rest of my men were awaiting me in the house, wondering at my delay. 

"Rejoiced at my escape, and fearing the worst of consequences from thetreachery of Heselrigge, I was hastening onward, determined to pursuemy way on foot to the protection of my family, when, at the turning ofan angle which leads to the Bothwell road, we were suddenly surroundedby armed men. The moon shone full on their faces, and I discoveredthey were Southrons, and that young Heselrigge was at their head. 

"He aimed a blow at my head with his battle-ax, and in a voice oftriumph exclaimed to his soldiers, 'The plunder of Bothwell, my lads!Down with its lord! All but the lady Helen shall be yours!"

"In a moment every sword was directed toward me. They wounded me inseveral places; but the thought of my daughter gave supernatural vigorto my arm, and I defended myself till the cries of my servant broughtyou, my brave deliverer, to my rescue. But, while I am safe, perhapsmy treacherous pursuer has marched toward Bothwell, too sure to committhe horrid violence he meditates; there are none to guard my child buta few domestics, the unpracticed sword of my stripling nephew, and thefeeble arms of my wife. "

"Be easy on that head, " interrupted Wallace: "I believe the infamousleader of the banditti fell by my hand, for the soldiers made an outcrythat Arthur Heselrigge was killed; and then pressing on me to takerevenge, their weight broke a passage into a vault, through which Iescaped-"

"Save, save yourself, my master!" cried a man rushing in from thegarden. "You are pursued-"

While he spoke he felt insensible at Wallace's feet. It wasDugald-whom he had rescued from the blow of Heselrigge, and who, fromthe state of his wound had been thus long in reaching Ellerslie. 

Wallace had hardly time to give him to the care of Halbert, when thevoice of war assailed his ears. The tumult of men demanding admittanceand the terrible sound of spears rattling against the shields of theirowners, told the astonished group within that the house was beset byarmed foes. 

"Blood for blood!" cried a horrid voice, which penetrated the almostpalsied senses of Lady Marion. "Vengence on Wallace, for the murder ofHeselrigge!"

"Fly, fly!" cried she, looking wildly at her husband. 

"Whither?" answered he, supporting her in his arms. "Would this be amoment to leave you, and our wounded guest? I must meet them. "

"Not now!" cried Lord Mar. "Hear you not how numerous they are? Markthat shout! they thirst for blood. If you have love, pity, for yourwife, delay not a moment. Again-"

The uproar redoubled, and the room was instantly filled with shriekingwomen in their night-clothes, the attendants of Lady Wallace. Shealmost expiring, on her husband's breast. 

"O my lord!" cried the terrified creatures, wringing their hands, "whatwill become of us! The Southrons are at the gates, and we shall belost forever!"

"Fear not, " replied Wallace; "retire to your chambers. I am the personthey seek: none else will meet with injury. "

Appeased by this assurance, the women retreated to their apartments;and Wallace, turning to the earl, who continued to enforce thenecessity of his flight, repeated, that he would not consent to leavehis wife in such a tumult. 

"Leave me, " cried she, in an inarticulate voice, "or see me die. "

As she spoke, there was a violent crash, and a tremendous burst ofimprecations. Three of Wallace's men ran panting into the room. Twoof the assailants had climbed to the hall window; and had just beenthrown back upon the cliffs, where one was killed. "Conceal yourself, said the Scots to Wallace; "for in a few minutes more your men will notbe able to maintain the gates. "

"Yes, my dear lord, " cried Halbert, "there is a dry well at the end ofthe garden; at the bottom of that you will be safe. "

"By your love for me, Wallace-by all you owe to the tender affectionsof your grandfather, hearken to him!" cried Lady Marion, falling at hisfeet, and clasping his knees. "I kneel for my life in kneeling foryours! Pity the gray hairs of Sir Ronald, whom your untimely deathwould bring to the grave! Pity your unborn child! Fly, Wallace, flyif you would have me live!" She was pale and breathless. 

"Angel of my life, " exclaimed Wallace, straining her to his heart, "Iobey thee. But if the hand of one of the desperate robbers dares totouch thy hallowed person-"

"Think not so, my lord, " interrupted Halbert; "it is you they seek. Not finding you, they will be too eager in pursuit to molest your lady. "

"I shall be safe, " whispered Marion; "only fly-while you are here, their shouts kill me. "

"But thou shalt go with me, " returned he; "the well will contain usall. But first let our faithful Halbert and these honest fellows lowerLord Mar into the place of refuge. He being the cause of the affray, if discovered, would be immediately sacrificed. "

Lord Mar acquiesced; and while the contention was so loud without, asto threaten the tearing down of the walls, the earl was carried intothe garden. He was followed by Sir William Wallace, to whose arm hiswife yet fondly clung. At every cry of the enemy, at every shock theygave to his yet impregnable gates, she breathed the shorter, and wasclasped by the lord of her heart still more closely to his bosom. 

At the well-side they found the earl bound with rope that was to lowerhim to the bottom. By great care it was safely done; and the cordbeing brought up again, before it was tied round Wallace (for hisagonized wife insisted he should descend next), he recollected that theiron box at his side might hurt the wounded nobleman by striking him inhis descent; and, unbuckling it, he said it contained matters of greatvalue, and ordered it to be lowered first. 

Lord Mar, beneath, was releasing it from the rope, when a shout oftriumph pierced their ears. A party of the English, having come roundthe heights, had leaped the wall of the garden, and were within a fewyards of the well. For Wallace to descend now was impossible. "Thattree!" whispered Marion, pointing to an oak-tree near which they stood. As she spoke, she slid from his arms, and along with the venerableHalbert, who had seized her hand, disappeared amid the adjoiningthicket. The two servants fled also. 

Wallace, finding himself alone, the next instant, like one of hisnative eagles, was looking down from the towering top of the wood uponhis enemies. They passed beneath him, denouncing vengeance upon theassassin of Arthur Heselrigge! One, who by the brightness of his armorseemed to be their leader, stopped under the tree, and complained hehad so sprained his ankle in leaping the wall, he must wait a fewminutes to recover himself. Several soldiers drew toward him; but heordered them to pursue their duty, search the house, and bring Wallace, dead or alive, before him. 

They obeyed; but others, who had gained admittance to the tower throughthe now forced gates, soon ran to him with information that themurderer could nowhere be found. 

"But here is a gay ladie, " cried one; "perhaps she can tell of hishiding-place. " And at moment Marion, with Halbert, appeared amongst aband of men. The lighted torches which the soldiers held, shone fullon her face. Though pale as monumental marble, the exquisite beauty ofher features, and the calm dignity which commanded from her eyes, awedthe officer into respect and admiration. 

"Soldiers, stand back!" cried he, advancing to Lady Wallace. "Fearnot, madam. " As the words passed his lips, a flight of arrows flewinto the bosom of the tree. A piercing shriek from Marion was her onlyanswer. "Hah! my lady's falcon!" cried Halbert alarmed, doubly, forthe fate of his master. A sudden agitation of the branches havingexcited an indefinite suspicion in a body of archers who stood near, with one impulse they had discharged their arrows to the spot. Halbert's ready excuse, both for the disturbance in the tree and hislady's shriek, was prompted and warranted true by the appearance of alarge bird, which the rushing of the arrows had frighted from her nest;she rose suddenly from amongst the branches, and soared away, far tothe east, with loud screams. 

All being again still, Marion hoped that her husband had escaped anyserious injury from the arrows; and turning with recovered composure tothe officer, heard him, with a glow of comfort, reprimand his men fordaring to draw their bows without his orders. Then addressing her, "Ibeg your pardon, madam, " said he, "both for the alarm these hot-headedmen have occasioned you, and for the violence they have committed inforcing one of your sex and beauty before me. Had I expected to havefound a lady here, I should have issued orders to have prevented thisoutrage; but I am sent hither in quest of Sir William Wallace, who, bya mortal attack made on the person of the Governor of Lanark's nephew, has forfeited his life. The scabbard of his sword, found beside themurdered Heselrigge, is an undeniable proof of his guilt. Direct us tofind him, and not only your release, but the favor of the Englishmonarch will await your allegiance. "

"I am Sir William Wallace's wife, " returned the gentle Marion, in afirm tone; "and by what authority you seek him thus, and presume tocall him guilty, I cannot understand. "

"By the authority of the laws, madam, which he has violated. "

"What laws?" rejoined she; "Sir William Wallace acknowledges none butthose of God and his country. Neither of these has he transgressed. "

The officer replied, "This night he assassinated Arthur Heselrigge inthe streets of Lanark; and that condemns him, by the last declarationof King Edward: Whatever Scot maltreats any one of the Englishsoldiers, or civil officers garrisoned in the towns of Scotland, shallthereby forfeit his life, as the penalty of his crime. "

"A tyrant's law, sir, to which no freeborn Scot will submit! But evenwere it allowed by my countrymen, in this case it can have no hold onmy husband. That he is a Scot, he glories: and not that he maltreatedany Englishman in the streets of Lanark, do I glory; but because, whenhe saw two defenseless men borne down by a band of armed soldiers, heexposed his unshielded breast in their defense; one of the two died, covered with wounds. That the governor's nephew also fell, was a justretribution for his heading so unequal a contest, and no crime in SirWilliam Wallace; for he slew him to preserve a feeble old man, who hada hundred English swords leveled at his life. "

The officer paused for a moment, and then, ordering his soldiers tofall further back, when they were at a sufficient distance, he offeredto take Lady Wallace's hand. She withstood his motion with a reservedair, and said, "Speak, sir, what you would say, or allow me to retire. "

"I mean not to offend you, noble lady, " continued he; "had I a wifelovely as yourself, and I in like circumstances, I hope in the likemanner would defend my life and honor. I knew not the particulars ofthe affair in which Arthur Heselrigge fell, till I heard it from yourlips. I can easily credit them, for I know his unmanly character. Wallace is a Scot, and acted in Scotland as Gilbert Hambledon wouldhave done in England, were it possible for any vile foreigner to thereput his foot upon the neck of a countryman of mine. Wherever you haveconcealed your husband, let it be a distant asylum. At present notract within the jurisdiction of Lanark will be left unsearched by thegovernor's indefatigable revenge. "

Lady Wallace, overcome with gratitude at this generous speech of theEnglish officer, uttered some inarticulate words, expressive more insound than clearness, of her grateful feelings. Hambledon continued, "I will use my influence with Heselrigge, to prevent the interior ofyour house from being disturbed again; but it being in the course ofmilitary operations, I cannot free you from the disagreeable ceremonyof a guard being placed to-morrow morning round the domains. This Iknow will be done to intercept Sir William Wallace should he attempt toreturn. "

"Oh! That he were indeed far distant!" thought the anxious Marion. 

The officer then added, "However, you shall be relieved of mydetachment directly. " And as he spoke, he waved his sword to them whohad seized the harper. They advanced, still holding their prisoner. He ordered them to commit the man to him, and to sound. The trumpeterobeyed; and in a few seconds the whole detachment were assembled beforetheir commander. 

"Soldiers!" cried he, "Sir William Wallace has escaped our hands. Mount your horses, that we may return to Lanark, and search the otherside of the town. Lead forth, and I will follow. "

The troops obeyed, and falling back through the open gates, left SirGilbert Hambledon alone with Lady Wallace and the wondering Halbert. The brave young man took the now no longer withdrawn hand of thegrateful Marion, who had stood trembling while so many of her husband'smortal enemies were assembled under the place of his concealment. 

"Noble Englishman, " said she, as the last body of soldiers passed fromher sight, "I cannot enough thank you for this generous conduct; butshould you or yours be ever in the like extremity with my belovedWallace (and in these tyrannous times, what brave spirit can answer forits continued safety?) may the ear which has heard you this night, atthat hour repay my gratitude!"

"Sweet lady, " answered Hambledon, "I thank you for your prayer. God isindeed the benefactor of a true soldier; and though I serve my king, and obey my commanders, yet it is only to the Lord of battles that Ilook for a sure reward. And whether he pay me here with victories andhonors, or take my soul through a rent in my breast, to receive mylaurel in paradise, it is all one to Gilbert Hambledon. But the nightis cold: I must see you safe within your own doors, and then, lady, farewell!"

Lady Wallace yielded to the impulse of his hand, and with redoubledhaste, as she heard another rustling in the tree above her head. Hambledon did not notice it; but desiring Halbert to follow, in a fewminutes disappeared with the agitated Marion into the house. 

Wallace, whose spirit could ill brook the sight of his domains filledwith hostile troops, and the wife of his bosom brought a prisonerbefore their commander, would instantly have braved all dangers, andhave leaped down amongst them; but at the instant he placed his foot ona lower bough to make a spring, the courteous address of Hambledon tohis wife had made him hesitate. He listened to the replies of hisMarion with exultation; and when the Englishman ordered his men towithdraw, and delivered himself so generously respecting the safety ofthe man he came to seize, Wallace could hardly prevent a braveconfidence in such virtue from compelling him to come from hisconcealment, and thank his noble enemy on the spot. But inconsideration that such disclosure would put the military duty and thegenerous nature of the officer at variance, he desisted, with such anagitation of spirits that the boughs had again shaken under him, andreawakened the alarm of his trembling wife. 

"Omnipotent virtue!" exclaimed Wallace to himself; "if it were possiblethat thy generous spirit could animate the breast of an invadingconqueror, how soon would the vanquished cease to forget their formerfreedom, and learn to love their vassalage! This man's nobleness, howsoon has it quenched the flame of vengeance with which, when I ascendedthis tree, I prayed for the extirpation of every follower of Edward!"

"Sir William! my master!" cried a well-known voice, in a suppressedtone, as if still fearful of being overheard. It was Halbert's. "Speak, my dear lord; are you safe?"

"In heart and body!" returned Wallace, sliding from the tree, andleaping on the ground. "One only of the arrows touched me; and thatmerely striking my bugle, fell back amongst the leaves. I must nowhasten to the dearest, the noblest of women!"

Halbert begged him to stay till they should hear the retreat from theEnglish trumpets. "Till their troops are out of sight, " added he, "Icannot believe you safe. "

"Hark!" cried Wallace, "the horses are now descending the craig. Thatmust satisfy you, honest Halbert. " With these words he flew across thegrass, and entering the house, met the returning Marion, who had justbade farewell to Hambledon. She rushed into his arms, and with theexcess of a disturbed and uncertain joy, fainted on his neck. Hergentle spirit had been too powerfully excited by the preceding scenes. Unaccustomed to tumult of any king, and nursed in the bosom of fondnesstill now, no blast had blown on her tender form, no harshness had everruffled the blissful serenity of her mind. What then was the shock ofthis evening's violence! Her husband pursued as a murderer; herselfexposed to the midnight air, and dragged by the hands of mercilesssoldiers to betray the man she loved! All these scenes were new toher; and though a kind of preternatural strength had supported herover, when she fell once more into her husband's extended arms, sheseemed there to have found again her shelter, and the pillow whereonher harassed soul might repose. 

"My life! My best treasure! Preserver of thy Wallace! Look on him!"exclaimed he; "bless him with a smile from those dear eyes. "

His voice, his caresses, soon restored her to sensibility andrecollection. She wept on his breast, and with love's own eloquence, thanked Heaven that he had escaped the search and the arrows of hisenemies. 

"But my dear lady, " interrupted Halbert, "remember my master must notstay here. You know the English commander said he must fly far away. Nay, spies may even now be lurking to betray him. "

"You are right, " cried she. "My Wallace, you must depart. Should theguard arrive soon, your flight may be prevented. You must go now-but, oh! whither?"

"Not far distant, my love. In going from thee, I leave behind all thatmakes my life precious to me; how then can I go far away? No! thereare recesses among the Cartlane Craigs, I discovered while hunting, andwhich I believe have been visited by no mortal foot but my own. ThereI will be, my Marion, before sunrise; and before it sets, thither youmust send Halbert, to tell me how you fare. Three notes from thine ownsweet strains of Thusa ha measg na reultan mor, ** blown by his pipe, shall be a sign to me that he is there; and I will come forth to heartidings of thee. "

**Thusa ha measg na reultan mor, etc. , are the beginning words of anold Gaelic ditty, the English of which runs thus: "Thou who art amidthe stars, move to thy bed with music, " etc. -(1809. )

"Ah, my Wallace, let me go with thee!"

"What, dearest!" returned he, "to live amidst rocks and streams! toexpose thy tender self, and thine unborn infant, to all the accidentsof such a lodging!"

"But are not you going to so rough, so dangerous a lodging?" asked she. "O! would not rocks and streams be Heaven's paradise to me, whenblessed by the presence of my husband? Ah! let me go!"

"Impossible, my lady, " cried Halbert, afraid that the melting heart ofhis master would consent: you are here; and your flight would awakensuspicion in the English, that he had not gone far. Your ease andsafety are dearer to him than his own life; and most likely by his careto preserve them, he would be traced, and so fall a ready sacrifice tothe enemy. "

"It is true, my Marion; I could not preserve you in the places to whichI go. "

"But the hardships you will endure!" cried she; "to sleep on the coldstones, with no covering but the sky, or the dripping vault of somedreary cave! I have not courage to abandon you alone to such cruelrigors. "

"Cease, my beloved!" interrupted he, "cease these groundless alarms. Neither rocks nor storms have any threats to me. It is only tenderwoman's cares that make man's body delicate. Before I was thine, myMarion, I have lain whole nights upon the mountain's brow, counting thewintery stars, as I impatiently awaited the hunter's horn that was torecall me to the chase in Glenfinlass. Alike to Wallace is the couchof down or the bed of heather; so, best-beloved of my heart, grieve notat hardships which were once my sport, and will now be my safety. "

"Then farewell! May good angels guard thee!" Her voice failed; sheput his hand to her lips. 

"Courage, my Marion, " said he; "remember that Wallace lives but inthee. Revive, be happy for my sake; and God, who putteth down theoppressor, will restore me to thine arms. " She spoke not, but risingfrom his breast, clasped her hands together, and looked up with anexpression of fervent prayer; then smiling through a shower of tears, she waved her hand to him to depart, and instantly disappeared into herown chamber. 

Wallace gazed at the closed door, with his soul in his eyes. To leavehis Marion thus, to quit her who was the best part of his being, whoseemed the very spring of the life now throbbing in his heart, was acontention with his fond, fond love, almost too powerful for hisresolution. Here indeed his brave spirit gave way; and he would havefollowed her, and perhaps have determined to await his face at herside, had not Halbert, reading his mind in his countenance, taken himby the arm, and drawn him toward the portal. 

Wallace soon recovered his better reason, and obeying the friendlyimpulse of his servant, accompanied him through the garden, to thequarter which pointed toward the heights that led to the remotestrecesses of the Clyde. In their way they approached the well whereLord Mar lay. Finding that the earl had not been inquired for, Wallacedeemed his stay to be without peril; and intending to inform him of thenecessity which still impelled his own flight, he called to him, but novoice answered. He looked down, and seeing him extended on the bottomwithout motion, "I fear, " said he, "the earl is dead. As soon as I amgone, and you can collect the dispersed servants, send one into thewell to bring him forth; and if he be indeed no more, deposit his bodyin my oratory, till you can receive his widow's commands respecting hisremains. The iron box now in the well is of inestimable value; take itto Lady Wallace and tell her she must guard it, as she has done mylife; but not to look into it, at the peril of what is yet dearer toher-my honor. "

Halbert promised to adhere to his master's orders; and Wallace, girdingon his sword, and taking his hunting-spear (with which the care of hisvenerable domestic had provided him), he pressed the faithful hand thatpresented it, and again enjoining him to be watchful of thetranquillity of his lady, and to send him tidings of her in theevening, to the cave near the Corie Lynn, he climbed the wall, and wasout of sight in an instant. 

Chapter III. 

Ellerslie. 

Halbert returned to the house; and entering the room softly, into whichMarion had withdrawn, beheld her on her knees before a crucifix; shewas praying for the safety of her husband. 

"May he, O gracious Lord!" cried she, "soon return to his home. But ifI am to see him here no more, oh, may it please thee to grant me tomeet him within thy arms in heaven!"

"Hear her, blessed Son of Mary!" ejaculated the old man. She lookedround, and rising from her knees, demanded of him, in a kind butanxious voice, whether he had left her lord in security. 

"In the way to it, my lady!" answered Halbert. He repeated all thatWallace had said at parting, and then tried to prevail on her to go torest. "Sleep cannot visit my eyes this night, my faithful creature, "replied she; "my spirit will follow Wallace in his mountain flight. Goyou to your chamber. After you have had repose, that will be timeenough to revisit the remains of the poor earl, and to bring them withthe box to the house. I will take a religious charge of both, for thesake of the dear intruster. "

Halbert persuaded his aldy to lie down on the bed, that her limbs atleast might rest after the fatigue of so harassing a night; and she, little suspecting that he meant to do otherwise than to sleep also, kindly wished him repose and retired. 

Her maids, during the late terror, had dispersed, and were nowhere tobe found; and the men, too, after their stout resistance at the gates, had all disappeared; some fled others were sent away prisoners toLanark, while the good Hambledon was conversing with their lady. Halbert, therefore, resigned himself to await with patience the risingof the sun, when he hoped some of the scared domestics would return; ifnot, he determined to go to the cotters who lived in the depths of theglen, and bring some of them to supply the place of the fugitives; anda few, with stouter hearts, to guard his lady. 

Thus musing, he sat on a stone bench in the hall, watching anxiouslythe appearance of that orb, whose setting beams he hoped would lighthim back with tidings of William Wallace to comfort the lonely heart ofhis Marion. All seemed at peace. Nothing was hear but the sighing ofthe trees as they waved before the western window, which opened towardthe Lanark hills. The morning was yet gray, and the fresh air blowingin rather chilly, Halbert rose to close the wooden shutter; at thatmoment, his eyes were arrested by a party of armed men in quick marchdown the opposite declivity. In a few minutes more their heavy stepssounded in his ears, and he saw the platform before the house filledwith English. Alarmed at the sight, he was retreating across theapartment, toward his lady's room, when the great hall door was burstopen by a band of soldiers, who rushed forward and seized him. 

"Tell me, dotard!" cried their leader, a man of low stature, with graylocks, but a fierce countenance, "where is the murderer? Where is SirWilliam Wallace? Speak, or the torture shall force you. "

Halbert shuddered, but it was for his defenseless lady, not forhimself. "My master, " said he, "is far from this. "

"Where?"

"I know not. "

"Thou shalt be made to know, thou hoary-headed villian!" cried the sameviolent interrogator. "Where is the assassin's wife? I will confrontye. Seek her out. "

At that word the soldiers parted right and left, and in a momentafterward three of them appeared, with shouts, bringing in thetrembling Marion. 

"Alas! my lady!" cried Halbert, struggling to approach her, as withterrified apprehension she looked around her; but they held her fast, and he saw her led up to the merciless wretch who had given the ordersto have her summoned. 

"Woman!" cried he, "I am the Governor of Lanark. You now stand beforethe representative of the great King Edward, and on your allegiance tohim, and on the peril of your life, I command you to answer me threequestions. Where is Sir William Wallace, the murderer of my nephew?Who is that old Scot, for whom my nephew was slain? He and his wholefamily shall meet my vengeance! And tell me where is that box oftreasure which your husband stole from Douglas Castle? Answer me thesequestions on your life. "

Lady Wallace remained silent. 

"Speak, woman, " demanded the governor. "If fear cannot move you, knowthat I can reward as well as avenge. I will endow you richly, if youdeclare the truth. If you persist to refuse, you die. "

"Then I die, " replied she, scarcely opening her half-closed eyes, asshe leaned, fainting and motionless, against the soldier who held her. 

"What?" cried the governor, stifling his rage, in hopes to gain bypersuasion on a spirit he found threats could not intimidate; "can sogentle a lady reject the favor of England, large grants in thiscountry, and perhaps a fine English knight for a husband, when youmight have all for the trifling service of giving up a traitor to hisliege lord, and confessing where his robberies lie concealed? Speak, fair dame; give me this information, and the lands of the woundedchieftain whom Wallace brought here, with the hand of the handsome SirGilbert Hambledon, shall be your reward. Rich, and a beauty inEdward's court! Lady, can you now refuse to purchase all, by declaringthe hiding place of the traitor Wallace?"

"It is easier to die!"

"Fool!" cried Heselrigge, driven from his assumed temper by her steadydenial. "What? is it easier for these dainty limbs to be hacked topieces by my soldiers' axes? Is it easier for that fair bosom to betrodden underfoot by my horse's hoofs, and for that beauteous head ofthine to decorate my lance? Is all this easier than to tell me whereto find a murderer and his gold?"

Lady Wallace shuddered; she stretched her hands to heaven. 

"Speak once for all!" cried the enraged governor, drawing his sword; "Iam no waxen-hearted Hambledon, to be cajoled by your beauty. Declarewhere Wallace is concealed, or dread my vengeance. "

The horrid steel gleamed across the eyes of the unhappy Marion; unableto sustain herself, she sunk to the ground. 

"Kneel not to me for mercy!" cried the fierce wretch; "I grant none, unless you confess your husband's hiding-place. "

A momentary strength darted from the heart of Lady Wallace to hervoice, "I kneel to Heaven alone, and may it ever preserve my Wallacefrom the fangs of Edward and his tyrants!"

"Blasphemous wretch!" cried the infuriated Heselrigge; and in thatmoment he plunged his sword into her defenseless breast. Halbert, whohad all this time been held back by the soldiers, could not believethat the fierce governor would perpetrate the horrid deed hethreatened; but seeing it done, with a giant's strength and a terriblecry he burst from the hands that held him, and had thrown himself onthe bleeding Marion, before her murderer could strike his second blow. However, it fell, and pierced through the neck of the faithful servantbefore it reached her heart. She opened her dying eyes, and seeing whoit was that would have shielded her life, just articulated, "Halbert!my Wallace-to God-" and with that last unfinished sentence her puresoul took its flight to regions of eternal piece. 

The good old man's heart almost burst when he felt that before-heavingbosom now motionless; and groaning with grief, and fainting with lossof blood, he lay senseless on her body. 

A terrible stillness was now in the hall. Not a man spoke; all stoodlooking on each other, with a stern horror marking each palecountenance. Heselrigge, dropping his blood-stained sword on theground, perceived by the behavior of his men that he had gone too far, and fearful of arousing the indignation of awakened humanity, to someact against himself, he addressed the soldiers in an unusual accent ofcondescension: "My friends, " said he, "we will now return to Lanark;to-morrow you may come back, for I reward your services of this nightwith the plunder of Ellerslie. "

"May a curse light on him who carries a stick from its grounds!"exclaimed a veteran, from the further end of the hall. "Amen!"murmured all the soldiers, with one consent; and falling back, theydisappeared, one by one, out of the great door, leaving Heselriggealone with the soldier, who stood leaning on his sword, looking on themurdered lady. 

"Grimsby, why stand you there?" demanded Heselrigge: "follow me. "

"Never, " returned the soldier. 

"What!" exclaimed the governor, momentarily forgetting his panic, "dareyou speak thus to your commander? March on before me this instant, orexpect to be treated as a rebel. "

"I march at your command no more, " replied the veteran, eying himresolutely: "the moment you perpetrated this bloody deed, you becameunworthy the name of man; and I should disgrace my own manhood, were Iever again to obey the word of such a monster!"

"Villian!" cried the enraged Heselrigge, "you shall die for this!"

"That may be, " answered Grimsby, "by the hands of some tyrant likeyourself; but no brave man, not the royal Edward, would do otherwisethan acquit his soldier for refusing obedience to the murderer of aninnocent woman. It was not so he treated the wives and daughters ofthe slaughtered Saracens when I followed his banners over the fields ofPalestine!"

"Thou canting miscreant!" cried Heselrigge, springing on him suddenly, and aiming his dagger at his breast. But the soldier arrested theweapon, and at the same instant closing upon the assassin, with a turnof his foot threw him to the ground. Heselrigge, as he lay prostrate, seeing his dagger in his adversary's hand, with the most dastardlypromises implored for life. 

"Monster!" cried the soldier, "I wold not pollute my honest hands withsuch unnatural blood. Neither, though thy hand has been lifted againstmy life, would I willingly take thine. It is not rebellion against mycommander that actuates me, but hatred of the vilest of murderers. Igo far from you, or your power; but if you forswear your voluntaryoath, and attempt to seek me out for vengeance, remember it is asoldier of the cross you pursue, and a dire retribution shall bedemanded by Heaven, at a moment you cannot avoid, and with a horrorcommensurate with your crimes. "

There was a solemnity and determination in the voice and manner of thesoldier that paralyzed the intimidated soul of the governor; hetrembled violently, and repeating the oath of leaving Grimsbyunmolested, at last obtained his permission to return to Lanark. Themen, in obedience to the conscience-stricken orders of their commander, had mounted their horses and were now far out of sight. Heselrigge'scharger was still in the courtyard; he was hurrying toward it, but thesoldier, with a prudent suspicion, called out, "Stop, sir! you mustwalk to Lanark. The cruel are generally false; I cannot trust yourword, should you have the power to break it. Leave this horsehere-to-morrow you may send for it, I shall then be far away. "

Heselrigge saw that remonstrance would be unavailing; and shaking withimpotent rage, he turned into the path which, after five weary miles, would lead him once more to his citadel. 

For the moment the soldier's manly spirit had dared to deliver itsabhorrence of Lady Wallace's murder, he was aware that his life wouldno longer be safe within reach of the machinations of Heselrigge; anddetermined, alike by detestation of him and regard for his ownpreservation, resolved to take shelter in the mountains, till he couldhave an opportunity of going beyond sea to join his king's troops inthe Guienne wars. 

Full of these thoughts he returned into the hall. As he approached thebleeding form on the floor, he perceived it to move; hoping thatperhaps the unhappy lady might not be dead, he drew near; but, alas! ashe bent to examine, he touched her hand and found it quite cold. Theblood which had streamed from the now exhausted heart, lay congealedupon her arms and bosom. Grimsby shuddered. Again he saw her move;but it was not with her own life; the recovering senses of her faithfulservant, as his arms clung around the body, had disturbed the remainsof her who would wake no more. 

On seeing that existence yet struggled in one of these blamelessvictims, Grimsby did his utmost to revive the old man. He raised himfrom the ground, and poured some strong liquor he had in a flask into amouth. Halbert breathed freer; and his kind surgeon, with thevenerable harper's own plaid, bound up the wound in his neck. Halbertopened his eyes. When he fixed them on the rough features and Englishhelmet of the soldier, he closed them again with a deep groan. 

"My honest Scot, " said Grimsby, "trust in me. I am a man likeyourself; and though a Southron, am no enemy to age and helplessness. "

The harper took courage at these words; he again looked at the soldier;but suddenly recollecting what had passed, he turned his eyes towardthe body of his mistress, on which the beams of the now rising sun wereshining. He started up, and staggering toward her, would have fallen, had not Grimsby supported him. "O what a sight is this!" cried he, wringing his hands. "My lady! my lovely lady! see how low she lies whowas once the delight of all eyes, the comforter of all hearts. " Theold man's sobs suffocated him. The veteran turned away his face, atear dropped upon his hand. "Accursed Heselrigge, " ejaculated he, "thyfate must come!"

"If there be a man's heart in all Scotland, it is not far distant!"cried Halbert. "My master lives, and will avenge this murder. Youweep, soldier; and you will not betray what has now escaped me. "

"I have fought in Palestine, " returned he, "and a soldier of the crossbetrays none who trust him. Saint Mary preserve your master andconduct you safely to him. We must both hasten hence. Heselrigge willsurely send in pursuit of me. He is too vile to forgive the truth Ihave spoken to him; and should I fall into his power, death is the bestI could expect at his hands. Let me assist you to put this poor lady'sremains into some decent place; and then, my honest Scot, we mustseparate. "

Halbert, at these words, threw himself upon the bosom of his mistress, and wept with loud lamentations over her. In vain he attempted toraise her in his feeble arms. "I have carried thee scores of times inthy blooming infancy, " cried he; "and now must I bear thee to thygrave? I had hoped that my eyes would have been closed by this dearhand. " As he spoke, he pressed her cold hand to his lips with suchconvulsive sobs that the soldier, fearing he would expire in the agonyof his sorrow, took him almost motionless from the dead body, andexhorted him to suppress such self-destroying grief for the sake of hismaster. Halbert gradually revived; and listening to him, cast awistful look on the lifeless Marion. 

"There sleeps the pride and hope of Ellerslie, the mother with herchild! O my master, my widowed master, " cried he, "what will comfortthee!"

Fearing the ill consequence of further delay, the soldier againinterrupted his lamentations with arguments for flight; and Halbertrecollecting the oratory in which Wallace had ordered the body of LordMar to be deposited, named it for that of his dear lady. Grimsby, immediately wrapping the beauteous corpse in the white garments whichhung about it, raised it in his arms, and was conducted by Halbert to alittle chapel in the heart of a neighboring cliff. 

The still weeping old man removed the altar; and Grimsby, laying theshrouded Marion upon its rocky platform, covered her with the pall, which he drew from the holy table, and laid the crucifix upon herbosom. Halbert, when his beloved mistress was thus hidden from hissight, threw himself on his knees beside her, and in the vehementlanguage of grief offered up a prayer for her departed soul. 

"Hear me, righteous Judge of heaven and earth!" cried he; "as thoudidst avenge the blood of innocence shed in Bethlehem, so let the grayhairs of Heselrigge be brought down in blood to the grave for themurder of this innocent lady!" Halbert kissed the cross, and risingfrom his knees, went weeping out of the chapel, followed by the soldier. 

Having closed the door, and carefully locked it, absorbed in meditationon what would be the agonized transports of his master, when he shouldtell him these grievous tidings, Halbert proceeded in silence, till heand his companion in passing the well were startled by a groan. 

"Here is some one in extremity!" cried the soldier. 

"Is it possible he lives!" exclaimed Halbert, bending down to the edgeof the well with the same inquiry. 

"Yes, " feebly answered the earl, "I still exist, but am very faint. Ifall be safe above, I pray remove me into the upward air!" Halbertreplied that it was indeed necessary he should ascend immediately; andlowering the rope, told him to tie the iron box to it and then himself. This done, with some difficulty, and the assistance of the wonderingsoldier (who now expected to see the husband of the unfortunate LadyWallace emerge to the knowledge of his loss), he at last effected theearl's release. For a few seconds the fainting nobleman supportedhimself on his countryman's shoulder, while the fresh morning breezegradually revived his exhausted frame. The soldier looked at his graylocks and furrowed brow, and marveled how such proofs of age couldbelong to the man whose resistless valor had discomfited the fiercedetermination of Arthus Heselrigge and his myrmidons. However, hisdoubts of the veteran before him being other than the brave Wallace, were soon satisfied by the earl himself, who asked for a draught of thewater which trickled down the opposite hill; and while Halbert went tobring it, Lord Mar raised his eyes to inquire for Sir William and LadyMarion. He started when he saw English armor on the man he would haveaccosted, and rising suddenly from the stone on which he sat, demanded, in a stern voice, "Who art thou?"

"An Englishman, " answered the soldier; "one who does not, like themonster Heselrigge, disgrace the name. I would assist you, nobleWallace, to fly this spot. After that, I shall seek refuge abroad; andthere, on the fields of Guienne, demonstrate my fidelity to my king. "

Mar looked at him steadily. "You mistake; I am not Sir WilliamWallace. "

At that moment Halbert came up with the water. The earl drank it, though now, from the impulse surprise had given to his blood, he didnot require its efficacy; and turning to the venerable bearer, he askedof him whether his master were safe. 

"I trust he is, " replied the old man; "but you, my lord, must hastenhence. A foul murder has been committed here, since you left it. "

"But where is Lady Wallace?" asked the earl; "if there be such dangerwe must not leave her to meet it. "

"She will never meet danger more!" cried the old man, clasping hishand; "she is in the bosom of the Virgin; and no second assassin'ssteel can reach her there. "

"What!" exclaimed the earl, hardly articulate with horror; "is LadyWallace murdered?" Halbert answered only by his tears. 

"Yes, " said the soldier; "and detestation of so unmanly an outrageprovoked me to desert his standard. But no time must now be lost inunavailing lamentation. Heselrigge will return; and if we also wouldnot be sacrificed to his rage, we must hence immediately. "

The earl, struck dumb at this recital, gave the soldier time to recountthe particulars. When he had finished, Lord Mar saw the necessity forinstant flight, and ordered horses to be brought from the stables. Though he had fainted in the well, the present shock gave such tensionto his nerves, that he found, in spite of his wound, he could now ridewithout difficulty. 

Halbert went as commanded, and returned with two horses. Havingamongst rocks and glens to go, he did not bring one for himself; andbegging the good soldier might attend the earl to Bothwell, he added, "He will guard you and this box, which Sir William Wallace holds as hislife. What it contains I know not: and none, he says, may dare tosearch into. But you will take care of it for his sake, till morepeaceful times allow him to reclaim his own!"

"Fatal box!" cried the soldier, regarding it with an abhorrent eye, "that was the leading cause which brought Heselrigge to Ellerslie. "

"How?" inquired the earl. Grimsby then briefly related, thatimmediately after the return to Lanark of the detachment sent toEllerslie, under the English garrison in Douglas, and told the governorthat Sir William Wallace had that evening taken a quantity of treasurefrom the castle. His report was, that the English soldiers who stoodnear the Scottish knight when he mounted at the castle gate, saw a longiron coffer under his arm, but not suspecting its having belonged toDouglas, they thought not of it, till they overheard Sir John Monteith, as he passed through one of the galleries, muttering something aboutgold and a box. To intercept the robber amongst his native glens, thesoldiers deemed impracticable, and therefore their captain cameimmediately to lay the information before the Governor of Lanark. Asthe scabbard found in the affray with young Arthur had betrayed thevictor to have been Sir William Wallace, this intimation of his havingbeen also the instrument of wrestling from the grasp of Heselriggeperhaps the most valuable spoil in Douglas exasperated him to the mostvindictive excess. Inflamed with the double furies of revenge andavarice, he ordered out a new troop, and placing himself at its head, took the way to Ellerslie. One of the servants, whom some ofHambledon's men had seized for the sake of information, on beingthreatened with the torture, confessed to Heselrigge, that not only SirWilliam Wallace was in the house when it was attacked, but that theperson whom he had rescued in the streets of Lanark, and who proved tobe a wealthy nobleman, was there also. This whetted the eagerness ofthe governor to reach Ellerslie; and expecting to get a rich booty, without the most distant idea of the horrors he was going toperpetrate, a large detachment of men followed him. 

"To extort money from you, my lord, " continued the soldier, "and toobtain that fatal coffer, were his main objects; but disappointed inhis darling passion of avarice, he forgot he was a man, and the bloodof innocence glutted his barbarous vengeance. "

"Hateful gold!" cried Lord Mar, spurning the box with his foot; "itcannot be for itself the noble Wallace so greatly prizes it; it must bea trust. "

"I believe it is, " returned Halbert, "for he enjoined my lady topreserve it for the sake of his honor. Take care of it, then, my lord, for the same sacred reason. "

The Englishman made no objection to accompany the earl; and by asuggestion of his own, Halbert brought him a Scottish bonnet and cloakfrom the house. While he put them on, the earl observed that theharper held a drawn and blood-stained sword in his hand, on which hesteadfastly gazed. "Whence came that forried weapon?" cried Lord Mar. 

"It is my lady's blood, " replied Halbert, still looking on it. "Ifound it where she lay, in the hall, and I will carry it to my master. Was not every drop of her blood dear to him? and here are many. " Asthe old man spoke he bent his head on the sword, and groaned heavily. 

"England shall hear more of this!" cried Mar, as he threw himselfacross the horse. "Give me that fatal box; I will buckle it to mysaddle-bow. Inadequate will be my utmost care of it, to repay the vastsorrow its preservation and mine have brought upon the head of mydeliverer. "

The Englishman in silence mounted his horse, and Halbert opened aback-gate that led to the hills which lay between Ellerslie andBothwell Castle. Lord Mar took a golden-trophied bugle from hisbreast: "Give this to your master, and tell him that by whatever handshe sends it, the sight of it shall always command the services ofDonald Mar. I go to Bothwell, in expectation that he will join methere. In making it his home he will render me happy, for myfriendship is now bound to him by bonds which only death can sever. "

Halbert took the horn, and promising faithfully to repeat the earl'smessage, prayed God to bless him and the honest soldier. A rockypromontory soon excluded them from his sight, and in a few minutes moreeven the sound of their horses' hoofs was lost on the soft herbage ofthe winding dell. 

"Now I am alone in this once happy spot. Not a voice, not a sound. Oh, Wallace!" cried he, throwing up his venerable arms, "thy house isleft unto thee desolate, and I am to be the fatal messenger. " With thelast words he struck into a deep ravine which led to the remotestsolitudes of the glen, and pursued his way in dreadful silence. Nohuman face of Scot or English cheered or scared him as he passed along. The tumult had so alarmed the poor cottagers, that with one accordthey fled to their kindred on the hills, amid those fastnesses ofnature, to await tidings from the valley, of when all should be still, and they might return in peace. Halbert looked to the right and to theleft; no smoke, curling its gray mist from behind the intersectingrocks, reminded him of the gladsome morning hour, or invited him totake a moment's rest from his grievous journey. All was lonely andcomfortless; and sighing bitterly over the wide devastation, heconcealed the fatal sword and the horn under his cloak, and with astaff which he broke from a withered tree, took his way down thewinding craigs. Many a pointed flint pierced his aged feet, whileexploring the almost trackless paths, which by their direction he hopedwould lead him at length to the deep caves of Corie Lynn. 

Chapter IV. 

Corie Lynn. 

After having traversed many a weary rood of, to him, before untroddenground, the venerable minstrel of the house of Wallace, exhausted byfatigue, sat down on the declivity of a steep craig. The burning beamsof the midday sun now beat upon the rocks, but the overshadowingfoliage afforded him shelter, and a few berries from the brambles, which knit themselves over the path he had yet to explore, with adraught of water from a friendly burn, offered themselves to revive hisenfeebled limbs. Insufficient as they appeared, he took them, blessingHeaven for sending even these, and strengthened by half an hour's rest, again he grasped his staff to pursue his way. 

After breaking a passage, through the entangled shrubs that grew acrossthe only possible footing in this solitary wilderness, he went alongthe side of the expanding stream, which at every turning of the rocksincreased in depth and violence. The rills from above, and othermountain brooks, pouring from abrupt falls down the craigs, covered himwith spray, and intercepted his passage. Finding it impracticable toproceed through the rushing torrent of a cataract, whose distantroarings might have intimidated even a younger adventurer, he turnedfrom its tumbling waters which burst upon his sight, and crept on hishands and knees up the opposite acclivity, catching by the fern andother weeds to stay him from falling back into the flood below. Prodigious craggy heights towered above his head as he ascended; whilethe rolling clouds which canopied their summits seemed descending towrap him in their "fleecy skirts;" or the projecting rocks bending overthe waters of the glen, left him only a narrow shelf in the cliff, along which he crept till it brought him to the mouth of a cavern. 

He must either enter it or return the way he came, or attempt thedescent of overhanging precipices, which nothing could surmount but thepinions of their native birds. Above him was the mountain. Retreadhis footsteps until he had seen his beloved master, he was resolved notto do-to perish in these glens would be more tolerable to him; forwhile he moved forward, hope, even in the arms of death, would cheerhim with the whisper that he was in the path of duty. He thereforeentered the cavity, and passing on, soon perceived an aperture, throughwhich emerging on the other side, he found himself again on the marginof the river. Having attained a wider bed, it left him a stillnarrower causeway to perform the remainder of his journey. 

Huge masses of rock, canopied with a thick umbrage of firs, beech, andweeping-birch, closed over the glen and almost excluded the light ofday. But more anxious, as he calculated by the increased rapidity ofthe stream he must now be approaching the great fall near his master'sconcealment, Halbert redoubled his speed. But an unlooked-for obstaclebaffled his progress. A growing gloom he had not observed in the skyexcluded valley, having entirely overspread the heavens, at this momentsuddenly discharged itself, amidst peals of thunder, in heavy floods ofrain upon his head. 

Fearful of being overwhelmed by the streams, which now on all sidescrossed his path, he kept upon the edge of the river, to be as far aspossible from the influence of their violence. And thus he proceeded, slowly and with trepidation, through numerous defiles, and under theplunge of many a mountain-torrent, till the augmented storm of a worldof waters, dashing from side to side, and boiling up with the noise andfury of the contending elements above, told him he was indeed not farfrom the fall of Corie Lynn. 

The spray was spread in so thick a mist over the glen, he knew not howto advance. A step further might be on the firm earth, but moreprobably illusive, and dash him into the roaring Lynn, where he wouldbe ingulfed at once in its furious whirlpool. He paused and lookedaround. The rain had ceased, but the thunder still rolled at adistance and echoed tremendously from the surrounding rocks. Halbertshook his gray locks, streaming with wet, and looked toward the sun, now gliding with its last rays the vast sheets of falling water. 

"This is thine hour, my master!" exclaimed the old man; "and surely Iam too near the Lynn to be far from thee!"

With these words he raised the pipe that hung at his breast, and blewthree strains of the appointed air. In former days it used to callfrom her bower that "fair star of evening, " the beauteous Marion, nowdeparted for ever into her native heaven. The notes trembled as hisagitated breath breathed them into the instrument; but feeble as theywere, and though the roar of the cataract might have prevented theirreaching a less attentive era than that of Wallace, yet he sprung fromthe innermost recess under the fall, and dashing through its rushingwaters, the next instant was at the side of Halbert. 

"Faithful creature!" cried he, catching him in his arms, which all thejoy of that moment which ends the anxious wish to learn tidings of whatis dearest in the world, "how fares my Marion?"

"I am weary, " cried the heart-stricken old man; "take me within yoursanctuary, and I will tell you all. "

Wallace perceived that his time-worn servant was indeed exhausted; andknowing the toils and hazards of the perilous track he must have passedover in his way to his fearful solitude, also remembering how, as hesat in his shelter, he had himself dreaded the effects of the stormupon so aged a traveler, he no longer wondered at the dispirited toneof his greeting, and readily accounted for the pale countenance andtremulous step which at first had excited his alarm. 

Giving the old man his hand, he led him with caution to the brink ofthe Lynn; and then, folding him in his arms, dashed with him throughthe tumbling water into the cavern he had chosen for his asylum. Halbert sunk against the rocky side, and putting forth his hand tocatch some of the water as it fell, drew a few drops to his parchedlips, and swallowed them. After this light refreshment, he breathed alittle and turned his eyes upon his anxious master. 

"Are you sufficiently recovered, Halbert, to tell me how you left mydearest Marion. "

Halbert dreaded to see the animated light which now cheered him fromthe eyes of his master, overclouded with the Cimmerian horrors hisstory must unfold; he evaded a direct reply; "I saw your guest insafety; I saw him and the iron box on their way to Bothwell?"

"What!" inquired Wallace, "were we mistaken? was not the earl dead whenwe looked into the well?" Halbert replied in the negative, and wasproceeding with a circumstantial account of his recovery and hisdeparture when Wallace interrupted him. 

"But what of my wife, Halbert? why tell me of others before of her?She whose safety and remembrance are now my sole comfort!"

"Oh, my dear lord!" cried Halbert, throwing himself on his knees in aparoxysm of mental agony, "she remembers you where best her prayers canbe heard. She kneels for her beloved Wallace, before the throne ofGod!"

"Halbert!" cried Sir William, in a low and fearful voice, "what wouldyou say? My Marion-speak! tell me in one word, she lives!"

"In heaven!"

At this confirmation of a sudden terror, imbibed from the ambiguouswords of Halbert, and which his fond heart would not allow him toacknowledge to himself. Wallace covered his face with his hands andfell with a deep groan against the side of the cavern. The horrid ideaof premature maternal pains, occasioned by anguish for him; of herconsequent death, involving perhaps that of her infant, struck him tothe soul; a mist seemed passing over his eyes; life was receding; andgladly did he believe he felt his spirit on the eve of joining hers. 

In having declared that the idol of his master's heart no longerexisted for him in this world, Halbert thought he had revealed theworst, and he went on. "Her latest breath was sent in prayer for you. 'My Wallace' were the last words her angel spirit uttered as it issuedfrom her bleeding wounds. "

The cry that burst from the heart of Wallace, as he started on his feetat this horrible disclosure, seemed to pierce through all the recessedof the glen; and with an instantaneous and dismal return was re-echoedfrom rock to rock. Halbert threw his arms round his master's knees. The frantic blaze of his eyes struck him with affright. "Hear me, mylord; for the sake of your wife, now an angel hovering near you, hearwhat I have to say. "

Wallace looked around with a wild countenance. "My Marion near me!Blessed spirit! Oh, my murdered wife! my unborn babe! Who made thosewounds? cried he, catching Halbert's arm with a tremendous thoughunconscious grasp; "tell me who had the heart to aim a blow at thatangel's life?"

"The Governor of Lanark, " replied Halbert. 

"How? for what?" demanded Wallace, with the terrific glare of madnessshooting from his eyes. "My wife! my wife! what had she done?"

"He came at the head of a band of ruffians, and seizing my lady, commanded her on the peril of her life, to declare where you and theEarl of Mar and the box of treasure were concealed. My lady persistedin refusing him information, and in a deadly rage he plunged his swordinto her breast. " Wallace clinched his hands over his face, andHalbert went on. "Before he aimed a second blow, I had broken from themen who held me, and thrown myself on her bosom; but all could not saveher; the villain's sword had penetrated her heart!"

"Great God!" exclaimed Wallace, "dost thou hear this murder?" His handswere stretched toward heaven; then falling on his knees, with his eyesfixed. "Give me power, Almighty Judge!" cried he, "to assert thyjustice! Let me avenge this angel's blood, and then take me to thymercy!"

"My gracious master, " cried Halbert, seeing him rise with a sterncomposure, "here is the fatal sword; the blood on it is sacred, and Ibrought it to you. "

Wallace took it in his hand. He gazed at it, touched it, and kissed itfrantically. The blade was scarcely yet dry, and the ensanguined huecame off upon the pressure. "Marion! Marion!" cried he, "is it thine?Does not thy blood stain my lip?" He paused for a moment, leaning hisburning forehead against the fatal blade; then looking up with aterrific smile. "Beloved of my soul! never shall this sword leave myhand till it has drunk the life-blood of thy murderer. "

"What is it you intend, my lord?" cried Halbert, viewing with increasedalarm the resolute ferocity which now, blazing from every part of hiscountenance, seemed to dilate his figure with more than mortal daring. "What can you do? Your single arm-"

"I am not single-God is with me. I am his avenger. Now tremble, tyranny! I come to hurl thee down!" At the word he sprung from thecavern's mouth, and had already reached the topmost cliff when thepiteous cries of Halbert penetrated his ear; they recalled him torecollection, and returning to his servant, he tried to soothe hisfear, and spoke in a composed though determined tone. "I will lead youfrom this solitude to the mountains, where the shepherds of Ellerslieare tending their flocks. With them you will find a refuge, till youhave strength to reach Bothwell Castle. Lord Mar will protect you formy sake. "

Halbert now remembered the bugle, and putting it into the master'shand, with its accompanying message, asked for some testimony inreturn, that the earl might know that he had delivered it safely. "Even a lock of your precious hair, my beloved master, will besufficient. "

"Thou shalt have it, severed from my head by this accurse steel, "answered Wallace, taking off his bonnet, and letting his amber locksfall in tresses on his shoulders. Halbert burst into a fresh flood oftears, for he remembered how often it had been the delight of Marion tocomb these bright tresses and to twist them round he ivory fingers. Wallace looked up as the old man's sobs became audible, and read histhoughts: "It will never be again, Halbert, " cried he, and with a firmgrasp of the sword he cut off a large handful of his hair. 

"Marion, thy blood hath marked it!" exclaimed he; "and every hair on myhead shall be dyed of the same hue, before this sword is sheathed uponthy murderers. Here, Halbert, " continued he, knotting it together, "take this to the Earl of Mar; it is all, most likely, he will ever seeagain of William Wallace. Should I fall, tell him to look on that, andin my wrongs read the future miseries of Scotland, and remember thatGod armoreth the patriot's hand. Let him set on that conviction andScotland may yet be free. "

Halbert placed the lock in his bosom, but again repeated hisentreaties, that his master would accompany him to Bothwell Castle. Heurged the consolation he would meet from the good earl's friendship. 

"If he indeed regard me, " returned Wallace, "for my sake let himcherish you. My consolations must come from a higher hand; I go whereit directs. If I live, you shall see me again; but twilightapproaches-we must away. The sun must not rise again upon Heselrigge. " Halbert now followed the rapid steps of Wallace, who, assisting thefeeble limbs of his faithful servant, drew him up the precipitous sideof the Lynn, ** and then leaping from rock to rock, awaited withimpatience the slower advances of the poor old harper, as he creptround a circuit of overhanging cliffs, to join him on the summit of thecraigs. 

**The cavern which sheltered Sir William Wallace, near Corie Lynn, isyet revered by the people. 

Together they struck into the most inaccessible defiles of themountains, and proceeded, till on discerning smoke whitening with itsascending curls the black sides of the impending rocks, Wallace sawhimself near the objects of his search. He sprung on a high cliffprojecting over this mountain-valley, and blowing his bugle with a fewnotes of the well-known pibroch of Lanarkshire, was answered by thereverberations of a thousand echoes. 

At the loved sounds which had not dared to visit their ears since theScottish standard was lowered to Edward, the hills seemed teeming withlife. Men rushed from their fastnesses, and women with their babeseagerly followed to see whence sprung a summons so dear to everyScottish heart. Wallace stood on the cliff, like the newly-arousedgenius of his country; his long plaid floated afar, and his glitteringhair streaming on the blast, seemed to mingle with the golden fireswhich shot from the heavens. Wallace raised his eyes-a clash as of thetumult of contending armies filled the sky, and flames, and flashingsteel, and the horrid red of battle, streamed from the clouds upon thehills. **

**The late Duke of Gordon exhibited a similar scene to Prince Leopold, when his royal highness visited Gordon Castle, his "hills reeming withlife. "-(1830. )

"Scotsmen!" cried Wallace, waving the fatal sword, which blazed in theglare of these northern lights like a flaming brand, "behold how theheavens cry aloud to you! I come, in the midst of their fires, to callyou to vengeance. I come in the name of all ye hold dear, of the wivesof you bosoms, and the children in their arms, to tell you the poniardof England is unsheathed-innocence and age and infancy fall before it. With this sword, last night, did Heselrigge, the English tyrant ofLanark, break into my house, and murder my wife!"

The shriek of horror that burst from every mouth, interrupted Wallace. "Vengeance! vengeance!" was the cry of the men, while tumultuouslamentations for the "sweet Lady of Ellerslie, " filled the air from thewomen. 

Wallace sprung from the cliff into the midst of his brave countrymen. "Follow me, then, to strike the mortal blow!"

"Lead on!" cried a vigorous old man. "I drew this stout claymore lastin the battle of Largs. ** Life and Alexander was then the word ofvictory: now, ye accursed Southrons, ye shall meet the slogan [FN#9:Slogan, so the war0word was termed. -(1809. )] of Death and Lady Marion. "

**In the battle of Largs, Sir Malcolm Wallace, the father of Wallace, fell gloriously fighting against the Danes. -(1830. )

"Death and Lady Marion!" was echoed with shouts from mouth to mouth. Every sword was drawn; and those hardy peasants who owned none, seizingthe instruments of pasturage, armed themselves with wolf-spears, pickaxes, forks, and scythes. 

Sixty resolute men now ranged themselves around their chief. Wallace, whose widowed heart turned icy cold at the dreadful slogan of hisMarion's name, more fiercely grasped his sword, and murmured tohimself. "From this day may Scotland date her liberty, or Wallacereturn no more! My faithful friends, " cried he, turning to his men, and placing his plumed bonnet on his head, "let the spirits of yourfathers inspire you souls; ye go to assert that freedom for which theydied. Before the moon sets, the tyrant of Lanark must fall in blood. "

"Death and Lady Marion!" was the pealing answer that echoed from thehills. 

Wallace again sprung on the cliffs. His brave peasants followed him;and taking their rapid march by a near cut through a hithertounexplored defile of the Cartlane Craigs, leaping chasms, and climbingperpendicular rocks, they suffered no obstacles to impede their steps, while thus rushing onward like lions to their prey. 

Chapter V. 

Lanark Castle. 

The women, and the men who age withheld from so desperate anenterprise, now thronged around Halbert, to ask a circumstantialaccount of the disaster which had filled all with so much horror. 

Many tears followed his recital; not one of his auditors was anindifferent listener; all had individually or in persons dear to them, partaken of the tender Marion's benevolence. Their sick beds had beencomforted by her charity; her voice had often administered consolationto their sorrows; her hand had smoothed their pillows, and placed thecrucifix before their dying eyes. Some had recovered to bless her, andsome had departed to record her virtues in heaven. 

"Ah! is she gone?" cried a young woman, raising her face, covered withtears, from the bosom of her infant; "is the loveliest lady that everthe sun shone upon, cold in the grave? Alas, for me! she it was thatgave me the roof under which my baby was born; she it was who, when theSouthron soldiers slew my father, and drove us from our home inAyrshire, gave to my old mother, and my then wounded husband, ourcottage by the burnside. Ah! well can I spare him now to avenge hermurder. "

The night being far advanced, Halbert retired, at the invitation ofthis young woman, to repose on the heather-bed of her husband who wasnow absent with Wallace. The rest of the peasantry withdrew to theircoverts, while she and some other women, whose anxieties would notallow them to sleep, sat at the cavern's mouth watching the slowlymoving hours. 

The objects of their fond and fervent prayers, Wallace and his littlearmy, were rapidly pursuing their march. It was midnight-all wassilent as they hurried through the glen, as they ascended with flyingfootsteps the steep acclivities that led to the cliffs which overhungthe vale of Ellerslie. Wallace must pass along their brow. Beneathwas the tomb of his sacrificed Marion! He rushed forward to snatch onelook, even of the roof which shrouded her beloved remains. 

But in the moment before he mounted the intervening height, a soldierin English armor crossed the path, and was seized by his men. One ofthem would have cut him down, but Wallace turned away the weapon. "Hold, Scot!" cried he, "you are not a Southron, to strike thedefenseless. The man has no sword. "

The reflection on their enemy which this plea of mercy containedreconciled the impetuous Scots to the clemency of their leader. Therescued man, joyfully recognizing the voice of Wallace, exclaimed, "Itis my lord! It is Sir William Wallace that has saved my life a secondtime!"

"Who are you?" asked Wallace; "that helmet can cover no friend of mine. "

"I am your servant Dugald, " returned the man; "he whom your brave armsaved from the battle-ax of Arthur Heselrigge. "

"I cannot ask you how you came by that armor; but if you be yet a Scotthrow it off and follow me. "

"Not to Ellerslie, my lord, " cried he; "it has been plundered andburned to the ground by the Governor of Lanark. "

"Then, " exclaimed Wallace, striking his breast, "are the remains of mybeloved Marion forever ravished from my eyes? Insatiate monster!"

"He is Scotland's curse, " cried the veteran of Largs. "Forward, mylord, in mercy to your country's groans!"

Wallace had now mounted the craig which overlooked Ellerslie. His oncehappy home had disappeared, and all beneath lay a heap of smokingashes. He hastened from the sight, and directing the point of hissword with a forceful action toward Lanark, re-echoed with supernaturalstrength, "Forward!"

With the rapidity of lightning his little host flew over the hills, reached the cliffs which divided them from the town, and leaped downbefore the outward trench of the castle of Lanark. In a moment Wallacesprung so feeble a barrier; and with a shout of death, in which thetremendous slogan of his men now joined, he rushed upon the guard thatheld the northern gate. 

Here slept the governor. These opponents being slain by the firstsweep of the Scottish swords, Wallace hastened onward, winged withtwofold retribution. The noise of battle was behind him; for theshouts of his men had aroused the garrison and drawn its soldiers, half-naked, to the spot. He reached the door of the governor. Thesentinel who stood there flew before the terrible warrior thatpresented himself. All the mighty vengeance of Wallace blazed in hisface and seemed to surround his figure with a terrible splendor. Withone stroke of his foot he drove the door from its hinges, and rushedinto the room. 

What a sight for the now awakened and guilty Heselrigge! It was thehusband of the defenseless woman he had murdered come in the power ofjustice, with uplifted arm and vengeance in his eyes? With a terrificscream of despair, and an outcry for the mercy he dared not expect, hefell back into the bed and sought an unavailing shield beneath itsfolds. 

"Marion! Marion!" cried Wallace, as he threw himself toward the bed andburied the sword, yet red with her blood, through the coverlid, deepinto the heart of her murderer. A fiend-like yell from the slainHeselrigge told him his work was done; and drawing out the sword hetook the streaming blade in his hand. "Vengeance is satisfied, " criedhe; "thus, O God! do I henceforth divide self from my heart!" As hespoke he snapped the sword in twain, and throwing away the pieces, putback with his hand the impending weapons of his brave companions, whohaving cleared the passage of their assailants, had hurried forward toassist in ridding their country of so detestable a tyrant. 

"Tis done, " cried he. As he spoke he drew down the coverlid anddiscovered the body of the governor weltering in blood. The ghastlycountenance, on which the agonies of hell seemed imprinted, glaredhorrible even in death. 

Wallace turned away; but the men exulting in the sight, with a shout oftriumph exclaimed, "So fall the enemies of Sir William Wallace!"

"Rather to fall the enemies of Scotland!" cried he; "from this hourWallace has neither love nor resentment but for her. Heaven has heardme devote myself to work our country's freedom or to die. Who willfollow me in so just a cause?"

"All!-with Wallace forever!"

The new clamor which this resolution excited, intimidated a fresh bandof soldiers, who were hastening across the courtyard to seek the enemyin the governor's apartments. But on the noise they hastily retreated, and no exertions of their officers could prevail on them to advanceagain, or even to appear in sight, when the resolute Scots with Wallaceat their head soon afterward issued from the great gate! The Englishcommanders seeing the panic of their men, and which they were less ableto surmount on account of the way to the gate being strewn with theirslain comrades, fell back into the shadow of the towers, where by thelight of the moon, like men paralyzed, they viewed the departure oftheir enemies over the trenches. 

Chapter VI. 

Cartlane Craigs. 

The sun was rising from the eastern hills when the victorious groupre-entered the mountain-glen where their families lay. The cheerfulsounds of their bugles aroused the sleepers from their caves; and manywere the gratulations and embraces which welcomed the warriors toaffection and repose. 

Wallace, while he threw himself along a bed of purple heath, gatheredfor him by many a busy female hand, listened with a calmed mind to thefond inquiries of Halbert, who, awakened by the first blast of thehorn, had started from his shelter and hastened to hail the safe returnof his master. While his faithful followers retired each to the bosomof his rejoicing family, the fugitive chief of Ellerslie remained alonewith the old man, and recounted to him the success of his enterprise, and the double injuries he had avenged. "The assassin, " continued he, "has paid with his life for his inexpiable crime. He is slain, andwith him several of Edward's garrison. My vengeance may be appeased;but what, O Halbert, can bring redress to my widowed heart? All islost to me; I have now nothing to do with this world, but as I may bethe instrument of good to others! The Scottish sword has now beenredrawn against our foes; and, with the blessing of Heaven, I swear itshall not be sheathed till Scotland be rid of the tyranny which hasslain my happiness! This night my gallant Scots have sworn toaccomplish my vow, and death or liberty must be the future fate ofWallace and his friends. "

At these words, tears ran down the cheeks of the venerable harper. "Alas! my too brave master, " exclaimed he, "what is it you would do?Why rush upon certain destruction? For the sake of her memory whom youdeplore; in pity to the worthy Earl of Mar, who will arraign himself asthe cause of all these calamities, and of your death, should you fall, retract this desperate vow!"

"No, my good Halbert, " returned Wallace. "I am neither desperate norinefficient; and you, faithful creature, shall have no cause to mournthis night's resolution. GO to Lord Mar, and tell him what are myresolves. I have nothing now that binds me to life but my country; andhenceforth she shall be to me as mistress, wife and child. Would youdeprive me of this tie, Halbert? Would you, by persuading me to resignmy interest in her, devote me to a hermit's seclusion amongst theserocks? for I will never again appear in the tracks of men if it be notas the defender of her rights. "

"But where, my master, shall we find you, should the earl choose tojoin you with his followers?"

"In this wilderness, whence I shall not remove rashly. My purpose isto save my countrymen, not to sacrifice them in needless dangers. "

Halbert, oppressed with sorrow at the images his foreboding heart drewof the direful scenes in which his beloved master had pledged himselfto become the leader, bowed his head with submission, and, leavingWallace to his rest, retired to the mouth of the cavern to weep alone. 

It was noon before the chief awoke from the death-like sleep into whichkind nature had plunged his long-harassed senses. He opened his eyeslanguidly, and when the sight of his rocky apartment forced on him therecollection of all his miseries, he uttered a deep groan. That sadsound, so different from the jocund voice with which Wallace used toissue from his rest, struck on the heart of Halbert; he drew near hismaster to receive his last commands for Bothwell. "On my knees, " addedhe, "will I implore the earl to send you succor. "

"He needs not prayers for that, " returned Wallace; "but depart, dear, worthy Halbert; it will comfort me to know you are in safety; andwhithersoever you go, you carry my thanks and blessings with you. "

Old age opens the fountains of tears; Halbert's flowed profusely, andbathed his master's hand. Could Wallace have wept, it would have beenthen; but that gentle emollient of grief was denied to him, and, with avoice of assumed cheerfulness, he renewed his efforts to encourage hisdesponding servant. Half persuaded that a Superior Being did indeedcall his beloved master to some extraordinary exertions for Scotland, Halbert bade him an anxious farewell, and then withdrew to commit himto the fidelity of the companions of his destiny. 

A few of them led the old man on his way, as far as the westerndeclivity of the hills, and then, bidding him good speed, he took theremainder of his journey alone. 

After traversing many a weary mile, between Cartlane Craigs andBothwell Castle, he reached the valley in which that fortress stands, and calling to the warder at his gates, that he came from Sir WilliamWallace, was immediately admitted, and conducted into the castle. 

Halbert was led by a servant into a spacious chamber, where the earllay on a couch. A lady, richly habited, and in the bloom of life, satat his head. Another, much younger, and of resplendent beauty, kneltat his feet, with a salver of medicinal cordials in her hand. The LadyMarion's loveliness had been that of a soft moonlight evening; but theface which now turned upon Halbert as he entered, was "full of light, and splendor, and joy;" and the old man's eyes, even though dimmed intears, were dazzled. A young man stood near her. On the entrance ofHalbert, whom the earl instantly recognized, he raised himself on hisarm, and welcomed him. The young lady rose, and the young man steppedeagerly forward. 

The earl inquired anxiously for Sir William Wallace, and asked if hemight expect him soon at Bothwell. 

"He cannot yet come, my lord, " replied Halbert; "hard is the task hehas laid upon his valiant head; but he is avenged! He has slain theGovernor of Lanark. " A faint exclamation broke from the lips of theyoung lady. 

"How?" demanded the earl. 

Halbert now gave a particular account of the anguish of Wallace, whenhe was told of the sanguinary events which had taken place atEllerslie. As the honest harper described, in his own ardent language, the devoted zeal with which the shepherds on the heights took up armsto avenge the wrong done to their chief, the countenance of the younglady, and of the youth, glowed through tears; they looked on eachother; and Halbert proceeded:

"When my dear master and his valiant troop were pursuing their way toLanark, he was met by Dugald, the wounded man who had rushed into theroom to apprise us of the advance of the English forces. During theconfusion of that horrible night, and in the midst of the contention, in spite of his feebleness he crept away, and concealed himself fromthe soldiers amongst the bushes of the glen. When all was over, hecame from his hiding-place; and finding the English soldier's helmetand cloak, poor Dugald, still fearful of falling in with any stragglingparty of Heselrigge's, disguised himself in those Southron clothes. Exhausted with hunger, he was venturing toward the house in search offood, when the sight of armed men in the hall made him hastily retreatinto his former place of refuge. His alarm was soon increased by aredoubled noise from the house; oaths and horrid bursts of merrimentseemed to have turned that once abode of honor and of loveliness intothe clamorous haunts of ribaldry and rapine. In the midst of theuproar, he was surprised by seeing flames issue from the windows. Soldiers poured from the doors with shouts of triumph; some carried offthe booty, and others watched by the fire till the interior of thebuilding was consumed and the rest sunk a heap of smoking ruins. 

"The work completed, these horrid ministers of devastation left thevale to its own solitude. Dugald, after waiting a long time toascertain they were quite gone, crawled from the bushes, and, ascendingthe cliffs, he was speeding to the mountains, when, encountering ourarmed shepherds, they mistook him for an English soldier, and seizedhim. The chief of ruined Ellerslie recognized his servant; and, withredoubled indignation, his followers heard the history of the molderingashes before them. "

"Brave, persecuted Wallace!" exclaimed the earl; "how dearly was mylife purchased! But proceed, Halbert; tell me that he returned safefrom Lanark. "

Halbert now recounted the dreadful scenes which took place in thattown; and that when the governor fell, Wallace made a vow never tomingle with the world again till Scotland should be free. "

"Alas!" cried the earl, "what miracle is to effect that? Surely hewill not bury those noble qualities, that prime of manhood, within thegloom of a cloister!"

"No, my lord; he has retired to the fastnesses of Cartlane Craigs. "

"Why, " resumed Mar, "why did he not rather fly to me? This castle isstrong; and while one stone of it remains upon another, not all thehosts of England should take him hence. "

"It was not your friendship he doubted, " returned the old man, "lovefor his country compels him to reject all comfort in which she does notshare. His last words to me were these: 'I have nothing now to do butto assert the liberties of Scotland, and to rid her of her enemies. Goto Lord Mar; take this lock of my hair, stained with the blood of mywife. It is all, most likely, he will ever again see of WilliamWallace. Should I fall, tell him to look on that, and in my wrongsread the future miseries of Scotland; and remember, that God armeth thepatriot!"

Tears dropped so fast from the young lady's eyes, she was obliged towalk to a window, to restrain a more violent burst of grief. 

"O! my uncle, " cried the youth, "surely the freedom of Scotland ispossible. I feel in my soul, that the words of the brave Wallace areprophetic. "

The earl held the lock of hair in his hands; he regarded it, lost inmeditation. 

"'God armeth the patriot!'" He paused again, his before pallid cheektaking a thousand animated hues; then raising the sacred present to hislips, "Yes, " cried he, "thy vow shall be performed; and while DonaldMar has an arm to wield a sword, or a man to follow to the field, thoushalt command both him and them!"

"But not as you are, my lord!" cried the elder lady; "your wounds areyet unhealed; your fever is still raging! Would it not be madness toexpose your safety at such a crisis?"

"I shall not take arms myself, " answered he, "till I can bear them toeffect; meanwhile all of my clan, and of my friends, that I can raiseto guard the life of my deliverer and to promote the cause, must besummoned. This lock shall be my pennon; and what Scotsman will look onthat, and shrink from his colors! Here, Helen, my child, " cried he, addressing the young lady, "before to-morrow's dawn, have this hairwrought into my banner. It will be a patriot's standard; and let hisown irresistible words be the motto-God armeth me. "

Helen advanced with awestruck trepidation. Having been told by theearl of the generous valor of Wallace, and of the cruel death of hislady, she had conceived a gratitude and a pity deeper than languagecould express, for the man who had lost so much by succoring one sodear to hear. She took the lock, waving in yellow light upon herhands, and, trembling with emotion, was leaving the room, when sheheard her cousin throw himself on his knees. 

"I beseech you, my honored uncle, " cried he, "if you have love for me, or value for my future fame, allow me to be the bearer of your bannerto Sir William Wallace. "

Helen stopped at the threshold to hear the reply. 

"You could not, my dear nephew, " returned the earl, "have asked me anyfavor I could grant with so much joy. To-morrow I will collect thepeasantry of Bothwell, and with those, and my own followers, you shalljoin Wallace the same night. "

Ignorant of the horrors of war, and only alive to the glory of thepresent cause, Helen sympathized in the ardor of her cousin, and with athrill of sad delight hurried to her apartment, to commence her task. 

Far different were the sentiments of the countess, her stepmother. Assoon as Lord Mar had let this declaration escape his lips, alarmed atthe effect so much agitation might have on his enfeebled constitution, and fearful of the perilous cause he ventured thus openly to espouse, she desired his nephew to take the now comforted Halbert (who waspouring forth his gratitude to the earl, for the promptitude of hisorders), and see that he was attended with hospitality. 

When the room was left to the earl and herself, she ventured toremonstrate with him upon the facility with which he had become a partyin so treasonable a matter. "Consider, my lord, " continued she, "thatScotland is now entirely in the power of the English monarch. Hisgarrisons occupy our towns, his creatures hold every place of trust inthe kingdom!"

"And is such a list of oppressions, my dear lady, to be an argument forlonger bearing them? Had I, and other Scottish nobles, dared to resistthis overwhelming power after the battle of our liberties, kept our ownunsheathed within the bulwarks of our mountains, Scotland might now befree; I should not have been insulted by our English tyrants in thestreets of Lanark; and, to save my life, William Wallace would not nowbe mourning his murdered wife, and without a home to shelter him!"

Lady Mar paused at this observation, but resumed, "That may be true. But the die is cast; Scotland is lost forever; and by your attemptingto assist your friend in this rash essay to recover it, you will onlylose yourself also, without preserving him. The project is wild andneedless. What would you have? Now that the contention between thetwo kings is past; now that Baliol has surrendered his crown to Edward, is not Scotland at peace?"

"A bloody peace, Joanna, " answered the earl; "witness these wounds. Ausurper's peace is more destructive than his open hostilities; plunderand assassination are its concomitants. I have now seen and feltenough of Edward's jurisdiction. It is time I should awake, and, likeWallace, determine to die for Scotland, or avenge her. "

Lady Mar wept. "Cruel Donald! is this the reward of all my love andduty? You tear yourself from me, you consign your estates tosequestration, you rob your children of their name; nay, by yourinfectious example, you stimulate our brother Bothwell's son to headthe band that is to join this madman, Wallace!"

"Hold, Joanna!" cried the earl; "what is it I hear? You call the herowho, in saving your husband's life, reduced himself to these cruelextremities, a madman! Was he made because he prevented the Countessof Mar from being a widow? Was he made because he prevented herchildren from being fatherless?"

The countess, overcome by this cutting reproach, threw herself upon herhusband's neck. "Alas! my lord, " cried she, "all is madness to me thatwould plunge you into danger. Think of your own safety; of my innocenttwins now in their cradle, should you fall. Think of our brother'sfeeling when you send his only son to join one he, perhaps, would calla rebel!"

"If Earl Bothwell considered himself a vassal of Edward's he would notnow be with Lord Loch-awe. From the moment that gallant Highlanderretired to Argyleshire, the King of England regarded his adherents withsuspicion. Bothwell's present visit to Loch-awe, you see, issufficient to sanction the plunder of this castle by the peacefulgovernment you approve. You saw the opening of those proceedings! Andhad they come to their dreadful issue, where, my dear Joanna, would nowbe your home, your husband, your children? It was the arm of the bravechief of Ellerslie which saved them from destruction. 

Lady Mar shuddered. "I admit the truth of what you say. But oh! is itnot hard to put my all to the hazard; to see the bloody field on oneside of my beloved Donald, and the mortal scaffold on the other?"

"Hush!" cried the earl, "it is justice that beckons me, and victorywill receive me to her arms. Let, oh Power above!" exclaimed he, inthe fervor of enthusiasm, "let the victorious field for Scotland beDonald Mar's grave, rather than doom him to live a witness of hermiseries!"

"I cannot stay to hear you!" answered the countess; "I must invoke theVirgin to give me courage to be a patriot's wife; at present, yourwords are daggers to me. "

In uttering this she hastily withdrew, and left the earl to muse on thepast-to concert plans for the portentous future. 

Chapter VII. 

Bothwell Castle. 

Meanwhile the Lady Helen had retired to her own apartments. Lord Mar'sbanner being brought to her from the armory, she sat down to weave intoits silken texture the amber locks of the Scottish chief. Admiringtheir softness and beauty, while her needle flew, she pictured toherself the fine countenance they had once adorned. 

The duller extremities of the hair, which a sadder liquid than thatwhich now dropped from her eyes and rendered stiff and difficult toentwine with the warp of the silk, seemed to adhere to her fingers. Helen almost shrunk from the touch. "Unhappy lady!" she sighed toherself; "what a pang must have rent her heart, when the stroke of socruel a death tore her from such a husband! and how must he have lovedher, when for her sake he thus forswears all future joys but thosewhich camps and victories may yield! Ah! what would I give to be mycousin Murray, to bear this pennon at his side! What would I give toreconcile so admirable a being to happiness again-to weep his griefs, or smile him into comfort! To be that man's friend, would be a higherhonor than to be Edward's queen. "

Her heart was thus discoursing with itself when a page opened the doorfor her cousin, who begged admittance. She had just fastened theflowing charge into its azure field, and while embroidering the motto, gladly assented. 

"You know not, my good old man, " said the gallant Murray to Halbert, ashe conducted him across the galleries, "what a noble mind is containedin that lovely young creature. I was brought up with her, and to thesweet contagion of her taste do I owe that love of true glory whichcarries me to the side of Sir William Wallace. The virtuous only canawaken any interest in her heart; and in these degenerate days longmight have been its sleep had not the history which my uncle recountedof your brave master aroused her attention, and filled her with anadmiration equal to my own. I know she rejoices in my presentdestination. And to prevent her hearing from your own lips all youhave now told me of the mild as well as heroic virtues of my intendedcommander-all you have said of the heroism of his wife-would bedepriving her of a mournful pleasure, only to be appreciated by a heartsuch as hers. "

The gray-haired bard of Ellerslie, who had ever received the dearestreward of his songs in the smiles of its mistress, did not requirepersuasion to appear before the gentle lady of Mar, or to recite in herears the story of the departed loveliness, fairer than poet everfeigned. 

Helen rose as he and her cousin appeared. Murray approved theexecution of her work; and Halbert, with a full heart, took the pennonin his hand. "Ah! little did my dear lady think, " exclaimed he, "thatone of these loved locks would ever be suspended on a staff to lead mento battle! What changes have a few days made! She, the gentlest ofwomen, laid in a bloody grave; and he, the most benevolent of humanbeings, wielding an exterminating sword!

"You speak of her grave, venerable man, " inquired Helen; "had you, then, an opportunity of performing the rites of sepulture to herremains?"

"No, madam, " replied he; "after the worthy English soldier now in thiscastle, assisted me to place her precious body in my lord's oratory, Ihad no opportunity of returning to give her a more holy grave. "

"Alas!" cried Helen; "then her sacred relics have been consumed in theburning house!"

"I hope not, " rejoined Halbert; "the chapel I speak of is at somedistance from the main building. It was excavated in the rock by SirRonald Crawford, who gave the name of Ellerslie to this estate, incompliment to Sir William's place of birth in Renfrewshire, andbestowed it on the bridal pair. Since then, the Ellerslie ofClydesdale has been as dear to my master as that of the Carth; and wellit might be, for it was not only the home of all his wedded joys, butunder its roof his mother, the Lady Margaret Crawford, drew her firstbreath. Ah! woe is me! that happy house is now, like herself, reducedto cold, cold ashes! She married Sir Malcolm Wallace, and he is gonetoo! Both the parents of my honored master died in the bloom of theirlives; and a grievous task will it be to whoever is to tell the goodSir Ronald that the last sweet flower of Ellerslie is now cut down!that the noblest branch of his own stem is torn from the soil to whichhe had transplanted it, and cast far away into the waste wilderness!"**

**The Ellerslie in Renfrewshire here referred to, and which was thebirthplace of William Wallace, and the hereditary property of hisfather, Sir Malcolm Wallace, was situated in the abbey parish ofPaisley, three miles west of the won of Paisley, and nine from Glasgow. A large old oak, still called Wallace's Oak, stands close to the roadfrom Paisley to Leith, and within a short distance from it once stoodthe manor of Ellerslie. The venerable name is now corrupted intoElderslie, and the estate has become the property of Archibald Spiers, Esq. , M. P. For Renfrewshire. For this topographical account, I amindebted to a Renfrewshire gentleman. -(1809. )

The tears of the venerable harper bore testimony to his inward resolve, that this messenger should not be himself. Lady Helen, who had falleninto a reverie during the latter part of his speech, now spoke, andwith something of eagerness. 

"Then we shall hope, " rejoined she, "that the oratory has not onlyescaped the flames, but perhaps the access of the English soldiers?Would it not comfort your lord to have that sweet victim entombedaccording to the rites of the church?"

"Surely my lady; but how can that be done? He thinks her remains werelost in the conflagration of Ellerslie; and for fear of precipitatinghim into the new dangers which might have menaced him had he sought tobring away her body, I did not disprove his mistake. "

"But her body shall be brought away, " rejoined Lady Helen; "it shallhave holy burial. "

"To effect this, command my services, " exclaimed Murray. 

Helen thanked him for an assistance which would render the completionof her design easy. The English soldier as guide, and a troop fromBothwell, must accompany him. 

"Alas! my young lord, " interposed Halbert, "suppose you should meetsome of the English still loitering there?"

"And what of that, my honest Halbert? would not I and my trusty bandmake them clear the way? Is it not to give comfort to the deliverer ofmy uncle, that I seek the glen? and shall anything in mortal shape makeAndrew Murray turn his back? No, Halbert! I was not born on St. Andrew's day for naught; and by his bright cross I swear either to layLady Wallace in the tomb of my ancestors, or leave my bones to bleachon the grave of hers. "

Helen loved the resolution of her cousin; and believing that the nowravaged Ellerslie had no attractions to hold marauders amongst itsruins, she dismissed Lord Andrew to make his preparations, and turnedherself to prefer her suit accordingly to her father. 

Ere Halbert withdrew, he respectfully put her hand to his lips. "Good-night, " continued she, "ere you see me again, I trust the earthlypart of the angel now in paradise will be safe within these towers. "He poured a thousand blessings on her head, and almost thought that hesaw in her beautiful form one of heaven's inhabitants sent to bear awayhis dear mistress to her divine abode. 

On entering her father's apartment, Lady Helen found him alone. Sherepeated to him the substance of her conversation with Wallace'sfaithful servant; "and my wish is, " continued she, "to have themurdered lady's remains entombed in the cemetery of this castle. "

The earl approved her request, with expressions of satisfaction at thefilial affection which so lively a gratitude to his preserver evinced. 

"May I, then, my dear father, " returned she, "have your permission topay our debt of gratitude to Sir William Wallace to the utmost of ourpower?"

"You are at liberty, my noble child, to do as you please. My vassals, my coffers, are all at your command. "

Helen kissed his hand. "May I have what I please from the Bothwellarmory?"

"Command even there, " said the earl; "your uncle Bothwell is too true aScot to grudge a sword in so pious a cause. "

Helen threw her arms about her father's neck, thanking him tenderly, and with a beating heart retired to prosecute her plans. Murray, whomet her in the anteroom, informed her that fifty men, the sturdiest inthe glen, awaited her orders; while she, telling her cousin of theearl's approval, took the sacred banner in her hand, and followed himto the gallery in the hall. 

The moment she appeared, a shout of joy bade her welcome. Murray wavedhis hands in token of silence; while she, smiling with the benignitythat spoke her angel errand, spoke with agitation:

"My brave friends!" said she, "I thank you for the ardor with which, bythis night's enterprise, you assist me to pay, in part, the everlastingtribute due to the man who preserved to me the blessing of a father. 

"With that spirit, then, " returned she, "I address ye with greaterconfidence. Who amongst you will shrink from following this standardto the field for Scotland's honor? Who will refuse to make himself theespecial guardian of the life of Sir William Wallace? and who, in themoment of peril, will not stand by him to the last?

"None are her, " cried a young man, advancing before his fellows, "whowould not gladly die in his defense. "

"We swear it, " burst from every lip at once. 

She bowed her head, and said, "Return from Ellerslie to-morrow, withthe bier of its sainted mistress, I will then bestow upon every man inthis band a war-bonnet plumed with my colors; and this banner shallthen lead you to the side of Sir William Wallace. In the shock ofbattle look at its golden ensign, and remember that God not only armeththe patriot's hand, but shieldeth his heart. In this faith, be ye thebucklers which Heaven sends to guard the life of Wallace; and, sohonored, exult in your station, and expect the future gratitude ofScotland. "

"Wallace and Lady Helen! to death or liberty!" was the animatedresponse to this exhortation; and smiling and crossing her hands overher bosom, in token of thanks of them and to Heaven, she retired in themidst of their acclamations. Murray, ready armed for his expedition, met her at the door. Restored to his usual vivacity by thespirit-moving emotions which the present scene awakened in his heart, he forgot the horror which had aroused his zeal, in the glory of someanticipated victory; and giving her a gay salutation, led her back toher apartments, where the English soldier awaited her commands. LadyHelen, with a gentle grace, commended his noble resentment ofHeselrigge's violence. 

"Lands in Mar shall be yours, " added she, "or a post of honor in thelittle army the earl is now going to raise. Speak but the word, andyou shall find, worthy Englishman, that neither a Scotsman, nor hisdaughter, know what it is to be ungrateful. "

The blood mounted into the soldier's cheek. "I thank you, sweetestlady, for this generous offer; but, as I am an Englishman, I dare notaccept it. My arms are due to my own country; and whether I am tied toit by lands or possessions, or have naught but my English blood and myoath to my king to bind me, still I should be equally unwarranted inbreaking these bonds. I left Heselrigge because he dishonored mycountry; and for me to forswear her, would be to make myself infamous. Hence, all I ask is, that after I have this night obeyed your graciouscommands, in leading your men to Ellerslie, the Earl of Mar will allowme instantly to depart for the nearest port. "

Lady Helen replied that she revered his sentiments too sincerely toinsult them by any persuasions to the contrary; and taking a diamondclasp from her bosom, she put it into his hand; "Wear it in remembranceof your virtue, and of Helen Mar's gratitude. "

The man kissed it respectfully, and bowing, swore to preserve sodistinguishing a gift to the latest hour of his existence. 

Helen retired to her chamber to finish her task; and Murray, biddingher good-night, repaired to the earl's apartments, to take his finalorders before he and his troop set out for the ruins of Ellerslie. 

Chapter VIII. 

Bothwell Chapel. 

Night having passed over the sleepless heads of the inhabitants ofBothwell Castle, as soon as the sun arose, the Earl of Mar was carriedfrom his chamber, and laid on a couch in the state apartment. His ladyhad not yet left the room of his daughter, by whose side she had lainthe whole night in hopes of infecting her with the fears whichpossessed himself. 

Helen replied that she could see no reason for such direfulapprehension, if her father, instead of joining Wallace in person, would, when he had sent him succors, retire with his family into theHighlands, and there await the issue of the contest. "It is too lateto retreat, dear madam, " continued she; "the first blow against thepublic enemy was struck in defense of Lord Mar; and would you have myfather act so base a part, as to abandon his preserver to the wrathsuch generous assistance has provoked?"

"Alas, my child!" answered the countess, "what great service will hehave done to me or to your father, if he deliver him from one danger, only to plunge him into another? Edward's power in this country is toogreat to be resisted now. Have not most of our barons sworn fealty tohim? and are not the potent families of the Cummin, the Soulis, and theMarch, all in his interest? You may perhaps say, that most of theseare my relations, and that I may turn them which way I will; but if Ihave no influence with a husband, it would be madness to expect it overmore distant kindred. How, then, with such a host against him, canyour infatuated father venture, without despair, to support the man whobreaks the peace with England?"

"Who can despair, honored lady, " returned Helen, "in so just a cause?Let us rather believe with our good King David, that 'Honor must hopealways; for no real evil can befall the virtuous, either in this worldor in the next!' Were I a man, the justice that leads on the braveWallace would nerve my arm with the strength of a host. Besides, lookat our country; God's gift of freedom is stamped upon it. Ourmountains are his seal. Plains are the proper territories of tyranny;there the armies of a usurper may extend themselves with ease; leavingno corner unoccupied in which patriotism might shelter or treason hide. But mountains, glens, morasses, lakes, set bounds to conquest; andamidst these stands the impregnable seat of liberty. To such afortress, to the deep defiles of Loch Katrine, or to thecloud-curtained heights of Corryarraick, I would have my father retire. In safety he may there watch the footsteps of our mountain-goddess, till, led by her immortal champion, she plants her standard again uponthe hills of Scotland. "

The complexion of the animated Helen shone with a radiant glow. Herheart panted with a foretaste of the delight she would feel when allher generous wishes should be fulfilled; and pressing the now completedbanner to her breast, with an enthusiasm she believed prophetic, herlips moved, though her voice did not utter the inexpressible rapture ofher heart. 

Lady Mar looked at her. "It is well, romantic girl, that you are of myown powerless sex; had it been otherwise, your rash-headed disobediencemight have made me rue the day I became your father's wife. "

"Sex, " returned Helen, mildly, "could not have altered my sense ofduty. Whether man or woman, I would obey you in all things consistentwith my duty to a higher power; but when that commands, then by theordinance of Heaven, we must 'leave father and mother, and cleave untoit. '"

"And what, O foolish Helen, do you call a higher duty than that of achild to a parent, or a husband to his wife?"

"Duty of any kind, " respectfully answered the young daughter of Mar, "cannot be transgressed with innocence. Nor would it be anyrelinquishing of duty to you, should my father leave you to take uparms in the assertion of his country's rights. Her rights are yoursafety; and therefore, in defending them, a husband or a son best showshis sense of domestic, as well as of public duty. "

"Who taught you this sophistry, Helen? Not your heart, for it wouldstart at the idea of your father's blood. "

Helen turned pale. "Perhaps, madam, had not the preservation of myfather's blood occasioned such malignity from the English, that nothingbut an armed force can deliver his preserver, I, too, might be contentto see Scotland in slavery. But now, to wish my father to shrinkbehind the excuse of far-strained family duties, and to abandon SirWilliam Wallace to the blood hounds who hunt his life, would be todevote his name of Mar to infamy, and deservedly bring a curse upon hisoffspring. "

"Then it is to preserve Sir William Wallace you are thus anxious. Yourspirit of freedom is now disallowed, and all this mighty gathering isfor him. My husband, his vassals, your cousin, and, in short, thesequestration of the estates of Mar and Bothwell, are all to be put tothe hazard on account of a frantic outlaw, to whom, since the loss ofhis wife, I should suppose, death would be preferable to any gratitudewe can pay him. "

Lady Helen, at this ungrateful language, inwardly thanked Heaven thatshe inherited no part of the blood which animated so unfeeling a heart. "That he is an outlaw, Lady Mar, springs from us. That death is thepreferable comforter of his sorrows, also, he owes to us; for was itnot for my father's sake that his wife fell, and that he himself wasdriven into the wilds? I do not, then, blush for making hispreservation my first prayer; and that he may achieve the freedom ofScotland, is my second. "

"We shall see whose prayers will be answered first, " resumed Lady Mar, rising coldly from her seat. "My saints are perhaps nearer than yours, and before the close of this day you will have reason to repent suchextravagant opinions. I do not understand them. "

"Till now, you never disapproved them. "

"I allowed them in your infancy, " replied the countess, "because Ithought they went no further than a minstrel's song; but since they arebecome so dangerous, I rue the hour in which I complied with theentreaties of Sir Richard Maitland, and permitted you and your sisterto remain at Thirlestane, to imbibe these romantic ideas from thewizard of Ercildown. ** Had not Sir Richard been your own mother'sfather, I would not have been so easily prevailed on; and thus am Irewarded for my indulgence. "

**Few personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Ercildown, usually called the Rhymer. He was a poet and a sage, and believed byhis contemporaries to be a prophet. He was born at Ercildown, avillage on the Leeder (or Lauder), where the ruins of his paternalcastle, called Learmont Tower, still remain. -(1809. )

"I hope, honored madam, " said Helen, still wishing to soften thedispleasure of her step-mother, "I hope you will never be ill-rewardedfor that indulgence, either by my grandfather, my sister, or myself. Isabella, in the quiet of Thirlestane, has no chance of giving you theoffense that I do; and I am forced to offend you, because I cannotdisobey my conscience. " A tear stood in the eye of Lady Helen. "Cannot you, dear Lady Mar, " continued she, forcing a smile, "pardonthe daughter of your early friend, my mother, who loved you as asister? Cannot you forgive her Helen for revering justice even morethan your favor?"

More influenced by the sweet humility of her daughter-in-law than bythe ingenuous eloquence with which she maintained her sentiments, orwith the appeal to the memory of the first Lady Mar, the countessrelaxed the frigid air she had assumed, and kissing her, with manyrenewed injunctions to bless the hand that might put a final stop to soruinous an enthusiasm in her family, she quitted the room. 

As soon as Helen was alone, she forgot the narrow-minded arguments ofthe countess; and calling to recollection the generous permission withwhich her father had endowed her the night before, she wrapped herselfin her mantle, and, attended by her page, proceeded to the armory. Thearmorer was already there, having just given out arms for three hundredmen, who, by the earl's orders were to assemble by noon on BothwellMoor. 

Helen told the man she came for the best suit of armor in hiscustody-"one of the most excellent proof. "

He drew from an oaken chest a coat of black mail, studded with gold. Helen admired its strength and beauty. "It is the richest in allScotland, " answered he; "and was worn by our great Canmore in all hisvictories. "

"Then it is worthy its destination. Bring it, with its helmet andsword, to my apartment. "

The armorer took it up; and, accompanied by the page carrying thelighter parts, followed her into the western tower. 

When Helen was again alone, it being yet very early in the morning, sheemployed herself in pluming the casque, and forming the scarf she meantshould adorn her present. Thus time flew, till the sand-glass told herit was the eighth hour. But ere she had finished her task, she wasroused from the profound stillness in which that part of the castlelay, by the doleful lament of the troop returning from Ellerslie. 

She dropped the half-formed scarf from her hand; and listened, withoutdaring to draw her breath, to the deep-toned lamentations. She thoughtthat she had never before heard the dirge of her country so piercing, so thrillingly awful. Her head fell on the armor and scarf. "Sweetlady, " sighed she to herself, "who is it that dares thus invade thyduties? But my gratitude-gratitude to the once-loved lord, will notoffend thy pure spirit!" Again the mournful wailings rose on the air;and with a convulsion of feelings she could not restrain, she threwherself on her knees, and leaning her head on the newly-adorned helmet, wept profusely. 

Murray entered the room unobserved. "Helen! my dear cousin!" cried he. She started, and rising, apologized for her tears by owning the truth. He now told her, that the body of the deceased lady was deposited inthe chapel of the castle; and that the priests from the adjacent prioryonly awaited her presence to consign it, with the church's rites, toits tomb. 

Helen retired for a few minutes to recover herself; and thenre-entering, covered with a black veil, was led by her cousin to theawful scene. 

The bier lay before the altar. The prior of St. Fillan, in his holyvestments, stood at its head; a band of monks were ranged on each side. The maids of Lady Helen, in mourning garments, met their mistress atthe portal. They had wrapped the beautiful corpse in the shroudprepared for it; and now having laid it, strewed with flowers, upon thebier, they advanced to their trembling lady, expecting her to approvetheir services. Helen drew near-she bowed to the priests. One of thewomen put her hand on the pall, to uncover the once lovely face of themurdered Marion. Lady Helen hastily resisted the woman's motion, bylaying her hand also upon the pall. The chill of death struck throughthe velvet to her touch. She turned pale; and waving her hand to theprior to begin, the bier was lowered by the priests into the tombbeneath. As it descended, Helen sunk upon her knees, and the anthemfor departed souls was raised. The pealing notes, as they rose andswelled, seemed to bear up the spirit of the sainted Marion to itsnative heaven; and the tears which now flowed from the eyes of Helen, as they mingled with her pious aspirations, seemed the balm of paradisedescending upon her soul. 

When all was over, the venerable Halbert, who had concealed hisoverwhelming sorrow behind a pillar, threw himself on the cold stonewhich now closed the last chamber of his mistress. With faint cries, he gave way to the woe that shook his aged bosom, and called on deathto lay him low with her. The women of Lady Helen again chanted forththeir melancholy wailings for the dead; and unable longer to bear thescene, she grasped the arm of her cousin, and with difficulty walkedfrom the chapel. 

Chapter IX. 

Bothwell Dungeons. 

Having rewarded his trusty followers with their promised war-bonnetsfrom the hand of Helen, and dispatched them onward to the foot ofCartiane Craigs, to await his arrival with the larger levy. Murrayproceeded to the apartment of Lord Mar, to inform him how far he hadexecuted his commands, and to learn his future orders. HE found theveteran earl surrounded by arms and armed men; fifty brave Scots, whowere to lead the three hundred on Bothwell Moor, were receiving theirspears and swords, and other weapons, from the hands of their lord. 

"Bear these stoutly my gallant countrymen, " cried he, "and remember, that although the dragon** of England has burned up your harvests, andlaid our homes in ashes, there is yet a lion in Scotland to wither hispower, and glut you with his spoil!"

**The standard of Edward I, was a golden dragon-a very ancient Britishstandard, but derived from pagan times. -(1809. )

The interest of the scene, and the clatter of the arms he wasdispensing, prevented anybody present hearing any sound of what wastaking place beyond the room. But the earl had hardly uttered thesewords, when the double-doors of the apartment were abruptly opened, andall eyes were blasted by the sudden sight of Lord Soulis, ** and a manin splendid English armor, with a train of Southron soldiers, followingthe recreant Scot. 

**William Lord Soulis was a powerful chief in the south of Scotland. He founded pretensions to the Scottish crown, on his descent from anillegitimate daughter of Alexander II. Soulis was a traitor to hiscountry, and so notoriously wicked, that tradition endows him with thepower of infernal necromancy. His castle of Hermitage, in Teviotdale, is still shown as the resort of malignant demons. -(1809. )

The earl started from his couch. "Lord Soulis! what is the occasion ofthis unapprised visit?"

"The ensign of the liege lord of Scotland is my warrant!" replied he;"you are my prisoner; and in the name of King Edward of England, I takepossession of this castle. "

"Never!" cried the earl, "while there is a man's arm within it. "

"Man and woman, " returned Lord Soulis, "must surrender to Edward. Three thousand English have seized three hundred of our insurgents onBothwell Moor. The castle is surrounded, and resistance impossible. Throw down your arms!" cried he, turning to the clansmen, who throngedround their chief; "or be hanged for rebellion against your lawfulsovereign!"

"Our lawful sovereign!" returned a young man who stood near him, "mustbe the enemy of Edward; and to none else will we yield our arms!"

"Traitor!" cried the English commander, while with a sudden anddreadful stroke of his battle-ax he laid the body of the generous Scota headless corpse at his feet. A direful cry proceeded from hisenraged comrades. Every sword was drawn; and before the bewildered andsoul-struck earl could utter a word, the Furies blew their mosthorrible blast through the chamber; and the half-frantic Mar beheld hisbrave Scots at one moment victorious, and in the next the floor strewedwith their dead bodies. A new succession of blood-hounds had rushed inat every door; and before the exterminating sword was allowed to rest, the whole of his faithful troops lay around him, wounded and dying. Several had fallen across his body, having warded with their lives thestrokes they believed leveled at his. In vain his voice had calledupon his men to surrender-in vain he had implored the iron-heartedSoulis, and his coadjutor Aymer de Valence, to stop the havoc of death. 

All now lay in blood; and the heat of the room, thronged by thevictors, became so intolerable that De Valence, for his own sake, ordered the earl to be removed into another apartment. 

Meanwhile, unconscious of these events, Helen had lain down on her bed, to seek a few minutes' repose; and having watched the whole of thepreceding night, was sunk into a profound sleep. 

Murray, who was present at the abrupt entrance of the enemy, no soonerheard them declare that the castle was surrounded by a comparativelylarge army, than he foresaw all would be lost. On the instant, andbefore the dreadful signal of carnage was given in the fall of theyoung Scot, he slid behind the canopy of his uncle's couch; and liftingthe arras by a back door which led to some private rooms, hastily madeway to the chamber of his cousin. As he hurried along, he heard afearful shout. He paused for a moment, but thinking it best, whatevermight have happened, to secure the safety of Helen, he flew onward, andentered her room. She lay upon the bed in a deep sleep. "Awake, Helen!" he cried; "for your life, awake!"

She opened her eyes; but, without allowing her time to speak, hehastily added; "The castle is full of armed men, led hither by theEnglish commander, Aymer de Valence, and the execrable Soulis. Unlessyou fly through the vaulted passage, you will be their prisoner. "

Helen gazed at him in terror. "Where is my father? Leave him Icannot. "

"Fly, in pity to your father! Oh, do not hesitate! What will be hisanguish, should you fall into the hands of the furious man whose loveyou have rejected; when it will no longer be in the power of a parentto preserve your person from the outrages of his eager and avengefulpassion! If you had seen Soulis' threatening eyes--" He wasinterrupted by a clamor in the opposite gallery, and the shrieks ofwomen. Helen grasped his arm. "Alas, my poor damsels! I will go withyou, whither you will, to be far from him. "

As Murray threw his arm about her waist, to impel her failing steps, his eyes fell on the banner and the suit of armor. 

"All else must be left, " exclaimed he, seizing the banner; and hurryingHelen forward, he hastened with her down the stairs which led from thewestern watch-tower to the vaults beneath the castle. On entering thefirst cellar, to which a dim light was admitted through a small gratingnear the top, he looked round for the archway that contained the avenueof their release. Having descried it, and raised one of the largeflags which paved the floor, he assisted his affrighted cousin down ashort flight of steps, into the secret passage. "This, " whispered he, "will carry us in a direct line to the cell of the prior of St. Fillan. "

"But what will become of my father, and Lady Mar? This flight, whilethey are in danger! oh! I fear to complete it!"

"Rather fear the libertine Soulis, " returned Murray, "he can only makethem prisoners; and even that injury shall be of short duration. Iwill soon join the brave Wallace; and then, my sweet cousin, liberty, and a happy meeting!"

"Alas! his venerable harper, " cried she, suddenly remembering Halbert;"should he be discovered to have belonged to Wallace, he, too, will bemassacred by these merciless men. "

Murray stopped. "Have you courage to remain in this darkness alone?If so, I will seek him, and he shall accompany us. "

Helen had courage for anything but the dangers Murray might encounterby returning into the castle; but the generous youth had entered toofully into her apprehensions concerning the old man to be withheld. "Should I be delayed in coming back, " said he, recollecting thepossibility of himself being attacked and slain, "go forward to the endof this passage; it will lead you to a flight of stairs; ascend them;and by drawing the bolt of a door, you will find yourself at once inthe prior's cell. "

"Talk not of delay, " replied Helen; "return quickly, and I will awaityou at the entrance of the passage. " So saying, she swiftly retracedwith him her steps to the bottom of the stone stairs by which they haddescended. He raised the flag, sprung out of the aperture, and closingit down, left her in solitude and darkness. 

Murray passed through the first cellar, and was proceeding to thesecond (among the catacombs of which lay the concealed entrance to theprivate stairs), when he saw the great gates of the cellar open, and alarge party of English soldiers enter. They were conducted by thebutler of the castle, who seemed to perform his office unwillingly, while they crowded in, thirsty and riotous. 

Aware how unequal his single arm would be to contend with such numbers, Murray, at the first glance of these plunderers, retreated behind aheap of casks in a remote corner. While the trembling butler wasloading a dozen of the men with flasks for the refreshment of theirmasters above, the rest were helping themselves from the adjacentcatacombs. Some left the cellars with their booty, and others remainedto drink it on the spot. Glad to escape the insults of the soldierswho lay wallowing in the wine, Bothwell's old servant quitted thecellar with the last company which bore flagons to their comrades above. 

Murray listened anxiously, in hopes of hearing from his garrulousneighbors some intimation of the fate of his uncle and aunt. Hehearkened in vain, for nothing was uttered by these intoxicatedbanditti, but loud boastings of the number each had slain in the earl'sapartment; execrations against the Scots for their obstinateresistance; and a thousand sanguinary wishes, that the nation had butone neck, to strike off at a blow. 

How often, during this conversation, was Murray tempted to rush outamongst them, and seize a desperate revenge! But the thought of hispoor cousin, now awaiting his return, and perhaps already sufferingdreadful alarms from such extraordinary uproar, restrained him; andunable to move from his hiding-place without precipitating himself intoinstant death, he remained nearly an hour in the most painful anxiety, watching the dropping to sleep of this horrid crew, one by one. 

When all seemed hushed-not a voice, even in a whisper, startling hisear-he ventured forth with a stealing step toward the slumbering group. Like his brave ancestor, Gaul, the son of Morni, "he disdained to staba sleeping foe!" He must pass them to reach the private stairs. Hepaused and listened. Silence still reigned; not even a hand moved, sodeeply were they sunk in the fumes of wine. He took courage, and flewwith the lightness of air to the secret door. As he laid his hand onit, it opened from without, and two persons appeared. By the few rayswhich gleamed from the expiring torches of the sleepers, he could seethat the first wore English armor. Murray made a spring, and caughtthe man by the throat; when some one seizing his arm, exclaimed, "Stop, my Lord Murray! it is the faithful Grimsby. " Murray let go his hold, glad to find that both his English friend and the venerable object ofhis solicitude were thus providentially brought to meet him; butfearing that the violence of his action, and Halbert's exclamation, might have alarmed the sleeping soldiers (who, drunk as they were, weretoo numerous to be resisted), he laid his finger on the tip of Grimsby, and motioned to the astonished pair to follow him. 

As they advanced, they perceived one of the soldiers move as ifdisturbed. Murray held his sword over the sleeping wretch, ready toplunge it into his heart should he attempt to rise; but he became stillagain; and the fugitive having approached the flag, Murray drew it up, and eager to haven his double charge, he thrust them together down thestairs. At that moment, a shriek from Helen (who had discovered, by agleam of light which burst into the vault, a man descending in Englisharmor), echoed through the cellars. Two of the soldiers jumped upontheir feet, and rushed upon Murray. He had let the flag drop behindhim; but still remaining by it, in case of an opportunity to escape, hereceived the strokes of their weapons upon his target, and returnedthem with equal rapidity. One assailant lay gasping at his feet. Butthe clashing of arms, and the cries of the survivor had alreadyawakened the whole crew. With horrid menaces, they threw themselvestoward the young Scot, and would certainly have cut him to pieces, hadhe not snatched the only remaining torch out of the hand of thestaggering soldier, and extinguished it under his foot. Bewilderedwhere to find their prey, with threats and imprecations, they groped indarkness, slashing the air with their swords, and not unfrequentlywounding each other in the vain search. 

Murray was now far from their pursuit. He had no sooner put out thelight, than he pulled up the flag, and leaping down, drew it after him, and found himself in safety. Desperate as was the contest, it had beenshort; for he yet heard the footsteps of the panic-struck Helen, flyingalong the passage. The Englishman and Halbert, on the first falling ofthe flag, not knowing its spring, had unsuccessfully tried to re-raiseit, that they might assist Murray in the tumult above. On hisappearing again so unexpectedly, they declared their joy; but the younglord, impatient to calm the apprehensions of his cousin, returned noother answer than "Follow me!" while he darted forward. Terror hadgiven her wings, and even prevented her hearing the low sounds ofMurray's voice, which he durst not raise to a higher pitch, for fear ofbeing overheard by the enemy. Thus, while she lost all presence ofmind, he did not come up with her till she fell breathless against hestairs at the extremity of the vault. 

Chapter X. 

St. Fillan's. 

As soon as Murray found her within his arms, he clasped her insensibleform to his breast, and carrying her up the steps, drew the bolt of thedoor. It opened to his pressure, and discovered a large monastic cell, into which the daylight shone through one long narrow window. A strawpallet, an altar, and a marble basin, were the furniture. The cell wassolitary the owner being then at mass in the chapel of the monastery. Murray laid down his death-like burden on the monk's bed. He thenventured (believing, as it was to restore so pure a being to life, itcould not be sacrilege) to throw some of the holy water upon hiscousin's face; and by means of a little chalice, which stood upon thealtar, he poured some into her mouth. At last opening her eyes, sherecognized the figure of her young kinsman leaning over her. Thealmost paralyzed Halbert stood at her feet. "Blessed Virgin! am I yetsafe, and with my dear Andrew! Oh! I feared you were slain!" criedshe, bursting into tears. 

"Thank God, we are both safe, " answered he; "comfort yourself, mybeloved cousin! you are now on holy ground; this is the cell of theprior of St. Fillan. None but the hand of an infidel dare wrest youfrom this sanctuary. "

"But my father, and Lady Mar?" And again her tears flowed. 

"The countess, my gracious lady, " answered Halbert, "since you couldnot be found in the castle, is allowed to accompany your father toDumbarton Castle, there to be treated with every respect, until DeValence receives further orders from King Edward. "

"But for Wallace!" cried she, "ah, where are now the succors that wereto be sent to him! And without succors, how can he, or you, dearestAndrew, rescue my father from this tyranny!"

"Do not despair, " replied Murray; "look but at the banner you heldfast, even while insensible; your own hands have engraven my answer-Godarmeth the patriot! Convinced of that, can you still fear for youfather? I will join Wallace to-morrow. Your own fifty warriors awaitme at the bottom of Cartlane Craigs; and if any treachery should bemeditated against my uncle, that moment we will make the towers ofDumbarton shake to their foundation. "

Helen's reply was a deep sigh: she though it might be Heaven's willthat her father, like the good Lord Douglas, should fall a victim toroyal revenge; and so sad were her forebodings, that she hardly daredto hope what the sanguine disposition of her cousin promised. Grimsbynow came forward; and unloosing an iron box from under his arm, put itinto the hands of Lord Murray. 

"This fatal treasure, " said he, "was committed to my care by the earl, your uncle, to deliver to the prior of St. Fillan's. "

"What does it contain?" demanded Murray; "I never saw it before. "

"I know not its contents, " returned the soldier; "it belongs to SirWilliam Wallace. "

"Indeed!" ejaculated Helen. "If it be treasure, why was it not rathersent to him!"

"But how, honest soldier, " asked Murray, "did you escape with it, andHalbert, too! I am at a loss to conjecture, but by miracle. "

He replied, that as soon as the English, and their Scottish partisansunder Lord Soulis, had surprised the castle, he saw that his onlychance of safety was to throw off the bonnet and plaid, and mix amongstthe numerous soldiers who had taken possession of the gates. Hisarmor, and his language, showed he was their countryman; and theyeasily believed that he had joined the plunderers as a volunteer fromthe army, which at a greater distance beleaguered the castle. Thestory of his desertion from the Lanark garrison had not yet reachedthose of Glasgow and Dumbarton; and one or two men, who had known himin former expeditions, readily reported that he had been drafted intothe present one. Their recognition warranted his truth; and he had nodifficulty, after the carnage in the state apartment, to make his wayto the bed-chamber where Lord Aymer de Valence had ordered Lord Mar tobe carried. He found the earl alone, and lost in grief. He knew notbut that his nephew, and even his daughter and wife, had fallen beneaththe impetuous swords of the enemy. Astonished at seeing the soldierwalking at large, he expressed his surprise with some suspicions. ButGrimsby told him the strategem he had used, and assured him Lord Andrewhad not been seen since the onset. This information inspired the earlwith a hope that his nephew might have escaped: and when the soldieralso said, that he had seen the countess led by Lord Soulis across thehall toward the Lady Helen's apartments, while he overheard himpromising them every respect, the earl seemed comforted. "But how, "inquired he of Grimsby, "has this hard fate befallen us? Have youlearned how De Valence knew that I meant to take up arms for mycountry?"

When the soldier was relating this part of the conference, Murrayinterrupted him with the same demand. 

"On that head I cannot fully satisfy you, " replied he; "I could onlygather from the soldiers that a sealed packet had been delivered to LorAymer de Valence late last night at Dumbarton Castle. Soulis was thenthere; and he immediately set off to Glasgow, for the followers he hadleft in that town. Early this morning he joined De Valence and hislegions on Bothwell Moor. The consequences there you know. But theydo not end at Bothwell. The gallant Wallace-"

At that name, so mentioned, the heart of Helen grew cold. 

"What of him?" exclaimed Murray. 

"No personal harm yet happened to Sir William Wallace, " repliedGrimsby; "but at the same moment in which De Valence gave orders forhis troops to march on Bothwell, he sent others to intercept thatpersecuted knight's escape from the Cartlane Craigs. "

"That accursed sealed packet, " cried Murray, "has been the traitor!Some villian in Bothwell Castle must have written it. Whence elsecould have come the double information? And if so, " added he, withtremendous emphasis, "may the blast of slavery ever pursue him and hisposterity!"

Helen shuddered, as the amen to this frightful malediction was echoedby the voices of Halbert and the soldier. The latter continued:

"When I informed Lord Mar of these measures against Wallace, heexpressed a hope that your first detachment to his assistance might, with yourself, perhaps, at its head, elude their vigilance, and joinhis friend. This discourse reminded him of the iron box. 'It is inthat closet, ' said his lordship, pointing to an opposite door; you willfind it beneath the little altar, before which I pay my daily duties tothe allwise Dispenser of the fates of men; else where would be myconfidence now? Take it thence, and buckle it to your side. "

"I obeyed, and he then proceeded: 'There are two passages in this housewhich lead to the sanctuary. The one nearest to us is the safest foryou. A staircase from the closet you have just left will lead youdirectly into the chapel. When there hasten to the image of theVirgin, and slip aside the marble tablet on the back of the pedestal:it will admit you to a flight of steps; descend them, and at the bottomyou will find a door, that will convey you into a range of cellars. Lift up the largest flag-stone in the second, and you will be conductedthrough a dark vault to an iron door; draw the bolt, and remain in thecell it will open to you till the owner enters. He is the prior of St. Fillan's and a Murray. Give him this golden cross, which he wellknows, as a mark you come from me; and say it is my request that heassist you to gain the sea-shore. As for the iron box, tell him topreserve it as he would his life; and never to give it up, but tomyself, my children, or to Sir William Wallace, it's rightful master. '"

"Alas!" cried Halbert, "that he had never been its owner! that he hadnever brought it to Ellerslie, to draw down misery on his head!Ill-omened trust! whatever it contains, its presence carried blood andsorrow in its train. Wherever it has been deposited war and murderhave followed: I trust my dear master will never see it more!"

"He may indeed never see it more!" murmured Helen, in a low voice. "Where are now my proud anticipations of freedom to Scotland? Alas, Andrew, " said she, taking his hand, and weeping over it. "I have beentoo presumptuous; my father is a prisoner, and Sir William Wallace islost!"

"Cease, my dear Helen, " cried he, "cease to distress yourself! Theseare merely the vicissitudes of the great contention we are engaged in. We must expect occasional disappointments, or look for miracles everyday. Such disasters are sent as lessons to teach us precaution, proptitude and patience-these are the soldier's graces, my sweetcousin, and depend on it, I will pay them due obedience. "

"But why, " asked Helen, taking comfort from the unsubdued spirits ofher cousin, "why, my good soldier, did not my dear father takeadvantage of this sanctuary?"

"I urged the earl to accompany me, " returned Grimsby; "but he said sucha proceeding would leave his wife and babes in unprotected captivity. 'No, ' added he, 'I will await my fate; for the God of those who trustin him knows that I do not fear!'

"Having received such peremptory orders from the earl, I took my leave;and entering the chapel by the way he directed, was agreeably surprisedto find the worthy Halbert, whom, never having seen since the funeralobsequies, I supposed had fallen during the carnage in thestate-chamber. He was still kneeling by the tomb of his buriedmistress. I did not take long to warn him of his danger, and desiredhim to follow me. We descended together beneath the holy statue, andwere just emerging into the cellars when you, sir, met us at theentrance. 

"It was while we were yet in the chapel that I heard De Valence andSoulis at high words in the courtyard. The former, in a loud voice, gave orders that, as Lady Helen Mar could nowhere be found, the earland countess, with their two infant children, should not be separated, but be conveyed as his prisoners to Dumbarton Castle. "

"That is a comfort, " cried Helen; "my father will then be consoled bythe presence of his wife. "

"But very different would have been the case, madam, had you appeared, "rejoined the soldier. "One of Lord de Valence's men told me, that LordSoulis intended to have taken you and the countess to Dunglass Castle, near Glasgow, while the sick earl was to have been carried alone toDumbarton, and detained in solitary confinement. Lord Soulis was in sodreadful a rage, when you could not be found, that he accused theEnglish commander of having leagued with Lady Mar to deceived him. Inthe midst of this contention we descended into the vaults. "

Helen shuddered at the thought of how near she was to falling into thehands of so fierce a spirit. In his character, he united every qualitywhich could render power formidable; combining prodigious bodilystrength with cruelty, dissimulation, and treachery. He was feared bythe common people as a sorcerer; and avoided by the virtuous of his ownrank, as an enemy to all public law, and the violator of every privatetie. Helen Mar had twice refused his hand: first, during the contestfor the kingdom, when his pretended claim to the crown was disallowed. She was then a mere child, hardly more than fourteen; but she rejectedhim with abhorrence. Though stung to the quick at being denied theobjects both of his love and ambition at the same moment, he did nothesitate at another period to renew his offer to her. At the fall ofDunbar, when he again founded his uprise on the ruins of his country, as soon as he had repeated his oaths of fidelity to Edward, he hastenedto Thirlestane, to throw himself a second time at the feet of LadyHelen. Her ripened judgment confirmed her youthful dislike of hisruffian qualities, and again he was rejected. 

"By the powers of hell, " exclaimed he, when the project of surprisingBothwell was imparted to him, "if I once get that proud minion into mygrasp, she shall be mine as I will, and learn to beg for even a lookfrom the man who has humbled her!"

Helen knew not half the afflictions with which his resentful heart hadmeditated to subdue and torture her; and therefore, though she shrunkat the sound of a name so generally infamous, yet, not aware of all theevils she had escaped, she replied with languor, though with gratitude, to the almost rapturous congratulations of her cousin on her timelyflight. 

At this period the door of the cell opened, and the prior entered fromthe cloisters-he started on seeing his room filled with strangers. Murray took off his helmet, and approached him. On recognizing the sonof his patron, the prior inquired his commands; and expressed somesurprise that such a company, and above all, a lady, could have passedthe convent-gate without his previous notice. 

Murray pointed to the recess behind the altar; and then explained tothe good priest the necessity which had compelled them to thus seek theprotection of St. Fillan. "Lady Helen, " continued he, "must share yourcare until Heaven empowers the Earl of Mar to reclaim his daughter, andadequately reward this holy church. "

The soldier then presented the cross, with the iron box; repeating themessage that confided them also to his keeping. 

The prior listened to these recitals with sorrowful attention. He hadnot heard the noise of armed men advancing to the castle; but knowingthat the earl was making warlike preparations, he had no suspicion thatthese were other than the Bothwell soldiers. He took the box, andlaying it on the altar, pressed the cross to his lips. "The Earl ofMar shall find that fidelity here which his faith in the church merits. That mysterious chest, to which you tell me so terrible a denunciationis annexed, shall be preserved sacred as the relics of St. Fillan. "

Halbert groaned heavily at these words, but he did not speak. Thefather looked at him attentively, and then proceeded: "But for you, virtuous Southron, I will give you a pilgrim's habit. Travel in thatprivileged garb to Montrose; and there a brother of the church, theprior of Aberbrothick, will, by a letter from me, convey you in avessel to Normandy; thence you may safely find your way to Guienne. "

The soldier bowed his head; and the priest, turning to Lady Helen, toldher that a cell should be appointed for her, and some pious womanbrought from the adjoining hamlet to pay her due attendance. 

"As for this venerable man, " continued he, "his silver hairs alreadyproclaim him near his heavenly country! He had best put on the cowl ofthe holy brotherhood, and, in the arms of religion, repose securely, till he passes through the sleep of death to wake in everlasting life!"

Tears started into the eyes of Halbert. "I thank you, reverend father;I have indeed drawn near the end of my pilgrimage-too old to serve mydear master in fields of blood and hardship, I will at least devote mylast hours to uniting my prayers with his, and all good souls, for therepose of his sainted lady. I accept your invitation thankfully; and, considering it a call from Heaven to give me rest, I welcome the daythat marks the poor harper of Ellerslie with the sacred tonsure. "

The sound of approaching trumpets, and, soon after, the clattering ofhorses and the clang of armor, made an instantaneous silence in thecell. Helen looked fearfully at her cousin, and grasped his hand;Murray clasped his sword with a firmer hold. "I will protect you withmy life. " He spoke in a low tone, but he soldier heard him: "There isno cause of alarm, " rejoined he; "Lord de Valence is only marching byon his way to Dumbarton. "

"Alas, my poor father!" cried Helen, covering her face with her hands. 

The venerable prior, pitying her affliction, knelt down by her. "Mydaughter, be comforted, " said he; "they dare not commit any violence onthe earl. King Edward too well understands his own interest to alloweven a long imprisonment to so popular a nobleman. " This assurance, assisted by the consolations of a firm trust in God, caused her toraise her head with a meek smile. He continued to speak of theimpregnable hopes of the Christian who founds his confidence onOmnipotence; and while his words spread a serenity through her soul, that seemed the ministration of a descended saint, she closed her handsover her breast, and silently invoked the protection of the AlmightyJehovah for her suffering parent. 

The prior, seeing her composed, recommended leaving her to rest. AndHelen, comforted by holy meditations, allowing her cousin to depart, heled Murray and his companions into the convent library. 

Chapter XI. 

The Chapter House. 

The march of De Valence from the castle having proved that no suspicionof any of its late inhabitants being still in the neighborhood remainedwith its usurpers, Grimsby thought he might depart in safety; and nextmorning he begged permission of the prior to commence his journey. "Iam anxious to quit a land, " said he, "where my countrymen arecommitting violences which make me blush at the name of Englishman. "

Murray put a purse of gold into the soldier's hand, while the priorcovered his armor with a pilgrim's gown. Grimsby, with a respectfulbow, returned the gift; "I cannot take money from you, my lord. Butbestow on me the sword at your side, and that I will preserve forever. "

Murray took it off, and gave it to the soldier. "Let us exchange, mybrave friend!" said he; "give me yours, and it shall be a memorial tome of having found virtue in an Englishman. "

Grimsby unlocked his rude weapon in a moment, and as he put the ironhilt into the young Scot's hand, a tear stood in his eye: "When youraise this sword against my countrymen, think on Grimsby, a faithful, though humble soldier of the cross, and spare the blood of all who askfor mercy. "

Murray looked a gracious assent, for the tear of mercy was infectious. Without speaking, he gave the good soldier's hand a parting grasp; andwith regret that superior claims called so brave a man from his side, he saw him leave the monastery. 

The mourner banquets on memory; making that which seems the poison oflife, its ailment. During the hours of regret we recall the images ofdeparted joys; and in weeping over each tender remembrance, tears sosoftly shed embalm the wounds of grief. To be denied the privilege ofpouring forth our love and our lamentations over the grave of one whoin life was our happiness, is to shut up the soul of the survivor in asolitary tomb, where the bereaved heart pines in secret till it breakswith the fullness of uncommunicated sorrow; but listen to the mourner, give his feelings way, and, like the river rolling from the hills intothe valley, they will flow with a gradually gentler stream, till theybecome lost in time's wide ocean. 

So Murray judged when the poor old harper, finding himself alone withhim, again gave loose to his often-recapitulated griefs. He wept likean infant; and recounting the afflictions of his master, whilebewailing the disasters at Bothwell, implored Murray to go withoutdelay to support the now almost friendless Wallace. Murray wasconsoling him with the assurance that he would set off for themountains that very evening, when the prior returned to conduct Halbertto a cell appointed for his novitiate. The good priest had placed oneof his most pious fathers there, to administer both temporal andspiritual cordials to the aged sufferer. 

The sorrowing domestic of Wallace being thus disposed of, the prior andMurray remained together, consulting on the safest means of passing tothe Cartlane hills. A lay brother whom the prior had sent in pursuitof Helen's fifty warriors, to apprise them of the English being in thecraigs, at this juncture entered the library. He informed the fatherthat, secure in his religious garb, he had penetrated many of theCartlane defiles, but could neither see nor hear anything of the party. Every glen or height was occupied by the English: and from a woman, ofwhom he begged a draught of milk, he had learned how closely themountains were invested. The English commander, in his zeal to preventprovisions being conveyed to Wallace and his famishing garrison, hadstopped a procession of monks bearing a dead body to the sepulchralcave of St. Columba. He would not allow them to ascend the heightsuntil he had examined whether the bier really bore a corpse, or was avehicle to carry food to the beleaguered Scots. 

In the midst of this information, the prior and his friends werestartled by a shout, and soon after a tumult of voices, in which mightbe distinguished the cry of "A gallows for the traitor!"

"Our brave Englishman has fallen into their hands, " cried Murray, hastening toward the door. 

"What would you do?" interrupted the prior, holding him. "Your singlearm could not save the soldier. The cross has more power; I will seekthese violent men. Meanwhile stay here, as you value the lives of allin the convent. "

Murray had now recollected himself, and acquiesced. The prior took thecrucifix from the altar, and ordering the porter to throw open thegreat doors (near which the incessant shouting seemed to proceed), heappeared before a turbulent band of soldiers, who were dragging a manalong, fast bound with their leathern belts. Blood trickling from hisface fell on the hands of the ruthless wretches, who, with horridyells, were threatening him with instant death. 

The prior, raising the cross, rushed in among them, and, in the name ofthe blessed Son who died on that tree, bade them stand! The soldierstrembled before the holy majesty of his figure, and at his awfuladjuration. The prior looked on the prisoner, but he did not see thedark locks of the Englishman; it was the yellow hair of Scotland thatmingled with the blood on his forehead. 

"Whither do you hurry that wounded man?"

"To his death, " answered a surly fellow. 

"What is his offense?"

"He is a traitor. "

"How has he proved it?"

"He is a Scot, and he belongs to the disloyal Lord of Mar. This bugle, with its crowned falcon, proves it, " added the Southron, holding up thevery bugle which the earl had sent by Halbert to Wallace, and which wasornamented with the crest of Mar wrought in gold. 

"That this has been Lord Mar's, " replied the prior, "there is no doubt;but may not this man have found it? Or may it not have been given tohim by the earl, before that chief incurred the displeasure of KingEdward? Which of you would think it just to be made to die becauseyour friend was condemned to the scaffold? Unless you substantiateyour charge against this man, by a better proof than this bugle, hisdeath would be a murder, which the Lord of life will requite in theperdition of your souls. " As the father spoke, he again elevated thecross: the men turned pale. 

"I am a minister of Christ, " continued he, "and must be the friend ofjustice. Release, therefore, that wounded man to me. Before the altarof the Searcher of all hearts he shall confess himself; and if I findthat he is guilty unto death, I promise you by the holy St. Fillan, torelease him to your commanding officer, and so let justice take itscourse. But if he proves innocent, I am the soldier of Christ, and nomonarch on earth shall wrest his children from the protection of thechurch. "

While he spoke, the men who held the prisoner let go their hold, andthe prior stretching out his hand, gave him to a party of monks toconduct into the convent. Then, to convince the soldiers that it wasthe man's life he sought to save, and not the spoil, he returned thegolden bugle, and bade him depart in peace. 

Awed by the father's address, and satisfied with the money and arms ofwhich they had rifled the stranger, the marauders retreated;determining, indeed, to say nothing of the matter to the officer in thecastle, lest he should demand the horn; and, elated with the presentbooty, they marched off to pursue their plundering excursion. Burstinginto yeomen's houses and peasants' huts, stripping all of theirsubstance who did or did not swear fealty to Edward; thus robbing thelatter, and exacting contributions from the former; while vain prayersfor mercy and unanswered cries for redress echoed dolefully through thevale of Bothwell, they sped gayly on, as if murder were pastime andrapine honor. 

The prior, on returning into the convent, ordered the gates to bebolted. When he entered the chapter-house, finding the monks hadalready bound up the wounds of the stranger, he made a sign for thebrethren to withdraw: and then, approaching the young man, "My son, "said he, in a mild tone, "you heard my declaration to the men from whomI took you! Answer me the truth and you shall find that virtue orrepentance have alike a refuge in the arms of the church. As I am itsservant, no man need fear to confide in me. Speak with candor! Howcame you by that bugle?"

The stranger looked steadfastly on his questioner; "A minister of theall righteous God cannot mean to deceive. You have saved my life, andI should be less than man could I doubt the evidence of that deed. Ireceived that bugle from a brave Scot who dwells amongst the easternmountains; and who gave it to me to assure the Earl of Mar that I camefrom him. "

The prior apprehended that it was of Wallace he spoke. "You come torequest a military aid from the Earl of Mar!" rejoined the father, willing to sound him, before he committed Murray, by calling him to theconference. 

The stranger replied: "If, reverend sir, you are in the confidence ofthe good earl, pronounce but the Christian name of the man who chargedme with the bugle, and allow me, then, for his sake, to ask you whathas indeed happened to the earl! that I was seized by foes, when Iexpected to meet with friends only! Reply to this, and I shall speakfreely; but at present, though I would confide all of myself to yoursacred character, yet the confidence of others is not mine to bestow. "

The prior, being convinced by this caution, that he was indeed speakingwith some messenger from Wallace, made no hesitation to answer. "Yourmaster is a knight, and a braver never drew breath since the time ofhis royal namesake, William the Lion!"

The man rose hastily from his seat, and falling on his knees before theprior, put his garment to his lips: "Father, I now know that I am witha friend of my persecuted master! But if, indeed, the situation ofLord Mar precludes assistance from him, all hope is lost! The nobleWallace is penned within the hills, without any hopes of escape. Suffer me, then, thou venerable saint! to rejoin him immediately, thatI may at least die with my friend!"

"Hope for a better destiny, " returned the prior; "I am a servant, andnot to be worshiped; turn to that altar, and kneel to Him who can alonesend the succor you need!"

The good man, thinking it was now time to call the young lord ofBothwell, by a side-door from the chapter-house entered the library, where Murray was anxiously awaiting his return. On his entrance, theimpatient youth eagerly exclaimed, "Have you rescued him?"

"Grimsby, I hope, is far and safely on his journey, " answered the goodpriest; "but the man those murderers were dragging to death, is in thechapter-house. Follow me, and he will give you news of Wallace. "

Murray gladly obeyed. 

At sight of a Scottish knight in armor, the messenger of Wallacethought his prayers were answered, and that he saw before him theleader of the host which was to march to the preservation of his bravecommander. Murray told him who he was; and learned from him in return, that Wallace now considered himself in a state of siege; that thewomen, children, and old men with him, had nothing to feed on but wildstrawberries and birds' eggs, which they found in the hollows of therocks. "To relieve them from such hard quarters, girded by a barrierof English soldiers, " continued the narrator, "is his first wish: butthat cannot be effected by our small number. However, he would makethe attempt by a strategem, could we be at all supported by succorsfrom the Earl of Mar!"

"My uncle's means, " replied Murray, "are for a time cut off: but mineshall be exerted to the utmost. Did you not meet, somewhere, a companyof Scots to the number of fifty? I sent them off yesterday to seekyour noble chief. "

"No, " rejoined the young man; "I fear they have been taken by theenemy; for in my way to Sir William Wallace, not knowing the Englishwere so close to his sanctuary, I was nearly seized myself. I had notthe good fortune to be with him, when he struck the first blow forScotland in the citadel of Lanark; but as soon as I heard the tale ofhis wrongs, and that he had retired in arms toward the Cartlane Craigs, I determined to follow his fate. We had been companions in our boyishdays, and friends after. He saved my life once, in swimming; and nowthat a formidable nation menaces his, I seek to repay the debt. Forthis purpose, a few nights ago I left my guardian's house by stealth, and sought my way to my friend. I found the banks of the Mouseoccupied by the English; but exploring the most intricate passes, atlast gained the bottom of the precipice on the top of which Wallace isencamped; and as I lay among the bushes, watching an opportunity toascend, I perceived two English soldiers near me. They were indiscourse, and I overheard them say, that besides Heselrigge himself, nearly two hundred of his garrison had fallen by the hand of Wallace'smen in the contention at the castle; that the tidings were sent to SirRichard Arnulf, the Deputy-governor of Ayr; and he had dispatched athousand men to surround the Cartland Craigs, spies having given noticethat they were Sir William's strongholds, and the orders were, that hemust be taken dead or alive; while all his adherents, men and women, should receive no quarter. 

"Such was the information I brought to my gallant friend, when in thedead of night I mounted the rock, and calling to the Scottish sentinelin Gaelic, gave him my name, and was allowed to enter the sacred spot. Wallace welcomed his faithful Ker, ** and soon unfolded his distress andhis hopes. He told me of the famine that threatened his littlegarrison; of the constant watching, day and night, necessary to preventa surprise. But in his extremity, he observed that one defile wasthinly guarded by the enemy; probably because, as it lay at the bottomof a perpendicular angle of the rock, they thought it unattainable bythe Scots. To this point, however, my dauntless friend turns his eyes. He would attempt it, could he procure a sufficient number of fresh mento cover the retreat of his exhausted few. For this purpose, as I hadso lately explored the most hidden paths of the craigs, I volunteeredto visit the Lord Mar, and to conduct, in safety, any succors he mightsend to our persecuted leader. "

**The stem of this brave name, in subsequent times, became two greatbranches, the Roxburghe and the Lothian. 

"This, " continued Ker, "was the errand on which I came to the earl. Think then my horror, when in my journey I found redoubled legionshemming in the hills; and on advancing toward Bothwell Castle, wasseized with that nobleman, who, they said, was condemned to lose hishead!"

'Not so bad as that, my brave Ker, " cried Murray, a glow of indignationflushing his cheek; "many a bull's head** shall frown in this land, onthe Southron tables, before my uncle's neck gluts their axes! No trueScottish blood, I trust, will ever stain their scaffolds; for while wehave arms to wield a sword, he must be a fool that grounds them on anyother terms than freedom or death. We have cast our lives on the die;and Wallace's camp or the narrow house must be our prize!"

**A bull's head, presented at a feast, was a sign that some one of thecompany was immediately to be put to death. -(1809. )

"Noble youth!" exclaimed the prior, "may the innocence which givesanimation to your courage, continue its moving soul! They only areinvincible who are as ready to die as to live; and no one can be firmin that principle, whose exemplary life is not a happy preparation forthe awful change. "

Murray bowed modestly to this pious encomium, and turning to Ker, informed him, that since he must abandon all hope of hearing any moreof the fifty brave men his cousin Helen had sent to the craigs, hebethought him of applying to his uncle, Sir John Murray, who dwelt hardby, on his estate at Drumshargard. "It is small, " said he, "and cannotafford many men; but still he may spare sufficient to effect the escapeof our commander; and that for the present will be a host!"

To accomplish his design without delay-for promptitude is the earnestof success-and to avoid a surprise from the English lieutenant atBothwell (who, hearing of the reencounter before the castle, mightchoose to demand his men's prisoner). Murray determined to take Kerwith him; and, disguised as peasants, as soon as darkness should shroudtheir movements, proceed to Drumshargard. 

Chapter XII. 

Drumshargard. 

While these transactions occupied the morning, Lady Helen (who thenight before had been removed into the quiet cell appointed for her)slept long and sweetly. Her exhausted frame found renovation; and sheawoke with a heavenly calm at her heart. A cheering vision had visitedher sleeping thoughts; and a trance of happy feelings absorbed hersenses, while her hardly disengaged spirit still hovered over itsfading images. 

She had seen in her dream a young knight enter her cell, bearing herfather in his arms. He laid the earl down before her; but as shestooped to embrace him, the knight took her by the hand, leading her tothe window of the apartment (which seemed extended to an immense size), he smiled, and said, "Look out and see how I have performed my vow!"She obeyed, and saw crowds of rejoicing people, who at sight of theyoung warrior raised such a shout, that Helen awoke. She started-shelooked around-she was still in the narrow cell, and lone; but therapture of beholding her father yet fluttered in her breast, and thetouch of the warrior's hand seemed still warm upon hers. "Angels ofrest, " cried she, "I thank ye for this blessed vision!"

The prior of St. Fillan might have read his own just sentiment in theheart of Lady Helen. While the gentlest of human beings, she was anevidence that an ardent and pious mind contains the true principles ofheroism. Hope, in such a mind, treads down impossibilities; and, regardless of impediments or dangers, rushes forward to seize theprize. In the midst of hosts, it feels a conqueror's power; or, whenits strength fails, sees, by the eye of faith, legions of angelswatching to support the natural weakness. Lady Helen knew that thecause was just which had put the sword into the hand of Wallace; thatit was virtue which had prompted her father to second him; and wherejustice is there are the wings of the Most High stretched out as ashield!

This dream seemed prophetic. "Yes, " cried she, "though thousands ofEdward's soldiers surrounded my father and his friend, I should notdespair. Thy life, O noble Wallace, was not give to be extinguished inan hour! Thy morn has hardly risen, the perfect day must come that isto develop thy greatness-that is to prove thee (and oh! gracious God, grant my prayer!) the glory of Scotland!"

Owing to the fervor of her apostrophe, she did not observe the door ofthe cell open, till the prior stood before her. After expressing hispleasure at the renovation in her countenance, he informed her of thedeparture of the English soldier, and of the alarm which he and Murrayhad sustained for his safety, by the adventure which had thrown astranger from the craigs into their protection. At the mention of thatnow momentous spot, she blushed; the golden-haired warrior of her dreamseemed ready to rise before her; and with a beating heart she preparedto hear some true but miraculous account of her father's rescue. 

Unconscious of what was passing in her young and eager mind, the priorcalmly proceeded to relate all that Ker had told of the dangerousextremity to which Wallace was reduced; and then closed hisintelligence, by mentioning the attempt which meditated to save him. The heightened color gradually faded from the face of Helen, and lowsighs were her only responses to the observations the good priest madeon the difficulty of the enterprise. But when his pity for the braveman engaged in the cause, betrayed him into expressing his fears thatthe patriotic zeal of Wallace would only make him and them a sacrifice, Helen looked up; there was inspiration on her lips and in her eyes. "Father, " said she, "hast thou not taught me that God shieldeth thepatriot as well as armeth him!"

"True!" returned he, with an answering smile; "steadily believe this, and where will be the sighs you have just been breathing!"

"Nature will shrink, " replied she; "but the Christian's hope checks herere she falls. Pardon me then, holy father, that I sometimes weep; butthey are often tears of trust and consolation. "

"Daughter of heaven, " replied the good prior, "you might teach devotionto age, and cause youth to be enamored of the graces of religion! Beever thus, and you may look with indifference on the wreck of worlds. "

Helen having meekly replied to this burst from the heart of the holyman, begged to see her cousin before he set off on his expedition. Theprior withdrew, and within an hour after, Murray entered the apartment. Their conversation was long, and their parting full of an interestthat dissolved them both into tears. "When I see you again, my bravecousin, tell me that my father is free, and his preserver safe. Yourown life, dear Andrew, " added she, as he pressed his cheek to hers, "must always be precious to me. "

Murray hastily withdrew, and Helen was again alone. 

The young chieftain and Ker covered their armor with shepherd's plaids;and having received a thousand blessings from the prior and Halbert, proceeded under shelter of the night, through the obscurest paths ofthe wood which divided Bothwell from Drumshargard. 

Sir John Murray was gone to rest when his nephew arrived, but LordAndrew's voice being well known by the porter, he was admitted into thehouse; and leaving his companion in the dining-hall, went to theapartment of his uncle. The old knight was soon aroused, and welcomedhis nephew with open arms; for he had feared, from the accounts broughtby the fugitive tenants of Bothwell, that he also had been carried awayprisoner. 

Murray now unfolded his errand-first to obtain a band of Sir John'strustiest people to assist in rescuing the preserver of the earl's lifefrom immediate destruction; and secondly, if a commission for LordMar's release did not arrive from King Edward, to aid him to free hisuncle and the countess from Dumbarton Castle. 

Sir John listened with growing anxiety to his nephew's details. Whenhe heard of Lady Helen's continuing in the convent, he highly approvedit. "That is well, " said he; "so bring her to any private protectionwould only spread calamity. She might be traced, and her protector putin danger; none but the church, with safety to itself, can grant asylumto the daughter of a state prisoner. "

"Then I doubly rejoice she is there, " replied Murray, "and there shewill remain, till your generous assistance empowers me to rescue herfather. "

"Lord Mar has been very rash, nephew, " returned Drumshargard. "Whatoccasion was there for him to volunteer sending men to support SirWilliam Wallace? and how durst he bring ruin on Bothwell Castle, bycollecting unauthorized by my brother, its vassals for so dangerous anexperiment?"

Murray started at these unexpected observations. He knew his uncle wastimid, but he had never suspected him of meanness; however, inconsideration of the respect he owed to him as his father's brother, hesmothered his disgust, and gave him a mild answer. But the old mancould not approve of a nobleman of his rank running himself, hisfortune, and his friends into peril, to pay any debt of gratitude; and, as to patriotic sentiments being a stimulus, he treated the idea withcontempt. "Trust me, Andrew, " said he, "nobody profits by thesenotions but thieves and desperate fellows ready to become thieves!"

"I do not understand you, sir!"

"Not understand me?" replied the knight, rather impatiently. "Whosuffers in these contests for liberty, as you choose to call them, butsuch men as Lord Mar and your father? Betrayed by artful declamation, they rush into conspiracies against the existing government, aredetected, ruined, and perhaps finally lose their lives! Who gains byrebellion, but a few penniless wretches, that embrace these vauntedprinciples from the urgency of their necessities? They acquireplunder, under the mask of extraordinary disinterestedness; andhazarding nothing of themselves but their worthless lives, they wouldmake tools of the first men in the realm; and throw the whole countryinto flames, that they may catch a few brands from the fire!"

Young Murray felt his anger rise with this speech. "You do not speakto my point, sir! I do not come here to dispute the general evil ofrevolt, but to ask your assistance to snatch two of the bravest men inScotland from the fangs of the tyrant who has made you a slave!"

"Nephew!" cried the knight, starting from his couch; and darting afierce look at him, "if any man but one of my own blood had utteredthat word, this hour should have been his last. "

"Every man, sir, " continued Murray, "who acts upon your principles, must know himself to be a slave;-and to resent being called so, is toaffront his conscience. A name is nothing, the fact ought to knockupon your heart, and there arouse the indignation of a Scot and aMurray. See you not the villages of your country burning around you?the castles of your chieftains razed to the ground? Did not theplains of Dunbar reek with the blood of your kinsmen; and even now, doyou not see them led away in chains to the strongholds of the tyrant?Are not your stoutest vassals pressed from your service, and sent intoforeign wars? And yet you exclaim, 'I see no injury-I spurn at thename of slave!'"

Murray rose from his seat as he ended, and walking the room inagitation, did not perceive the confusion of his uncle, who, at onceovercome with conviction and fear, again ventured to speak: "It is toosure you speak truth, Andrew; but what am I, or any other privateindividual, that we should make ourselves a forlorn hope for the wholenation? Will Baliol, who was the first to bow to the usurper, will hethank us for losing our heads in resentment of his indignity? Brucehimself, the rightful heir of the crown, leaves us to our fates, andhas become a courtier in England! For whom, then, should I adventuremy gray hairs, and the quiet of my home, to seek an uncertain liberty, and to meet an almost certain death?"

"For Scotland, uncle, " replied he; "just laws are her right. You areher son; and if you do not make one in the grand attempt to rescue herfrom the bloodhounds which tear her vitals, the guilt of parricide willbe on your soul! Think not, sir, to preserve your home, or even yourgray hairs, by hugging the chains by which you are bound. You are aScot, and that is sufficient to arm the enemy against your property andlife. Remember the fate of Lord Monteith! At the very time he wasbeset by the parasites of Edward, and persuaded by their flatteries tobe altogether as an Englishman, in that very hour, when he had taken aniece of Cressingham's to his arms, by her hands the vengeance ofEdward reached him-he fell!"

Murray saw that his uncle was struck, and that he trembled. 

"But I am too insignificant, Andrew!"

"You are the brother of Lord Bothwell!" answered Murray, with all thedignity of his father rising in his countenance. "His largepossessions made him a traitor in the eyes of the tyrant'srepresentatives. Cressingham, as treasurer for the crew, has alreadysent his lieutenant to lord it in our paternal castle; and do notdeceive yourself in believing that some one of his officers will notrequire the fertile fields of Drumshargard as a reward for hisservices! No!-cheat not yourself with the idea that the brother ofLord Bothwell will be too insignificant to share in the honor ofbearing a part in the confiscations of his country! Trust me, myuncle, the forbearance of tyrants is not that of mercy, but ofconvenience. When they need your wealth, or your lands, yoursubmission is forgotten, and a prison, or the ax, ready to give themquiet possession. "

Sir John Murray, though a timid and narrow-sighted man, now fullycomprehended his nephew's reasoning; and his fears taking a differentturn, he hastily declared his determination to set off immediately forthe Highlands. "In the morning, by daybreak, " said he, "I willcommence my journey, and join my brother at Loch-awe; for I cannotbelieve myself safe a moment, while so near the garrisons of the enemy. "

Murray approved this plan; and after obtaining his hard-wrung leave totake thirty men from his vassals, he returned to Ker, to inform him ofthe success of his mission. It was not necessary, neither would ithave been agreeable to his pride, to relate the arguments which hadbeen required to obtain this small assistance; and in the course of anhour he brought together the appointed number of the bravest men on theestate. When equipped he led them into the hall, to receive the lastcommand from their feudal lord. 

On seeing them armed, with every man his drawn dirk in his hand, SirJohn turned pale. Murray, with the unfolded banner of Mar in hisgrasp, and Ker by his side, stood at their head. 

"Young men, " said the old knight, striving to speak in a firm tone, "inthis expedition you are to consider yourselves the followers of mynephew; he is brave and honourable, therefore I commit you to hiscommand. But as you go on his earnest petition, I am not answerable toany man for the enterprises to which he may lead you. "

"Be they all on my own head!" cried Murray, blushing at his uncle'spusillanimity, and drawing out his sword with an impatience that madethe old knight start. "We now have your permission to depart, sir?"

Sir John gave a ready assent; he was anxious to get so hotheaded ayouth out of his house, and to collect his gold and servants, that hemight commence his own flight by break of day. 

It was still dark as midnight when Murray and his little company passedthe heights above Drumshargard, and took their rapid though silentmarch toward the cliffs, which would conduct them to the more dangerouspasses of the Cartlane Craigs. 

Chapter XIII. 

Banks of the Clyde. 

Two days passed drearily away to Helen. She could no expect tidingsfrom her cousin in so short a time. No more happy dreams cheered herlonely hours; and anxiety to learn what might be the condition of theearl and countess so possessed her that visions of affright nowdisturbed both her waking and sleeping senses. Fancy showed them inirons and in a dungeon, and sometimes she started in horror, thinkingthat perhaps at that moment the assassin's steel was raised against thelife of her father. 

On the morning of the third day, when she was chiding herself for suchrebellious despondence, her female attendant entered to say, that afriar was come to conduct her where she would see messengers from Ladymar. Helen lingered not a moment, but giving her hand to the goodfather, was led by him into the library, where the prior was standingbetween two men in military habits. One wore English armor, with hisvisor closed; the other, a knight, was in tartans. The Scot presentedher with a signet, set in gold. Helen looked on it, and immediatelyrecognized the same that her stepmother always used. 

The Scottish knight was preparing to address her, when the priorinterrupted him, and taking Lady Helen's hand, made her seat herself. "Compose yourself for a few minutes, " said he; "this transitory lifehourly brings forward events to teach us to be calm, and to resign ourwishes and our wills to the Lord of all things. "

Helen looked fearfully in his face. "Some evil tidings are to be toldme. " The blood left her lips; it seemed leaving her heart also. Theprior, full of compassion, hesitated to speak. The Scot abruptlyanswered her:

"Be not alarmed, lady, your parents have fallen into humane hands. I amsent, under the command of this noble Southron knight, to conduct youto them. "

"Then my father lives! They are safe!" cried she, in a transport ofjoy, and bursting into tears. 

"He yet lives, " returned the officer; "but his wounds opening afresh, and the fatigues of his journey, have so exhausted him that Lord Aymerde Valence has granted the prayers of the countess, and we come to takeyou to receive his last blessing. "

A cry of anguish burst from the heart of Lady Helen, and falling intothe arms of the prior, she found refuge from woe in a mercifulinsensibility. The pitying exertions of the venerable father at lastrecalled her to recollection and to sorrow. She rose from the bench onwhich he had laid her, and begged permission to retire for a fewminutes; tears choked her further utterance, and, being led out by thefriar, she once more reentered her cell. 

Lady Helen passed the moments she had requested in those duties whichalone can give comfort to the afflicted, when all that is visible bidsus despair; and rising from her knees, with that holy fortitude whichnone but the devout can know, she took her mantle and veil, andthrowing them over her, sent her attendant to the prior, to say she wasready to set out on her journey, and wished to receive his partingbenediction. The venerable father, followed by Halbert, obeyed hersummons. On seeing the poor old harper, Helen's heart lost some of itsnewly-acquired composure. She held out her hand to him; he pressed itto his lips. "Farewell, sweetest lady! May the prayers of the dearsaint, to whose remains your pious care gave a holy grave, draw downupon your own head consolation and peace!" The old man sobbed; and thetears of Lady Helen, as he bent upon her hand, dropped upon his silverhair. "May Heaven hear you, good Halbert! And cease not, venerableman, to pray for me; for I go into the hour of trial. "

"All that dwell in this house, my daughter, " rejoined the prior, "shallput up orisons for your comfort, and for the soul of the departingearl. " Observing that her grief augmented at these words, he proceededin a yet more soothing voice: "Regret not that he goes before you, forwhat is death but entrance into life? It is the narrow gate, whichshuts us from this dark world, to usher us into another, of everlastinglight and happiness. Weep not, then, dear child of the church, thatyour earthly parents precede you to the Heavenly Father; rather say, with the Virgin Saint Bride, 'How long, O Lord, am I to be banished thypresence? How long endure the prison of my body, before I am admittedto the freedom of Paradise, to the bliss of thy saints above?'"

Helen raised her eyes, yet shining in tears, and with a divine smilepressing the crucifix to her breast, "You do indeed arm me, my father!This is my strength!"

"And one that will never fail thee!" exclaimed he. She dropped uponone knee before him. He crossed his hands over her head-he looked upto heaven-his bosom heaved-his lips moved-then pausing a moment-"Go, "said he, "and may the angels which guard innocence minister to yoursorrows, and lead you into peace!"

Helen bowed, and breathing inwardly a devout response, rose andfollowed the prior out of the cell. At the end of the cloister sheagain bade farewell to Halbert. Before the great gates stood theknights with their attendants. She once more kissed the crucifix heldby the prior, and giving her hand to the Scot, was placed by him on ahorse richly caparisoned. He sprung on another himself, while theEnglish officer, who was already mounted, drawing up to her, she pulleddown her veil, and all bowing to the holy brotherhood at the porch, rode off at a gentle pace. 

A long stretch of wood, which spread before the monastery, and screenedthe back of Bothwell Castle from being discernible on that side of theClyde, lay before them. Through this green labyrinth they pursuedtheir way, till they crossed the river. 

"Time wears!" exclaimed the Scot to his companion; "we must push on. "The English knight nodded, and set his spurs into his steed. The wholetroop now fell into a rapid trot. The banks of the Avon opened into ahundred beautiful seclusions, which, intersecting the deep sides of theriver with umbrageous shades and green hillocks, seemed to shut it fromthe world. Helen in vain looked for the distant towers of DumbartonCastle marking the horizon; no horizon appeared, but ranges of rocksand wooded precipices. 

A sweet breeze played through the valley and revived her harassedframe. She put aside her veil to enjoy its freshness, and saw that theknights turned their horses' heads into one of the obscurest mountaindefiles. She started at its depth, and at the gloom which involved itsextremity. "It is our nearest path, " said the Scot. Helen made noreply, but turning her steed also, followed him, there being room foronly one at a time to ride along the narrow margin of the river thatflowed at its base. The Englishman, whose voice she had not yet heard, and his attendants, followed likewise in file; and with difficulty thehorses could make their way through the thicket which interlaced thepathway, so confined, indeed, that it rather seemed a cleft made by anearthquake in the mountain than a road for the use of man. 

When they had been employed for an hour in breaking their way throughthis trackless glen, they came to a wider space, where other andbroader ravines opened before them. The Scot, taking a pass to theright, raised his bugle, and blew so sudden a blast that the horse onwhich Lady Helen sat took fright, and began to plunge and rear, to theevident hazard of throwing her into the stream. Some of the dismountedmen, seeing her danger, seized the horse by the bridle; while theEnglish knight extricating her from the saddle, carried her throughsome clustering bushes into a cave, and laid her at the feet of anarmed man. 

Terrified at this extraordinary action, she started up with a piercingshriek, but was at that moment enveloped in the arms of the stranger, while a loud shout of exhultation resounded from the Scot who stood atthe entrance. It was echoed from without. There was horror in everysound. "Blessed Virgin, protect me!" she cried, striving to break fromthe fierce grasp that held her. "Where am I?" looking wildly at thetwo men who had brought her: "Why am I not taken to my father?"

She received no answer, and both the Scot and the Englishman left theplace. The stranger still held her locked in a gripe that seemed ofiron. In vain she struggled, in vain she shrieked, in vain she calledon earth and Heaven, for assistance; she was held, and still he keptsilence. Exhausted with terror and fruitless attempt for release, sheput her hands together, and in a calmer tone exclaimed: "If you havehonor or humanity in your heart, release me! I am an unprotectedwoman, praying for your mercy; withhold it not, for the sake of Heavenand your own soul. "

"Kneel to me then, thou siren!" cried the warrior, with fierceness. Ashe spoke he threw the tender knees of Lady Helen upon the rocky floor. His voice echoed terribly in her ears, but obeying him, "Free me, "cried she, "for the sake of my dying father!"

"Never, till I have had my revenge!"

At this dreadful denunciation she shuddered to the soul, but yet shespoke: "Surely I am mistaken for some one else! Oh, how can I haveoffended any man to incur so cruel an outrage?"

The warrior burst into a satanic laugh, and, throwing up his visor, "Behold me, Helen!" cried he, grasping her clasped hands with ahorrible force, "My hour is come!"

At the sight of the dreadful face of Soulis she comprehended all herdanger, and with supernatural strength, wresting her hands from hishold, she burst through the bushes out of the cave. Her betrayersstood at the entrance, and catching her in their arms, brought her backto their lord. But it was an insensible form they now laid before him;overcome with horror her senses had fled. Short was this suspensionfrom misery; water was thrown on her face, and she awoke torecollection, lying on the bosom of her enemy. Again she struggled, again her cries echoed from side to side of the cavern. "Peace!" criedthe monster; "you cannot escape; you are now mine forever! Twice yourefused to be my wife; you dared to despise my love and my power; nowyou shall feel my hatred and my revenge!"

"Kill me!" cried the distracted Helen; "kill me and I will bless you!"

"That would be a poor vengeance, " cried he; "you must be humbled, proudminion, you must learn to fawn on me for a smile; to woo, as my slave, for one of those caresses you spurned to receive as my wife. " As hespoke, he strained her to his breast, with the contending expressionsof passion and revenge glaring in his eyes. Helen shrieked at thepollution of his lips; and as he more fiercely held her, her handstruck against the hilt of his dagger. In a moment she drew it, andarmed with the strength of outraged innocence, unwitting whether itgave death or not, only hoping it would release her, she struck it intohis side. All was the action of an instant while, as instantaneously, he caught her wrist, and exclaiming, "Damnable traitress!" dashed herfrom him, stunned and motionless to the ground. 

The weapon had not penetrated far. But the sight of his blood, drawnby the hand of a woman, incensed the raging Soulis. He called aloud onMacgregor. The two men, who yet stood without the cave, re-entered. They started when they saw a dagger in his hand, and Helen, lyingapparently lifeless, with blood sprinkled on her garments. 

Macgregor, who had personated the Scottish knight, in a tremulous voiceasked why he had killed the lady?

Soulis frowned: "Here!" cried he, throwing open his vest: "this wound, that beautiful fiend you so piteously look upon, aimed at my life!"

"My lord, " said the other man, who had heard her shrieks, "I expecteddifferent treatment for the Earl of Mar's daughter. "

"Base Scot!" returned Soulis, "when you brought a woman into thesewilds to me, you had no right to expect that I should use her otherwisethan as I pleased, and you, as the servile minister of my pleasures. "

"This language, Lord Soulis!" rejoined the man, much agitated; "but youmistook me-I meant not to reproach. "

"'Tis well you did not;" and turning from him with contempt, helistened to Macgregor, who, stooping toward the inanimate Helen, observed that her pulse beat. "Fool!" returned Soulis, "did you thinkI would so rashly throw away what I have been at such pains to gain?Call your wife; she knows how to teach these minions submission to mywill. "

The man obeyed; and while his companion, by the command of Soulis, bound a fillet round the bleeding forehead of Helen, cut by the flints, the chief brought two chains, and fastening them to her wrists andankles, exclaimed, with brutal triumph, while he locked them on:"There, my haughty damsel, flatter not thyself that the arms of Soulisshall be thine only fetters. "

Macgregor's wife entered, and promised to obey all her lord'sinjunctions. When she was left alone with the breathless body ofHelen, water, and a few cordial drops, which she poured into theunhappy lady's mouth, soon recalled her wretched senses. On openingher eyes, the sight of one of her own sex inspired her with some hope;but attempting to stretch out her hands in supplication, she washorror-struck at finding them fastened, and at the clink of the chainswhich bound her. "Why am I thus?" demanded she of the woman; butsuddenly recollecting having attempted to pierce Soulis with his owndagger, and now supposing she had slain him, she added, "Is Lord Souliskilled?"

"No, " replied the woman; "my husband says he is but slightly hurt; andsurely your fair face belies your heart, if you could intend the deathof so brave and loving a lord!"

"You then belong to him?" cried the wretched Helen, wringing her hands. "What will be my unhappy fate! Virgin of heaven, take me to thyself!"

"Heaven forbid!" cried the woman, "that you should pray against beingthe favorite lady of our noble chief! Many are the scores aroundHermitage Castle who would come hither on their hands and knees toarrive at that happiness. "

"Happiness!" cried Lady Helen, in anguish of spirit; "it can visit meno more till I am restored to my father, till I am released from thepower of Soulis. Give me liberty, " continued she, wildly grasping thearm of the woman. "Assist me to escape, and half the wealth of theEarl of Mar shall be your reward. "

"Alas!" returned the woman, "my lord would burn me on the spot, andmurder my husband, did he think I even listened to such a project. No, lady; you never will see your father more; for none who enter my lord'sHermitage ever wish to come out again. "

"The Hermitage!" cried Helen, in augmented horror. "Oh, Father ofmercy! never let me live to enter those accursed walls!"

"They are frightful enough, to be sure, " returned the woman; "but you, gentle lady, will be princess there; and in all things commanding thekingly heart of its lord, have rather cause to bless than to curse thecastle of Soulis. "

"Himself, and all that bear his name, are accused to me, " returnedHelen; "his love is my abomination, his hatred my dread. Pity me, kindcreature; and if you have a daughter whose honor is dear to yourprayers, think you see her in me, and have compassion on me. My lifeis in your hands; for I swear before the throne of Almighty Purity, that Soulis shall see me die rather than dishonored!"

"Poor young soul!" cried the woman, looking at her frantic gestureswith commiseration; "I would pity you if I durst; but I repeat, mylife, and my husband's, and my children, who are now near Hermitage, would all be sacrificed to the rage of Lord Soulis. You must becontent to submit to his will. " Helen closed her hands over her facein mute despair, and the woman went on: "And as for the matter of yourmaking such lamentations about your father, if he be as little yourfriend as your mother is you have not much cause to grieve on thatscore. "

Helen started. "My mother! what of her? Speak! tell me! It is indeedher signet that betrayed me into these horrors. She cannot haveconsented! Oh, no! some villians-speak! tell me what you would say ofLady Mar?"

Regardless of the terrible emotion which now shook the frame of herauditor, the woman coolly replied, she had heard from her husband, whowas the confidential servant of Lord Soulis, that it was to Lady mar heowed the knowledge of Helen being at Bothwell. The countess hadwritten a letter to her cousin, Lord Buchan, who being a sworn friendof England, she intimated with Lord de Valence at Dumbarton. In thisepistle she intimated her wish that Lord Buchan would devise a plan tosurprise Bothwell Castle the ensuing day, to prevent the departure ofits armed vassals, then preparing to march to the support of the outlawSir William Wallace, who, with his band of robbers, was lurking aboutthe caverns of the Cartlane Craigs. 

When this letter arrived, Lord Soulis was at dinner with the otherlords; and Buchan, laying it before De Valence, they all consulted whatwas best to be done. Lady Mar begged her cousin not to appear in theaffair himself, that she might escape the suspicions of her lord; who, she strongly declared, was not arming his vassals from any disloyaldisposition toward the king of England, but solely at the instigationsof Wallace, to whom he romantically considered himself bound by theties of gratitude. As she gave this information, she hoped that noattainder would fall upon her husband. And to keep the transaction asclose as possible, she proposed that the Lord Soulis, who sheunderstood was then at Dumbarton, should take the command of two orthree thousand troops, and marching to Bothwell next morning, seize thefew hundred armed Scots who were there ready to proceed to themountains. She ended by saying that her daughter-in-law was in thecastle, which she hoped would be an inducement to Soulis to insure theEarl of Mar's safety for the sake of her hand as his reward. 

The greatest part of Lady Mar's injunctions could not be attended to, as Lord de Valence, as well as Soulis, was made privy to the secret. The English nobleman declared that he should not do his duty to hisking if he did not head the force that went to quell so dangerous aconspiracy; and Soulis, eager to go at any rate, joyfully accepted thehonor of being his companion. Lord Buchan was easily persuaded to theseizure of the earl's person, as De Valence flattered him that the kingwould endow him with the Mar estates, which must now be confiscated. Helen groaned at the latter part of the narrative, but the woman, without noticing it, proceeded to relate how, when the party hadexecuted their design at Bothwell Castle, she was to have been taken bySoulis to his castle near Glasgow; but on that wily Scot not findingher, he conceived the suspicion that Lord de Valence had prevailed onthe countess to give her up to him. He observed, that the woman whocould be induced to betray her daughter to one man, would easily bebribed to repeat the crime to another, and under this impression, heaccused the English nobleman of treachery. De Valence denied itvehemently so quarrel ensued, and Soulis departed with a few of hisfollowers, giving out that he was retiring in high indignation toDunglass. But the fact was, he lurked about in Bothwell wood; and fromits recesses saw Cressingham's lieutenant march by to take possessionof the castle in the king's name. 

A deserter from this troop fell in with Lord Soulis' company, andflying to him for protection, a long private conversation took placebetween them. At this period, one of the spies who had been left bythat chief in quest of news, returned with a female tenant of St. Fillan's, whom he had seduced from her home. She told Lord Soulis allhe wanted to know; informing him that a beautiful young lady, who couldbe no other than Lady Helen Mar, was concealed in that convent. 

On this information he conversed a long time with the stranger fromCressingham's detachment. And determining on carrying off Helenimmediately to Hermitage, that the distance of Teviotdale might rendera rescue less probable, he laid the plan accordingly. "Inconsequence, " continued the woman, "my husband and the stranger, theone habited as a Scottish and the other as an English knight (for mylord being ever on some wild prank, has always a chest of strangedresses with him), set out for St. Fillan's, taking with them thesignet which your mother had sent with her letter to the earl hercousin. They hoped such a pledge of their truth would insure themcredit. You know the tale they invented; and its success proves mylord to be no bad contriver. "

Chapter XIV. 

The Pentland Hills. 

Helen listened with astonishment and grief to this too probable storyof her step-mother's ill-judged tenderness or cruel treachery; andremembering the threats which had escaped that lady in their lastconversation, she saw no reason to doubt what so clearly explained thebefore inexplicable seizure of her father, the betraying of Wallace, and her own present calamity. 

"You do not answer me, " rejoined the woman; "but if you think I don'tsay true, Lord Soulis himself will assure you of the fact. "

"Alas, no!" returned Helen, profoundly sighing, "I believe it too well. I see the depth of the misery into which I am plunged. And yet, "cried she, recollecting the imposition the men had put upon her:-"yet, I shall not be wholly so, if my father lives, and was not in theextremity they told me of!"

"If that thought gives you comfort, retain it, " returned the woman;"the whole story of the earl's illness was an invention to bring you atso short notice from the protection of the prior. "

"I thank thee, gracious Providence, for this comfort!" exclaimed Helen;"it inspires me with redoubled trust in thee. "

Margery shook her head. "Ah, poor victim (thought she), how vain isthy devotion!" But she had not time to say so, for her husband and thedeserter from Cressingham re-entered the cave. Helen, afraid that itwas Soulis, started up. The stranger proceeded to lift her in hisarms; she struggled, and in the evidence of her action, struck hisbeaver; it opened, and discovered a pale and stern countenance, with alarge scar across his jaw; this mark of contest, and the gloomy scowlof his eyes, made Helen rush toward the woman for protection. The manhastily closed his helmet, and, speaking through the clasped steel, forthe first time she heard his voice; it sounded, hollow and decisive; hebade her prepare to accompany Lord Soulis in a journey to the south. 

Helen looked at her shackled arms, and despairing of effecting herescape by any effort of her own, she thought that gaining time might besome advantage; and allowing the man to take her hand, while Macgregorsupported her on the other side, they led her out of the cave. Sheobserved the latter smiled significantly at his wife. "Oh!" cried she, "to what am I betrayed? Unhand me! Leave me!" Almost fainting withdread, she leaned against the arm of the stranger. 

Thunder now peaked over her head, and lightning shot across themountains. She looked up: "Merciful Heaven!" cried she, in a voice ofdeep horror; "send down thy bolt on me!" At that moment Soulis, mounted on his steed, approached, and ordered her to be put into thelitter. Incapable of contending with the numbers which surrounded her, she allowed them to execute their master's commands. Macgregor's wifewas set on a pillion behind him; and Soulis giving the word, they allmarched on at a rapid pace. In a few hours, having cleared the shadyvalleys of the Clyde, they entered the long and barren tracts of theLeadhill Moors. 

A dismal hue overspread the country; the thunder yet roared in distantpeals, and the lightning came down in such vast sheets that thecarriers were often obliged to set down their burden, and cover theireyes to regain their sight. A shrill wind pierced the slight coveringof the litter, and blowing it aside, discovered the mist; or thegleaming of some wandering water, as it glided away over the cheerlesswaste. 

"All is desolation, like myself!" thought Helen; but neither the coldwind, nor the rain, now drifting into her vehicle, occasioned her anysensation. It is only when the mind is at ease, that the body isdelicate; all within her was too expectant of mental horrors to noticethe casual inconveniences of season or situation. The cavalcade withdifficulty mounted the steps of a mountainous hill, where the stormraged so turbulently that the men who carried the litter stopped, andtold their lord it would be impossible to proceed in the approachingdarkness; they conjured him to look at the perpendicular rocks, rendered indistinct by the gathering mist; to observe the overwhelminggusts of the tempest; and then judge whether they dare venture with thelitter on so dangerous a pathway, made slippery by descending rain!

To halt in such a spot seemed to Soulis as unsafe as to proceed. "Weshall not be better off, " answered he, "should we attempt to return:precipices lie on either side: and to stand still would be equallyperilous: the torrents from the heights increase so rapidly, there isevery chance of our being swept away, should we remain exposed to thestream. "

Helen looked at these sublime cascades with a calm welcome, as theypoured from the hills, and flung their spray upon the roof of hervehicle. She hailed her release in the death they menaced; and farfrom being intimidated at the prospect, cast a resigned, and evenwistful glance, into the swelling lake beneath, under whose waves sheexpected soon to sleep. 

On the remonstrance of their master, the men resumed their pace; andafter a hard contention with the storm, they gained the summit of thewest side of the mountain, and were descending its eastern brow, whenthe shades of night closed in upon them. Looking down into the blackchaos, on the brink of which they must pass along, they once moreprotested they could not advance a foot, until the dawn should givethem some security. 

At this declaration, which Soulis saw could not now be disputed, heordered the troop to halt under the shelter of a projecting rock. Itshuge arch overhung the ledge that formed the road, while the deep gulfat his feet, by the roaring of its waters, proclaimed itself thereceptacle of those cataracts which rush tremendous from theever-streaming Pentland hills. 

Soulis dismounted. The men set down the litter, and removed to adistance as he approached. He opened one of the curtains, and throwinghimself beside the exhausted, but watchful Helen, clasped his armsroughly about her, and exclaimed, "Sweet minion, I must pillow on yourbosom till the morn awakes!" His brutal lips were again riveted to hercheek. Ten thousand strengths seemed then to heave him from her heart;and struggling with a power that amazed even herself, she threw himfrom her; and holding him off with her shackled arms, her shrieks againpierced the heavens. 

"Scream thy soul away, poor foul!" exclaimed Soulis, seizing herfiercely in his arms; "for thou art now so surely mine, that Heavenitself cannot deprive me!"

At that moment her couch was shaken by a sudden shock, and in the nextshe was covered with the blood of Soulis. A stroke from an unseen armhad reached him, and starting on his feet, a fearful battle of swordstook place over the prostrate Helen. 

One of the men, out of the numbers who hastened to the assistance oftheir master, fell dead on her body; while the chief himself, sorelywounded, and breathing revenge and blasphemy, was forced off by thesurvivors. "Where do you carry me, villians?" cried he. "Separate menot from the vengeance I will yet hurl on that demon who has robbed meof my victim, or ye shall die a death more horrible than hell caninflict!" He raved; but more unheeded than the tempest. Terrifiedthat the spirits of darkness were indeed their pursuers, in spite ofhis reiterated threats, the men carried him to a distant hollow in therock, and laid him down, now insensible from loss of blood. One or twoof the most desperate returned to see what was become of Lady Helen;well aware that if they could regain her, their master would besatisfied; but, on the reverse, should she be lost, the whole troopknew their fate would be some merciless punishment. 

Macgregor, and the deserter of Cressingham, were the first who reachedthe spot where the lady had been left; with horror they found thelitter, but not herself. She was gone. But whether carried off by themysterious arm which had felled their lord, or she had thrown herselfinto the foaming gulf beneath, they could not determine. They decided, however, the latter should be their report to Soulis; knowing that hewould rather believe the object of his passions had perished, than thatshe had escaped his toils. 

Almost stupefied with consternation, they returned to repeat this taleto their furious lord; who, on having his wounds staunched, hadrecovered from his swoon. On hearing that the beautiful creature hehad so lately believed his own beyond the power of fate; that hisproperty, as he called her, the devoted slave of his will, the mistressof his destiny, was lost to him forever! swallowed up in the whelmingwave! he became frantic. There was desperation in every word. Heraved; tore up the earth like a wild beast; and, foaming at the mouth, dashed the wife of Macgregor from him, as she approached with a freshbalsam for his wounds. "Off, scum of a damned sex!" cried he. "Whereis she, whom I intrusted to thy care?"

"My lord, " answered the affrighted woman, "you know best. Youterrified the poor young creature. You forced yourself into a litter, and can you wonder-"

"That I should force you to perdition! execrable witch, " cried he, "that knew no better how to prepare a slave to receive her lord!" Ashe spoke, he struck her again; but it was with his gauntlet hand, andthe eyes of the unfortunate woman opened no more. The blow fell on hertemple, and a motionless corpse lay before him. 

"My wife!" cried the poor Macgregor, putting his trembling arms abouther neck: "Oh, my lord, how have I deserved this? You have slain her!"

"Suppose I have!" returned the chief with a cold scorn; "she was oldand ugly; and could you recover Helen, you should cull Hermitage, for asubstitute for this prating bedlam. "

Macgregor made no reply, but feeling in his heart that he "who sows thewind, must reap the whirlwind;" that such were the rewards fromvillainy, to its vile instruments; he could not but say to himself, "Ihave deserved it of my God, but not of thee!" and sobbing over theremains of his equally criminal wife, by the assistance of his comradeshe removed her from the now hated presence of his lord. 

Chapter XV. 

The Hut. 

Meanwhile the Lady Helen, hardly rational from the horror and hope thatagitated her, extricated herself from the dead body; and in hereagerness to escape, would certainly have fallen over the precipice, had not the same gallant arm which had covered her persecutor withwounds, caught her as she sprung from the litter. "Fear not, lady, "exclaimed a gentle voice; "you are under the protection of a Scottishknight. "

There was a kindness in the sound, that seemed to proclaim the speakerto be of her own kindred; she felt as if suddenly rescued by a brother;and dropping her head on his bosom, a shower of grateful tears relievedher heart, and prevented her fainting. Aware that no time was to belost, that the enemy might soon be on him again, he clasped her in hisarms, and with the activity of a mountain deer, crossed two rushingstreams; leaping from rock to rock, even under the foam of their flood;and then treading with a light and steady step, an alpine bridge of onesingle tree, which arched the cataract below, he reached the oppositeside, where, spreading his plaid upon the rock, he laid the tremblingHelen upon it. Then softly breathing his bugle, in a moment he wassurrounded by a number of men, whose rough gratulations might havereawakened the alarm of Helen, had she not still heard his voice. There was graciousness and balm-distilling sweetness in every tone; andshe listened in calm expectation. 

He directed the men to take their axes, and cut away, on their side ofthe fall, the tree which arched it. It was probable the villian he hadjust assailed, or his followers, might pursue him; and he thought itprudent to demolish the bridge. 

The men obeyed, and the warrior returned to his fair charge. It wasraining fast; and fearful of further exposing her to the inclemenciesof the night, he proposed leading her to shelter. "There is a hermit'scell on the northern side of this mountain. I will conduct you thitherin the morning as to the securest asylum; but meanwhile we must seek anearer refuge. "

"Anywhere, sir, with honor my guide, " answered Helen, timidly. 

"You are safe with me, lady, " returned he, "as in the arms of theVirgin. I am a man who can now have no joy in womankind, but when as abrother I protect them. Whoever you are, confide in me, and you shallnot be betrayed. "

Helen confidently gave him her hand, and strove to rise; but at thefirst attempt, the shackles piercing her ankles, she sunk again on theground. The cold iron on her wrists touched the hand of her preserver. He now recollected his surprise on hearing the clank of chains, whencarrying her over the bridge. "Who" inquired he, "could have done thisunmanly deed?"

"The wretch from whom you rescued me-to prevent my escape from acaptivity worse than death. "

While she spoke, he wrenched open the manacles from her wrists andankles, and threw them over the precipice. As she heard them dash intothe torrent, an unutterable gratitude filled her heart; and againgiving her hand to him to lead her forward, she said with earnestness, "O sir, if you have a wife or sister-should they ever fall into thelike peril with mine; for in these terrific times, who is secure? mayHeaven reward your bravery, by sending them such a preserver!"

The stranger sighed deeply: "Sweet lady, " returned he, "I have nosister, no wife. But my kindred is nevertheless very numerous, and Ithank thee for thy prayer. " The hero sighed profoundly again, and ledher silently down the windings of the declivity. Having proceeded withcaution, they descended into a little wooded dell, and soon approachedthe half-standing remains of what had once been a shepherd's hut. 

"This, " said the knight, as they entered, "was the habitation of a goodold man, who fed his flock on these mountains; but a band of Southronsoldiers forced his only daughter from him, and, plundering his littleabode, drove him out upon the waste. He perished the same night, bygrief, and the inclemencies of the weather. His son, a brave youth, was left for dead by his sister's ravishers; but I found him in thisdreary solitude, and he told me the too general story of his wounds andhis despair. Indeed, lady, when I heard your shrieks from the oppositeside of the chasm, I thought they might proceed from this poor boy'ssister, and I flew to restore them to each other. "

Helen shuddered, as he related a tale so near resembling her own; andtrembling with weakness, and horror of what might have been her fatehad she not been rescued by this gallant stranger, she sunk exhaustedupon a turf seat. The chief still held her hand. It was very cold, and he called to his men to seek fuel to make a fire. While hismessengers were exploring the crannies of the rocks for dried leavesand sticks, Helen, totally overcome, leaned almost motionless againstthe wall of the hut. Finding, by her shortened breath, that she wasfainting, the knight took her in his arms, and supporting her on hisbreast, chafed her hands and her forehead. His efforts were in vain;she seemed to have ceased to breathe; hardly a pulse moved her heart. Alarmed at such signs of death, he spoke to one of his men who remainedin the hut. 

The man answered his master's inquiry by putting a flash into his hand. The knight poured some of its contents into her mouth. Her streaminglocks wetted his cheek. "Poor lady!" said he, "she will perish inthese forlorn regions, where neither warmth nor nourishment can befound. "

To his glad welcome, several of his men soon after entered with aquantity of withered boughs, which they had found in the fissures ofthe rock at some distance. With these a fire was speedily kindled; andits blaze diffusing comfort through the chamber, he had thesatisfaction of hearing a sigh from the breast of his charge. Her headstill leaned on his bosom when she opened her eyes. The light shonefull on her face. 

"Lady, " said he, "I bless God you are revived. " Her delicacy shrunk atthe situation in which she found herself; and raising herself, thoughfeebly, she thanked him, and requested a little water. It was given toher. She drank some, and would have met the fixed and compassionategaze of the knight, had not weakness cast such a film before her eyesthat she scarcely saw anything. Being still languid, she leaned herhead on the turf seat. Her face was pale as marble, and her long hair, saturated with wet, by its darkness made her look of a more deadly hue. 

"Death! how lovely canst thou be!" sighed the knight to himself-he evengroaned. Helen started, and looked around her with alarm. "Fear not, "said he, "I only dreaded your pale looks; but you revive, and will yetbless all that are dear to you. Suffer me, sweet lady, to drain thedangerous wet from these tresses?" He took hold of them as he spoke. She saw the water running from her hair over his hands, and allowinghis kind request, he continued wiping her glossy locks with his scarf, till, exhausted by fatigue, she gradually sunk into a profound sleep. 

Dawn had penetrated the ruined walls of the hut before Lady Helenawoke. But when she did, she was refreshed; and opening hereyes-hardly conscious where she was, or whether all that floated in hermemory were not the departing vapors of a frightful dream-she turnedher head and fixed them upon the figure of the knight, who was seatednear her. His noble air; and the pensive expression of his finefeatures, struck like a spell upon her gathering recollections; she atonce remembered all she had suffered, all that she owed to him. Shemoved. Her preserver turned his eyes toward her; seeing she was awake, he rose from the side of the dying embers he had sedulously kept aliveduring her slumber, and expressed his hopes that she felt restored. She returned him a grateful reply, in the affirmative; and he quittedher, to rouse his men for their journey to the hermit's cell. 

When he re-entered, he found Helen braiding up the fine hair which hadso lately been scattered by the elements. She would have risen at hisapproach, but he seated himself on a stone at her feet. "We shall bedetained here a few minutes longer, " said he; "I have ordered my men tomake a litter of crossed branches, to bear you on their shoulders. Your delicate limbs would not be equal to the toil of descending theseheights, to the glen of stones. The venerable man who inhabits therewill protect you until he can summon your family, or friends, toreceive his charge. "

At these words, which Helen thought were meant to reprove her for nothaving revealed herself, she blushed; but fearful of breathing a nameunder the interdict of the English governors, and which had alreadyspread devastation over all with whom it had been connected; fearful ofinvolving her preserver's safety, by making him aware of the persecutedcreature he had rescued; she paused for a moment, and then, with thecolor heightening on her cheeks, replied: "For your humanity, bravesir, shown this night to a friendless woman, I must be ever grateful;but not even to the hermit may I reveal my name. It is fraught withdanger to every honest Scot who should know that he protects one whobears it; and therefore, least of all, noble stranger, would I breatheit to you. " She averted her face, to conceal the emotions she couldnot subdue. 

The knight looked at her intensely, and profoundly sighed. Half herunbraided locks lay upon her bosom, which now heaved with suppressedfeelings; and the fast-falling tears, gliding through her longeyelashes dropped upon his hand; he sighed again, and tore his eyesfrom her countenance. "I ask not, madam, to know what you think properto conceal; but danger has no alarms for me, when, by incurring it, Iserve those who need a protector. "

A sudden thought flashed across her mind; might it not be possible thatthis tender guardian of her safety, this heroic profferer of service, was the noble Wallace? But the vain idea fled. He was pent up amidstthe beleaguered defiles of Cartland Craigs, sworn to extricate thehelpless families of his followers, or to perish with them. Thisknight was accompanied by none but men; and his kind eyes shone in tooserene a luster to be the mirrors of the disturbed soul of thesuffering chief of Ellerslie. "Ah! then, " murmured she to herself, "are there two men in Scotland who will speak thus?" She looked up inhis face. The plumes of his bonnet shaded his features; but she sawthey were paler than on his entrance, and a strange expression ofdistraction agitated their before composed lines. His eyes were bentto the ground as he proceeded:

"I am the servant of my fellow-creatures--command me and my fewfaithful followers; and if it be in the power of such small means tosuccor you or yours, I am ready to answer for their obedience. If thevillain from whom I had the happiness to release you be yet more deeplyimplicated in your sorrows, tell me how they can be relieved, and Iwill attempt it. I shall make no new enemies by the deed, for theSouthrons and I are at eternal enmity. "

Helen could not withdraw her eyes from his varying countenance, which, from underneath his dark plumes, seemed like a portentous cloud, atintervals to emit the rays of the cheering sun, or the lightning ofthreatening thunder. "Alas!" replied she, "ill should I repay suchnobleness were I to involve it in the calamities of my house. No, generous stranger, I must remain unknown. Leave me with the hermit;and from his cell I will send to some relation to take me thence. "

"I urge you no more, gentle lady, " replied the knight, rising; "were Iat the head of an army, instead of a handful of men, I might then havea better argument for offering my services; but as it is, I feel myweakness, and seek to know no further. "

Helen trembled with unaccountable emotion. "Were you at the head of anarmy, I might then dare to reveal the full weight of my anxieties; butHeaven has already been sufficiently gracious to me by your hands, inredeeming me from my cruelest enemy; and for the rest, I put my trustin the same overruling Providence. " At this moment a man entered andtold the knight the vehicle was finished, the morning fine, and his menready to march. He turned toward Helen: "May I conduct you to the rudecarriage we have prepared?"

Helen gathered her mantle about her; and the knight, throwing his scarfover her head-it had no other covering-she gave him her hand, and heled her out on the hut to the side of the bier. It was overlaid withthe men's plaids. The knight placed her on it; and the carriersraising it on their shoulders, her deliverer led the way, and they tooktheir course down the mountain. 

Chapter XVI. 

The Glen of Stones. 

They proceeded in silence through the curvings of the dell till itopened into a hazardous path along the top of a far-extending cliff, which overhung and clasped in the western side of a deep loch. As theymounted the pending wall of this immense amphitheater, Helen watchedthe sublime uprise of the king of light issuing from behind theopposite citadel of rocks, and borne aloft on a throne of clouds thatswam in floating gold. The herbage on the cliffs glittered with liquidemeralds, as his beams kissed their summits; and the lake beneathsparkled like a sea of molten diamonds. All nature seemed to rejoiceat the presence of this magnificent emblem of the Most High. Helen'sheart swelled with devotion, and its sacred voice breathed from herlips. 

"Such, " thought she, "O sun, art thou! The resplendent image of theGiver of all Good. Thy cheering beams, like his all-cheering Spirit, pervade the soul, and drive thence the despondency of cold anddarkness. But bright as thou art, how does the similitude fade beforegodlike man, the true image of his Maker. How far do his protectingarms extend over the desolate! How mighty is the power of hisbenevolence to dispense succor, to administer consolation!"

As she thus mused her eyes fell on the noble mien of the knight, who, with his spear in his hand, and wrapped in his dark mantle of mingledgreens, led the way, with a graceful but rapid step, along the shelvingdeclivity. Turning suddenly to the left, he struck into a defilebetween two prodigious craggy mountains, whose brown cheeks, tricklingwith ten thousand mountains, whose brown cheeks, trickling with tenthousand rills, seemed to weep over the deep gloom of the valleybeneath. Scattered fragments of rock from the cliffs above coveredwith their huge and almost impassable masses the surface of the ground. Not an herb was to be seen; all was black, barren, and terrific. Onentering this horrid pass, Helen would have shuddered, had she notplaced implicit confidence in her conductor. 

As they advanced, the vale gradually narrowed, and at last shut themwithin an immense chasm, which seemed to have been cleft at itstowering summit, to admit a few beams of light to the desert below. Adark river flowed along, amid which the bases of the mountains showedtheir union by the mingling of many a rugged cliff, projecting upwardin a variety of strange and hideous forms. The men who carried Helen, with some difficulty found a safe footing. However, after frequentrests, and unremitted caution, they at last extricated themselves fromthe most intricate path, and more lightly followed their chief into aless gloomy part of this chaos of nature. The knight stopped, andapproaching the bier, told Helen they had arrived at the end of theirjourney. 

"In the heart of that cliff, " said he, "is the hermit's cell; adesolate shelter, but a safe one. Old age and poverty hold notemptations to the enemies of Scotland. "

As he spoke the venerable man, who had heard voices beneath, appearedon the rock; and while his tall and majestic figure, clad in gray, moved forward, and his silver beard flowed from his saintly countenanceupon the air, he seemed the bard of Morven, issuing from his cave ofshells to bid a hero's welcome to the young and warlike Oscar. 

"Bless thee, my son, " cried he, as he descended; "what good or evilaccident hath returned thee so soon to these solitudes?"

The knight briefly related the circumstances of Helen's rescue, andthat he had brought her to share his asylum. 

The hermit took her by the hand, and graciously promised her everyservice in his power. He then preceded the knight, whose firmer armsupported her up the rock, to the outer apartment of the cell. 

A sacred awe struck her as she entered this place, dedicated wholly toGod. She bowed, and crossed herself. The hermit, observing herdevotion, blessed her, and bade her welcome to the abode of peace. 

"Here, daughter, " said he, "has one son of persecuted Scotland found arefuge. There is naught alluring in these wilds to attract thespoiler. The green herb is all the food they afford, and the limpidwater their best beverage. "

"Ah!" returned Helen, with grateful animation, "would to Heaven thatall who love the freedom of Scotland were now within this glen! Theherb and the stream would be luxuries when tasted in liberty and hope. My father, his friend-" she stopped, recollecting that she had almostbetrayed the secrecy she meant to maintain, and looking down, remainedin confused silence. The knight gazed at her, and much wished topenetrate what she concealed, but delicacy forbade him to urge heragain. He spoke not; but the hermit, ignorant of her reluctance toreveal her family, resumed:

"I do not wonder, gentle lady, that you speak in terms which tell meeven your tender sex feels the tyranny of Edward. Who in Scotland isexempt? The whole country groans beneath his oppressions, and thecruelty of his agents makes its rivulets run with blood. Six monthsago I was Abbot of Scone. Because I refused to betray my trust, andresign the archives of the kingdom lodged there, Edward, therebel-anointed of the Lord! the profaner of the sanctuary! sent hisemissaries to sack the convent, to tear the holy pillow of Jacob fromits shrine, and to wrest from my grasp the records I refused todeliver. All was done as the usurper commanded. Most of my brethrenwere slain. Myself and the remainder were turned out upon the waste. We retired to the Monastery of Cambuskenneth; but there oppressionfound us. Cressingham, having seized on other religious houses, determined to swell his hoards with the plunder of that also. In thedead of night the attack was made. My brethren fled; I knew notwhither to go; but, determined to fly far from the tracts of ourravagers, I took my course over the hills, and finding the valley ofstones fit for my purpose, for two months have lived alone in thiswilderness. "

"Unhappy Scotland!" ejaculated Helen. Her eyes had followed the chief, who, during this narrative, leaned thoughtfully against the entrance ofthe cave. His eyes were cast upward with an expression that made herheart utter the exclamation which had escaped her. 

The knight turned and approached her. "You hear from the lips of myvenerable friend, " said he, "a direful story; happy then am I, gentlelady, that you and he have found a refuge, though a rough one. I mustnow tear myself from this tranquillity to seek scenes more befitting ayounger son of the country he deplores. "

Helen felt unable to answer. But the abbot spoke; "And am I not to seeyou again?"

"That is as Heaven wills, " replied he; "but as it is unlikely on thisside the grave, my best pledge of friendship is this lady. To you shemay reveal what she had withheld from me; but in either case, she issecure in your goodness. "

"Rely on my faith, my son; and may the Almighty's shield hang on yoursteps!"

The knight turned to Helen. "Farewell, sweet lady!" said he. Shetrembled at the words, and, hardly conscious of what she did, held outher hand to him. He took it, and drew it toward his lips, but checkinghimself, he only pressed it, while in a mournful voice he added, "inyour prayer, sometimes remember the most desolate of men!"

A mist seemed to pass over the eyes of Lady Helen. She felt as if onthe point of losing something most precious to her. "My prayers for myown preserver, and for my father's, " cried she, in an agitated voice, "shall ever be mingled. And, if ever it be safe to remember me-shouldHeaven indeed arm the patriot's hand-then my father may be proud toknow and to thank the brave deliverer of his child. "

The knight paused, and looked with animation upon her. "Then yourfather is in arms, and against the tyrant! Tell me where, and you seebefore you a man who is ready to join him, and to lay down his life inthe just cause!"

At this vehement declaration, Lady Helen's full heart overflowed, andshe burst into tears. He drew toward her, and in a moderated voicecontinued: "My men, though few, are brave. They are devoted to theircountry, and are willing for her sake to follow me to victory or todeath. As I am a knight, I am sworn to defend the cause of right; andwhere shall I so justly find it, as on the side of bleeding, wastedScotland? How shall I so well pursue my career as in the defense ofher injured sons? Speak, gentle lady! trust me with your noblefather's name, and he shall not have cause to blame the confidence yourepose in a true though wandering Scot!"

"My father, " replied Helen, weeping afresh, "is not where your generousservices can reach him. Two brave chiefs, one a kinsman of my own, andthe other his friend, are now colleagued to free him. If they fail, mywhole house falls in blood! and to add another victim to the destinywhich in that case will overwhelm me-the thought is beyond mystrength. " Faint with agitation, and the horrible images whichreawakened her direst fears, she stopped; and then added in asuppressed voice, "Farewell!"

"Not till you hear me further, " replied he. "I repeat I have now ascanty number of followers; but I leave these mountains to gather more. Tell me, then, where I may join these chiefs you speak of. Give me apledge that I come from you; and whoever may be your father, as he is atrue Scot, I will compass his release, or perish in the attempt. "

"Alas! generous stranger, " cried she, "to what would you persuade me?You know not the peril that you seek!"

"Nothing is perilous to me, " replied he, with an heroic smile, "that isto serve my country. I have no interest, no joy but in her. Give me, then, the only happiness of which I am now capable, and send me toserve her, by freeing one of her defenders!"

Helen hesitated. The tumult of her mind dried her tears. She lookedup, with all these inward agitations painted on her cheeks. Hisbeaming eyes were full of patriotic ardor; and his fine countenance, composed into a heavenly calmness by the sublime sentiments whichoccupied his soul, made him appear to her not a as man, but as an angelfrom the armed host of heaven. 

"Fear not, lady, " said the hermit, "that you would plunge yourdeliverer into any extraordinary danger by involving him in what youmight call rebellion against the usurper. He is already a proscribedman. "

"Proscribed!" repeated she; "wretched indeed is my country when hernoblest spirits are denied the right to live!-when every step they taketo regain what has been torn from them, only involves them in deeperruin!"

"No country is wretched, sweet lady, " returned the knight, "till, by adastardly acquiescence, it consents to its own slavery. Bonds, anddeath, are the utmost of our enemy's malice; the one is beyond hispower to inflict, when a man is determined to die or to live free; andfor the other, which of us will think that ruin, which leads to theblessed freedom of paradise?"

Helen looked on the chief as she used to look on her cousin, whenexpressions of virtuous enthusiasm burst from his lips; but now it wasrather with the gaze of admiring awe than the exhultation of oneyouthful mind sympathizing with another. "You would teach confidenceto Despair herself, " returned she; "again I hope; for God does notcreate in vain! You shall know every danger with which that knowledgeis surrounded. He is hemmed in by enemies. Alas, how closely are theyconnected with him! Not the English only, but the most powerful of hiscountrymen are leagues against him. They sold my father to captivity, and, perhaps, to death; and I, wretched I, was the price. To free him, the noblest of Scottish knights is now engaged; but such hosts impedehim, that hope hardly dares hover over his tremendous path. "

"Then, " cried the stranger, "let my arm be second to his in the greatachievement. My heart yearns to meet a brother in arms who feels forScotland what I do; and with such a coadjutor, I dare promise yourfather liberty, and that the power of England shall be shaken. "

Helen's heart beat violently at these words. "I would not defer theunion of two such minds. Go, then, to the Cartlane Craigs. But, alas!how can I direct you?" cried she. "The passes are beset with English;and I know not whether at this moment the brave Wallace survives, to beagain the deliverer of my father!"

Helen paused. The recollection of all that Wallace had suffered forthe sake of her father, and of the mortal extremity in which Ker hadleft him, rose like a dreadful train of apparitions before her. A palehorror overspread her countenance; and lost in these remembrances, shedid not remark the start, and rushing color of the knight, as shepronounced the name of Wallace. 

"If Wallace ever had the happiness of serving any who belonged to you, "returned the knight, "he has at least one source of pleasure in thatremembrance. Tell me what he can further do. Only say, where is thatfather whom you say he once preserved, and I will hasten to yield myfeeble aid to repeat the service!"

"Alas!" replied Helen, "I cannot but repeat my fears that the bravestof men no longer exists. Two days before I was betrayed into the handsof the traitor from whom you rescued me, a messenger from CartlaneCraigs informed my cousin that the gallant Wallace was surrounded; andif my father did not send forces to relieve him, he must inevitablyperish. No forces could my father send; he was then made a prisoner bythe English; his retainers shared the same fate, and none but my cousinescaped, to accompany the honest Scotch back to his master. My cousinset forth with a few followers to join him-a few against thousands. "

"They are in arms for their country, lady, " returned the knight; "and athousand invisible angels guard them; fear not for them! But for yourfather; name to me the place of his confinement, and as I have not thebesiegers of Cartlane Craigs to encounter. I engage, with God's help, and the arms of my men (who never yet shrunk from sword or spear), toset the brave earl free!"

"How!" exclaimed Helen, remembering that she had not yet mentioned herfather's rank, and gazing at him with astonishment; "do you know hisname-is the misfortune of my father already so far spread?"

"Rather say his virtue, lady, " answered the knight; "no man who watchesover the destiny of our devoted country can be ignorant of her friends, or of the sufferers who bear injury for her sake. I know that the Earlof Mar has made himself a generous sacrifice, but I am yet to learn thecircumstances from you. Speak without reserve, that I may seek theaccomplishment of my vow, and restore to Scotland its best friend!"

"Thou brother in heart to the generous Wallace!" exclaimed Lady Helen, "my voice is too feeble to thank thee. " The hermit, who had listenedin silent interest, now, fearing the consequence of so much emotion, presented her with a cup of water and a little fruit, to refreshherself, before she satisfied the inquiries of the knight. She put thecup to her lips, to gratify the benevolence of her host, but heranxious spirit was too much occupied in the concerns dearest to herheart, to feel any wants of the body; and turning to the knight, shebriefly related what had been the design of her father with regard toSir William Wallace; how he had been seized at Bothwell, and sent withhis family a prisoner to Dumbarton Castle. 

"Proceed then thither, " continued she. "If Heaven have yet spared thelives of Wallace and my cousin, Andrew Murray, you will meet thembefore its walls. Meanwhile I shall seek the protection of my father'ssister, and in her castle near the Forth abide in safety. But, noblestranger, one bond I must lay upon you; should you come up with mycousin, do not discover that you have met with me. He is precipitatein resentment; and his hatred is so hot against Soulis, my betrayer, that should he know the outrage I have sustained he would, I fear, runhimself and the general cause into danger by seeking an immediaterevenge. "

The stranger readily passed his word to Helen that he would nevermention her name to any of her family until she herself should give himleave. "But when your father is restored to his rights, " continued he, "in his presence I hope to claim my acquaintance with his admirabledaughter. "

Helen blushed at this compliment-it was not more than any man in hissituation might have said, but it confused her; and hardly knowing whatwere her thoughts, she answered-"His personal freedom may be effected, and God grant such a regard to your prowess! But his other rights, what can recover them? His estates sequestrated, his vassals in bonds, all power of the Earl of Mar will be annihilated; and from some obscurerefuge like this, must he utter his thanks to his daughter's preserver. "

"Not so, lady, " replied he; "the sword is now raised in Scotland, thatcannot be laid down till it be broken or has conquered. All havesuffered by Edward; the powerful banished into other countries, thattheir wealth might reward foreign mercenaries; the poor driven into thewaste, that the meanest Southron might share the spoil! Where all havesuffered, all must be ready to avenge; and when a whole people take uparms to regain their rights, what force can prevent restitution? Godis with them!"

"So I felt, " returned Helen, "while I have not yet seen the horrors ofthe contest. While my father commanded in Bothwell Castle, and wassending out auxiliaries to the patriot chief, I too felt nothing butthe inspiration which led them on, and saw nothing but the victorywhich must crown so just a cause. But now, when all whom my fathercommanded are slain or carried away by the enemy, when he is himself aprisoner, and awaiting the sentence of the tyrant he opposed, when thegallant Wallace, instead of being able to hasten to his rescue, isbesieged by a numberless host, hope almost dies within me, and I fearthat whoever may be fated to free Scotland, my beloved father, andthose belonging to him are first to be made a sacrifice. "

She turned pale as she spoke, and the stranger resumed. "No, lady, ifthere be that virtue in Scotland which can alone deserve freedom, itwill be achieved. I am an inconsiderable man, but relying on the Godof Justice, I promise you your father's liberty; and let his freedom bea pledge to you for that of your country. I now go to rouse a fewbrave spirits to arms. Remember the battle is not to the strong, norvictory with a multitude of hosts! The banner** of St. Andrew was onceheld from the heavens, over a little band of Scots, while theydiscomfited a thousand enemies-the same arm leads me on; and, if needbe, I despair not to see it again, like the flaming pillar before theIsraelites, consuming the enemies of liberty, even in the fullness oftheir might. "

**At a time when Achaius King of Scotts, and Hungus King of Picts, werefiercely driven by Athelstan King of Northumberland into East Lothian, full of terrors of what the next morning might bring forth, Hungus fellinto a sleep, and beheld a vision, which, tradition tells, was verifiedthe ensuing day by the appearance of the cross of St. Andrew held outto him from the heavens, and waving him to victory. Under this bannerhe conquered the Northumberland forces, and slaying their leader, thescene of the battle has henceforth been called Atheistanford. -(1809. )

While he yet spoke, the hermit re-entered from the inner cell, supporting a youth on his arm. At sight of the knight, who held outhis hand to him, he dropped on his knees and burst into tears. "Do youthen leave me?" cried he; "am I not to serve my preserver?"

Helen rose in strange surprise; there was something in the feelings ofthe boy that was infectious; and while her own heart beat violently, she looked first on his emaciated figure, and then at the noble contourof the knight, "where every god had seemed to set his seal. " Hisbeaming eyes appeared the very fountains of consolation; his cheek wasbright with generous emotions; and turning from the supplant boy toHelen. "Rise, " said he to the youth, "and behold in this lady theobject of the service to which I appoint you. You will soon, I hope, be sufficiently recovered to attend upon her wishes as you would uponmine. Be her servant and her guard; and when we meet again, as shewill then be under the protection of her father, if you do not preferso gentle a service before the rougher one of war, I will resume you tomyself. "

The youth, who had obeyed the knight and risen, bowed respectfully; andHelen, uttering some incoherent words of thanks, to hide her agitationturned away. The hermit exclaimed, "Again, my son, I beseech Heaven tobless thee!"

"And may its guardian care shield all here!" replied the knight. Helenlooked up to bid him a last farewell-but he was gone. The hermit hadleft the cell with him, and the youth also had disappeared into theinner cave. Being left alone, she threw herself down before the altar, and giving way to a burst of tears, inwardly implored protection forthat brave knight's life; and by his means to grant safety to Wallace, and freedom to her father!

As she prayed, her emotion subsided and a holy confidence elevating hermind, she remained in an ecstasy of hope, till a solemn voice frombehind her called her from this happy trance. 

"Blessed are they which put their trust in God!"

She calmly rose, and perceived the hermit; who, on entering, hadobserved her devout position, and the spontaneous benediction brokefrom his lips. "Daughter, " said he, leading her to a seat, "this herowill prevail; for the Power before whose altar you have just knelt, hasdeclared, 'My might is with them who obey my laws, and put their trustin me!' You speak highly of the young and valiant Sir William Wallace, but I cannot conceive that he can be better formed for great and heroicdeeds than this chief. Suppose them, then, to be equal, when they havemet, with two such leaders, what may not a few determined Scotsperform?"

Helen sympathized with the cheering prognostications of the hermit; andwishing to learn the name of this rival of a character she had regardedas unparalleled, she asked, with a blush, by what title she must callthe knight who had undertaken so hazardous an enterprise for her. 

Chapter XVII. 

The Hermit's Cell. 

"I know not, " returned the hermit; "I never saw your gallant delivererbefore yesterday morning. Broken from my matins by a sudden noise, Ibeheld a deer rush down the precipice, and fall headlong. As he laystruggling amongst the stones at the entrance of my cave, I had justobserved an arrow in his side, when a shout issued from the rocksabove, and looking up, I beheld a young chieftain, with a bow in hishand, leaping from cliff to cliff, till springing from a highprojection on the right, he alighted at once at the head of the woundeddeer. 

"I emerged from the recess that concealed me, and addressed him withthe benediction of the morning. His plaided followers immediatelyappeared, and with a stroke of their ready weapons slew the animal. The chief left them to dress it for their own refreshment; and on myinvitation, entered the cell to share a hermit's fare. 

"I told him who I was, and what had driven me to this seclusion. Inreturn, he informed me of a design he had conceived, to stimulate thesurrounding chiefs to some exertions for their country; but as he nevermentioned his name, I concluded he wished it to remain unrevealed, andtherefore I forbore to inquire it. I imparted to him my doubts of thepossibility of any single individual being able to arouse theslumbering courage of thoughts. The arguments he means to use are fewand conclusive. They are these: The perfidy of King Edward, who, deemed a prince of high honor, had been chosen umpire in the cause ofBruce and Baliol. He accepted the task, in the character of a friendto Scotland; but no sooner was he advanced into the heart of ourkingdom, and at the head of the large army he had treacherouslyintroduced as a mere appendage of state, than he declared the act ofjudgement was his right as liege lord of the realm! This falsehood, which our records disproved at the outset, was not his only baseness;he bought the conscience of Baliol, and adjudged to him the throne. The recreant prince acknowledged him his master; and in that degradingceremony of homage, he was followed by almost all the lowland Scottishlords. But this vile yielding did not purchase them peace: Edwarddemanded oppressive services from the king, and the castles of thenobility to be resigned to English governors. These requisitions beingremonstrated against by a few of our boldest chiefs (amongst whom, yourillustrious father, gentle lady, stood the most conspicuous), thetyrant repeated them with additional demands, and prepared to resentthe appeal on the whole nation. 

"Three months have hardly elapsed since the fatal battle of Dunbar, where, indignant at the accumulated outrages committed on their passivemonarch, our irritated nobles at last rose, but too late, to asserttheir rights. Alas! one defeat drove them to despair. Baliol wastaken, and themselves obliged to again swear fealty to their enemy. Then came the seizure of the treasures of our monasteries, the burningof the national records, the sequestration of our property, thebanishment of our chiefs, the violation of our women, and the slaveryor murder of the poor people yoked to the land. 'The storm ofdesolation, thus raging over our country; how, ' cried the young warriorto me, 'can any of her sons shrink from the glory of again attemptingher restoration?' He then informed me that Earl de Warenne (whomEdward had left lord warden of Scotland), was taken ill, and retired toLondon, leaving Aymer de Valence to be his deputy. To this new tyrant, De Warenne has lately sent a host of mercenaries, to hold the south ofScotland in subjection; and to reinforce Cressingham and Ormsby, twonoted plunderers, who command northward, from Stirling to the shores ofSutherland. 

"With these representations of the conduct of our oppressors, the braveknight demonstrated the facility with which invaders, drunk with power, and gorged with rapine, could be vanquished by a resolute and hardypeople. The absence of Edward, who is now abroad, increases theprobability of success. The knight's design is to infuse his ownspirit into the bosoms of the chiefs in this part of the kingdom. Bytheir assistance, to seize the fortresses in the Lowlands, and so forma chain of repulsion against the admission of fresh troops fromEngland. Then, while other chiefs (to whom he means to apply) rise inthe Highlands, the Southron garrisons there, being unsupported bysupplies, must become an easy prey, and would yield men of consequence, to be exchanged for our countrymen, now prisoners in England. For thepresent, he wishes to be furnished with troops merely enough to takesome castle, of power sufficient to give confidence to his friends. Onhis becoming master of such a place, it should be the signal for all todeclare themselves; and, rising at once, overwhelm Edward's garrisonsin every part of Scotland. 

"This is the knight's plan; and for your sake, as well as for thecause. I hope the first fortress he gains may be that of Dumbarton. It has been always considered the key of the country. "

"May Heaven grant it, holy father, " returned Helen, "and whoever thisknight may be, I pray the blessed St. Andrew to guide his arms!"

"If I may venture to guess who he is, " replied the hermit, "I would saythat noble brow was formed to some day wear a crown. "

"What!" cried Helen, starting, "you think this knight is the royalBruce?"

"I am at a loss what to think, " replied the hermit; "he has a mostprincely air; and there is such an overflowing of soul toward hiscountry, when he speaks of it, that--Such love can spring from no otherthan the royal heart, created to foster and to bless it. "

"But is he not too young?" inquired Helen. "I have heard my father saythat Bruce, Lord of Annandale, the opponent of Baliol for the crown, was much his senior; and that his son, the Earl of Carrick, must be nowfifty years of age. This knight, if I am any judge of looks, cannot betwenty-five. "

"True, " answered the hermit; "and yet he may be a Bruce. For it isneither of the two you have mentioned that I mean; but the grandson ofthe one, and the son of the other. You may see by this silver beard, lady, that the winter of my life is far spent. The elder Bruce, Robert, Lord of Annandale, was my contemporary; we were boys together, and educated at the same college in Icolmkill. He was brave, andpassed his manhood in visiting different courts; at last, marrying alady of the princely house of Clare, he took her to France, andconfided his only son to be brought up under the renowned St. Louis. This young Robert took the cross while quite a youth; and carrying thebanner of the holy King of France to the plains of Palestine, coveredhimself with glory. In storming a Saracen fortress, he rescued theperson of Prince Edward of England. The horrible tyrant, who nowtramples on all laws, human and divine, was then in the bloom of youth, defending the cause of Christianity! Think on that, sweet lady, andmarvel at the changing power of ambition!

"From that hour a strict friendship subsisted between the two youngcrusaders; and when Edward mounted the throne of England, it being thenthe ally of Scotland, the old Earl of Annandale, to please his braveson, took up his residence at the English court. When the male issueof our King David failed in the untimely death of Alexander III. , thencame the contention between Bruce and Baliol for the vacant crown. Ourmost venerable chiefs, the guardians of our laws, and the witnesses ofthe parliamentary settlement made on the house of Bruce during thereign of the late king, all declared for Lord Annandale. He was notonly the male heir in propinquity of blood, but his experienced yearsand known virtues excited all true Scots to place him on the throne. 

"Meanwhile Edward, forgetting friendship to his friend, and fidelity toa faithful ally, was undermining the interest of Bruce, and the peaceof the kingdom. Inferior rivals to our favorite to our favorite princewere soon discountenanced; but by covert ways, with bribes andpromises, the King of England raised such a opposition on the side ofBaliol, as threatened a civil war. Secure in his right, and averse toplunging his country in blood, Bruce easily fell in with a proposalinsidiously hinted to him by one of Edward's creatures-'to require thatmonarch to be umpire between him and Baliol. ' Then it was that Edward, after soliciting the requisition as an honor to be conferred on him, declared it was his right as supreme lord of Scotland. The Earl ofAnnandale refused to acknowledge this assumption. Baliol bowed to it;and for such obedience, the unrighteous judge gave him the crown. Bruce absolutely refused to acknowledge the justice of this decision;and so to avoid the power of the king who had betrayed his rights, andthe jealousy of the other who had usurped them, he immediately left thescene of action, going over seas, to join his son, who had been cajoledaway to Paris. But, alas! he died on the road of a broken heart. 

"When his son Robert (who was Earl of Carrick in right of his wife)returned to Britain, he, like his father, disdained to acknowledgeBaliol as king. But being more incensed at his successful rival, thanat the treachery of his false friend Edward, he believed his glossingspeeches; and-by what infatuation I cannot tell-established hisresidence at the monarch's court. This forgetfulness of his royalblood, and of the independence of Scotland, has nearly obliterated himfrom every Scottish heart; for, when we look at Bruce the courtier, wecease to remember Bruce the descendant of St. David-Bruce the valiantknight of the Cross, who bled for true liberty before the walls ofJerusalem. 

"His eldest son may be now about the age of the young knight who hasjust left us; and when I look on his royal port, and listen to thepatriotic fervors of his royal soul, I cannot but think that the spiritof his noble grandsire has revived in his breast, and that, leaving hisindolent father to the vassal luxuries of Edward's palace, he is comehither in secret, to arouse Scotland, and to assert his claim. "

"It is very likely, " rejoined Helen, deeply sighing; "and may Heavenreward his virtue with the crown of his ancestors. "

"To that end, " replied the Hermit, "shall my hands be lifted up inprayer day and night. May I, O gracious Power!" cried he, lookingupward, and pressing the cross to his breast, "live but to see thathero victorious, and Scotland free, and then 'let thy servant depart inpeace, since mine eyes will have seen her salvation!'"

"Her salvation, father?" said Helen, timidly. "Is not that too sacreda word to apply to anything, however dear, that relates to earth?"

She blushed as she spoke; and fearful of having too daringly objected, looked down as she awaited his answer. The hermit observed herattentively; and, with a benign smile, replied, "Earth and heaven arethe work of the Creator. He careth alike for angel and for man; andtherefore nothing that he has made is too mean to be the object of hissalvation. The word is comprehensive; in one sense it may signify ourredemption from sin and death by the coming of the Lord of Life intothis world; and in another, it intimates the different means b whichProvidence decrees the ultimate happiness of men. Happiness can onlybe found in virtue; virtue cannot exit without liberty; and the seat ofliberty is good laws! Hence when Scotland is again made free, thebonds of the tyrant who corrupts her principles with temptations, orcompels her to iniquity by threats, are broken. Again the honestpeasant may cultivate his lands in security, the liberal hand feed thehungry, and industry spread smiling plenty through all ranks; every manto whom his Maker hath given talents, let them be one or five, mayapply them to their use; and, by eating the bread of peaceful labor, rear families to virtuous action and the worship of God. The nobles, meanwhile, looking alone to the legislation of Heaven and to the lawsof Scotland, which alike demand justice and mercy from all, will livethe fathers of their country, teaching her brave sons that the onlyhomage which does not debase a man, is that which he pays to virtue andto God. 

"This it is to be free; this it is to be virtuous; this it is to behappy; this it is to live the life of righteousness, and to die in thehope of immortal glory. Say then, dear daughter, if, in praying forthe liberty of Scotland, I said too much in calling it her salvation?"

"Forgive me, father, " cried Helen, overcome with shame at havingquestioned him. 

"Forgive you what?" returned he. "I love the holy zeal which isjealous of allowing objects, dear even to your wishes, to encroach onthe sanctuary of heaven. Be ever thus, meek child of the church, andno human idol will be able to usurp that part of your virgin heartwhich belongs to God. "

Helen blushed. 

"My heart, reverend father, " returned she, "has but one wish-theliberty of Scotland; and, with that, the safety of my father and hisbrave deliverers. "

"Sir William Wallace I never have seen, " rejoined the hermit; "but, when he was quite a youth, I heard of his graceful victories in themimic war of the jousts at Berwick, when Edward first marched into thiscountry under the mask of friendship. From what you have said, I donot doubt his being a worthy supporter of Bruce. However, deardaughter, as it is only a suspicion of mine that this knight is thatyoung prince, for his safety, and for the sake of the cause, we mustnot let that name escape our lips; no, not even to your relations whenyou rejoin them, nor to the youth whom his humanity put under myprotection. Till he reveals his own secret, for us to divulge it wouldbe folly and dishonor. "

Helen bowed acquiescence; and the hermit proceeded to inform her whothe youth was whom the stranger had left to be her page. 

In addition to what the knight had himself told her of Walter Hay, theunfortunate shepherd boy of the ruined hut, her venerable host narratedthat the young warrior having quitted the holy cell after his firstappearance there, soon returned with the wounded youth, whom he hadfound. He committed him to the care of the hermit, promising torevisit him on his way from the south, and take the recovered Walterunder his own protection. "He then left us, " continued the old man, "but soon reappeared with you; showing, in the strongest language, thathe who, in spite of every danger, succors the sons and daughters ofviolated Scotland, is proclaimed by the Spirit of Heaven to be herfuture deliverer and king. "

As he ended speaking, he rose; and taking Helen by the hand, led herinto an inner excavation of the rock, where a bed of dried leaves layon the ground. "Here, gentle lady, " said he, "I leave you to repose. In the evening I expect a lay brother from St. Oran's Monastery, and hewill be your messenger to the friends you may wish to rejoin. Atpresent, may gentlest seraphs guard your slumbers!"

Helen, fatigued in spirit and in body, thanked the good hermit for hiscare; and bowing to his blessing, he left her to repose. 

Chapter XVIII. 

Cartlane Craigs, and Glenfinlass. 

Guided by Ker, Murray led his followers over the Lanark Hills, by themost untrodden paths; and hence avoided even the sight of a Southronsoldier. 

Cheered by so favourable a commencement of their expedition, they evenfelt no dismay when, in the gloom of the evening, Ker descried a bodyof armed men at a distance, sitting round a fire at the foot of abeetling rock which guards the western entrance to the Cartlane Craigs. Murray ordered his men to proceed under covert of the bushes; and thenmaking the signal (concerted in case of such dilemma), they stuck theiriron crows into the interstices of the cliff, and catching at thebranches which grew out of its precipitous side, with much exertion, but in perfect silence, at last gained the summit. That effected, theypursued their way with the same caution, till after a long march, andwithout encountering a human being, they reached the base of the hugerock which Wallace had made his fortress. 

Ker, who expected to find it surrounded by the English army, was amazedat the deathlike solitude. "The place is deserted, " cried he. "Mybrave friend, compelled by the extremity of his little garrison, hasbeen obliged to surrender. "

"We will ascend and see, " was Murray's answer. 

Ker led round the rock to the most accessible point; and, mounting bythe projecting stones, with some difficulty gained the top. Silencepervaded every part; and the rugged cavities at the summit, which hadformed the temporary quarters of his comrades, were lonely. Onentering the recess where Wallace used to seek a few minutes' slumber, the moon, which shone full into the cave, discovered something brightlying in a distant corner. Ker hastily approached it, recollectingwhat means of escape, he would leave some weapon as a sign; a dagger, if necessity drove him to the south point, where he must fight his waythrough the valley; an arrow, if he could effect it withoutobservation, by the north, as he should then seek an asylum for hisexhausted followers in the far-of wilds of Glenfinlass. 

It was the iron head of an arrow which the moon had silvered; and Ker, catching it up, with a gladdened countenance exclaimed, "He is safe!this calls us to Glenfinlass. " He then explained to Murray what hadbeen the arrangement of Wallace respecting this sign, and withouthesitation the young lord decided to follow him up that track. 

Turning toward the northern part of the cliff, they came to spotbeneath which had been the strongest guard of the enemy, but now, likethe rest, it was entirely abandoned. A narrow winding path led fromthis rocky platform to a fall of water, rearing and rushing by themouth of a large cavern. After they had descended the main craig, theyclambered over the top of this cave, and, entering upon another sweepof rugged hills, commenced a rapid march. 

Traversing the lower part of Stirlingshire, they crossed Graham'sDike;** and pursuing their course westward, left Stirling Castle far tothe right. They ascended the Ochil Hills, and proceeding along thewooded heights which overhang the banks of Teith, forded that river, and entered at once into the broad valley which opened to them adistant view of Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi. 

**The great wall of Severus, which runs between Abercorn andKirkpatrick, being attacked by the Scotts at the time the Romansabandoned Britain, a huge breach was made in it by Graham (or Greame), the uncle of the young king of Scots. By this achievement he conqueredthe whole of the country as far as the Cheviots, and the wall ofSeverus has since been called Graham's Dike-(1809. )

"There, " exclaimed Ker, extending his hand toward the cloud-cappedLedi, "beneath the shadow of that mountain, we shall find the light ofScotland, our dear master in arms!"

At this intimation, the wearied Murrays-like seamen long harassed on atempestuous ocean at sight of a port-uttered a shout of joy; andhastening forward with renovated strength, met a foaming river in theirpath. Despising all obstacles, they rushed in, and, buffeting thewaves, soon found a firm footing on the opposite shore. The sun shonecheerily above their heads, illuminating the umbrageous sides of themountains with a dewy splendor, while Ben Ledi, the standard of theirhope, seemed to wave them on, as the white clouds streamed from itssummit, or, rolling down its dark sides, floated in strange visionaryshapes over the lakes beneath. 

When the little troop halted on the shore of Loch Venachoir, the mistswhich had lingered on the brow of Ledi slowly descended into thevalley; and covering the mouth of the pass that led from the loch, seemed to shut them at once between the mountain and that world ofwaters. Ker, who had never been in these tracks before, wondered attheir sublimity, and became alarmed lest they should lose their wayamid such infinite windings. But Murray, who remembered having onceexplored them with his father, led promptly forward by a steep, roughroad in the side of the mountain. As they clung by the slippery rockswhich overhung the lake, its mists dissolved into a heavy shower, and, by degrees clearing away, discovered the shining heads of Ben Lomondand Ben Chochan. 

The party soon entered a precipitous labyrinth of craigs; and, passingonward, gradually descended amid pouring torrents, and gaping chasmsoverlaced with branching trees, till the augmented roar of watersintimated to Murray, they drew near the great fall of Glenfinlass. Theriver, though rushing on its course with the noise of thunder, wasscarcely discerned through the thick forest which groaned over itswaves. Here towered a host of stately pines; and there the loftybeeches, birches, and mountain-oak, bending over the flood, interwovetheir giant arms; forming an arch so impenetrable, that while the sunbrightened the tops of the mountains, all beneath lay in deepestmidnight. 

The awful entrance to this sublime valley struck the whole party with afeeling that made them pause. It seemed as it to these sacredsolitudes, hidden in the very bosom of Scotland, no hostile foot daredintrude. Murray looked at Ker. "We go, my friend, to arouse thegenius of our country! Here are the native fastnesses of Scotland; andfrom this pass the spirit will issue that is to bid her enslaved sonsand daughters be free. "

They entered, and with beating hearts pursued their way along thewestern border of Loch Lubnaig, till the royal heights ofCraignacoheilg showed their summits, covered with heath and many anivied turret. The forest, stretching far over the valley, lost itshigh trees in the shadows of the surrounding mountains, and told themthey were now in the center of Glenfinlass. 

Ker put his bugle to his lips, and sounded the pibroch of Ellerslie. Athousand echoes returned the notes; and after a pause, which allowedtheir last response to die away, the air was answered by a horn fromthe heights of Cragnacoheilg. An armed man then appeared on the rock, leaning forward. Ker drew near, and taking off his bonnet, calledaloud: "Stephen! it is William Ker who speaks. I come with the LordAndrew Murray of Bothwell, to the support of our commander, Sir WilliamWallace. "

At these words, Stephen placed his bugle to his mouth, and in a fewminutes the rock was covered with the members of its little garrison. Women and children appeared, shouting with joy; and the men, descendingthe side near the glen, hastened to bid their comrade welcome. Oneadvanced toward Murray, whom he instantly recognized to be Sir RogerKirkpatrick of Torthorald. The chiefs saluted each other; and LordAndrew pointed to his men: "I have brought, " said he, "these few bravefellows to the aid of Sir William Wallace. They should have been more, but for new events of Southron outrage. Yet I am impatient to leadthem to the presence of my uncle's preserver. "

Kirkpatrick's answer disappointed the eager spirit of the youngwarrior: "I am sorry, brave Murray, that you have no better knight toreceive you than myself. I and the gallant chief have not yet met; butI am in arms for him; and the hour of retribution for all our injuries, I trust, is at hand. "

"But where is Sir William Wallace?" demanded Murray. 

"Gone toward the Forth, to rouse that part of sleeping Scotland. Ifall he meet have my spirit, they will not require a second call. Nowis the time to aim the blow; I shall ever give thanks to the accidentwhich brought me the welcome news, that an arm is raised to strike ithome. "

As he spoke, he led Murray to the rampart-like cliffs which crown thesummit of Craignacoheilg. In the midst stood a tower, which had oncebeen a favorite hunting-lodge of the great King Fergus. ThereKirkpatrick joyfully greeted his guest a second time: "This, " said he, "is the far-famed lodge of the three kings: here did our lion, Fergus, attended by his royal allies, Durstus the Pict, and Dionethus theBriton, spread his board during their huntings in Glenfinlass! Andhere eight hundred years ago, did the same heroic prince form the planswhich saved his kingdom from a foreign yoke! On the same spot we willlay ours; and in their completion, rescue Scotland from a tyranny moreintolerable than that which menaced him. Yes, Murray; there is not astone in this building that does not call aloud to us to draw thesword, and hold it unsheathed till our country be free. "

"And by the ghost of that same Fergus, I swear, " exclaimed Murray, "that my honest claymore shall never shroud its head while an invaderbe left alive in Scotland. "

Kirkpatrick caught him in his arms. "Brave son of the noble Bothwell, thou art after mine own heart! The blow which the dastard Cressinghamdurst aim at a Scottish chief, still smarts upon my cheek; and riversof his countrymen's blood shall wash out the stain. After I had beenpersuaded by his serpent eloquence to swear fealty to Edward on thedefeat at Dunbar, I vainly thought that Scotland had only changed aweak and unfortunate prince for a wise and victorious king; but when inthe courts of Stirling, I heard Cressingham propose to the barons northof the dike, that they should give their strongest castles into Englishhands; when I opposed the measure with all the indignation of a Scotwho saw himself betrayed, he first tried to overturn my arguments, andfinding that impossible, while I repeated them with redoubled force-hestruck me!-Powers of earth and heaven, what was then the tempest of mysoul!-I drew my sword-I would have laid him dead at my feet, had not myobsequious countrymen held my arm, and dragged me from the apartment. 

"Covered with dishonor by a blow I could not avenge. I fled to mybrother-in-law, Sir John Scott, of Loch Doine. With him I buried myinjury from the world; but it lived in my heart-it haunted me day andnight, calling for revenge. 

"In such an hour, how did I receive the tidings, that Sir WilliamWallace was in arms against the tyrant! It was the voice ofretribution, calling me to peace of mind! Even my bedridden kinsmanpartook my emotions; and with his zealous concurrence, I led a band ofhis hardiest clansmen, to reinforce the brave men of Lanark on thisrock. 

"Two days I have now been here, awaiting in anxious impatience thearrival of Wallace. Yes! we will mingle our injured souls together!He has made one offering; I must make another! We shall set forth toStirling; and there, in the very heart of his den, I will sacrifice thetiger Cressingham, to the vengeance of our wrongs. "

"But what, my brave friend, " asked Murray, "are the forces you deemsufficient for so great an enterprise? How many fighting men may becounted of Wallace's own company, besides your own?"

"We have here about a hundred, " replied Kirkpatrick, "including yours. "

"How inadequate to storm so formidable a place as Stirling Castle!"returned Murray. "Having, indeed, passed the Rubicon, we must goforward, but resolution, not rashness, should be the principle of ouractions. And my opinion is, that a few minor advantages obtained, ourcountrymen would flock to our standard, the enemy would be intimidated, and we should carry thousands, instead of hundreds, before the walls ofStirling. To attempt it now would invite defeat, and bring upon us theruin of our entire project. "

"You are right, young man, " cried Kirkpatrick; "my gray head, renderedimpetuous by insult, did not pause on the blind temerity of my scheme. I would rather for years watch the opportunity of taking a signalrevenge than not accomplish it at last. Oh! I would rather waste allmy life in these solitary wilds and know that at the close of it Ishould see the blood of Cressingham on these hands than live a princeand die unrevenged!"

Stephen and Ker now entered; the latter paid his respects to Sir Roger, and the former informed Murray that having disposed his presentfollowers with those who had arrived before, he was come to lead theirlord to some refreshment in the banqueting room of the tower. "What?"cried Murray, full of glad amazement; "is it possible that my cousin'sfaithful band has reached its destination? None other belonging toBothwell Castle had any chance of escaping its jailer's hands. "

Kirkpatrick interrupted Stephen's reply by saying that while theirguests were at the board he would watch the arrival of certainexpresses from two brave Drummonds, each of whom was to send him ahundred men: "So, my good Lord Andrew, " cried he, striking him on theshoulder, "shall the snow-launch gather that is to fall on Edward tohis destruction. "

Murray heartily shared his zeal, and bidding him a short adieu, followed Stephen and Ker into the hall. A haunch of venison ofGlenfinlass smoked on the board, and goblets of wine from the bounteouscellars of Sir John Scott brightened the hopes which glowed in everyheart. 

While the young chieftains were recruiting their exhausted strength, Stephen sat at the table to satisfy the anxiety of Murray to know howthe detachment from Bothwell had come to Craignacoheilg, and by whatfortunate occurrence, or signal act of bravery, Wallace could haveescaped with his whole train from the foe surrounding Cartlane Craigs. 

"Heaven smiled on us!" replied Stephen. "The very evening of the dayon which Ker left us there was a carousal in the English camp. Weheard the sound of the song and of riot, and of many an insult castupon our besieged selves. But about an hour after sunset the noisesunk by degrees-a no insufficient hint that the revelers, overcome byexcess, had fallen asleep. At this very time, owing to the heat of theday, so great a vapor had been exhaled from the lake beneath that thewhole of the northern side of the fortress cliff was covered with amist so exceedingly thick we could not discern each other at a foot'sdistance. 'Now is the moment!' said our gallant leader; 'the enemy arestupefied with wine, the rock is clothed in a veil!-it is the shield ofGod that is held before us! under its shelter let us pass from theirhands!"

"He called us together, and making the proper dispositions, commandedthe children and women, on their lives, to keep silence. He then ledus to the top of the northern cliff; it overhung an obscure cave whichhe knew opened at its extremity. By the assistance of a rope, heldabove by several men, our resolute chief (twisting it round one arm tosteady him, and with the other catching by the projecting stones of theprecipice) made his way down the rock, and was the first who descended. He stood at the bottom, enveloped in the cloud which shrouded themountain, till all the men of the first division had cleared theheight; he then marshaled them with their pikes toward the foe, in caseof an alarm. But all remained quiet on that spot, although the soundsof voices, both in song and laughter, intimated that the utmostprecaution was still necessary, as a wakeful and yet reveling part ofthe enemy were not far distant. 

"Wallace reascended the rock half way; and receiving the children, which their trembling mothers lowered into this arms, he handed them tothe old men, who carried them safely through the bushes which obscuredthe cave's mouth. The rest of our little garrison soon followed; thenour sentinels, receiving the signal that all were safe, drew silentlyfrom their guard, and closed our march through the cavern. 

"This effected, we blocked up its egressing mouth, that, should ourescape be discovered, the enemy might not find the direct road we hadtaken. 

"We pursued our course without stop or stay till we reached thehospitable valleys of Stirlingshire. There some king shepherds gavethe woman and children temporary shelter; and Wallace, seeing that ifanything were to be done for Scotland, he must swell the host, put thepart under my guidance, giving me orders that when they were rested Ishould march them to Glenfinlass, here to await his return. Selectingten men, with that small band he turned toward the Forth, hoping tomeet some valiant friends in that part of the country read to embraceher cause. 

"He had hardly been an hour departed when Dugald observed a processionof monks descending the opposite mountain. They drew near and haltedin the glen. A crowd of women from the neighboring hills had followedthe train, and were now gathering around a bier which the monks setdown. I know not by what happy fortune I came close to the leader ofthe procession, but he saw something in my old rough features thatdeclared me an honest Scot. 'Friend, ' whispered he, 'for charityconduct us to some safe place where we may withdraw this bier from thesacrilegious eye of curiosity. '

"I made no hesitation, but desired the train to follow me into a byrebelonging to the good shepherd who was my host. On this motion thecommon people went away, and the monks entered the place. 

"When the travelers threw up their hoods, which as mourners they hadworn over their faces, I could not help exclaiming, 'Alas, for theglory of Scotland, that this goodly group of stout young men ratherwear the cowl than the helmet!' 'How!' asked their principal (who didnot appear to have seen thirty years), 'do we not pray for the glory ofScotland? Such is our weapon. ' 'True, ' replied I, 'but while Mosesprayed Joshua fought. God gives the means of glory that they should beused. ' 'But for what, old veteran, ' said the monk, with a penetratinglook, 'should we exchange our cowl for the helmet? knowest thouanything of the Joshua who would lead us to the field?' There wassomething in the young priest's eyes that seemed to contradict hispacific words; they flashed as impetuous fire. My reply was short:'Are you a Scot?' 'I am, in soul and in arms. ' 'Then knowest thou notthe chief of Ellerslie?' As I spoke, for I stood close to the bier, Iperceived the pall shake. The monk answered my last question with anexclamation-'You mean Sir William Wallace!'

"'Yes!' I replied. The bier shook more violently at these words, and, with my hair bristling from my head, I saw the pall hastily thrown off, and a beautiful youth, in a shroud, started from it, crying aloud, 'Then is our pilgrimage at an end! Lead us to him!'

"The monk perceived my terror, and hastily exclaimed. 'Fear not! he isalive, and seeks Sir William Wallace. His pretended death was astratagem to insure our passage through the English army; for we aresoldiers like yourself. ' As he spoke, he opened his gray habit, andshowed me the mailed tartans beneath. "

"What, then!" interrupted Murray, "these monks were my faithfulclansmen?"

"The same, " replied Stephen; "I assured them that they might now resumetheir own character; for all who inhabited the valley we were then inwere true, though poor and aged Scots. The young had long been draftedby Edward's agents, to fight his battles abroad. 

"'Ah!' interrupted the shrouded youth, 'are we a people that can diefor the honor of this usurper, and are we ignorant how to do it for ourcountry? Lead us, soldier of Wallace, ' cried he, stepping resolutelyon the ground, 'lead us to your brave master; and tell him that a fewdetermined men are come to shed their blood for him and Scotland. '

"This astonishing youth (for he did not appear to be more than fifteen)stood before me in his robes of death, like the spirit of somebright-haired son of Fingal. I looked on him with admiration; andexplaining our situation, told him whither Wallace was gone, and of ourdestination to await him in the forest of Glenfinlass. 

"While your brave clansmen were refreshing themselves, we learned fromKenneth, their conductor, that the troop left Bothwell underexpectation of your soon following them. They had well underexpectation of our soon following them. They had not proceeded farbefore their scouts perceived the outposts of the English, whichsurrounded Cartlane Craigs; and to avoid this danger, they took acircuitous path, in hopes of finding some at the western side of thecraigs. Kenneth knew the abbot; and entering it under covert of thenight, obtained permission for his men to rest there. The youth, nowtheir companion, was a student in the church. He had been sent thitherby his mother, a pious lady, in the hope that, as he is of a verygentle nature, he would attach himself to the sacred tonsure. Butcourage often springs with most strength in the softest frames. 

"The moment this youth discovered our errand he tried every persuasionto prevail on the abbot to permit him to accompany us. But hisentreaties were vain, till wrought up to vehement anger he threatenedthat if he were prevented joining Sir William Wallace, he would takethe earliest opportunity to escape, and commit himself to the peril ofthe English pikes. 

"Seeing him determined the abbot granted his wish; 'and then it was, 'said Kenneth, 'that the youth seemed inspired. It was no longer anenthusiastic boy we saw before us, but an angel, gifted with wisdom todirect and enterprise to lead us. It was he proposed disguisingourselves as a funeral procession; and while he painted his bloomingcountenance of a death-like paleness and stretched himself on thisbier, the abbot sent to the English army to request permission for aparty of monks to cross the craigs to the cave of St. Colomba, inStirlingshire, whither they carried a dead brother to be entombed. Ouryoung leader hoped we might thus find an opportunity to apprise Wallacewe were friends, and ready to swell the ranks of his little armament. 

"'On our entrance into the passes of the craigs, ' continued Kenneth, 'the English captain there mentioned the fate of Bothwell, and thecaptivity of Lord Mar; and with very little courtesy to sons of thechurch, ordered the bier to be opened, to see whether it did reallycontain a corpse, or provisions for our besieged countrymen. We hadcertainly expected this investigation; else we might as well havewrapped the trunk of a tree in the shroud we carried as a human being. We knew that the superstitious hatred of the Southrons would not allowthem to touch a Scottish corpse, and therefore we feared no detectionfrom the eye's examination alone. This ceremony once over, we expectedto have passed on without further notice; and in that case the youthwould have left his pall, and performed the remainder of his journey ina similar disguise with the rest; but the strict watch of an Englishguard confined him wholly to the bier. In hopes of at last evadingthis vigilance, on pretense of a vow of the deceased that his bearersshould perform a pilgrimage throughout the craigs, we traversed them inevery direction; and, I make no doubt, would have finally wearied outour guard, and gained our point, had not the circumstance transpired ofWallace's escape. 

"'How he had effected it, his enemies could not guess. Not a man ofthe besiegers was missing from his post; and not an avenue appeared bywhich they could trace his flight: but gone he was, and with him hiswhole train. On this disappointment the Southron captains retired toGlasgow, to their commander-in-chief, to give as good an account asthey could of so disgraceful a termination of their siege. Dismayed atthis intelligence, our peculiar guard hurried us into Stirlingshire, and left us at the other side of the mountain. But even then we werenot free to release our charge, for, attracted by our procession, thecountry people followed us into the valley. Yet had we not met withyou, it was our design to throw off our disguises in the first place, and, divided into small bands, have severally sought Sir WilliamWallace. "

"But where, " demanded Murray, who had listened with delightedastonishment to this recital, "where is this admirable youth? Why, ifKenneth have learned I am arrived, does he not bring him to receive mythanks and friendship?"

"It is my fault, " returned Stephen, "that Kenneth will not approach youtill your repast is over. I left him to see your followers properlyrefreshed. And for the youth, he seems timid of appearing before you. Even his name I cannot make known to you till he reveals it himself:none know him here by any other name than that of Edwin. He has, however, granted tomorrow morning for the interview. "

"I must submit to his determination, " replied Murray; "but I am at aloss to guess why so brave a creature should hesitate to meet me. Ican only suppose he dislikes the idea of resigning the troop he has sowell conducted; and if so, I shall think it my duty to yield itscommand to him. "

"Indeed he richly deserves it, " returned Stephen; "for the very soul ofWallace seemed transfused into his breast, as he cheered us through ourlong march from the valley to Glenfinlass; he played with the children, heartened up the women; and when the men were weary, and lagged by theway, he sat down on the nearest stones, and sung to us legends of ourancestors, till every nerve was braced with warlike emulation, andstarting up, we proceeded onward with resolution and even gayety. 

"When we arrived at Craignacoheilg, as the women were in great want, Isuddenly recollected that I had an old friend in the neighborhood. When a boy, I had been the playfellow of Sir John Scott of Loch Doine;and though I understood him to be now an invalid, I went to him. WhenI told my tale, his brother-in-law, Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, took fire atmy relation, and declared his determination to accompany me toCraignacoheilg; and when he joined our band on the summit of this rock, he took the children in his arms, and while he held their hands in his, vehemently addressed their mothers, 'Let not these hands be baptized, **till they had been washed in the blood of our foe. Mercy belongs notto the enemy, now doomed to fall beneath their father's swords!'"

**It was a custom with Scottish chiefs when any feud existed betweentheir families, to leave the right hand of their children untouched bythe holy water in baptism, as a sign that no law, even of Heaven, should prevent them taking revenge. 

"It is, indeed a deadly contest, " rejoined Murray; "for evil has beenthe example of that foe. How many innocent bosoms have their steelpierced! How many helpless babes have their merciless hands dashedagainst the stones! Oh, ruthless war! even a soldier trembles tocontemplate thy horrors. "

"Only till he can avenge them!" cried a stern voice, entering theapartment. It was Kirkpatrick's, and he proceeded: "When vengeance isin our grasp, tell me, brave Murray, who will then tremble? Dost thounot feel retribution in thine own hands? Dost thou not see thetyrant's blood at thy feet?" As he spoke, he looked down, with a horridexultation in his eyes; and, bursting into a more horrible laugh, struck his hand several times on his heart: "It glads me! I shall seeit-and this arm shall assist to pull him down. "

"His power in Scotland may fall, " returned Murray; "but Edward will betoo careful of his life to come within reach of our steel. "

"That may be, " rejoined Kirkpatrick; "but my dagger shall yet drink theblood of his agents. Cressingham shall feel my foot upon his neck!Cressingham shall see that hand torn from its wrist, which durst toviolate the unsullied cheek of a true Scotsman. Murray, I cannot liveunrevenged. "

As he spoke, he quitted the apartment, and with a countenance of suchtremendous fate, that the young warrior doubted it was human; it spokenot the noble resolves of patriotism, but the portentous malignity withwhich the great adversary of mankind determines the ruin of nations; itseemed to wither the grass on which he moved; and Murray almost thoughtthat the clouds darkened as the gloomy knight issued from the porchinto the open air. 

Kenneth Mackenzie joyfully entered the hall. Murray received him witha warm embrace; and, soon after, Stephen Ireland led the weariedchieftain to a bed of freshly-gathered heath, prepared for him in anupper chamber. 

Chapter XIX. 

Craignacoheilg. 

Sleep, the gentle sister of that awful power which shrouds man in itscold bosom, and bears him in still repose to the blissful wakefulnessof eternal life-she, sweet restorer! wraps him in her balmy embraces, and extracting from his wearied limbs the effects of every toil, safelyrelinquishes the refreshed slumberer at morn to the new-born vigor thatis her gift; to the gladsome breezes which call us forth to labor andenjoyment. 

Such was the rest of the youthful Murray, till the shrill notes of ahundred bugles piercing his ear made him start. He listened; theysounded again. The morning had fully broke. He sprung from his couch, hurried on his armor, and snatching up his lance and target, issuedfrom the tower. Several women were flying past the gate. On seeinghim, they exclaimed, "The Lord Wallace is arrived-his bugles havesounded-our husbands are returned!"

Murray followed their eager footsteps, and reached the edge of the rockjust as the brave group were ascending. A stranger was also there, who, from his extreme youth and elegance, he judged must be the youngprotector of his clansmen; but he forbore to address him until theyshould be presented to each other by Wallace himself. 

It was indeed the same. On hearing the first blast of the horn, theyouthful chieftain had hastened from his bed of heath, and buckling onhis brigandine, rushed to the rock; but at the sight of the noblefigure which first gained the summit, the young hero fell back. Anindescribable awe checked his steps, and he stood at a distance, whileKirkpatrick welcomed the chief, and introduced Lord Andrew Murray. Wallace received the latter with a glad smile; and taking him warmly bythe hand, "Gallant Murray, " said he, "with such assistance, I hope toreinstate your brave uncle in Bothwell Castle, and soon to cut apassage to even a mightier rescue! We must carry off Scotland from thetyrant's arms; or, " added he, in a graver tone, "we shall only rivether chains the closer. "

"I am but a poor auxiliary, " returned Murray; "my troop is a scantyone, for it is my own gathering. It is not my father's nor my uncle'sstrength, that I bring along with me. But there is one here, "continued he, "who has preserved a party of men, sent by my cousin LadyHelen Mar, almost double my numbers. "

At this reference to the youthful warrior, Sir Roger Kirkpatrickdiscerned him at a distance, and hastened toward him, while Murraybriefly related to Wallace the extraordinary conduct of this unknown. On being told that the chief waited to receive him, the youth hastenedforward with a trepidation he had never felt before; but it was atrepidation that did not subtract from his own worth. It was thetimidity of a noble heart, which believed it approached one of the mostperfect among mortals; and while its anxious pulse beat to emulate suchmerit, a generous consciousness of measureless inferiority embarassedhim with a confusion so amiable, that Wallace, who perceived hisextreme youth and emotion, opened his arms and embraced him. "Braveyouth, " cried he, "I trust that the power which blesses our cause willenable me to return you with many a well-earned glory, to the bosom ofyour family!"

Edwin was encouraged by the frank address of a hero whom he expected tohave found reserved, and wrapped in the deep glooms of the fate whichhad roused him to be a thunderbolt of heaven; but when he saw a benign, though pale countenance, hail him with smiles, he made a strong effortto shake off the awe with which the name, and the dignity of figure andmein of Wallace had oppressed him; and with a mantling blush hereplied: "My family are worthy of your esteem; my father is brave; butmy mother, fearing for me, her favorite son, prevailed on him to put meinto a monastery. Dreading the power of the English, even there sheallowed none but the abbot to know who I was. And as he chose to hidemy name-and I have burst from my concealment without her knowledge-tillI do something worthy of that name, and deserving her pardon, permitme, noble Wallace, to follow your footsteps by the simple appellationof Edwin. "

"Noble boy, " returned the chief, "your wish shall be respected. Weurge you no further to reveal what such innate bravery must shortlyproclaim in the most honorable manner. "

The whole of the troop having ascended, while their wives, children, and friends were rejoicing in their embraces, Wallace asked somequestions relative to Bothwell, and Murray briefly related thedisasters which had happened there. 

"My father, " added he, "is still with the Lord of Loch-awe; and thitherI sent to request him to dispatch to the Cartlane Craigs all thefollowers he took with him into Argyleshire. But as things are, wouldit not be well to send a second messenger, to say that you have soughtrefuge in Glenfinlass?"

"Before he could arrive, " returned Wallace, "I hope we shall be whereLord Bothwell's reinforcements may reach us by water. Our presentobject must be the Earl of Mar. He is the first Scottish earl who hashazarded his estates and life for Scotland; and as her best friend, hisliberation must be our first enterprise. In my circuit through two orthree eastern counties, a promising increase has been made to ourlittle army. The Frasers of Oliver Castle have given me two hundredmen; and the brave Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, whom I met in WestLothian, has not only brought fifty stout Scots to my command, but, ashereditary standard-bearer of the kingdom, has come himself to carrythe royal banner of Scotland to glory or oblivion. "

"To glory!" cried Murray, waving his sword; "O! not while a Scotsurvives, shall that blood-red lion** again lick the dust!"

**A lion gules, in a field or, is the arms of Scotland. -(1809. )

"No, " cried Kirkpatrick, his eyes flashing fire; "rather may every Scotand every Southron fall in the struggle, and fill one grave! Let me, "cried he, sternly grasping the hilt of his sword, and looking upward, "let me, oh, Saviour of mankind, live but to see the Forth and theClyde, so often reddened with our blood, dye the eastern and thewestern oceans with the vital flood of these our foes; and when none isspared, then let me die in peace. "

The eyes of Wallace glanced on the young Edwin, who stood gazing onKirkpatrick, and turning on the knight with a powerful look ofapprehension-"Check that prayer, " cried he; "remember my bravecompanion, what the Saviour of mankind was; and then think, whether he, who offered life to all the world, will listen to so damning aninvocation. If we would be blessed in the contest, we must bemerciful. "

"To whom?" exclaimed Kirkpatrick; "to the robbers who tear from us ourlands; to the ruffians who wrest from us our honors? But you arepatient; you never received a blow!"

"Yes, " cried Wallace, turning paler; "a heavy one-on my heart. "

"True, " returned Kirkpatrick, "your wife fell dead under the steel of aSouthron governor; and you slew him for it! You were revenged; yourfeelings were appeased. "

"Not the death of fifty thousand governors, " replied Wallace, "couldappease my feelings. Revenge were insufficient to satisfy theyearnings of my soul. " For a moment he covered his agitated featureswith his hand, and then proceeded: "I slew Heselrigge because he was amonster, under whom the earth groaned. My sorrow, deep as it was-wasbut one of many, which his rapacity, and his nephew's licentiousness, the whole nation without reserve! When the sword of war is drawn, allwho resist must conquer or fall; but there are some noble English whoabhor the tyranny they are obliged to exercise over us, and when theydeclare such remorse, shall they not find mercy at our hands? Surely, if not for humanity's, for policy's sake we ought to give quarter; forthe exterminating sword, if not always victorious, incurs the ruin itthreatens, even hope, that by or righteous cause and our clemency, weshall not only gather our own people to our legions but turn the heartsof the poor Welsh and the misled Irish, whom the usurper has forcedinto his armies, and so confront him with troops of his own levying. Many of the English were too just to share in the subjugation of thecountry they had sworn to befriend. And their less honorablecountrymen, when they see Scotsmen no longer consenting to their owndegradation, may take shame to themselves for assisting to betray aconfiding people. "

"That may be" returned Kirkpatrick; "but surely you would not rankAymer de Valence, who lords it over Dumbarton, and Cressingham, whoacts the tyrant in Stirling-you would not rank them amongst theseconscientious English?"

"No, " replied Wallace; "the haughty oppression of the one and thewanton cruelty of the other, have given Scotland too many wounds for meto hold a shield before them; meet them, and I leave them to yoursword. "

"And by heavens!" cried Kirkpatrick, gnashing his teeth with the furyof a tiger, "they shall know its point!"

Wallace then informed his friends he purposed marching next morning bydaybreak toward Dumbarton Castle. "When we make the attack" said he, "it must be in the night; for I propose seizing it by storm. "

Murray and Kirkpatrick joyfully acquiesced. Edwin smiled an enrapturedassent, and Wallace, with many a gracious look and speech, disengagedhimself from the clinging embraces of the weaker part of the garrison, who, seeing in him the spring of their husband's might and the guard oftheir own safety, clung to him as to a presiding deity. 

"You, my dear countrywomen, " said he, "shall find a home for your agedparents, your children, and yourselves, with the venerable Sir JohnScott of Loch Doine. You are to be conducted thither this evening, andthere await in comfort the happy return of your husbands, whomProvidence now leads forth to be the champions of your country. "

Filled with enthusiasm, the women uttered a shout of triumph, and, embracing their husbands, declared they were ready to resign themwholly to Heaven and Sir William Wallace. 

Wallace left them with these tender relatives, from whom they were sosoon to part, and retired with his chieftains to arrange the plan ofhis proposed attack. Delighted with the glory which seemed to wave tohim from the pinnacles of Dumbarton Rock, Edwin listened in profoundsilence to all that was said, and then hastened to his quarters toprepare his armor for the ensuing morning. 

Chapter XX. 

The Cliffs of Loch Lubnaig. 

In the cool of the evening, while the young chieftain was thusemployed, Kenneth entered to tell him that Sir William Wallace hadcalled out his little army, to see its strength and numbers. Edwin'ssoul had become not more enamoured of the panoply of war than thegracious smiles of his admired leader, and at this intelligence hethrew his plans over his brigandine, and placing a swan-plumed bonneton his brows, hastened forth to meet his general. 

The heights of Craignacoheilg echoed with thronging footsteps, and aglittering light seemed issuing from her woods, as the rays of thedescending sun glanced on the arms of her assembling warriors. 

The thirty followers of Murray appeared just as the two hundred Frasersentered from an opening in the rocks. Blood mounted into his face ashe compared his inferior numbers and recollected the obligation theywere to repay, and the greater one he was now going to incur. Howeverhe threw the standard worked by Helen on his shoulder, and turning toWallace, "Behold, " cried he, pointing to his men, "the poor man's mite! It is great, for it is my all!"

"Great, indeed, brave Murray!" returned Wallace, "for it brings me ahost in yourself. "

"I will not disgrace my standard!" said he, lowering the banner-staffto Wallace. He started when he saw the flowing lock, which he couldnot help recognizing. "This is my betrothed, " continued Murray in ablither tone; "I have sworn to take her for better for worse, and Ipledge you my truth nothing but death shall part us!"

Wallace grasped his hand. "And I pledge you mine, that the head whenceit drew shall be laid low before I suffer so generous a defender to beseparated, dead or alive, from this standard. " His eyes glanced at theempress; "Thou art right, " continued he; "God doth goest with theconfidence of success, to embrace victory as a bride!"

"No, I am only the bridegroom's man!" replied Murray, gayly moving off;"I shall be content with a kiss or two from the handmaids, and leavethe lady for my general. "

"Happy, happy youth!" said Wallace to himself, as his eyes pursued theagile footsteps of the young chieftain; "no conquering affection hasyet thrown open thy heart; no deadly injury hath lacerated it withwounds incurable. Patriotism is a virgin passion in thy breast, andinnocence and joy wait upon her!"

"We just muster five hundred men!" observed Ker to Wallace; "but theyare all stout in heart as in condition, and ready, even to-night, ifyou will it, to commence their march. "

"No, " replied Wallace; "we must not overstrain the generous spirit. Let them rest to-night, and to-morrow's dawn shall light us through theforest. "

Ker, who acted as henchman to Wallace, now returned to the ranks togive the word, and they marched forward. 

Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, with his golden standard charged with thelion of Scotland, led the van. Wallace raised his bonnet from hishead, as it drew near. Scrymgeour lowered the staff; Wallace threw uphis outstretched hand at this action, but the knight not understandinghim, he stepped forward. "Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, " cried he, "thatstandard must now bow to me. It represents the royalty of Scotland, before which we fight for our liberties. If virtue yet dwell in thehouse of the valiant St. David, some of his offspring will hear of thisday, and lead it forward to conquest and to a crown. Till such anhour, let not that standard bend to any man. "

Wallace fell back as he spoke, and Scrymgeour, bowing his head in signof acquiescence marched on. 

Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, at the head of his well-appointed Highlandersnext advanced. His blood-red banner streamed to the air, and as itbent to Wallace he saw that the indignant knight had adopted the deviceof the hardy King Archaius, ** but with a fiercer motto-"Touch, and Ipierce!"

**Archaius, King of Scotland, took for his device the thistle and theRewe, and for his motto, "For my defense. "

"That man, " thought Wallace, as he passed along, "carried a relentlesssword in his very eye!"

The men of Loch Doine, a strong, tall and well-armed body, marched on, and gave place to the advancing corps of Bothwell. The eye of Wallacefelt as if turning from gloom and horror to the cheerful light of day, when it fell on the bright and indigenuous face of Murray. Kennethwith his troop followed; and the youthful Edwin, like Cupid in arms, closed the procession. 

Being drawn up in line, their chief, fully satisfied, advanced towardthem, and expressing his sentiments of the patriotism which broughtthem into the field, informed them of his intended march. He thenturned to Stephen Ireland: "The sun has now set, " said he, "and beforedark you must conduct the families of my worthy Lanarkment to theprotection of Sir John Scott. It is time that age, infancy, and femaleweakness should cease their wanderings with us; to-night we bid themadieu, to meet them again, by the leading of the Lord of Hosts, infreedom and prosperity!"

As Wallace ceased, and was retiring from the ground, several old men, and young women with their babes in their arms, rushed from behind theranks, and throwing themselves at his feet, caught hold of his handsand garments. "We go, " said the venerable fathers, "to pray for yourwelfare; and sure we are, a crown will bless our country's benefactor, here or in heaven!"

"In heaven, " replied Wallace, shaking the plumes of his bonnet over hiseyes, to hide the moisture which suffused them; "I can have no right toany other crown. "

"Yes, " cried a hoary-headed shepherd, "you free your country fromtyrants, and the people's hearts will proclaim their deliverer theirsovereign!"

"May your rightful monarch, worthy patriarch, " said Wallace, "whether aBruce of a Baliol, meet with equal zeal from Scotland at large; andtyranny must then fall before courage and loyalty!"

The women wept as they clung to his hand and the daughter of Ireland, holding up her child in her arms, presented it to him. "Look on myson!" cried she, with energy; "the first word he speaks shall beWallace; the second liberty. And every drop of milk he draws from mybosom, shall be turned into blood to nerve a conquering arm, or to flowfor his country!"

At this speech all the women held up their children toward him. "Here, " cried they, "we devote them to Heaven, and to our country!Adopt them, noble Wallace, to be thy followers in arms, when, perhaps, their fathers are laid low!"

Unable to speak, Wallace pressed their little faces separately to hislips, then returning them to their mothers, laid his hand on his heart, and answered in an agitated voice. "They are mine!-my weal shall betheirs-my woe my own. " As he spoke he hurried from the weeping group, and emerging amid the cliffs, hid himself from their tears and theirblessing. 

He threw himself on a shelving rock, whose fern-covered bosom projectedover the winding waters of Loch Lubnaig, and having stilled his ownanguished recollections, he turned his full eyes on the lake beneath;and while he contemplated its serene surface, he sighed, and thoughthow tranquil was nature, till the rebellious passions of man, wearyingof innocent joys, disturbed all by restlessness and invasion on thepeace and happiness of others. 

The mists of evening hung on the gigantic tops of Ben Ledi and BenVorlich; then sailing forward, by degrees obscured the whole of themountains, leaving nothing for the eye to dwell on but the long silentexpanse of the waters below. 

"So, " said he, "did I once believe myself forever shut in from theworld, by an obscurity that promised me happiness as well as seclusion! But the hours of Ellerslie are gone! No tender wife will now twineher faithful arms around my neck. Alas, the angel that sunk mycountry's wrongs to a dreamy forgetfulness in her arms, she was to beimmolated that I might awake! My wife, my unborn babe, they must bothbleed for Scotland!-and the sacrifice shall not be yielded in vain. No, blessed God, " cried he, stretching his clasped hands toward mycountrymen to liberty and happiness! Let me counsel with thy wisdom;let me conquer with thine arm! and when all is finished, give me, Ogracious Father! a quiet grave, beside my wife and child. "

Tears, the first he had shed since the hour in which he last pressedhis Marion to his heart, now flowed copiously from his eyes. Thewomen, the children, had aroused all his recollections but in sosoftened a train, that they melted his heart till he wept. "It is thyjust tribute, Marion, " said he; "it was blood you shed for me, andshall I check these poor drops? Look on me, sweet saint, best-belovedof my soul; O! hover near me in the day of battle, and thousands ofthine and Scotland's enemies shall fall before thy husband's arm!"

The plaintive voice of the Highland pipe at this moment broke upon hisear. It was the farewell of the patriarch Lindsay, as he and hisdeparting company descended the winding paths of Craignacoheilg. Wallace started on his feet. The separation had then taken placebetween his trusty followers and their families; and guessing thefeelings of those brave men from what was passing in his own breast, hedried away the traces of his tears, and once more resuming thewarrior's cheerful look, sought that part of the rock where theLanarkmen were quartered. 

As he drew near he saw some standing on the cliff and others leaningover, to catch another glance of the departing group ere it was lostamid the shades of Glenfinlass. 

"Are they quite gone?" asked Dugald. 

"Quite, " answered a young man, who seemed to have got the mostadvantageous situation for a view. 

"Then, " cried he, "may St. Andrew keep them until we meet again!"

"May a greater than St. Andrew hear thy prayer!" ejaculated Wallace. At the sound of this response from their chief they all turned round. "My brave companions, " said he, "I come to repay this hour's pangs bytelling you that, in the attack of Dumbarton, you shall have the honorof first mounting the walls. I shall be at your head, to sign eachbrave soldier with a patriot's seal of honor. "

"To follow you, my lord, " said Dugald, "is our duty. "

"I grant it, " replied the chief; "and as I am the leader in that duty, it is mine to dispense to every man his reward; to prove to all menthat virtue alone is true nobility. "

"Ah, dearest sir!" exclaimed Edwin, who had been assisting the women tocarry their infants down the steep, and on reascending heard the latterpart of this conversation; "deprive me not of the aim of my life!These warriors have had you long-have distinguished themselves in youreyes. Deprive me not, then, of the advantages of being near you; itwill make me doubly brave. Oh, my dear commander, let me only carry tothe grave the consciousness that, next to yourself, I was the first tomount the rock of Dumbarton, and you will make me noble indeed!"

Wallace looked at him with a smile of such graciousness, that the youththrew himself into his arms. "You will grant my boon?"

"I will, noble boy, " said he; "act up to your sentiments, and you shallbe my brother. "

"Call me by that name, " cried Edwin, "and I will dare anything. "

"Then be the first to follow me on the rock, " said he, "and I will leadyou to an honor, the highest in my gift; you shall unloose the chainsof the Earl of Mar! And ye, " continued he, commemorate the duty ofsuch sons. Being the first to strike the blow for her freedom, yeshall be the first she will distinguish. I now speak as her minister;and, as a badge to times immemorial, I bid you wear the Scottish lionon your shields. "

A shout of proud joy issued from every heart; and Wallace, seeing thathonor had dried the tears of regret, left them to repose. He sentEdwin to his rest; and himself, avoiding the other chieftains, retiredto his own chamber in the tower. 

Chapter XXI. 

Loch Lomond. 

Profound as was the rest of Wallace, yet the first clarion of the larkawakened him. The rosy dawn shone in at the window, and a fresh breezewooed him with its inspiring breath to rise and meet it. But theimpulse was in his own mind; he needed nothing outward to call him toaction. Rising immediately, he put on his glittering hauberk; andissuing from the tower, raised his bugle to his lips, and blew sorousing a blast, that in an instant the whole rock was covered withsoldiers. 

Wallace placed his helmet on his head, and advanced toward them, justas Edwin had joined him, and Sir Roger Kirkpatrick appeared from thetower. "Blessed be this morn!" cried the old knight. "My swordsprings from its scabbard to meet it; and ere its good steel besheathed again, " continued he, shaking it sternly, "what deaths may dyeits point!"

Wallace shuddered at the ferocity with which his colleague contemplatedthis feature of war from which every humane soldier would seek to turnhis thoughts, that he might encounter it with the steadiness of a man, and not the irresolution of a woman. To hail the field of blood withthe fierceness of a hatred eager for the slaughter of its victim-toknow any joy in combat but that each contest might render another lessnecessary-did not enter into the imagination of Wallace until he hadheard and seen the infuriate Kirkpatrick. He talked of the comingbattle with horrid rapture, and told the young Edwin he should that daysee Loch Lomond red with English blood. 

Offended at such savageness, but without answering him, Wallace drewtoward Murray, and calling to Edwin, ordered him to march at his side. The youth seemed glad of the summons, and Wallace was pleased toobserve it, as he thought that a longer stay with one who so grosslyovercharged the feelings of honest patriotism, might breed disgust inhis innocent mind against a cause which had so furious and thereforeunjust a defender. 

"Justice and mercy ever dwell together, " said he to Edwin, who now drewnear him; "for universal love is the parent of justice, as well as ofmercy. But implacable Revenge! whence did she spring, but from thehead of Satan himself?"

Though their cause appeared the same, never were two spirits morediscordant than those of Wallace and Kirkpatrick. But Kirkpatrick didnot so soon discover the dissimilarity; as it is easier for purity todescry its opposite, than for foulness to apprehend that anything canbe purer than itself. 

The forces being marshaled according to the preconcerted order, thethree commanders, with Wallace at their head, led forward. 

They passed through the forest of Glenfinlass; and morning and eveningstill found them threading its unsuspected solitudes in unmolestedsecurity; night, too, watched their onward march. 

The sun had just risen as the little band of patriots, the hope offreedom, emerged upon the eastern bank of Loch Lomond. The bases ofthe mountains were yet covered with the dispersing mist of the morning, and hardly distinguishable from the blue waters of the lake, whichlashed the shore. The newly-awakened sheep bleated from the hills, andthe umbrageous herbage, dropping dew, seemed glittering with a thousandfairy gems. 

"Where is the man who would not fight for such a country?" exclaimedMurray, as he stepped over a bridge of interwoven trees, which crossedone of the mountain streams. "This land was not made for slaves. Lookat these bulwarks of nature! Every mountain-head which forms thischain of hills is an impregnable rampart against invasion. If Baliolhad possessed but half a heart, Edward might have returned even worsethan Caesar-without a cockle to decorate his helmet. "

"Baliol has found the oblivion he incurred, " returned Wallace; "hisson, perhaps, may better deserve the scepter of such a country. Let uscut the way, and he who merits the crown will soon appear to claim it. "

"Then it will not be Edward Baliol!" rejoined Scrymgeour. "During theinconsistent reign of his father, I once carried a despatch to him fromScotland. He was then banqueting in all the luxuries of the Englishcourt; and such a voluptuary I never beheld! I left the scene offolly, only praying that so effeminate a prince might never disgracethe throne of our manly race of kings. "

"If such be the tuition of our lords in the court of Edward-and wise isthe policy for his own views!" observed Ker, "what can we expect fromeven the Bruce? They were ever a nobler race than the Baliol; but badeducation and luxury will debase the most princely minds. "

"I saw neither of the Bruce when I visited London, " replied Scrymgeour;"the Earl of Carrick was at his house in Cleveland, and Robert Bruce, his eldest son, with the English army in Guienne. But they bore amanly character, particularly young Robert, to whom the troubadours ofAquitaine have given the flattering appellation of Prince of Chivalry. "

"It would be more to his honor, " interrupted Murray, "if he compelledthe English to acknowledge him as Prince of Scotland. With so muchbravery, how can he allow such a civetcat as Edward Baliol to bear awaythe title, which is his by the double right of blood and virtue?"

"Perhaps, " said Wallace, "the young lion only sleeps! The time maycome, when both he and his father will rise from their lethargy, andthrow themselves at once into the arms of Scotland. To stimulate thedormant patriotism of these two princes, by showing them a subjectleading their people to liberty, is one great end of the victories Iseek. None other than a brave king can bind the various interests ofthis distracted country into one; and therefore, for fair Freedom'ssake, my heart turns toward the Bruces with most anxious hopes. "

"For my part, " cried Murray, "I have always thought the lady we willnot woo we have no right to pretend to. If the Bruces will not be atthe pains to snatch Scotland from drowning, I see no reason for makingthem a present of what will cost us many a wet jacket before we tug herfrom the waves. He that wins the day ought to wear the laurel; and so, once for all, I proclaim him King of good old Albin, ** who will havethe glory of driving her oppressors beyond her dikes. "

**Albin was the ancient name of Scotland. 

Wallace did not hear this last sentiment of Murray's, as it was spokenin a lowered voice in the ear of Kirkpatrick. "I perfectly agree withyou, " was the knight's reply; "and in the true Roman style, may thedeath of every Southron now in Scotland, and as many more as fatechooses to yield us, be the preliminary games of his coronation!"

Wallace, who heard this, turned to Kirkpatrick with a mild rebuke inhis eye. "Balaam blessed, when he meant to curse!" said he; "but somecurse, when they mean to bless. Such prayers are blasphemy. For, canwe expect a blessing on our arms, when all our invocations are forvengeance rather than victory?"

"Blood for blood is only justice!" returned Murray; "and how can you, noble Wallace, as a Scot, and as a man, imply any mercy to the villainswho stab us to the heart?"

"I plead not for them, " replied Wallace, "but for the poor wretches whofollow their leaders, by force, to the field of Scotland; I would notinflict on them the cruelties we now resent. It is not to aggrieve, but to redress, that we carry arms. If we make not this distinction, we turn courage into a crime; and plant disgrace, instead of honor, upon the warrior's brow. "

"I do not understand commiserating the wolves who have so long madehavoc in our country, " cried Kirkpatrick; "methinks such maidenly mercyis rather or of place. "

Wallace turned to him with a smile: "I will answer you, my valiantfriend, by adopting your own figure. It is that these Southron wolvesmay not confound us with themselves, that I wish to show in our conductrather the generous ardor of the faithful guardian of the fold, thanthe rapacious fierceness which equals them with the beasts of thedesert. As we are men and Scots, let the burden of our prayers be, thepreservation of our country, not the slaughter of our enemies! The oneis an ambition, with which angels may sympathize; the other, a horribledesire, which speaks the nature of fiends. "

"In some cases this may be, " replied Sir Roger, a little reconciled tothe argument, "but not in mine. My injury yet burns upon my cheek; andas nothing but the life blood of Cressingham can quench it, I willlisten no more to your doctrine till I am avenged. That done, I shallnot forget your lesson. "

"Generous Kirkpatrick!" exclaimed Wallace, "nothing that is reallycruel can dwell with such manly candor. Say what you will, I can trustyour heart after this moment. "

They had crossed the River Ennerie, and were issuing from between itsnarrow ridge of hills, when Wallace, pointing to a stupendous rockwhich rose in solitary magnificence in the midst of a vast plain, exclaimed, "There is Dumbarton Castle!-that citadel holds the fettersof Scotland; and if we break them there, every minor link will easilygive way. "

The men uttered a shout of anticipated triumph at this sight; andproceeding, soon came in view of the fortifications which helmeted therock. As they approached, they discovered that it had two summits, being in a manner cleft in twain; the one side rising in a pyramidalform; while the other, of a more table-shape, sustained the ponderousbuildings of the fortress. 

It was dusk when the little army arrived in the rear of a close thicketto a considerable length over the plain. On this spot Wallace restedhis men; and while they placed themselves under its covert till theappointed time of attack, he perceived through an opening in the wood, the gleaming of soldiers' arms on the ramparts, and fires beginning tolight on a lonely watchtower, which crowned the pinnacle of the highestrock. 

"Poor fools!" exclaimed Murray; "like the rest of their brethren ofclay, they look abroad for evils, and prepare not for those which areeven at their doors!"

"That beacon-fire, " cried Scrymgeour, "shall light us to theirchambers; and for once we thank them for their providence. "

"That beacon-fire, " whispered Edwin to Wallace, "shall light me tohonor! To-night, by your agreement, I shall call you brother, or liedead on the summit of those walls!"

"Edwin, " said Wallace, "act as you say; and deserve not only to becalled my brother, but to be the first banneret of freedom in arms!"

He then turned toward the lines; and, giving his orders to eachdivision, directed them to seek repose on the surrounding heather, tillthe now glowing moon should have sunk her telltale light in the waves. 

Chapter XXII. 

Dumbarton Rock. 

All obeyed the voice of their commander, and retired to rest. But theeyes of Edwin could not close; his eager spirit was already on thewalls of Dumbarton. His rapid mind anticipated the ascent of hisgeneral and his troop. But an imagination no less just than ardentsuggested the difficulties attending so small a force assailing soformidable a garrison, without some immediate knowledge of its relativesituations. A sudden thought struck him. He would mount that rockalone; he would seek to ascertain the place of Lord Mar's confinement;that not one life in Wallace's faithful band might be lost in a vaguesearch. 

"Ah! my general, " exclaimed he, "Edwin shall be the first to springthose ramparts; he shall tread that dangerous path alone; and when hehas thus proved himself no unworthy of thy confidence, he will returnto lead thee and thy soldiers to a sure victory, and himself to honorby thy side!"

This fervant apostrophe, breathed to the night alone, was no sooneruttered, than he stole from the thicket into which he had cast himselfto respose. He looked toward the embattled cliff; its summit stoodbright in the moonlight, but deep shadows lay beneath. "God be myspeed!" cried he, and wrapping himself in his plaid, so mixed its darkhues with the weeds and herbage at the base of the rock, that he madeits circuit without having attracted observation. 

The south side seemed the easiest of ascent and by that he began hisdaring attempt. Having gained the height, he clambered behind abuttress, the shadow of which cast the wall into such black obscurity, that he crept safely through one of its crenelles, and dropping gentlyinward, alighted on his feet. Still keeping the shadowed side of thebattlements, he proceeded cautiously along, and so still was his motionthat he passed undiscovered, even by the sentinels who guarded thisquarter of the fortress. 

He soon arrived at the open square before the citadel; it was yetoccupied by groups of Southron officers, gayly walking to and fro underthe light of the moon. In hopes of gaining some useful informationfrom their discourse, he concealed himself behind a chest of arrows;and as they passed backward and forward, distinctly heard them jestingeach other about divers fair dames of the country around. Theconversation terminated in a debate, whether or no the indifferencewhich their governor De Valence manifested to the majestic beauties ofthe Countess of Mar were real or assumed. A thousand free remarks weremade on the subject, and Edwin gathered sufficient from the discourse, to understand that the earl and countess were treated severely, andconfined in a large, square tower in the cleft of the rock. 

Having learned all that he could expect from these officers, hespeeded, under the friendly shadow, toward the other side of thecitadel, and arrived just as the guard approached to relieve thesentinels of the northern postern. He laid himself close to theground, and happily overheard the word of the night, as it was given tothe new watch. This providential circumstances saved his life. 

Finding no mode of egress from this place but by the postern at whichthe sentinel was stationed, or by attempting a passage through a smalladjoining tower, the door of which stood open, he considered a moment, and then deciding for the tower, stole unobserved into it. Fortunatelyno person was there; but Edwin found it full of spare arms, with two orthree vacant couches in different corners, where he supposed theofficers on guard occassionally reposed; several watch-cloaks lay onthe floor. He readily apprehended the use he might make of thiscircumstance, and throwing one of them over his shoulders climbed to alarge embrasure in the wall, and, forcing himself through it, droppedto a declivity on the other side, which shelved down to the cliff, wherein he saw the square tower. 

He had scarcely alighted on firm ground, when a sentinel, followed bytwo others presented pikes, approached him, and demanded the word. "Montjoy!" was his reply. "Why leap the embrasure?" said one. "Whynot enter by the postern?" demanded another. The conversation of theofficers had given him a hint, on which he had formed his answer. "Love, my brave comrades, " replied he, "seldom chooses even ways. I goon a message from a young ensign in the keep, to one of the Scottishdamsels in yonder tower. Delay me, and his vengeance will fall upon usall. " "Good luck to you, my lad!" was their answer, and, with alightened step, he hastened toward the tower. 

Not deeming it safe to seek an interview with any of the earl's family, he crept along the base of the structure, and across the works, till hereached the high wall that blocks up egress from the north. He foundthis formidable curtain constructed of fragments of rock, and for theconvenience of the guard, a sloping platform from within led to the topof the wall. On the other side it was perpendicular. A solitarysentinel stood there; and how to pass him was Edwin's next device. Toattack him would be desparate; being one of a chain of guards aroundthe interior of the fortress, his voice need only to be raised in theleast to call a regiment to his assistance, and Edwin might be seizedon the instant. 

Aware of his danger, but not dismayed, the adventurous youth bethoughthim of his former excuse; and remembering a flask of spirits whichIreland had put into his pouch on leaving Glenfinlass, he affected tobe intoxicated, and staggering up to the man, accosted him in thecharacter of a servant of the garrison. 

The sentinel did not doubt the appearance of the boy, and Edwin, holding out the flask, said that a pretty girl in the great tower hadnot only given him a long draught of the same good liquor but hadfilled his bottle, that he might not lack amusement, while hercompanion; one of Lady Mar's maids-in-waiting, was tying up a truelover's knot to send to his master in the garrison. The man believedEdwin's tale, and the more readily as he thrust the flask into hishand, and bade him drink. "Do not spare it, " cried he; "the night ischilly, and I shall get more where that came from. "

The unsuspecting Southron returned him a merry reply, and putting theflask to his head, soon drained its contents. They had the effectEdwin desired. The soldier became flustered, and impatient of hisduty. Edwin perceived it, and yawning, complained of drowsiness. "Iwould go to the top of that wall, and sleep sweetly in the moonbeams, "said he, "if any goodnatured fellow would meanwhile wait for my prettyScot!"

The half-inebriated Southron liked no better sport, and regardless ofduty, he promised to draw nearer the tower, and bring from the fairmessenger the expected token. 

Having thus far gained his point, with an apparently staggering, butreally agile step, Edwin ascended the wall. A leap from this dizzyheight was his only way to rejoin Wallace. To retread his stepsthrough the fortress in safety would hardly be possible, and, besides, such a mode of retreat would leave him uninformed on the second objectof his enterprise-to know the most vulnerable side of the fortress. Hethrew himself along the summit of the wall as if to sleep. He lookeddown and saw nothing but the blackness of space, for here the broadexpanse of shadow rendered rocks and building of the same hue andlevel. But hope buoyed him in her arms, and turning his eyes towardthe sentinel, he observed him to have arrived within a few paces of thesquare tower. This was Edwin's moment: grasping the projecting stoneof the embattlement, and commending himself to Heaven, he threw himselffrom its summit, and fell a fearful depth to the cliffs beneath. 

Meanwhile Wallace, having seen his brave followers depart to theirrespose, reclined himself along a pile of moss grown stones, which inthe days of the renowned Fingal, had covered the body of some valiantMorven chieftain. He fixed his wakeful eyes on the castle, nowillumined in every part by the fullness of the moon's luster, andconsidered which point would be most assailable by the scaling-laddershe had prepared. Every side seemed a precipice; the Leven, surroundingit on the north and the west; the Clyde, broad as a sea, on the south. The only place that seemed at all accessible was the side next the dikebehind which he lay. Here the ascent to the castellated part of therock, because most perpendicular, was the least guarded with outworks, and by this he determined to make the attempt as soon as the settingmoon should involve the garrison in darkness. 

While he yet mused on what might be the momentous consequences of thesucceeding midnight hours, he thought he heard a swift though cautiousfootstep. He raised himself, and laying his hands on his sword, saw afigure advancing toward him. 

"Who goes there?" demanded Wallace. 

"A faithful Scot, " was the reply. 

Wallace recognized the voice of Edwin. 

"What has disturbed you? Why do you not take rest with the others?"

"That we may have it the surer to-morrow!" replied the youth. "I amjust returned from the summit of yonder rock. "

"How!" interrupted Wallace; "have you scaled it alone, and are returnedin safety?"

Wallace caught him in his arms. "Intrepid, glorious boy! tell me forwhat purpose did you thus hazard your precious life?"

"I wished to learn its most pregnable part, " replied Edwin, his youngheart beating with triumph at these encomiums from his commander; "andparticularly where the good earl is confined, that we might make ourattack directly to the point. "

"And have you been successful?" demanded Wallace. 

"I have, " was his answer. "Lord Mar and his lady are kept in a squaretower which stands in the cleft between the two summits of the rock. It is not only surrounded by embattled walls, which flank the ponderousbuttresses of this huge dungeon, but the space on which it stands isbulwarked at each end by a stone curtain of fifteen feet high, guardedby turrets full of armed men. 

"And yet by that side you suppose we must ascend?" said Wallace. 

"Certainly; for if you attempt it on the west, we should have to scalethe watch-tower cliff, and the ascent could only be gained in file. Anauxiliary detachment, to attack in flank, might succeed there; but thepassage being so narrow, would be too tedious for the whole party toarrive in time. Should we take the south, we must cut through the wholegarrison before we could reach the earl. And on this side, the morasslies too near the foot of the rock to admit an approach without thegreatest danger. But on the north, where I descended, by wadingthrough part of the Leven, and climbing from cliff to cliff, I haveevery hope you may succeed. "

Edwin recounted the particulars of his progress through the fortress;and by the minuteness of his topographical descriptions, enforced hisarguments for the north to be the point assailed. Closing hisnarrative, he explained to the anxious inquiry of Wallace how he hadescaped accident in a leap of so many feet. The wall was covered withivy; he caught by its branches in his descent, and at last happily fellamongst a thick bed of furze. After this, he clambered down the steep, and fording the Leven (there only knee deep), now appeared before hisgeneral, elate in heart, and bright in valor. 

"The intrepidity of this action, " returned Wallace, glowing withadmiration at so noble a daring in so young a creature, "merits thatevery confidence should be placed in the result of your observations. Your safe return is a pledge of our design being approved. And when wego in the strength of Heaven, who can doubt the issue? This night, when the Lord of battles puts that fortress into our hands, before thewhole of our little army you shall receive that knighthood you have sorichly deserved. Such, my truly dear brother, my noble Edwin, shall bethe reward of your virtue and your toil. "

Wallace would now have sent him to respose himself; but animated by thesuccess of his adventure, and exulting in the honor which was so soonto stamp a sign of this exploit upon him forever, he told his leaderthat he felt no want of sleep, and would rather take on him the officeof arousing the other captains to their stations, the moon, theirpreconcerted signal, being then approaching its rest. 

Chapter XXIII. 

The Fortress. 

Kirkpatrick, Murray, and Scrymgeour hastened to their commander; and ina few minutes all were under arms. Wallace briefly explained hisaltered plan of assault, and marshaling his men accordingly, led themin silence through the water, and along the beach, which lay betweenthe rock and the Leven. Arriving at the base just as the moon set, they began to ascend. To do this in the dark redoubled the difficulty;but as Wallace had the place of every accessible stone accuratelydescribed to him by Edwin, he went confidently forward, followed by hisLanarkmen. 

He and they, being the first to mount, fixed and held the tops of thescaling-ladders, while Kirkpatrick and Scrymgeour, with their men, gradually ascended, and gained the bottom of the wall. Here, plantingthemselves in the crannies of the rock, under the impenetrable darknessof the night (for the moon had not only set, but the stars wereobscured by clouds), they awaited the signal for the final ascent. 

Meanwhile, Edwin led Lord Andrew with his followers, and the Frasermen, round by the western side to mount the watchtower rock, and seizethe few soldiers who kept the beacon. As a signal of having succeeded, they were to smother the flame on the top of the tower, and thencedescend toward the garrison to meet Wallace before the prison of theEarl of Mar. 

While the men of Lanark, with their eyes fixed on the burning beacon, in deadly stillness watched the appointed signal for the attack, Wallace, by the aid of his dagger, which he struck into the firm soilthat occupied the cracks in the rock, drew himself up almost parallelwith the top of the great wall, which clasped the bases of the twohills. He listened; not a voice was to be heard in the garrison of allthe legions he had so lately seen glittering on its battlements. Itwas an awful pause. 

Now was the moment when Scotland was to make her first essay forfreedom! Should it fail, ten thousand bolts of iron would be added toher chains! Should it succeed, liberty and happiness were the almostcertain consequences. 

He looked up, and fixing his eyes on the beacon-flame, thought he sawthe figures of men pass before it-the next moment all was darkness. Hesprung on the walls, and feeling by the touch of hands about his feetthat his brave followers had already mounted their ladders, he graspedhis sword firmly, and leaped down on the ground within. In that momenthe struck against the sentinel, who was just passing, and by theviolence of the shock struck him to the earth; but the man, as he fell, catching Wallace round the waist, dragged him after him, and with avociferous cry, shouted "Treason!"

Several sentinels ran with leveled pikes to the spot, the adjacentturrets emptied themselves of their armed inhabitants, and allassaulted Wallace, just as he had extricated himself from the grasp ofthe prostrate soldier. 

"Who are you?" demanded they. 

"Your enemy;" and the speaker fell at his feet with one stroke of hissword. 

"Alarm!-treason!" resounded from the rest as they aimed their randomstrokes at the conquering chief. But he was now assisted by thevigorous army of Ker, and of several Lanarkmen, who, having cleared thewall, were dealing about blows in the darkness, which filled the airwith groans, and strewed the ground with the dying and the dead. 

One or two Southrons, whose courage was not equal to their caution, fled to arouse the garrison, and just as the whole of Wallace's menleaped the wall and rallied to his support, the inner ballium gateburst open, and a legion of foes, bearing torches, issued to thecontest. With horrible threatenings, they came on, and by a rapidmovement surrounded Wallace and his little company. But his soulbrightened in danger, and his men warmed with the same spirit, stoodfirm with fixed pikes, receiving without injury the assault. Theirweapons being longer than their enemy's, the Southrons, not aware ofthe circumstance, rushed upon their points, incurring the death theymeant to give. Seeing their consequent disorder, Wallace ordered thepikes to be dropped, and his men to charge sword in hand. Terrible wasnow the havoc, for the desperate Scots, grapling each to his foe with afatal hold, let not go till the piercing shriek, or the agonized groan, convinced him that death had seized its victim. Wallace fought infront, making a dreadful passage through the falling ranks, while thetremendous sweep of his sword, flashing in the intermitting light, warned the survivors where the avenging blade would next descend. Ahorrid vacuity was made in the lately thronged spot; it seemed not theslaughter of a mortal arm, but as if the destroying angel himself werethere, and with one blast of his desolating brand, had laid all inruin. The platform was cleared, and the fallen torches, somehalf-extinguished, and other flaming on the ground by the sides of thedead, showed, in their uncertain gleams, a few terrified wretchesseeking safely in flight. The same lurid rays, casting a transitorylight on the iron gratings of the great tower, informed Wallace thatthe heat of conflict had drawn him to the prison of the earl. 

"We are now near the end of this night's work!" cried he. "Let uspress forward to give freedom to the Earl of Mar!"

"Liberty and Lord Mar!" cried Kirkpatrick, rushing onward. He wasimmediately followed by his own men, but not quickly enough for hisdaring. The guard in the tower, hearing the outcry, issued from theflanking gates, and, surrounding him, took him prisoner. 

"If there be might in your arms, " roared he, with the voice of a lion, "men of Loch Dione, rescue your leader!"

They hurried forward, with yells of defiance; but the strength of thegarrison, awakened by the flying wretches from the defeat, turned outall its power, and, with De Valence at their head, poured onKirkpatrick's men, and would have overpowered them had not Wallace andhis sixty heroes, with desperate determination, cut a passage to themthrough the closing ranks. 

Pikes struck against corslets, swords rang on helmets, and theponderous battle-ax, falling with the weight of fate, cleft theuplifted target in twain. Blood spouted on every side, and thedripping hands of Kirkpatrick, as Wallace tore him from the enemy, proclaimed that he had bathed his vengeance in the stream. On beingreleased, he shook his ensanguined arms, and burst into a horrid laugh. "The work speeds! Now through the heart of the governor!"

Even while he spoke Wallace lost him again from his side; and again, bythe shouts of the Southrons, who cried, "No quarter for the rebel!" helearned he must be retaken. That merciless cry was the death-bell oftheir own doom. It directed Wallace to the spot, and throwing himselfand his brethren of Lanark into the midst of the band which held theprisoner, Kirkpatrick was again rescued. But thousands seemed nowsurrounding the chief himself. To do this generous deed, he hadadvanced further than he ought, and himself and his brave followersmust have been slain had he not recoiled, and covering their rear withthe great tower, all who had the hardihood to approach fell under theweight of the Scottish claymore. 

Scrymgeour, at the head of the Loch Dione men, in vain attempted toreach this contending party; and fearful of losing the royal standard, he was turning to make a valiant retreat, when Murray and Edwin (havingdisengaged their followers from the precipices of the beacon rock)rushed into the fray, striking their shields, and uttering theinspiring slogan of "Wallace and freedom!" It was re-echoed by everyScot; those that were flying returned; they who sustained the conflicthailed the cry with braces sinews; and the terrible thunder of theword, pealing from rank to rank, struck a terror into De Valence's men, which made them pause. The extinction of the beacon made them stillmore aghast. 

On that short moment turned the crisis of their fate. Wallace cut hisway forward through the dismayed Southrons, who, bearing the reiteratedshouts of the fresh reinforcements, knew not whether its strength mightnot be thousands instead of hundreds, and, panic-stricken, they becamean easy prey to their enemies. Surrounded, mixed with theirassailants, they knew not friends from foes, and each individual beingbent on flight, they indiscriminately cut to right and left, woundingas many of their own men as of the Scots, and finally, afterslaughtering half their companions, some few escaped through the smallposterns of the garrison, leaving the inner ballia entirely inpossession of the foe. 

The whole of the field being cleared, Wallace ordered the tower to beforced. A strong guard was still within, and, as the assailants drewnear, every means was used to render their assaults abortive. As theScots pressed to the main entrance, stones and heavy metals were thrownupon their heads; but, not in the least intimidated, they stood beneaththe iron shower, till Wallace ordered them to drive a large felledtree, which lay on the ground, against the hinges of the door. Itburst open, and the whole party rushed into the hall. 

A short, sanguinary, but decisive conflict took place. The hauberk andplaid of Wallace were dyed from head to foot; his own brave blood, andthe ferocious stream from his enemies, mingled in one horrid hue uponhis garments. 

"Wallace! Wallace!" cried the stentorian lungs of Kirkpatrick. In amoment Wallace was at his side, and found him wrestling with two men. The light of a single lamp, suspended from the rafters, fell directupon the combatants. A dagger was pointed at the life of the oldknight, but Wallace laid the holder of it dead across the body of hisintended victim, and catching the other assailant by the throat, threwhim prostrate to the ground. 

"Spare me, for the honor of knighthood!" cried the conquered. 

"For my honor you shall die!" cried Kirkpatrick. His sword was alreadyat the heart of the Englishman. Wallace beat it back. "Kirkpatrick, he is my prisoner, and I give him life. "

"You know not what you do, " cried the old knight, struggling withWallace to release his sword-arm. "This is De Valence!"

"Quarter!" reiterated the panting and hard-pressed earl. "NobleWallace, my life! For I am wounded. "

"Sooner take my own!" cried the determined Kirkpatrick, fixing his footon the neck of the prostrate man, and trying to wrench his hand fromthe grasp of his commander. 

"Shame!" cried Wallace; "you must strike through me to kill any woundedman I hear cry for quarter! Release the earl, for your own honor. "

"Our safety lies in his destruction!" cried Kirkpatrick, and, enragedat opposition, he thrust his commander (little expecting such anaction) from off the body of the earl. De Valence seized hisadvantage, and catching Kirkpatrick by the limb that pressed on him, overthrew him; and by a sudden spring, turning quickly on Wallace, struck his dagger into his side. All this was done in an instant. Wallace did not fall, but staggering, with the weapon sticking in thewound, he was so surprised by the baseness of the deed, he could notgive the alarm till its perpetrator had disappeared. 

The flying earl took his course through a narrow passage between theworks, and proceeding swiftly toward the south, issued safely at one ofthe outer ballium gates-that part of the castle being now solitary, allthe men having been drawn from the walls to the contest within-andthence he made his escape in a fisher's boat across the Clyde. 

Meanwhile Wallace, having recovered himself, just as the Scots broughtin lighted torches from the lower apartments of the tower, saw SirRoger Kirkpatrick leaning sternly on his blood-dripping sword, and theyoung Edwin coming forward in garments too nearly the hue of his own. Andrew Murray stood already by his side. Wallace's hand was upon thehilt of the dagger which the ungrateful De Valence had left in hisbreast. "You are wounded! you are slain!" cried Murray in a voice ofconsternation. Edwin stood motionless with horror. 

"That dagger!" exclaimed Scrymgeour. 

"Has done nothing, " replied Wallace, "but let a little more blood. " Ashe spoke he drew it out, and thrusting the corner of his scarf into hisbosom, staunched the wound. 

"So is your mercy rewarded!" exclaimed Kirkpatrick. 

"So am I true to a soldier's duty, " returned Wallace, "though DeValence is a traitor to his!"

"You treated him as a man, " replied Kirkpatrick, "but now you find hima treacherous fiend!"

"Your eagerness, my brave friend, " returned Wallace, "has lost him as aprisoner. If not for humanity or honor, for policy's sake, we ought tohave spared his life, and detained him as an hostage for our countrymenin England. 

Kirkpatrick remembered how his violence had released the earl, and helooked down abashed. Wallace, perceiving it, continued, "But let usnot abuse our time discoursing on a coward. He is gone, the fortressis ours, and our first measure must be to guard if from surprise. "

As he spoke, his eyes fell upon Edwin, who, having recovered from theshock of Murray's exclamation, had brought forward the surgeon of theirlittle band. A few minutes bound up the wounds of their chief, evenwhile beckoning the anxious boy towards him. "Brave youth, " cried he, "you, at the imminent risk of your own life, explored these heights, that you might render our ascent more sure; you who have fought like ayoung lion in this unequal contest! here, in the face of all yourvaliant comrades, receive that knighthood which rather derives lusterfrom your virtues than gives additional consequence to your name. "

With a bounding heart Edwin bent his knee, and Wallace giving him thehallowed accolade, ** the young knight rose from his position with allthe roses of his springing fame glowing in his countenance. Scrymgeourpresented him the knightly girdle, which he unbraced from his ownloins, and while the happy boy received the sword to which it wasattached, he exclaimed, with animation, "While I follow the examplebefore my eyes, I shall never draw this in an unjust cause, nor eversheath it in a just one. "

**Accolade, the three strokes of the sword given in knighting. 

"Go, then, " returned Wallace, smiling his approval of this sentiment, "while work is to be done I will keep my knight to the toil; go, andwith twenty men of Lanark, guard the wall by which we ascended. "

Edwin disappeared, and Wallace, having dispatched detachments to occupyother parts of the garrison, took a torch in his hand and, turning toMurray, proposed seeking the Earl of Mar. Lord Andrew was soon at theiron door which led from the hall to the principal stairs. 

"We must have our friendly battering-ram here, " cried he; "a closeprisoner do they indeed keep my uncle when even the inner doors arebolted on him. "

The men dragged the tree forward, and striking it against the iron, itburst open with the noise of thunder. Shrieks from within followed thesound. The women of Lady Mar, not knowing what to suppose during theuproar of the conflict, now hearing the door forced, expected nothingless than that some new enemies were advancing; and, giving themselvesup to despair, they flew into the room where the countess sat in equalthough less clamorous terror. 

At the shouts of the Scots, when they began the attack, the earl hadstarted from his couch. "That is not peace!" said he; "there is somesurprise!"

"Alas, from whom?" returned Lady Mar; "who would venture to attack afortress like this, garrisoned with thousands?"

The cry was repeated. 

"It is the slogan of Sir William Wallace!" cried he; "I shall be free!O, for a sword! Hear, hear!"

As the shouts redoubled, and, mingled with the various clangors ofbattle, drew nearer the tower, the impatience of the earl could not berestrained. Hope and eagerness seemed to have dried up his wounds andnew-strung every nerve, while unarmed as he was, he rushed from theapartment, and hurried down the stairs which led to the iron door. Hefound it so firmly fastened by bars and padlocks, he could not move it. Again he ascended to his terrified wife, who, conscious how littleobligation Wallace owed to her, perhaps dreaded even more to see herhusband's hopes realized than to find herself yet more rigidly theprisoner of the haughty De Valence. 

"Joanna!" cried he, "the arm of God is with us. My prayers are heard. Scotland will yet be free. Hear those groans-those shouts. Victory!victory!"

As he thus echoed the cry of triumph uttered by the Scots when burstingopen the outer gate of the tower, the foundations of the buildingshook, and Lady Mar, almost insensible with terror, received theexhausted body of her husband into her arms; he fainted from thetransport his weakened frame was unable to hear. Soon after this thestair-door was forced, and the panic-struck women ran shrieking intothe room to their mistress. 

The countess could not speak, but sat pale and motionless, supportinghis head on her bosom. Guided by the noise, Lord Andrew flew into theroom, and rushing toward his uncle, fell at his feet. "Liberty!Liberty!" was all he could say. His words pierced the ear of the earllike a voice from heaven, and looking up, without a word, he threw hisarms round the neck of his nephew. 

Tears relieved the contending feelings of the countess; and the women, recognizing the young Lord of Bothwell, retired into a distant corner, well assured they had now no cause for fear. 

The earl rested but a moment on the panting breast of his nephew; when, gazing round, to seek the mighty leader of the band, he saw Wallaceenter, with the step of security and triumph in his eyes. 

"Ever my deliverer!" cried the venerable Mar, stretching forth hisarms. The next instant he held Wallace to his breast; and rememberingall that he had lost for his sake since they parted, a soldier's heartmelted, and he burst into tears. "Wallace, my preserver; thou victimfor Scotland, and for me-or rather, thou chosen of Heaven; who, by thesacrifice of all thou didst hold dear on earth, art made a blessing tothy country!-receive my thanks, and my heart. "

Wallace felt all in his soul which the earl meant to imply; butrecovered the calmed tone of his mind before he was released from theembrace of his friend; and when he raised him self, and replied to theacknowledgments of the countess, it was with a serene, though glowingcountenance. 

She, when she had glanced from the eager entrance and action of hernephew to the advancing hero, looked as Venus did when she beheld thegod of war rise from a field of blood. She started at the appearanceof Wallace; but it was not his garments dropping gore, nor theblood-stained falchion in his hand, that caused the new sensation; itwas the figure breathing youth and manhood; it was the face, whereevery noble passion of the heart had stamped themselves on his perfectfeatures; it was his air, where majesty and sweet entrancing gracemingled in manly union. They were all these that struck at once uponthe sight of Lady Mar and made her exclaim within herself, "This is awonder of man! This is the hero that is to humble Edward!-tobless-whom?" was her thought. "Oh, no woman! Let him be a creatureenshrined and holy, for no female heart to dare to love!"

This passed through the mind of the countess in less time than it hasbeen repeated, and when she saw him clasped in her husband's arms, sheexclaimed to herself, "Helen, thou wert right; thy gratitude wasprophetic of a matchless object, while I, wretch that I was, evenwhispered the wish to my traitorous heart, while I gave informationagainst my husband, that this man, the cause of all, might be securedor slain!"

Just as the last idea struck her, Wallace rose from the embrace of hisvenerable friend and met the riveted eye of the countess. Shestammered forth a few expressions of obligation; he attributed herconfusion to the surprise of the moment, and, replying to herrespectfully, turned again to the earl. 

The joy of the venerable chief was unbounded, when he found that ahandful of Scots had put two thousand Southrons to flight, and gainedentire possession of the castle. Wallace, having satisfied the anxiousquestions of his noble auditor, gladly perceived the morning light. Herose from his seat. "I shall take a temporary leave of you, my lord, "said he to the earl; "I must now visit my brave comrades at theirposts, and see the colors of Scotland planted on the citadel. "

Chapter XXIV. 

The Great Tower. 

When Wallace withdrew, Lady Mar, who had detained Murray, whispered tohim, while a blush stained her cheek, that she should like to bepresent at the planting of the standard. Lord Mar declared hiswillingness to accompany her to the spot, and added, "I can besupported thither by the arm of Andrew. " Murray hesitated. "It willbe impossible for my aunt to go; the hall below, and the ground beforethe tower, are covered with slain. "

"Let them be cleared away!" cried she; "for I cannot consent to bedeprived of a spectacle so honorable to my country. "

Murray regarded the pitiless indifference with which she gave thisorder with amazement. "To do that, madam, " said he, "is beyond mypower; the whole ceremony of the colors would be completed long beforeI could clear the earth of half its bleeding load. I will seek apassage for you by some other way. "

Before the earl could make a remark, Murray had disappeared; and afterexploring the lower part of the tower in unavailing search for a way, he met Sir Roger Kirkpatrick issuing from a small door, which, being inshadow, he had hitherto overlooked. It led through the ballium, to theplatform before the citadel. Lord Andrew returned to his uncle andaunt, and informing them of this discovery, gave his arm to Lord Mar, while Kirkpatrick led forward the agitated countess. At this momentthe sun rose behind the purple summit of Ben Lomond. 

When they approached the citadel, Wallace and Sir Alexander Scrymgeourhad just gained its summit. The standard of Edward was yet flying. Wallace looked at it for a moment; then laying his hand on the staff, "Down, thou red dragon, " cried he, "and learn to bow before the Giverof all victory!" Even while speaking, he rent it from the roof; andcasting it over the battlements, planted the lion of Scotland in itsstead. 

As its vast evolvements floated on the air, the cry of triumph, theloud clarion of honest triumph, burst from every heart, horn, andtrumpet below. It was a shout that pierced the skies, and entered thesoul of Wallace with a bliss which seemed a promise of immortality. 

"O God!" cried he, still grasping the staff, and looking up to heaven;"we got not this in possession through our own might, but thy righthand and the light of thy countenance overthrew the enemy! Thine theconquest, thine the glory!"

"Thus we consecrate the day to thee, Power of Heaven!" rejoinedScrymgeour. "And let this standard be thine own; and whithersoever webear it, may we ever find it as the ark of our God!"

Wallace, feeling as if no eye looked on them but that of Heaven, dropped on his knee; and rising again, took Sir Alexander by the hand;"My brave friend, " said he, "we have here planted the tree of freedomin Scotland. Should I die in its defense, swear to bury me under itsbranches; swear that no enslaved grounds shall cover my remains. "

"I swear, " cried Scrymgeour, laying his crossed hands upon the arm ofWallace; "I swear with a double vow; by the blood of my braveancestors, whose valor gave me the name I bear; by the cross of St. Andrew; and by your valiant self, never to sheath my sword, while Ihave life in my body, until Scotland be entirely free!"

The colors fixed, Wallace and his brave colleague descended the tower;and perceiving the earl and countess, who sat on a stone bench at theend of the platform, approached them. The countess rose as the chiefsdrew near. Lord Mar took his friend by the hand, with a gratulation inhis eyes that was unutterable; his lady spoke, hardly conscious of whatshe said; and Wallace, after a few minutes' discourse, proposed to theearl to retire with Lady Mar into the citadel, where she would be moresuitably lodged than in their late prison. Lord Mar was obeying thismovement, when suddenly stopping, he exclaimed, "but where is thatwondrous boy-your pilot over these perilous rocks? let me give him asoldier's thanks?"

Happy at so grateful a demand, Wallace beckoned Edwin, who, justrelieved from his guard, was standing at some distance. "Here, " saidhe, "is my knight of fifteen! for last night he proved himself moreworthy of his spurs than many a man who has received them from a king. "

"He shall wear those of a king, " rejoined the Lord Mar, unbuckling fromhis feet a pair of golden spurs; "these were fastened on my heels byour great king, Alexander, at the battle of Largs. I had intended themfor my only son; but the first knight in the cause of rescued Scotlandis the son of my heart and soul!"

As he spoke, he would have pressed the young hero to his breast; butEdwin, trembling with emotion, slid down upon his knees, and claspingthe earl's hand, said, in a hardly audible voice, "Receive and pardonthe truant son of your sister Ruthven!"

"What!" exclaimed the veteran, "is it Edwin Ruthven that has brought methis weight of honor? Come to my arms, thou dearest child of mydearest Janet?"

The uncle and nephew were folded in each other's embrace. Lady Marwept, and Wallace, unable to bear the remembrance which such a scenepressed upon his heart, turned away toward the battlements. Edwinmurmured a short explanation in the ear of his uncle; and then risingfrom his arms, with his beautiful face glittering like an April day intears, allowed his gay cousin Murray to buckle the royal spurs on hisfeet. The rite over, he kissed Lord Andrew's hand in token ofacknowledgment; and called on Sir William Wallace to bless the newhonors conferred on his knight. 

Wallace turned toward Edwin, with a smile which partook more of heaventhan of earth. "Have we not performed our mutual promises?" said he;"I brought you to the spot where you were to reveal your name, and youhave declared it to me by the voice of glory! Come, then, my brother, let us leave your uncle awhile to seek his repose. "

As he spoke, he bowed to the countess; and Edwin joyfully receiving hisarm, they walked together toward the eastern postern. Agitated withthe delightful surprise of thus meeting his favorite sister's son (whomhe had never seen since his infancy), and exhausted by the variety ofhis late emotions, the earl speedily acquiesced in a proposal for rest, and leaning on Lord Andrew, proceeded to the citadel. 

The countess had other attractions: lingering at the side of the roughknight of Torthorald, she looked back, and when she saw the object ofher gaze disappear through the gates, she sighed, and turning to herconductor, walked by him in silence till they joined her husband in thehall of the keep. Murray led the way into the apartments latelyoccupied by De Valence. They were furnished with all the luxury of aSouthron nobleman. Lady Mar cast her eyes around the splendid chamber, and seated herself on one of its tapestried couches. The earl, notmarking whether it were silk or rushes, placed himself beside her. Murray drew a stool toward them, while Kirkpatrick, tired of hisgallant duty, abruptly took his leave. 

"My dear Andrew, " said the earl, "in the midst of this proud rejoicingthere is yet a canker at my heart. Tell me, that when my beloved Helendisappeared in the tumult at Bothwell, she was under your protection?"

"She was, " replied Murray; "and I thank the holy St. Fillan, she is nowin the sanctuary of his church. "

Murray then recounted to his relieved uncle every event, from themoment of his withdrawing behind the arras, to that of his confidingthe English soldier with the iron box to the care of the prior. LordMar sighed heavily when he spoke of that mysterious casket. "Whateverit contained, " said he, "it has drawn after it much evil and much good. The domestic peace of Wallace was ruined by it; and the spirit whichnow restores Scotland to herself was raised by his wrongs. "

"But tell me, " added he, "do you think my daughter safe, so near agarrison of the enemy?"

"Surely, my lord, " cried the countess, too well remembering theenthusiasm with which Helen had regarded even the unknown Wallace:"surely you would not bring that tender child into a scene like this!Rather send a messenger to convey her secretly to Thirlestan; at thatdistance she will be safe, and under the powerful protection of hergrandfather. "

The earl acquiesced in her opinion; and saying he would consult withWallace about the securest mode of travel for his daughter, againturned to Lord Andrew, to learn further of their late proceedings. Butthe countess, still uneasy, once more interrupted him. 

"Alas! my lord, what would you do? His generous zeal will offer to goin person for your daughter. We know not what dangers he might thenincur; and surely the champion of Scotland is not to be thrown intoperil for any domestic concern! If you really feel the weight of theevils into which you have plunged Sir William Wallace, do not increaseit, by even hinting to him the present subject of your anxiety. "

"My aunt is an oracle!" resumed Murray. "Allow me to be the happyknight that is to bear the surrender of Dumbarton to my sweet cousin. Prevail on Wallace to remain in this garrison till I return; and thenfull tilt for the walls of old Sterling, and the downfall of HughieCressingham!"

Both the countess and the earl were pleased with this arrangement. Thelatter, by the persuasions of his nephew, retired into an inner chamberto repose; and the former desired Lord Andrew to inform Wallace thatshe should expect to be honored with his presence at noon, to partakeof such fare as the garrison afforded. 

On Murray's coming from the citadel, he learned that Wallace was gonetoward the great tower. He followed him thither; and on issuing fromthe postern which led to that part of the rock, saw the chief standing, with his helmet off, in the midst of the slain. 

"This is a sorry sight!" said he to Murray, as he approached; "but itshall not long lie thus exposed. I have just ordered that these sadwrecks of human strife may be lowered into the Clyde; its rushingstream will soon carry them to a quiet grave beneath yon peaceful sea. " His own dead, amounting to no more than fifteen, were to be buried atthe foot of the rock, a prisoner in the castle having described stepsin the cliff by which the solemnity could easily be performed. 

"But why, my dear commander, " cried Lord Andrew, "why do you take anythought about our enemies? Leave them where they are, and the eaglesof our mountains will soon find them graves. "

"For shame, Murray!" was the reply of Wallace; "they are dead, and ourenemies no more. They are men like ourselves, and shall we deny them aplace in that earth whence we all sprung? We war not with humannature; are we not rather the asserters of her rights?"

"I know, " replied Lord Andrew, blushing, "that I am often the asserterof my own folly; and I do not know how you will forgive myinconsiderate impertinence. "

"Because it was inconsiderate, " replied Wallace. "Inhumanity is toostern a guest to live in such a breast as yours. "

"If I ever give her quarters, " replied Murray, "I should most wofullydisgrace the companion she must meet there. Next to the honor of fairScotland, my cousin Helen is the goddess of my idolatry; and she wouldforswear my love and kindred, could she believe me capable of feelingotherwise than in unison with Sir William Wallace. "

Wallace looked toward him with a benign pleasure in his countenance. "Your fair cousin does me honor. "

"Ah! my noble friend, " cried Murray, lowering his gay tone to one ofsofter expression; "if you knew all the goodness, all the noblenessthat dwells in her gentle heart, you would indeed esteem her-you wouldlove her as I do. "

The blood fled from the cheek of Wallace. "Not as you do, Murray; Ican no more love a woman as you love her. Such scenes as these, " criedhe, turning to the mangled bodies which the men were now carrying awayto the precipice of the Clyde, "have divorced woman's love from myheart. I am all my country's, or I am nothing. "

"Nothing!" reiterated Murray, laying his hand upon that of Wallace, asit rested upon the hilt of the sword on which he leaned. "Is thefriend of mankind, the champion of Scotland, the beloved of a thousandvaluable hearts, nothing? Nay, art thou not the agent of Heaven, to bethe scourge of a tyrant? Art thou not the deliverer of thy country?"

Wallace turned his bright eye upon Murray with an expression of mingledfeelings. "May I be all this, my friend, and Wallace must yet behappy! But speak not to me of love and woman; tell me not of thoseendearing qualities I have prized too tenderly, and which are nowburied to me forever beneath the ashes of Ellerslie. "

"Not under the ashes of Ellerslie, " cried Murray, "sleep the remains ofyour lovely wife. " Wallace's penetrating eye turned quick upon him. Murray continued: "My cousin's pitying soul stretched itself towardthem; by her directions they were brought from your oratory in therock, and deposited, with all holy rites, in the cemetery at Bothwell. "

The glow that now animated the before chilled heart of Wallace, overspread his face. His eyes spoke volumes of gratitude, his lipsmoved, but his feelings were too big for utterance, and, ferventlypressing the hand of Murray, to conceal emotions ready to shake hismanhood, he turned away, and walked toward the cliff. 

When all the slain were lowered to their last beds, a young priest, whocame in the company of Scrymgeour, gave the funeral benediction both tothe departed in the waves, and those whom the shore had received. Therites over, Murray again drew near to Wallace and delivered his aunt'smessage. "I shall obey her commands, " returned he; "but first we mustvisit our wounded prisoners in the tower. "

Above three hundred of them had been discovered amongst the dead. 

Murray gladly obeyed the impulse of his leader's arm; and, followed bythe chieftains returned from the late solemn duty, they entered thetower. Ireland welcomed Wallace with the intelligence that he hoped hehad succored friends instead of foes, for that most of the prisonerswere poor Welsh peasants, whom Edward had torn from their mountains toserve in his legions; and a few Irish, who in the heat of blood, andeagerness for adventure, had enlisted in his ranks. "I have shown tothem, " continued Ireland, "what fools they are to injure themselves inus. I told the Welsh they were clinching their own chains by assistingto extend the dominion of their conqueror; and I have convinced theIrish they were forging fetters for themselves by lending their help toenslave their brother nation, the free-born Scots. They only requireyour presence, my lord, to forswear their former leaders, and to enlistunder Scottish banners. "

"Thou art an able orator, my good Stephen, " returned Wallace; "andwhatever promises thou hast made to honest men in the name of Scotland, we are ready to ratify them. Is it not so?" added he, turning toKirkpatrick and Scrymgeour. "

"All as you will, " replied they in one voice. "Yes, " addedKirkpatrick; "you were the first to rise for Scotland, and who but youhas a right to command for her?"

Ireland threw open the door which led into the hall, and there, on theground, on pallets of straw, lay most of the wounded Southrons. Someof their dimmed eyes had discerned their preserver, when he discoveredthem expiring on the rock; and on sight of him now, they uttered such apiercing cry of gratitude, that, surprised, he stood for a moment. Inthat moment, five or six of the poor wounded wretches crawled to hisfeet. "Our friend! our preserver!" burst from their lips, as theykissed the edge of his plaid. 

"Not to me, not to me!" exclaimed Wallace. "I am a soldier likeyourselves. I have only acted a soldier's part; but I am a soldier offreedom, you of a tyrant, who seeks to enslave the world. This makesthe difference between us; this lays you at my feet, when I would morewillingly receive you into my arms as brothers in one generous cause. "

"We are yours, " was the answering exclamation of those who knelt, andof those who raised their feebler voices from their beds of straw. Afew only remained silent. With many kind expressions of acceptance, Wallace disengaged himself from those who clung around him, and thenmoved toward the sick, who seemed too ill to speak. While repeatingthe same consolatory language to them, he particularly observed an oldman who was lying between two young ones, and still kept a profoundsilence. His rough features were marked with many a scar, but therewas a meek resignation in her face that powerfully struck Wallace. When the chief drew near, the veteran raised himself on his arm, andbowed his head with a respectful air. Wallace stopped. "You are anEnglishman?"

"I am, sir, and have no services to offer you. These two young men oneach side of me are my sons. There brother I lost last night in theconflict. To-day, by your mercy, not only my life is preserved, but mytwo remaining children also. Yet I am an Englishman, and I cannot begrateful at the expense of my allegiance. "

"Nor would I require it of you, " returned Wallace; "these brave Welshand Irish were brought hither by the invader who subjugates theircountries; they owe him no duty. But you are a free subject ofEngland; he that is a tyrant over others can only be a king to you; hemust be the guardian of your laws, the defender of your liberties, orhis scepter falls. Having sworn to follow a sovereign so plighted, Iam not severe enough to condemn you, because, misled by that phantomwhich he calls glory, you have suffered him to betray you into unjustconquests. "

"Once I have been so misled, " returned the old man; "but I never willagain. Fifty years I have fought under the British standard, inNormandy and in Palestine; and now in my old age, with four sons, Ifollowed the armies of my sovereign into Scotland. My eldest I lost onthe plains of Dunbar. My second fell last night; and my two youngestare now by my side. You have saved them and me. What can I do? Not, as your noble self says, forswear my country; but this I swear, and inthe oath do you, my sons, join (as he spoke they laid their crossedhands upon his, in token of assent), never to lift an arm against SirWilliam Wallace or the cause of injured Scotland!"

"To this we also subjoin!" cried several other men, who comprised thewhole of the English prisoners. 

"Noble people!" cried Wallace, "why have you not a king worthy of you?"

"And yet, " observed Kirkpatrick, in a surly tone, "Heselrigge was oneof these people!"

Wallace turned upon him with a look of so tremendous a meaning, that, awed by an expression too mighty for him to comprehend, he fell back afew paces, muttering curses, but on whom could not be heard. 

"That man would arouse the tiger in our lion-hearted chief!" whisperedScrymgeour to Murray. 

"Ay, " returned Lord Andrew; "but the royal spirit keeps the beast inawe-see how coweringly that bold spirit now bows before it!"

Wallace marked the impression his glance had made, but where he hadstruck, being unqilling to pierce also, he dispelled the thunder fromhis countenance, and once more looking on Sir Roger with a frankserenity. "Come, " said he, "my good knight; you must not be moretenacious for William Wallace than he is for himself! While hepossesses such a zealous friend as Kirkpatrick of Torthorald, he neednot now fear the arms of a thousand Heselrigges. "

"No, nor of Edwards either, " cried Kirkpatrick, once more lookingboldly up, and shaking his broad claymore: "My thistle has a point tosting all to death who would pass between this arm and my leader'sbreast. "

"May heaven long preserve the valiant Wallace!" was the prayer of everyfeeble voice, as he left the hall to visit his own wounded, in an upperchamber. The interview was short and satisfactory. "Ah! sir, " criedone of them, "I cannot tell how it is, but when I see you, I feel as ifI beheld the very soul of my country, or its guardian angel, standingbefore me-a something I cannot describe, but it fills me with courageand comfort!"

"You see an honest Scot standing before you, my good Duncan, " repliedWallace; "and that is no mean personage; for it is one who knows no useof his life but as it fulfills his duty to his country!"

"Oh that the sound of that voice could penetrate to every ear inScotland!" rejoined the soldier; "it would be more than the call of thetrumpet to bring them to the field!"

"And from the summit of this rock many have already heard it; and moreshall be so aroused!" cried Murray, returning from the door, to whichone of his men had beckoned him; "here is a man come to announce thatMalcolm, Earl of Lennox, passing by the foot of this rock, saw theScottish standard flying from its citadel; and, as overjoyed as amazedat the sight, he sends to request the confidence of being admitted. "

"Let me bring him hither!" interrupted Kirkpatrick; "he is brave as theday, and will be a noble auxiliary. "

"Every true Scot must be welcome to these walls, " returned Wallace. 

Kirkpatrick hastened from the tower to the northern side of the rock, at the foot of which stood the earl and his train. With all the prideof a freeman and a victor, Sir Roger descended the height. Lennoxadvanced to meet him. "What is it I see? Sir Roger Kirkpatrick masterof this citadel, and our king's colors flying from its towers? Whereis the Earl de Valence? Where the English garrison?"

"The English garrison, " replied Kirkpatrick, "are now twelve hundredmen beneath the waters of the Clyde. De Valence is fled; and thisfortress, manned with a few hardy Scots, shall sink into yon waves ereit again bear the English dragon on its walls. "

"And you, noble knight, " cried Lennox, "have achieved all this? Youare the dawn to a blessed day for Scotland!"

"No, " replied Kirkpatrick; "I am but a follower of the man who hasstruck the blow. Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie is our chief; andwith the power of his virtues he subdues not only friends, but enemies, to his command. "

He then exultingly narrated the happy events of the last four andtwenty hours. The earl listened with wonder and joy. "What!" criedhe, "so noble a plan for Scotland, and I ignorant of it?-I, that havenot waked day or night, for many a month, without thinking or dreamingof some enterprise to free my country-and behold it is achieved in amoment! I see the stroke, as a bolt from Heaven; and I pray Heaven itmay light the sacrifice throughout the nation! Lead me, worthy knight, lead me to your chief, for he shall be mine too: he shall commandMalcolm Lennox and all his clan. "

Kirkpatrick gladly turned to obey him; and they mounted the ascenttogether. Within the barbican gate stood Wallace, with Scrymgeour andMurray. The earl knew Scrymgeour well, having often seen him in thefield as hereditary standard-bearer of the kingdom; of the persons ofthe others he was ignorant. 

"There is Wallace!" exclaimed Kirkpatrick. 

"Not one of those very young men?" interrogated the earl. 

"Even so, " was the answer of the knight; "but his is the youth of thebrave son of Ammon; gray beards are glad to bow before his goldenlocks, for beneath them is wisdom. "

As he spoke they entered the barbican; and Wallace (whom thepenetrating eye of Lennox had already singled out for the chief)advanced to meet his guest. 

"Earl, " said he, "you are welcome to Dumbarton Castle. "

"Bravest of my countrymen!" returned Lennox, clasping him in his arms, "receive a soldier's embrace, receive the gratitude of a loyal heart!accept my service, my arms, my men: my all I devote to Scotland and thegreat cause. "

Wallace for a moment did not answer; but warmly straining the earl tohis breast, said, as he released him, "Such support will give sinews toour power. A few months, and with the blessing of that arm which hasalready mowed down the ranks which opposed us, we shall see Scotland atliberty. "

"And may Heaven, brave Wallace!" exclaimed Lennox, "grant us thine armto wield its scythe! But how have you accomplished this? How haveyour few overthrown this English host?"

"He strikes home, when right points his sword, " replied Wallace; "theinjuries of Scotland were my guide, and justice my companion. Wefeared nothing, for God was with us; we feared nothing, and in hismight we conquered. "

"And shall yet conquer!" cried Lennox, kindling with the enthusiasmthat blazed from the eyes of Wallace. "I feel the strength of ourcause; and from this hour, I devote myself to assert it, or to die. "

"Not to die! my noble lord, " said Murray; "we have yet many an eve todance over the buried fetters of Scotland. And as a beginning of ourjollities, I must remind our leader that my aunt's board awaits him. "

Lord Lennox understood from this address it was the brave Murray whospoke to him; for he had heard sufficient from Sir Roger Kirkpatrick toexplain how the Countess of Mar and her patriot husband came withinthose walls. 

The countess, having arrayed herself with all her powers to receive herdeliverer, awaited the hour of his arrival with an emotion at herheart, which made it bound against her bosom, when she saw the objectof her splendid toil advancing along the courtyard. All others werelost to her impatient eyes; and hastily rising from the window as thechiefs entered the porch, she crossed the room to meet them at the door. 

The Earl of Lennox stood amazed at sight of so much beauty and splendorin such a scene. Lady mar had hardly attained her thirty-fifth year;but from the graces of her person, and the address with which she setforth all her charms, the enchanted gazer found it impossible tosuppose her more than three or four and twenty. Thus happily formed bynature, and habited in a suit of velvet, overlaid with Cyprus-work ofgold, blazing with jewels, about her head, and her feet clad insilver-fretted sandals, Lennox thought she looked more like sometriumphant queen, than a wife who had so lately shared captivity withan outlawed husband. ** Murray started at such unexpected magnificencein his aunt. But Wallace scarcely observed it was anything unusual, and bowing to her, presented the Earl of Lennox. She smiled; andsaying a few words of welcome to the earl, gave her hand to Wallace tolead her back into the chamber. 

**This is the style for state dress worn by noble ladies in thethirteenth century. 

Lord Mar had risen from his seat; and leaning on his sword (for hiswarlike arm refused any other staff), stood up on their entrance. Atsight of Lord Lennox, he uttered an exclamation of glad surprise. Lennox embraced him. "I, too, am come to enlist under the banners ofthis young Leonidas. "

"God armeth the patriot, " was all the reply that Mar made, while thebig tears rolled over his cheek, and he shook him by the hand. 

"I have four hundred stout Lennox men, " continued the earl, "who byto-morrow's eve shall be ready to follow our leader to the veryborders. "

"Not so soon, " interrupted the countess; "our deliverer needs repose. "

"I thank your benevolence, Lady Mar, " returned Wallace; "but the issueof last night, and the sight of Lord Lennox this day, with the promiseof so great a support, are such aliments that-we must go forward. "

"Ay, to be sure, " joined Kirkpatrick; "Dumbarton was not taken duringour sleep; and if we stay loitering here, the devil that holds StirlingCastle may follow the scent of De Valence; and so I lose my prey!"

"What?" cried the countess, "and is my lord to be left again to hisenemies? Sir William Wallace, I should have thought-"

"Everything, madam, " rejoined he; "that is demonstrative of my devotionto your venerable lord! But with a brave garrison, I hope you willconsider him safe here, until a wider range of security be won, toenable you to retire to Braemar. "

As the apostrophe to Wallace, in the latter part of the countess'speech, had been addressed to himself in rather a low voice, his replywas made in a similar tone, so that Lord Mar did not hear any part ofthe answer, except the concluding words. But then he exclaimed, "Nay, my ever-fearful Joanna, art thou making objections to keeping garrisonhere?"

"I confess, " replied Wallace, "that an armed citadel is not the mostpleasant abode for a lady; but at present, excepting perhaps thechurch, it is the safest; and I would not advise your lady to removehence, until the plain be made as free as this mountain. "

The sewer now announced the board in the hall; and the countess leadingthe way, reluctantly gave her hand to the Earl of Lennox. Lord Marleaned on the arm of Wallace, who was followed by Edwin and the otherchieftains. 

Chapter XXV. 

The Citadel. 

During the repast, the countess often fixed her unrestrained gaze onthe manly yet youthful countenance of the heroic Wallace. His plumedhelmet was now laid aside; and the heavy corselet unbuckled from hisbreast, disclosing the symmetry of his fine form, left its gracefulmovements to be displayed with advantage by the flexible folds of hissimple tartan vest. Was it the formidable Wallace she looked on, bathed in the blood of Heselrigge, and breathing vengeance against theadherents of the tyrant Edward! It was, then, the enemy of her kinsmenof the house of Cummin! It was the man for whom her husband hadembraced so many dangers! It was the man whom she had denounced to oneof those kinsmen, and whom she had betrayed to the hazard of anignominious death! But where now was the fierce rebel-the ruiner ofher peace-the outlaw whom she had wished in his grave?

The last idea was distraction. She could have fallen at his feet, andbathing them with her tears, have implored his pity and forgiveness. Even as the wish sprung in her mind, she asked herself-"Did he knowall, could he pardon such a weight of injuries?" She cast her eyeswith a wild expression upon his face. The mildness of heaven wasthere; and the peace, too, she might have thought, had not his eyecarried a chastened sadness in its look, which told that something direand sorrowful was buried deep within. It was a look that dissolved thesoul which gazed on it. The countess felt her heart throb violently. At that moment Wallace addressed a few words to her but she knew notwhat they were; her soul was in tumults, and a mist passed over hersight, which, for a moment, seemed to wrap all her senses in a trance. 

The unconscious object of these emotions bowed to her inarticulatereply, supposing that the mingling voices of others had made him hearhers indistinctly. 

Lady Mar found her situation so strange, and her agitation soinexplicable, that feeling it impossible to remain longer withoutgiving way to a burst of tears, she rose from her seat, and forcing asmile with her courtesy to the company, left the room. 

On gaining the upper apartment, she threw herself upon the nearestcouch, and striking her breast, exclaimed: "What is this within me?How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man! Oh! how does itextend itself, as if it would absorb his, even at my eyes! Only twelvehours-hardly twelve hours, have I seen this William Wallace, and yet myvery being is now lost in his!"

While thus speaking, she covered her face with her handkerchief, but notears now started to be wiped away. The fire in her veins dried thesource, and with burning blushes she rose from her seat. "Fatal, fatalhour! Why didst thou come here, too infatuating Wallace, to rob me ofmy peace? Oh! why did I ever look on that face?-or rather, blessedsaints!" cried she, clasping her hands in wild passion, "why did I evershackle this hand?-why did I ever render such a sacrifice necessary?Wallace is now free; had I been free? But wretch, wretch, wretch; Icould tear out this betrayed heart! I could trample on that of theinfatuated husband that made me such a slave!" She gasped for breath, and again seating herself, reclined her beating temples against thecouch. 

She was now silent; but thoughts not less intense, not less fraughtwith self-reproach and anguish, occupied her mind. Should this god ofher idolatry ever discover that it was her information which had sentEarl de Valence's men to surround him in the mountains; should he everlearn that at Bothwell she had betrayed the cause on which he had sethis life, she felt that moment would be her last. For, now, to sateher eyes with gazing on him, to hear the sound of his voice, to receivehis smiles, seemed to her a joy she could only surrender with herexistence. What then was the prospect of so soon losing him, even tocrown himself with honor, but to her a living death?

TO defer his departure was all her study-all her hope; and fearful thathis restless valor might urge him to accompany Murray in his intendedconvoy of Helen to the Tweed, she determined to persuade her nephew toset off without the knowledge of his general. She did not allow thatit was the youthful beauty, and more lovely mind of herdaughter-in-law, which she feared; even to herself she cloaked heralarm under the plausible excuse of care for the chieftain's safety. Composed by this mental arrangement, her disturbed features becamesmooth, and with even a sedate air she received her lord and his bravefriends, when they soon after entered the chamber. 

But the object of her wishes did not appear. Wallace had taken LordLennox to view the dispositions of the fortress. Ill satisfied as shewas with his prolonged absence, she did not fail to turn it toadvantage; and while her lord and his friends were examining a draft ofScotland (which Wallace had sketched after she left thebanqueting-room), she took Lord Andrew aside, to converse with him onthe subject now nearest to her heart. 

"It certainly belongs to me alone, her kinsman and friend, to protectHelen to the Tweed, if there she must go, " returned Murray; "but, mygood lady, I cannot comprehend why I am to lead my fair cousin such apilgrimage. She is not afraid of heroes! you are safe in Dumbarton, and why not bring her here also?"

"Not for worlds!" exclaimed the countess, thrown off her guard. Murraylooked at her with surprise. It recalled her to self-possession, andshe resumed: "So lovely a creature in this castle would be a dangerousmagnet. You must have known that it was the hope of obtaining herwhich attracted the Lord Soulis and Earl de Valence to Bothwell. Thewhole castle rung with the quarrel of these two lords upon her account, when you so fortunately effected her escape. Should it be known thatshe is here, the same fierce desire of obtaining her would give doubleincitement to De Valence to recover the place; and the consequences, who can answer for?"

By this argument Murray was persuaded to relinquish the idea ofconveying Helen to Dumbarton; but remembering what Wallace had saidrespecting the safety of a religious sanctuary, he advised that sheshould be left at St. Fillan's till the cause of Scotland might be morefirmly established. "Send a messenger to inform her of the rescue ofDumbarton, and of your and my uncle's health, " continued he, "and thatwill be sufficient to make her happy. "

That she was not to be thrown in Wallace's way satisfied Lady Mar; andindifferent whether Helen's seclusion were under the Elidon tree or theHolyrood, she approved Murray's decision. Relieved from apprehension, her face became again dressed in smiles, and, with a bounding step, sherose to welcome the re-entrance of Wallace with the Earl of Lennox. 

Absorbed in one thought, every charm she possessed was directed to thesame point. She played finely on the lute and sung with all the graceof her country. What gentle heart was not to be affected by music?She determined it should be once of the spells by which she meant toattract Wallace. She took up one of the lutes (which with othermusical instruments decorated the apartments of the luxurious DeValence), and touching it with exquisite delicacy, breathed the mostpathetic air her memory could dictate. 

"If on the heath she moved, her breast was whiter than the down of Cana;If on the sea-beat shore, than the foam of the rolling ocean. Her eyes were two stars of light. Her face was Heaven's bow in-showers;Her dark hair flowed around it, like the streaming clouds, Thou wert the dweller of souls, white-handed Strinadona!"

Wallace rose from his chair, which had been placed near her. She haddeigned that these tender words of the bard of Morven should suggest toher hearer the observation of her own resembling beauties. But he sawin them only the lovely dweller of his own soul; and walking toward awindow, stood there with his eyes fixed on the descending sun. "Sohath set all my joys. So is life to me, a world without a sun-cold, cold, and charmless!"

The countess vainly believed that some sensibility advantageous to hernew passion had caused the agitation with which she saw him depart fromher side; and, intoxicated with the idea, she ran through many amelodious descant, till toughing on the first strains of Thusa ha measgna reultan mor, she saw Wallace start from his contemplative position, and with a pale countenance leave the room. There was something inthis abruptness which excited the alarm of the Earl of Lennox, who hadalso been listening to the songs; he rose instantly, and overtaking thechief at the threshold, inquired what was the matter? "Nothing, "answered Wallace, forcing a smile, in which the agony of his mind wastoo truly imprinted; "but music displeased me. " With this reply hedisappeared. The excuse seemed strange but it was true; for she whosenotes were to him sweeter than the thrush-whose angel strains used togreet his morning and evening hours-was silent in the grave! He shouldno more see her white hand upon the lute; he should no more behold thatbosom, brighter than foam upon the wave, to him? A soulless sound, ora direful knell, to recall the remembrance of all he had lost. 

Such were his thoughts when the words of Thusa ha measg rung from LadyMar's voice. Those were the strains which Halbert used to breathe fromhis heart to call Marion to her nightly slumbers-those were the strainswith which that faithful servant had announced that she slept to wakeno more!

What wonder, then, that Wallace fled from the apartment, and buriedhimself, and his aroused grief, amid the distant solitudes of thebeacon-hill!

While looking over the shoulder of his uncle, on the station whichStirling held amid the Ochil hills, Edwin had at intervals cast aside-long glance upon the changing complexion of his commander; and nosooner did he see him hurry from the room, than fearful of somedisaster having befallen the garrison (which Wallace did not chooseimmediately to mention), he also stole out of the apartment. 

After seeking the object of his anxiety for a long time, without avail, he was returning on his steps, when, attracted by the splendor of themoon silvering the beacon-hill, he ascended, to once at least treadthat acclivity in light which he had so miraculously passed indarkness. Scarce a zephyr fanned the sleeping air. He moved on with aflying step, till a deep sigh arrested him. He stopped and listened:it was repeated again and again. He gently drew near, and saw a humanfigure reclining on the ground. The head of the apparent mourner wasunbonneted, and the brightness of the moon shone on his polishedforehead. Edwin thought the sound of those sighs was the same he hadoften heard from the object of his search. He walked forward. Againthe figure sighed; but with a depth so full of piercing woe, that Edwinhesitated. 

A cloud had passed over the moon; but, sailing off again, displayed tothe anxious boy that he had indeed drawn very near his friend. "Whogoes there?" exclaimed Wallace, starting on his feet. 

"Your Edwin, " returned the youth. "I feared something wrong hadhappened, when I saw you look so sad, and leave the room abruptly. "

Wallace pressed his hand in silence. "Then some evil has befallenyou?" inquired Edwin, in an agitated voice; "you do not speak!"

Wallace seated himself on a stone, and leaned his head upon the hilt ofhis sword. "No new evil has befallen me, Edwin; but there is such athing as remembrance, that stabs deeper than the dagger's point. "

"What remembrance can wound you, my general? The Abbott of St. Colombahas often told me that memory is a balm to every ill with the good; andhave not you been good to all? The benefactor, the preserver ofthousands! Surely, if man can be happy, it must be Sir WilliamWallace!"

"And so I am, my Edwin, when I contemplate the end. But, in theinterval, with all thy sweet philosophy, is it not written here 'thatman was made to mourn?'" He put his hand on his heart; and then, aftera short pause, resumed: "Doubly I mourn, doubly am I bereaved, for, hadit not been for an enemy, more fell than he who beguiled Adam ofParadise, I might have been a father; I might have lived to havegloried in a son like thee; I might have seen my wedded angel claspsuch a blessing to her bosom; but now, both are cold in clay! Theseare the recollections which sometimes draw tears down thy leader'scheeks. And do not believe, brother of my soul, " said he, pressing thenow weeping Edwin to his breast, "that they disgrace his manhood. TheSon of God wept over the tomb of his friend; and shall I deny a fewtears, dropped in stealth, over the grave of my wife and child?"

Edwin sobbed aloud. "No son could love you dearer than I do. Ah, letmy duty, my affection, teach you to forget you have lost a child. Iwill replace all to you but your Marion; and her, the pitying Son ofMary will restore to you in the kingdom of heaven. "

Wallace looked steadfastly at the young preacher. "'Out of the mouthsof babes we shall hear wisdom!' Thine, dear Edwin, I will lay toheart. Thou shalt comfort me when my hermit-soul shuts out all theworld besides. "

"Then I am indeed your brother!" cried the happy youth; "admit me butto your heart, and no fraternal, no filial tie, shall be more stronglylinked than mine. "

"What tender affections I can spare from those resplendent regions, "answered Wallace, pointing to the skies, "are thine. The fervors of myonce ardent soul are Scotland's, or I die. But thou art too young, mybrother, " added he, interrupting himself, "to understand all hisfeelings, all the seeming contradictions, of my contending heart. "

"Not so, " answered Edwin, with a modest blush; "what was Lady Marion's, you now devote to Scotland. The blaze of those affections which werehers, would consume your being, did you not pour it forth on yourcountry. Were you not a patriot, grief would prey upon your life. "

"You have read me, Edwin, " replied Wallace; "and that you may neverlove to idolatry, learn this also. Though Scotland lay in ruins, I washappy; I felt no captivity while in Marion's arms; even oppression wasforgotten when she made the sufferer's tears cease to flow. Sheabsorbed my thoughts, my wishes, my life!-and she was wrested from me, that I might feel myself a slave, that the iron might enter into mysoul, with which I was to pull down tyranny, and free my country. Markthe sacrifice, young man, " cried Wallace, starting on his feet; "it noweven smokes, and the flames are here inextinguishable. " He struck hishand upon his breast. "Never love as I have loved, and you will be apatriot, without needing to taste my bitter cup!"

Edwin trembled; his tears were checked. "I can love no one better thanI do you, my general! and is there any crime in that?"

Wallace in a moment recovered from the transient wildness which hadpossessed him. "None, my Edwin, " replied he; "the affections are nevercriminal but when by their excess they blind us to other duties. Theoffense of mine is judged, and I bow to the penalty. When that ispaid, then may my ashes sleep in rescued Scotland! Then may the God ofvictory and of mercy grant that the seraph spirits of my wife andinfant may meet my pardoned soul in paradise. " Edwin wept afresh. "Cease, dear boy!" said he; "these presages are very comforting; theywhisper that the path of glory leads thy brother to his home. " As hespoke he took the arm of the silent Edwin (whose sensibility locked upthe powers of speech), and putting it through his, they descended thehill together. 

On the open ground before the great tower they were met by Murray. "Icome to seek you, " cried he. "We have had woe on woe in the citadelsince you left it. "

"Nothing very calamitous, " returned Wallace, "if we may guess by themerry aspect of the messenger. "

"Only a little whirlwind of my aunt's, in which we have had airs andshowers enough to wet us through and blow us dry again. "

The conduct of the lady had been even more extravagant than her nephewchose to describe. After the knight's departure, when the chiefsentered into conversation respecting his future plans, and Lennoxmentioned that when his men should arrive (for whom he had that eveningdispatched Ker), it was Wallace's intention to march immediately forStirling, whither, it could hardly be doubted, Aymer de Valence hadfled, "I shall be left here, " continued the earl, "to assist you, LordMar, in the severer duties attendant on being governor of this place. "

No sooner did these words reach the ears of the countess than, struckwith despair, she hastened toward her husband, and earnestly exclaimed, "You will not suffer this!"

"No, " returned the earl, mistaking her meaning; "not being able toperform the duties attendant on the responsibilities station with whichWallace would honor me, I shall relinquish it altogether to LordLennox, and be amply satisfied in finding myself under his protection. "

"Ah, where is protection without Sir William Wallace?" cried she. "Ifhe go, our enemies will return. Who then will repel them from thesewalls? Who will defend your wife and only son from falling again intothe hands of our doubly incensed foes?"

Mar observed Lord Lennox color at this imputation on his bravery, andshocked at the affront which his unreflecting wife seemed to give sogallant a chief, he hastily replied, "Though this wounded arm cannotboast, yet the Earl of Lennox is an able representative of ourcommander. "

"I will die, madam, " interrupted Lennox, "before anything hostileapproaches you or your children. "

She attended slightly to this pledge, and again addressed her lord withfresh arguments for the detention of Wallace. Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, impatient under all this foolery, as he justly deemed it, abruptlysaid, "Be assured, fair lady, Israel's Samson was not brought into theworld his duty better than allow himself to be tied to any nurserygirdle in Christendom. "

The brave old earl was offended with this roughness, but ere he couldso express himself, the object darted her own severe retort onKirkpatrick, and then, turning to her husband, with an hysterical sob, exclaimed, "It is well seen what will be my fate when Wallace is gone!Would he have stood by and beheld me thus insulted?"

Distressed with shame at her conduct, and anxious to remove her fears, Lord Mar softly whispered her, and threw his arm about her waist. Shethrust him from her. "You care not what may become of me, and my heartdisdains your blandishments. "

Lennox rose in silence, and walked to the other end of the chamber. Sir Roger Kirkpatrick followed him, muttering, pretty audibly, histhanks to St. Andrew that he had never been yoked with a wife. Scrymgeour and Murray tried to allay the storm in her bosom bycircumstantially detailing how the fortress must be equally safe underthe care of Lennox as of Wallace. But they discoursed in vain; she wasobstinate, and at last left the room in a passion of tears. 

On the return of Wallace, Lord Lennox advanced to meet him. "Whatshall we do?" said he. "Without you have the witchcraft of Hercules, and can be in two places at once, I fear we must either leave the restof Scotland to fight for itself, or never restore peace to this castle!"

Wallace smiled, but before he could answer, Lady Mar, having heard hisvoice ascending the stairs, suddenly entered the room. She held herinfant in her arms. Her air was composed, but her eyes yet shone intears. At this sight Lord Lennox, sufficiently disgusted with thelady, taking Murray by the arm, withdrew with him from the apartment. 

She approached Wallace: "You are come, my deliverer, to speak comfortto the mother of this poor babe. My cruel lord here, and the Earl ofLennox, say you mean to abandon us in this castle?"

"It cannot be abandoned, " returned the chief, "while they are in it. But if so warlike a scene alarms you, would not a religious sanctuary-"

"Not for worlds!" cried she, interrupting him; "what altar is heldsacred by the enemies of our country! O! wonder not, then, " added she, putting her face to that of her child, "that I should wish thisinnocent babe never to be from under the wing of such a protector. "

"But that is impossible, Joanna, " rejoined the earl; "Sir WilliamWallace has duties to perform superior to that of keeping watch overany private family. His presence is wanted in the field, and we shouldbe traitors to the cause did we detain him. "

"Unfeeling Mar, " cried she, bursting into tears, "thus to echo thewords of the barbarian Kirkpatrick; thus to condemn us to die! Youwill see another tragedy: your own wife and child seized by thereturning Southrons, and laid bleeding at your feet!"

Wallace walked from her much agitated. 

"Rather inhuman, Joanna, " whispered Lord Mar to her in an angry voice, "to make such a reference to the presence of our protector! I cannotstay to listen to a pertinacity as insulting to the rest of our braveleaders as it is oppressive to Sir William Wallace. Edwin, you willcome for me when your aunt consents to be guided by right reason. "While yet speaking he entered the passage that led to his own apartment. 

Lady Mar sat a few minutes silent. She was not to be warned from herdetermination by the displeasure of a husband whom she now regardedwith the impatience of a bondwoman toward her taskmaster; and onlysolicitous to compass the detention of Sir William Wallace, sheresolved, if he would not remain at the castle, to persuade him toconduct her himself to her husband's territories in the Isle of Bute. She could contrive to make the journey occupy more than one day, andfor holding him longer she would trust to chance and her owninventions. With these resolutions she looked up. Edwin was speakingto Wallace. "What does he tell you?" said she; "that my lord has leftme in displeasure? Alas! he comprehends not a mother's anxiety for hersole remaining child. One of my sweet twins, my dear daughter, died onmy being brought a prisoner to this horrid fortress, and to lose thisalso would be more than I could bear. Look at this babe, " cried she, holding it up to him; "let it plead to you for its life! Guard it, noble Wallace, whatever may become of me!"

The appeal of a mother made instant way to Sir William's heart; evenher weaknesses, did they point to anxiety respecting her offspring, were sacred with him. "What would you have me do, madam? If you fearto remain here, tell me where you think you would be safer, and I willbe your conductor?"

She paused to repress the triumph with which this proposal filled her, and then, with downcast eyes, replied: "In the seagirt Bute standsRothsay, a rude, but strong castle of my lord's. It possesses nothingto attract the notice of the enemy, and there I might remain in perfectsafety. Lord Mar may keep his station here until a general victorysends you, noble Wallace, to restore my child to its father. "

Wallace bowed his assent to her proposal; and Edwin, remembering theearl's injunction, inquired if he might inform him of what was decided. When he left the room, Lady mar rose, and suddenly putting her soninto the arms of Wallace, rose, and said: "Let his sweet caresses thankyou. " Wallace trembled as he pressed its little mouth to his; and, mistranslating this emotion, she dropped her face upon the infant's, and in affecting to kiss it, rested her head upon the bosom of thechief. There was something in this action more than maternal; itsurprised and disconcerted Wallace. "Madam, " said he, drawing back, and relinquishing the child. "I do not require any thanks for servingthe wife and son of Lord Mar. "

At that moment the earl entered. Lady mar flattered herself that therepelling action of Wallace, and his cold answer, had arisen from theexpectation of this entrance; yet blushing with something likedisappointment, she hastily uttered a few agitated words, to inform herhusband that Bute was to be her future sanctuary. 

Lord Mar approved it, and declared his determination to accompany her. "In my state, I can be of little use here, " said he; "my family willrequire protection, even in that seclusion; and therefore, leaving LordLennox sole governor of Dumbarton, I shall unquestionably attend themto Rothsay myself. "

This arrangement would break in upon the lonely conversations she hadmeditated to have with Wallace and therefore the countess objected tothe proposal. But none of her arguments being admitted by her lord, and as Wallace did not support them by a word, she was obliged to makea merit of necessity, and consent to her husband being their companion. 

Chapter XXVI. 

Renfrewshire. 

Toward evening the next day, Ker not only returned with the Earl ofLennox's men, but brought with them Sir Eustace Maxwell of Carlaveroch. That brave knight happened to be in the neighborhood the very samenight in which De Valence fled before the arms of Wallace across theClyde; and he no sooner saw the Scottish colors on the walls ofDumbarton, than, finding out who was their planter, his soul took fire;and stung with a generous ambition of equaling in glory his equal inyears, he determined to assist, while he emulated the victor. 

To this end, he traversed the adjoining country, striving to enlightenthe understandings of the stupidly satisfied and to excite thediscontented, to revolt. With most he failed. Some took upon them tolecture him on "fishing in troubled waters;" and warned him, if hewould keep his head on his shoulders, to wear his yoke in peace. Others thought the project too arduous for men of small means; theywished well to the arms of Sir William Wallace; and, should he continuesuccessful, would watch the moment to aid him with all their littlepower. Those who had much property, feared to risk its loss byembracing a doubtful struggle. Some were too great cowards to fightfor the rights they would gladly regain by the exertions of others. And others, again, who had families, shrunk from taking part in a causewhich, should it fail, would not only put their lives in danger, butexpose their offspring to the revenge of a resentful enemy. This wasthe best apology of any that had been offered; natural affection wasthe pleader; and though blinded to its true interest, such weakness hadan amiable source, and so was pardoned. But the other pleas were sobasely selfish, so undeserving of anything but scorn, that Sir EustaceMaxwell could not forbear expressing it. "When Sir William Wallace isentering full sail, you will send your hirelings to tow him in! but ifa plank could save him now, you would not throw it to him! Iunderstand you, sirs, and shall trouble your patriotism no more. "

In short, none but about a hundred poor fellows whom outrages hadrendered desperate, and a few brave spirits who would put all to thehazard for so good a cause, could be prevailed on to hold themselves inreadiness to obey Sir Eustace, when he should see the moment to conductthem to Sir William Wallace. He was trying his eloquence among theclan at Lennox, when Ker arriving, stamped his persuasions with truth;and above five hundred men arranged themselves under their lord'sstandard. Maxwell gladly explained himself to Wallace's lieutenant;and summoning his little reserve, they marched with flying pennonsthrough the town of Dumbarton. At sight of so much larger a power thanthey expected would venture to appear in arms, and sanctioned by theexample of the Earl of Lennox (whose name held a great influence inthose parts), several, who before had held back, from doubting theirown judgment, now came forward; and nearly eight hundred well-appointedmen marched into the fortress. 

So large a reinforcement was gratefully received by Wallace; and hewelcomed Maxwell with a cordiality which inspired that young knightwith an affection equal to his zeal. 

A council being held respecting the disposal of the new troops, it wasdecided that the Lennox men must remain with their earl in garrison;while those brought by Maxwell, and under his command, should followWallace in the prosecution of his conquests along with his own especialpeople. 

These preliminaries being arranged, the remainder of the day wasdedicated to more mature deliberations-to the unfolding of the plan ofwarfare which Wallace had conceived. As he first sketched the generaloutline of his design, and then proceeded to the particulars of eachmilitary movement, he displayed such comprehensiveness of mind; suchdepths of penetration; clearness of apprehension; facility inexpedients; promptitude in perceiving, and fixing on the most favorablepoints of attack; explaining their bearings upon the power of theenemy; and where the possession of such a castle would compel theneighboring ones to surrender; and where occupying the hills with bandsof resolute Scots, would be a more efficient bulwark than a thousandtowers-that Maxwell gazed on him with admiration, and Lennox withwonder. 

Mar had seen the power of his arms; Murray had already drunk theexperience of a veteran from his genius; hence they were not surprisedon hearing that which filled strangers with amazement. 

Lennox gazed on his leader's youthful countenance, doubting whether hereally were listening to military plans, great as general ever formed;or were visited, in vision, by some heroic shade, who offered to hissleeping fancy designs far vaster than his waking faculties could haveconceived. He had thought that the young Wallace might have wonDumbarton by a bold stroke, and that when his invincible courage shouldbe steered by stroke, and that when his invincible courage should besteered by graver heads, every success might be expected from his arms;and saw that when turned to any cause of policy, "the Gordian knot ofit he did unloose, familiar as his garter, " he marveled, and saidwithin himself, "Surely this man is born to be a sovereign!"

Maxwell, though equally astonished, was not so rapt. "You have madearms the study of your life?" inquired he. 

"It was the study of my earliest days, " returned Wallace. "But whenScotland lost her freedom, as the sword was not drawn in her defense, Ilooked not where it lay. I then studied the arts of peace; that isover; and now the passion of my soul revives. When the mind is bent onone object only, all becomes clear that leads to it; zeal, in suchcases, is almost genius. "

Soon after these observations, it was admitted that Wallace mightattend Lord mar and his family on the morrow to the Isle of Bute. 

When the dawn broke, he arose from his heather bed in the great tower;and having called forth twenty of the Bothwell men to escort theirlord, he told Ireland he should expect to have a cheering account ofthe wounded on his return. 

"But to assure the poor fellows, " rejoined the honest soldier, "thatsomething of yourself still keeps watch over them. I pray you leave methe sturdy sword with which you won Dumbarton. It shall be hung up intheir sight, ** and a good soldier's wound will heal by looking on it. "

**This tower, within the fortress of Dumbarton, is still calledWallace's tower; and a sword is shown there as the one that belonged toWallace. 

Wallace smiled. "Were it our holy King David's we might expect such amiracle. But you are welcome to it; and here let it remain till I takeit hence. Meanwhile, lend me yours, Stephen, for a truer never foughtfor Scotland. "

A glow of conscious valor flushed the cheek of the veteran. "There, mydear lord, " said he, presenting it; "it will not dishonor your hand, for it cut down many a proud Norwegian on the field of Largs. "

Wallace took the sword, and turned to meet Murray with Edwin in theportal. When they reached the citadel, Lennox and all the officers inthe garrison were assembled to bid their chief a short adieu. Wallacespoke to each separately, and then approaching the countess, led herdown the rock to the horses which were to convey them tot he Frith ofClyde. Lord Mar, between Murray and Edwin, followed; and the servantsand guard completed the suit. 

Being well mounted, they pleasantly pursued their way, avoiding allinhabited places, and resting in the deepest recesses of the hills. Lord Mar proposed traveling all night; but at the close of the eveninghis countess complained of fatigue, declaring she could not advancefurther than the eastern bank of the River Cart. No shelter appearedin sight, excepting a thick and extensive wood of hazels; but the airbeing mild, and the lady declaring her inability of moving on, Lord Marat last became reconciled to his wife and son passing the night with noother canopy than the trees. Wallace ordered cloaks to be spread onthe ground for the countess and her women; and seeing them laid torest, planted his men to keep guard around the circle. 

The moon had sunk in the west before the whole of his little camp wereasleep; but when all seemed composed, he wandered forth by the dimlight of the stars to view the surrounding country-a country he had sooften traversed in his boyish days. A little onward, in greenRenfrewshire, lay the lands of his father; but that Ellerslie of hisancestors, like his own Ellerslie of Clydesdale, his country's enemieshad leveled with the ground. He turned in anguish of heart toward thesouth, for there less racking remembrances hovered over the distanthills. 

Leaning on the shattered stump of an old tree, he fixed his eyes on thefar-stretching plain, which alone seemed to divide him from thevenerable Sir Ronald Crawford and his youthful haunts at Ayr. Full ofthoughts of her who used to share those happy scenes, he heard a sighbehind him. He turned round, and beheld a female figure disappearamong the trees. He stood motionless; again it met his view; it seemedto approach. A strange emotion stirred within him. When he lastpassed these borders, he was bringing his bride from Ayr! What thenwas this ethereal visitant? The silver light of the stars was notbrighter than its airy robes, which floated in the wind. His heartpaused-it beat violently-still the figure advanced. Lost in thewilderness of his imagination, he exclaimed, "Marion!" and dartedforward, as if to rush into her embrace. But it fled, and againvanished. He dropped upon the ground in speechless disappointment. 

"'Tis false!" cried he, recovering from his first expectation; "'tis aphantom of my own creating. The pure spirit of Marion would never flyfrom me; I loved her too well. She would not thus redouble my grief. But I shall go to thee, wife of my soul!" cried he; "and that iscomfort. " Balm, indeed, is the Christian's hope!"

Such were his words, such were his thoughts, till the coldness of thehour and the exhaustion of nature putting a friendly seal upon hissenses, he sunk upon the bank, and fell into a profound sleep. 

When he awoke the lark was caroling above his head; and to his surprisehe found a plaid was laid over him. He threw it off, and beheld Edwinseated at his feet. "This has been your doing, my kind brother, " saidhe, "but how came you to discover me?"

"I missed you when the dawn broke, and at last found you here, sleepingunder the dew. "

"And has none else been astir?" inquired Wallace, thinking of thefigure he had seen. 

"None that I know of. All were fast asleep when I left the party. "

Wallace began to fancy that he had been laboring under the impressionsof some powerful dream, and saying no more, he returned to the wood. Finding everybody ready, he took his station; and setting forth, allproceeded cheerfully, though slowly, through the delightful valleys ofBarochan. By sunset they arrived at the point of embarkation. Thejourney ought to have been performed in half the time; but the countesspetitioned for long rests, a compliance with which the younger part ofthe cavalcade conceded with reluctance. 

Chapter XXVII. 

The Frith of Clyde. 

At Gourock, Murray engage two small vessels; one for the earl andcountess, with Wallace as their escort; the other for himself andEdwin, to follow with a few of the men. 

It was a fine evening, and they embarked with everything in theirfavor. The boatmen calculated on reaching Bute in a few hours; but erethey had been half an hour at sea, the wind, veering about, obligedthem to woo its breezes by a traversing motion, which, though itlengthened their voyage, increased its pleasantness by carrying themoften within near views of the ever-varying shores. Sailing under aside-wind, they beheld the huge irregular rocks of Dunoon, overhangingthe ocean; while from their projecting brows hung every shrub which canlive in that saline atmosphere. 

"There, " whispered Lady mar, gently inclining toward Wallace, "mightthe beautiful mermaid of Corie Vrekin keep her court! Observe howmagnificently those arching cliffs overhang the hollows, and how richlythey are studded with shells and sea-flowers!"

"No flower of the field or of the ocean that came within the ken ofWallace, wasted its sweetness unadmired. He assented to the remarks ofLady Mar, who continued to expatiate on the beauties of the shoreswhich they passed; and thus the hours flew pleasantly away, till, turning the southern point of the Cowal Mountains, the scene suddenlychanged. The wind, which had gradually been rising, blew a violentgale from that part of the coast; and the sea, being pent between therocks which skirt the continent and the northern side of Bute, becameso boisterous, that the boatmen began to think they should be drivenupon the rocks of the island, instead of reaching its bay. Wallacetore down the sails, and laying his nervous arms to the oar, assistedto keep the vessel off the breakers, against which the waves weredriving her. The sky collected into a gloom; and while the teemingclouds seemed descending even to rest upon the cracking masts, theswelling of the ocean threatened to heave her up into their very bosoms. 

Lady Mar looked with affright at the gathering tempest, and withdifficulty was persuaded to retire under the shelter of a littleawning. The earl forgot his debility in the general terror; and triedto reassure the boatmen. But a tremendous sweep of the gale, drivingthe vessel far across the head of Bute, shot her past the mouth of LochFyne, toward the perilous rocks of Arran. "Here our destruction iscertain!" cried the master of the bark, at the same time confessing hisignorance of the navigation on this side of the island. Lord Mar, seizing the helm from the stupefied master, called to Wallace, "Whileyou keep the men to their duty, " cried he, "I will steer. "

The earl being perfectly acquainted with the coast, Wallace gladly sawthe helm in his hand. But he had scarcely stepped forward himself togive some necessary directions, when a heavy sea, breaking over thedeck, carried two of the poor mariners overboard. Wallace instantlythrew out a couple of ropes. Then, amidst a spray so blinding that thevessel appeared in a cloud, and while buffeted on each side by theraging of waves, which seemed contending to tear her to pieces, she layto for a few minutes, to rescue the men from the yawning gulf; onecaught a rope and was saved, but the other was seen no more. 

Again the bark was set loose to the current. Wallace, now with tworowers only, applied his whole strength to their aid. The master andthe third man were employed in the unceasing toil of laying out theaccumulating water. 

While the anxious chief tugged at the oar, and watched the thousandembattled cliffs which threatened destruction, his eye looked for thevessel that contained his friends. But the liquid mountains whichrolled around him prevented all view; and, with hardly a hope of seeingthem again, he pursued his attempt to preserve the lives of thosecommitted to his care. 

All this while Lady Mar lay in a state of stupefaction. Having faintedat the first alarm of danger, she had fallen from swoon to swoon, andnow remained almost insensible upon the bosoms of her maids. In amoment the vessel struck with a great shock, and the next instant itseemed to move with a velocity incredible. "The whirpool! thewhirlpool!" resounded from every lip. But again the rapid motion wassuddenly checked, and the women, fancying they had struck on the VrekinRock, shrieked aloud. The cry, and the terrified words whichaccompanied it, aroused Lady Mar. She started from her trance, and, while the confusion redoubled, rushed toward the dreadful scene. 

The mountainous waves and lowering clouds, borne forward by the blast, anticipated the dreariness of night. The last rays of the setting sunhad long passed away, and the deep shadows of the driving heavens castthe whole into a gloom, even more terrific than absolute darkness;while the high and beetling rocks, towering aloft in precipitous walls, mocked the hopes of the sea-beaten mariner, should he even buffet thewaters to reach their base; and the jagged shingles, deeply shelvingbeneath the waves, or projecting their pointed summits upward, showedthe crew where the rugged death would meet them. 

A little onward, a thousand massy fragments, rent by former tempestsfrom their parent cliffs, lay at the foundations of the immenseacclivities which faced the cause of their present alarm-a whirlpoolalmost as terrific as that of Scarba. The moment the powerful blastdrove the vessel within the influence of the outward edge of the firstcircle of the vortex. Wallace leaped from the deck on the rocks, and, with the same rope in his hand with which he had saved the life of theseaman, he called to the two men to follow him, who yet held similarropes, fastened like his own to the prow of the vessel; and beingobeyed, they strove by towing it along, to stem the suction of thecurrent. 

It was at this instant that Lady Mar rushed forward upon deck. 

"In for your life, Joanna!" exclaimed the earl. She answered him not, but looked wildly around her. Nowhere could she see Wallace. 

"Have I drowned him?" cried she, in a voice of frenzy, and striking thewomen from her, who would have held her back. "Let me clasp him, evenin the deep waters!"

Happily, the earl lost the last sentence in the roaring of the storm. 

"Wallace, Wallace!" cried she, wringing her hands, and still strugglingwith her women. At that moment a huge wave, sinking before her, discovered the object of her fears, straining along the surface of arock, and followed by the men in the same laborious task, tuggingforward the ropes to which the bark was attached. She gazed at themwith wonder and affright, for, notwithstanding the beating of theelements (which seeming to find their breasts of iron and their feetarmed with some preternatural adhesion to the cliff), they continued tobear resolutely onward. Fortunately, they did not now labor againstthe wind. Sometimes they pressed forward on the level edge of therock; then a yawning chasm forced them to leap from cliff to cliff, orto spring on some more elevated projection. Thus, contending with thevortex and the storm, they at last arrived at the doubling ofCuthonrock, ** the point that was to clear them of this minor CorieVrekin. But at that crisis the rope which Wallace held broke, and, with the shock, he fell backward into the sea. The foremost manuttered a dreadful cry; but ere it could be echoed by his fellows, Wallace had risen above the waves, and, beating their whelming waterswith his invincible arm, soon gained the vessel and jumped upon thedeck. The point was doubled, but the next moment the vessel struck, and in a manner that left no hope of getting her off. All must take tothe water or perish, for the second shock would scatter her piecemeal. 

**Cuthon means the mournful sound of waves. 

Again Lady Mar appeared. At sight of Wallace she forgot everything buthim; and perhaps would have thrown herself into his arms, had not theanxious earl caught her in his own. 

"Are we to die?" cried she to Wallace, in a voice of horror. 

"I trust that God has decreed otherwise, " was his reply. "Composeyourself; all may yet be well. "

Lord Mar, from his yet unhealed wounds, could not swim; Wallacetherefore tore up the benches of the rowers, and binding them into theform of a small raft, made it the vehicle for the earl and countess, with her two maids and the child. While the men were towing it, andbuffeting with it through the breakers, he too threw himself into thesea to swim by its side, and be in readiness in case of accident. 

Having gained the shore, or rather the broken rocks, that lie at thefoot of the stupendous craigs which surround the Isle of Arran, Wallaceand his sturdy assistants conveyed the countess and her terrified womenup their acclivities. Fortunately for the shipwrecked voyagers, thoughthe wind raged, its violence was of some advantage, for it nearlycleared the heavens of clouds, and allowed the moon to send forth herguiding light. By her lamp one of the men discovered the mouth of acavern, where Wallace gladly sheltered his dripping charges. 

The child, whom he had guarded in his own arms during the difficultascent, he now laid on the bosom of its mother. Lady mar kissed thehand that relinquished it, and gave way to a flood of grateful tears. 

The earl, as he sunk almost powerless against the side of the cave, yethad strength enough to press Wallace to his heart. "Ever preserver ofme and mine!" cried he, "how must I bless thee!-My wife, my child-"

"Have been saved to you, my friend, " interrupted Wallace, "by thepresiding care of Him who walked the waves! Without His especial armwe must all have perished in this awful night; therefore let ourthanksgivings be directed to Him alone. "

"So be it!" returned the earl, and dropping on his knees, he breathedforth so pathetic and sublime a prayer of thanks, that the countesstrembled, and bent her head upon the bosom of her child. She could notutter the solemn Amen, that was repeated by every voice in the cave. Her unhappy infatuation saw no higher power in this great preservationthan the hand of the man she adored. She felt that guilt was cherishedin her heart; and she could not lift her eyes to join with those who, with the boldness of innocence, called on Heaven to attest the sanctityof their vows. 

Sleep soon sealed every weary eye, excepting those of Wallace. Aracking anxiety respecting the fate of the other vessel, in which werethe brave men of Bothwell, and his two dear friends, filled his mindwith dreadful forebodings that they had not outlived the storm. Sometimes, when wearied nature for a few minutes sunk into slumber, hewould start, grief-struck, from the body of Edwin floating on the brinyflood, and as he awoke, a cold despondence would tell him that hisdream was, perhaps, too true. "Oh! I love thee, Edwin!" exclaimed heto himself; "and if my devoted heart was to be separated from all but apatriot's love!-why did I think of loving thee?-must thou, too, die, that Scotland may have no rival, that Wallace may feel himself quitealone!"

Thus he sat musing, and listening, with many a sigh, to the yellinggusts of wind, and louder roaring of the water. At last the formergradually subsided, and the latter, obeying the retreating ride, rolledaway in hoarse murmurs. 

Morning began to dawn, and spreading upon the mountains of the oppositeshore, shed a soft light over their misty sides. All was tranquil andfull of beauty. That element, which so lately in its rage hadthreatened to ingulf them all, now flowed by the rocks at the foot ofthe cave in gentle undulations; and where the spiral cliffs gave alittle resistance, the rays of the rising sun, striking on the burstingwaves, turned their vapory showers into dropping gems. 

While his companions were still wrapped in sleep, Wallace stole away toseek some knowledge respecting the part of the Isle of Arran on whichthey were cast. Close by the mouth of the cave he discovered a cleftin the rock, into which he turned, and finding the upward footingsufficiently secure, clambered to the summit. Looking around, he foundhimself at the skirt of a chain of high hills, which seemed to stretchfrom side to side over the island, while their tops, in alpinesuccession, rose in a thousand grotesque and pinnacled forms. Theptarmigan and capercailzie were screaming from those upper regions; andthe nimble roes, with their fawns, bounding through the green defilesbelow. No trace of human habitation appeared; but from the size andknown population of the island, he knew he could not be far frominhabitants; and thinking it best to send the boatmen in search ofthem, he retraced his steps. The morning vapors were fast rollingtheir snowy wreaths down the opposite mountains, whose heads, shiningin resplendent purple, seemed to view themselves in the brightreflections of the now smooth sea. Nature, like a proud conqueror, appeared to have put on a triumphal garb, in exultation of thedevastation she had committed the night before. Wallace shuddered, asthe parallel occurred to his mind, and turned from the scene. 

On re-entering the cave he dispatched the seamen, and disposed himselfto watch by the sides of his still sleeping friends. An hour hardlyhad elapsed before the men returned, bringing with them a large boatand its proprietor. But, alas! no tidings of Murray and Edwin, whom hehad hoped might have been driven somewhere on the island. In bringingthe boat round to the creek under the rock, the men discovered that thesea had driven their wreck between two projecting rocks, where it nowlay wedged. Though ruined as a vessel, sufficient held together towarrant their exertions to save the property. Accordingly they enteredit, and drew thence most of the valuables which belonged to Lord Mar. 

While this was doing, Wallace reascended to the cave, and finding theearl awake, told him a boat was ready for their re-embarkation. "Butwhere, my friend, are my nephews?" inquired he; "Alas! has this fatalexpedition robbed me of them?"

Wallace tried to inspire him with a hope he scarcely dare credithimself, that they had been saved on some more distant shore. Thevoices of the chiefs awakened the women, but the countess still slept. Aware that she would resist trusting herself to the waves again, LordMar desired that she might be moved on board without disturbing her. This was readily done, the men having only to take up the extremitiesof the plaid on to the boat. The earl received her head on his bosom. All were then on board, the rowers struck their oars, and once more thelittle party found themselves launched upon the sea. 

While they were yet midway between the isles, with a bright sun playingits sparkling beams upon the gently rippling waves, the countess, heaving a deep sigh, slowly opened her eyes. All around glared withthe light of day; she felt the motion of the boat, and raising herhead, saw that she was again embarked on the treacherous element onwhich she had lately experienced so many terrors. She grew deadlypale, and grasped her husband's hand. "My dear Joanna, " cried he, "benot alarmed, we are all safe. "

"And Sir William Wallace has left us?" demanded she. 

"No, madam, " answered a voice from the steerage, "not till this partyis safe at Bute do I quit it. "

She looked round with a grateful smile; "Ever generous! How could Ifor a moment doubt our preserver?"

Wallace bowed, but remained silent; and they passed calmly along tillthe vessel came in sight of a birling, ** which, bounding over thewaves, was presently so near the earl's, that the figures in each couldbe distinctly seen. In it the chiefs, to their rapturous surprise, beheld Murray and Edwin. The latter, with a cry of joy, leaped intothe sea; the next instant he was over the boat's side, and clasped inthe arms of Wallace. Real transport, true happiness, now dilated theheart of the before desponding chief. He pressed the dear boy againand again to his bosom, and kissed his white forehead with all therapture of the fondest brother. "Thank God! thank God!" was all thatEdwin could say; while, at every effort to tear himself from Wallace, to congratulate his uncle on his safety, his heart overflowing towardhis friend, opened afresh, and he clung the closer to his breast; tillat last, exhausted with happiness, the little hero of Dumbarton gaveway to the sensibility of his tender age, and the chief felt his bosomwet with the joy-drawn tears of his youthful banneret. 

While this was passing, the birling had drawn close to the boat; andMurray, shaking hands with his uncle and aunt, exclaimed to Wallace, "That urchin is such a monopolizer, I see you have not a greeting forany one else. " On this Edwin raised his face, and turned to theaffectionate welcomes of Lord Mar. Wallace stretched out his hand tothe ever-gay Lord Andrew; and, inviting him into the boat, soonlearned, that on the portentous beginning of the storm, Murray'scompany made direct to the nearest creek in Bute, being better seamenthan Wallace's helmsman who, until danger stopped him, had foolishlycontinued to aim for Rothsay. By this prudence, without having been inmuch peril, or sustained any fatigue, Murray's party had landed safely. The night came on dark and tremendous; but not doubting that theearl's rowers had carried him into a similar haven, the young chief andhis companion kept themselves very easy in a fisher's hut till morning. At an early hour, they then put themselves at the head of the Bothwellmen; and, expecting they should come up with Wallace and his party atRothsay, walked over to the castle. Their consternation wasunutterable when they found that Lord Mar was not there, threwthemselves into a birling, to seek their friends upon the seas; andwhen they did espy them, the joy of Edwin was so great, that not eventhe unfathomable gulf could stop him from flying to the embrace of hisfriend. 

**Birling is a small boat generally used by fishers. 

While mutual felicitations passed, the boats, now nearly side by side, reached the shore; and the seamen, jumping on the rocks, moored theirvessels under the projecting towers of Rothsay. The old stewardhastened to receive a master who had not blessed his aged eyes for manya year; a master who had the infant in his arms that was to be thefuture representative of the house of Mar, he wept aloud. The earlspoke to him affectionately, and then walked on with Edwin, whom hecalled to support him up the bank. Murray led the countess out of theboat; while the Bothwell men so thronged about Wallace, congratulatingthemselves on his safety, that she saw there was no hope of his armbeing then offered to her. 

Having entered the castle, the steward led them into a room, in whichhe had spread a plentiful repast. Here Murray (having recounted theadventures of his voyage) called for a history of what had befallen hisfriends. The earl gladly took up the tale, and, with many a glance ofgratitude to Wallace, narrated the perilous events of their shipwreck, and providential preservation on the Isle of Arran. 

Happiness now seemed to, have shed her heavenly influence over everybosom. All hearts owned the grateful effects of the late rescue. Therapturous joy of Edwin burst into a thousand sallies of ardent andluxurious imagination. The high spirits of Murray turned everytransient subject into a "mirth-moving jest". The veteran earl seemedrestored to health and to youth; and Wallace felt the sun ofconsolation expanding in his bosom. He had met a heart, though a youngone, on which his soul might repose; that dear selected brother of hisaffection was saved from the whelming waves; and all his superstitiousdreams of a mysterious doom vanished before this manifestation ofheavenly goodness. His friend, too, the gallant Murray, was spared. How many subjects had he for unmurmuring gratitude! And with anunclouded brow and a happy spirit, he yielded to the impulse of thescene. He smiled; and, with an endearing graciousness, listened toevery fond speaker; while his own ingenuous replies bespoke thetreasures of love which sorrow, in her cruelest aspect, had lockedwithin his heart. 

The complacency with which he regarded every one-the pouring out of hisbeneficent spirit, which seemed to embrace all, like his dearestkindred-turned every eye and heart toward him, as to the source ofevery bliss; as to a being who seemed made to love, and be beloved byevery one. Lady mar looked at him, listened to him, with her rapt soulseated in her eyes. In his presence all was transport. 

But when he withdrew for the night, what was then the state of herfeelings! The overflowing of heart he felt for all, she appropriatedsolely for herself. The sweetness of his voice, the unutterableexpression of his countenance, while, as he spoke, he veiled his eyesunder their long brown lashes, had raised such vague hopes in herbosom, that-he being gone-she hastened her adieus to the rest, eager toretire to bed, and there uninterruptedly muse on the happiness ofhaving at last touched the heart of a man for whom she would resign theworld. 

Chapter XXVIII. 

Isle of Bute. 

The morning would have brought annihilation to the countess'new-fledged hopes, had not Murray been the first to meet her as shecame from her chamber. 

While walking on the cliffs at some distance from the castle to observethe weather, he met Wallace and Edwin. They had already been acrossthe valley to the haven, and ordered a boat round, to convey them backto Gourock. "Postpone your flight, for pity's sake!" cried Murray, "ifyou would not, by discourtesy, destroy what your gallantry haspreserved!" He then told them that Lady Mar was preparing a feast inthe glen, behind the castle; "and if you do not stay to partake it, "added he, "we may expect all the witches in the isle will be bribed tosink us before we reach the shore. "

After this the general meeting of the morning was not less cordial thanthe separation of the night before; and when Lady Mar withdrew to giveorders for her rural banquet, that time was seized by the earl for thearrangement of matters of more consequence. In a private conversationwith Murray the preceding evening he had learned that, just before theparty left Dumbarton, a letter had been sent to Helen at St. Filan's, informing her of the taking of the castle, and of the safety of herfriends. This having satisfied the earl he did not advert to her atall in his present discourse with Wallace, but rather avoidedencumbering his occupied mind with anything but the one great theme. 

While the earl and his friends were marshaling armies, taking towns, and storming castles, the countess, intent on other conquests, wasmeaning to beguile and destroy that manly spirit by soft delights, which a continuance in war's rugged scenes, she thought, was too likelyto render invulnerable. 

When her lord and his guests were summoned to the feast, she met themat the mouth of the glen. Having tried the effect of splendor, she nowleft all to the power of her natural charms, and appeared simply cladin her favorite green. ** Moraig, the pretty grandchild of the steward, walked beside her, like the fairy queen of the scene, so gayly was shedecorated in all the flowers of spring. "Here is the lady of my elfinrevels, holding her little king in her arms!" As the countess spoke, Moraig held up the infant to Lady Mar, dressed like herself, in atissue gathered from the field. The sweet babe laughed and crowed, andmade a spring to leap into Wallace's arms. The chief took him, andwith an affectionate smile, pressed his little cheek to his. 

Though he had felt the repugnance of a delicate mind, and theshuddering of a man who held his person consecrated to the memory ofthe only woman he had ever loved; though he had felt these sentimentsmingle into an abhorrence of the countess, when she allowed her head todrop on his breast in the citadel; charging her to himself withanything designedly immodest), he had certainly avoided her; yet sincethe wreck, the danger she had escaped, the general joy of all meetingagain, had wiped away even the remembrance of his former cause ofdislike; and he now sat by her as by a sister, fondling her child, although at every sweet caress it reminded him of what might have beenhis-of hopes lost to him forever. 

The repast over, the piper of the adjacent cottages appeared; and, placing himself on a projecting rock, at the carol of his merryinstrument the young peasants of both sexes jocundly came forward andbegan to dance. At this sight Edwin seized the little hand of Moraig, while Lord Andrew called a pretty lass from amongst the rustics, andjoined the group. The happy earl, with many a hearty laugh, enjoyedthe jollity of his people; and while the steward stood at his lord'sback describing whose sons and daughters passed before him in the reel, Mar remembered their parents-their fathers, once his companions in thechase or on the wave; and their mothers, the pretty maidens he used topursue over the hills in the merry time of shealing. 

Lady Mar watched the countenance of Wallace as he looked upon thejoyous group; it was placid, and a soft complacency illumined his eye. How different was the expression in hers, had he marked it! All withinher was in tumult, and the characters were but too legibly imprinted onher face. But he did not look on her; for the child, whom the perfumeof the flowers overpowered, began to cry. He rose, and having resignedit to the nurse, turned into a narrow vista of trees, where he walkedslowly on, unconscious whither he went. 

Lady Mar, with an eager, though almost aimless haste, followed him witha light step till she saw him turn out of the vista, and then she lostsight of him. To walk with him undisturbed in so deep a seclusion; toimprove the impression which she was sure she had made upon his heart;to teach him which she was sure she had made upon his heart; to teachhim to forget his Marion, in the hope of one day possessing her-allthese thoughts ran in this vain woman's head; and, inwardly rejoicingthat the shattered health of her husband promised her a ready freedomto become the wife of the man to whom she would gladly belong, in honoror in dishonor, she hastened forward as if the accomplishment of herwishes depended on this meeting. Peeping through the trees, she sawhim standing with folded arms, looking intently into the bosom of alarge lake; but the place was so thickly surrounded with willows, shecould only perceive him at intervals, when the wind tossed aside thebranches. 

Having stood for some time, he walked on. Several times she essayed toemerge, and join him; but a sudden awe of him, a conviction of thatsaintly purity which would shrink from the guilty vows she wasmeditating to pour into his ear, a recollection of the ejaculation withwhich he had accosted her before hovering figure, when she haunted hisfootsteps on the banks of the Cart; these thoughts made her pause. Hemight again mistake her for the same dear object. This image it wasnot her interest to recall. And to approach near him, to unveil herheat to him, and to be repulsed-there was madness in the idea, and sheretreated. 

She had no sooner returned to the scene of festivity than she repentedof having allowed what she deemed an idle alarm of overstraineddelicacy to drive her from the lake. She would have hastened back, hadnot two or three aged female peasants almost instantly engaged her, inspite of her struggles for extrication, to listen to long storiesrespecting her lord's youth. She remained thus an unwilling auditor, and by the side of the dancers for nearly an hour, before Wallacereappeared. But then she sprung toward him as if a spell were broken. 

"Where, truant, have you been?"

"In a beautiful solitude, " returned he, "amongst a luxuriant grove ofwillows. "

"Ah!" cried she, "it is called Glenshealeach, and a sad scene was actedthere! About ten years ago, a lady of this island drowned herself inthe lake they hang over, because the man she loved despised her. "

"Unhappy woman!" observed Wallace. 

"Then you would have pitied her?" rejoined Lady Mar. 

"He cannot be a man that would not pity a woman under suchcircumstances. "

"Then you would not have consigned her to such a fate?"

Wallace was startled by the peculiar tone in which this simple questionwas asked. It recalled the action in the citadel, and, unconsciouslyturning a penetrating look on her, his eyes met hers. He need not haveheard further to have learned more. She hastily looked down, andcolored; and he, wishing to misunderstand a language so disgraceful toherself, so dishonoring to her husband, gave some trifling answer; thenmaking a slight observation about the earl, he advanced to him. LordMar was become tired with so gala a scene, and, taking the arm ofWallace, they returned together into the house. 

Edwin soon followed with Murray, gladly arriving in time enough to seetheir little pinnacle draw up under the castle and throw out hermoorings. The countess, too, descried its streamers, and hasteninginto the room where she knew the chiefs were yet assembled, though thewearied earl had retired to repose, inquired the reason of that boathaving drawn so near the castle. 

"That it may take us from it, fair aunt, " replied Murray. 

The countess fixed her eyes with an unequivocal expression uponWallace. "My gratitude is ever due to your kindness, noble lady, " saidhe, still wishing to be blind to what he could not perceive, "and thatwe may ever deserve it, we must keep the enemy from your doors. "

"Yes, " added Murray, "and to keep a more insidious foe from our own!Edwin and I feel it rather dangerous to bask too long in these sunnybowers. "

"But surely your chief is not afraid, " said she, casting a soft glanceat Wallace. 

"Yet, nevertheless, I must fly, " returned he, bowing to her. 

"That you positively shall not, " added she, with a fluttering joy ather heart, thinking she was about to succeed; "you stir not this night, else I shall brand you all as a band of cowards. "

"Call us by every name in the poltroon's calendar, " cried Murray, seeing by the countenance of Wallace that his resolution was not to bemoved; "yet I must gallop off from your black-eyed Judith, as if chasedby the ghost of Holofernes himself. "

"So, dear aunt, " rejoined Edwin, smiling, "if you do not mean to playCirce to our Ulysses, give us leave to go!"

Lady Mar started, confused she knew not how, as he innocently utteredthese words. The animated boy snatched a kiss from her hand, when heceased speaking, and darted after Murray, who had disappeared, to givesome speeding directions respecting the boat. 

Left thus alone with the object of her every wish, in the moment whenshe thought she was going to lose him, perhaps, forever, she forgot allprudence, all reserve; and laying her hand on her arm, as with arespectful bow he was also moving away, she arrested his steps. Sheheld him fast, but her agitation prevented her speaking; she trembledviolently, and weeping, dropped her head upon his shoulder. He wasmotionless. Her tears redoubled. He felt the embarrassment of hissituation; and at last extricating his tongue, which surprise and shamefor her had chained, in a gentle voice he inquired the cause of heruneasiness. "If for the safety of your nephews-"

"No, no, " cried she, interrupting him, "read my fate in that of thelady of Glenshealeach!"

Again he was silent; astonished, fearful of too promptly understandingso disgraceful a truth, he found no words in which to answer her, andher emotions became so uncontrolled, that he expected she would swoonin his arms. 

"Cruel, cruel Wallace!" at last cried she, clinging to him, for he hadonce or twice attempted to disengage himself, and reseat her on thebench; "your heart is steeled, or it would understand mine. It wouldat least pity the wretchedness it has created. But I am despised, andI can yet find the watery grave from which you rescued me. "

To dissemble longer would have been folly. Wallace, now resolutelyseating her, though with gentleness, addressed her: "Your husband, Lady Mar, is my friend; had I even a heart to give a woman, not onesigh should arise in it to his dishonor. But I am lost to all warmeraffections than that of friendship. I may regard man as my brother, woman as my sister; but never more can I look on female form with love. "

Lady Mar's tears now flowed in a more tempered current. 

"But were it otherwise, " cried she, "only tell me, that had I not beenbound with chains, which my kinsmen forced upon me-had I not been madethe property of a man who, however estimable, was of too paternal yearsfor me to love; ah! tell me, if these tears should now flow in vain?"

Wallace seemed to hesitate what to answer. 

Wrought up to agony, she threw herself on his breast, exclaiming, "Answer! but drive me not to despair. I never loved man before-and nowto be scorned! Oh, kill me, too, dear Wallace, but tell me not thatyou never could have loved me. "

Wallace was alarmed at her vehemence. "Lady Mar, " returned he, "I amincapable of saying anything to you that is inimical to your duty tothe best of men. I will even forget this distressing conversation, andcontinue through life to revere, equal with himself, the wife of myfriend. "

"And I am to be stabbed with this?" she replied, in a voice ofindignant anguish. 

"You are to be healed with it, Lady Mar, " returned he, "for it is not aman like the rest of his sex that now addresses you, but a being whoseheart is petrified to marble. I could feel no throb of yours; I shouldbe insensible to all your charms, were I even vile enough to see noevil in trampling upon your husband's rights. Yes, were virtue lost tome, still memory would speak, still would she urge, that the chaste andlast kiss, imprinted by my wife on these lips, should live there inunblemished sanctity, till I again meet her angel embraces in the worldto come!"

The countess, awed by his solemnity, but not put from her suit, exclaimed: "What she was, I would be to thee-thy consoler, thineadorer. Time may set me free. Oh! till then, only give me leave tolove thee, and I shall be happy!"

"You dishonor yourself, lady, " returned he, "by these petitions, andfor what? You plunge your soul in guilty wishes-you sacrifice yourpeace, and your self-esteem, to a phantom; for I repeat, I am dead towoman; and the voice of love sounds like the funeral knell of her whowill never breathe it to me again. " He arose as he spoke, and thecountess, pierced to the heart, and almost despairing of now retainingany part in its esteem, was devising what next to say, when Murray cameinto the room. 

Wallace instantly observed that his countenance was troubled. "Whathas happened?" inquired he. 

"A messenger from the mainland, with bad news from Ayr. "

"Of private or public import?" asked Wallace. 

"Of both. There has been a horrid massacre, in which the heads of manynoble families have fallen. " As he spoke, the paleness of hiscountenance revealed to his friend that part of the information he hadfound himself unable to communicate. 

"I comprehend my loss, " cried Wallace; "Sir Ronald Crawford issacrificed! Bring the messenger in. "

Murray withdrew; and Wallace, seating himself, remained with a fixedand stern countenance, gazing on the ground. Lady Mar durst notbreathe for fear of disturbing the horrid stillness which seemed tolock up his grief and indignation. 

Lord Andrew re-entered with a stranger, Wallace rose to meet him, andseeing Lady mar-"Countess, " said he, "these bloody recitals are not foryour ears;" and waving her to withdraw, she left the room. 

"This gallant stranger, " said Murray, "is Sir John Graham. He has justleft that new theater of Southron perfidy. "

"I have hastened hither, " cried the knight, "to call your victoriousarm to take a signal vengeance on the murderers of your grandfather. He, and eighteen other Scottish chiefs, have been treacherously put todeath in the Barns of Ayr. "

Graham then gave a brief narration of the direful circumstance. He andhis father, Lord Dundaff, having crossed the south coast of Scotland ontheir way homeward, stopped to rest at Ayr. They arrived there thevery day that Lord Aymer de Valence had entered it, a fugitive fromDumbarton Castle. Much as that earl wished to keep the success ofWallace a secret from the inhabitants of Ayr, he found it impossible. Two or three fugitive soldiers whispered the hard fighting they hadendured; and in half an hour after the arrival of the English earl, every one knew that the recovery of Scotland was begun. Elated withthis intelligence, the Scots went, under night, from house to house, congratulating each other on so miraculous an interference in theirfavor; and many stole to Sir Ronald Crawford, to felicitate thevenerable knight on his glorious grandson. 

The good old man listened with meek joy to their animated eulogiums onWallace; and when Lord Dundaff, in offering his congratulations withthe rest, said, "But while all Scotland lay in vassalage, where did heimbibe this spirit, to tread down tyrants?" The venerable patriarchreplied, "He was always a noble boy. In infancy, he became thedefender of every child he saw oppressed by boys of greater power; hewas even the champion of the brute creation, and no poor animal wasever attempted to be tortured near him. The old looked on him forcomfort, the young for protection. From infancy to manhood, he hasbeen a benefactor; and though the cruelty of our enemies have widowedhis youthful years-though he should go childless to the grave, thebrightness of his virtues will now spread more glories around the nameof Wallace than a thousand posterities. " Other ears than those ofDandaff heard this honest exultation. 

The next morning this venerable old man, and other chiefs of similarconsequence, were summoned by Sir Richard Arnuf, the governor, to hispalace, there to deliver in a schedule of their estates; "that quietpossession, " the governor said, "might be granted to them, under thegreat seal of Lord Aymer de Valence, the deputy-warden of Scotland. "

The gray-headed knight, not being so active as his compeers of morejuvenile years, happened to be the last who went to this tiger's den. Wrapped in his plaid, his silver hair covered with a blue bonnet, andleaning on his staff, he was walking along attended by two domestics, when Sir John Graham met him at the gate of the palace. He smiled onhim as he passed, and whispered-"It will not be long before my Wallacemakes even the forms of vassalage unnecessary; and then these failinglimbs may sit undisturbed at home, under the fig-tree and vine of hisplanting!"

"God grant it!" returned Graham; and he saw Sir Ronald admitted withinthe interior gate. The servants were ordered to remain without. SirJohn walked there some time, expecting the reappearance of the knight, whom he intended to assist in leading home; but after an hour, findingno signs of egress from the palace, and thinking his father might bewondering at his delay, he turned his steps toward his own lodgings. While passing along he met several Southron detachments hurrying acrossthe streets. In the midst of some of these companies he saw one or twoScottish men of rank, strangers to him, but who, by certainindications, seemed to be prisoners. He did not go far before he met achieftain in these painful circumstances whom he knew; but as he washastening toward him, the noble Scot raised his manacled hand andturned away his head. This was a warning to the young knight, whodarted into an obscure alley which led to the gardens of his father'slodgings, and was hurrying forward when he met one of his own servantsrunning in quest of him. 

Panting with haste, he informed his master that a party of armed menhad come, under De Valence's warrant, to seize Lord Dundaff and bearhim to prison; to lie there with others who were charged with havingtaken part in a conspiracy with the grandfather of the insurgentWallace. 

The officer of the band who took Lord Dundaff told him, in the mostinsulting language, that "Sir Ronald, his ringleader, with eighteennobles, his accomplices, had already suffered the punishment of theircrime, and were lying headless trunks in the judgment hall. "

"Haste, therefore, " repeated the man; "my lord bids you haste to SirWilliam Wallace, and require his hand to avenge his kinsman's blood, and to free his countrymen from prison! These are your father'scommands; he directed me to seek you and give them to you. "

Alarmed for the life of his father, Graham hesitated how to act on themoment. To leave him seemed to abandon him to the death the others hadreceived; and yet, only by obeying him could he have any hopes ofaverting his threatened fate. Once seeing the path he ought to pursue, he struck immediately into it; and giving his signet to the servant, toassure Lord Dundaff of his obedience, he mounted a horse, which hadbeen brought to the town end for that purpose, and setting off fullspeed, allowed nothing to stay him, till he reached Dumbarton Castle. There, hearing that Wallace had gone to Bute, he threw himself into aboat, and plying every oar, reached that island in a shorter space oftime than the voyage had ever before been completed. 

Being now conducted into the presence of the chief, he narrated hisdismal tale with a simplicity and pathos which would have instantlydrawn the retributive sword of Wallace, had he had no kinsman toavenge, no friend to release from the Southron dungeons. But as thecase stood, his bleeding grandfather lay before his eyes; and the axhung over the heads of the most virtuous nobles of his country. 

He heard the chieftain to an end, without speaking or altering thestern attention of his countenance. But at the close, with anaugmented suffusion of blood in his face, and his brows denouncing sometremendous fate, he rose. "Sir John Graham, " said he, "I attend you. "

"Whither?" demanded Murray. 

"To Ayr, " answered Wallace; "this moment I will set out for Dumbarton, to bring away the sinews of my strength. God will be our speed! andthen this arm shall show how I loved that good old man. "

"Your men, " interrupted Graham, "are already awaiting you on theopposite shore. I presumed to command for you. For on enteringDumbarton, and finding you were absent, after having briefly recountedmy errand to Lord Lennox, I dared to interpret your mind, and to orderSir Alexander Scrymgeour, and Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, with all your ownforce, to follow me to the coast of Renfrew. "

"Thank you, my friend!" cried Wallace, grasping his hand; "may I everhave such interpreters! I cannot stay to bid your uncle farewell, "said he, to Lord Andrew; "remain, to tell him to bless me with hisprayers; and then, dear Murray, follow me to Ayr. "

Ignorant of what the stranger had imparted, at the sight of the chiefsapproaching from the castle gate, Edward hastened with the news, thatall was ready for embarkation. He was hurrying out his information, when the altered countenance of his general checked him. He looked atthe stranger; his features were agitated and severe. He turned towardhis cousin, all there was grave and distressed. Again he glanced atWallace; no word was spoken, but every look threatened, and Edwin sawhim leap into the boat, followed by the stranger. The astonished boy, though unnoticed, would not be left behind, and stepping in also, satdown beside his chief. 

"I shall follow you in a hour, " exclaimed Murray. The seamen pushedoff; then giving loose to their swelling sail, in less than tenminutes, the light vessel was wafted out of the little harbor, andturning a point, those in the castle saw it no more. 

Chapter XXIX. 

The Barns of Ayr. 

While the little bark bounded over the waves toward the main land, thepoor pilgrims of earth who were its freightage, with heavy hearts benttoward each other, intent on the further information they were toreceive. 

"Here is a list of the murdered chiefs, and of those who are in thedungeons, expecting the like treatment, " continued Graham, holding outa parchment; "it was given to me by my faithful servant. " Wallace tookit, but seeing his grandfather's name at the top, he could look nofurther; closing the scroll, "Gallant Graham, " said he, "I want nostimulus to urge me to the extirpation I meditate. If the sword ofHeaven be with us, not one perpetrator of this horrid massacre shall bealive tomorrow to repeat the deed. "

"What massacre?" Edwin ventured to inquire. Wallace put the parchmentinto his hand. "A list of the Scottish chiefs murdered on the 18th ofJune, 1297, in the Judgment Hall of the English Barons at Ayr, " hischeek, paled by the suspense of his mind, now reddened with the hue ofindignation; but when the venerated name of his general's grandfathermet his sight, his horror struck eye sought the face of Wallace; it wasdark as before, and he was now in earnest discourse with Graham. 

Forbearing to interrupt him, Edwin continued to read over theblood-registered names. In turning the page, his eye glanced to theopposite side; and he saw at the head of "A list of prisoners in thedungeons of Ayr, " the name of "Lord Dundaff" and immediately after it, that of "Lord Ruthven!" He uttered a piercing cry; and extending hisarms to Wallace, who turned round at so unusual a sound, theterror-struck boy exclaimed, "My father is in their hands! Oh! If youare indeed my brother, fly to Ayr, and save him!"

Wallace took up the open list which Edwin had dropped; he saw the nameof Lord Ruthven amongst the prisoners; and folding his arms round thisaffectionate son, "Compose yourself, " said he, "it is to Ayr I amgoing; and if the God of Justice be our speed, your father and LordDundaff shall not see another day in prison. "

Edwin threw himself on the neck of his friend; "My benefactor!" was allhe could utter. Wallace pressed him silently to his bosom. 

"Who is this youth?" inquired Graham; "to which of the noble companionsof my captive father is he son?"

"To William Ruthven, " answered Wallace; "the valiant lord of the Carseof Gowry. And it is a noble scion from that glorious root. He it wasthat enabled me to win Dumbarton. Look up, my brother!" cried Wallace, trying to regain so tender a mind from the paralyzing terrors which hadseized it; "Look up, and hear me recount the first fruits of yourmaiden arms, to our gallant friend. 

Covered with blushes, arising from anxious emotion, as well as from ahappy consciousness of having wont he praises of his general, Edwinrose from his breast, and bowing to Sir John, still leaned his headupon the shoulder of Wallace. That amiable being, who, when seeking towipe the tear of affliction from the cheek of others, minded not thedrops of blood which were distilling in secret from his own heart, began the recital of his first acquaintance with his young Sir Edwin. He enumerated every particular; his bringing the detachment fromBothwell, through the enemy-encircled mountains, to Glenfinlass; hisscaling the walls of Dumbarton to make the way smooth for the Scots toascend; and his after prowess in that well-defended fortress. AsWallace proceeded, the wonder of Graham was raised to a pitch, only tobe equaled by his admiration; and taking the hand of Edwin, "Receiveme, brave youth, " said he, "as your second brother; Sir William Wallaceis your first; but, this night, we shall fight side by side for ourfathers; and let that be our bond of kindred. "

Edwin pressed the young chief's cheek with his innocent lips; "Let us, together, free them;" cried he' "and then we shall be born twins inhappiness. "

"So be it, " cried Graham; "and Sir William Wallace be the sponser ofthat hour!"

Wallace smiled on them; and turning his head toward the shore, when thevessel doubled a certain point, he saw the beach covered with armedmen. To be sure they were his own, he drew his sword, and waved it inthe air. At that moment a hundred falchions flashed in the sunbeams, and the shouts of "Wallace!" came loudly on the breeze. 

Graham and Edwin started on their feet; the seamen piled their oars;the boat dashed into the breakers-and Wallace, leaping on shore, wasreceived with acclamations by his eager soldiers. 

He no sooner landed, than he commenced his march. Murray joined him onthe banks of the Irwin; and as Ayr was no very great distance from thatriver, at two hours before midnight the little army entered LaglaneWood; where they halted, while Wallace, with his chieftains proceededto reconnoiter the town. The wind swept in gusts through the trees, and seemed by its dismal yellings, to utter warnings of the dreadfulretributions he was about to inflict. He had already declared his planof destruction; and Graham, as a first measure, went to the spot he hadfixed on with Macdougal, his servant, as a place of rendezvous. Hereturned with the man; who informed Wallace, that in honor of thesequestrated lands of the murdered chiefs having been that daypartitioned by De Valance amongst certain Southron lords, a grand feastwas going on in the governor's palace. Under the very roof where theyhad shed the blood of the trusting Scots, they were now keeping thiscarousal!

"Now, then, is our time to strike!" cried Wallace; and orderingdetachments of his men to take possession of the avenues to the town, he set forth with others, to reach the front of the castle gates, by aless frequented path than the main street. The darkness being so greatthat no object could be distinctly seen, they had not gone far, beforeMacdougal, who had undertaken to be their guide, discovered by theprojection of a hill on the right, that he had lost the road. 

"Our swords will find one!" exclaimed Kirkpatrick. 

Unwilling to miss any advantage, in a situation where so much was atstake, Wallace gladly hailed a twinkling light, which gleamed from whathe supposed the window of a distant cottage. Kirkpatrick, withMacdougal, offered to go forward, and explore what it might be. In afew minutes they arrived at a thatched building; from which, to theirsurprise, issued the wailing strains of the coronach. Kirkpatrickpaused. Its melancholy notes were sung by female voices. Hence, therebeing no danger in applying to such harmless inhabitants, to learn theway to the citadel, he proceeded to the door; when, intending to knock, the weight of his mailed arm burst open its slender latch, anddiscovered two poor women, in an inner apartment, wringing their handsover a shrouded corpse. While the chief entered his friends came up. Murray and Graham, struck with sounds never breathed over the vulgardead, lingered at the porch wondering what noble Scot could be thesubject of lamentation in so lowly an abode. The stopping of these twochieftains impeded the steps of Wallace, who was pressing forward, without eye or ear for anything but the object of his search. Kirkpatrick at that moment appeared on the threshold, and without aword, putting forth his hand, seized the arm of his commander, andpulled him into the cottage. Before Wallace could ask the reason ofthis, he saw a woman run forward with a light in her hand; the beams ofwhich falling on the face of the knight of Ellerslie, with a shriek ofjoy she rushed toward him, and threw herself upon his neck. 

He instantly recognized Elspa, his nurse; the faithful attendant on hisgrandfather's declining years! the happy matron who had decked thebridal bed of his Marion! and with an anguish of recollections thatalmost unmanned him, he returned her affectionate embrace. 

"Here he lies!" cried the old woman, drawing him toward the rushy bier;and before he had time to demand, "Who?" she pulled down the shroud anddisclosed the body of Sir Ronald Crawford. Wallace gazed on it, with alook of such dreadful import that Edwin, whose anxious eyes then soughthis countenance, trembled with a nameless horror. "Oh, " thought he, "to what is this noble soul reserved! Is he alone doomed to extirpatethe enemies of Scotland, that every ill falls direct upon his head!"

"Sorry, sorry bier, for the good Lord Ronald!" cried the old woman; "apoor wake to mourn the loss of him who was the benefactor of all thecountry round! But had I not brought him here, the salt sea must havebeen his grave. " Here sobs prevented her utterance; but after a shortpause, with many vehement lamentations over the virtues of the dead, and imprecations on his murderers, she related that as soon as thewoful tidings were brought to Monktown kirk (and brought too by theSouthron, who was to take it in possession!) she and the clan's-folkwho would not swear fidelity to the new lord, were driven from thehouse. She hastened to the bloody theater of massacre; and therebeheld the bodies of the murdered chiefs drawn on sledges to theseashore. Elspa knew that of her master, by the scar on his breast, which he had received in the battle of Largs. When she saw corpseafter corpse thrown, with a careless hand, into the waves, and the manapproached who was to cast the honored chief of Monktown, to the sameunhallowed burial, she threw herself frantically on the body, and somoved the man's compassion, that, taking advantage of the time when hiscomrades were out of sight, he permitted her to wrap the dead SirRonald in her plaid, and so carry him away between her sister andherself. But ere she had raised her sacred burden, the man directedher to seek the venerable head from amongst the others, which laymingled in a sack; drawing it forth, she placed it beside the body, andthen hastily retired with both, to the hovel where Wallace had foundher. It was a shepherd's hut, from which the desolation of the timeshaving long ago driven away its former inhabitant, she had hoped thatin so lonely an obscurity, she might have performed without notice, achieftain's rites, to the remains of the murdered lord of the verylands on which she wept him. These over, she meant he should beinterred in secret by the fathers of a neighboring church, which he hadonce richly endowed. With these intentions, she and her sister werechanting over him the sad dirge of their country, when Sir RogerKirkpatrick burst open the door. "Ah!" cried she, as she closed thedismal narrative; "though two lonely women were all they had left ofthe lately thronged household of Sir Ronald Crawford, to raise the lastlament over his revered body, yet in that and midnight hour, ourearthly voices were not alone; the wakeful spirits of his daughters, hovered in the air, and joined the deep coronach!"

Wallace sighed heavily as he looked on the animated face of the agedmourner. Attachment to the venerable dead seemed to have inspired herwith thoughts beyond her station; but the heart is an able teacher, andhe saw that true affection speaks but one language. 

As her ardent eyes withdrew from their heavenward gaze, they fell uponthe shrouded face of her master. A napkin concealed the wound ofdecapitation. "Chiefs, " cried she, in a burst of recollection, "yehave not seen all the cruelty of these murderers!" At these words shesuddenly withdrew the linen, and lifting up the pale head, held itwofully toward Wallace. "Here, " cried she, "once more kiss these lips! They have often kissed yours, when you were a babe; and as insensibleto his love, as he is now to your sorrow. "

Wallace received the head in his arms; the long silver beard, thickwith gouts of blood, hung over his hands. He gazed on it, intently, for some minutes. An awful silence pervaded the room; every eye wasriveted upon him. 

Looking round on his friends, with a countenance whose deadly hue gavea sepulchral fire to the gloomy denunciation of his eyes; "Was itnecessary, " said he, "to turn my heart to iron, that I was brought tosee this sight?" All the tremendous purpose of his soul was read inhis face, while he laid the head back upon the bier. His lips againmoved, but none heard what he said. He rushed from the hut, and withrapid strides, proceeded in profound silence toward the palace. 

He well knew that no honest Scot could be under that roof. Thebuilding, though magnificent, was altogether a structure of wood; tofire it, then, was his determination. TO destroy all, at once, in thetheater of their cruelty; to make an execution, not engage in a warfareof man to man, was his resolution; for they were not soldiers hew asseeking, but assassins; and to pitch his brave Scots in the open fieldagainst such unmanly wretches would be to dishonor his men, to givecriminals a chance for the lives they had forfeited. 

All being quiet in the streets through which he passed, and having setstrong bodies of men at the mouth of every sallyport of the citadel, hemade a bold attack upon the guard at the barbican-gate; and, ere theycould give the alarm, all being slain, he and his chosen troop enteredthe portal, and made direct to the palace. The lights which blazedthrough the windows of the banqueting hall showed him to the spot; and, having detached Graham and Edwin to storm the keep, where their fatherswere confined, he took the half-intoxicated sentinels at thepalace-gates by surprise, and striking them into a sleep from whichthey would wake no more, he fastened the doors upon the assassins. Hismen surrounded the building with hurdles filled with combustibles, which they had prepared according to his directions; and, when all wasready, Wallace, with the mighty spirit of retribution nerving everylimb, mounted to the roof, and tearing off the shingles, with a flamingbrand in his hand, showed himself to the affrighted revelers beneath;and, as he threw it blazing among them, he cried aloud, "The blood ofthe murdered calls for vengeance, and it comes. "

At that instant the matches were put to the fagots which surrounded thebuilding; and the party within, springing from their seats, hastenedtoward the doors. All were fastened on them; and retreating into themidst of the room, they fearfully looked toward the tremendous figureabove, which, like a supernatural being, seemed indeed come to rainfire upon their guilty heads. Some shook with superstitious dread;others, driven to atheistical despair, with horrible execrations, againstrove to force a passage through the doors. A second glance told DeValence whose was the hand which had launched the thunderbolt at hisfeet; and, turning to Sir Richard Arnuf, he cried, in a voice ofhorror, "My arch-enemy is there!"

Thick smoke rising from within and without the building now obscuredhis terrific form. The shouts of the Scots as the fire covered itswalls, and the streaming flames licking the windows, and pouring intoevery opening of the building, raised such a terror in the breasts ofthe wretches within, that, with the most horrible cries, they again andagain flew to the doors to escape. Not an avenue appeared; almostsuffocated with smoke, and scorched by the blazing rafters which fellfrom the burning roof, they at last made a desperate attempt to break apassage through the great portal. Arnuf was at their head, and sunk toabjectness by his despair, in a voice which terror rendered piercing, he called aloud for mercy. The words reached the ear of Sir RogerKirkpatrick, who stood neared to the door. In a voice of thunder hereplied, "That ye gave, ye shall receive. Where was mercy when ourfathers and our brothers fell beneath your murderous axes!"

Aymer de Valence came up at this moment with a wooden pillar, which heand his strongest men in the company had torn from under the gallerythat surrounded the room, and with all their strength dashing itagainst the great door, they at last drove it from its bolts. But nowa wall of men opposed them. Desperate at the sight, and with a burningfurnace in their rear, it was not the might of man that could preventtheir escape, and with the determination of despair, rushing forward, the foremost rank of Scots fell. But ere the exulting Southrons couldpress out into the open space, Wallace himself had closed upon them, and Arnuf, the merciless Arnuf, whose voice had pronounced the sentenceof death upon Sir Ronald Crawford, died beneath his hand. 

Wallace was not aware that he had killed the Governor of Ayr till theterror-struck exclamations of his enemies informed him that theruthless instigator of the massacre was slain. This event was welcomenews to the Scots; and hoping that the next death would be that of DeValence, they pressed on with redoubled energy. 

Aroused by so extraordinary a noise, and alarmed by the flames of thepalace, the soldiers quartered near hastened half armed to the spot. But their presence rather added to the confusion than gave assistanceto the besieged. They were without leaders, and not daring to putthemselves to action, for fear of being afterward punished (in the caseof a mischance) for having presumed to move without their officers, they stood dismayed and irresolute, while those very officers, who hadbeen all at the banquet, were falling in heaps under the swords of theexterminating Scots. 

Meanwhile, the men who guarded the prisoners in the keep, having theircommanders with them, made a stout resistance there; and one of theofficers, seeing a possible advantage, stole out, and, gathering acompany of the scattered garrison, suddenly taking Graham in flank, made no inconsiderable havoc amongst that part of his division. Edwinblew the signal for assistance. Wallace heard the blast; and seeingthe day was won at the palace, he left the finishing of the affair toKirkpatrick and Murray; and, drawing off a small party to reinforceGraham, he took the Southron officer by surprise. The enemy's ranksfell around him like corn beneath the sickle; and, grasping a hugebattering ram which his men had found, he burst open the door of thekeep. Graham and Edwin rushed in; and Wallace, sounding his own buglewith the notes of victory, his reserves (whom he had placed at the endsof the streets) entered in every direction, and received the flyingsoldiers of De Valence upon their pikes. 

Dreadful was now the carnage; for the Southrons, forgetting alldiscipline, fought every man for his life; which the furious Scotsdriving them into the far-spreading flames, what escaped the swordwould have perished in the fire, had not the relenting heart of Wallacepleaded for bleeding humanity, and he ordered the trumpet to sound aparley. He was obeyed; and, standing on an adjacent mound, in an awfulvoice he proclaimed that "whoever had not been accomplices in thehorrible massacre of the Scottish chiefs, if they would ground theirarms, and take an oath never to serve again against Scotland, theirlives should be spared. "

Hundreds of swords fell to the ground; and their late holders, kneelingat his feet, took the oath perscribed. At the head of those whosurrendered appeared the captain who had commanded at the prison. Hewas the only officer of all the late garrison who survived, all elsehad fallen in the conflict or perished in the flames; and when he sawthat not one of his late numerous companions existed to go through thesame humiliating ceremony, with an aghast countenance he said toWallace, as he presented his sword, "Then I must believe that, withthis weapon, I am surrendering to Sir William Wallace the possession ofthis castle and the government of Ayr. I see not one of my latecommanders-all must be slain; and for me to hold out longer would be tosacrifice my men, not to redeem that which has been so completelywrested from us. But I serve severe exactors, and I hope that yourtestimony, my conqueror, will assure my king that I fought as becamehis standard. "

Wallace gave him a gracious answer; and committing him to the generouscare of Murray, he turned to give orders to Ker respecting thesurrendered and the slain. During these momentous events, Graham haddeemed it prudent that, exhausted by anxiety and privations, the noblecaptives should not come forth to join in the battle; and not until thesound of victory echoed through the arches of their dungeons, would hesuffer the eager Dundaff to see and thank his deliverer. Meanwhile, the young Edwin appeared before the eyes of his father, like the angelwho opened the prison gates to Peter. After embracing him with all ason's fondness, in which for the moment he lost the repressing idea, that he might have offended by his truancy; after recounting, in a fewhasty sentences, the events which had brought him to be a companion ofSir William Wallace; and to avenge the injuries of Scotland in Ayr, heknocked off the chains of his amazed father. Eager to perform the likeservice to all who had suffered in like manner, and accompanied by thehappy Lord Ruthven (who gazed with delight on his son, treading soearly the path of glory), he hastened around to the other dungeons; andgladly proclaimed to the astonished inmates, freedom and safety. Having rid them of their shackles, he had just entered with his noblecompany into the vaulted chamber, which contained the released LordDundaff, when the peaceful clarion sounded. At the joyful tidings, Graham started on his feet: "Now, my father, you shall see the bravestof men!"

Chapter XXX. 

The Barns of Ayr. 

Morning was spreading in pale light over the heavens, and condensingwith its cold breath the lurid smoke which still ascended in volumesfrom the burning ruins, when Wallace, turning round at the glad voiceof Edwin, beheld the released nobles. This was the first time he hadever seen the Lords Dundaff and Ruthven; but several of the others heremembered having met at the fatal decision of the crown; and, whilewelcoming to his friendship those to whom his valor had given freedom, how great was his surprise to see, in the person of a prisoner suddenlybrought before him, Sir John Monteith; the young chieftain whom he hadparted with a few months ago at Douglas; and from whose fatalinvitation to that castle he might date the ruin of his dearesthappiness, and all the succeeding catastrophe!

"We found Sir John Monteith amongst the slain before the palace, " saidKer; "he, of the whole party, alone breathed; I knew him instantly. How he came there I know not; but I have brought him hither to explainit himself. " Ker withdrew, to finish the interment of the dead. 

Monteith, still leaning on the arm of a soldier, grasped Wallace'shand. "My brave friend!" cried he, "to owe my liberty to you is atwofold pleasure; for, " added he, in a lowered voice, "I see before methe man who is to verify the words of Baliol; and be not only theguardian, but the possessor of the treasure he committed to our care!"

Wallace, who had never thought on the coffer, since he knew it wasunder the protection of St. Fillan, shook his head. "A far differentneed do I seek, my friend!" said he; "to behold these happycountenances of my liberated countrymen is greater reward to me thanwould be the development of all the splendid mysteries which the headof Baliol could devise. "

"Ay!" cried Dundaff, who overheard this part of the conversation, "weinvited the usurpation of a tyrant by the docility with which wesubmitted to his minion. Had we rejected Baliol, we had never beenridden by Edward. But the rowel has gored the flanks of us all! andwho amongst us will not lay himself and fortune at the foot of him whoplucks away the tyrant's heel?"

"It all held our cause in the light that you do, " returned Wallace, "the blood which these Southrons have sown would rise up in tenthousand legions to overwhelm the murderers!"

"But how, " inquired he, turning to Monteith, "did you happen to be inAyr at this period? and how, above all, amongst the slaughteredSouthrons at the palace?"

Sir John Monteith readily replied: "My adverse fate accounts for all. "He then proceeded to inform Wallace, that on the very night in whichthey parted at Douglas, Sir Arthur Heselrigge was told the story of thebox: and accordingly sent to have Monteith brought prisoner to Lanark. He lay in the dungeons of its citadel at the very time Wallace enteredthat town and destroyed the governor. Though the Scots did not pursuethe advantage offered by the transient panic into which the retributionthrew their enemies, care was immediately taken by the Englishlieutenant to prevent a repetition of the same disasters; and, inconsequence, every suspected person was seized, and those already inconfinement loaded with chains. Monteith being known as a friend ofWallace, was sent under a strong guard toward Stirling, there to standhis trial before Cressingham and the English Justiciary, Ormsby. "By alucky chance, " said he, "I made my escape; but I was soon retaken byanother party, and conveyed to Ayr, where the Lieutenant-governorArnuf, discovering my talents for music, compelled me to sing at hisentertainments. "

"For this purpose, he last night confined me in the banquetingroom atthe palace, and thus, when the flames surrounded that building, I foundmyself exposed to die the death of a traitor, though then as muchoppressed as any other Scot. Snatching up a sword, and striving tojoin my brave countrymen, the Southrons impeded my passage, and I fellunder their arms. "

Happy to have rescued his old acquaintance from further indignities, Wallace committed him to Edwin to lead into the citadel. Then takingthe colors of Edward from the ground (where the Southron officer hadlaid them), he gave them to Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, with orders tofill their former station on the citadel with the standard of Scotland. This action he considered as the seal of each victory; as the beaconwhich, seen from afar, would show the desolate Scots where to find aprotector, and from what ground to start when courage should promptthem to assert their rights. 

The standard was no sooner raised than the proud clarion of triumph wasblown from every warlike instrument in the garrison and the Southroncaptain, placing himself at the head of his disarmed troops, under theescort of Murray, marched out of the castle. He announced his designto proceed immediately to Newcastle, and thence embark with his men tojoin their king at Flanders. Not more than two hundred followed theirofficer in this expedition, for not more were English; the rest, tonearly double that number, being, like the garrison of Dumbarton, Irishand Welsh, were glad to escape enforced servitude. Some parted off indivisions to return to their respective countries, while a few, whoseenergetic spirits preferred a life of warfare in the cause of a countrystruggling for freedom, before returning to submit to the oppressors oftheir own, enlisted under the banners of Wallace. 

Some other necessary regulations being then made, he dismissed hisgallant Scots, to find refreshment in the well-stored barracks of thedispersed Southrons, and retired himself to join his friends in thecitadel. 

Chapter XXXI. 

Berwick and the Tweed. 

In the course of an hour Murray returned from having seen the departingSouthrons beyond the barriers of the township. But he did not comealone; he was accompanied by Lord Auchinleck, the son of one of thebetrayed barons who had fallen in the palace of Ayr. This youngchieftain, at the head of his vassals, hastened to support the manwhose dauntless hand had thus satisfied his revenge; and when he metMurray at the north gate of the town, and recognized in his flyingbanners a friend of Scotland, he was happy to make himself known to anofficer of Wallace, and to be conducted to that chief. 

While Lord Andrew and his new colleague were making the range of thesuburbs, the glad progress of the victor Scots had turned the wholeaspect of that gloomy city. Doors and windows, so recently closed indeep mourning, for the sanguinary deeds done in the palace, now openedteeming with smiling inhabitants. The general joy penetrated to themost remote recesses. Mothers now threw their fond arms around thenecks of the children whom just before they had regarded with theaverted eyes of despair; in the one sex, they then beheld the victimsof, perhaps, the next requisition for blood; and in the other, thehapless prey of passions, more felt than the horrid rage of the beastof the field. But now all was secure again. These terrific tyrantswere driven hence; and the happy parent, embracing her offspring as ifrestored from the grave, implored a thousand blessings on the head ofWallace, the gifted agent of all this good. 

Sons who in secret had lamented the treacherous death of their fathers, and brothers of their brothers, now opened their gates, and joined thevaliant troops in the streets. Widowed wives and fatherless daughtersalmost forgot they had been bereaved of their natural protectors, whenthey saw Scotland rescued from her enemies, and her armed sons, oncemore walking in the broad day, masters of themselves and of theircountry's liberties. 

Thus, then, with every heart rejoicing, every house teeming withnumbers to swell the ranks of Wallace, did he, the day after he hadentered Ayr, see all arranged for its peaceful establishment. But erehe bade that town adieu, in which he had been educated, and wherealmost every man, remembering its preserver's boyish years, throngedround him with recollections of former days, one duty yet demanded hisstay: to pay funeral honors to the remains of his beloved grandfather. 

Accordingly, the time was fixed; and with every solemnity due to hisvirtues and his rank, Sir Ronald Crawford was buried in the chapel ofthe citadel. It was not a scene of mere ceremonious mourning. As hehad been the father of the fatherless, he was followed to the grave bymany an orphan's tears; and as he had been the protector of thedistressed of every degree, a procession, long and full of lamentation, conducted his shrouded corpse to its earthly rest. The mourningfamilies of the chiefs who had fallen in the same bloody theater withhimself, closed the sad retinue; and while the holy rites committed hisbody to the ground, the sacred mass was extended to those who had beenplunged into the weltering element. 

While Wallace confided the aged Elspa and her sister to the care of SirReginald Crawford, to whom he also resigned the lands of hisgrandfather; "Cousin, " said he, "you are a valiant and a humane man! Ileave you to be the representative of your venerable uncle; to cherishthese poor women whom he loved; to be the protector of his people andthe defender of the town. The citadel is under the command of theBaron of Auchinleck; he, with his brave followers, being the first tohail the burning of the accursed Barns of Ayr. "

After this solemnity, and these dispositions, Wallace called a reviewof his troops; and found that he could leave five hundred men at Ayr, and march an army of at least two thousand out of it. 

His present design was to take his course to Berwick; and, by seizingevery castle of strength in his way, form a chain of works across thecountry, which would not only bulwark Scotland against any furtherinroads from its enemies, but render the subjugation of the interiorSouthron garrisons more certain and easy. 

On the third morning after the conflagration of the palace, Wallacequitted Ayr; and marching over its far-stretching hills, manned everywatch-tower on their summits. For now, whithersoever he moved, hefound his victories had preceded him; and all, from hall to hovel, turned out to greet and offer him their services. Thus, heralded byfame, the panic-struck Southron governors fled at the distant view ofhis standards; the flames of Ayr seemed to menace them all, and castleand fortalice, from Muirkirk to the walls of Berwick, opened theirgates before him. 

Arrived under those blood-stained towers which had so often been theobjects of dispute between the powers of England and of Scotland, heprepared for their immediate attack. Berwick being a valuable fortressto the enemy, not only as a key to the invaded kingdom, but a pointwhence by their ships they commanded the whole of the eastern coast ofScotland, Wallace expected that a desperate stand would be made here tostop the progress of his arms. But being aware that the mostexpeditious mode of warfare was the best adapted to promote his cause, he first took the town by assault; and then, having driven the garrisoninto the citadel, assailed it by a vigorous seige. 

After ten days hard duty before the walls, Wallace devised a plan toobtain possession of the English ships which commanded the harbor. Hefound among his own troops many men who had been used to a seafaringlife; these he disguised as fugitive Southrons from the late defeats, and sent in boats to the enemy's vessels which lay in the roads. Thefeint took; and by these means getting possession of those nearest thetown, he manned them with his own people; and going out with themhimself, in three days made himself master of every ship on the coast. 

By this maneuver the situation of the beseiged was rendered sohopeless, that no mode of escape was left but by desperate sallies. They made them, but without other effect than weakening their strengthand increasing their miseries. Wallace was for them to do in theirsituation, he needed no better spy over their actions than his ownjudgment. 

Foiled in every attempt, as their opponent, guessing their intentions, was prepared at every point to meet their different essays, and losingmen at every rencounter, their governor stood without resource. Without provisions, without aid of any kind for his wounded men, andhourly annoyed by the victorious Scots, who continued day and night tothrow showers of arrows, and other missile weapons, from the towers andspringalls with which they had overtopped the walls, the unhappy Earlof Gloucester seemed ready to rush on death, to avoid the disgrace ofsurrendering the fortress. Every soul in the garrison was reduced tosimilar despair. Wallace even found means to dam up the spring whichhad supplied the citadel with water. The common men, famished withhunger, smarting with wounds, and now perishing with inextinguishablethirst, threw themselves at the feet of their officers, imploring themto represent to their royal governor that if he held out longer, hemust defend the place alone, for they could not exist another day undertheir present sufferings. 

The earl indeed repented the rashness with which he had thrown himselfunprovisioned into the citadel. He now saw that expectation was noapology for want of precaution. When his first division had beenoverpowered in the assault on the town, his evil genius then suggestedthat it was best to take the second unbroken into the citadel, andthere await the arrival of a reinforcement by sea. But he thencebeheld the ships which had defended the harbor seized by Wallace beforehis eyes. Hope was then crushed, and nothing but death or dishonorseemed to be his alternatives. Cut to the soul at the consequences ofhis want of judgment, he determined to retrieve his fame by washing outthat error with his blood. To fall under the ruins of Berwick Castlewas his resolution. Such was the state of his mind when his officersappeared with the petition from his men. In proportion as they feltthe extremities into which they were driven, the offense he hadcommitted glared with tenfold enormity in his eyes; and, in a wilddespair, he told them "they might do as they would, but for his part, the moment they opened the gates to the enemy, that moment should bethe last of his life. He, that was the son-in-law of King Edward, would never yield his sword to a Scottish rebel. "

Terrified at these threats on himself, the soldiers, who loved theirgeneral, declared themselves willing to die with him; and, as a lasteffort, proposed making a mine under the principal tower of the Scots;and by setting fire to it, at least destroy the means by which theyfeared their enemies might storm the citadel. 

As Wallace gave his orders from this commanding station, he observedthe besieged passing in numbers behind a mound, in the direction of thetower where he stood: he concluded what was their design; and orderinga countermine to be made, what he anticipated happened; and Murray, atthe head of his miners, encountered those of the castle at the verymoment they would have set fire to the combustibles laid to consume thetower. The instant struggle was violent, but short; for the impetuousScots drove their amazed and enfeebled adversaries through theaperture, back into the citadel. At this crisis, Wallace, with a bandof resolute men, sprung from the tower upon the wall; and it beingalmost deserted by its late guards (who had quitted their post toassist in repelling the foe below), he leaped into the midst of theconflict and the battle became general. It was decisive; for beholdingthe undaunted resolution with which the weakened and dying weresupporting the cause their governor was determined to defend to thelast, Wallace found his admiration and his pity alike excited; and evenwhile his followers seemed to have each his foe's life in his hands, when one instant more would make him the undisputed master of thecastle (for not a Southron would then breathe to dispute it), heresolved to stop the carnage. At the moment when a gallant officer, who, having assaulted him with the vehemence of despair, now laydisarmed under him; at that moment when the discomfited knightexclaimed, "In mercy strike, and redeem the honor of Ralph deMonthermer!"** Wallace raised his bugle and sounded the note of peace. Every sword was arrested, and the universal clangor of battle washushed in expecting silence. 

**Ralph de Monthermer, a noble knight who married Jane of Acre, thedaughter of King Edward I. He was created Earl of Gloucester on hismarriage with that princess. -(1809. )

"Rise, brave earl, " cried Wallace, to the governor; "I revere virtuetoo sincerely to take an unworthy advantage of my fortune. The valorof this garrison commands my respect; and, as a proof of my sincerity, I grant to it what I have never yet done to any: that yourself andthese dauntless men march out with the honors of war, and without anybonds on your future conduct toward us. We leave it to your own heartsto decide whether you will ever be again made instruments to enchain afree and brave people. "

While he was speaking, De Monthermer leaned gloomily on the sword hehad returned to him, with his eyes fixed on his men. They answered hisglance with looks that said they understood him: and passing a fewwords in whispers to each other, one at last spoke aloud: "Decide forus, earl. We are as ready to die as to live; so that in neither we maybe divided from you. "

At this generous declaration the proud despair of De Monthermer gaveway to nobler feelings; and while a big tear stood in each eye, heturned to Wallace, and stretching out his hand to him. "Noble Scot, "said he, "your unexampled generosity, and the invincible fidelity ofthese heroic men, have compelled me to accept the life I had resolvedto lose under these walls, rather than resign them. But virtue isresistless, and to it do I surrender that pride of soul which madeexistence insufferable under the consciousness of having erred. When Ibecame the husband of King Edward's daughter, I believed myself pledgedto victories or to death. But there is a conquest, and I feel it, greater than over hosts in the field; and here taught to make it, thehusband of the princess of England, the proud Earl of Gloucester, consents to live to be a monument of Scottish nobleness, and of theinflexible fidelity of English soldiers. "

"You live, illustrious and virtuous Englishmen, " returned Wallace, "toredeem that honor of which too many rapacious sons of England haverobbed their country. Go forth, therefore, as my conqueror, for youhave on this spot extinguished that burning antipathy with which theoutraged heart of William Wallace had vowed to extirpate every Southronfrom off this ravaged land. Honor, brave earl, makes all men brethren;and, as a brother, I open these gates for you, to repass into yourcountry. When there, if you ever remember William Wallace, let it beas a man who fights, not for conquest or renown, but to restoreScotland to her rights, and then resign his sword to peace. "

"I shall remember you, Sir William Wallace!" returned De Monthermer;"and, as a pledge of it, you shall never see me again in this countrytill I come an embassador of that peace for which you fight. Butmeanwhile, in the moment of hot contention for the rights which youbelieve wrested from you, do you remember that they have not been somuch the spoil of my royal father's ambition as the traffic of your ownvenal nobles. Had I not believed that Scotland was unworthy offreedom, I should never have appeared upon her borders; but now that Isee that she has brave hearts within her, who not only resistoppression, but know how to wield power, I detest the zeal with which Ivolunteered to rivet her chains. And I repeat, that never again shallmy hostile foot impress this land. "

These sentiments were answered in the same spirit by his soldiers; andthe Scots, following the example of their leader, treated them withevery kindness. After dispensing amongst them provisions, andappointing means to convey the wounded in comfort, Wallace bade acordial farewell to the Earl of Gloucester, and his men conducted theirreconciled enemies over the Tweed. There they parted. The Englishbent their course toward London, and the Scots returned to theirvictorious general. 

Chapter XXXII. 

Stirling. 

The happy effects of these rapid conquests were soon apparent. Thefall of Berwick excited such a confidence in the minds of theneighboring chieftains, that every hour brought fresh recruits toWallace. Every mouth was full of the praises of the young conqueror;every eye was eager to catch a glimpse of his person; and while the menwere emulous to share his glory, the women in their secret bowers putup prayers for the preservation of one so handsome and so brave. 

Amongst the many of every rank and age who hastened to pay theirrespects to the deliverer of Berwick, was Sir Richard Maitland, ofThirlestane, the Stawlart Knight of Lauderdale. **

**Sir Richard Maitland, of the castle of Thirlestane on the Leeder, isnoted in Scottish tradition for his bravery. His valiant defense ofhis castle against the English in his extreme old age, is still thesubject of enthusiasm amongst the people of Lauderdale. 

Wallace was no sooner told of the approach of the venerable chief, thanhe set forth to bid him welcome. At sight of the champion of Scotland, Sir Richard threw himself off his horse with a military grace thatmight have become even youthful years; and hastening toward Wallace, clasped him in his arms. 

"Let me look on thee!" cried the old knight; "let me feast my eyes onthe true Scot, who again raises this hoary head, so long bent in shamefor its dishonored country!" While he spoke, he viewed Wallace fromhead to foot. "I knew Sir Ronald Crawford, and thy valiant father, "continued he, "O! had they lived to see this day! But the base murderof the one thou hast nobly avenged, and the honorable grave of theother, on Loudon Hill, ** thou wilt cover with a monument of thine ownglories. Low are laid my own children, in this land of strife, but inthee I see a son of Scotland that is to dry all our tears. "

**Sir Malcolm Wallace, the father of Sir William Wallace, was killed inthe year 1295, on Loudon Hill, in a battle with the English. 

He embraced Wallace again and again; and, as the veteran's overflowingheart rendered him garrulous, he expatiated on the energy with whichthe young victor had pursued his conquests, and paralleled them withthe brilliant actions he had seen in his youth. While he thusdiscoursed, Wallace drew him toward the castle, and there presented tohim the two nephews of the Earl of May. 

He paid some warm compliments to Edwin on his early success in thecareer of glory; and then turning to Murray: "Ay!" said he, "it is joyto me to see the valiant house of Bothwell in the third generation. Thy grandfather and myself were boys together at the coronation ofAlexander the Second; and that is eighty years ago. Since then, whathave I not seen! the death of two noble Scottish kings! our bloomingprinces ravished from us by untimely fates! the throne sold to acoward, and at last seized by a foreign power! Then, in my own person, I have been the father of as brave and beauteous a family as everblessed a parent's eye; but they are all torn from me. Two of my sonssleep on the plains of Dunbar; my third, my dauntless William, sincethat fatal day, has been kept a prisoner in England. And my daughters, the tender blossoms of my aged years-they grew around me, the fairestlilies of the land: but they, too, are passed away. The one, scorningthe mere charms of youth, and preferring a union with a soul that hadlong conversed with superior regions, loved the sage of Ercildown. Butmy friend lost this rose of his bosom, and I the child of my heart, ereshe had been a year his wife. Then was my last and only daughtermarried to the Lord Mar; and in giving birth to my dear Isabella she, too, died. Ah, my good young knight, were it not for that sweet child, the living image of her mother, who in the very spring of youth wascropped and fell, I should be alone: my hoary head would descend to thegrave, unwept, unregretted!"

The joy of the old man having recalled such melancholy remembrances, hewept upon the shoulder of Edwin, who had drawn so near, that the story, was begun to Murray, was ended to him. To give the mourning fathertime to recover himself, Wallace was moving away, when he was met byKer, bringing information that a youth had just arrived in breathlesshaste from Stirling, with a sealed packet, which he would not deliverinto any hands but those of Sir William Wallace. Wallace requested hisfriends to show every attention to the Lord of Thirlestane, and thenwithdrew to meet the messenger. 

On his entering the ante-room, the youth sprung forward, but suddenlychecking himself, he stood as if irresolute whom to address. 

"This is Sir William Wallace, young man, " said Ker; "deliver yourembassy. "

At these words the youth pulled a packet from his bosom, and putting itinto the chief's hand, retired in confusion. Wallace gave orders toKer to take care of him, and then turned to inspect its contents. Hewondered from whom it would come, aware of no Scot in Stirling whowould dare to write to him while that town was possessed by the enemy. But not losing a moment in conjecture, he broke the seal. 

How was he startled at the first words! and how was every energy of hisheart roused to redoubled action when he turned to the signature! Thefirst words in the letter were these:

"A daughter, trembling for the life of her father, presumes to addressSir William Wallace. " The signature was "Helen Mar. " He began theletter again:

"A daughter, trembling for the life of her father, presumes to addressSir William Wallace. Alas! it will be a long letter! for it is to tellof our countless distresses. You have been his deliverer from thesword, from chains, and from the waves. Refuse not to save him againto whom you have so often given life, and hasten, brave Wallace, topreserve the Earl of Mar from the scaffold. 

"A cruel deception brought him from the Isle of Bute, where youimagined you had left him in security. Lord Aymer de Valence, escapinga second time from your sword, fled under rapacious robber of all ourcastles, found in him an apt coadjutor. They concerted how to avengeyour late successes; and Cressingham, eager to enrich himself, while heflattered the resentments of his commander, suggested that you, SirWilliam Wallace, our deliverer, and our enemy's scourge, would mosteasily be made to feel through the bosoms of your friends. These cruelmen have therefore determined, by a mock trial, to condemn my father todeath, and thus, while they distress you, put themselves in possessionof his lands, with the semblance of justice. 

"The substance of this most unrighteous debate was communicated to meby De Valence himself; thinking to excuse his part in the affair byproving to me how insensible he is to the principles which move alike apatriot and a man of honor. 

"Having learned from some too well-informed spy that Lord Mar hadretired in peaceful obscurity to Bute, these arch-enemies to ourcountry sent a body of men disguised as Scots to Gourock. There theydispatched a messenger into the island to inform Lord Mar that SirWilliam Wallace was on the banks of the Frith waiting to converse withhim. My noble father, unsuspicious of treachery, hurried to thesummons. Lady Mar accompanied him, and so both fell into the snare. 

"They were brought prisoners to Stirling, where another afflictionawaited him;-he was to see his daughter and his sister in captivity. 

"After I had been betrayed from St. Fillian's monastery by thefalsehoods of one Scottish knight, and were rescued from his power bythe gallantry of another, I sought the protection of my aunt, LadyRuthven, who then dwelt at Alloa, on the banks of the Forth. Herhusband had been invited to Ayr by some treacherous requisition of thegovernor, Arnuf; and with many other lords was thrown into prison. Report says, bravest of men, that you have given freedom to my betrayeduncle. 

"The moment Lord Ruthven's person was secured, his estates were seized, and my aunt and myself being found at Alloa, we were carried prisonersto this city. Alas! we had then no valiant arm to preserve us from ourenemies! Lady Ruthven's first born son was slain in the fatal day ofDunbar, and in terror of the like fate, she placed her eldest survivingboy in a convent. 

"Some days after our arrival, my dear father was brought to Stirling. Though a captive in the town, I was not then confined to any closerdurance than the walls. While he was yet passing through the streets, rumor told my aunt that the Scottish lord then leading to prison washer beloved brother. She flew to me in agony to tell me the dreadfultidings. I heard no more, saw no more, till, having rushed into thestreets, and bursting through every obstacle of crowd and soldiers, Ifound myself clasped in my father's arms-in his shackled arms! What amoment was that! Where was Sir William Wallace in that hour? Wherethe brave unknown knight, who had sworn to me to seek my father, anddefend him with his life? Both were absent, and he was in chains. 

"My grief and distraction baffled the attempts of the guards to partus, and what became of me I know not until I found myself lying on acouch, attended by many women, and supported by my aunt. When I hadrecovered to lamentation and to tears, my aunt told me I was in theapartments of the deputy warden. He, with Cressingham, having gone outto meet the man they had so basely drawn into their toils, De Valencehimself saw the struggles of paternal affection contending against themen who would have torn a senseless daughter from his arms, and yet, merciless man! he separated us, and sent me, with my aunt, a prisonerto his house. 

"The next day a packet was put into my aunt's hands, containing a fewprecious lines from my father to me, also a letter from the countess toLady Ruthven, full of your goodness to her and to my father, andnarrating the cruel manner in which they had been ravished from theasylum in which you had placed them. She then said that could she findmeans of apprising you of the danger to which she and her husband arenow involved, she would be sure of a second rescue. Whether she hasblessedly found these means I know not, for all communication betweenus, since the delivery of that letter, has been rendered impracticable. The messenger that brought the packet was a good Southron, who hadbeen won by Lady Mar's entreaties. But on his quitting our apartments, he was seized by a servant of De Valence, and on the same day putpublicly to death, to intimidate all others from the like compassion tothe sufferings of unhappy Scotland. Oh! Sir William Wallace, will notyour sword reach these men of blood?

"Earl de Valence compelled my aunt to yield the packet to him. We hadalready read it, therefore did not regret it on that head, but fearedthe information it might give relative to you. In consequence of thiscircumstance, I was made a closer prisoner. But captivity could haveno terrors for me, did it not divide me from my father. And, grief ongrief! what words have I to write it? they have CONDEMNED HIM TO DIE!That fatal letter of my step-mother's was brought out against him, andas your adherent, Sir William Wallace, they have sentenced him to losehis head!

"I have knelt to Earl de Valence; I have implored my father's life athis hands, but to no purpose. He tells me that Cressingham, at hisside, and Ormsby, by letters from Scone, declare it necessary that anexecution of consequence should be made to appall the discontentedScots; and that as no lord is more esteemed in Scotland than the Earlof Mar, he must be the sacrifice. 

"Hasten, then, my father's preserver and friend! hasten to save him!Oh, fly, for the sake of the country he loves; for the sake of thehapless beings dependent on his protection! I shall be on my kneestill I hear your trumpet before the walls; for in you and Heaven nowrest all the hopes of Helen Mar. "

A cold dew stood on the limbs of Wallace as he closed the letter. Itmight be too late! The sentence was passed on the earl, and hisexecutioners were prompt as cruel: the ax might already have fallen. 

He called to Ker, for the messenger to be brought in. He entered. Wallace inquired how long he had been from Stirling. "Only thirty-fourhours, " replied the youth, adding that he had traveled night and dayfor fear the news of the risings in Annandale, and the taking ofBerwick, should precipitate the earl's death. 

"I accompany you this instant, " cried Wallace! "Ker, see that thetroops get under arms. " As he spoke he turned into the room where hehad left the Knight of Thirlestane. 

"Sir Richard Maitland, " said he, willing to avoid exciting his alarm, "there is more work for us at Stirling. Lord Aymer de Valence hasagain escaped the death we thought had overtaken him, and is now inthat citadel. I have just received a summons thither, which I mustobey. " At these words, Sir Roger Kirkpatrick gave a shout and rushedfrom the apartment. Wallace looked after him for a moment, and thencontinued: "Follow us with your prayers, Sir Richard; and I shall notdespair of sending blessed tidings to the banks of the Lauder. "

"What has happened?" inquired Murray, who saw that something more thanthe escape of De Valence had been imparted to his general. 

"We must spare this good old man, " returned he, "and have him conductedto his home before I declare it publicly; but the Earl of Mar is againa prisoner, and in Stirling. "

Murray, who instantly comprehended his uncle's danger speeded thedeparture of Sir Richard; and as Wallace held his stirrup, the chieflaid his hand on his head, and blessed him. "The seer of Ercildown istoo ill to bring his benediction himself, but I breathe it over thisheroic brow!" Wallace bowed his head in silence; and the bridle beingin the hand of Lord Andrew, he led the horse out of the eastern gate ofthe town, where, taking leave of the veteran knight, he soon rejoinedhis commander, whom he found in the midst of his chieftains. 

He had informed them of the Earl of Mar's danger, and the policy aswell as justice of rescuing so powerful and patriotic a nobleman fromthe threatened execution. Lord Ruthven needed no arguments toprecipitate him to the assistance of his brother and his wife; and theanxieties of the affectionate Edwin were all awake when he knew thathis mother was a prisoner. Lord Andrew smiled proudly when he returnedhis cousin's letter to Wallace. "We shall have the rogue on the nailyet, " cried he; "my uncle's brave head is not ordained to fall by thestroke of such a coward!"

"So I believe, " replied Wallace; and then turning to Lord Dundaff-"Mylord, " said he, "I leave you governor of Berwick. "

The veteran warrior grasped Wallace's hand. "To be your representativein this fortress, is the proudest station this warworn frame hath everfilled. My son must be my representative with you in the field. " Hewaved Sir John Graham toward him; the young knight advanced, and LordDundaff, placing his son's hands upon his target, continued, "Swear, that as this defends the body, you will ever strive to cover Scotlandfrom her enemies; and that from this hour you will be the faithfulfriend and follower of Sir William Wallace. "

"I swear, " returned Graham, kissing the shield. Wallace pressed hishand. "I have brothers around me, rather than what the world callsfriends! And with such valor, such fidelity to aid me, can I beotherwise than a victor? Heaven's anointed sword is with suchfellowship!"

Edwin, who stood near this rite of generous enthusiasm, softlywhispered to Wallace, as he turned toward his troops, "But amongst allthese brothers, cease not to remember Edwin-the youngest and the least. Ah, my beloved general, what Jonathan was to David, I would be tothee!"

Wallace looked on him with penetrating tenderness; his heart wassuddenly wrung by a recollection, which the words of Edwin hadrecalled. "But thy love, Edwin, passes not the love of woman!" "Butit equals it. " replied he; "what has been done for thee I would do;only love me as David did Jonathan, and I shall be the happiest of thehappy. " "Be happy then, dear boy!" answered Wallace; "for all thatever beat in human breast, for friend or brother, lives in my heart forthee. "

At that moment Sir John Graham rejoined them; and some other captainscoming up. Wallace made the proper military dispositions, and everyman took his station at the head of his division. 

Until the men had marched far beyond the chance of rumors reachingThirlestane, they were not informed of the Earl of Mar's danger. Theyconceived their present errand was the recapture of De Valence. "Butat a proper moment, " said Wallace, "they shall know the whole truth;for, " added he, "as it is a law of equity, that what concerns all, should be approved by all, and that common dangers should be repelledby united efforts, the people who follow our standards, not ashirelings, but with willing spirits, ought to know our reasons forrequiring their services. "

"They who follow you, " said Graham, "have too much confidence in theirleader, to require any reasons for his movements. "

"It is to place that confidence on a sure foundation, my bravefriends, " returned Wallace, "that I explain what there is no justreason to conceal. Should policy ever compel me to strike a blowwithout previously telling my agents wherefore, I should then draw upontheir faith, and expect that confidence in my honor and arms which Inow place on their discretion and fidelity. "

Exordiums were not requisite to nerve every limb, and to strengthenevery heart in the toilsome journey. Mountains were climbed, vastplains traversed, rivers forded, and precipices crossed, without oneman in the ranks lingering on its steps, or dropping his head upon hispike, to catch a moment's slumber. Those who had fought with Wallace, longed to redouble their fame under his command; and they who hadrecently embraced his standard, panted with a virtuous ambition torival those first-born in arms. 

Sir Roger Kirkpatrick had been the first to fly to arms, on the marchto Stirling being mentioned; and when Wallace stood forward to declarethat rest should be dispensed with till Stirling fell, full of a fiercejoy, the ardent knight darted over every obstacle to reach his aim. Heflew to the van of his troops, and hailing them forward: "Come on!"cried he, "and in the blood of Cressingham let us forever sink KingEdward's Scottish crown. "

The shouts of the men, who seemed to drink in the spirit that blazedfrom Kirkpatrick's eyes, made the echoes of Lammermuir ring with along-estranged noise. It was the voice of liberty. Leaping everybound, the eager van led the way; and, with prodigious perseverance, dragging their war-machines in the rear, the rest pressed on, till theyreached the Carron side. At the moment the foaming steed of Wallace, smoking with the labors of a long and rapid march, was plunging intothe stream to take the form, Ker snatched the bridle of the horse: "Mylord, " cried he, "a man on full speed from Douglas Castle has broughtthis packet. "

In his march to Ayr, Wallace had left Sir Eustace Maxwell governor ofthat castle, and Monteith as his lieutenant. 

Wallace opened the packet and read as follows:

"The patriots in Annandale have been beaten by Lord de Warenne. SirJohn Monteith (who volunteered to head them) is taken prisoner, withtwelve hundred men. 

"Earl de Warenne comes to resume his arrogant title of Lord Warden ofScotland, and thereby to relieve his deputy, Aymer de Valence, who isrecalled to take possession of the lordship of Pembroke. In pursuanceof his usurping commission, the earl is now marching rapidly toward theLothians, in the hope of intercepting you in your progress. 

"Thanks to the constant information you send us of your movements, forbeing able to surprise you of this danger! I should have attempted tohave checked the Southron, by annoying his flanks, had not his numbersrendered such an enterprise on my part hopeless. But his aim being tocome up with you, if you meet him in the van, we shall have him in therear; and, so surrounded, he must be cut to pieces. Surely the treeyou planted in Dumbarton, is not now to be blasted!

"Ever your general's and Scotland's true servant, "Eustace Maxwell. "

"What answer?" inquired Ker. 

Wallace hastily engraved with his dagger's point upon his gauntlet, "Reviresco!** Our sun is above!" and desiring it to be given to themessenger to carry to Sir Eustace Maxwell, he refixed himself in hissaddle, and spurred over the Carron. 

**Reviresco! means "I bud again!" This encouraging word is now thereuto of the Maxwell arms. 

The moon was near her meridian as the wearied troops halted on the deepshadows of the Carse of Stirling. All around them was desolation; thesword and the fire had been there, not in open declared warfare, butunder the darkness of midnight, and impelled by rapacity andwantonness; hence from the base of the rock, even to the foot of theClackmannan Hills, all lay a smoking wilderness. 

An hour's rest was sufficient to restore every exhausted power to thelimbs of the determined followers of Wallace; and, as the morningdawned, the sentinels on the ramparts of the town were not onlysurprised to see a host below, but that (by the most indefatigablelabor, and a silence like death) had not merely passed the ditch, buthaving gained the counterscarp, had fixed their movable towers, andwere at that instant overlooking the highest bastions. The mangonelsand petraries, and other implements for battering walls, and theballista, with every efficient means of throwing missive weapons, wereready to discharge their artillery upon the heads of the beseiged. 

At a sight so unexpected, which seemed to have arisen out of the earthlike an exhalation (with such muteness and expedition had the Scottishoperations been carried on), the Southrons, struck with dread, fled amoment from the walls; but immediately recovering their presence ofmind, they returned, and discharged a cloud of arrows upon theirassailants. A messenger, meanwhile, was sent into the citadel toapprise De Valence and the Governor Cressingham of the assault. Theinterior gates now sent forth thousands to the walls; but in proportionto the numbers which approached, the greater was the harvest of deathprepared for the terrible arm of Wallace, whose tremendous war wolvesthrowing prodigious stones, and lighter springalls, casting forthbrazen darts, swept away file after file of the reinforcements. Itgrieved the noble heart of the Scottish commander to see so manyvaliant men urged to inevitable destruction; but still they advanced, and that his own might be preserved they must fall. To shorten thebloody contest, his direful weapons were worked with redoubled energy;and so mortal a shower fell that the heavens seemed to rain iron. Thecrushed and stricken enemy, shrinking under the mighty tempest, forsooktheir ground. 

The ramparts deserted, Wallace sprung from his tower upon the walls. At that moment De Valence opened one of the gates; and, at the head ofa formidable body, charged the nearest Scots. A good soldier is nevertaken unawares, and Murray and Graham were prepared to receive him. Furiously driving him to a retrograde motion, they forced him back intothe town. But there all was confusion. Wallace, with his resolutefollowers, had already put Cressingham and his legions to flight; and, closely pursued by Kirkpatrick, they threw themselves into the castle. Meanwhile, the victorious Wallace surrounded the amazed De Valence, who, caught in double toils, called to his men to fight for their king, and neither give nor take quarter. 

The brave fellows too strictly obeyed; and while they fell on allsides, he supported them with a courage which horror of Wallace'svengeance for his grandfather's death, and the attempt on his own lifein the hall at Dumbarton, rendered desperate. At last he encounteredthe conquering chief, arm to arm. Great was the dismay of De Valenceat this meeting; but as death was now all he saw before him, heresolved, if he must die, that the soul of his enemy should attend himto the other world. 

He fought, not with the steady valor of a warrior determined tovanquish or die; but with the fury of despair, with the violence of ahyena, thirsting for the blood of his opponent. Drunk with rage, hemade a desperate plunge at the heart of Wallace-a plunge, armed withexecrations, and all his strength; but his sword missed its aim, andentered the side of a youth, who at that moment had thrown himselfbefore his general. Wallace saw where the deadly blow fell; andinstantly closing on the earl-with a vengeance in his eyes, whichreminded his now determined victim of the horrid vision he had seen inthe burning Barns of Ayr-with one grasp of his arm, the incensed chiefhurled him to the ground; and setting his foot upon his breast, wouldhave buried his dagger there, had not De Valence dropped his upliftedsword, and with horror in every feature, raised his clasped hands inspeechless supplication. 

Wallace suspended the blow; and De Valence exclaimed: "My life! thisonce again, gallant Wallace! by your hopes of heaven, grant me mercy!"

Wallace looked on the trembling recreant with a glare, which, had hepossessed the soul of a man, would have made him grasp at death, ratherthan deserve a second. "And hast thou escaped me again?" criedWallace. Then turning his indignant eyes from the abject earl to hisbleeding friend-"I yield him his life, Edwin, and you, perhaps, areslain?"

"Forget not our own bright principle to avenge me, " said Edwin, asbrightly smiling; "he has only wounded me. But you are safe, and Ihardly feel a smart. "

Wallace replaced his dagger in his girdle. "Rise, Lord de Valence; itis my honor, not my will, that grants your life. You threw away yourarms! I cannot strike even a murderer who bares his breast. I giveyou that mercy you denied to nineteen unoffending, defenseless old men, whose hoary heads your ruthless ax brought with blood to the ground. Let memory be the sword I have withheld!"

While he spoke, De Valence had risen, and stood, conscience-stricken, before the majestic mien of Wallace. There was something in thisdenunciation that sounded like the irreversible decree of a divinity;and the condemned wretch quaked beneath the threat, while he panted forrevenge. 

The whole of the survivors in De Valence's train having surrenderedthemselves when their leader fell, in a few minutes Wallace wassurrounded by his chieftains, bringing in the colors, and the swords oftheir prisoners. 

"Sir Alexander Ramsay, " said he, to a brave and courteous knight, whowith his kinsman, William Blair, had joined him in the Lothians; "Iconfide Earl de Valence, to your care. See that he is stronglyguarded; and has every respect according to the honor of him to whom Icommit this charge. "

The town was now in possession of the Scots; and Wallace, having sentoff the rest of his prisoners to safe quarters, reiterated hispersuasions to Edwin, to have the ground, and submit his wounds to thesurgeon. "No, no" replied he; "the same hand that gave me this, inflicted a worse on my general at Dumbarton: he kept the field then;and shall I retire now, and disgrace my example? No, my brother; youwould not have me so disprove my kindred!"

"Do as you will, " answered Wallace, with a grateful smile; "so that youpreserve a life that must never again be risked to save mine. While itis necessary for me to live, my Almighty Captain will shield me; butwhen his word goes forth, that I shall be recalled, it will not be inthe power of friendship, nor of hosts, to turn the steel from mybreast. Therefore, dearest Edwin, thrown not yourself away, indefending what is in the hands of Heaven-to be lent, or to be withdrawnat will. "

Edwin bowed his modest head; and having suffered a balsam to be pouredinto his wound, braced his brigandine over his breast; and was again atthe side of his friend, just as he had joined Kirkpatrick before thecitadel. The gates were firmly closed, and the dismayed Cressinghamwas panting behind its walls, as Wallace commanded the parley to besounded. Afraid of trusting himself within arrow-shot of an enemy whohe believed conquered by witchcraft, the terrified governor sent hislieutenant up on the walls to answer the summons. 

The herald of the Scots demanded the immediate surrender of the place. Cressingham was at that instant informed by a messenger, who hadarrived too late the preceding night to be allowed to disturb hisslumbers, that De Warenne was approaching with an immense army. Inflated with new confidence, he mounted the wall himself, and inhaughty language, returned for answer, "That he would fall under thetowers of the citadel before he would surrender to a Scottish rebel. And as an example of the fate which such a delinquent merits, "continued he, "I will change the milder sentence passed on Lord Mar, and immediately hang him, and all his family, on these ramparts, insight of your insurgent army. "

"Then, " cried the herald, "thus says Sir William Wallace-if even onehair on the heads of the Earl of Mar and his family falls with violenceto the ground, every Southron soul who has this day surrendered to theScottish arms shall lose his head by the ax. "

"We are used to the blood of traitors, " cried Cressingham, "and mindnot its scent. But the army of Earl de Warenne is at hand; and it isat the peril of all your necks, for the rebel, your master, to put histhreat in execution. Withdraw, or you shall see the dead bodies ofDonald Mar and his family fringing these battlements; for no terms dowe keep with man, woman, or child, who is linked with treason!"

At these words, an arrow, winged from a hand behind Cressingham, flewdirectly to the unvisored face of Wallace, but it struck too high, andringing against his helmet fell to the ground. 

"Treachery!" resounded from every Scottish lip; while indignant at sovillainous a rupture of the parley, every bow was drawn to the head;and a flight of arrows, armed with retribution, flew toward thebattlements. All hands were now at work, to bring the towers to thewall; and mounting on them, while the archers by their rapid showersdrove the men from the ramparts, soldiers below, with pickaxes, duginto the wall to make a breach. 

Cressingham began to fear that his boasted auxiliaries might arrive toolate; but, determining to gain time at least, he shot flights of darts, and large stones, from a thousand engines; also discharged burningcombustibles over the ramparts, in hopes of setting fire to the enemy'sattacking machines. 

But all his promptitude proved of no effect. The walls were giving wayin parts, and Wallace was mounting by scaling-ladders, and clasping theparapets with bridges from his towers. Driven to extremity, Cressingham resolved to try the attachment of the Scots for Lord Mar;and even at the moment when their chief had seized the barbican andouter ballium, this sanguinary politician ordered the imprisoned earlto be brought out upon the wall of the inner ballia. A rope was roundhis neck, which was instantly run through a groove, that projected fromthe nearest tower. 

At this sight, horror froze the ardent blood of Wallace. But theintrepid earl, descrying his friend on the ladder which might sooncarry him to the summit of the battlement, exclaimed, "Forward! Letnot my span of life stand between my country and this glorious day forScotland's freedom!"

"Execute the sentence!" cried the infuriate Cressingham. 

At these words, Murray and Edwin precipitated themselves upon theramparts, and mowed down all before them, in a direction toward theiruncle. The lieutenant who held the cord, aware of the impolicy of thecruel mandate, hesitated to fulfill it; and now, fearing a rescue fromthe impetuous Scots, hurried his victim off the works, back to hisprison. Meanwhile, Cressingham perceiving that all would be lostshould he suffer the enemy to gain this wall also, sent such numbersupon the brave Scots who had followed the cousins, that, overcomingsome, and repelling others, they threw Murray, with a sudden shock, over the ramparts. Edwin was surrounded; and his successfuladversaries were bearing him off, struggling and bleeding, whenWallace, springing like a lioness on hunters carrying away her young, rushed in singly amongst them. He seized Edwin; and while his falchionflashed terrible threatenings in their eyes, with a backward step hefought his passage to one of the wooden towers he had fastened to thewall. 

Cressingham, being wounded in the head, commanded a parley to besounded. 

"We have already taken Lord de Valence and his host prisoners, "returned Wallace; "and we grant you no cessation of hostilities tillyou deliver up the Earl of Mar and his family, and surrender the castleinto our hands. "

"Think not, proud boaster!" cried the herald of Cressingham, "that weask a parley to conciliate. It was to tell you that if you do not drawoff directly, not only the Earl of Mar and his family, but everyScottish prisoner within these walls, shall perish in your sight. "

While he yet spoke, the Southrons uttered a great shout, and the Scotslooking up, beheld several high poles erected on the roof of the keep, and the Earl of Mar, as before, was led forward. But he seemed nolonger the bold and tranquil patriot. He was surrounded by shriekingfemale forms, clinging to his knees; and his trembling hands werelifted to heaven, as if imploring its pity. 

"Stop!" cried Wallace, in a voice whose thundering mandate rung fromtower to tower. "The instant he dies, Lord Aymer de Valence shallperish!"

He had only to make the sign, and in a few minutes that noblemanappeared between Ramsay and Kirkpatrick. "Earl, " exclaimed Wallace, "though I granted your life in the field with reluctance, yet here I amashamed to put it in danger. But your own people compel me. Look atthat spectacle. A venerable father, in the midst of his family; he andthey doomed to an ignominious and instant death, unless I betray mycountry and abandon these walls. Were I weak enough to purchase theirlives at such an expense, they could not survive that disgrace. Butthat they shall not die, while I have the power to preserve them, is myresolve and my duty! Life, then, for life; yours for this family!"

Wallace, directing his voice toward the keep:

"The moment, " cried he, "in which that vile cord presses too closely onthe neck of the Earl of Mar, or any of his blood, the ax shall severthe head of Lord de Valence from his body!"

De Valence was now seen on the top of one of the besieging towers. Hewas pale as death. He trembled, but not with dismay only; ten thousandvarying emotions tore his breast. To be thus set up as a monument ofhis own defeat, to be threatened with execution by an enemy he hadcontemned, to be exposed to such indignities by the unthinking ferocityof his colleague, filled him with such contending passions of revengeagainst friends and foes, that he forgot the present fear of death inturbulent wishes to deprive of life all by whom he suffered. 

Cressingham became alarmed on seeing the retaliating menace of Wallacebrought so directly before his view; and, dreading the vengeance of DeValence's powerful family, he ordered a herald to say that if Wallacewould draw off his troops to the outer ballium, and the English chiefalong with them, the Lord Mar and his family should be taken from theirperilous situation, and he would consider on terms of surrender. 

Aware that Cressingham only wanted to gain time until De Warenne shouldarrive, Wallace determined to foil him with his own weapons, and makethe gaining of the castle the consequence of vanquishing the earl. Hetold the now perplexed governor that he should consider Lord de Valenceas the hostage of safety for Lord Mar and his family, and therefore heconsented to withdraw his men from the inner ballium till the settingof the sun, at which hour he should expect a herald with the surrenderof the fortress. 

Thinking that he had caught the Scottish chief in a snare, and that thelord warden's army would be upon him long before the expiration of thearmistice, Cressingham congratulated himself upon this maneuver; andresolving that the moment Earl de Warenne should appear, Lord Marshould be secretly destroyed in the dungeons, he ordered them to theirsecurity again. 

Wallace fully comprehended what were his enemy's views, and what oughtto be his own measures, as soon as he saw the unhappy group disappearfrom the battlements of the keep. He then recalled his men from theinner ballium wall, and stationing several detachments along theramparts, and in the towers of the outer wall, committed De Valence tothe stronghold of the barbican, under the especial charge of LordRuthven, who was, indeed, eager to hold the means in his own hand thatwere to check the threatened danger of relatives so dear to him as werethe prisoners in the castle. 

Chapter XXXIII. 

Cambus-Kenneth. 

Having secured the advantages he had gained in the town and on theworks of the castle, by manning all the strong places, Wallace setforward with his chosen troops to intercept De Warenne. 

He took his position on a commanding ground about half a mile fromStirling, near to the Abbey of Cambus-Kenneth. The Forth lay beforehim, crossed by a wooden bridge, over which the enemy must pass toreach him, the river not being fordable in that part. 

He ordered the timbers which supported the bridge to be sawed at thebottom, but not displaced in the least, that they might stand perfectlyfirm for as long as he should deem it necessary. To these timbers werefastened strong cords, all of which he intrusted to the sturdiest ofhis Lanark men, who were to lie concealed amongst the flags. Thesepreparations being made, he drew up his troops in order of battle. Kirkpatrick and Murray commanded the flanks. In the center stoodWallace himself, with Ramsay on one side of him, and Edwin, withScrymgeour on the other, awaiting with steady expectation the approachof the enemy, who, by this time, could not be far distant. 

Cressingham was not less well-informed of the advance of De Warenne;and burning with revenge against Wallace, and earnest to redeem thefavor of De Valence by some act in his behalf, he first gave secretorders to his lieutenant, then set forth alone to seek an avenue ofescape, never divulged to any but to the commanders of the fortress. He soon discovered it; and by the light of a torch, making his waythrough a passage bored in the rock, emerged at its western base, screened from sight by the surrounding bushes. He had disguisedhimself in a shepherd's bonnet and plaid, in case of being observed bythe enemy; but fortune, favored him, and unseen he crept along throughthe thickets, till he descried the advance of De Warenne's army on theskirts of Tor Wood. 

Having missed Wallace in West Lothian, De Warenne divided his army intothree divisions, to enter Stirlingshire by different routes; and so hehoped, certainly, to intercept him in one of them. The Earl ofMontgomery led the first, of twenty thousand men; the Barons Hilton andBlenkinsopp, the second, of ten thousand; and De Warenne himself thethird, of thirty thousand. 

It was the first of these divisions that Cressingham encountered in TorWood; and revealing himself to Montgomery, he recounted how rapidlyWallace had gained the town, and in what jeopardy the citadel would be, if he were not instantly attacked. The earl advised waiting for ajunction with Hilton or the lord warden, "which, " said he, "must happenin the course of a few hours. "

"In the course of a few hours, " returned Cressingham, "you will have noStirling Castle to defend. The enemy will seize it at sunset, inpursuance of the very agreement by which I warded him off, to give ustime to annihilate him before that hour. Therefore no hesitation, ifwe would not see him lock the gates of the north of Scotland upon us, even when we have the power to hurl him to perdition. "

By arguments such as these the young earl was induced to give up hisjudgment; and, accompanied by Cressingham, whose courage revived amidsuch a host, he proceeded to the southern bank of the Forth. 

The bands of Wallace were drawn up on the opposite shore, hardly fivethousand strong, but so disposed the enemy could not calculate theirnumbers, though the narrowness of their front suggested to Cressinghamthat they could not be numerous; and he recollected that many must havebeen left to occupy the outworks of the town and the citadel. "It willbe easy to surround the rebel, " cried he; "and that we may effect ourenterprise before the arrival of the warden robs us of the honor, letus about it directly, and cross the bridge. "

Montgomery proposed a herald being sent to inform Wallace that, besidesthe long line of troops he saw, De Warenne was advancing with doublehosts, and if he would now surrender, a pardon should be granted to himand his, in the king's name, for all their late rebellions. Cressingham was vehement against this measure, but Montgomery beingresolute, the messenger was dispatched. 

In a few minutes he returned, and repeated to the Southron commandersthe words of Wallace: "Go, " said he, "tell your masters we came nothere to treat for a pardon of what we shall never allow to be anoffense; we came to assert our rights-to set Scotland free. Till thatis effected, all negotiation is vain. Let them advance; they will findus prepared. "

"Then onward!" cried Montgomery; and, spurring his steed, he led theway to the bridge; his eager soldiers followed, and the whole of hiscenter ranks passed over. The flanks advanced, and the bridge, fromend to end, was filled with archers, cavalry, men-at-arms, andwar-carriages. Cressingham, in the midst, was hallooing in proudtriumph to those who occupied the rear of the straining beams, when theblast of a trumpet sounded from the till now silent and immovableScottish phalanx. It was re-echoed by shouts from behind the passingenemy, and in that moment the supporting piers of the bridge** werepulled away, and the whole of its mailed throng was precipitated intothe stream. 

**This historical fact relating to the bridge is yet exultantlyrepeated on the spot, and the number of the Southrons who fell beneaththe arms of so small a band of Scots, is not less the theme oftriumph. -(1809. )

The cries of the maimed and the drowning were joined by the terrificslogan of two bands of Scots. The one with Wallace toward the head ofthe river, while the other, under the command of Sir John Graham, rushed from its ambuscade on the opposite bank upon the rear of thedismayed troops; and both divisions sweeping all before them, drovethose who fought on land into the river, and those who had just escapedthe flood, to meet its waves again, a bleeding host. 

In the midst of this conflict, which rather seemed a carnage than abattle, Kirkpatrick, having heard the proud shouts of Cressingham onthe bridge, now sought him amidst its shattered timbers. With theferocity of a tiger hunting its prey, he ran from man to man, and asthe struggling wretches emerged from the water, he plucked them fromthe surge; but even while his glaring eye-balls and uplifted axthreatened destruction, he only looked on them; and with imprecationsof disapointment, rushed forward on his chase. Almost in despair thatthe waves had cheated his revenge, he was hurrying on in anotherdirection, when he perceived a body moving through a hollow on hisright. He turned, and saw the object of his search crawling amongstthe mud and sedges. 

"Ha!" cried Kirkpatrick, with a triumphant yell, "art thou yet mine?Damned, damned villain!" cried he, springing upon his breast: "Beholdthe man you dishonored!-behold the hot cheek your dastard hand defiled! Thy blood shall obliterate the stain; and then Kirkpatrick may againfront the proudest in Scotland!"

"For mercy!" cried the horror-struck Cressingham, struggling withpreternatural strength to extricate himself. 

"Hell would be my portion did I grant any to thee, " cried Kirkpatrick;and with one stroke of the ax he severed the head from its body. "I ama man again!" shouted he, as he held its bleeding veins in his hand, and placed it on the point of his sword. "Thou ruthless priest ofMoloch and of Mammon, thou shalt have thine own blood to drink, while Ishow my general how proudly I am avenged!" As he spoke, he dashedamongst the victorious ranks, and reached Wallace at the very moment hewas freeing himself from his fallen horse, which a random arrow hadshot under him. Murray, at the same instant, was bringing up thewounded Montgomery, who came to surrender his sword, and to beg quarterfor his men. The earl turned deadly pale; for the first object thatstruck his sight was the fierce knight of Torthorald, walking under thestream of blood which continued to flow from the ghastly head ofCressingham, as he held it exultingly in the air. 

"If that be your chief, " cried Montgomery, "I have mistaken him much-Icannot yield my sword to him. "

Murray understood him: "If cruelty be an evil spirit, " returned he, "ithas fled every breast in this army to shelter with Sir RogerKirkpatrick; and its name is Legion! That is my chief!" added he, pointing to Wallace, with an evident consciousness of deriving honorfrom his command. The chief rose from the ground dyed in the sameensanguined hue which had excited the abhorrence of Montgomery, thoughit had been drawn from his own veins, and those of his horse. All, indeed, of blood about him seemed to be on his garment; none was in hiseyes, none in his heart but what warmed it to mercy and to benevolencefor all mankind. His eyes momentarily fell on the approaching figureof Kirkpatrick, who, waving the head in the air, blew from his buglethe triumphal notes of the Pryse, and then cried to his chief: "I haveslain the wolf of Scotland! My brave clansmen are now casing my targetwith his skin, ** which, when I strike its bossy sides, will cry aloud. So, perishes thy dishonor! So perish all the enemies of Scotland!"

**It is recorded that the memory of Cressingham was so odious to theScots, they did indeed flay his dead body, and made saddles and girthsand other things of his skin. -(1809. )

"And with the extinction of that breath, Kirkpatrick, " cried Wallace, looking serenely from the head to him, "let your fell revenge perishalso. For your own honor commit no indignities on the body you haveslain. "

"'Tis for you to conquer like a god!" cried Kirkpatrick; "I have feltas a man, and like a man I revenge. This head shall destroy in death;it shall vanquish its friends for me; for I will wear it like a Gorgonon my sword, to turn to stone every Southron who looks on it. " Whilespeaking, he disappeared amongst the thickening ranks; and as thevictorious Scots hailed him in passing, Montgomery, thinking of hisperishing men, suffered Murray to lead him to the scene of his humility. 

The ever-comprehensive eye of Wallace perceived him as he advanced; andguessing by his armor and dignified demeanor who he was, with a noblegrace he raised his helmed bonnet from his head when the earlapproached him. Montgomery looked on him; he felt his soul, even morethan his arms, subdued; but still there was something about a soldier'sheart that shrunk from yielding his power of resistance. The bloodmounted into his before pale cheeks; he held out his sword in silenceto the victor; for he could not bring his tongue to pronounce the word"surrender. "

Wallace understood the sign, and holding up his hand to a herald, thetrumpet of peace was raised. It sounded-and where, the moment before, were the horrid clashing of arms, the yell of savage conquest, anddireful cries for mercy, all was hushed as death. Not that death whichhad passed, but that which is approaching. None spoke, not a sound washeard, but the low groans of the dying, who lay, overwhelmed andperishing, beneath the bodies of the slain, and the feet of the living. 

The voice of Wallace rose from this awful pause. Its sound was everthe harbinger of glory, or of "good will to men. " "Soldiers!" criedhe, "God has given victory-let us show our gratitude by moderation andmercy. Gather the wounded into quarters and bury the dead. "

Wallace then turned to the extended sword of the earl; he put it gentlyback with his hand: "Ever wear what you honor, " said he; "but, gallantMontgomery, when you draw it next, let it be in a better cause. Learn, brave earl, to discriminate between a warrior's glory and his shame;between the defender of his country, and the unprovoked ravager ofother lands. "

Montgomery blushed scarlet at these words; but it was not withresentment. He looked down for a moment: "Ah!" thought he, "perhaps Iought never to have drawn it here!" Then raising his eyes to Wallace, he said: "Were you not the enemy of my king, who, though a conqueror, sanctions none of the cruelties that have been committed in his name, Iwould give you my hand, before the remnant of his brave troops, whoselives you grant. But you have my heart: a heart that knows nodifference between friend or foe, when the bonds of virtue would unitewhat only civil dissensions hold separate. "

"Had your king possessed the virtues you believe he does, " repliedWallace, "my sword might have now been a pruninghook. But that ispast! We are in arms for injuries received, and to drive out a tyrant. For believe me, noble Montgomery, that monarch has little pretensionsto virtue, who suffers the oppressors of his people, or of hisconquests, to go unpunished. To connive at cruelty, is to practice it. And has Edward ever frowned on one of those despots, who, in his name, have for these two years past laid Scotland in blood and ashes?"

The appeal was too strong for Montgomery to answer; he felt its truth, and bowed, with an expression in his face that told more than, as asubject of England, he dared declare. 

The late respectful silence was turned into the clamorous activity ofeager obedience. The prisoners were conducted to the rear of Stirling;while the major part of the Scots (leaving a detachment to unburden theearth of its bleeding load), returned in front to the gates, just as DeWarenne's division appeared on the horizon, like a moving cloud gildedby the now setting sun. At this sight Wallace sent Edwin into the townwith Lord Montgomery, and marshaling his line, prepared to bear downupon the approaching earl. 

But the lord warden had received information which fought better forthe Scots than a host of swords. When advanced a very little onward onthe Carse of Stirling, one of his scouts brought intelligence thathaving approached the south side of the Forth, he had seen that riverfloating with dead bodies; and soon after met Southron horns blowingthe notes of victory. From what he learned from the fugitives, he alsoinformed his lord, "that not only the town and citadel of Stirling werein the possession of Sir William Wallace, but the two detachments underMontgomery and Hilton had both been discomfited, and their leadersslain or taken. "

At this intelligence, Earl de Warenne stood aghast; and while he wasstill doubting that such disgrace to King Edward's arms could bepossible, two or three fugitives came up, and witnessed to its truth. One had seen Kirkpatrick, with the bloody head of the Governor ofStirling on his sword. Another had been near Cressingham in the wood, when he told Montgomery of the capture of De Valence; and concludingthat he meant the leader of the third division, he corroborated thescout's information of the two defeats, adding (for terror magnifiedthe objects of fear), that the Scots army was incalculable; but was sodisposed by Sir William Wallace, as to appear inconsiderable, that hemight ensnare his enemies, by filling them with hopes of an easyconquest. 

These accounts persuaded De Warenne to make a retreat; and intimidatedby the exaggerated representations of those who had fled, his men, withno little precipitation, turned to obey. 

Wallace perceived the retrograde motion of his enemy's lines; and whilea stream of arrows from his archers poured upon them like hail, he boredown upon the rear-guard with his cavalry and men-at-arms, and sentGraham round by the wood, to surprise the flanks. 

All was executed with promptitude; and the tremendous slogan soundingfrom side to side, the terrified Southrons, before in confusion, nowthrew away their arms, to lighten themselves for escape. Sensible thatit was not the number of the dead, but the terror of the living, whichgives the finishing stroke to conquest, De Warenne saw the effects ofthis panic, in the total disregard of his orders; and dreadful wouldhave been the carnage of his troops had he not sounded a parley. 

The bugle of Wallace instantly answered it. De Warenne sent forwardhis herald. He offered to lay down his arms, provided he might beexempted from relinquishing the royal standard, and that he and his menmight be permitted to return without delay to England. 

Wallace accepted the first article; granted the second; but with regardto the third, it must be on condition that he, the Lord de Warenne, andthe officers taken in his army, or in other engagements lately foughtin Scotland, should be immediately exchanged for the like number ofnoble Scots Wallace should name, who were prisoners in England; andthat the common men of the army, now about to surrender their arms, should take an oath never to serve again against Scotland. 

These preliminaries being agreed to (their very boldness arguing theconscious advantage which seemed to compel the assent), the lord wardenadvanced at the head of his thirty thousand troops; and first layingdown his sword, which Wallace immediately returned to him, the officersand soldiers marched by with their heads uncovered, throwing down theirweapons as they approached their conqueror. Wallace extended his linewhile the procession moved, for he had too much policy to show hisenemies that thirty thousand men had yielded, almost without a blow, toscarce five thousand. The oath was afterward administered to eachregiment by heralds, sent for that purpose into the strath of Monteith, whither Wallace had directed the captured legions to assemble andrefresh themselves, previous to their departure next morning forEngland. The privates thus disposed of, to release himself from thecommanders also, Wallace told De Warenne that duty called him away, butevery respect would be paid to them by the Scottish officers. 

He then gave directions to Sir Alexander Ramsay to escort De Warenneand the rest of the noble prisoners to Stirling. Wallace himselfturned with his veteran band to give a conqueror's greeting to theBaron of Hilton, and so ended the famous battles of Cambus-Kenneth andthe Carse of Stirling. 

Chapter XXXIV. 

Stirling Castle. 

The prisoners who had been taken with Montgomery were lodged behind thetown, and the wounded carried into the Abbey of Cambus-Kenneth; butwhen Edwin came to move that earl himself, he found him too faint withloss of blood to sit a horse to Snawdoun. He therefore ordered alitter; and so conveyed his brave prisoner to that palace of the kingsof Scotland in Stirling. 

The priests in Wallace's army not only exercised the Levitical but thegood Samaritan's functions, and they soon obeyed the young knight'ssummons to dress the wounds of Montgomery. 

Messengers, meanwhile, arrived from Wallace, acquainting his chieftainsin Stirling with the surrender of De Warenne's army. Hence no surprisewas created in the breast of the wounded earl when he saw his commanderenter the palace as the prisoner of the illustrious Scot. 

Montgomery held out his hand to the lord warden in silence, and with aflushed cheek. 

"Blush not, my noble friend!" cried De Warenne; "these wounds speakmore eloquently than a thousand tongues, the gallantry with which youmaintained the sword that fate compelled you to surrender. But I, without a scratch, how can I meet the unconquered Edward? And yet itwas not for myself I feared: my brave and confiding soldiers were inall my thoughts; for I saw it was not to meet an army I led them, butagainst a whirlwind, a storm of war, with which no strength that Icommanded could contend. "

While the English generals thus conversed, Edwin's impatient heartyearned to be again at the side of Wallace; and gladly resigning thecharge of his noble prisoner to Sir Alexander Ramsay, as soon as heobserved a cessation in the conversation of the two earls, he drew nearMontgomery to take his leave. 

"Farewell, till we meet again!" said the young earl, pressing his hand;"you have been a young brother rather than an enemy, to me. "

"Because, " returned Edwin, "I follow the example of my general, whowould willingly be the friend of all mankind. "

Warenne looked at him with surprise: "And who are you, who, in thatstripling form, utters gallant sentiments which might grace thematurest years?"

With a sweet dignity, Edwin replied, "I am Edwin Ruthven, the adoptedbrother of Sir William Wallace. "

"And the son of him, " asked De Warenne, "who, with Sir William Wallace, was the first to mount Dumbarton walls?"

At these words the cheeks of Edwin were suffused with a more animatedbloom. At the moment when his courage was distinguished on the heightsof Dumbarton, by the vowed friendship of Wallace, he had found himselfbeloved by the bravest and most amiable of beings; and in his light hefelt both warmth and brightness; but this question of De Warenne, conveyed to him that he had found fame himself; that he was therepublicly acknowledged to be an object not unworthy of being called thebrother of Sir William Wallace!-and, casting down his eyes, beamingwith exultation, from the fixed gaze of De Warenne, he answered, "I amthat happy Ruthven, who had the honor to mount Dumbarton Rock by theside of my general; and from his hand there received the stroke ofknighthood. "

De Warenne rose, much agitated: "If such be the boys of Scotland needwe wonder, when the spirit of resistance is roused in the nation, thatour strength should wither before its men?"

"At least, " said Montgomery, whose admiration of what passed seemed toreanimate his languid faculties, "it deprives defeat of its sting, whenwe are conscious we yielded to power that was irresistible. But, mylord, " added he, "if the courage of this youth amazes you, what willyou say ought to be the fate of this country? what to be the crown ofSir William Wallace's career, when you know the chain of brave heartsby which he is surrounded? Even tender woman loses the weakness of hersex when she belongs to him. " Earl de Warenne, surprised at the energywith which he spoke, looked at him with an expression that told him so. "Yes, " continued he, "I witnessed the heroism of Lady Wallace, whenshe defended the character of her husband in the midst of an armedhost, and preserved the secret of his retreat inviolate. I saw thatloveliest of women, whom the dastard Heselrigge slew. "

"Disgrace to knighthood!" cried Edwin, with indignant vehemence; "ifyou were a spectator of that bloody deed, retire from this house; go toCambus-Kenneth--anywhere; but leave this city before the injuredWallace arrives; blast not his eyes with a second sight of one whocould have beheld his wife murdered. "

Every eye was now fixed on the commanding figure of the young Edwin, who stood with the determination of being obeyed breathing in everylook. De Warenne then at once saw the possibility of so gentle acreature being transformed into the soul of enterprise, into thefearless and effective soldier. 

Lord Montgomery held out his hand to Edwin. "By this right arm, Iswear, noble youth, that had I been on the spot when Heselrigge, liftedhis sword against the breast of Lady Wallace, I would have sheathed mysword in his. It was before then that I saw that matchless woman; andoffended with my want of severity in the scrutiny I had made atEllerslie for its chief. Heselrigge sent me back to Ayr. Arnufquarreled with me there, on the same subject; and I immediately retiredin disgust to England. "

"Then how? you ought to be Sir Gilbert Hambledon?" replied Edwin; "butwhoever you are, as you were kind to the Lady Marion, I cannot butregret my late hasty charge; and for which I beseech your pardon. "

Montgomery took his hand, and pressed it. "Generous Ruthven, yourwarmth is too honorable to need forgiveness. I am that Sir GilbertHambledon; and had I remained so, I should not now be in Scotland. Butin my first interview with the Prince of Wales, after my accession tothe Earldom of Montgomery, his highness told me, it had been rumoredfrom Scotland that I was disloyal in my heart to my king. 'And toprove the falsehood of such calumniators, ' continued the prince, 'Iappoint you second in command there to the Earl de Warenne. ' To haverefused to fight against Sir William Wallace, would have been to haveaccused myself of treason. And while I respected the husband of themurdered Lady Marion, I yet condemned him as an insurgent; and with thesame spirit you follow him in the field, I obeyed the commands of mysovereign. "

"Lord Montgomery, " returned Edwin, "I am rejoiced to see one who provesto me what my general, wronged as he has been, yet alwaysinculcates-that all the Southrons are not base and cruel! When heknows who is indeed his prisoner, what recollections will it awaken!But till you and he again meet, I shall not intimate to him themelancholy satisfaction he is to enjoy, for, with the remembrances itwill arouse, your presence must bring the antidote. "

The brave youth then telling Ramsay in what parts of the palace therest of the lords were to be lodged, with recovered composure descendedto the courtyard, to take horse for Tor Wood. He was galloping along, under the bright light of the moon, when he heard a squadron on fullspeed approaching, and presently Murray appeared at its head. "Hurrah, Edwin!" cried he; "well met! We are come to demand the instantsurrender of the citadel. Hilton's division has surrendered!"

The two barons had indeed come up about half an hour after Earl deWarenne's division was discomfited. Sir William Wallace had sentforward to the advancing enemy two heralds, bearing the colors DeValence and Montgomery, with the captive banner of De Warenne, andrequiring the present division to lay down its army also. The sight ofthese standards was sufficient to assure Hilton there was no deceit inthe embassy. The nature of his position precluded retreat; and notseeing any reason for ten thousand men disputing the day with a powerto whom fifty thousand had just surrendered, he and his compeer, withthe reluctance of veterans, embraced the terms of surrender. 

The instant Hilton put his argent banner** into the victor's hand, Wallace knew that the castle must now be his; he had discomfited allwho could have maintained it against him. Impatient to apprise LordMar and his family of their safety, he dispatched Murray with aconsiderable escort to demand its surrender. 

**The arms of Hilton are, argent, two bars azure. The charge on thoseof Blenkinsopp are three wheat-sheaves; crest, a lion rampant, graspinga rose. The ruins of the patrimonial castles of these two ancientbarons are still to be seen in the north of England. The author'srevered mother was a descendant from the latter venerable name, unitedwith that of the brave and erudite race of Adamson, of further north. 

Murray gladly obeyed, and now, accompanied by Edwin, with the standardsof Cressingham and De Warenne trailing in the dust, he arrived beforethe castle, and summoned the lieutenant to the walls. But thatofficer, well aware of what was going to happen, feared to appear. From the battlements of the keep he had seen the dreadful conflict onthe banks of the Forth-he had seen the thousands of De Warenne passbefore the conqueror. To punish his treachery, in not only havingsuffered Cressingham to steal out under the armistice, but upholdingalso the breaking of his word to surrender at sunset, the terrifiedofficer believed that Wallace was now come to put the whole garrison tothe sword. 

At the first sight of Murray's approaching squadron, the lieutenanthurried to Lord Mar, to offer him immediate liberty if he would goforth to Wallace and treat with him to spare the lives of the garrison. Closed up in a solitary dungeon, the earl knew naught of what wasoccurring without; and when the Southron entered, he expected it was tolead him again to the death which had been twice averted. But the paleand trembling lieutenant had no sooner spoken the first word than Mardiscerned it was a suppliant, not an executioner, he saw before him, and he was even promising that clemency from Wallace, which he knewdwelt in his heart, when Murray's trumpet sounded. 

The lieutenant started, horror-struck. "It is now too late! We havenot made the first overture, and there sounds the death-bell of thisgarrison! I saved your life, earl!" cried he, imploringly, to LordMar; "when the enraged Cressingham commanded me to pull the cord whichwould have launched you into eternity. I disobeyed him! For my sake, then, preserve this garrison, and accompany me to the ramparts. "

The chains were immediately knocked off the limbs of Lord Mar, and thelieutenant presenting him with a sword, they appeared together on thebattlements. As the declining moon shone on their backs, Murray didnot discern that it was his uncle who mounted the walls; but calling tohim in a voice which declared there was no appeal, pointed to thehumbled colors of Edward, and demanded the instant surrender of thecitadel. 

"Let it be, then with the pledge of Sir William Wallace's mercy?" criedthe venerable earl. 

"With every pledge, Lord Mar, " returned Murray, now joyfullyrecognizing his uncle, "which you think safe to give. "

"Then the keys of the citadel are yours, " cried the lieutenant; "I onlyask the lives of my garrison. "

This was granted, and immediately preparations were made for theadmission of the Scots. As the enraptured Edwin heard the heavy chainsof the portcullis drawn up, and the massy bolts of the huge doorsgrating in their guards, he thought of his mother's liberty, of hisfather's joy, in pressing her again in his arms; and hastening to thetower where Lord Ruthven held watch over the now sleeping De Valance, he told him all that had happened. "Go, my father, " added he; "enterwith Murray, and be the first to open the prison doors of my mother. "

Lord Ruthven embraced his son. "My dear Edwin! this sacrifice to myfeelings is worthy of you. But I have a duty to perform, superior evento the tenderest private ones. I am planted hereby my commander; andshall I quit my station, for any gratification, till he gives me leave? No, my son! Be you my representative to your mother; and while myexample teaches you, above all earthly considerations, to obey yourhonor, those tender embraces will show her what I sacrifice to duty. "

Edwin no longer urged his father, and leaving his apartment, flew tothe gate of the inner ballium. It was open; and Murray already stoodon the platform before the keep, receiving the keys to the garrison. 

"Blessed sight!" cried the earl, to his nephew. "When I put the bannerof Mar into your unpracticed hand, little could I expect that, in thecourse of four months, I should see my brave Andrew receive the keys ofproud Stirling from its commander!"

Murray smiled, while his plumed head bowed gratefully to his uncle, andturning to the lieutenant, "Now, " said he, "lead me to the Ladies Marand Ruthven that I may assure them they are free. "

The gates of the keep were now unclosed, and the lieutenant conductedhis victors along a gloomy passage, to a low door, studded with knobsof iron. As he drew the bolt, he whispered to Lord Mar, "Theseseverities are the hard policy of Governor Cressingham. "

He pushed the door slowly open, and discovered a small, miserablecell-its walls, of rugged stone, having no other covering than theincrustations which time, and many a dripping winter, had strewn overtheir vaulted service. On the ground, on a pallet of straw, lay afemale figure in a profound sleep. But the light which the lieutenantheld, streaming full upon the uncurtained slumberer, she started, and, with a shriek of terror at the sight of so many armed men, discoveredthe pallid features of the Countess of Mar. With an anguish whichhardly the freedom he was going to bestow could ameliorate, the earlrushed forward, and, throwing himself beside her, caught her in hisarms. 

"Are we, then, to die?" cried she, in a voice of horror. "Has Wallaceabandoned us? Are we to perish? Heartless-heartless man!"

Overcome by his emotions, the earl could only strain her to his breastin speechless agitation. Edwin saw a picture of his mother'ssufferings, in the present distraction of the countess; and he felt hispowers of utterance locked up; but Lord Andrew, whose ever-light heartwas gay the moment he was no longer unhappy, jocosely answered, "Myfair aunt, there are many hearts to die by your eyes before that day!and, meanwhile, I come from Sir William Wallace-to set you free!"

The name of Wallace, and the intimation that he had sent to set herfree, drove every former thought of death and misery from her mind;again the ambrosial gales of love seemed to breathe around her-she sawnot her prison walls; she felt herself again in his presence; and in ablissful trance, rather endured than participated in the warmcongratulations of her husband on their mutual safety. 

Edwin and Murray turned to follow the lieutenant, who, preceding them, stopped at the end of the gallery. "Here, " said he, "is Lady Ruthven'shabitation; and-alas! not better than the countess'. " While he spoke, he threw open the door, and discovered its sad inmate also asleep. Butwhen the glad voice of her son pierced her ear-when his fond embracesclung to her bosom, her surprise and emotions were almostinsupportable. Hardly crediting her senses, that he whom she hadbelieved was safe in the cloisters of St. Colomba, could be within thedangerous walls of Stirling; that it was his mailed breast that pressedagainst her bosom; that it was his voice she heard exclaiming, "Mother, we come to give you freedom!" all appeared to her like a dream ofmadness. 

She listened, she felt him, she found her cheek wet with his rapturoustears. "Am I in my right mind?" cried she, looking at him with afearful, yet overjoyed countenance; "am I not mad? Oh! tell me, " criedshe, turning to Murray, and the lieutenant, "is this my son that I see, or has terror turned my brain?"

"It is indeed your son, your Edwin, my very self, " returned he, alarmedat the expression of her voice and countenance. Murray gentlyadvanced, and kneeling down by her, respectfully took her hand. "Hespeaks truth, my dear madam. It is your son Edwin. He left hisconvent, to be a volunteer with Sir William Wallace. He has coveredhimself with honor on the walls of Dumbarton; and here also a sharer inhis leader's victories, he is come to set you free. "

At this explanation, which, being given in the sober language ofreason, Lady Ruthven believed, she gave way to the full happiness ofher soul, and falling on the neck of her son, embraced him with a floodof tears: "And thy father, Edwin, where is he? Did not the nobleWallace rescue him from Ayr?"

"He did, and he is here. " Edwin then repeated to his mother theaffectionate message of his father, and the particulars of his release. Perceiving how happily they were engaged, Murray, now with a flutterin his own bosom, rose from his knees, and requested the lieutenant toconduct him to Lady Helen Mar. 

His guide led the way by a winding staircase into a stone gallery, where letting Lord Andrew into a spacious apartment, divided in themidst by a vast screen of carved cedar-wood, he pointed to a curtainedentrance. "In that chamber, " said he, "lodges the Lady Helen. "

"Ah, my poor cousin, " exclaimed Murray; "though she seems not to havetasted the hardships of her parents, she has shared their misery, I donot doubt. " While he spoke, the lieutenant bowed in silence, andMurray entered alone. The chamber was magnificent, and illumined by alamp which hung from the ceiling. He cautiously approached the bed, fearing too hastily to disturb her, and gently pulling aside thecurtains, beheld vacancy. An exclamation of alarm had almost escapedhim, when observing a half-open door at the other side of theapartment, he drew toward it, and there beheld his cousin, with herback to him, kneeling before a crucifix. She spoke not, but the fervorof her action manifested how earnestly she prayed. He moved behindher, but she heard him not; her whole soul was absorbed in the successof her petition; and at last raising her clasped hands in a paroxysm ofemotion, she exclaimed, -"If that trumpet sounded the victory of theScots, then, Power of Goodness! receive thy servant's thanks. But ifDe Warenne have conquered, where De Valence has failed; if all whom Ilove be lost to me here, take me then to thyself, and let my freedspirit fly to their embraces in heaven!"

"Ay, and on earth too, thou blessed angel!" cried Murray, throwinghimself toward her. She started from her knees, and with such a cry asthe widow of Sarepta uttered when she embraced her son from the dead, Helen threw herself on the bosom of her cousin, and closed her eyes ina blissful swoon-for even while every outward sense seemed fled, theimpression of joy played about her heart; and the animated throbbingsof Murray's breast, while he pressed her in his arms, at last arousedher to recollection. Her glistening and uplifted eyes told all thehappiness, all the gratitude of her soul. 

"My father? All are safe?" demanded she. 

"All, my best beloved!" answered Murray, forgetting in his powerfulemotions of his heart, that what he felt, and what he uttered, werebeyond even a cousin's limits: "My uncle, the countess, Lord and LadyRuthven-all are safe. "

"And Sir William Wallace?" cried she; "you do not mention him. I hopeno ill-"

"He is conqueror here!" interrupted Murray. "He has subdued everyobstacle between Berwick and Stirling; and he has sent me hither to setyou and the rest of the dear prisoners free. "

Helen's heart throbbed with a new tumult as he spoke. She longed toask whether the unknown knight from whom she had parted in the hermit'scell, had ever joined Sir William Wallace. She yearned to know that heyet lived. At the thought of the probability of his having fallen insome of these desperate conflicts, her soul seemed to gasp forexistence; and dropping her head on her cousin's shoulder, "Tell me, Andrew, " said she, and there she paused, with an emotion for which shecould not account to herself. 

"Of what would my sweet cousin inquire?" asked Murray, partaking heragitation. 

"Nothing particular, " said she, covered with blushes; "but did youfight alone in these battles? Did no other knight but Sir WilliamWallace?"

"Many, dearest Helen, " returned Murray, enraptured at a solicitudewhich he appropriated to himself. "Many knights joined our arms. Allfought in a manner worthy of their leader, and thanks to Heaven, nonehave fallen. "

"Thanks, indeed, " cried Helen; and with a hope she dared hardly whisperto herself, of seeing the unknown knight in the gallant train of theconqueror, she falteringly said, "Now, Andrew, lead me to my father. "

Murray would perhaps have required a second bidding, had not Lord Mar, impatient to see his daughter, appeared with the countess at the doorof the apartment. Hastening toward them, she fell on the bosom of herfather; and while she bathed his face and hands with her glad tears, he, too, wept, and mingled blessings with his caresses. No coldnesshere met his paternal heart: no distracting confusions tore her fromhis arms; no averted looks, by turns, alarmed and chilled the bosom oftenderness. All was innocence and duty in Helen's breast; and everyingenuous action showed its affection and its joy. The estranged heartof Lady Mar had closed against him; and though he suspected not itswanderings, he felt the unutterable difference between the warmtransports of his daughter and the frigid gratulations forced from thelips of his wife. 

Lady Mar gazed with a weird frown on the lovely form of Helen, as shewound her exquisitely turned arms round the earl in filial tenderness. Her bosom, heaving in the snowy whiteness of virgin purity; her face, radiant with the softest blooms of youth; all seemed to frame an objectwhich malignant fiends had conjured up to blast her stepdame's hope. "Wallace will behold these charms!" cried her distracted spirit toherself, "and then, where am I?"

While her thoughts thus followed each other, she unconsciously dartedlooks on Helen, which, if an evil eye had any bewitching power, wouldhave withered all her beauties. At one of these portentous moments, the glad eyes of Helen met her glance. She started with horror. Itmade her remember how she had been betrayed, and all that she hadsuffered from Soulis. But she could not forget that she had also beenrescued; and with that blessed recollection, the image of her preserverrose before her. At this gentle idea, her alarmed countenance took asofter expression; and, tenderly sighing, she turned to her father'squestion of "How she came to be with Lady Ruthven, when he had beentaught by Lord Andrew to believe her safe at St. Fillan's?"

"Yes, " cried Murray, throwing herself on a seat beside her, "I found inyour letter to Sir William Wallace, that you had been betrayed fromyour asylum by some traitor Scot; and but for the fullness of my joy atour present meeting, I should have inquired the name of the villian!"

Lady Mar felt a deadly sickness at her heart, on hearing that SirWilliam Wallace was already so far acquainted with her daughter as tohave received a letter from her; and in amazed despair, she prepared tolisten to what she expected would bring a death-stroke to her hopes. They had met-but how?-where? They wrote to each other. Then, farindeed had proceeded that communication of hearts, which was now theaim of her life-and she was undone! Helen glanced at the face of Ladymar, and observing its changes, regarded them as corroborations of herhaving been the betrayer. "If conscience disturbs you thus, " thoughtHelen, "let it rend your heart, and perhaps remorse may follow!"

As the tide of success seemed so full for the patriot Scots, Helen nolonger feared that her cousin would rashly seek a precarious vengeanceon the traitor Soulis, when he might probably soon have an opportunityof making it certain at the head of an army. She therefore commencedher narrative from the time of Murray's leaving her at the priory, andcontinued it to the hour in which she had met her father, a prisoner inthe streets of Stirling. As she proceeded, the indignation of the earland of Murray against Soulis became vehement. The nephew was full ofimmediate personal revenge. But the father, with arguments similar tothose which had suggested themselves to his daughter, calmed thelover's rage, for Murray now felt that fire as well as a kinsman's; andreseated himself with repressed, though burning resentment, to listento the remainder of her relation. 

The quaking conscience of Lady mar did indeed vary her cheeks with athousand dyes, when, as Helen repeated part of her conversation withMacgregor's wife, Murray abruptly said, "Surely that woman could namethe traitor who betrayed us into the hands of our enemies! Did she nothint it?"

Helen cast down her eyes, that even a glance might not overwhelm withinsupportable shame the already trembling countess. Lady Mar saw thatshe was acquainted with her guilt, and expecting no more mercy than sheknew she would show to Helen in the like circumstances, she hastilyrose from her chair, internally vowing vengeance against her triumphantdaughter and hatred of all mankind. But Helen thought she might haveso erred, from a wife's alarm for the safety of the husband sheprofessed to doat on; and this dutiful daughter determined never toaccuse her. 

While all the furies raged in the breast of the guilty woman, Helensimply answered, "Lord Soulis would be weak as he is vile, to trust asecret of that kind with a servant;" then hurried on to the relation ofsubsequent events. The countess breathed again; and almost deceivingherself with the idea that Helen was indeed ignorant of her treachery, listened with emotions of another kind, when she heard of the rescue ofher daughter-in-law. She saw Wallace in that brave act! But as Helen, undesignedly to herself, passed over the parts in their conversationwhich had most interested her, and never named the graces of hisperson, Lady mar thought, that to have viewed Wallace with so littlenotice would have been impossible; and therefore was glad of such adouble conviction, that he and her daughter had never met, which seemedverified when Helen said that the unknown chief had promised to joinhis arms with those of Wallace. 

Murray had observed Helen while she spoke, with an impression at hisheart that made it pause. Something in this interview had whispered tohim what he had never dreamed before-that she was dearer to him thanfifty thousand cousins. And while the blood flushed and retreated inthe complexion of Helen, and her downcast eyes refused to show what waspassing there, while she hastily ran over the circumstances of heracquaintance with the stranger knight, Murray's own emotions declaredthe secret of hers; and with a lip as pale as her own, he said, "Butwhere is this brave man? He cannot have yet joined us, for surely hewould have told Wallace or myself that he came from you?"

"I warned him not to do so, " replied she, "for fear that yourindignation against my enemies, my dear cousin, might have precipitatedyou into dangers to be incurred for our country only. "

"Then, if he had joined us, " replied Murray, rising from his seat, "youwill probably soon known who he is. To-morrow morning Sir WilliamWallace will enter the citadel, attended by his principal knights; andin that gallant company you must doubtless discover the man who hadlaid such obligations on us all by your preservation. "

Murray's feelings told him that glad should he be, if the utterance ofthat obligation would repay it!

Helen herself knew not how to account for the agitation which shook herwhenever she adverted to her unknown preserver. At the time of thehermit's friend (the good lay brother), having brought her to Alloa, when she explained to Lady Ruthven the cause of her strange arrival, she had then told her story with composure, till she mentioned herdeliverer; but in that moment, for the first time she felt a confusionwhich disordered the animation with which she described his patriotismand his bravery. But it was natural, she thought, that gratitude for arecent benefit should make her heart beat high. It was something likethe enthusiasm she had felt for Wallace on the rescue of her father, and she was satisfied. But a few days of quiet at Alloa had recoveredher health from the shock it had received in the recent scenes, and sheproposed to her aunt to send some trusty messenger to inform theimprisoned earl at Dumbarton of her happy refuge; and Lady Ruthven inreturn had urged the probability that the messenger would beintercepted, and so her asylum be discovered, saying, "Let it alone, till this knight of yours, by performing his word, calls you to declarehis honorable deeds. Till then, Lord Mar, ignorant of your danger, needs no assurance of your safety. "

This casual reference to the knight had then made the tranquilizedheart of Helen renew its throbbings, and turning from her aunt with anacquiescing reply, she retired to her own apartment to quell theunusual and painful blushes she felt burning on her cheeks. Why sheshould feel thus she could not account, "unless, " said she to herself, "I fear that my suspicion may be guessed at; and should my words orlooks betray the royal Bruce to any harm, that moment of undesignedingratitude would be the last of my life. "

This explanation seemed ample to herself. And henceforth avoiding allmention of her preserver in her conversations with Lady Ruthven, shehad confined the subject to her own breast; and thinking that shethought of him more by her intention to speak of him less, she wonderednot that whenever she was alone his image immediately rose in her mind, his voice seemed to sound in her ears, and even as the summer airwafted its soft fragrance over her cheek, she would turn as if she feltthat breath which had so gently brushed her to repose. She would thenstart and sigh, and repeat his words to herself, but all was serene inher bosom. For it seemed as if the contemplation of so much lovelinessof soul in so noble a form, soothed instead of agitated her heart. "What a king will he be?" thought she; "with what transport would thevirtuous Wallace set the Scottish crown on so noble a brow. "

Such were her meditations and feelings, when she was brought a prisonerto Stirling. And when she heard of the victories of Wallace, she couldnot but think that the brave arm of her knight was there, and that he, with the renowned champion of Scotland, would fly, on the receipt ofher letter, to Stirling, there to repeat the valiant deeds ofDumbarton. The first blast of the Scottish trumpet under the wallsfound her, as she had said, upon her knees, and kept her there, forhardly with any intermission, with fast and prayer did she kneel beforethe altar of Heaven-till the voice of Andrew Murray at midnight calledher to freedom and to happiness. 

Wallace, and perhaps her nameless hero with him, had again conquered!His idea dwelt in her heart and faltered on her tongue; and yet, inreciting the narrative of her late sufferings to her father, when shecame to the mentioning of the stranger's conduct to her-with anapprehensive embarrassment she felt her growing emotions as she drewnear the subject; and, hurrying over the event, she could only excuseherself for such new perturbations by supposing that the former treasonof Lady Mar now excited her alarm, with fear she should fix it on a newobject. Turning cold at an idea so pregnant with horror, she hastilypassed from the agitating theme to speak of De Valence and the respectwith which he had treated her during her imprisonment. His courtesyhad professed to deny nothing to her wishes except her personal libertyand any conference with her parents or aunt. Her father's life, hedeclared it was altogether out of his power to grant. He might suspendthe sentence, but he could not abrogate it. 

"Yes, " cried the earl, "though false and inflexible, I must not accusehim of having been so barbarous in his tyranny as Cressingham. For itwas not until De Valence was taken prisoner that Joanna and I weredivided. Till then we were lodged in decent apartments, but on thatevent Cressingham tore us from each other, and threw us into differentdungeons. My sister Janet I never saw since the hour we were separatedin the street of Stirling until the awful moment in which we met on theroof of this castle-the moment when I expected to behold her and mywife die before my eyes!"

Helen now learned, for the first time, the base cruelties which hadbeen exercised on her father and his family since the capture of DeValence. She had been exempted from sharing them by the fears ofCressingham, who, knowing that the English earl had particular viewswith regard to her, durst not risk offending him by outraging one whomhe had declared himself determined to protect. 

During part of this conversation, Murray withdrew to bring Lady Ruthvenand her son to share the general joy of full domestic reunion. Thehappy Edwin and his mother having embraced these dear relatives withyet more tender affections yearning in their bosoms, accompanied Murrayto the door of the barbican, which contained Lord Ruthven. Theyentered on the wings of conjugal and filial love; but the for oncepensive Lord Andrew, with a slow and musing step, returned into thecastle to see that all was safely disposed for the remainder of thenight. 

Chapter XXXV. 

Stirling Citadel. 

At noon next day Murray received a message from Wallace, desiring himto acquaint the Earl of Mar that he was coming to the citadel to offerthe palace of Snawdoun to the ladies of Mar, and to request the earl totake charge of the illustrous prisoners he was bringing to the castle. 

Each member of the family hastened to prepare for an interview whichexcited different expectations in each different breast. Lady Mar, well satisfied that Helen and Wallace had never met, and clinging tothe vague words of Murray, that he had sent to give her liberty, calledforth every art of the tiringroom to embellish her still fine person. Lady Ruthven, with the respectable eagerness of a chaste matron, inprospect of seeing the man who had so often been the preserver of herbrother, and who had so lately delivered her husband from a loathsomedungeon, was the first who joined the earl in the great gallery. LadyMar soon after entered like Juno, in all her plumage of majesty andbeauty. 

But the trumpet of Wallace had sounded in the gates before thetrembling Helen could leave her apartment. It was the herald of hisapproach, and she sunk breathless into a seat. She was now going tosee for the first time the man for whose woes she had so often wept;the man who had incurred them all for objects dear to her. He whom shehad mourned as one stricken in sorrows, and feared for, as an outlawdoomed to suffering and to death, was now to appear before her, not inthe garb of woe, which excuses the sympathy its wearer excites, butarrayed as a conqueror, as the champion of Scotland, giving laws to heroppressors, and entering in triumph, over fields of their slain!

Awful as this picture was to the timidity of her gentle nature, italone did not occasion that inexpressible sensation which seemed tocheck the pulses of her heart. Was she, or was she not, to recognizein his train the young and noble Bruce? Was she to be assured that hestill existed? Or, by seeking him everywhere in vain, ascertain thathe, who could not break his word, had perished, lonely and unknown?

While these ideas thronged into her mind, the platform below wasfilling with the triumphant Scots; and, her door suddenly opening, Edwin entered in delighted haste. "Come, cousin!" cried he, "SirWilliam Wallace has almost finished his business in the great hall. Hehas made my uncle governor of this place, and has committed nearly athousand prisoners of rank to his care. If you be not expeditious, youwill allow him to enter the gallery before you. "

Hardly observing her face, from the happy emotions which dazzled hisown eyes, he seized her hand, and hurried her to the gallery. 

Only her aunt and step-mother were yet there. Lady Ruthven satcomposedly, on a tapestried bench, awaiting the arrival of the company. But Lady Mar was near the door, listening impatiently to the voicesbeneath. At sight of Helen, she drew back; but she smiled exultinglywhen she saw that all the splendour of beauty she had so lately beheldand dreaded was flown. Her unadorned garments gave no particularattraction to the simple lines of her form; the effulgence of hercomplexion was gone; her cheek was pale, and the tremulous motion ofher step deprived her of the elastic grace which was usually the charmof her nymph-like figure. 

Triumph now sat in the eyes of the countess; and, with an air ofauthority, she waved Helen to take a seat beside Lady Ruthven. ButHelen, fearful of what might be her emotion when the train shouldenter, had just placed herself behind her aunt, when the steps of manya mailed foot sounded upon the oaken floor of the outward gallery. Thenext moment the great doors of the huge screen opened, and a crowd ofknights in armor flashed upon her eyes. A strange dimness overspreadher faculties, and nothing appeared to her but an indistinct throngapproaching. She would have given worlds to have been removed from thespot, but was unable to stir; and on recovering her senses, she beheldLady Mar (who, exclaiming, "Ever my preserver!" had hastened forward), now leaning on the bosom of one of the chiefs: his head was bent as ifanswering her in a low voice. By the golden locks, which hung downupon the jeweled tresses of the countess, and obscured his face, shejudged it must indeed be the deliverer of her father, the knight of herdream. But where was he, who had delivered herself from a worse fatethan death? Where was the dweller of her daily thoughts, the brightapparition of her unslumbering pillow?

Helen's sight, now clearing to as keen a vision as before it had beendulled and indistinct, with a timid and anxious gaze glanced from faceto face of the chieftains around; but all were strange. Thenwithdrawing her eyes with a sad conviction that their search was indeedin vain; in the very moment of that despair, they were arrested by aglimpse of the features of Wallace. He had raised his head; he shookback his clustering hair, and her secret was revealed. In thatgod-like countenance she recognized the object of her devoted wishes!and with a gasp of overwhelming surprise, she must have fallen from herseat, had not Lady Ruthven, hearing a sound like the sigh of death, turned round, and caught her in her arms. The cry of her aunt drewevery eye to the spot. Wallace immediately relinquished the countessto her husband, and moved toward the beautiful and senseless form thatlay on the bosom of Lady Ruthven. The earl and his agitated wifefollowed. 

"What ails my Helen?" asked the affectionate father. 

"I know not, " replied his sister; "she sat behind me, and I knewnothing of her disorder till she fell as you see. "

Murray instantly supposed that she had discovered the unknown knight;and looking from countenance to countenance, amongst the train, to tryif he could discern the envied cause of such emotions, he read in noface an answering feeling with that of Helen's; and turning away fromhis unavailing scrutiny, on hearing her draw a deep sigh, his eyesfixed themselves on her, as if they would have read her soul. Wallace, who, in the pale form before him, saw, not only the woman whom he hadpreserved with a brother's care, but the compassionate saint, who hadgiven a hallowed grave to the remains of an angel, pure as herself, nowhung over her with anxiety so eloquent in every feature that thecountess would willingly at that moment have stabbed her in every vein. 

Lady Ruthven had sprinkled her niece with water; and as she began torevive, Wallace motioned to his chieftains to withdraw; her eyes openedslowly; but recollection returning with every reawakened sense, shedimly perceived a press of people around her, and fearful of againencountering that face, which declared the Bruce of her secretmeditations and the Wallace of her declared veneration were one, sheburied her blushes in the bosom of her father. In that short point oftime, images of past, present, and to come, rushed before her; andwithout confessing to herself why she thought it necessary to make thevow, her soul seemed to swear on the sacred altar of a parent's heart, never more to think on either idea. Separate, it was sweet to muse onher own deliverer; it was delightful to dwell on the virtues of herfather's preserver. But when she saw both characters blended in one, her feelings seemed sacrilege; and she wished even to bury hergratitude, where no eye but Heaven's could see its depth and fervor. 

Trembling at what might be the consequences of this scene, Lady mardetermined to hint to Wallace that Helen loved some unknown knight; andbending to her daughter, said in a low voice, yet loud enough for himto hear, "Retire, my child; you will be better in your own room, whether pleasure or disappointment about the person you wished todiscover in Sir William's train have occasioned these emotions. "

Helen recovered herself at this indelicate remark; and raising her headwith that modest dignity which only belongs to the purest mind, gentlybut firmly said, "I obey you, madam; and he whom I have seen will betoo generous, not to pardon the effects of so unexpected a weight ofgratitude. " As she spoke, her turning eye met the fixed gaze ofWallace. His countenance became agitated, and dropping on his kneebeside her; "Gracious lady;" cried he, "mine is the right of gratitude;but it is dear land precious to me; a debt that my life will not beable to repay. I was ignorant of all your goodness, when we parted inthe hermit's cave. But the spirit of an angel like yourself, LadyHelen, will whisper to you all her widowed husband's thanks. " Hepressed her hand fervently between his, and rising, left the room. 

Helen looked on with an immovable eye, in which the heroic vow of hersoul spoke in every beam; but as he arose, even then she felt itsfrailty, for her spirit seemed leaving her; and as he disappeared fromthe door, her world seemed shut from her eyes. Not to think of him wasimpossible; how to think of him was in her own power. Her heart feltas if suddenly made a desert. But heroism was there. She had lookedupon the Heaven-dedicated Wallace; on the widowed mourner of Marion;the saint and the hero; the being of another world! and as such shewould regard him, till in the realms of purity she might acknowledgethe brother of her soul!

A sacred inspiration seemed to illuminate her features, and to bracewith the vigor of immortality those limbs which before had sunk underher. She forgot she was still of earth, while a holy love, like thatof the dove in Paradise, sat brooding on her heart. 

Lady Mar gazed on her without understanding the ethereal meaning ofthose looks. Judging from her own impassioned feelings, she could onlyresolve the resplendent beauty which shone from the now animated faceand form of Helen into the rapture of finding herself beloved. Had shenot heard Wallace declare himself to be the unknown knight who hadrescued Helen? She had heard him devote his life to her, and was nothis heart included in that dedication? She had then heard that lovevowed to another, which she would have sacrificed her soul to win!

Murray too was confounded; but his reflections were far different fromthose of Lady Mar. He saw his newly self-discerned passion smotheredin its first breath. At the moment in which he found that he loved hiscousin above all of women's mold, an unappealable voice in his bosommade him crush every fond desire. That heart which, with the chastetransports of a sister, had throbbed so entrancingly against his, wasthen another's! was become the captive of Wallace's virtues; of theonly man who, his judgment would have said, deserves Helen Mar! Butwhen he clasped her glowing beauties in his arms only the night before, his enraptured soul then believed that the tender smile he saw on herlips was meant as the sweet earnest of the happier moment, when hemight hold her there forever! That dream was now past. "Well! be itso!" said he to himself, "if this too daring passion must be clipped onthe wing, I have at least the consolation that it soared like the birdof Jove! But, loveliest of created beings, " thought he, looking onHelen with an expression which, had she met it, would have told her allthat was passing in his soul, "if I am not to be thy love, I will bethy friend-and live for thee and Wallace!"

Believing that she had read her sentence in what she thought thetriumphant glances of a happy passion, Lady Mar turned from herdaughter-in-law with such a hatred kindling in her heart, she durst nottrust her eyes to the inspection of the bystanders; but her tonguecould not be restrained beyond the moment in which the object of herjealousy left the room. As the door closed upon Helen, who retiredleaning on the arms of her aunt and Edwin, the countess turned to herlord; his eyes were looking with doting fondness toward the point whereshe withdrew. This sight augmented the angry tumults in the breast ofhis wife; and with a bitter smile she said, "So, my lord, you find theicy bosom of your Helen can be thawed!"

"How do you mean, Joanna?" returned the earl, doubting her words andlooks; "you surely cannot blame our daughter for being sensible ofgratitude. "

"I blame all young women, " replied she, "who give themselves airs ofunnatural coldness; and then, when the proof comes, behave in a mannerso extraordinary, so indelicately, I must say. "

"My Lady Mar!" ejaculated the earl, with an amazed look, "what am I tothink of you from this? How has my daughter behaved indelicately? Shedid not lay her head on Sir William Wallace's bosom and weep there tillhe replaced her on her natural pillow, mine. Have a care, madam, thatI do not see more in this spleen than would be honorable to you for meto discover. "

Fearing nothing so much as that her husband should really suspect thepassion which possessed her, and so remove her from the side ofWallace, she presently recalled her former duplicity, and with asurprised and uncomprehending air replied, "I do not understand whatyou mean, Donald. " Then turning to Lord Ruthven, who stood uneasilyviewing this scene, "How, " cried she, "can my lord discover spleen inmy maternal anxiety respecting the daughter of the husband I love andhonor above all the earth? But men do not properly estimate femalereserve. Any woman would say with me, that to faint at the sight ofSir William Wallace was declaring an emotion not to be revealed beforeso large a company! a something from which men might not draw the mostagreeable inferences. "

"It only declared surprise, madam, " cried Murray, "the surprise of amodest and ingenuous mind that did not expect to recognize its mountainfriend in the person of the protector of Scotland. "

Lady mar put up her lip, and turning to the still silent Lord Ruthven, again addressed him. "Stepmothers, my lord, " said she, have hardduties to perform; and when we think we fulfill them best, oursuspicious husband comes with a magician's wand, and turns all our goodto evil. "

"Array your good in a less equivocal garb, my dear Joanna, " answeredthe Earl of Mar, rather ashamed of the hasty words which indeed thesuspicion of a moment had drawn from his lips; "judge my child by herusual conduct, not by an accidental appearance of inconsistency, and Ishall ever be grateful for your solicitude. But in this instance, though she might betray the weakness of an enfeebled constitution, itwas certainly not the frailty of a love-sick heart. "

"Judge me by your own rule, dear Donald, " cried his wife, blandishlykissing his forehead, "and you will not again wither the mother of yourboy with such a look as I just now received!"

Glad to see this reconciliation, Lord Ruthven made a sign to Murray, and they withdrew together. 

Meanwhile, the honest earl surrendering his whole heart to the wiles ofhis wife, poured into her not inattentive ear all his wishes for Helen:all the hopes to which her late meeting with Wallace, and their presentrecognition, had given birth. "I had rather have that man my son, "said he, "than see my beloved daughter placed on an imperial throne. "

"I do not doubt it, " thought Lady Mar; "for there are many emperors, but only one William Wallace!" However, her sentiments she confined toherself: neither assenting nor dissenting, but answering so as tosecure the confidence by which she hoped to traverse his designs. 

According to the inconsistency of the wild passion that possessed her, one moment she saw nothing but despair before her, and in the next itseemed impossible that Wallace should in heart be proof against hertenderness and charms. She remembered Murray's words: that he was sentto set her free, and that recollection reawakened every hope. SirWilliam had placed Lord Mar in a post as dangerous as honorable. Should the Southrons return in any force into Scotland, Stirling mustbe one of the first places they would attack. The earl was brave, buthis wounds had robbed him of much of his martial vigor. Might she notthen be indeed set free? And might not Wallace, on such an event, meanto repay her for all those sighs he now sought to repress from ideas ofa virtue which she could admire, but had not the courage to imitate?

These wicked meditations passed even at the side of her husband, and, with a view to further every wish of her intoxicated imagination, shedetermined to spare no exertion to secure the support of her ownfamily, which, when agreeing in one point, was the most powerful of anyin the kingdom. Her father, the Earl of Strathearn, was now amisanthrope recluse in the Orkneys; she therefore did not calculate onhis assistance, but she resolved on requesting Wallace to put the namesof her cousins, Athol and Badenoch, into the exchange of prisoners, forby their means she expected to accomplish all she hoped. On Mar'sprobable speedy death she so long thought that she regarded it as acertainty, and so pressed forward to the fulfillment of her love andambition with as much eagerness as if he were already in his grave. 

She recollected that Wallace had not this time thrown her from hisbosom, when in the transports of her joy she cast herself upon it; heonly gently whispered, "Beware, lady, there are those present who maythink my services too richly paid. " With these words he hadrelinquished her to her husband. But in them she saw nothing inimicalto her wishes; it was a caution, not a reproof, and had not his warmeraddress to Helen conjured up all the fiends of jealousy, she would havebeen perfectly satisfied with these grounds of hope-slippery thoughthey were, like the sands of the sea. 

Eager, therefore, to break away from Lord Mar's projects relating tohis daughter, at the first decent opportunity she said: "We willconsider more of this, Donald. I now resign you to the duties of youroffice, and shall pay mine to her, whose interest is our own. "

Lord Mar pressed her hand to his lips, and they parted. 

Prior to Wallace's visit to the citadel, which was to be at an earlyhour the same morning, a list of the noble prisoners was put into hishand. Edwin pointed to the name of Lord Montgomery. 

"That, " said he, "is the name of the person you already esteem; but howwill you regard him when I tell you who he was?"

Wallace turned on him an inquiring look. 

"You have often spoken to me of Sir Gilbert Hambledon-"

"And this be he!" interrupted Wallace. 

Edwin recounted the manner of the earl discovering himself, and how hecame to bear that title. Wallace listened in silence and when hisyoung friend ended, sighed heavily, "I will thank him, " was all hesaid; and rising, he proceeded to the chamber of Montgomery. Even atthat early hour it was filled with his officers come to inquire aftertheir late commander's health. Wallace advanced to the couch, and theSouthrons drew back. The expression of his countenance told the earlthat he now knew him. 

"Noblest of Englishmen!" cried Wallace, in a low voice, "I come toexpress a gratitude to you, as lasting as the memory of the actionwhich gave it birth. Your generous conduct to all that was dearest tome on earth was that night in the garden of Ellerslie witnessed bymyself. I was in the tree above your head, and nothing but aconviction that I should embarrass the honor of my wife's protectorcould at that moment have prevented my springing from my covert anddeclaring my gratitude on the spot. 

"Receive my thanks now, inadequate as they are to express what I feel. But you offered me your heart on the field of Cambus-Kenneth; I willtake that as a generous intimation how I may best acknowledge my debt. Receive then my never-dying friendship, the eternal gratitude of myimmortal spirit. "

The answer of Montgomery could not but refer to the same subject, andby presenting the tender form of his wife and her devoted love, almostvisibly again before her widowed husband, nearly forced open thefountain of tears which he had buried deep in his heart; and risingsuddenly, for fear his emotions might betray themselves, he warmlypressed the hand of his English friend, and left the room. 

In the course of the same day the Southron nobles were transported intothe citadel, and the family of Mar removed from the fortress, to takeup their residence in the palace of Snawdoun. 

Chapter XXXVI. 

The Carse of Stirling. 

The fame of these victories, the seizure of Stirling, the conquest ofabove sixty thousand men, and the lord warden with his late deputytaken prisoners, all spread through the country on the wings of thewind. 

Messengers were dispatched by Wallace, not only to the nobles who hadalready declared for the cause by sending him their armed followers, but to the clans who yet stood irresolute. To the chiefs who had takenthe side of Edward, he sent no exhortation. And when Lord Ruthvenadvised him to do so, "No, my lord, " said he, "we must not spread asnare under our country, and as they had the power to befriend her, they would not have colleagued with her enemies. They remember herhappiness under the rule of our Alexanders; they see her sufferingsbeneath the sway of a usurper; and if they can know these things, andrequire arguments to bring them to their duty, should they then come toit, it would not be to fulfill, but to betray. Ours, my dear LordRuthven, is a commission from Heaven. The truth of our cause is God'sown signet, and is so clear, that it need only be seen to beacknowledged. All honest minds will come to us of themselves; andthose who are not so, had better be avoided, than shown the way bywhich treachery may effect what open violence cannot accomplish. "

This reasoning, drawn from the experience of nature, neither encumberedby the subtleties of policy nor the sophistry of the schools, wasevident to every honest understanding, and decided the question. 

Lady Mar, unknown to any one, again applied to her fatal pen; but withother views than for the ruin of the cause, or the destruction ofWallace. It was to strengthen his hands with the power of all herkinsmen; and finally, by the crown which they should place on his head, exalt her to the dignity of a queen. She wrote first to John Cummin, Earl of Buchan, enforcing a thousand reasons why he should now leave asinking cause and join the rising fortunes of his country. 

"You see, " said she, "that the happy star of Edward is setting. TheKing of France not only maintains possession of that monarch'sterritory at Guienne, but he holds him in check on the shores ofFlanders. Baffled abroad, an insurrection awaits him at home; thepriesthood whom he has insulted, trample name with anathemas; thenobles whom he has insulted, trample on his prerogative; and thepeople, whose privileges he has invaded, call aloud for redress. Theproud barons of England are ready to revolt; and the Lords Hereford andNorfolk (those two earls whom, after madly threatening to hang, ** hesought to bribe to their allegiance by leaving them in the full powersof Constable and Marshal of England), they are now conductingthemselves with such domineering consequence, that even the Prince ofWales submits to their directions, and the throne of the absent tyrantis shaken to its center. 

**Edward intended to send out forces to Guienne, under the command ofHumphrey Earl of Hereford, the constable, and Roger Earl of Norfolk, the Marshal of England, when these two powerful nobles refused toexecute his commands. A violent altercation ensued; and the king, inthe height of his passion, exclaimed to the constable, "Sir Earl, byG-, you shall either go or hang. " "By G-, Sir King, " replied Hereford, "I will neither go nor hang. " And he immediately departed with themarshal and their respective trains. 

"Sir William Wallace has rescued Scotland from his yoke. The countrynow calls for her ancient lords-those who made her kings, and supportedthem. Come, then, my cousin! espouse the cause of right; the causethat is in power; the cause that may aggrandize the house of Cumminwith still higher dignities than any with which it has hitherto beenblazoned. "

With these arguments, and with others more adapted to his Belial mind, she tried to bring him to her purpose; to awaken what ambition hepossessed; and to entice his baser passions, by offering security in arescued country to the indulgence of senses to which he had alreadysacrificed the best properties of man. She dispatched her letter by amessenger, whom she bribed to secrecy; and added in her postscript, "that the answer she should hope to receive would be an offer of hisservices to Sir William Wallace. "

While the Countess of Mar was devising her plans (for the gaining ofLord Buchan was only a preliminary measure), the dispatches of Wallacehad taken effect. Their simple details, and the voice of fame, hadroused a general spirit throughout the land; and in the course of avery short time after the different messengers had left Stirling, theplain around the city was covered with a mixed multitude. All Scotlandseemed pressing to throw itself at the feet of its preserver. A largebody of men brought from Mar by Murray according to his uncle's orders, were amongst the first encamped on the Carse; and that part ofWallace's own particular band which he had left at Dumbarton, torecover their wounds, now, under the command of Stephen Ireland, rejoined their lord at Stirling. 

Neil Campbell, the brave Lord of Loch-awe, and Lord Bothwell, thefather of Lord Andrew Murray, with a strong reinforcement, arrived fromArgyleshire. The chiefs of Ross, Dundas, Gordon, Lockhart, Logan, Elphinstone, Scott, Erskine, Lindsay, Cameron, and of almost everynoble family in Scotland, sent their sons at the heads of detachmentsfrom their clans, to swell the ranks of Sir William Wallace. 

When this patriotic host assembled on the Carse of Stirling, everyinmate of the city, who had not duty to confine him within the walls, turned out to view the glorious sight. Mounted within the walls, turned out to view the glorious sight. Mounted on a rising ground, they saw each little army, and the emblazoned banners of all thechivalry of Scotland floating afar over the lengthened ranks. 

At this moment, the lines which guarded the outworks of Stirling openedfrom right to left, and discovered Wallace advancing on a whitecharger. When the conqueror of Edward's hosts appeared-the delivererof Scotland-a mighty shout, from the thousands around, rent the skies, and shook the earth on which they stood. 

Wallace raised his helmet from his brow, as by an instinctive motionevery hand bent the sword or banner it contained. 

"He comes in the strength of David!" cried the venerable bishop ofDunkeld, who appeared at the head of his church's tenantry; "Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!"

The exclamation, which burst like inspiration from the lips of thebishop, struck to every heart. "Long live our William the Lion! ourScottish King!" was echoed with transport by every follower on theground; and while the reverberating heavens seemed to ratify the voiceof the people, the lords themselves (believing that he who won had thebest right to enjoy) joined in the glorious cry. Galloping up from thefront of their ranks, they threw themselves from their steeds, andbefore Wallace could recover from the surprise into which thisunexpected salutation had thrown him, Lord Bothwell and Lord Loch-awe, followed by the rest, had bent their knees, and acknowledged him to betheir sovereign. The Bishop of Dunkeld at the same moment drawing fromhis breast a silver dove of sacred oil, poured it upon the unbonnetedhead of Wallace. "Thus, O King!" cried he, "do I consecrate on earth, what has already received the unction of Heaven!"

Wallace, at this action, was awe-struck, and raising his eyes to thatHeaven, his soul in silence breathed its unutterable devotion. Thenlooking on the bishop: "Holy father, " said he, "this unction may haveprepared my brows for a crown, but it is not of this world, and DivineMercy must bestow it. Rise, lords!" and as he spoke, he flung himselffrom his horse, and taking Lord Bothwell by the hand, as the eldest ofthe band, "kneel not to me, " cried he; "I am to you what Gideon was tothe Israelites-your fellow-soldier. I cannot assume the scepter youwould bestow; for He who rules us all has yet preserved to you a lawfulmonarch. Bruce lives. And were he extinct, the blood royal flows intoo many noble veins in Scotland for me to usurp its rights. "

"The rights of the crown lie with the only man in Scotland who knowshow to defend them! else reason is blind, or the nation abandons itsown prerogative. What we have this moment vowed, is not to beforsworn. Baliol has abdicated our throne; the Bruce deserted it; allour nobles slept till you awoke; and shall we bow to men who mayfollow, but will not lead? No, bravest Wallace, from the moment youdrew the first sword for Scotland, you made yourself her lawful king. "

Wallace turned to the veteran Lord of Loch-awe, who uttered this with ablunt determination that meant to say, the election which had passedshould not be recalled. "I made myself her champion, to fight for herfreedom, not my own aggrandizement. Were I to accept the honor withwhich this too grateful nation would repay my service, I should notbring it that peace for which I contend. Struggling for liberty, thetoils of my brave countrymen would be redoubled; for they would have tomaintain the tights of an unallied king against a host of enemies. Thecircumstances of a man from the private stations of life being elevatedto such a dignity would be felt as an insult by every royal house, andfoes and friends would arm against us. On these grounds of policyalone, even were my heart not loyal to the vows of my ancestors, Ishould repel the mischief you would bring upon yourselves by making meyour king. As it is, my conscience, as well as my judgment, compels mereject it. As your general, I may serve you gloriously; as yourmonarch, in spite of myself, I should incur your ultimate destruction. "

"From whom, noblest of Scots!" asked the Lord of Bothwell. 

"From yourselves, my friends, " answered Wallace, with a gentle smile. "Could I take advantage of the generous enthusiasm of a gratefulnation; could I forget the duty I owe to the blood of our Alexanders, and leap into the throne, there are many who would soon revolt againsttheir own election. You cannot be ignorant, that there are natures whowould endure no rule, did it not come by the right of inheritance; aright by dispute, lest they teach their inferiors the same refractorylesson. But to bend with voluntary subjection, to long obey a powerraised by themselves, would be a sacrifice abhorrent to their pride. After having displayed their efficiency in making a king, they wouldprove their independence by striving to pull him down the moment hemade them feel his specter. 

"Such would be the fate of this election. Jealousies and rebellionswould mark my reign; till even my closest adherents, seeing themiseries of civil war, would fall from my side, and leave the countryagain open to the inroads of her enemies. 

"These, my friends and countrymen, would be my reasons for rejectingthe crown did my ambition point that way. But as I have no joy intitles, no pleasure in any power that does not spring hourly from theheart, let my reign be in your bosoms; and with the appellation of yourfellow-soldier, your friend! I will fight for you, I will conquer foryou-I will live or die!"

"This man, " whispered Lord Buchan, who having arrived in the rear ofthe troops on the appearance of Wallace, advanced within hearing ofwhat he said-"this man shows more cunning in repulsing a crown thanmost are capable of exerting to obtain one. "

"Ay, but let us see, " returned the Earl of March, who accompanied him, "whether it be not Caesar's coyness; he thrice refused the purple, andyet he died Emperor of the Romans!"

"He that offers me a crown, " returned Buchan, "shall never catch meplaying the coquette with its charms. I warrant you, I would embracethe lovely mischief in the first presentation. " A shout rent the air. "What is that?" cried he, interrupting himself. 

"He has followed your advice, " answered March, with a satirical smile, "it is the preliminary trumpet to long live King William the Great!"

Lord Buchan spurred forward to Scrymgeour, whom he knew, and inquired, "where the new king was to be crowned? We have not yet to thank himfor the possession of Scone!"

"True, " cried Sir Alexander, comprehending the sarcasm; "but did SirWilliam Wallace accept the prayers of Scotland, neither Scone nor anyother spot in the kingdom would refuse the place of his coronation. "

"Not accept them!" replied Buchan; "then why the shout? Do thechangelings rejoice in being refused?"

"When we cannot gain the altitude of our desires, " returned the knight, "it is yet subject for thankfulness when we reach a step toward it. Sir William Wallace has consented to be considered as the protector ofthe kingdom; to hold it for the rightful sovereign, under the name ofregent. "

"Ay, " cried March, "he has only taken a mistress instead of a wife;and, trust me, when once he has got her into his arms, it will not beall the gray beards in Scotland that can wrest her thence again. Imarvel to see how men can be cajoled and call the visor virtue. "

Scrymgeour had not waited for this reply of the insolent earl, andBuchan answered him: "I care not, " said he; "whoever keeps my castleover my head, and my cellars full, is welcome to reign over John ofBuchan. So onward, my gallant Cospatrick, to make our bow to royaltyin masquerade. "

When these scorners approached, they found Wallace standing uncoveredin the midst of his happy nobles. There was not a man present to whomhe had not given proofs of his divine commission; each individual wassnatched from a state of oppression and disgrace, and placed insecurity and honor. With overflowing gratitude, they all throngedaround him; and the young, the isolated Wallace, found a nation waitingon his nod; the hearts of half a million of people offered to his handto turn and wind them as he pleased. No crown sat on his brows; butthe bright halo of true glory beamed from his godlike countenance. Iteven checked the arrogant smiles with which the haughty March and thevoluptuous Buchan came forward to mock him with their homage. 

As the near relations of Lady Mar, he received them with courtesy; butone glance of his eye penetrated to the hollowness of both; and then, remounting his steed, the stirrups of which were held by Edwin and Ker, he touched the head of the former with his hand; "Follow me, my friend;I now go to pay my duty to your mother. For you, my lords, " said he, turning to the nobles around, "I shall hope to meet you at noon in thecitadel, where we must consult together on further prompt movements. Nothing with us can be considered as won till all is gained. "

The chieftains, with bows, acquiesced in his mandate, and fell backtoward their troops. But the foremost ranks of those brave fellows, having heard much of what had passed, were so inflamed with admirationof their regent, that they rushed forward, and collecting in crowdsaround his horse, and in his path, some pressed to kiss his hand, andothers his way, shouting and calling down blessings upon him, till hestopped at the gate of Snawdoun. 

Chapter XXXVII. 

Snawdoun Palace. 

Owing to the multiplicity of affairs which engaged Wallace's attentionafter the capture of Stirling, the ladies of Mar had not seen him sincehis first visit to the citadel. The countess passed this time inwriting her dispatches to the numerous lords of her house, both inScotland and in England; and by her subtle arguments she completelypersuaded her husband of the cogency of putting the names of Lord Atholand Lord Badenoch into the list of noble prisoners he should request. 

When this was proposed to Wallace, he recollected the conduct of Atholat Montrose; and, being alone with Lord Mar, he made some objectionsagainst inviting him back into the country. But the earl, who wasprepared by his wife to overcome every obstacle in the way of herkinsman's return, answered, "That he believed, from the representationshe had received of the private opinions both of Badenoch and Athol, that their treason was more against Baliol than the kingdom; and thatnow that prince was irretrievably removed, he understood they would beglad to take a part in its recovery. "

"That may be the case with the Earl of Badenoch, " replied Wallace, "butsomething less friendly to Scotland must be in the breast of the manwho could betray Lord Douglas into the hands of his enemies. "

"So I should have thought, " replied the earl, "had not the earnestnesswith which my wife pleads his cause convinced me she knows more of hismind than she chooses to intrust me with, and therefore I suppose hisconduct to Douglas arose from personal pique. "

Though these explanations did not at all raise the absent lords in hisesteem, yet to appear hostile to the return of Lady Mar's relationswould be a violence to her, which, in proportion as Wallace shrunk fromthe guilty affection she was so eager to lavish upon him, he was averseto committing; wishing, by showing her every proper consideration, tolead her to apprehend the turpitude of her conduct; by convincing herthat his abhorrence of her advances had its origin in principle, ratherthan from personal repugnance to herself; and so she might see thefoulness of her crime, and be recalled to virtue. He was therefore notdispleased to have this opportunity of obliging her; and, as he hopedthat amongst so many warm friends a few cool ones could not do muchinjury, he gave in the names of Badenoch and Athol, with those of LordDouglas, Sir William Maitland (the only son of the venerable knight ofThirlestane), Sir John Monteith, and many other brave Scots. 

For these, the Earls de Warenne, De Valence, and Montgomery, the BaronsHilton and Blenkinsopp, and others of note, were to exchanged. Thoseof lesser consequence, man for man, were to be returned for Scots ofthe same degree. 

In arranging preliminaries to effect the speedy return of the Scotsfrom England (who must be known to have arrived on the borders, beforethe English would be permitted to cross them); in writing dispatches onthis subject, and on others of equal moment, had passed the timebetween the surrender of Stirling and the hour when Wallace was calledto the plain, to receive the offered homage of his grateful country. 

Impatient to behold again the object of her fond machinations, Lady Marhastened to the window of her apartment, when the shouts in the streetsinformed her of the approach of Wallace. The loud huzzas, accompaniedby the acclamations of "Our protector and prince!" seemed already tobind her brows with her anticipated diadem, and for a moment, vanitylost the image of love in the purple with which she enveloped it. 

Her ambitious vision was disturbed by the crowd rushing forward; thegates were thronged with people of every age and sex, and Wallacehimself appeared on his white charger, with his helmet off, bowing andsmiling upon the populace. There was a mild effulgence in his eye; adivine benevolence in his countenance, as his parted lips showed thebrightness of his smile, which seemed to speak of happiness within, ofjoy to all around. She hastily snatched a chaplet of flowers form herhead, and threw it from the window. Wallace looked up; his brow andhis smile were then directed to her! but they were altered. The momenthe met the congratulation of her eager eyes, he remembered what wouldhave been the soft welcome of his Marion's under the like circumstance! But that tender eye was closed-that ear was shut, to whom he wouldhave wished these plaudits to have given rapture-and they were now asnothing to him. The countess saw not what was passing in his mind, butkissing her hand to him, disappeared from the window when he enteredthe palace. 

Another eye beside Lady Mar's had witnessed the triumphant entry ofWallace. Triumphant in the true sense of the word; for he came avictor over the hearts of men; he came, not attended by his captiveswon in the war, but by the people he had blessed, by throngs callinghim preserver, father, friend, and prince! By every title which caninspire the soul of man with the happy consciousness of fulfilling hisembassy here below. 

Helen was this witness. She had passed the long interval, since shehad seen Wallace, in the state of one in a dream. The glance had beenso transient, that every succeeding hour seemed to lessen the evidenceof her senses that she had really beheld him. It appeared impossibleto her that the man whom her thoughts had hitherto dwelt on as thewidowed husband of Marion, as the hero whom sorrow had wholly dedicatedto patriotism and to Heaven, should ever awaken in her breast feelingswhich would seem to break like a sacrilegious host upon the holyconsecration of his. Once she had contemplated this idea with thepensive impressions of one leaning over the grave of a hero; and shecould then turn as if emerging from the glooms of sepulchral monumentsto upper day, to the image of her unknown knight! she could thenblamelessly recollect the matchless graces of his figure! the noblesoul that breathed from his every word and action; the sweet, thoughthoughtful, serenity that sat on his brow! "There, " whispered she toherself, "are the lofty meditations of a royal mind, devising thefreedom of his people. When that is effected, how will the perfectsunshine break out from that face! Ah! how blest must Scotland beunder his reign, when all will be light, virtue, and joy!" Blisshovered like an angel over the image of this imaginary Bruce; whilesorrow, in mourning weeds, seemed ever dropping tears, when anycircumstance recalled that of the real Wallace. 

Such was the state of Helen's thoughts, when in the moment beholdingthe chief Ellerslie in the citadel she recognized, in his expectedmelancholy form, the resplendent countenance of him whom she supposedthe prince of Scotland. That two images so opposite should at onceunite; that in one bosom should be mingled all the virtues she hadbelieved peculiar to each, struck her with overwhelming amazement. Butwhen she recovered from her short swoon, and found Wallace at her feet;when she felt that all the devotion her heart had hitherto paid to thesimple idea of virtue alone would now be attracted to that gloriousmortal, in whom all human excellence appeared summed up, she trembledunder an emotion that seemed to rob her of herself, and place a newprinciple of being within her. 

All was so extraordinary, so unlooked for, so bewildering, that fromthe moment in which she had retired in such a paroxysm ofhighly-wrought feelings from her first interview in the gallery withhim, she became altogether like a person in a trance; and hardlyanswering her aunt, when she then led her up the stairs, onlycomplained she was ill, and threw herself upon a couch. 

At the very time that her heart told her in a language she could notmisunderstand, that she irrevocably loved this too glorious, tooamiable Wallace, it as powerfully denounced to her, that she haddevoted herself to one who must ever be to her as a being of air. Noword of sympathy would ever whisper felicity to her heart; no-the flamethat was within her (which she found would be immortal as the vestalfires which resemble its purity) must burn there unknown; hidden, butnot smothered. 

"Were this a canonized saint, " cried she, as she laid her throbbinghead upon her pillow, "how gladly should I feel these emotions! For, could I not fall down and worship him? Could I not think it a world ofbliss, to live forever within the influence of his virtues; looking athim, listening to him, rejoicing in his praises, happy in hishappiness! Yes, though I were a peasant girl, and he not know thatHelen Mar even existed! And I may live thus, " said she; "and I maysteal some portion of the rare lot that was Lady Marion's-to die forsuch a man! Ah! could I be in Edwin's place and wait upon his smiles!But that may not be; I am a woman, and formed to suffer in silence andseclusion. But even at a distance, brave Wallace, my spirit shallwatch over you in the form of this Edwin; I will teach him a doublecare of the light of Scotland. And my prayers, also, shall follow you;so that when we meet in heaven, the Blessed Virgin shall say with whathosts of angels her intercessions, through my vigils have surroundedthee!"

Chapter XXXVIII. 

The Bower, or Ladies' Apartment. 

Thus did Lady Helen commune with her own strangely-affected heart;sometimes doubting the evidence of her eyes; then, convinced of theirfidelity, striving to allay the tumults in her mind. She seldomappeared from her own rooms. And such retirement was not questioned, her father being altogether engaged at the citadel, the countessabsorbed in her own speculations, and Lady Ruthven alone interruptedthe solitude of her niece by frequent visits. Little suspecting thecause of Helen's prolonged indisposition, she generally selectedWallace for the subject of conversation. She descanted with enthusiasmon the rare perfection of his character; told her all that Edwin hadrelated of his actions from the taking of Dumbarton to the presentmoment; and then bade Helen remark the miracle of such wisdom, valor, and goodness being found in one so young and handsome. 

"So, my child, " added she, "depend on it; before he was Lady Marion'shusband he must have heard sighs enough from the fairest in our land tohave turned the wits of half the male world. There is something in hisvery look, did you meet him on the heath without better barg than ashepherd's plaid, sufficient to declare him the noblest of men; and, methinks, would excuse the gentlest lady in the land for leaving halland bower to share his sheep-cote. But, alas!" and then the playfulexpression of her countenance altered, "he is now for none on earth!"

With these words she turned the subject to the confidential hours hepassed with the young adopted brother of his heart. Every fond emotionseemed then centered in his wife and child. When Lady Ruthven repeatedhis pathetic words to Edwin, she wept; she even sobbed, and paused torecover; while the deep and silent tears which flowed from the heart tothe eyes of Lady Helen bathed the side of the couch on which sheleaned. "Alas!" cried Lady Ruthven, "that a man, so formed to graceevery relation in life-so noble a creature in all respects-so fond of ahusband-so full of parental tenderness-that he should be deprived ofthe wife on whom he doted; that he should be cut off from all hope ofposterity; that when he shall die, nothing will be left of WilliamWallace-breaks my heart!"

"Ah, my aunt, " cried Helen, raising her head with animation, "will henot leave behind him the liberty of Scotland? That is an offspringworthy of his god-like soul. "

"True, my dear Helen; but had you ever been a parent, you would knowthat no achievements, however great, can heal the wound made in afather's heart by the loss of a beloved child. And though Sir WilliamWallace never saw the infant, ready to bless his arms, yet it perishedin the bosom of its mother; and that circumstance must redouble hisaffliction; horribly does it enhance the cruelty of the deed!"

"He has in all things been a direful sacrifice, " returned Helen; "andwith God alone dwells the power to wipe the tears from his heart. "

"They flow not from his eyes, " answered her aunt; "but deep, deep isthe grief that, my Edwin says, is settled there. "

While Lady Ruthven was uttering these words, shouts in the street madeher pause; and soon recognizing the name of Wallace sounding from thelips of the rejoicing multitude, she turned to Helen: "Here comes ourdeliverer!" cried she, taking her by the hand; "we have not seen himsince the first day of our liberty. It will do you good, as it willme, to look on his beneficent face!"

She obeyed the impulse of her aunt's arm, and reached the window justas he passed into the courtyard. Helen's soul seemed rushing from hereyes. "Ah! it is indeed he!" thought she; "no dream, no illusion, buthis very self. "

He looked up; but not on her side of the building; it was to the windowof Lady Mar; and as he bowed, he smiled. All the charms of that smilestruck upon the soul of Helen; and, hastily retreating, she sunkbreathless into a seat. 

"O, no! that man cannot be born for the isolated state I have justlamented. He is not to be forever cut off from communicating thathappiness to which he would give so much enchantment!" Lady Ruthvenejaculated this with fervor, her matron cheeks flushing with a suddenand more forcible admiration of the person and mien of Wallace. "Therewas something in that smile, Helen, which tells me all is not chilledwithin. And, indeed, how should it be otherwise? That generousinterest in the happiness of all, which seems to flow in a tide ofuniversal love, cannot spring from a source incapable of dispensing thesofter screams of it again. "

Helen, whose well-poised soul was not affected by the agitation of herbody (agitation she was determined to conquer), calmly answered: "Sucha hope little agrees with all you have been telling me of hisconversation with Edwin. Sir William Wallace will never love womanmore; and even to name the idea seems an offense against the sacrednessof his sorrow. "

"Blame me not, Helen, " returned Lady Ruthven, "that I forgotprobability, in grasping at possibility which might give me such anephew as Sir William Wallace, and you a husband worthy of your merits! I had always, in my own mind, fixed on the unknown knight for yourfuture lord; and now that I find that he and the deliverer of Scotlandare one, I am not to be looked grave at for wishing to reward him withthe most precious heart that ever beat in a female breast. "

"No more of this, if you love me, my dear aunt!" returned Helen; "itneither can nor ought to be. I revere the memory of Lady Marion toomuch not to be agitated by the subject; so, no more!"-she was agitated. But at that instant Edwin throwing open the door, put an end to theconversation. 

He came to apprise his mother that Sir William Wallace was in the stateapartments, come purposely to pay his respects to her, not having evenbeen introduced to her when the sudden illness of her niece in thecastle had made them part so abruptly. 

"I will not interrupt his introduction now, " said Helen, with a faintsmile; "a few days' retirement will strengthen me, and then I shall seeour protector as I ought. "

"I will stay with you, " cried Edwin, "and I dare say Sir WilliamWallace will have no objection to be speedily joined by my mother; for, as I came along, I met my aunt Mar hastening through the gallery; and, between ourselves, my sweet coz, I do not think my noble friend quitelikes a private conference with your fair stepmother. "

Lady Ruthven had withdrawn before he made this observation. 

"Why, Edwin?-surely she would not do anything ungracious to one to whomshe owes so great a weight of obligations?" When Helen asked this, sheremembered the spleen Lady Mar once cherished against Wallace; and shefeared it might now be revived. 

"Ungracious! O, no! the reverse of that; but her gratitude is full ofabsurdity. I will not repeat the fooleries with which she sought todetain him at Bute. And that some new fancy respecting him is nowabout to menace his patience. I am convinced; for, on my way hither, Imet her hurrying along, and as she passed me she exclaimed, 'Is LordBuchan arrived?' I answered. 'Yes. ' 'Ah, then he proclaimed himking?' cried she; and into the great gallery she darted. "

"You do not mean to say, " demanded Helen, turning her eyes with anexpression which seemed confident of his answer, "that Sir WilliamWallace has accepted the crown of Scotland?"

"Certainly not, " replied Edwin; "but as certainly it has been offeredto him, and he has refused it. "

"I could have sworn it!" returned Helen, rising from her chair; "all isloyal, all is great and consistent there, Edwin!"

"He is, indeed, the perfect exemplar of all nobleness, " rejoined theyouth; "and I believe I shall even love you better, my dear cousin, because you seem to have so clear an apprehension of his realcharacter. " He then proceeded, with all the animation of the mostzealous affection, to narrate to Helen the particulars of the latescene on the Carse of Stirling. And while he deepened still more theprofound impression the virtues of Wallace had made on her heart, hereopened its more tender sympathies by repeating, with even minuteraccuracy than he had done to his mother, details of those hours whichhe passed with him in retirement. He spoke of the beacon-hill; ofmoonlight walks in the camp, when all but the sentinels and his generaland himself were sunk in sleep. 

These were the seasons when the suppressed feelings of Wallace would byfits break from his lips, and at last pour themselves out, unrestrainedly, to the ear of sympathy. As the young narratordescribed all the endearing qualities of his friend, the cheerfulheroism with which he quelled every tender remembrance to do his dutyin the day-"for it is only in the night, " said Edwin, "that my generalremembers Ellerslie"-Helen's tears again stole silently down hercheeks. Edwin perceived them, and throwing his arms gently around her. "Weep not, my sweet cousin, " said he; "for, with all his sorrow, Inever saw true happiness till I beheld it in the eyes and heard it inthe voice of Sir William Wallace. He has talked to me of the joy heshould experience in giving liberty to Scotland, and establishing herpeace, till his enthusiastic soul, grasping hope, as if it werepossession, he has looked on me with a consciousness of enjoyment whichseemed to say that all bliss was summed up in a patriot's breast. 

"And at other times, when, after a conversation on his beloved Marion, a few natural regrets would pass his lips, and my tears tell how deepwas my sympathy, then he would turn to comfort me; then he would showme the world beyond this-that world which is the aim of all his deeds, the end of all his travails-and, lost in the rapturous idea of meetinghis Marion there, a foretaste of all would seem to seize his soul: andwere I then called upon to point out the most enviable felicity onearth, I should say it is that of Sir William Wallace. It is thisenthusiasm in all he believes and feels that makes him what he is. Itis this eternal spirit of hope, infused into him by Heaven itself, thatmakes him rise from sorrow, like the sun from a cloud, brighter, andwith more ardent beams. It is this that bathes his lips in the smilesof Paradise, that throws a divine luster over his eyes, and makes alldream of love and happiness that look upon him. "

Edwin paused. "Is it not so, my cousin?"

Helen raised her thoughtful face. "He is not a being of this earth, Edwin. We must learn to imitate him, as well as to-" She hesitated, then added, "As well as to revere him, I do before the altars of thesaints. But not to worship, " said she, interrupting herself; "thatwould be a crime. To look on him as a glorious example of patientsuffering-of invincible courage in the behalf of truth and mercy! Thisis the end of my reverence for him, and this sentiment, my dear Edwin, you partake. "

"It possesses me wholly, " cried the energetic youth; "I have nothought, no wish, nor ever move or speak, but with the intent to belike him. He calls me his brother! and I will be so in soul, though Icannot in blood; and then, my dear Helen, you shall have two SirWilliam Wallaces to love!"

"Sweetest, sweetest boy!" cried Helen, putting her quivering lips tohis forehead; "you will then always remember that Helen so dearly lovesScotland as to be jealous, above all earthly things, for the lordregent's safety. Be his guardian angel. Beware of treason in man andwoman, friend and kindred. It lurks, my cousin, under the mostspecious forms; and, as one, mark Lord Buchan; in short, have a care ofall whom any of the house of Cummin may introduce. Watch over yourgeneral's life in the private hour. It is not the public field I fearfor him; his valiant arm will there be his own guard! But, in theunreserved day of confidence, envy will point its dagger; and then, beas eyes to his too trusting soul-as a shield to his too confidentlyexposed breast!"

As she spoke she strove to conceal her too eloquent face in the silkenringlets of her hair. 

"I will be all this, " cried Edwin, who saw nothing in her tendersolicitude but the ingenuous affection which glowed in his own heart;"and I will be your eyes, too, my cousin; for when I am absent with SirWilliam Wallace I shall consider myself your representative, and sowill send you regular dispatches of all that happens to him. "

Thanks would have been a poor means of imparting what she felt at thisassurance; and, rising from her seat, with some of Wallace's ownresigned and enthusiastic expression in her face, she pressed Edwin'shand to her heart; then bowing her head to him, in token of gratitude, withdrew into an inner apartment. 

Chapter XXXIX. 

Stirling Castle and Council Hall. 

The countess' chivalric tribute from the window gave Wallace reason toanticipate her company in his visit to Lady Ruthven; and on finding theroom vacant, he dispatched Edwin for his mother, that he might not bedistressed by the unchecked advances of a woman whom, as the wife ofLord Mar, he was obliged to see, and whose weakness he pitied, as shebelonged to a sex for which, in consideration of the felicity oncebestowed on him by woman, he felt a peculiar tenderness. Respect thecountess he could not; nor, indeed, could he feel any gratitude for apreference which seemed to him to have no foundations in the only truebasis of love-the virtues of the object. For, as she acted againstevery moral law, against his declared sentiments, it was evident thatshe placed little value on his esteem; and therefore he despised, whilehe pitied, a human creature ungovernably yielding herself to the swayof her passions. 

In the midst of thoughts so little to her advantage, Lady Mar enteredthe room. Wallace turned to meet her; while she, hastening toward him, and dropping on one knee, exclaimed, "Let me be the first woman inScotland to acknowledge its king!"

Wallace put forth both his hands to raise her; and smiling, replied, "Lady Mar, you would do me an honor I can never claim. "

"How?" cried she, starting up. "What, then, was that cry I heard? Didthey not call you 'prince, ' and 'sovereign?' Did not my Lord Buchan-"

Confused, disappointed, overpowered, she left the sentence unfinished, sunk on a seat, and burst into tears. At that moment she saw heranticipated crown fall from her head, and having united the gaining ofWallace with his acquisition of this dignity, all her hopes seemedagain the sport of winds. She felt as if Wallace had eluded her power, for it was by the ambition-serving acts of her kinsman that she hadmeant to bind him to her love; and now all was rejected, and she weptin despair. He gazed at her with amazement. What these emotions andhis elevation had to do with each other, he could not guess; but, recollecting her manner of mentioning Lord Buchan's name, he answered, "Lord Buchan I have just seen. He and Lord March came upon the carseat the time I went thither to meet my gallant countrymen; and these twonoblemen, though so lately the friends of Edward, united with the restin proclaiming me regent. "

This word dried the tears of Lady Mar. She saw the shadow of royaltybehind it; and summoning artifice, to conceal the joy of her heart, shecalmly said, "Do not too severely condemn this weakness; it is not thatof vain wishes for your aggrandizement. You are the same to Joanna Marwhether as a monarch or a private man, so long as you possess thatsupremacy in all, excellence which first gained her esteem. It is forScotland's sake alone that I wish you to be her king. You have taughtme to forget all selfish desires-to respect myself, " cried she; "and, from this hour I conjure you to wipe from your memory all my folly-allmy love-"

With the last word her bosom heaved tumultuously, and she rose inagitation. Wallace now gazed on her with redoubled wonder. She sawit; and hearing a foot in the passage, turned, and grasping his hand, said in a soft and hurried tone, "Forgive, that which is entwined withmy heart should cost me some pangs to wrest thence again. Only respectme and I am comforted. " Wallace in silence pressed her hand, and thedoor opened. 

Lady Ruthven entered. The countess, whose present aim was to throw thevirtue of Wallace off its guard, and to take that by sap, which shefound resisted open attack, with a penitential air disappeared byanother passage. Edwin's gentle mother was followed by the same youthwho had brought Helen's packet to Berwick. It was Walter Hay, anxiousto be recognized by his benefactor, to whom his recovered health hadrendered his person strange. Wallace received him with kindness, andtold him to bear his grateful respects to his lady for her care of hercharge. Lord Ruthven with others soon entered; and at the appointedhour they attended their chief to the citadel. 

The council-hall was already filled with the lords who had broughttheir clans to the Scottish standard. On the entrance of Wallace theyrose; and Mar coming forward, followed by the heralds and otherofficers of ceremony, saluted him with the due forms of regent, and ledhim to the throne. Wallace ascended; but it was only to take thence apacket which had been deposited for him on its cushion, and coming downagain, he laid the parchment on the council-table. 

"I can do all things best, " said he, "when I am upon a level with myfriends. " He then broke the seal of the packet. It was from thePrince of Wales, agreeing to Wallace's proposed exchange of prisoners, but denouncing him as the instigator of the rebellion, and threateninghim with a future judgment from his incensed king for the mischief hehad wrought in the realm of Scotland. The letter was finished with ademand that the town and citadel of Berwick should be surrendered toEngland, as a gauge for the quiet of the borders till Edward shouldreturn. 

Kirkpatrick scoffed at the audacious menace of the young prince. "Heshould come amongst us, like a man, " cried he; "and we would soon showhim who it is that works mischief in Scotland! Ay, even on his back, we would write the chastisement due to the offender. "

"Be not angry with him, my friend, " returned Wallace; "these threatsare words of course from the son of Edward. Did he not fear both ourrights and our arms, he would not so readily accord with ourpropositions. You see every Scottish prisoner is to be on the bordersby a certain day; and to satisfy that impatient valor (which I, yourfriend, would never check, but when it loses itself in a furor toonearly resembling that of our enemies), I intend to make your prowessonce again the theme of their discourse. You will retake your castlesin Annandale!"

"Give me but the means to recover those stout gates of our country, "cried Kirkpatrick, "and I will warrant you to keep the keys in my handtill doomsday. "

Wallace resumed: "Three thousand men are at your command. When theprisoners pass each other on the Cheviots, the armistice willterminate. You may then fall back upon Annandale, and that night, light your own fires in Torthorald! Send the expelled garrison intoNorthumberland, and show this haughty prince that we know how toreplenish his depopulated towns!"

"But first I will set my mark on them!" cried Kirkpatrick, with one ofthose laughs which ever preluded some savage proposal. 

"I can guess it would be no gentle one, " returned Wallace. "Why, braveknight, will you ever sully the fair field of your fame with anensanguined tide?"

"It is the fashion of the times, " replied Kirkpatrick, roughly, "Youonly, my victorious general, who, perhaps, had most cause to go withthe stream, have chosen a path of your own. But look around! see ourburns, which the Southrons made run with Scottish blood; our hillocks, swollen with the cairns of our slain; the highways blocked up with thegraves of the murdered; our lands filled with maimed clansmen, whopurchased life of our ruthless tyrants, by the loss of eyes and limbs!And, shall we talk of gentle methods, with the perpetrators of thesehorrors? Sir William Wallace, you would make women of us!"

"Shame, shame, Kirkpatrick!" resounded from every voice, "you insultthe regent!"

Kirkpatrick stood, proudly frowning, with his left hand on the hilt ofhis sword. Wallace, by a motion, hushed the tumult, and spoke: "Notrue chief of Scotland can offer me greater respect, than frankly totrust me with his sentiments. "

"Though we disagree in some points, " cried Kirkpatrick, "I am ready todie for him at any time, for I believe a trustier Scot treads not theearth; but I repeat, why, by this mincing mercy, seek to turn oursoldiers into women?"

"I seek to make them men, " replied Wallace; "to be aware that theyfight with fellow-creatures, with whom they may one day be friends; andnot like the furious savages of old Scandinavia, drink the blood ofeternal enmity. I would neither have my chieftains set examples ofcruelty, nor degrade themselves by imitating the barbarities of ourenemies. That Scotland bleeds every pore is true; but let peace be ouraim, and we shall heal all her wounds. "

"Then I am not to cut off the ears of the freebooters in Annandale?"cried Kirkpatrick, with a good-humored smile. "Have it as you will, mygeneral, only you must new christen me to wash the war-stain from myhand. The rite of my infancy was performed as became a soldier's son;my fount was my father's helmet and the first pap I sucked lay on thepoint of his sword. "

"You have not shamed your nurse!" cried Murray. 

"Nor will I, " answered Kirkpatrick, "while the arm that slewCressingham remains unwithered. "

While he spoke, Ker entered to ask permission to introduce a messengerfrom Earl de Warenne. Wallace gave consent. It was Sir Hugh le deSpencer, a near kinsman of the Earl of Hereford, the tumultoryconstable of England. He was the envoy who had brought the Prince ofWales' dispatches to Stirling. Wallace was standing when he entered, and so were the chieftains, but at his appearance they sat down. Wallace retained his position. 

"I come, " cried the Southron knight, "from the lord warden of Scotland, who, like my prince, too greatly condescends to do otherwise thancommand, where now he treats; I come to the leader of this rebellion, William Wallace, to receive an answer to the terms granted by theclemency of my master, the son of his liege lord, to this misledkingdom. "

"Sir Knight, " replied Sir William Wallace, "when the Southron lordsdelegate a messenger to me, who knows how to respect the representativeof the nation to which he is sent, and the agents of his own country, Ishall give them my reply. You may withdraw. "

The Southron stood, resolute to remain where he was; "Do you know, proud Scot, " cried he, "to whom you dare address this imperiouslanguage? I am the nephew of the lord high constable of England. "

"It is a pity, " cried Murray, looking coolly up from the table, "thathe is not here to take his kinsman into custody. "

Le de Spencer fiercely half drew his sword; "Sir, this insult-"

"Must be put up with, " cried Wallace, interrupting him, and motioningEdwin to lay his hand on the sword; "you have insulted the nation towhich you were sent on a peaceful errand; and having thus invited theresentment of every chief here present, you cannot justly complainagainst their indignation. But in consideration of your youth, andprobable ignorance of what becomes the character of an embassador, Igrant you the protection your behavior has forfeited. Sir AlexanderScrymgeour, " said he, turning to him, "you will guard Sir Hugh le deSpencer to the Earl de Warenne, and tell that nobleman I am ready toanswer any proper messenger. "

The young Southron, frowning, followed Scrymgeour from the hall, andWallace, turning to Murray, "My friend, " said he, "it is not well tostimulate insolence by repartee. This young man's speech, though aninsult to the nation, was directed to me, and by me only it ought tohave been answered, and that seriously. The haughty spirit of this manshould have been quelled, not incensed; and, had you proceeded one wordfurther, you would have given him an apparently just cause of complaintagainst you, and of that, my friend, I am most sensibly jealous. It isnot policy nor virtue to be rigorous to the extent of justice. "

"I know, " returned Murray, blushing, "that my wits are too many for me;ever throwing me, like Phaeton's horses, into the midst of some fierymischief. But pardon me now, and I promise to rein them close, whennext I see this prancing knight. "

"Bravo, my Lord Andrew!" cried Kirkpatrick, in an affected whisper, "Iam not always to be bird alone, under the whip of our regent; you havehad a few stripes, and now look a little of my feather!"

"Like as a swan to a vulture, good Roger, " answered Murray. 

Wallace attended not to this tilting of humor between the chieftains, but engaged himself in close discourse with the elder nobles at thehigher end of the hall. In half an hour Scrymgeour returned, and withhim Baron Hilton. He brought an apology from De Warenne, for thebehavior of his embassador; and added his persuasions to the demands ofEngland, that the regent would surrender Berwick, not only as a pledgefor the Scots keeping the truce on the borders, but as a proof of hisconfidence in Prince Edward. 

Wallace answered, that he had no reason to show extraordinaryconfidence in one who manifested, by such a requisition, that he had nofaith in Scotland; and therefore, neither as a proof of confidence, noras a gauge of her word, should Scotland, a victorious power, surrenderthe eastern door of her kingdom in the vanquished. Wallace declaredhimself ready to dismiss the English prisoners to the frontiers, and tomaintain the armistice till they had reached the south side of theCheviots. "But, " added he, "my word must be my bond, for by the honorof Scotland I will give no other. "

"Then, " answered Baron Hilton, with an honest flush passing over hischeek, as if ashamed of what he had next to say, "I am constrained tolay before you the last instructions of the Prince of Wales to Earl deWarenne. "

He took a royally sealed roll of vellum from his breast, and read aloud:

"Thus saith Edward, Prince of Wales, to Earl de Warenne, Lord Warden ofScotland. If that arch-rebel, William Wallace, who now assumeth tohimself the rule of all our royal father's hereditary dominions northof the Cheviots, refuseth to give unto us the whole possession of thetown and citadel of Berwick-upon-Tweed, as a pledge of his faith, tokeep the armistice on the borders from sea to sea: we command you totell him, that we shall detain under the ward of our good lieutenant ofthe Tower in London, the person of William the Lord Douglas, as a closecaptive, until our prisoners, now in Scotland, arrive safely atNewcastle-upon-Tyne. This mark of supremacy over a rebellious peoplewe owe as a pledge of their homage to our royal father; and as atribute of our gratitude to him for having allowed us to treat at allwith so undutiful a part of his dominions. 

"(Signed)

Edward, P. W. "

"Baron, " cried Wallace, "it would be beneath the dignity of Scotland, to retaliate this act with the like conduct. The exchange of prisonersshall yet be made, and the armistice held sacred on the borders. But, as I hold the door of war open in the interior of the country, beforethe Earl de Warenne leaves this citadel (and it shall be on the dayassigned), please the Almighty Lord of Justice, the Southron usurpersof all our castles on the eastern shore shall be our hostages for thesafety of Lord Douglas. "

"And this is my answer, noble Wallace?"

"It is; and you see no more of me till that which I have said is done. "

Baron Hilton withdrew. And Wallace, turning to his peers, rapidly madedispositions for a sweeping march from frith to frith; and having sentthose who were to accompany him to prepare for departure next day atdawn, he retired with the Lords Mar and Bothwell to arrange affairsrelative to the prisoners. 

Chapter XL. 

The Governor's Apartments. 

The sun rose on Wallace and his brave legions as they traversed theonce romantic glades of Strathmore; but now the scene was changed. Thevillages were abandoned, and the land lay around in uncultivatedwastes. Sheep, without a shepherd, fled wild from the approach of man;and wolves issued, howling, from the cloisters of depopulatedmonasteries. The army approached Dumblane; but it was withoutinhabitant; grass grew in the streets; and the birds which roosted inthe desert dwellings flew scared from the windows as the trumpet ofWallace sounded through the town. Loud echoes repeated the summonsfrom its hollow walls; but no other voice was heard, no human faceappeared; for the ravening hand of Cressingham had been there! Wallacesighed as he looked around him. "Rather smile, " cried Graham, "thatHeaven hath given you the power to say to the tyrants who have donethis, 'Here shall your proud waves be stayed!'"

They proceeded over many a hill and plain, and found that the samewithering touch of desolation had burned up and overwhelmed thecountry. Wallace saw that his troops were faint for want of food;cheering them, he promised that Ormsby should provide them a feast inPerth; and, with reawakened spirits, they took the River Tay at itsfords, and were soon before the walls of that well-armed city. But itwas governed by a coward, and Ormsby fled to Dundee at the first sightof the Scottish army. His flight might have warranted the garrison tosurrender without a blow, but a braver man being his lieutenant, sharpwas the conflict before Wallace could compel that officer to abandonthe ramparts and to sue for the very terms he had at first rejected. 

After the fall of Perth, the young regent made a rapid progress throughthat part of the country; driving the southron garrisons out of Scone, and all the embattled towns; expelling them from the castles ofKincain, Elcho, Kinfauns, and Doune; and then proceeding to the marinefortresses (those avenues by which the ships of England had poured itslegions on the eastern coast), he compelled Dundee, Cupar, Glamis, Montrose, and Aberdeen, all to acknowledge the power of his arms. Heseized most of the English ships in those ports, and manning them withScots, soon cleared the seas of the vessels which had escaped, takingsome, and putting others to flight; and one of the latter was thefugitive Ormsby. 

This enterprise achieved, Wallace, with a host of prisoners, turned hissteps toward the Forth; but ere he left the banks of the Tay and Dee, he detached three thousand men under the command of Lord Ruthven, giving him a commission to range the country from the Carse of Gowrieto remotest Sutherland, and in all that tract reduce every town andcastle which had admitted a Southron garrison. Wallace took leave ofLord Ruthven at Huntingtower, and that worthy nobleman, when heassumed, with the government of Perth, this extensive command, said, ashe grasped the regent's hand, "I say not, bravest of Scots, what is mygratitude for thus making me an arm of my country, but deeds will show!"

He then bade a father's adieu to his son, counseling him to regardWallace as the light in his path; and, embracing him, they parted. 

A rapid march, round by Fifeshire (through which victory followed theirsteps), brought the conqueror and his troops again within sight of thetowers of Stirling. It was on the eve of the day on which he hadpromised Earl de Warenne should see the English prisoners depart forthe borders. No doubt of his arriving at the appointed time wasentertained by the Scots or by the Southrons in the castle; the oneknew the sacredness of his word, and the other having felt his prowess, would not so far disparage their own as to suppose that any couldwithstand him by whom they were beaten. 

De Warenne, as he stood on the battlements of the keep, beheld fromafar the long line of Scottish soldiers as they descended the OchilHills. When he pointed it out to De Valence, that nobleman (who, inproportion as he wished to check the arms of Wallace, had flatteredhimself that it might happen), against the evidence of his eyesight, contradicted the observation of the veteran earl. 

"Your sight deceives you, " said he, "it is only the sunbeams playing onthe cliffs. "

"Then those cliffs are moving ones, " cried De Warenne, "which, I fear, have ground our countrymen on the coast to powder! We shall findWallace here by sunset, to show us how he has resented the affront ourill-advised prince cast on his jealous honor. "

"His honor, " returned De Valence, "is like that of his countrymen's-anenemy alike to his own interest and to that of others. Had it allowedhim to accept the crown of Scotland, and so have fought Edward with theconcentrating arm of a king; or would he even now offer peace to oursovereign, granting his prerogative as liege lord of the country, allmight go well; but as the honor you speak of prevents his using thesemeans of ending the contest, destruction must close his career. "

"And what quarrel, " demanded De Warenne, "can you, my Lord de Valence, have against this nice honor of Sir William Wallace, since you allow itsecures the final success of our cause?"

"His honor and himself are hateful to me!" impatiently answered DeValence; "he crosses me in my wishes, public and private; and for thesake of my king and myself, I might almost be tempted-" He turned paleas he spoke, and met the penetrating glance of De Warenne. He paused. 

"Tempted to what?" asked De Warenne. 

"To a Brutus mode of ridding the state of an enemy. "

"That might be noble in a Roman citizen, " returned De Warenne, "whichwould be villainous in an English lord, treated as you have been by agenerous victor, not the usurper of any country's liberties, but rathera Brutus in defense of his own. Which man of us all, from the generalto the meanest follower in our camps, has he injured?"

Lord Aymer frowned. "Did he not expose me, threaten me with anignominious death, on the walls of Stirling?"

"But was it before he saw the Earl of Mar, with his hapless family, brought, with halters on their necks, to be suspended from this verytower? Ah! what a tale has the lovely countess told me of that direfulscene! What he then did was to check the sanguinary Cressingham fromimbruiting his hands in the blood of female and infant innocence. "

"I care not, " cried De Valence, "what are or are not the offenses ofthis domineering Wallace, but I hate him; and my respect for hisadvocates cannot but correspond with that feeling. " As he spoke, thathe might not be further molested by the arguments of De Warenne, heabruptly turned away, and left the battlements. 

Pride would not allow the enraged earl to confess his private reasonsfor this vehement enmity against the Scottish chief. A conferencewhich he had held the preceding evening with Lord Mar, was the cause ofthis augmented hatred; and, from that moment, the haughty Southronvowed the destruction of Wallace, by open attack, or secret treachery. Ambition, and the base counterfeit of love, those two master passionsin untempered minds, were the springs of this antipathy. The instantin which he knew that the young creature whom at a distance hediscerned clinging around the Earl of Mar's neck in the streets ofStirling, was the same Lady Helen on whose account Lord Soulis hadpoured on him such undeserved invectives in Bothwell Castle; curious tohave a nearer view of one whose transcendent beauty he had often heardcelebrated by others, he ordered her to be immediately conveyed to hisapartments in the citadel. 

On their first interview he was more struck by her personal charms thanhe had ever been with any woman's, although few were so noted forgallantry in the English court as himself. He could hardly understandthe nature of his feelings while discoursing with her. To all othersof her sex he had declared his enamored wishes with as much ease asvivacity, but when he looked on Helen the admiration her lovelinessinspired was checked by an indescribable awe. No word of passionescaped his lips; he sought to win her by a deportment consonant withher own dignity of manner, and obeyed all her wishes, excepting whenthey pointed to any communication with her parents. He feared the waryeyes of the Earl of Mar. But nothing of this reverence of Helen wasgrounded on any principle within the heart of De Valence. His idea ofvirtue was so erroneous that he believed, by the short assumption ofits semblance, he might so steal on the confidence of his victim as toinduce her to forget all the world-nay, heaven itself-in his sophistryand blandishments. To facilitate this end he at first designed toprecipitate the condemnation of the earl, that he might be rid of afather's existence, holding, in dread of his censure, the perhapsotherwise yielding heart of his lovely intended mistress. 

The unprincipled and impure can have no idea what virtue or delicacyare other than vestments of disguise or of ornament, to be thrown offat will; and therefore, to reason with such minds is to talk to thewinds-to tell a man who is born blind to decide between two colors. Inshort, a libertine heart is the same in all ages of the world. DeValence, therefore, seeing the anguish of her fears for her father, andhearing the fervor with which she implored for his life, adopted theplan of granting the earl reprieves from day to day; and in spite ofthe remonstrances of Cressingham, he intended (after having worked uponthe terrors of Helen), to grant to her her father's release, oncondition of her yielding herself to be his. He had even meditatedthat the accomplishment of this device should have taken place the verynight in which Wallace's first appearance before Stirling had calledits garrison to arms. 

Impelled by vengeance against the man who had driven him from Dumbartonand from Ayr, and irritated at being delayed in the moment when hispassion was to seize its object, De Valence thought to end all by acoup de main-and rushing out of the gates, was taken prisoner. Suchwas the situation of things, when Wallace first became master of theplace. 

Now when the whole of the English army were in the same captivity withhimself, when he saw the lately proscribed Lord Mar, Governor ofStirling, and that the Scottish cause seemed triumphant on every side, De Valence changed his former illicit views on Helen, and bethought himof making her his wife. Ambition, as well as love, impelled him tothis resolution; and he foresaw that the vast influence which hismarriage with the daughter of Mar must give him in the country, wouldbe a decisive argument with the King of England. 

To this purpose, not doubting the Scottish's earl acceptance of such ason-in-law, on the very day that Wallace marched toward the coast, DeValence sent to request an hour's private audience of Lord Mar. Hecould not then grant it; but at noon, next day, they met in thegovernor's apartments. 

The Southron, without much preface, opened his wishes, and profferedhis hand for the Lady Helen. "I'll make her the proudest lady in GreatBritain, " continued he; "for she shall have a court in my Welshprovince, little inferior to that of Edward's queen. "

"Pomp would have no sway with my daughter, " replied the earl; "it isthe princely mind she values, not its pagentry. Whomsoever she prefersthe tribute will be paid to the merit of the object, not to his rank;and therefore, earl, should it be you, the greater will be your pledgeof happiness. I shall repeat to her what you have said; and to-morrowdeliver her answer. "

Not deeming it possible that it should be otherwise than favorable, DeValence allowed his imagination to roam over every anticipated delight. He exulted in the pride with which he would show this perfection ofnorthern beauty to the fair of England; how would the simple graces ofher seraphic form, which looked more like a being of air than of earth, put to shame the labored beauties of the court? And then it was notonly the artless charms of a wood-nymph he would present to thewondering throng, but a being whose majesty of soul proclaimed her highdescent and peerless virtues. How did he congratulate himself, incontemplating this unsullied temple of virgin innocence, that he hadnever, by even the vapor of one impassioned sigh, contaminated her pureear, or broken the magic spell, which seemed fated to crown him withhappiness unknown, with honor unexampled! To be so blessed, sodistinguished, so envied, was to him a dream of triumph, that waftedaway all remembrance of his late defeat; and he believed, in takingHelen from Scotland, he should bear away a richer prize than any hecould leave behind. 

Full of these anticipations, he attended the Governor of Stirling thenext day, to hear his daughter's answer. But unwilling to give theearl that advantage over him which a knowledge of his views in thematter might occasion, he affected a composure he did not feel; andwith a lofty air entered the room as if he were come rather to conferthan to beg a favor. This deportment did not lessen the satisfactionwith which the brave Scot opened his mission. 

"My lord, I have just seen my daughter. She duly appreciates the honoryou would confer on her; she is grateful for all your courtesies whilstshe was your prisoner, but beyond that sentiment, her heart, attachedto her native land, cannot sympathize with your wishes. "

De Valence started. He did not expect anything in the shape of adenial; but supposing that perhaps a little of his own art was tried bythe father to enhance the value of his daughter's yielding, he threwhimself into a chair, and affecting chagrin at a disappointment (whichhe did not believe was seriously intended), exclaimed with vehemence, "Surely, Lord Mar, this is not meant as a refusal? I cannot receive itas such, for I know Lady Helen's gentleness, I know the sweettenderness of her nature would plead for me, were she to see me at herfeet, and hear me pour forth the most ardent passion that ever burnedin a human breast. Oh, my gracious lord, if it be her attachment toScotland which alone militates against me, I will promise that her timeshall be passed between the two countries. Her marriage with me mayfacilitate that peace with England which must be the wish of us all;and perhaps the lord wardenship which De Warenne now holds may betransferred to me. I have reasons for expecting that it will be so;and then she, as a queen in Scotland, and you as her father, may claimevery distinction from her fond husband, every indulgence for theScots, which your patriot heart can dictate. This would be a certainbenefit to Scotland; while the ignis fatuus you are now following, however brilliant may be its career during Edward's absence, must onhis return be extinguished in disaster and infamy. "

The silence of the Earl of Mar, who, willing to hear all that was inthe mind of De Valence, had let him proceed uninterrupted, encouragedthe Southron lord to say more than he had at first intended to reveal;but when he made a pause, and seemed to expect an answer, the earlspoke:

"I am fully sensible of the honor you would bestow upon my daughter andmyself by your alliance; but, as I have said before, her heart is toodevoted to Scotland to marry any man whose birth does not make it hisduty to prefer the liberty of her native land, even before his love forher. That hope to see our country freed from a yoke unjustly laid uponher-that hope which you, not considering our rights, or weighing thepower that lies in a just cause, denominate an ignis fatuus, is theonly passion I believe that lives in the gentle bosom of my Helen; andtherefore, noble earl, not even your offers can equal the measure ofher wishes. "

At this speech De Valence bit his lip with real disappointment; andstarting from his chair now in unaffected disorder, "I am not to bedeceived, Lord Mar, " cried he; "I am not to be cajoled by the pretendedpatriotism of your daughter; I know the sex too well to be cheated withthese excuses. The ignis fatuus that leads your daughter from my arms, is not the freedom of Scotland, but the handsome rebel who conquers inits name! He is now fortune's minion, but he will fall, Lord Mar, andthen what will be the fate of his mad adherents?"

"Earl de Valence, " replied the veteran, "sixty winters have checked thetides of passion in my veins; but the indignation of my soul againstany insult offered to my daughter's delicacy, or to the name of thelord regent of Scotland is not less powerful in my breast. You are myprisoner, and I pardon what I could so easily avenge. I will evenanswer you, and say that I do not know of any exclusive affectionsubsisting between my daughter and Sir William Wallace; but this I amassured of, that were it the case, she would be more ennobled in beingthe wife of so true a patriot and so virtuous a man, than were sheadvanced to the bosom of an emperor. And for myself, were he to-morrowhurled by a mysterious Providence from his present nobly-won elevation, I should glory in my son were he such, and would think him as great ona scaffold as on a throne. "

"It is well that is your opinion, " replied De Valence, stopping in hiswrathful strides, and turning on Mar with vengeful irony; "cherishthese heroics, for you will assuredly see him so exalted. Then wherewill be his triumphs over Edward's arms and Pembroke's heart? Whereyour daughter's patriot husband; you glorious son? Start not, old man, for by all the powers of hell I swear that some eyes which now lookproudly on the Southron host, shall close in blood! I announce a fact!"

"If you do, " replied Mar, shuddering at the demoniac fire thatlightened from the countenance of De Valence, "it must be by the agencyof devils; and their minister, vindictive earl, will meet the vengeanceof the Eternal arm. "

"These dreams, " cried De Valence, "cannot terrify me. You are neithera seer, nor I a fool, to be taken by such prophecies. But were youwise enough to embrace the advantage I offer, you might be a prophet ofgood, greater than he of Ercildown, to your nation; for all that youcould promise, I would take care should be fulfilled. But you castfrom you your peace and safety; my vengeance shall therefore take itscourse. I rely not on oracles of heaven or hell; but I have pronouncedthe doom of my enemies; and though you now see me a prisoner, tremble, haughty Scot, at the resentment which lies in this head and heart. This arm perhaps needs not the armies of Edward to pierce you in yourboast!"

He left the room as he spoke; and Lord Mar, shaking his venerable headas he disappeared, said to himself: "Impotent rage of passion and ofyouth, I pity and forgive you. "

It was not, therefore, so extraordinary that De Valence, when he sawWallace descending the Ochil hills with the flying banners of newvictories, should break into curses of his fortune, and swear inwardlythe most determined revenge. 

Fuel was added to this fire at sunset, when the almost measurelessdefiles of prisoners, marshaled before the ramparts of Stirling, andtaking the usual oath to Wallace, met his view. 

"To-morrow we quit these dishonoring wall, " cried he to himself: "butere I leave them, if there be power in gold, or strength in my arm, heshall die!"

Chapter XLI. 

The State Prison. 

The regent's re-entrance into the citadel of Stirling, being on theevening preceding the day he had promised should see the English lordsdepart for their country, De Warenne, as a mark of respect to a manwhom he could not but regard with admiration, went to the barbican-gateto bid him welcome. 

Wallace appeared; and as the cavalcade of noble Southrons who hadlately commanded beyond the Tay, followed him, Murray glanced his eyearound, and said with a smile to De Warenne, "You see, sir earl, how weScots keep our word!" and then he added, "you leave Stirling to-morrow, but these remain till Lord Douglas opens their prison-doors. "

"I cannot but acquiesce in the justice of your commander'sdetermination, " returned De Warenne, "and to comfort these gentlemenunder their captivity, I can only tell them that if anything canreconcile them to the loss of liberty, it is being the prisoners of SirWilliam Wallace. "

After having transferred his captives to the charge of Lord Mar, Wallace went alone to the chamber of Montgomery, to see whether thestate of his wounds would allow him to march on the morrow. While hewas yet there, an invitation arrived from the Countess of Mar, requesting his presence at an entertainment which, by her husband'sconsent, she meant to give that night at Snawdoun, to the Southronlords before their departure for England. 

"I fear you dare not expend your strength on this party?" inquiredWallace, turning to Montgomery. 

"Certainly not, " returned he; "but I shall see you amidst your noblefriends, at some future period. When the peace your arms must win, isestablished between the two nations, I shall then revisit Scotland; andopenly declare my friendship for Sir William Wallace. "

"As these are your sentiments, " replied Wallace, "I shall hope that youwill unite your influence with that of the brave Earl of Gloucester, topersuade your king to stop this bloodshed; for it is no vain boast todeclare, that he may bury Scotland beneath her slaughtered sons, butthey never will again consent to acknowledge any right in an usurper. "

"Sanguinary have been the instruments of my sovereign's rule inScotland, " replied Montgomery; "but such cruelty is foreign to hisgallant heart; and without offending that high-souled patriotism, whichwould make me revere its possessor, were he the lowliest man in yourlegions, allow me, noblest of Scots, to plead one word in vindicationof him to whom my allegiance is pledged. Had he come hither, conductedby war alone, what would Edward have been worse than any otherconqueror? But on the reverse, was not his right to the supremacy ofScotland acknowledged by the princes who contended for the crown? Andbesides, did not all the great lords swear fealty to England, on theday he nominated their king?"

"Had you not been under these impressions, brave Montgomery, I believeI never should have seen you in arms against Scotland; but I willremove them by a simple answer. All the princes whom you speak of, excepting Bruce of Annandale, did assent to the newly offered claim ofEdward on Scotland; but who, amongst them, had any probable chance forthe throne, but Bruce or Baliol? Such ready acquiescence was meant tocreate them one. Bruce, conscious of his inherent rights, rejected theiniquitous demand of Edward; Baliol accorded with it, and was madeking. All our chiefs who were base enough to worship the rising sun, and, I may say, condemn the God of truth, swore to the falsehood. Others remained gloomily silent; and the bravest of them retired to theHighlands, where they dwell amongst their mountains, till the cries ofScotland called them again to fight her battles. 

"Thus did Edward establish himself as the liege lord of this kingdom;and whether the oppresion which followed were his or his agents'immediate acts, it matters not, for he made them his own by hisafter-conduct. When remonstrances were sent to London, he neitherpunished nor reprimanded the delinquents, but marched an armed forceinto our country, to compel us to be trampled on. It was not anAlexander nor a Charlemagne, coming in his strength to subdue ancientenemies, or to aggrandize his name, by vanquishing nations far remote, with whom he could have no affinity! Terrible as such ambition was, itis innocence to what Edward has done. He came, in the first instance, to Scotland as a friend; the nation committed its dearest interests tohis virtue; they put their hands into his and he bound them inshackles. Was this honor? Was this the right of conquest? The cheekof Alexander would have blushed deep as his Tyrian robe; and the faceof Charlemagne turned pale as the lilies, at the bare suspicion ofbeing capable of such a deed. 

"No, Lord Montgomery, it is not our conqueror we are opposing; it is atraitor, who, under the mask of friendship, has attempted to usurp ourrights, destroy our liberties, and make a desert of our once happycountry. This is the true statement of the case, and though I wish notto make a subject outrage his sovereign, yet truth demands of you tosay to Edward, that to withdraw his pretensions from this exhaustedcountry, is the restitution we may justly claim-is all that we wish. Let him leave us in peace, and we shall no longer make war upon him. But if he persist (which the ambassadors from the Prince of Walesannounce), even as Samson drew the temple upon himself, to destroy hisenemies, Scotland will discharge itself upon the valleys of England;and there compel them to share the fate in which we may be doomed toperish. "

"I will think of this discourse, " returned Montgomery, "when I am fardistant; and rely on it, noble Wallace that I will assert the privilegeof my birth, and counsel my king as becomes an honest man. "

"Highly would he estimate such counsel, " cried Wallace, "had he virtueto feel that he who will be just to his sovereign's enemies must be ofan honor that will bind him with double fidelity to his king. Suchproof give your sovereign; and, if he have one spark of that greatnessof mind which you say he possesses, though he may not adopt youradvice, he must respect the adviser. "

As Wallace pressed the hand of his new friend, to leave him to repose, a messenger entered from Lord Mar, to request the regent's presence inhis closet. He found him with Lord de Warenne. The latter presentedhim with another dispatch from the Prince of Wales. It was to say, that news had reached him of Wallace's design to attack the castlesgarrisoned by England, on the eastern coast. Should this informationprove true, he (the prince) declared that, as a punishment for suchincreasing audacity, he would put Lord Douglas into closer confinement;and while the Southron fleets would inevitably baffle Wallace'sattempts, the moment the exchange of prisoners was completed on theborders, an army from England should enter Scotland, and ravage it withfire and sword. 

When Wallace had heard this dispatch, he smile and said, "The deed isdone, my Lord de Warenne. Both the castles and the fleets are taken;and what punishment must we now expect from this terrible threatener?"

"Little from him, or his headlong counselors, " replied De Warenne; "butThomas Earl of Lancaster, the king's nephew, is come from abroad with anumerous army. He is to conduct the Scottish prisoners to the borders, and then to fall upon Scotland with all his strength, unless youpreviously surrender, not only Berwick, but Stirling, and the whole ofthe district between the Forth and the Tweed, into his hands. "

"My Lord de Warenne, " replied Wallace, "you can expect but one returnto these absurd demands. I shall accompany you myself to the Scottishborders, and there made my reply. "

De Warenne, who did indeed look for this answer, replied, "Ianticipated that such would be your determination, and I have to regretthat the wild counsels which surround my prince, precipitate him intoconduct which must draw much blood on both sides, before his royalfather's presence can regain what he has lost. "

"Ah, my lord, " replied Wallace, "is it to be nothing but war? Have younow a stronghold of any force in all the Highlands? Is not the greaterpart of the Lowlands free? And before this day month, not a rood ofland in Scotland is likely to hold a Southron soldier. We conquer, butit is for our own. Why then this unreceding determination to invadeus? Not a blade of grass would I disturb on the other side of theCheviot, if we might have peace. Let Edward yield to that, and thoughhe has pierced us with many wounds, we will yet forgive him. "

De Warenne shook his head; "I know my king too well to expect pacificmeasures. He may die with the sword in his hand; but he will nevergrant an hour's repose to this country till it submits to his scepter. "

"Then, " replied Wallace, "the sword must be the portion of him and his! Ruthless tyrant! If the blood of Abel called for vengeance on hismurderer, what must be the vials of wrath which are reserved for thee?"

A flush overspread the face of De Warenne at this apostrophe; andforcing a smile, "The strict notion of right, " said he, "is very wellin declamation, but how would it crop the wings of conquerors, andshorten the warrior's arm, did they measure by this rule!"

"How would it, indeed!" replied Wallace; "and that they should is mostdevoutly to be wished. All warfare that is not defensive is criminal;and he who draws his sword to oppress, or merely to aggrandize, is amurderer and a robber. This is the plain truth, Lord de Warenne. "

"I have never considered it in that light, " returned the earl, "norshall I turn philosopher now. I revere your principle, Sir WilliamWallace; but it is too sublime to be mine. Nay, nor would it bepolitic for one who holds his possessions in England by the right ofconquest to question the virtue of the deed. By the sword my ancestorsgained their estates; and with the sword I have no objection to extendmy territories. "

Wallace now saw that De Warenne, though a man of honor, was not one ofvirtue. Though his amiable nature made him gracious in the midst ofhostility, and his good dispositions would not allow him to actdisgracefull in any concern, yet duty to God seemed a poet's flight tohim. Educated in the forms of religion, without knowing its spirit, hedespised them; and believing the Deity too wise to be affected by merevirtuous shows of any kind, his ignorance of the sublime benevolence, which disdains not to provide food even for the "sparrow ere it falls, "made him think the Creator of all too great to care about the actionsof men; hence, being without the true principles of good-virtue, asvirtue, was nonsense to Earl de Warenne. 

Wallace did not answer his remark, and the conference soon closed. 

Chapter XLII. 

Chapel in Snawdoun. 

Though burning with stifled passions, Earl de Valence accepted theinvitation of Lady Mar. He hoped to see Helen, to gain her ear for afew minutes; and, above all, to find some opportunity during theentertainment of taking his meditated revenge on Wallace. The daggerseemed the surest way; for could he render the blow effectual, heshould not only destroy the rival of his wishes, but, by ridding hismonarch of a powerful foe, deserve every honor at the royal hands. Love and ambition again swelled his breast; and with recovered spirits, and a glow on his countenance, which reawakened hope had planted there, he accompanied De Warenne to the palace. 

The hall for the feast was arrayed with feudal grandeur. The seats atthe table, spread for the knights of both countries, were covered withhighly-wrought stuffs; while the emblazoned banners and other armorialtrophies of the nobles being hung aloft according to the degree of theowner, each knight saw his precedence, and where to take his place. The most costly means, with the royally attired peacock served up insilver and gold dishes, and wine of the rarest quality, sparkled on theboard. During the repast, two choice minstrels were seated in thegallery above, to sing the friendship of King Alfred of England withGregory the Great of Caledonia. The squires and other militaryattendants of the nobles present, were placed at tables in the lowerpart of the hall, and served with courteous hospitality. 

Resentful, alike at his captivity and thwarted passion, De Valence hadhitherto refused to show himself beyond the ramparts of the citadel; hewas therefore surprised, on entering the hall of Snawdoun with DeWarenne, to see such regal pomp; and at the command of the woman whohad so lately been his prisoner at Dumbarton, and whom (because sheresembled an English lady who had rejected him) he had treated with themost rigorous contempt. Forgetting these indignities, in the pride ofdisplaying her present consequence, Lady Mar came forward to receiveher illustrious guests. Her dress corresponded with the magnificenceof the banquet, a robe of cloth of Baudkins enriched, while itdisplayed, the beauties of her person; her wimple blazed with jewels, and a superb carkanet emitted its various rays from her bosom. **

**Cloth of Baudkins was one of the richest stuffs worn in thethirteenth century. It is said to have been composed of silkinterwoven with gold. The carkanet was a large broad necklace ofprecious stones of all colors, set in various shapes, and fastened bygold links into each other. 

De Warenne followed her with his eyes as she moved from him. With anunconscious sigh, he whispered to De Valence, "What a land is this, where all the women are fair, and the men all brave!"

"I wish that it, and all its men and women, were in perdition!"returned De valence, in a fierce tone. Lady Ruthven, entering with thewives and daughters of the neighboring chieftains, checked the furtherexpression of his wrath, and his eyes sought amongst them, but in vain, for Helen. 

The chieftains of the Scottish army, with the Lords Buchan and March, were assembled around the countess at the moment a shout from thepopulace without announced the arrival of the regent. His noble figurewas now disencumbered of armor; and with no more sumptuous garb thanthe simple plaid of his country, he appeared effulgent in manly beautyand the glory of his recent deeds. De Valence frowned heavily as helooked on him, and thanked his fortunate stars that Helen was absentfrom sharing the admiration which seemed to animate every breast. Theeyes of Lady Mar at once told the impassioned De Valence, too well readin the like expressions, what were her sentiments toward the youngregent; and the blushes and eager civilities of the ladies arounddisplayed how much they were struck with the now fully discerned andunequaled graces of his person. Lady mar forgot all in him. And, indeed, so much did he seem the idol of every heart, that, from the twovenerable lords of Loch-awe and Bothwell to the youngest man incompany, all ears hung on his words, all eyes upon his countenance. 

The entertainment was conducted with every regard to that chivalriccourtesy which a noble conqueror always pays to the vanquished. Indeed, from the wit and pleasantry which passed from the oppositesides of the tables, and in which the ever-gay Murray was the leader, it rather appeared a convivial meeting of friends than an assemblage ofmortal foes. During the banquet the bards sung legends of the Scottishworthies who had brought honor to their nation in days of old; and asthe board was cleared, they struck at once into a full chorus. Wallacecaught the sound of his own name, accompanied with epithets ofextravagant praise; he rose hastily from his chair, and with his handmotioned them to cease. They obeyed; but Lady mar remonstrating withhim, he smilingly said, it was an ill omen to sing a warrior's actionstill he were incapable of performing more; and therefore he begged shewould excuse him from hearkening to his. 

"Then let us change their strains to a dance, " replied the countess. 

"A hall! a hall!" cried Murray, springing from his seat, delighted withthe proposal. 

"I have no objection, " answered Wallace; and putting the hand shepresented to him into that of Lord de Warenne, he added, "I am not of asufficiently gay temperament to grace the change; but this earl may nothave the same reason for declining so fair a challenge!"

Lady Mar colored with mortification, for she had thought that Wallacewould not venture to refuse before so many; but following the impulseof De Warenne's arm, she proceeded to the other end of the hall, where, by Murray's quick arrangement, the younger lords of both countries hadalready singled out ladies, and were marshaled for the dance. 

As the hours moved on, the spirits of Wallace subsided from their usualcheering tone into a sadness which he thought might be noticed; andwishing to escape observation (for he could not explain to those gayones why scenes like these ever made him sorrowful), and whispering toMar that he would go for an hour to visit Montgomery, he withdrew, unnoticed by all but his watchful enemy. 

De Valence, who hovered about his steps, had heard him inquire of LadyRuthven why Helen was not present! He was within hearing of thiswhisper also, and, with a Satanic joy, the dagger shook in his hand. He knew that Wallace had many a solitary place to pass between Snawdounand the citadel; and the company being too pleasantly absorbed to markwho entered or disappeared, he took an opportunity, and stole out afterhim. 

But for once the impetuous fury of hatred met a temporarydisappointment. While De Valence was cowering like a thief under theeaves of the houses, and prowling along the lonely paths to thecitadel; while he started at every noise, as if it came to apprehendhim for his meditated deed, or rushed forward at the sight of anysolitary passenger, whom his eager vengeance almost mistook forWallace-Wallace himself had taken a different track. 

As he walked through the illuminated archways, which led from the hall, he perceived a darkened passage. Hoping by that avenue to quit thepalace, unobserved, he immediately struck into it; for he was aware, that should he go the usual way, the crowd at the gate would recognizehim, and he could not escape their acclamations. He followed thepassage for a considerable time, and at last was stopped by a door. Ityielded to his hand, and he found himself at the entrance of a largebuilding. He advanced, and passing a high screen of carved oak, by adim light, which gleamed from waxen tapers on the altar, he perceivedit to be the chapel. 

"A happy transition, " said he to himself, "from the jubilant scene Ihave now left; from the grievous scenes I have lately shared! Here, gracious God, " thought he, "may I, unseen by any other eye, pour out myheart to thee. And here, before thy footstool, will I declarethanksgiving for thy mercies; and with my tears wash from my soul theblood I have been compelled to shed!"

While advancing toward the altar, he was startled by a voice proceedingfrom the quarter whither he was going, and with low and gently-breathedfervor, uttering these words: "Defend him, Heavenly Father! Defend himday and night, from the devices of this wicked man; and, above all, during these hours of revelry and confidence, guard his unshieldedbreast from treachery and death. " The voice faltered, and added withgreater agitation, "Ah, unhappy me, that I should pluck peril on thehead of William Wallace!" A figure, which had been hidden by the railsof the altar, with these words rose, and stretching forth her claspedhands, exclaimed, "But Thou, who knowest I had no blame in this, wiltnot afflict me by his danger! Thou wilt deliver him, O God, out of thehand of this cruel foe!"

Wallace was not more astonished at hearing that some one in whom hetrusted, was his secret enemy, than at seeing Lady Helen in that placeat that hour, and addressing Heaven for him. There was something socelestial in the maid, as she stood in her white robes, true emblems ofher own innocence, before the divine footstool, that, although herprayers were delivered with a pathos which told they sprung from aheart more than commonly interested in their object, yet every word andlook breathed so eloquently the virgin purity of her soul, the hallowedpurpose of her petitions, that Wallace, drawn by the sympathy withwhich kindred virtues ever attract spirit to spirit, did not hesitateto discover himself. He stepped from the shadow which involved him. The pale light of the tapers shone upon his advancing figure. Helen'seyes fell upon him as she turned round. She was transfixed and silent. He moved forward. "Lady Helen, " said he, in a respectful and eventender voice. At the sound, a fearful rushing of shame seemed tooverwhelm her faculties; for she knew not how long he might have beenin the church, and that he had not heard her beseech Heaven to make himless the object of her thoughts. She sunk on her knees beside thealtar, and covered her face with her hands. 

The action, the confusion might have betrayed her secret to Wallace. But he only thought of her pious invocations for his safety; he onlyremembered that it was she who had given a holy grave to the only womanhe could ever love; and, full of gratitude, as a pilgrim would approacha saint, he drew near to her. "Holiest of earthly maids, " said he, kneeling down beside her, "in this lonely hour, in the sacred presenceof Almighty Purity, receive my soul's thanks for the prayers I havethis moment heard you breathe for me. They are more precious to me, Lady Helen, than the generous plaudits of my country; they are agreater reward to me than would have been the crown with which Scotlandsought to endow me, for do they not give me what all the worldcannot-the protection of Heaven?"

"I would pray for it, " softly answered Helen, but not venturing to lookup. 

"The prayer of meek goodness, we know, 'availeth much. ' Continue, then, to offer up that incense for me, " added he, "and I shall marchforth to-morrow with redoubled strength; for I shall think, holy maid, that I have yet a Marion to pray for me on earth as well as one inheaven. "

Lady Helen's heart beat at these words, but it was with no unhallowedemotion. She withdrew her hands from her face and, clasping them, looked up. "Marion will indeed echo all my prayers, and He who readsmy heart will, I trust, grant them. They are for your life, SirWilliam Wallace, " added she, turning to him with agitation, "for it ismenaced. "

"I will inquire by whom, " answered he, "when I have first paid my dutyat this altar for guarding it so long. And dare I, daughter ofgoodness, to ask you to unite the voice of your daughter of goodness, to ask you to unite the voice of your gentle spirit with the secret oneof mine? I would beseech Heaven for pardon on my own transgressions; Iwould ask of its mercy to establish the liberty of Scotland. Pray withme, Lady Helen, and the invocations our souls utter will meet thepromise of Him who said: 'Where two or three are joined together inprayer, there am I in the midst of them. '"

Helen looked on him with a holy smile; and pressing the crucifix whichshe held to her lips, bowed her head on it in mute assent. Wallacethrew himself prostrate on the steps of the altar; and the fervor ofhis sighs alone breathed to his companion the deep devotion of hissoul. How the time passed he knew not, so was he absorbed in thecommunion which his spirit held in heaven with the most gracious ofbeings. But the bell of the palace striking the matin hour, remindedhim he was yet on earth; and looking up his eyes met those of Helen. His devotional rosary hung on his arm; he kissed it. "Wear this, holymaid, " said he, "in remembrance of this hour!" She bowed her fairneck, and he put the consecrated chain over it. "Let it bear witnessto a friendship, " added he, clasping her hands in his, "which will becemented by eternal ties in heaven. "

Helen bent her face upon his hands; he felt the sacred tears of so purea compact upon them; and while he looked up, as if he thought thespirit of his Marion hovered near, to bless a communion so remote fromall infringement of the sentiment he had dedicated forever to her, Helen raised her head-and, with a terrible shriek, throwing her armsaround the body of Wallace, he, that moment, felt an assassin's steelin his back, and she fell senseless on his breast. He started on hisfeet; a dagger fell from his wound to the ground, but the hand whichhad struck the blow he could nowhere see. To search further was thenimpossible, for Helen lay on his bosom like dead. Not doubting thatshe had seen his assailant, and fainted from alarm, he was laying heron the steps of the altar, that he might bring some water from thebasin of the chapel to recover her, when he saw that her arm was notonly stained with his blood, but streaming with her own. The daggerhad gashed it in reaching him. 

"Execrable villain!" cried he, turning cold at the sight, and instantlycomprehending that it was to defend him she had thrown her arms aroundhim, he exclaimed, in a voice of agony, "Are two of the most matchlesswomen the earth ever saw to die for me!" Trembling with alarm, andwith renewed grief-for the terrible scene of Ellerslie was now broughtin all its horrors before him-he tore off her veil to staunch theblood; but the cut was too wide for his surgery; and, losing everyother consideration in fears for her life, he again took her in hisarms, and bore her out of the chapel. He hastened through the darkpassage, and almost flying along the lighted galleries, entered thehall. The noisy fright of the servants, as he broke through theirranks at the door, alarmed the revelers; and turning round, what wastheir astonishment to behold the regent, pale and streaming with blood, bearing in his arms a lady apparently lifeless, and covered with thesame dreadful hue!

Mar instantly recognized his daughter, and rushed toward her with a cryof horror. Wallace sunk, with his breathless load, upon the nearestbench; and, while her head rested on his bosom, ordered surgery to bebrought. Lady Mar gazed on the spectacle with a benumbed dismay. Nonepresent durst ask a question, till a priest drawing near, unwrapped thearm of Helen, and discovered its deep wound. 

"Who has done this?" cried her father, to Wallace, with all the anguishof a parent in his countenance. 

"I know not, " replied he; "but I believe, some villain who aimed at mylife. "

"Where is Lord de Valence?" exclaimed Mar, suddenly recollecting hismenaces against Wallace. 

"I am here, " replied he, in a composed voice; "would you have me seekthe assassin?"

"No, no, " cried the earl, ashamed of his suspicion; "but here has beensome foul work-and my daughter is slain. "

"Oh, not so!" cried Murray, who had hurried toward the dreadful group, and knelt at her side. "She will not die-so much excellence cannotdie. " A stifled groan from Wallace, accompanied by a look, told Murraythat he had known the death of similar excellence. With thisunanswerable appeal, the young chieftain dropped his head on the otherhand of Helen; and, could any one have seen his face buried as it wasin her robes, they would have beheld tears of agony drawn from thatevery-gay heart. 

The wound was closed by the aid of another surgical priest, who hadfollowed the former into the hall, and Helen sighed convulsively. Atthis intimation of recovery, the priest made all, excepting those whosupported her, stand back. But, as Lady Mar lingered near Wallace, shesaw the paleness of his countenance turn to a deadly hue, and his eyesclosing, he sunk back on the bench. Her shrieks now resounded throughthe hall, and, falling into hysterics, she was taken into the gallery;while the more collected Lady Ruthven remained to attend the victimsbefore her. 

At the instant Wallace fell, De Valence, losing all self-command, caught hold of De Warenne's arm, and whispering, "I thought it wassure-long live King Edward!" rushed out of the hall. These wordsrevealed to De Warenne who was the assassin; and though struck to thesoul with the turpitude of the deed, he thought the honor of Englandwould not allow him to accuse the perpetrator, and he remained silent. 

The inanimate form of Wallace was now drawn from under that of Helen;and, in the act, discovered the tapestry-seat clotted with blood, andthe regent's back bathed in the same vital stream. Having found hiswound, the priests laid him on the ground; and were administering theirbalsams, when Helen opened her eyes. Her mind was too stronglypossessed with the horror which had entered it before she becameinsensible, to lose the consciousness of her fears; and immediatelylooking around with an aghast countenance, her sight met theoutstretched body of Wallace. "Oh! is it so?" cried she, throwingherself into the bosom of her father. He understood what she meant. "He lives, my child! but he is wounded like yourself. Have courage;revive, for his sake and for mine!"

"Helen! Helen! dear Helen!" cried Murray, clinging to her hand; "whileyou live, what that loves you can die?"

While these acclamations surrounded her couch, Edwin, in speechlessapprehension, supported the insensible head of Wallace; and De Warenne, inwardly execrating the perfidy of De Valence, knelt down to assist thegood friars in their office. 

A few minutes longer, and the staunched blood refluxing to thechieftain's heart, he too opened his eyes; and instantly turning on hisarm-"What has happened to me? Where is Lady Helen?" demanded he. 

At his voice, which aroused Helen, who, believing that he was indeeddead, was relapsing into her former state; she could only press herfather's hand to her lips, as if he had given the life she so valued, and bursting into a shower of relieving tears, breathed out herrapturous thanks to God. Her low murmurs reached the ears of Wallace. 

The dimness having left his eyes, and the blood (the extreme loss ofwhich, from his great agitation, had alone caused him to swoon), beingstopped by an embalmed bandage, he seemed to feel no impediment fromhis wound; and rising, hastened to the side of Helen. Lord Mar softlywhispered his daughter-"Sir William Wallace is at your feet, my dearestchild; look on him, and tell him that you live. "

"I am well, my father, " returned she, in a faltering voice; "and may itindeed please the Almighty to preserve him!"

"I, too, am alive and well, " answered Wallace; "but thanks to God, andto you, blessed lady, that I am so! Had not that lovely arm receivedthe greater part of the dagger, it must have reached my heart. "

An exclamation of horror at what might have been burst from the lips ofEdwin. Helen could have re-echoed it, but she now held her feelingsunder too severe a rein to allow them so to speak. 

"Thanks to the Protector of the just, " cried she, "for yourpreservation! Who raised my eyes to see the assassin! His cloak washeld before his face, and I could not discern it; but I saw a daggeraimed at the bank of Sir William Wallace! How I caught it I cannottell, for I seemed to die on the instant. "

Lady Mar having recovered, re-entered the hall just as Wallace hadknelt down beside Helen. Maddened with the sight of the man on whomher soul doted, in such a position before her rival, she advancedhastily; and in a voice, which she vainly attempted to render composedand gentle, sternly addressed her daughter-in-law: "Alarmed as I havebeen by your apparent danger, I cannot but be uneasy at the attendantcircumstances; tell me, therefore, and satisfy this anxious company, how it happened that you should be with the regent, when we supposedyou an invalid in your room, and were told he was gone to the citadel?"

A crimson blush overspread the cheeks of Helen at this question, for itwas delivered in a tone which insinuated that something more thanaccident had occasioned their meeting, but as innocence dictated, sheanswered, "I was in the chapel at prayers; Sir William Wallace enteredwith the same design; and at the moment he desired me to mingle minewith his, this assassin appeared and (she repeated) I saw his daggerraised against our protector, and I saw no more. "

There was not a heart present that did not give credence to thisaccount, but the polluted one of Lady Mar. Jealousy almost laid itbare. She smiled incredulously, and turning to the company, "Our noblefriends will accept my apology, if in so delicate an investigation, Ishould beg that my family alone may be present. "

Wallace perceived the tendency of her words, and not doubting theimpression they might make on the minds of men ignorant of the virtuesof Lady Helen, he instantly rose. "For once, " cried he, "I mustcounteract a lady's orders. It is my wish, lords, that you will notleave this place till I explain how I came to disturb the devotions ofLady Helen. Wearied with festivities, in which my alienated heart canso little share, I thought to pass an hour with Lord Montgomery in thecitadel; and in seeking to avoid the crowded avenues of the palace, Ientered the chapel. To my surprise, I found Lady Helen there, I heardher pray for the happiness of Scotland, for the safety of herdefenders; and my mind being in a frame to join in such petitions, Iapologized for my unintentional intrusion, and begged permission tomingle my devotions with hers. Nay, impressed and privileged by thesacredness of the place, I presumed still further, and before the altarof purity poured forth my gratitude for the duties she had paid to theremains of my murdered wife. It was at this moment that the assassinappeared. I heard Lady Helen scream, I felt her fall on my breast, andat that instant the dagger entered my back. 

"This is the history of our meeting; and the assassin, whomsoever hemay be, and how long soever he was in the church, before he sought toperpetrate the deed-were he to speak, and capable of uttering truth, could declare no other. "

"But where is he to be found?" intemperately and suspiciously demandedLady mar. 

"If his testimony be necessary to validate mine, " returned Wallace, with dignity, "I believe the Lady Helen can point to his name. "

"Name him, Helen; name him, my dear cousin, " cried Murray, "that I mayhave some link with thee. O! let me avenge this deed! Tell me hisname! and so yield to me all that thou canst now bestow on AndrewMurray!"

There was something in the tone of Murray's voice that penetrated tothe heart of Helen. "I cannot name him whom I suspect to any but SirWilliam Wallace; and I would not do it to him, " replied she, "were itnot to warn him against future danger. I did not see the assassin'sface, therefore, how dare I set you to take vengeance on one whoperchance may be innocent? I forgive him, my blood, since Heaven hasspared to Scotland its protector. "

"If he be a Southron, " cried Baron Hilton, coming forward, "name him, gracious lady, and I will answer for it, that were he the son of aking, he would meet death from our monarch for this unknightly outrage. "

"I thank your zeal, brave chief, " replied she; "but I would not abandonto certain death even a wicked man. May he repent! I will name him toSir William Wallace alone; and when he knows his secret enemy, thevigilance of his own honor, I trust, will be his guard. Meanwhile, myfather, I would withdraw. " Then whispering to him, she was lifted inhis arms and Murray's and carried from the hall. 

As she moved away her eyes met those of Wallace. He arose; but shewaved her hand to him, with an expression in her countenance of anadieu so firm, yet so tender, that feeling as if he were parting from abeloved sister, who had just risked her life for him, and whom he mightnever see again, he uttered not a word to any that were present, butleaning on Edwin, left the hall by an opposite door. 

Chapter XLIII. 

The Carse of Stirling. 

Daybreak gleamed over the sky before the wondering spectators of thelate extraordinary scene had dispersed to their quarters. 

De Warenne was so well convinced by what had dropped from De Valence, of his having been the assassin, that when they met at sunrise to takehorse for the borders, he made him no other salutation than anexclamation of surprise, "not to find him under an arrest for the lastnight's work!"

"The wily Scot knew better, " replied De Valence, "than so to expose thereputation of the lady. He knew that she received the wound in hisarms, and he durst not seize me, for fear I should proclaim it. "

"He cannot fear that, " replied De Warenne, "for he has proclaimed ithimself. He has told every particular of his meeting with Lady Helenin the chapel, even her sheltering him with her arms; so there isnothing for you to declare but your own infamy. For infamous I mustcall it, Lord Aymer; and nothing but the respect I owe my country, prevents me pointing the eyes of the indignant Scots to you; nothingbut the stigma your exposure would bring upon the English name, couldmake me conceal the dead. "

De Valence laughed at this speech of De Warenne's. "Why, my lordwarden, " said he, "have you been taking lessons of this doughty Scot, that you talk thus? It was not with such sentiments you overthrew theprinces of Wales, and made the kings of Ireland fly before you! Youwould tell another story were your own interest in question; and I cantell you that any vengeance is not satisfied, I will yet see thebrightness of those eyes on which the proud daughter of Mar hangs sofondly, extinguished in death. Maid, or wife, Helen shall be torn fromhis arms, and if I cannot make her a virgin bride, she shall at leastbe mine as his widow; for I swear not to be disappointed. "

"Shame, De Valence! I should blush to owe my courage to rivalry, or myperseverance in the field to a licentious passion! You know what youhave confessed to me were once your designs on Helen Mar. "

"Every man according to his nature!" returned De Valence; and shrugginghis shoulders, he mounted his horse. 

The cavalcade of Southrons now appeared. They were met on the Carse bythe regent, who, not regarding the smart of a closing wound, advancedat the head of ten thousand men to see his prisoners over the borders. By Helen's desire, Lord Mar had informed Wallace what had been thethreats of De Valence, and that she suspected him to be the assassin. But this suspicion was put beyond a doubt by the evidence of thedagger, which Edwin had found in the chapel; its hilt was enameled withthe martlets of De Valence. 

At sight of it a general indignation filled the Scottish chiefs, andassembling round their regent, with one breath they demanded that thefalse earl should be detained and punished as became the honor ofnations, for so execrable a breach of all laws, human and divine. Wallace replied that he believed the attack to have been instigated bya personal motive, and therefore, as he was the object, not the stateof Scotland, he should merely acquaint the earl that his villainy wasknown, and let the shame of disgrace be his punishment. 

"Ah, " observed Lord Bothwell, "men who trample on conscience soon getover shame. "

"True, " replied Wallace, "but I suit my actions to my mind, not to myenemy's; and if he cannot feel dishonor, I will not so far disparagemyself as to think one so base worthy my resentment. "

While he was quieting the reawakened indignation of his nobles, whoseblood began to boil afresh at sight of the assassin, the Southronlords, conducted by Lord Mar, approached. When that nobleman drewnear, Wallace's first inquiry was for Lady Helen. The earl informedhim he had received intelligence of her having slept without fever, andthat she was not awake when the messenger came off with his goodtidings. That all was likely to be well with her was comfort toWallace; and, with an unruffled brow, riding up to the squadron ofSouthrons which was headed by De Warenne and De Valence, he immediatelyapproached the latter, and drawing out the dagger, held it toward him:"The next time, sir earl, " said he, "that you draw this dagger, let itbe with a more knightly aim than assassination!"

De Valence, surprised, took it in confusion, and without answer; buthis countenance told the state of his mind. He was humbled by the manhe hated; and while a sense of the disgrace he had incurred tore hisproud soul, he had not dignity enough to acknowledge the generosity ofhis enemy in again giving him a life which his treachery had so oftenforfeited. Having taken the dagger, he wreaked the exasperatedvengeance of his malice upon the senseless steel, and breaking itasunder, threw the pieces into the air; while turning from Wallace withan affected disdain, he exclaimed to the shivered weapon, "You shallnot betray me again!"

"Nor you betray our honors, Lord de Valence, " exclaimed Earl deWarenne; "and therefore, though the nobleness of the William Wallaceleaves you at large after this outrage on his person, we will assentour innocence of connivance with the deed; and, as lord warden of thisrealm, I order you under arrest till we pass the Scottish lines. "

"'Tis well, " cried Hilton, "that such is your determination, my lord, else no honest man could have continued in the same company with onewho has so tarnished the English name. "

"No!" cried his brother baron, venerable Blenkinsopp, reining up hissteed; "I would forfeit house and lands first. "

De Valence, with an ironical smile, looked toward the squadron, whichapproached to obey De Warenne, and haughtily answered, "Though it bedishonor to march with me out of Scotland, the proudest of you all willdeem it an honor to be allowed to return with me hither. I have an eyeon those who stand with cap in hand to rebellion. And for you, SirWilliam Wallace, " added he, turning to him, who was also curbing hisimpatient charger, "I hold no terms with a rebel; and deem all honorthat would rid my sovereign and the earth of such lowborn arrogance. "

Before Wallace could answer he saw De Valence struck from his horse bythe Lochaberax of Edwin. Indignant at the insult offered to hisbeloved commander, he had suddenly raised his arm, and aiming a blowwith all his strength, the earl was immediately stunned andprecipitated to the ground. 

At sight of the fall of the Southron chief, the Scottish troops, awareof there being some misunderstanding between their regent and theEnglish lords, uttered a shout. Wallace, to prevent accidents, sentinstantly to the lines, to appease the tumult, and throwing himself offhis horse, hastened to the prostrate earl. A fearful pause reignedthroughout the Southron ranks. They did not know but that the enragedScots would now fall on them, and, in spite of their regent, exterminate them on the spot. The troops were running forward whenWallace's messengers arrived and checked them, and himself, calling toEdwin, stopped his further chastisement of the recovering earl. 

"Edwin, you have done wrong, " cried he; "give me that weapon which youhave sullied by raising it against a prisoner totally in our power. "

With a vivid blush the noble boy resigned the weapon to his general;yet, with an unappeased glance on the prostrate De Valence, heexclaimed, "But have you not granted life twice to this prisoner? andhas he not, in return, raised his hand against his life and Lady Helen? You pardon him again! and in the moment of your clemency, he insultsthe Lord Regent of Scotland in the face of both nations! I could nothear this and live without making him feel that you have those aboutyou who will not forgive such crimes. "

"Edwin, " returned Wallace, "had not the lord regent power to punish?And if he see right to hold his hand, those who strike for him invadehis dignity. I should be unworthy the honor of protecting a bravenation, did I stoop to tread on every reptile that stings me in mypath. Leave Lord de Valence to the sentence his commander haspronounced, and as an expiation for your having offended both militaryand moral law this day, you must remain at Stirling till I return intoScotland. "

De Valence, hardly awake from the stupor which the blow of thebattle-ax had occasioned (for indignation had given to the youngwarrior the strength of manhood), was raised from the ground; and soonafter coming to himself and being made sensible of what had happened, he was taken, foaming with rage and mortification, into the center ofthe Southron lines. 

Alarmed at the confusion he saw at a distance, Lord Montgomery orderedhis litter round from the rear to the front, and hearing all that hadpassed, joined with De Warenne in pleading for the abashed Edwin. 

"His youth and zeal, " cried Montgomery, "are sufficient to excuse theintemperance of the deed. "

"No!" interrupted Edwin; "I have offended and I will explate. Only, myhonored lord, " said he, approaching Wallace, while he checked theemotion which would have flowed from his eyes, "when I am absent, sometimes remember that it was Edwin's love which hurried him to thisdisgrace. "

"My dear Edwin, " returned Wallace, "there are many impetuous spirits inScotland who need the lesson I now enforce upon you; and they will bebrought to maintain the law of honor when they see that their regentspares not its slightest violation, even when committed by his bestbeloved friend. Farewell till we meet again!"

Edwin kissed Wallace's hand in silence-it was not wet with histears-and drawing his bonnet hastily over his eyes, he retired into therear of Lord Mar's party. That nobleman soon after took leave of theregent, who, placing himself at the head of his legions, the trumpetsblew the signal of march. Edwin, at the sound which a few minutesbefore he would have greeted with so much joy, felt his grief-swollenheart give way; he sobbed aloud, and striking his heel on the side ofhis horse, galloped to a distance, to bide from all eyes the violenceof his regrets. The trampling of the departing troops rolled over theground like receding thunder. Edwin at last stole a look toward theplain; he beheld a vast cloud of dust, but no more the squadrons of hisfriend. 

Chapter XLIV. 

The Cheviots. 

As Wallace pursued his march along the once fertile and well-peopledvalleys of Clydesdale, their present appearance affected him like thesight of a friend whom he had seen depart in all the graces of youthand prosperity, but met again overcome with disease and wretchedness. 

The pastures of Carstairs on the east of the river, which used at thisseason to be whitened with sheep, and sending forth the lowings ofabundant cattle; and the vales, which had teemed with reapers rejoicingin the harvest, were now laid waste and silent. The plain presentedone wide flat of desolation. Where once was the enameled meadow, adreary swamp extended its vapory surface; and the road which a happypeasantry no longer trod, lay choked up with thistles and rank grass;while birds and animals of chase would spring from its thickets, on thelonely traveler, to tell him by their wild astonishment that he wasdistant from even the haunts of men. The remains of villages werevisible; but the blackness of ashes marked the walls of the ruineddwellings. 

Wallace felt that he was passing through the country in which hisMarion had been rifled of her life; and as he moved along, nature allaround seemed to have partaken of her death. As he rode over the moorswhich led toward the district of Crawford Lammington, those hillsamidst which the beloved of his soul first drew breath, he becametotally silent. Time rolled back; he was no longer the Regent ofScotland, but the fond lover of Marion Braidfoot. His heart beat as itwas wont to do in turning his horse down the defile which led direct toLammington; but the scene was completely changed; the groves in whichhe had so often wandered with her were gone; they had been cut down forthe very purpose of destroying that place, which had once been theabode of beauty and innocence, and of all the tender charities. 

One shattered tower alone remained of the house of Lammington. Thescathing of fire embrowned its sides, and the uprooted garden markedwhere the ravager had been. While his army marched before him alongthe heights of Crawford, Wallace slowly moved forward, musing on thescene. In turning the angle of a shattered wall, his horse started;and the next moment he perceived an aged figure, with a beard white assnow, and wrapped in a dark plaid, emerging from the ground. At sightof the apparition, Murray, who accompanied his friend, and had hithertokept silent, suddenly exclaimed, "I conjure you, honest Scot, ghost orman, give us a subject for conversation! and, as a beginning, pray tellme to whom this ruined tower belonged?"

The sight of two warriors in the Scottish garb encouraged the old man;and stepping out on the ground, he drew near to Murray. "Ruined, indeed, sir, " replied he; "and its story is very sad. When theSouthrons, who hold Annandale, heard of the brave acts of Sir WilliamWallace, they sent an army to destroy this castle and domains, whichare his, in right of the Lady Marion of Lammington. Sweet creature! Ihear they foully murdered her in Lanark. "

Murray was smitten speechless at this information; for had he suspectedthere was any private reason with Wallace for his silent lingeringabout this desolate spot, he would rather have drawn him away than havestopped to ask questions. 

"And did you know Lady Marion, venerable old man?" inquired Wallace, ina voice so descriptive of what was passing in his heart, that the oldman turned toward him; and struck with his noble mien, he pulled offhis bonnet, and bowing, answered, "Did I know her? She was nursed onthese knees. And my wife, who cherished her sweet infancy, is nowwithin yon brae. It is our only home, for the Southrons burnt us outof the castle, where our young lady left us, when she went to bemarried to the brave young Wallace. He was as handsome a youth as everthe sun shone upon, and he loved my lady from a boy. I never shallforget the day when she stood on the top of that rock, and let agarland he had made for her fall into the Clyde. Without more ado, never caring because it is the deepest here of any part of the river, he jumps in after it, and I after him; and well I did, for when Icaught him by his bonny golden locks, he was insensible. His head hadstruck against a stone in the plunge, and a great cut was over hisforehead. God bless him, a sorry scar it left! but many, I warrant, have the Southrons now made on his comely countenance. I have neverseen him since he grew a man. "

Gregory, the honest steward of Lammington, was now recognized in thisold man's narration; but time and hardship had so altered hisappearance, that Wallace could not have otherwise recollected the ruddyface and active figure of his well-remembered companion, in the shakinglimbs and pallid visage of the hoary speaker. When he ended, the chiefthrew himself from his horse. He approached the old man; with one handhe took off his helmet, and with the other putting back the same goldenlocks, he said, "Was the scar you speak of anything like this?" Hisface was now close to the eye of Gregory, who in the action, the words, and the mark, immediately recognizing the young playmate of hishappiest days, with an almost shriek of joy, threw himself on his neckand wept; then looking up, with tears rolling over his cheeks, heexclaimed, "O Power of Mercy, take me to thyself, since my eyes haveseen the deliverer of Scotland!"

"Not so, my venerable friend, " returned Wallace; "you must make thesedesolated regions bloom anew! Decorate them, Gregory, as you would dothe tomb of your mistress. I give them to you and yours. Marion and Ihave no posterity! Let her foster-brother, if he still live-let him benow the Laird of Lammington. "

"He does live, " replied the old man, "but the shadow of what he was. In attempting, with a few resolute lads, to defend these domains, hewas severely wounded. His companions were slain, and I found him onthe other side of my lady's garden left for dead. We fled with him tothe woods, and there remained till all about here was laid in ashes. Finding the cruel Southrons had made a general waste, yet fearful offresh incursions, we and others who had been driven from their homes, dug us subterraneous dwellings, and ever since have lived like fairiesin the green hillside. My son and his young wife and babes are now inour cavern, but reduced by sickness and want, for famine is here. Alas, the Southrons, in conquering Scotland, have not gained a kingdom, but made a desert!"

"And there is a God who marks, " returned Wallace; "I go to reap theharvests of Northumberland. What our enemies have ravished hence inpart they shall refund; a few days, and your granaries shall overflow. Meanwhile, I leave you with my friend, " said he, pointing to Murray, "at the head of five hundred men. To-morrow he may commence thereduction of every English fortress that yet casts a shade on thestream of our native Clyde; for when the sun next rises, the Southronswill have passed the Scottish borders and then the truce expires. "

Gregory fell at his feet, and begged that he be allowed to bring hisNannie to see the husband of her once dear child. 

"Not now, " replied Wallace, "I could not bear the interview-she shallsee me when I return. "

He then spoke apart to Murray, who cheerfully acquiesced in acommission that promised him not only the glory of being a conqueror, but the private satisfaction, he hoped, of driving the Southrongarrison out of his own paternal castle. To send such news to hisnoble father at Stirling, would indeed be a wreath of honor to his agedand yet warlike brow. It was then arranged between the young chief andhis commander that watchtowers should be thrown up on every conspicuouseminence which skirted the Scottish borders; whence concerted signalsof victories, or other information, might be severally interchanged. These preliminaries adjusted, the regent's bugle brought Ker and SirJohn Graham to his side. The appointed number of men was left withMurray; and Wallace, joining his other chieftains, bade his friend andhonest servant adieu. 

He now awakened to a sense of the present scene, and speeded hislegions over his and dale, till they entered on the once luxuriantbanks of the Annan-this territory of some of the noblest in Scotland, till Bruce, their chief, deserted them. It lay in more terrific ruinthan even the tracts he had left. There reigned the silence of thetomb; there existed the expiring agonies of men left to perish. Recentmarks of devastation smoked from the blood-stained earth; and in themidst of a barren waste, a few houseless wretches rushed forward at thesight of the regent, threw themselves before his horse, and begged amorsel of food for their famishing selves and dying infants. "look, "cried an almost frantic mother, holding toward him the living skeletonof a child; "my husband was slain by the Southrons, who hold LochmabenCastle; my subsistence was carried away, and myself turned forth, togive birth to this child on the rocks. We have fed till this hour onthe wild berries; but I die, and my child expires before me!" A secondgroup, with shrieks of despair, cried aloud, "Here are our young onesexposed to equal miseries. Give us bread, Regent of Scotland, or weperish!"

Wallace turned to his troops: "Fast for a day, my brave friends, " criedhe; "lay the provisions you have brought with you before these haplesspeople. To-morrow you shall feed largely on Southron tables. "

He was instantly obeyed. As his men marched on, they threw theirloaded wallets amongst the famishing groups; and, followed by theirblessings, descended with augmented speed the ravaged hills ofAnnandale. Dawn was brightening the dark head of Brunswark, as theyadvanced toward the Scottish boundary. At a distance, like a wreath ofwhite vapors, lay the English camp, along the southern bank of the Esk. At this sight, Wallace ordered his bugles to sound. They wereimmediately answered by those of the opposite host. The heralds ofboth armies advanced, and the sun rising from behind the eastern hills, shone full upon the legions of Scotland, winding down the romanticprecipices of Wauchope. 

Two hours arranged every preliminary to the exchange of prisoners; andwhen the clarion of the trumpet announced that each party was to passover the river to the side of its respective country, Wallace stood inthe midst of his chieftains to receive the last adieus of hisillustrious captives. When De Warenne approached, the regent took offhis helmet; the Southron had already his in his hand. "Farewell, gallant Scot, " said he, "if aught could imbitter this moment ofrecovered freedom, it is that I leave a man I so revere, stillconfident in a finally hopeless cause!"

"It would not be the less just were it indeed desparate, " repliedWallace; "but had not Heaven shown on which side it fought, I shouldnot now have the honor of thus bidding the brave De Warenne farewell. "

The earl passed on, and the other lords, with grateful and respectfullooks, paid their obeisance. The litter of Montgomery drew near-thecurtains were thrown open-Wallace stretched out his hand to him: "Theprayers of sainted innocence are thine!"

"Never more shall her angel spirit behold me here, as you now beholdme, " returned Montgomery; "I must be a traitor to virtue, before I everagain bear arms against Sir William Wallace!"

Wallace pressed his hand, and they parted. 

The escort which guarded De Valence advanced; and the proud earl, seeing where his enemy stood, took off his gauntlet, and throwing itfiercely toward him, exclaimed, "Carry that to your minion Ruthven, andtell him the hand that wore it will yet be tremendously revenged!"

As the Southron ranks filed off toward Carlisle, those of the returningScottish prisoners approached their deliverer. Now it was that thefull clangor of joy burst from every breast and triumph-breathinginstrument in the Scottish legions; now it was that the echoes rungwith loud huzzas of "Long live the valiant Wallace, who brings ournobles out of captivity! Long live our matchless regent!"

As these shouts rent the air, the Lords Badenoch and Athol drew near. The princely head of the former bent with proud acknowledgement to themild dignity of Wallace. Badenoch's penetrating eye saw that it wasindeed the patriotic guardian of his country to whom he bowed, and notthe vain affector of regal power. At his approach, Wallace alightedform his horse, and received his offered hand and thanks with everygrace inherent in his noble nature. "I am happy" returned he, "to havebeen the instrument of recalling to my country one of the princes ofher royal blood. " "And while one drop of it exists in Scotland, "replied Badenoch, "its possessors must acknowledge the bravest of ourdefenders in Sir William Wallace. "

Athol next advanced, but his gloomy countenance contradicted his wordswhen he attempted to utter a similar sense of obligation. Sir JohnMonteith was eloquent in his thanks. And Sir William Maitland was notless sincere in his gratitude, than Wallace was in joy, at having givenliberty to so near a relation of Helen Mar. The rest of the captiveScots, to the number of several hundred, were ready to kiss the feet ofthe man who thus restored them to their honors, their country, andtheir friends, and Wallace bowed his happy head under a shower ofblessings which poured on him from a thousand grateful hearts. 

In pity to the wearied travelers, he ordered tents to be pitched; andfor the sake of their distant friends, he dispatched a detachment tothe top of Langholm Hill, to send forth a smoke in token to theClydesdale watch, of the armistice being ended. He had hardly seen itascend the mountain, when Graham arrived from reconnoitering, and toldhim that an English army of great strength was approaching by the footof the more southern hills, to take the reposing Scots by surprise. 

"They shall find us ready to receive them, " was the prompt reply ofWallace; and his actions were ever the companions of his words. Leaving the new-arrived Scots to rest on the banks of the Esk, he puthimself at the head of five thousand men; and dispatching a thousandmore, with Sir John Graham, to pass the Cheviots, and be in ambush toattack the Southrons when he should give the signal, he marched swiftlyforward, and soon fell in with some advanced squadrons of the enemy, amongst the recesses of those hills. Little expecting such arencounter, they were marching in defiles upon the lower ridgy craigs, to avoid the swamps which occupied the broader way. 

At sight of the Scots, Lord Percy, the Southron commander, ordered aparty of his archers to discharge their arrows. The artillery of warbeing thus opened afresh, Wallace drew his bright sword, and waving itbefore him, just as the sun set, called aloud to his followers. Hisinspiring voice echoed from hill to hill; and the higher detachments ofthe Scots, pouring downward with the resistless impetuosity of theirown mountain streams, precipitated their enemies into the valley; whileWallace, with his pikemen, charging the horses in those slippery paths, drove the terrified animals into the morasses, where some sunk at once, and others, plunging, threw their riders, to perish in the swamp. 

Desperate at the confusion which now ensued, as his archers fellheadlong from the rocks, and his cavalry lay drowning before him, LordPercy called up his infantry; they appeared, but though ten thousandstrong, the determined Scots met their first ranks breast to breast;and leveling them with their companions, rushed on the rest with theforce of a thunder-storm. It was at this period, that the signal wasgiven from the horn of Wallace; and the division of Graham, meeting theretreating Southrons as they attempted to form behind the hill, completed their defeat. The slaughter became dreadful, the victorydecisive. Sir Ralph Lattimer, the second in command, was killed in thefirst onset; and Lord Percy himself, after fighting as became his bravehouse, fled, covered with wounds, toward Alnwick. 

Chapter XLV. 

Lochmaben Castle. 

This being the seasons of harvest in the northern counties of England, Wallace carried his reapers, not to lay their sickle to the field, but, with their swords, to open themselves a way into the Southron granaries. 

The careful victor, meanwhile, provided for the wants of his friends onthe other side of the Esk. The plunder of Percy's camp was dispatchedto them; which being abundant in all kinds of provisions, was more thansufficient to keep them in ample store till they could reach Stirling. From that point, the released chiefs had promised their regent theywould disperse to their separate estates, collect recruits, and reducethe distracted state of the country into some composed order. Wallacehad disclosed his wish, and mode of effecting this renovation of publichappiness, before he left Stirling. It contained a plan of militaryorganization, by which each youth, able to bear arms, should not onlybe instructed in the dexterous use of the weapons of war, but in theduties of subordination, and above all, have the nature of the rightsfor which he was to contend explained to him. 

"They only require to be thoroughly known, to be regarded asinestimable, " added he; "but while we raise around us the best bulwarkof any nation, a brave and well-disciplined people; while we teach themto defend their liberties, let us see that they deserve them. Let thembe men, contending for virtuous independence; not savages, fighting forlicentious unrestraint. We must have our youth of both sexes, in townsand villages, from the castle to the cot, taught the saving truths ofChristianity. From that root will branch all that is needful to makethem useful members of the state-virtuous and happy. And, while war isin our hands, let us in all things prepare for peace, that the swordmay gently bend into the sickle, the dirk to the pruning-hook. "

There was an expansive providence in all this, a concentrating plan ofpublic weal, which few of the nobles had ever even glanced at, as adesign conceivable for Scotland. There were many of these warriorchiefs who could not even understand it. 

"Ah! my lords, " replied he to their warlike objections, "deceive notyourselves with the belief that by the mere force of arms, a nation canrender itself great and secure. Industry, temperance, and disciplineamongst the people; with moderation and justice in the higher orders, are the only aliments of independence. They bring you riches andpower, which make it the interest of those who might have been yourenemies to court your friendship. "

The graver council at Stirling had received his plan with enthusiasm. And when, on the day of his parting with the released chiefs on thebanks of the Esk, with all the generous modesty of his nature, hesubmitted his design to them, rather to obtain their approbation asfriends, than to enforce it with the authority of a regent; when theysaw him, thus coming down from the dictatorship to which his unrivaledtalents had raised him, to equal himself still with them, all werestruck with admiration, and Lord Badenoch could not but mentallyexclaim, "The royal qualities of this man can well afford this expenseof humility. Bend as he will, he has only to speak, to show hissuperiority over all, and to be sovereign again. "

There was a power in the unostentatious virtues of Wallace, which, declaring themselves rather in their effects than by display, subduedthe princely spirit of Badenoch; and, while the proud chief recollectedhow he had contemned the pretensions of Bruce, and could not brook theelevation of Baliol; how his soul was in arms when, after he had beenpersuaded to acknowledge the supremacy of Edward, the throne was givento one of his rivals; he wondered at himself to find that his veryheart bowed before the gentle and comprehensive wisdom of an untitledregent. 

Athol alone, of the group, seemed insensible to the benefits hiscountry was deriving from its resistless protector; but he expressedhis dissent from the general sentiment with no more visible sign than acold silence. 

When the messenger from Wallace arrived on the banks of the Esk with solarge a booty, and the news of his complete victory over the gallantPercy, the exultation of the Scottish nobles knew no bounds. 

On Badenoch opening the regent's dispatches, he found they repeated hiswish for his brave coadjutors to proceed to the execution of the planthey had sanctioned with their approbation; they were to march directlyfor Stirling, and on their way dispense the superabundance of theplunder amongst the perishing inhabitants of the land. He theninformed the earl, that while the guard he had left him with wouldescort the liberated Scots beyond the Forth, the remainder of thetroops should be thus disposed: Lord Andrew Murray was to remain chiefin command in Clydesdale; Sir Eustace Maxwell, to give up the wardshipof Douglas to Sir John Monteith; and then advance into Annandale, toassist Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, who must now have begun the reduction ofthe castles in the west of that province. At the close of thisaccount, Wallace added, that himself, with his brave band, were goingto traverse the English counties to the Tees' mouth; and should Heavenbless his arms, he would send the produce round by the Berwick fleet, to replenish the exhausted stores of the Highlands. "Next year, "continued he, "I trust they will have ample harvests of their own. "

And what Wallace said he hoped to do, he did. 

The Southrons' country was panic-struck at the defeat of Percy, hisbeaten army, flying in all directions before the conquering legions, gave such dreadful and hyperbolical accounts of their might, and of thegiant prowess of their leader, that as soon as ever the Scottish spearswere seen rising the summit of any hill, or even gleaming along thehorizon, every village was deserted, every cot left without inhabitant;and corn, and cattle, and every kind of property fell into the hands ofthe Scots. 

Lord Precy lay immovable with wounds in his castle at Alnwick;** andhis hopeless state, by intimidating his followers, contradicted theorders he gave, to face the marauding enemy. Several times theyattempted to obey, but as often showed their inability. They collectedunder arms; but the moment their foe appeared, they fled within thecastle walls, or buried themselves in deep obscurities amongst thesurrounding hills. Not a sheaf in the fields of Northumberland did theScots leave, to knead into bread for its earl; not a head of cattle tosmoke upon his board. The country was sacked from sea to sea. But fardifferent was its appearance from that of the trampled valleys ofScotland. There, fire had burned up the soil; the hand of violence hadleveled the husbandman's cottage; had buried his implements in theruins; had sacrificed himself on its smoking ashes! There, thefatherless babe wept its unavailing wants, and at its side sat thedistracted widow, wringing her hands in speechless misery; for therelay her murdered husband-here, her perishing child!

**This famous castle, of so many heroic generations, is still theprincely residence of the head of the house of Percy. 

With such sights the heart of Wallace had been pierced, when he passedthrough the lowland counties of his country; nay, as he scoured thehighland districts of the Grampians, even there had he met the foot ofbarbarian man, and cruel desolation. For thus it was that the Southrongarrisons had provisional themselves; by robbing the poor of theirbread; and, when they resisted, firing their dwellings, and punishingthe refractory with death. 

But not so the generous enmity of Sir William Wallace. His commissionwas, not to destroy, but to save; and though he carried his victoriousarmy to feed on the Southron plains, and sent the harvests of Englandto restore the wasted fields of Scotland, yet he did no more. No fireblasted his path; no innocent blood cried against him from the ground!When the impetuous zeal of his soldiers, flushed with victory, and inthe heat of vengeance, would have laid several hamlets in ashes, heseized the brand from the destroying party, and throwing it into anadjoining brook: "Show yourselves worthy the advantages you havegained, " cried he, "by the moderation with which you use them. Consider yourselves as the soldiers of the all powerful God, who alonehas conducted you to victory; for, with a few, has he not enabled us tosubdue a host? Behave as becomes your high destiny; and debase notyourselves by imitating the hirelings of ambition, who receive, as thewages of their valor, the base privilege to ravage and to murder. 

"I wish you to distinguish between a spirit of reprisal, in what I do, and that of retaliation, which actuates your present violence. Whatour enemies had robbed us of, as far as they can restore, I take again. Their bread shall feed our famishing country; their wool clothe itsnakedness. But blood for blood, unless the murderer could be made tobleed, is a doctrine abhorrent to God and to humanity. What justice isthere in destroying the habitations and lives of a set of harmlesspeople, because the like cruelty has been committed by a lawless armyof their countrymen, upon our unoffending brethren? Your hearts maymake the answer. But if they are hardened against the pleadings ofhumanity, let prudence show your interest in leaving those men alive, and with their means unimpaired, who will produce other harvests, ifneed be, to fill our scantier granaries. 

"Thus I reason with you, and I hope many are convinced; but they whoare insensible to argument must fear authority, and I declare thatevery man who inflicts injury on the houses, or on the persons of thequietest peasantry of this land, shall be punished as a traitor to thestate. "

According to the different dispositions of men, this reasoningprevailed. And from the end of September (the time when Wallace firstentered Northumberland), to the month of November, when (having scouredthe counties of England, even to the gates of York) he returned toScotland, not an offense was committed which could occasion hismerciful spirit regret. It was on All Saints Day when he againapproached the Esk; and so great was his spoil that his return seemedmore like some vast caravan moving the merchandise of half the world, than the march of an army which had so lately passed that river, afamishing, though valourous host. 

The outposts of Carlaveroch soon informed Maxwell the lord regent wasin sight. At the joyful intelligence a double smoke streamed fromevery watch-hill in Annandale; and Sir Eustace had hardly appeared onthe Solway bank, to meet his triumphant chief, when the eager speed ofthe rough knight of Torthorald brought him there also. Wallace, as hisproud charger plunged into the ford, and the heavy wagons groaned afterhim, was welcomed to the shore by the shouts, not only of the soldierswhich had followed Maxwell and Kirkpatrick, but by the people who camein crowds to hail their preserver. The squalid hue of famine had leftevery face, and each smiling countenance, beaming with health, security, and gratitude, told Wallace more emphatically than a thousandtongues, the wisdom of the means he had used to regenerate his country. 

Maxwell had prepared the fortress of Lochmaben, once the residence ofBruce, for the reception of the regent. And thither Wallace wasconducted, in prouder triumph than ever followed the chariot-wheels ofCaesar. Blessings were the clarions that preceeded him; and hosts ofpeople, whom he had saved when ready to perish, were voluntary actorsin his pageant. 

When he arrived in sight of the two capacious lochs, which spread likelucid wings on each side of the castle, he turned to Graham. "Whatpity, " said he, "that the rightful owner of his truly regal dwellingdoes not act as becomes his blood! He might now be entering its gatesas king, and Scotland find rest under its lawful monarch. "

"But he prefers being a parasite in the court of a tyrant, " replied SirJohn; "and from such a school, Scotland would reject its king. "

"But he has a son, " replied Wallace; "a brave and generous son! I amtold by Lord Montgomery, who knew him in Guienne, that a nobler spiritdoes not exist. On his brows, my dear Graham, we must hope one day tosee the crown. "

"Then only as your heir, my lord regent, " interrupted Maxwell; "forwhile you live, I can answer for it that no Scot will acknowledge anyother ruler. "

"I will first eat my own sword, " cried Kirkpatrick. 

At this moment the portcullis of the gate was raised, and Maxwellfalling back to make way for the regent, Wallace had not time to answera sentiment, now so familiar to him by hearing it from every gratefulheart, that he hardly remarked its tendency, a fact the more easily tobe believed, from the ambition of such reward never receivingacceptance in his well-principled mind. 

Ever pressing toward establishing the happiness of his country, hehastened over the splendid repast that was prepared for him; anddispensing with the ceremonials with which the zeal of Maxwell soughtto display his respect for the virtues and station of his commander, heretired with Graham to write dispatches, and to apportion shares of thespoil to the necessities of the provinces. In these duties, hiswakeful eye was kept open the greatest part of the night. They forwhom he labored slept securely! That thought was rest to him. Butthey closed not their eyes without praying for the sweet repose oftheir benefactor. And he found it; not in sleep, but in that peace ofheart which the world cannot give. 

Chapter XLVI. 

Lammington. 

Day succeeded day in the execution of these beneficial designs. Whenfulfilled, the royal halls of Lochmaben did not long detain him whoknew no satisfaction but when going about doing good. While he wasthus employed, raising with the quickness of magic, by the hands of hissoldiers, the lately ruined hamlets into well-built villages-while thegray smoke curled from a thousand russet cottages which now spotted thesides of the snow-clad hills-while all the lowlands, whithersoever hedirected his steps, breathed of comfort and abundance-he felt like thefather of a large family, in the midst of a happy and vast home, whereevery eye turned on him with reverence, every lip with gratitude. 

He had hardly gone the circuit of these now cheerful valleys, when anembassy from England, which had first touched at Lochmaben, overtookhim at the Tower of Lammington. The ambassadors were Edmund, Earl ofArundel (a nobleman who had married the only sister of De Warenne), andAnthony Beck, Bishop of Durham. 

At the moment their splendid cavalcade, escorted by a party from SirEustace Maxwell, entered the gate of Lammington, Wallace was in thehourly expectation of Edwin, and hearing the trampling of horses, hehastened into the courtyard, attended by Gregory's grandchildren. Onewas in his arms, two others held by his plaid, and a third played withthe sword he had unbuckled from his side. It was a clear frosty day, and the keenness of the air brightened the complexion of Wallace, whileit deepened the roses of his infant companions. The leader of theScottish escort immediately proclaimed to the embassadors that this wasthe regent. At the sight of so uncourtly a scene the haughty prelateof Durham drew back. 

"This man will not understand his own interest, " said he, in adisdainful whisper, to Lord Arundel. 

"I am inclined to think his estimation of it will be beyond ours. " Asthe earl made this reply, the officer of Maxwell informed Wallace ofthe names and errand of the illustrious strangers. At the mention of aSouthron, the elder children ran screaming into the house, leaving theyoungest, who continued on the breast of Wallace. 

The bishop drew near. 

"We come, Sir William Wallace, " cried the prelate, in a tone whoselordly pitch lowered when his surprised eye saw the princely dignitywhich shone over the countenance of the man whose domestic appearance, when descried at a distance, had excited his contempt; "we come fromthe King of England, with a message for your private ear. "

"And I hope, gallant chief, " joined Lord Arundel, "what we have toimpart will give peace to both nations, and establish in honor the mostgenerous as well as the bravest of enemies. "

Wallace bowed to the earl's compliment (he knew by his title that hemust be the brother of De Warenne), and, resigning the child into thearms of Graham, with a graceful welcome he conducted the Southron lordsinto the hall. 

Lord Arundel, looking around, said, "Are we alone, Sir William?"

"Perfectly, " he replied, "and I am ready to receive any proposals forpeace which the rights of Scotland will allow her to accept. "

The earl drew from his bosom a gold casket, and laying it on a tablebefore him, addressed the regent:-"Sir William Wallace, I come to you, not with the denunciation of an implacable liege lord, whom a rashvassal has offended, but in the grace of the most generous of monarchs, anxious to convert a brave insurgent into the loyal friend. My lordthe king having heard by letters from my brother-in-law, the Earl deWarenne, of the honorable manner with which you treated the Englishwhom the fate of battle threw into your power, his majesty, instead ofsending over from Flanders a mighty army to overwhelm this rebelliouskingdom, has deputed me, even as an embassador, to reason with therashness he is ready to pardon. Also, with this diadem, " continued theearl, drawing a circlet of jewels from the casket, "which my bravesovereign tore from the brows of a Saracen prince, on the ramparts ofAcre, he sends the assurance of his regard for the heroic virtues ofhis enemy. And to these jewels, he will add a more efficient crown, ifSir William Wallace will awake from this trance of false enthusiasm, and acknowledge, as he is in duty bound to do, the supremacy of Englandover this country. Speak but the word, noblest of Scots, " added theearl, "and the bishop of Durham has orders from the generous Edwardimmediately to anoint you king of Scotland-that done, my royal masterwill support you in your throne against every man who may dare indispute your authority. "

At these words Wallace rose from his seat. "My lord, " said he, "sinceI took up arms for injured Scotland, I have been used to look into thehearts of men; I therefore estimate with every due respect thecompliment which this message of your king pays to my virtues. Had hethought that I deserved the confidence of Scotland, he would not haveinsulted me with offering a price for my allegiance. To be even acrowned vassal of King Edward is far beneath my ambition. Take backthe Saracen's diadem; it shall never dishonor the brows of him who hassworn by the cross to maintain the independence of Scotland, or to laydown his life in the struggle!"

"Weigh well, brave sir, " resumed the earl, "the consequences of thisanswer. Edward will soon be in England; he will march hither himself;not at the head of such armies as you have discomfited, but withcountless legions; and when he falls upon any country in indignation, the places of its cities are known no more. "

"Better for a brave people so to perish, " replied Wallace, "than toexist in dishonor. "

"What dishonor, noble Scot, can accrue from acknowledging the supremacyof your liege lord; or to what can the proudest ambition in Scotlandextend beyond that of possessing its throne?"

"I am not such a slave, " cried Wallace, "as to prefer what men mightcall aggrandizement before the higher destiny of preserving to mycountry its birthright, independence. To be the guardian of her laws, and of the individual right of every man born on Scottish ground, is myambition. Ill should I perform the one duty, were I to wrong theposterity of Alexander by invading their throne; and horrible would bemy treason against the other, could I sell my confiding country for aname and a bauble into the grasp of a usurper. "

"Brand not with so unjust an epithet the munificent Edward!"interrupted Lord Arundel; "let your own noble nature be a witness ofhis. Put from you all the prejudice which the ill conduct of hisofficers have excited, and you must perceive that in accepting histerms you will best repay your country's confidence by giving it peace. "

"So great would be my damning sin in such an acceptance, " criedWallace, "that I should be abhorred by God and man. You talk of nobleminds, earl; look into your own, and will it not tell you that in themoment a people bring themselves to put the command of their actions, and with that, their consciences, into the hands of a usurper (and thatEdward is one in Scotland our annals and his tyrannies declare), theysell their birthright and become unworthy the name of men? In thatdeed they abjure the gift with which God had intrusted them; andjustly, the angels of his host depart from them. You know the sacredaxiom, Virtue is better than life! By that we are commanded topreserve the one at the expense of the other; and we are ready to obey. Neither the threats nor the blandishments of Edward have power toshake the resolves of those who draw the sword of the Lord and ofGideon!"

"Rebellious man!" exclaimed Beck, who had listened impatiently; andwhose haughty spirit could ill brook such towering language beingdirected to his sovereign; "since you dare quote Scripture to sanctioncrime, hear my embassage. To meet the possibility of this flagitiousobstinacy, I came armed with the thunder of the church, and theindignation of a justly incensed monarch. Accept his most graciousoffers, delivered to you by the Earl of Arundel. Here is the cross, toreceive your oath of fealty, " cried he, stretching it forth, as if hethought his commands were irrestible; "but beware! keep it with a truerfaith than did the traitor Baliol, or expect the malediction of Heaven, the exterminating vengeance of your liege lord!"

Wallace was not discomposed by this attack from the stormy prelate. "My Lord of Durham, " replied he with his usual tranquil air, "had yoursovereign sent me such proposals as became a just king, and werepossible for an honest Scot to admit, he should have found me ready tohave treated him with the respect due to his rank and honor; but whenhe demands the sacrifice of my integrity; when he asks me to sign adeed that would again spread this renovated land with devastation, wereI to consider the glozing language of his embassy as grace andnobleness. I should belie my own truth, which tramples alike on hismenaces and his pretended claims. And I ask you, priest of Heaven! ishe a god greater than Jehovah, that I should fear him?"

"And durst thou presume, audacious rebel!" exclaimed Beck "that thelight of Israel deign, to shine on a barbarian nation in arms against ahero of the cross? Reprobate that thou art, answer to thine owncondemnation? Does not the church declare the claims of Edward to bejust! and who dare gainsay her decrees?"

"The voice of Him you pretend to serve! He is no respecter of persons;he raises the poor from the dust; and by his arm the tyrant and hishost are plunged into the whelming waves! Bishop, I know in whom Itrust. Is the minister greater than his lord, that I should believethe word of a synod against the declared will of God? Neither anathemanor armed thousands shall make me acknowledge the supremacy of Edward. He may conquer the body, but the soul of a patriot he can never subdue. "

"Then, " cried Beck, suddenly rising, black with choler, and stretchinghis crosier over the head of Wallace, "as the rod of Moses shedplagues, miseries, and death over the land of Egypt, I invoke the likejudgments to fall on this rebellious land, on its blasphemous leader!And thus I leave it my curse. "

Wallace smiled as the terrific words fell from the lips of this demonin sacred guise. Lord Arundel observed him. "You despise thismalediction, Sir William Wallace! I thought more piety had dwelt withso much military nobleness!"

"I should not regard the curses of a congregated world, " repliedWallace, "when my conscience as loudly proclaims that God is on myside. And is he not omniscient, that he should be swayed by theprejudices of men? Does he not read the heart? Is he not master ofall causes? And shall I shrink when I know that I hold his commission? Shall I not regard those anathemas even as the artillery with whichthe adversary would drive me from my post? But did the clouds rainfire, and the earth open beneath me, I would not stir; for I know whoplanted me here; and as long as he wills me to stand, neither men nordevils can move me hence. "

"Thou art incorrigible!" cried Beck. 

"I would say, firm, " rejoined Arundel, overawed by the majesty ofvirtue, "could I regard, as he does, the cause he has espoused. But, as it is, noble Wallace, " continued he, "I must regret yourinfatuation; and instead of the peace I thought to leave with you, hurlwar, never-ending, extirpating war, upon the head of this devotednation!" As he spoke, he threw his lance** against the opposite wall, in which it stuck and stood shivering; then taking up the casket, withits splendid contents, he replaced it in his bosom. 

**To throw a spear was an ancient mode of denouncing war. 

Beck had turned away in wrath from the table, and advancing with amagisterial step to the door, he threw it open; as if he thought, thatlonger to breathe the same air with the person he had excommunicated, would infect him with his own curses. On opening the door, a group ofScots, who waited in the antechamber, hastened forward. At the sightof the prelate they raised their bonnets, and hesitated to pass. Hestood on the threshold, proudly neglectful of their respect. In thenext minute, Wallace appeared with Lord Arundel. 

"Brave knight, " said the earl, "the adieus of a man, as sensible ofyour private worth as he regrets the errors of your public opinion, abide with you. "

"Were Edward sensible to virtue, like his brave subjects, " replied thechief, "I should not fear that another drop of blood need be shed inScotland to convince him of his present injustice. Farewell, nobleearl; the generous candor of yourself and of your brother-in-law willever live in the remembrance of William Wallace. "

While he yet spoke, a youth broke from the group before them, andrushing toward the regent, threw himself with a cry of joy at his feet. "My Edwin, my brother!" exclaimed Wallace; and immediately raisinghim, clasped him in his arms. The throng of Scots who had accompaniedtheir young leader from Stirling, now crowded about the chief; somekneeling and kissing his garments; others ejaculating, with upliftinghands, their thanks at seeing their protector in safety, and withredoubled glory. 

"You forgive me, my master and friend?" cried Edwin, forgetting, in thehappy agitation of his mind, the presence of the English embassadors. 

"It was only as a master I condemned you, my brother, " returnedWallace; "every proof of your affection must render you dearer to me;and had it been exerted against an offender not so totally in my power, you would not have met my reprimand. But ever remember that thepersons of prisoners are inviolable, for they lie on the bosom ofmercy; and who that has honor would take them thence?"

Lord Arundel, who had lingered to observe this short but animatedscene, now ventured to interrupt it: "May I ask, noble Wallace, " saidhe, "if this interesting youth be the brave young Ruthven, whodistinguished himself at Dumbarton, and who, De Warenne told me, incurred a severe though just sentence from you, in consequence of hisattack upon one whom, as a soldier, I blush to name?"

"It is the same, " replied Wallace; "the valor and fidelity of such ashe are as sinews to my arms, and bring a more grateful empire to myheart than all the crowns which may be in the power of Edward tobestow. "

"I have often seen the homage of the body, " said the earl; "but here Isee that of the soul; and were I a king, I should envy Sir WilliamWallace!"

"This speech is that of a courtier or a traitor!" suddenly exclaimedBeck, turning with a threatening brow on Lord Arundel. "Beware, earl!for what has now been said must be repeated to the royal Edward; and hewill judge whether flattery to this proud rebel be consistent with yourallegiance. "

"Every word that has been uttered in this conference** I will myselfdeliver to King Edward, " replied Lord Arundel; "he shall know the manon whom he may be forced by justice to denounce the sentence ofrebellion; and when the pruissance of his royal arm lays this kingdomat his feet, the virtues of Sir William Wallace may then find theclemency he now contemns!"

Beck did not condescend to listen to the latter part of thisexplanation; but proceeding to the court-yard, had mounted his horsebefore his worthier colleague appeared from the hall. Taking agracious leave of Sir John Graham, who attended him to the door, theearl exclaimed, "What miracle is before me? Not the mighty mover onlyof this wide insurrection is in the bloom of manhood, but all hisgeneral that I have seen appear in the very morning of youth! And youconquer our veterans; by long experience, and hairs grown gray in campsand battles!"

"Then by our morning judge what our day may be, " replied Graham; "andshow your monarch that as surely as the night of death will in somehour close upon prince and peasant, this land shall never again beovershadowed by his darkness. "

"Listen not to their bold treasons!" cried Beck; and setting spurs tohis horse, in no very clerical style he galloped out of the gates. Arundel made some courteous reply to Graham; then, bowing to the restof the Scottish officers who stood around, turned his steed, andfollowed by his escort, pursued the steps of the bishop along thesnow-covered banks of the Clyde. 

Chapter XLVII. 

Lammington. 

When Wallace was left alone with Edwin, the happy youth (afterexpressing delight that Murray then held his headquarters in BothwellCastle) took from his bosom two packets; one from Lord Mar, the otherfrom the countess. "My dear cousin, " said he, "has sent you manyblessings; but I could not persuade her to register even one on paperwhile my aunt wrote all this. Almost ever since her own recovery, Helen has confined herself to my uncle's sick chamber, now totallydeserted by the fair countess, who seems to have forgotten all dutiesin the adulation of the audience-hall. "

Wallace remarked on the indisposition of Mar, and the attention of hisdaughter, with tenderness. And Edwin, with the unrestrained vivacityof happy friendship, proceeded sportively to describe the regal stylewhich the countess had affected, and the absurd group with which shehad welcomed the Earls Badenoch and Athol to their native country. "Indeed, " continued he, "I cannot guess what vain idea has takenpossession of her; but when I went to Snawdoun, to receive her commandsfor you, I found her seated on a kind of throne, with ladies standingin her presence, and our younger chieftains thronging the gallery, asif she were the regent himself. Helen entered for a moment, but, amazed, started back, never before having witnessed the morning courtsof stepmother. "

But Edwin did not relate to his friend all that had passed in thesucceeding conference between him and his gentle cousin. 

Blushing for her father's wife, Helen would have retired immediately toher own apartments, but Edwin drew her into one of Lady Mar's rooms, and seating her beside him, began to speak of his anticipated meetingwith Wallace. He held her hand in his. "My dearest cousin, " said he, "will not this tender hand, which has suffered so much for our bravefriend, write him one word of kind remembrance? Our queen here willsend him volumes. "

"Then he would hardly have time to attend to one of mine, " repliedHelen, with a smile. "Besides, he requires no new assurance toconvince him that Helen Mar can never cease to remember her benefactorwith the most grateful thoughts. "

"And is this all I am to say to him, Helen?"

"All, my Edwin. "

"What! not one word of the life you have led since he quitted Stirling? Shall I not tell him that, when this lovely arm no longer wore thelivery of its heroism in his behalf, instead of your appearing at thegay assemblies of the countess, you remained immured within youroratory? Shall I not tell him that since the sickness of my uncle youhave sat days and nights by his couch-side, listening to the dispatchesfrom the borders-subscribing, with smiles and tears, to his praises ofour matchless regent? Shall I not tell him of the sweet maid who liveshere the life of a nun for him? Or, must I entertain him with thepomps and vanities of my most unsaintly aunt?"

Helen had in vain attempted to stop him, while, with an arch glance ather mantling blushes, he half whispered these insidious questions. "Ah, my sweet cousin, there is something more at the bottom of thatbeating heart than you will allow your faithful Edwin to peep into. "

Helen's heart did beat violently, both before and after this remark;but conscious, whatever might be there, of the determined purpose ofher soul, she turned on him a steady look. "Edwin, " said she, "thereis nothing in my heart that you may not see. That it reveres SirWilliam Wallace beyond all other men, I do not deny. But class not mydeep veneration with a sentiment which may be jested on! He has spokento me the language of friendship-you know what it is to be hisfriend-and having tasted of heaven, I cannot stoop to earth. Whatpleasure can I find in pageants?-what interest in the admiration ofmen? Is not his esteem of a value that puts to naught the homages ofall else in the world? Do me then justice, my Edwin! believe me, I amno gloomy, no sighing, recluse. I am happy with my thoughts, andthrice happy at the side of my father's couch; for there I meet theimage of the most exemplary of human beings, and there I perform theduties of a child to a parent deserving all my love and honor. "

"Ah, Helen! Helen!" cried Edwin; "dare I speak the wish of my heart!But you and Sir William Wallace would frown on me, and I may not!"

"Then, never utter it!" exclaimed Helen, turning pale, and tremblingfrom head to foot; too well guessing, by the generous glow in hiscountenance, what would have been that wish. 

At this instant the door opened, and Lady Mar appeared. Both rose ather entrance. She bowed her head coldly to Helen. To Edwin shegraciously extended her hand. "Why, my dear nephew, did you not comeinto the audience-hall?"

Edwin answered, smiling, that as he "did not know the Governor ofStirling's lady lived in the state of a queen, he hoped he should beexcused for mistaking lords and ladies in waiting for company; and forthat reason, having retired till he could bid her adieu in a lesspublic scene. "

Lady mar, with much stateliness, replied, "Perhaps it is necessary toremind you, Edwin, that I am more than Lord Mar's wife. I am not onlyheiress to the sovereignty of the northern isles, but, like Badenoch, am of the blood of the Scottish kings. "

To conceal an irrepressible laugh at this proud folly in a woman, otherwise of shrewd understanding, Edwin turned toward the window; butnot before the countess had observed the ridicule which played on hislips. Vexed, but afraid to reprimand one who might so soon resent it, by speaking of her disparagingly to Wallace, she unburdened theswelling of her anger upon the unoffending Helen. Not doubting thatshe felt as Edwin did, and fancying that she saw the same expression inher countenance. "Lady Helen, " cried she, "I request an explanation ofthat look of derision which I now see on your face. I wish to knowwhether the intoxication of your vanity dare impel you to despiseclaims which may one day be established to your confusion. "

This attack surprised Helen, who, absorbed in other meditations, hadscarcely heard her mother's words to Edwin. "I neither deride you, Lady Mar, nor despise the claims of your kinsman, Badenoch. But sinceyou have condescended to speak to me on the subject, I must, out ofrespect to yourself, and duty to my father, frankly say, that theassumption of honors not legally in your possession may excite ridiculeon him, and even trouble to our cause. "

Provoked at the just reasoning of this reply and at beingmisapprehended with regard to the object with whom she hoped to shareall the reflected splendors of a throne, Lady Mar answered, ratherinconsiderately, "Your father is an old man, and has outlived everynoble emulation. He neither understands my actions, nor shall hecontrol them. " Struck dumb by this unexpected declaration, Helensuffered her to proceed. "And as to Lord Badenoch giving me the rankto which my birth entitled me, that is a foolish dream-I look to agreater hand. "

"What!" inquired Edwin, with a playful bow, "does my highness auntexpect my uncle to die, and that Bruce will come hither to lay thecrown of Scotland at her feet?"

"I expect nothing of Bruce, nor of your uncle, " returned she, with ahaughty rearing of her head; "but I look for respect from the daughterof Lord Mar, and from the friend of Sir William Wallace. "

She rose from her chair, and presenting Edwin with a packet forWallace, told Helen she might retire to her own room. 

"To my father's I will, madam, " returned she. 

Lady Mar colored at this reproof, and, turning to Edwin, more gentlysaid, "You know that the dignity of his situation must be maintained;and while others attend his couch, I must his reputation. "

"I have often heard that 'Fame is better than life!'" replied Edwin, still smiling; "and I thank Lady mar for showing me how differentlypeople may translate the same lesson. Adieu, dear Helen!" said he, touching her mantling cheek with his lips. 

"Farewell, " returned she, "may good angels guard you!"

The substance of the latter part of this scene Edwin did relate toWallace. He smiled at the vain follies of the countess, and broke theseal of her letter. It was in the same style with her conversation; atone moment declaring herself his disinterested friend, in the next, uttering wild professions of neverending attachment. She deplored thesacrifice which had been made of her, when quite a child, to the dotingpassion of Lord Mar; and complained of his want of sympathy with any ofher feelings. Then picturing the happiness which must result from thereciprocal love of congenial hearts, she ventured to show how trulyhers would unite with Wallace's. The conclusion of this strangeepistle told him that the devoted gratitude of all her relations of thehouse of Cummin was ready, at any moment, to relinquish their claims onthe crown, to place it on brows so worthy to wear it. 

The words of this letter were so artfully and so persuasively penned, that had not Edwin described the inebriated vanity of Lady Mar, Wallacemight have believed that she was ambitious only for him, and that couldshe share his heart, his throne would be a secondary object. Toestablish this deception in his mind, she added, "I live here as at thehead of a court, and fools around me think I take pleasure in it; butdid they look into my actions, they would see that I serve while I seemto reign. I am working in the hearts of men for your advancement. "

But whether this were her real motive or not, it was the same toWallace; he felt that she would always be, were she even free, notmerely the last object in his thoughts, but the first in his aversion. Therefore, hastily running over her letter, he recurred to a secondperusal of Lord Mar's. In this he found satisfactory details of thesuccess of his dispositions. Lord Lochawe had possessed himself of thewestern coast of Scotland, from the Mull of Kintyre, to the furthestmountains of Glenmore. There the victorious Lord Ruthven had met him, having completed the recovery of the Highlands, by a range of conquestsfrom the Spey to the Murray frith and Inverness-shire. Lord Bothwell, also, as his colleague, had brought from the shore of Ross and thehills of Caithness, every Southron banner which had disgraced theirembattled towers. 

Graham was sent for by Wallace to hear these pleasant tidings. 

"Ah!" cried Edwin, in triumph, "not a spot north of the Forth nowremains, that does not acknowledge the supremacy of the Scottish lion!"

"Nor south of it either, " returned Graham; "from the Mull of Gallowayto my gallant father's government on the Tweed; from the Cheviots tothe Northern Ocean, all now is our own. The door is locked againstEngland, and Scotland must prove unfaithful to herself before theSouthrons can again set feet on her borders. "

The more private accounts were not less gratifying to Wallace; for hefound that his plans for disciplining and bringing the people intoorder were everywhere adopted, and that in consequence, alarm andpenury had given way to peace and abundance. To witness the success ofhis comprehensive designs, and to settle a dispute between Lord Ruthvenand the Earl of Athol, relative to the government of Perth, Lord Marstrongly urged him (since he had driven the enemy so many hundred milesinto their own country) to repair immediately to the scene ofcontroversy. "Go, " added the earl, "through the Lothians, and acrossthe Queens ferry, directly into Perthshire. I would not have you cometo Stirling, lest it should be supposed that you are influenced in yourjudgment either my myself or my wife. But I think there cannot be aquestion that Lord Ruthven's services to the great cause invest himwith a claim which his opponent does not possess. Lord Athol has nonebeyond that of superior rank; but being the near relation of my wife, Ibelieve she is anxious for his elevation. Therefore come not near us, if you would avoid female importunity, and spare me the pain of hearingwhat I must condemn. "

Wallace now recollected a passage in Lady Mar's letter which, thoughnot speaking out, insinuated how she expected he would decide. Shesaid: "As your interest is mine, my noble friend, all that belongs tome is yours. My kindred are not withheld in the gift my devoted heartbestows on you. Use them as your own; make them bulwarks around yourpower, the creatures of your will, the instruments of your benevolence, the defenders of your rights. "

Well pleased to avoid another rencounter with this lady's love andambition, Wallace sent off the substance of these dispatches to Murray;and next morning, taking a tender leave of the venerable Gregory andhis family, with Edwin and Sir John Graham, he set off for the Frith ofForth. 

Chapter XLVIII. 

Loch Awe. 

It was on the eve of St. Nicholas that the boat which contained Wallacedrew near to the coast of Fife. A little of the right towered thetremendous precipice of Kinghorn. 

"Behold, Edwin, " said he, "the cause of all our woe! From thosehorrible cliffs fell the best of kings, the good Alexander. My fatheraccompanied him in that fatal ride, and was one of the unhappy groupwho had the evil hap to find his mangled body among the rocks below. "

"I have heard, " observed Graham, "that the sage of Ercildown prophesiedthis dreadful calamity to Scotland. "

"He did prognosticate, " replied Wallace, "that on the eighteenth ofApril, a storm should burst over this land which would lay the countryin ruins. Fear seized the farmers; but his prophecy regarded a noblerobject than their harvests. The day came, rose unclouded, andcontinued perfectly serene. Lord March, to whom the seer had presagedthe event, at noon reproached him with the unlikeliness of itscompletion. But even at the moment he was ridiculing the sage, a manon a foaming steed arrived at the gate, with tidings that the king hadaccidentally fallen from the precipice of Kinghorn, and was killed. 'This, ' said the Lord of Ercildown, 'is the scathing wind and dreadfultempest which shall long blow calamity and trouble on the realm ofScotland!' And surely his words have been verified, for still thestorm rages around our borders-and will not cease, I fear, till thepresent dragon of England be laid as low as our noble lion was by thatmysterious blast. "**

**Alexander III. Was killed in this manner on the 18th of April, 1290, just seven years before the consequent calamities of his country madeit necessary for Wallace to rise in its defense. 

The like discourse held the friends till they landed at Roseyth Castle, where they lodged for the night; and next morning recommencing theirjourney at daybreak, they crossed the Lomonds under a wintery sun, andentered Perth in the midst of a snow-storm. 

The regent's arrival soon spread throughout the province, and the hallof the castle was speedily crowded with chieftains, come to pay theirrespects to their benefactor; while an army of grateful peasantry fromthe hills filled the suburbs of the town, begging for one glance onlyof their beloved lord. To oblige them, Wallace mounted his horse, andbetween the Lords Ruthven and Athol, with his bonnet off, rode from thecastle to the populace-covered plain, which lay to the west of thecity. He gratified their affectionate eagerness by this condescension, and received in return the sincere homage of a thousand gratefulhearts. The snow-topped Grampians echoed with the proud acclamationsof "Our deliverer, " "Our prince, " "The champion of Scotland, " "Theglorious William Wallace!" and the shores of the Tay resounded withsimilar rejoicings at sight of him who made the Scottish seamen lordsof the Northern Ocean. 

Ruthven beheld this eloquence of nature with sympathetic feelings. Hisjust sense of the unequaled merits of the regent had long internallyacknowledged him as his sovereign; and he smiled with approbation atevery breathing amongst the people which intimated what would at lastbe their general shout. Wallace had proved himself not only a warriorbut a legislator. In the midst of war he had planted the fruits ofpeace, and now the olive and the vine waved abundant on every hill. 

Different were the thoughts of the gloomy Athol as he rode by the sideof the regent. Could he by a look have blasted those valiant arms-havepalsied that youthful head, whose judgment shamed the hoariesttemples-gladly would he have made Scotland the sacrifice so that hemight never again find himself in the triumphant train of one whom hedeemed a boy and an upstart! Thus did he muse, and thus did envy opena way into his soul for those demons to enter which were so soon topossess it with the fellest designs. 

The issue of Ruthven's claims did not lessen Lord Athol's hatred of theregent. Wallace simply stated the case to him, only changing thesituations of the opponents; he supposed Athol to be in the place ofRuthven and then asked the frowning earl if Ruthven had demanded agovernment which Athol had bravely won and nobly secured, whether heshould deem it just to be sentenced to relinquish it into the hands ofhis rival? By this question he was forced to decide against himself. But while Wallace generously hoped that, by having made him his ownjudge, he had found an expedient both to soften the pain ofdisappointment and to lessen the humiliation of defeat, he had onlyredoubled the hatred of Athol, who thought he had thus been cajoled outof even the privilege of complaint. He, however, affected to bereconciled to the issue of the affair, and, taking a friendly leave ofthe regent, retired to Blair; and there, amongst the numerousfortresses which owned his power-amongst the stupendous strongholds ofnature, the cloud invested mountains and the labyrinthine winding ofhis lochs and streams-he determined to pass his days and nights indevising the sure fall of this proud usurper; for so the bitterness ofan envy he durst not yet breathe to any impelled him internally todesignate the unpretending Wallace. 

Meanwhile, the unconscious object of this hatred, oppressed by theoverwhelming crowds constantly assembling at Perth to do him homage, retired to Huntingtower-a castle of Lord Ruthven's, at some distancefrom the town. Secluded from the throng, he there arranged, with thechiefs of several clans, matters of consequence to the internal reposeof the country; but receiving applications for similar regulations fromthe counties further north, he decided on going thither himself. Severe as the weather was at that season, he bade adieu to the warmhospitalities of Huntingtower, and, accompanied by Graham and his youngfriend Edwin, with a small but faithful train he commenced a journeywhich he intended should comprehend the circuit of the Highlands. 

With the chieftain of almost every castle in his progress he passed aday, and according to the interest which the situation of thesurrounding peasantry created in his mind he lengthened his sojourn. Everywhere he was welcomed with enthusiasm, and his glad eye beheld thefestivities of Christmas with a delight which recalled past emotions, till they wrung his heart. 

The last day of the old year he spent with Lord Loch-awe, in KichurnCastle; and after a bounteous feast, in which lord and vassal joined, sat up the night to hail the coming in of the new season. Wallace hadpassed that hour, twelve months ago, alone with his Marion. They sattogether in the window of the eastern tower of Ellerslie: and while helistened to the cheerful lilts to which their servants were dancing, the hand of his lovely bride was clasped in his. Marion smiled andtalked of the happiness which should await them in the year to come. "Ay, my beloved, " answered he, "more than thy beauteous self will thenfill these happy arms! Thy babe, my wife, will then hand at thy bosom, to bless with a parent's joys thy grateful husband!"

That time was now come round, and where was Marion?-cold in the grave. Where that smiling babe?-a murderer's steel had reached it ere it sawthe light. 

Wallace groaned at these recollections; he struck his hand forcibly onhis bursting heart, and fled from the room. The noise of the harps, the laughing of the dancers, prevented his emotions from beingobserved; and rushing far from the joyous tumult, till its sounds diedin the breeze, or were only brought to his ear by fitful gusts, hespeeded along the margin of the lake, as if he would have flown evenfrom himself. But memory, racking memory, followed him. Throwinghimself on a bank, over which the ice hung in pointed masses, he feltnot the roughness of the ground, for all within him was disturbed andat war. 

"Why, " cried he, "O! why was I selected for this cruel sacrifice? Whywas this heart, to whom the acclaim of multitudes could bring noselfish joy-why was it to be bereft of all that ever made it beat withtransport? Companion of my days, partner of my soul! my lost, lostMarion! And are thine eyes forever closed on me? Shall I never moreclasp that hand which ever thrilled my frame with every sense ofrapture? Gone, gone forever-and I am alone!"

Long and agonizing was the pause which succeeded to this fearfultempest of feeling. In that hour of grief, renewed in all its formerviolence, he forgot country, friends and all on earth. Therecollection of his fame was mockery to him; for where was she to whomthe sound of his praises would have given so much joy?

"Ah!" said he, "it was indeed happiness to be brightened in those eyes! When the gratitude of our poor retainers met thine ear, how didst thoulay thy soft cheek to mine, and shoot its gentle warmth into my heart!" At that moment he turned his face on the gelid bank; starting withwild horror, he exclaimed, "Is it now so cold? My Marion, my murderedwife!" and, rushing from the spot, he again hastened along the marginof the loch. But there he still heard the distant sound of the pipesfrom the castle; he could not bear their gay notes; and, darting up thehill which overhung Loch-awe's domain, he ascended, with swift andreckless steps, the rocky sides of Ben Cruachan. Full of distractingthoughts, and impelled by a wild despair, he hurried from steep tosteep, and was rapidly descending the western side of the mountain, regardless of the piercing sleet, when his course was suddenly checkedby coming with a violent shock against another human being, who, running as hastily through the storm, had driven impetuously againstWallace; but, being the weaker of the two, was struck to the ground. The accident rallied the scattered senses of the chief. He now feltthat he was out in the midst of a furious winter tempest, had wanderedhe knew not whither, and probably had materially injured some poortraveler by his intemperate motion. 

He raised the fallen man, and asked whether he were hurt. Thetraveler, perceiving by the kind tone of the inquirer that no harm hadbeen intended, answered, "Not much, only a little lamed, and all therecompense I ask for this unlucky upset is to give me a helping hand tomy father's cot-it is just by. I have been out at a neighbor's todance in the new year with a bonny lass, who, however, may not thankyou for my broken shins!"

As the honest lad went on telling his tale, with a great manyparticulars dear to his simple wishes, Wallace helped him along; andcarefully conducting him through the gathering snow, descended thedeclivity which led to the shepherd's cottage. When within a few yardsof it, Wallace heard the sound of singing, but it was not the gaycaroling of mirth; the solemn chant of more serious music mingled withthe roaring blast. 

"I am not too late yet!" cried the communicative lad; "I should nothave run so fast had I not wanted to get home in time enough to makeone in the New-year's hymn. "

They had now arrived at the little door, and the youth, without theceremony of knocking, opened the latch; as he did so, he turned andsaid to his companion, "We have no occasion for bolts, since the braveLord Wallace has cleared the country of our Southron robbers. " Hepushed the door as he spoke, and displayed to the eyes of the chief avenerable old man on his knees before a crucifix; around him knelt afamily of young people and an aged dame, all joining in the sacredthanksgiving. The youth, without a word, dropped on his knees near thedoor, and making a sign to his companion to do the same, Wallaceobeyed; and as the anthems rose in succession on the ear, to which thelow breathings of the lightly touched harp echoed its heavenly strains, he felt the tumult of his bosom gradually subside; and when thevenerable sire laid down the instrument and clasped his hands inprayer, the natural pathos of his invocations, and the gratefuldevotions with which the young people gave their response, all tendedto tranquilize his mind into a holy calm. 

At the termination of the concluding prayer, how sweet were theemotions of Wallace when he heard these words, uttered with augmentedfervor by the aged petitioner!

"While we thus thank thee, O gracious God! for the mercies bestowedupon us, we humbly implore thee to hold in thine Almighty protectionhim by whose arm thou has wrought the deliverance of Scotland. Let ourpreserver be saved from his sins by the blood of Christ! Let ourbenefactor be blessed in mind, body, and estate, and all prosper withhim that he takes in hand! May the good he has dispensed to hiscountry be returned four-fold into his bosom; and may he live to see arace of his own reaping the harvest of his virtues, and adding freshhonors to the stalwart name of Wallace!"

Every mouth echoed a fervent amen to this prayer, and Wallace himselfinwardly breathed, "And have I not, even now, sinned, all-gracious God!in the distraction of this night's remembrance? I mourned-I would notbe comforted. But in thy mercy thou hast led me hither to see thehappy fruits of my labors; and I am resigned and thankful!"

The sacred rites over, two girls ran to the other side of the room, andbetween them brought forward a rough table covered with dishes andbread; while the mother, taking off a large pot, emptied its smokingcontents into the different vessels. Meanwhile the young man, introducing the stranger to his father, related the accident of themeeting, and the good old shepherd, bidding him a hearty welcome, desired him to draw near the fire and partake of their New-year'sbreakfast. 

"We need the fire, I assure you, " cried the lad, "for we are dripping. "

Wallace now advanced from the shadowed part of the room, where he hadknelt, and drawing toward the light, certainly displayed to his hostthe truth of his son's observation. He had left the castle without hisbonnet, and hurrying on regardless of the whelming storm, his hairbecame saturated with wet, and now streamed in water over hisshoulders. The good old wife, seeing the stranger's situation wasworse than her son's snatched away the bottle out of which he wasswallowing a heavy cordial, and poured it over the exposed head of herguest; then ordering one of her daughters to rub it dry, she took offhis plaid, and wringing it, hung it to the fire. 

During these various operations-for the whole family seemed eager toshow their hospitality-the old man discovered, not so much by thecostliness of his garments as by the noble mien and gentle manners ofthe stranger, that he was some chieftain from the castle. "Yourhonor, " said he, "must pardon the uncourtliness of our ways; but wegive you the best we have: and the worthy Lord Loch-awe cannot do more. "

Wallace gave smiling answers to all their remarks, and offers ofservice. He partook of their broth, praised the good wife's cakes, andsat discoursing with the family with all the gayety and frankness ofone of themselves. His unreserved manners opened every heart aroundhim, and with confidential freedom the venerable shepherd related hisdomestic history, dwelling particularly on the projected marriages ofhis children, which he said, "should now take place, since the good SirWilliam Wallace had brought peace to the land. "

Wallace gratified the worthy father, he appearing to take an interestin all his narratives, and then allowing the happy spirits of the youngpeople to break in upon these graver discussions, he smiled with them, or looked serious with the garrulous matron, who turned the discourseto tales of other times. He listened with complacency to every legendof witch, fairy, and ghost; and his enlightened remarks sometimespointed out natural causes for the extraordinary appearances shedescribed; or, at better-attested and less equivocal accounts ofsupernatural apparitions, he acknowledged that there are "more thingsin heaven and earth than are dreamed of in philosophy. "

Morning dawned before the tranquilized, nay, happy Wallace, happy inthe cheerful innocence of the scene, discovered that the night waspast. As the gray light gleamed through the wooden shutters he arose. "My friends, I must leave you, " said he; "there are those not far offwho may be alarmed at my disappearance, for none knew when I walkedabroad, and unwittingly I have been charmed all these hours to remain, enjoying the happiness of your circle, forgetful of the anxiety I haveperhaps occasioned in my own. "

The old man declared his intention of seeing him over the hill. Wallace declined giving him that trouble, saying that as it wasdaylight, and the snow had ceased, he could easily retrace his steps tothe castle. 

"No, no, " returned the shepherd; "and besides, " said he, "as I hear thegood lord regent is keeping the New Year with our noble earl, who knowsbut I may get a glimpse of his noble countenance, and that will be asight to tell of till I die!"

"God's blessing on his sweet face!" cried the old woman; "but I wouldgive all the yarn in my muckle chest to catch one look of his luckyeye! I warrant you, witch nor fairy could never harm me more. "

"Ah, father, " cried the eldest of the girls, blushing, "if you go nearenough to him! Do you know, Madgie Grant told me, if I could but geteven the least bit of Sir William Wallace's hair, and give it to DonalCameron to wear in a true lover's know on his breast, no Southron willbe able to do him harm as long as he lives!"

"And do you believe it would protect your lover, my pretty Jeannie?"inquired Wallace, with a sweet smile. 

"Surely, " she replied; "for Madgie is a wise woman, and has the secondsight. "

"Well, then, " returned he, "you shall be gratified. For, though I mustfor once contradict the testimony of a wise woman, and tell you thatnothing can render a man absolutely safe but the protection of Heaven, yet, if a hair from the head of Sir William Wallace would please you, and a glance from his eye gratify your mother, both shall besatisfied, " and lifting up the old woman's shears, which lay on aworking-stool before him, he cut off a golden lock from the middle ofhis head and put it into the hand of Jeannie. At this action-which wasperformed with such noble grace that not one of the family now doubtedwho had been their guest-the good dame fell on her knees, and Jeannie, with a cry of joy, putting the beautiful lock into her bosom, followedthe example, and in a woman all were clinging around him. The old mangrasped his hand. "Bravest of men!" cried he, "the Lord has indeedblessed this house, since he has honored it with the presence of thedeliverer of Scotland! My prayers, and the benedictions of all goodmen, friend or foe, must ever follow your footsteps!"

Tears of pleasure started into the eyes of Wallace. He raised thefamily one by one from the ground, and putting his purse into the handof the dame, "There, my kind hostess, " said he, "let that fill thechests of your daughters on their bridal day; they must receive it as abrother's portion to his sisters, for it is with fraternal affectionthat William Wallace regards the sons and daughters of Scotland. "

The happy sobs of the old woman stopped the expressions of hergratitude, but her son, fearing his freedom of the night before mighthave offended, stood abashed at a distance. Wallace stretched out hishand to him. "My good Archibald, " cried he, "do not hold back from onewho will always be your friend. I shall send from the castle this daysufficient to fill your bridal coffers also. "

Archibald now petitioned to be allowed to follow him in his army. "No, my brave youth, " replied the chief; "Lord Lochawe will lead you forth, whenever there is occasion; and, meanwhile, your duty is to imitate thedomestic duties of your worthy father. Make the neighboring valleysmile with the fruits of your industry; and raise a family to blessyou, as you now bless him. "

Wallace, having wrapped himself in his plaid, now withdrew amidst thebenedictions of the whole group; and swiftly recrossing the mountainheights, was soon on the western brow of Ben Cruachan. In ten minutesafterward he entered the hall of Kilchurn Castle. A few servants onlywere astir; the rest of the family were still asleep. About an hourafter their friend's departure, the earl and Graham had missed him; butsupposing that, whithersoever he was gone, he would soon return, theymade no inquiries; and when the tempest began, on Edwin expressing hisanxiety to know where he was, one of the servants said he was gone tohis chamber. This answer satisfied every one, and they continued toenjoy the festal scene until the Countess of Loch-awe made the signalfor repose. 

Next morning, when the family met at the breakfast-board, they were nota little surprised to hear Wallace recount the adventure of the night;and while Loch-awe promised every kindness to the shepherd, and amessenger was dispatched with a purse to Archibald Edwin learned fromthe earl's servant, that his reason for supposing the regent was goneto his room arose from the sight of his bonnet in the outer hall. Wallace was glad that such an evidence had prevented his friends beingalarmed; and retiring with Lord Loch-awe, with his usual equanimity ofmind resumed the graver errand of his tour. 

The hospitable rites of the season being over, in the course of a fewdays the earl accompanied his illustrious guest to make the circuit ofArgyleshire. At Castle Urguhart they parted; and Wallace, proceedingwith his two friends, performed his legislative visits from sea to sea. Having traversed with perfect satisfaction the whole of the northernpart of the kingdom, he returned to Huntingtower on the very morningthat a messenger had reached it from Murray. That vigilant chieftaininformed the regent of King Edward's arrival from Flanders, and that hewas preparing a large army to march into Scotland. 

"We must meet him, " cried Wallace, "on his own shores; and so let thehorrors attending the seat of war full on the country whose king wouldbring desolation to ours. "

Chapter XLIX. 

Stanmore. 

The gathering word was dispatched from chief to chief, to call theclans of the Highlands to meet their regent by a certain day inClydesdale. Wallace himself set forward to summon the strength of theLowlands; but at Kinclavin Castle, on the coast of Fife, he wassurprised with another embassy from Edward-a herald, accompanied bythat Sir Hugh le de Spencer who had conducted himself so insolently onhis first embrassage. 

On his entering the chamber where the regent sat with the chiefs whohad accompanied him from Perthsire, the two English men walked forward;but before the herald could pay the customary respects, Le de Spenceradvanced to Wallace; and to the price of a little mind, elated at beingempowered to insult with impunity, he broke forth: "Sir WilliamWallace, the contumely with which the embassadors of Prince Edward weretreated, is so resented by the King of England, that he invests his ownmajesty in my person to tell you, that your treasons have filled uptheir measure! that now, in the plenitude of his continental victories, he descends upon Scotland, to annihilate this rebellious nation; and-"

"Stop, Sir Hugh le de Spencer, " cried the herald, touching him with hisscepter; "whatever may be the denunciations with which our sovereignhas intrusted you, you must allow me to perform my duty before youdeclare them. And thus I utter the gracious message with which hisMajesty has honored my mouth. "

He then addressed Wallace; and in the king's name, accusing him ofrebellion, and of unfair and cruel devastations made in Scotland and inEngland, promised him pardon for all if he would immediately disbandhis followers and acknowledge his offense. 

Wallace motioned with his hand for his friends to keep silence (for heperceived that two or three of the most violent were ready to breakforth in fierce defiance of King Edward), and being obeyed, he calmlyreplied to the herald: "When we were desolate, your king came to us asa comforter, and he put us in chains! While he was absent, I invadedhis country as an open enemy. I rifled your barns, but it was to feeda people whom his robberies had left to perish! I marched through yourlands, I made your soldiers fly before me; but what spot in all yourshores have I made black with the smoke of ruin? I leave the people ofNorthumberland to judge between me and your monarch. And that he nevershall be mine or Scotland's, with God's blessing on the right, ourdeeds shall further prove!"

"Vain and ruinous determination!" exclaimed Le de Spencer; "King Edwardcomes against you, with an army that will reach from sea to sea. Wherever the hoofs of his war-horse strike, there grass never growsagain. The sword and the fire shall make a desert of this devotedland; and your arrogant head, proud Scot, shall bleed upon thescaffold!"

"He shall first see my fires, and meet my sword in his own fields, "returned Wallace; "and if God continues my life, I will keep my Easterin England, in despite of King Edward, and of all who bear armor in hiscountry!"

As he spoke he rose from his chair, and bowing his head to the herald, the Scottish marshals conducted the embassadors from his presence. Lede Spencer twice attempted to speak, but the marshals would not allowhim. They said that the business of the embassy was now over; andshould he presume further to insult their regent, the privilege of hisofficial character should not protect him from the wrath of the Scots. Intimidated by the frowning brows and nervous arms of all around, heheld his peace, and the doors were shut on him. 

Wallace foresaw the heavy tempest to Scotland threatened by theserepeated embassies. He perceived that Edward, by sending overtureswhich he knew could not be accepted-by making a show of pacificintentions, meant to throw the blame of the continuation of hostilitiesupon the Scots, and so overcome the reluctance of his more equitablenobility, to further persecute a people whom he had made suffer sounjustly. The same insidious policy was likewise meant to change theaspect of the Scottish cause in the eyes of Philip of France, who hadlately sent congratulations to the regent, on the victory ofCambus-Kenneth; and by that means deprive him of a powerful ally andzealous negotiator for an honorable peace. 

To prevent this last injury, Wallace dispatched a quick-sailing vesselwith Sir Alexander Ramsay, to inform King Philip of the particulars ofEdward's proposals, and of the consequent continued warfare. 

On the twenty-eighth of February, Sir William Wallace joined LordAndrew Murray, on Bothwell Moor, where he had the happiness of seeinghis brave friend again lord of the domains he had so lately lost in theScottish cause. Wallace did not visit the castle. At such a crisis, he forbore to unnerve his mind, by awakening the griefs which layslumbering at the bottom of his heart. Halbert came from his conventonce more to look upon the face of his beloved master. The meetingcost Wallace many agonizing pangs, but he smiled on his faithfulservant. He pressed the venerable form in his manly arms, and promisedhim news of his life and safety. "May I die, " cried the old man, "ereI hear it is otherwise! But youth is no warrant for life; the vigor ofthose arms cannot always assure themselves of victory; and should youfall, where would be our country?"

"With a better than I, " returned the chief, "in the arms of God. Hewill fight for Scotland when Wallace is laid low. " Halbert wept. Butthe trumpet sounded for the field. He blessed his lord, and theyparted forever. 

A strong force from the Highlands joined the troops from Stirling; andWallace had the satisfaction of seeing before him thirty thousandwell-appointed men eager for the fight. With all Scotland pressing onhis heart, his eye lingered for a moment on the distant towers ofBothwell; but not delaying a moment, he placed himself at the head ofhis legions, and set forth through a country now budding with all thecharms of the cultivation he had spread over it. In the midst of afine glen of renovated corn fields, he was met by a courier from SirRoger Kirkpatrick, with information that the Northumbrians, beingapprised of King Edward's approach, were assembling in immense bodies;and having crossed the debatable land in the night, had driven SirEustace Maxwell, with great loss, into Carlaveroch; and though harassedby Kirkpatrick himself, were ravaging the country as far as Dumfries. The letter of the brave knight added, "These Southron thieves blow thename of Edward before them, and with its sound have spell-bound thecourage of every soul I meet. Come then, valiant Wallace, and conjureit down again, else I shall not be surprised if the men of Annandalebind me hand and foot, and deliver me up to Algernon Percy (the leaderof this inroad), to purchase mercy to their cowardice. "

Wallace made no reply to this message, and proclaiming to his men thatthe enemy were in Dumfriesshire, every foot was put to the speed; andin a short time they arrived on the ridgy summits of the easternmountains of Clydesdale. His troops halted for rest near the villageof Biggar; and it being night, he ascended to the top of the highestcraig, and lighted a fire, whose far-streaming light he hoped wouldsend the news of his approach to Annandale. The air being calm andclear, the signal rose in such a long pyramid of flame, that distantshouts of rejoicing were heard breaking the deep silence of the hour. A moment after a hundred answering beacons burned along the horizon. Torthorald saw the propitious blaze; he showed it to his terrifiedfollowers. "Behold that hill of fire!" cried he, "and cease todespair. " "Wallace comes!" was their response; "and we will do ordie!"**

**The mountain from which this beacon sent its rays has from that hourbeen called Tinto or Tintoc (which signifies the Hill of Fire), and isyet regarded by the country people with a devotion almost idolatrous. Its height is about 2, 260 feet from the sea. 

Day broke upon Wallace as he crossed the heights of Drumlaurig, andpouring his thousands over the almost deserted valleys of Annandale, like a torrent he swept the invaders back upon their steps. He tookyoung Percy prisoner, and leaving him shut up in Lochmaben, drove hisflying vassals far beyond the borders. 

Annandale again free, he went into its various quarters, and summoningthe people (who now crept from their caves and woods, to shelter underhis shield), he reproved them for their cowardice; and showed them, that unless every man possesses a courage equal to his general, he mustexpect to fall under the yoke of the enemy. "Faith in a leader isgood, " said he; "but not such a faith as leaves him to act, withoutyourselves rendering that assistance to your own preservation, whichHeaven itself commands. When absent from you in person, I left myspirit with you in the brave Knights of Carlaveroch and Torthorald, andyet you fled. Had I been here, and you done the same, the like musthave been the consequence. What think you is in my arm, that I shouldalone stem your enemies? The expectation is extravagant and false. Iam but the head of the battle, you are the aims; if you shrink, I fall, and the cause is ruined. You follow my call to the field, you fightvaliantly, and I win the day! Respect then yourselves; and believethat you are the sinews, the nerves, the strength of Sir WilliamWallace!"

Some looked manfully up at this exhortation; but most hung their headsin remembered shame, while he continued: "Dishonor not your fathers andyour trust in God by relying on any one human arm, or doubting thatfrom heaven. Be confident that while the standard of true liberty isbefore you, you fight under God's banner. See how I in that faithdrove these conquering Northumbrians before me like frighted roes. Youmight, and must do the same, or the sword of Wallace is drawn in vain. Partake my spirit, brethren of Annandale; fight as stoutly over mygrave as by my side, or before the year expires you will again be theslaves of Edward. "

Such language, while it covered the fugitives with confusion of face, awoke emulation in all to efface with honorable deeds the memory oftheir disgrace. With augmented forces he therefore marched intoCumberland; and having drawn up his array between a river and a highground, which he covered with archers, he stood prepared to meet theapproach of King Edward. 

But Edward did not appear till late in the next day; and then the Scotsdescried his legions advancing from the horizon to pitch their vanguardon the plain of Stanmore. Wallace knew that for the first time he wasnow going to pit his soldiership against that of the greatest generalin Christendom. But he did not shrink from measuring him arm to armand mind to mind, for the assurance of his cause was in both. 

His present aim was to draw the English toward the Scottish lines, where, at certain distances, he had dug deep pits; and having coveredthem lightly with twigs and loose grass, left them as traps for theSouthron cavalry; for in cavalry, he was told by his spies, wouldconsist the chief strength of Edward's army. The waste in whichWallace had laid the adjoining counties, rendered the provisioning ofso large a host difficult; and besides, as it was composed of a mixedmultitude from every land on which the King of England had set hisinvading foot, harmony could not be expected to continue amongst itsleaders. Delay was therefore an advantage to the Scottish regent; andobserving that his enemy held back, as if he wished to draw him fromhis position, he determined not to stir, although he might seem to bestruck with awe of so great an adversary. 

To this end he offered him peace, hoping either to obtain what he asked(which he did not deem probable), or, by filling Edward with an idea ofhis fear, urge him to precipitate himself forward, to avoid the dangerof a prolonged sojourn in so barren a country, and to take Wallace, ashe might think, in his panic. Instructing his heralds what to say, hesent them on to Roycross, near which the tent of the King of Englandwas pitched. Supposing that his enemy was now at his feet, and readyto beg the terms he had before objected, Edward admitted theembassadors, and bade them deliver their message. Without furtherparley the herald spoke. 

"Thus saith Sir William Wallace. Were it not that the kings and noblesof the realm of Scotland have ever asked redress of injuries beforethey sought revenge, you King of England, and invader of our country, should not now behold orators in your camp, persuading concord, but anarmy in battle array, advancing to the onset. Our lord regent being ofthe ancient opinion of his renowned predecessors, that the greatestvictories are never of such advantage to a conqueror as an honorableand bloodless peace, sends to offer this peace to you at the price ofrestitution. The lives you have rifled from us you cannot restore, butthe noble Lord Douglas, whom you now unjustly detain a prisoner, wedemand; and that you retract those claims on our monarchy, which neverhad existence till ambition begot them on the basest treachery. Grantthese just requisitions, and we lay down our arms; but continue to denythem, and our nations is ready to rise to a man, and with heart andhand avenge the injuries we have sustained. You have wasted our lands, burned our towns, and imprisoned our nobility. Without considerationof age or condition, women, children, and feeble old men haveunresisting fallen by your sword. And why was all this? Did ourconfidence in your honor offend you, that you put our chieftains indurance, and deprived our yeomanry of their lives? Did thebenedictions with which our prelates hailed you as the arbitratorbetween our princes, raise your ire, that you burned their churches, and slew them on the altars? These, O king, were thy deeds, and forthese William Wallace is in arms. But yield us the peace weask-withdraw from our quarters-relinquish your unjust pretensions, andwe shall once more consider Edward of England as the kinsman ofAlexander the Third, and his subjects the friends and allies of ourrealm. "

Not in the least moved by this address, Edward contemptuously answered, "Intoxicated by a transitory success, your leader is vain enough tosuppose that he can discomfort the King of England, as he has done hisunworthy officers, by fierce and insolent words; but we are not so weakas to be overthrown by a breath, nor so base as to bear argument from arebel. I come to claim my own, to assert my supremacy over Scotland;and it shall acknowledge its liege lord, or be left a desert, without aliving creature to say, 'This was a kingdom. ' Depart, this is myanswer to you; your leader shall receive his at the point of my lance. "

Wallace, who did not expect a more favorable reply, ere his embassadorsreturned had marshaled his lines for the onset. Lord Bothwell, withMurray, his valiant son, took the lead on the left wing; Sir EustaceMaxwell and Kirkpatrick commanded on the right. Graham (in whose quickobservation and promptitude to bring it to effect, Wallace placed thefirst confidence) held the reserve behind the woods; and the regenthimself, with Edwin and his brave standard-bearer, occupied the center. Having heard the report of his messengers, he repeated to his troopsthe lines, he exhorted them to remember that on that day the eyes ofall Scotland would be upon them. They were the first of their countrywho had gone forth to meet the tyrant in a pitched battle; and inproportion to the danger they confronted, would be their meed of glory. "But it is not for renown merely that you are called upon to fightthis day, " said he; "your rights, your homes are at stake. You have nohope of security for your lives but in an unswerving determination tokeep the field, and let the world see how much more might lies in thearms of a few contending for their country and herediatry liberties, than in hosts which seek for blood and spoil. Slavery and freedom liebefore you! Shrink but one backward step, and yourselves are inbondage, your wives become the prey of violence. Be firm-trust Him whoblesses the righteous cause, and victory will crown your arms!"

Though affecting to despise his young opponent, Edward was too good ageneral really to condemn an enemy who had so often proved himselfworthy of respect; and therefore, by declaring his determination to putall the Scottish chieftains to death, and to transfer their estates tohis conquering officers, he stimulated their avarice, as well as loveof fame, and with every passion in arms, they pushed to the combat. 

Wallace stood unmoved. Not a bow was drawn till the impetuoussquadrons, in full charge toward the flanks of the Scots, fell into thepits; then it was that the Highland archers on the hill launched theirarrows; the plunging horses were instantly overwhelmed by others whocould not be checked in their career. New showers of darts rained uponthem, and, sticking into their flesh, made them rear and roll upontheir riders; while others, who were wounded, but had escaped the pits, flew back in rage of pain upon the advancing infantry. A confusionensued, so perilous, that the king thought it necessary to precipitatehimself forward, and in person attack the main body of his adversary, which yet stood inactive. Giving the spur to his charger, he orderedhis troops to press on over the struggling heaps before them; and beingobeyed, with much difficulty and great loss, he passed the first rangeof pits; but a second and wider awaited him; and there, seeing his mensink into them by squadrons, he beheld the whole army of Wallace closein upon them. Terrific was now the havoc. The very numbers of theSouthrons, and the mixed discipline of their army, proved its bane. Inthe tumult they hardly understood the orders which were given; and somemistaking them, acted so contrary to the intended movements, thatEdward, galloping from one end of the field to the other, appeared likea frantic man, regardless of every personal danger, so that he couldbut fix others to front the same tempest of death with himself. Hisofficers trembled at every step he took, for fear that some of thesecret pits should ingulf him. 

However, the unshrinking courage of their monarch rallied a part of thedistracted army, which, with all the force of desperation, he droveagainst the center of the Scots. But at this juncture, the reserveunder Graham, having turned the royal position, charged him in therear; and the archers redoubling their discharge of artillery, theFlanderkins, who were in the van of Edward, suddenly giving way withcries of terror, the amazed king found himself obliged to retreat, orrun the risk of being taken. He gave a signal-the first of the kind hehad ever sounded in his life-and drawing his English troops around him, after much hard fighting, fell back in tolerable order beyond theconfines of his camp. 

The Scots were eager to pursue him, but Wallace checked the motion. "Let us not hunt the lion till he stand at bay!" cried he. "He willretire far enough from the Scottish borders, without our leaving thisvantage ground to drive him. "

What Wallace said came to pass. Soon no vestige of a Southron soldier, but the dead which strewed the road, was to be seen from side to sideof the wide horizon. The royal camp was immediately seized by thetriumphant Scots; and the tent of King Edward, with its costlyfurniture, was sent to Stirling as a trophy of the victory. 

Chapter L. 

Stirling. 

Many chieftains from the north had come to Stirling, to be nearintelligence from the borders. They were aware that this meetingbetween Wallace and Edward must be the crisis of their fate. The fewwho remained in the citadel, of those who had borne the brunt of theopening of this glorious revolution for their country, were full ofsanguine expectations. They had seen the prowess of their leader, theyhad shared the glory of his destiny, and they feared not that Edwardwould deprive him of one ray. But they who, at their utmost wilds ofHighlands, had only heard his fame; though they had afterward seen himamongst themselves, transforming the mountain-savage into a civilizedman and disciplined soldier; though they had felt the effects of hismilitary successes; yet they doubted how his fortunes might stand theshock of Edward's happy star. The lords whom he had released from theSouthron prisons were all of the same apprehensive opinion; for theyknew what numbers Edward could bring against the Scottish power, andhow hitherto unrivaled was his skill in the field. "Now, " thought LordBadenoch, "will this brave Scot find the difference between fightingwith the officers of a king and a king himself, contending for what hedetermines shall be a part of his dominions!" Full of this idea, andresolving never to fall into the hands of Edward again (for the conductof Wallace had made the earl ashamed of his long submission to theusurpation of rights to which he had a claim), he kept a vessel inreadiness at the mouth of the Forth, to take him, as soon as the newsof the regent's defeat should arrive, far from the sad consequences, toa quiet asylum in France. 

The meditations of Athol, Buchan, and March, were of a differenttendency. It was their design, on the earliest intimation of suchintelligence, to set forth, and be the first to throw themselves at thefeet of Edward, and acknowledge him their sovereign. Thus, withvarious projects in their heads (which none but the three last breathedto each other), were several hundred expecting chiefs assembled roundthe Earl of Mar; when Edwin Ruthven, glowing with all the effulgence ofhis general's glory, and his own, rushed into the hall; and throwingthe royal standard of England on the ground, exclaimed, "There lies thesupremacy of King Edward!"

Every man started to his feet. "You do not mean, " cried Athol, "thatKing Edward has been beaten?"

"He has been beaten, and driven off the field!" returned Edwin. "Thesedispatches, " added he, laying them on the table before his uncle, "willrelate every particular. A hard battle our regent fought, for ourenemies were numberless; but a thousand good angels were his allies, and Edward himself fled. I saw the king, after he had thrice ralliedhis troops and brought them to the charge, at last turn and fly. Itwas at that moment I wounded his standard-bearer, and seized thisdragon. "

"Thou art worthy of thy general, brave Ruthven!" cried Badenoch toEdwin. "James, " added he, addressing his eldest son, who had justarrived from France, "what is left to us to show ourselves also ofScottish blood? Heaven has given him all!"

Lord Mar, who had stood in speechless gratitude, opened the dispatches;and finding a circumstantial narrative of the battle, with accounts ofthe previous embassies, he read them aloud. Their contents excited avariety of emotions. When the nobles heard that Edward had offeredWallace the crown; when they found that by vanquishing that powerfulmonarch, he had subdued even the soul of the man who had hitherto heldthem all in awe; though in the same breath, they read that their regenthad refused royalty; and was now, as a servant of the people, preparingto strengthen their borders; yet the most extravagant suspicions awokein almost every breast. The eagle flight of his glory, seemed to haveraised him so far above their heads, so beyond their power to restrainor to elevate him, that an envy, dark as Erebus--a jealousy which atonce annihilated every grateful sentiment, every personalregard--passed like electricity from heart to heart. The eye, turningfrom one to the other, explained what no lip dared utter. A deadsilence reigned, while the demon of hatred was taking possession ofalmost every beast; and none but the Lords Mar, Badenoch, and Loch-awe, escaped the black contagion. 

When the meeting broke up, Lord Mar placed himself at the head of theofficers of the garrison, and with a herald holding the banner ofEdward beneath the colors of Scotland, rode forth to proclaim to thecountry the decisive victory of its regent. Badenoch and Loch-awe leftthe hall, to hasten with the tidings to Snawdoun. The rest of thechiefs dispersed. But as if actuated by one spirit, they were seenwandering about the outskirts of the town, where they soon drewtogether in groups, and whispered among themselves these and similarstatements: "He refused the crown offered to him in the field by thepeople; he rejected it from Edward, because he would reignuncontrolled. He will now seize it as a conqueror, and we shall havean upstart's foot upon our necks. If we are to be slaves, let us havea tyrant of our own choosing. "

As the trumpets before Lord Mar blew the loud acclaim of triumph, Atholsaid to Buchan, "Cousin, that is but the forerunner of what we shallhear to announce the usurpation of this Wallace. And shall we sittamely by, and have our birthright wrested from us by a man ofyesterday? No; if the race of Alexander be not to occupy the throne, let us not hesitate between the monarch of a mighty nation and alow-born tyrant, between him who will at least gild our chains withchivalric honors, and an upstart, whose domination must be as stern asdebasing!"

Murmurings such as these, passing from chief to chief, descended to theminor chieftains, who held lands in fee of those more sovereign lords. Petty interests extinguished gratitude for general benefits; and bysecret meetings, at the heads of which were Athol, Buchan, and March, aconspiracy was formed to overset the power of Wallace. They were toinvite Edward once more to take possession of the kingdom; andmeanwhile, to accomplish this with certainty, each chief was to assumea pre-eminent zeal for the regent. March was to persuade Wallace tosend him to Dunbar as governor of the Lothiaus, to hold the refractorySoulis in check; and to divide the public cares of Lord Dundaff; who, indeed, found Berwick a sufficient charge for his age and comparativeinactivity. "Then, " cried the false Cospatrick, ** "when I am fixed atDunbar, Edward may come round from Newcastle to that port; and, by yourmanagement, he must march unmolested to Stirling, and seize the usurperon his throne. "

**The name by which Patrick Dunbar, Earl of March, was familiarlycalled. 

Such suggestions met with full approval from these dark incendiaries;and as their meetings were usually held at night, they walked forth inthe day with cheerful countenances, and joined the general rejoicing. 

They feared to hint even a word of their intentions to Lord Badenoch;for, on Buchan having expressed some discontent to him, at the homagethat was paid to a man so much their inferior, his answer was, "Had weacted worthy of our birth, Sir William Wallace never could have had theopportunity to rise upon our disgrace. But as it is, we must submit, or bow to treachery instead of virtue. " This reply determined them tokeep their proceedings secret from him, and also from Lady Mar; forboth Lord Buchan and Lord Athol had, at different times, listened tothe fond dreams of her love and ambition. They had flattered her withentering into her designs. Athol gloomily affected acquiescence, thathe might render himself master of all that was in her mind, and, perhaps, in that of her lover; for he did not doubt that Wallace was asguilty as her wishes would have made him. And Buchan, ever ready toyield to the persuasions of woman, was not likely to refuse, when hisfair cousin promised to reward him with all the pleasures of the gayestcourt in Europe. For, indeed, both lords had conceived, from theevident failing state of her veteran husband, in consequence of theunhealing condition of one of his wounds, that it might not be longbefore this visionary game would be thrown into her hands. 

Thus were they situated, when the news of Wallace's decisive victory, distancing all their means to raise him who was now at the pinnacle ofpower, determined the dubious to become at once his mortal enemies. Lord Badenoch had listened with a different temper to the firstbreathings of Lady Mar on her favorite subject. He told her, if thenation chose to make their benefactor king, he should not oppose it;because he thought that none of the blood royal deserved to wear thecrown which they had all consented to hold in fee of Edward; yet hewould never promote by intrigue an election which must rob his ownposterity of their inheritance. But when she gave hints of herbecoming one day the wife of Wallace, he turned on her with a frown. "Cousin, " said he, "beware how you allow so guilty an idea to takepossession of your heart! It is the parent of dishonor and death. Anddid I think that Sir William Wallace were capable of sharing yourwishes, I would be the first to abandon his standard. But I believehim too virtuous to look on a married woman with the eyes of passion;and that he holds the houses of Mar and Cummin in too high a respect tobreathe an illicit sigh in the ear of my kinswoman. "

Despairing of making the impression she desired on the mind of thissevere relative, Lady Mar spoke to him no more on the subject. AndLord Badenoch, ignorant that she had imparted her criminal project tohis brother and cousin, believed that his reproof had performed hercure. Thus flattering himself, he made no hesitations to be the firstwho should go to Snawdoun, to communicate to her the brilliantdispatches of the regent, and to declare the freedom of Scotland to benow almost secured. He and Lord Loch-awe set forth; but they had beensome time preceded by Edwin. 

The moment the countess heard the name of her nephew announced, shemade a sign for her ladies to withdraw, and starting forward at hisentrance, "Speak!" cried she; "tell me, Edwin, is the regent still aconqueror?"

"Where are my mother and Helen, " replied he, "to share my tidings?"

"Then they are good!" exclaimed lady mar, with one of her bewitchingsmiles. "Ah! you sly one, like your chief, you know your power!"

"And like him I exercise it, " replied he, gayly; "therefore, to keepyour ladyship no longer in suspense, here is a letter from the regenthimself. " He presented it as he spoke, and she, catching it from him, turned round, and pressing it rapturously to her lips (it being thefirst she had ever received from him), eagerly ran over its briefcontents. While reperusing it--for she could not tear her eyes fromthe beloved characters--Lady Ruthven and Helen entered the room. Theformer hastened forward, the latter trembled as she moved, for she didnot yet know the information which her cousin brought. But the firstglance of his face told her all was safe, and as he broke from hismother's embrace, to clasp Helen in his arms, she fell upon his neck, and, with a shower of tears, whispered, "Wallace lives? Is well?"

"As you would wish him, " rewhispered he, "and with Edward at his feet. "

"Thank God, thank God!"

While she spoke, Lady Ruthven exclaimed: "But how is our regent?Speak, Edwin! How is the delight of all hearts?"

"Still the Lord of Scotland, " answered he; "the invincible dictator ofher enemies! The puissant Edward has acknowledged the power of SirWilliam Wallace, and after being beaten on the plain of Stanmore, isnow making the best of his way toward his own capital. "

Lady Mar again and again pressed the cold letter of Wallace to herburning bosom. "The regent does not mention these matters in hisletter to me, " said she, casting an exulting glance over the glowingface of Helen. But Helen did not notice it; she was listening toEdwin, who, with joyous animation, related every particular that hadbefallen Wallace from the time of his rejoining him to that verymoment. The countess heard all with complacency, till he mentioned theissue of the conference with Edward's first embassadors. "Fool!"exclaimed she to herself, "to throw away the golden opportunity, thatmay never return!" Not observing her disturbance, Edwin went on withhis narrative; every word of which spread the eloquent countenance ofHelen with admiration and joy. 

Since her heroic heart had wrung from it all selfish wishes with regardto Wallace, she allowed herself to openly rejoice in his success, andto look up unabashed when the resplendent glories of his character werebrought before her. None but Edwin made her feel her exclusion fromher soul's only home, by dwelling on his gentle virtues; by portrayingthe exquisite tenderness of his nature, which seemed to enfold theobjects of his love in his heart of hearts. When Helen thought onthese discourses she would sigh, but it was a sigh of resignation, andshe loved to meditate on the words which Edwin had carelesslyspoken--that "she made herself a nun for Wallace!" "And so I will, "said she to herself; "and that resolution stills every wild emotion. All is innocence in heaven, Wallace! You will there read my soul, andlove me as a sister. "

In such a frame of mind did she listen to the relation of Edwin; didher animated eye welcome the entrance of Badenoch and Loch-awe, andtheir enthusiastic encomiums on the lord of her heart. Then soundedthe trumpet; and the herald's voice in the streets proclaimed thevictory of the regent. Lady mar rushed to the window, as if there shewould see himself. Lady Ruthven followed, and as the acclamations ofthe people echoed through the air, Helen pressed the precious cross ofWallace to her bosom and hastily left the room to enjoy the rapture ofher thoughts in the blessed retirement of her own oratory. 

In the course of a few days, after the promulgation of all this happyintelligence, it was announced that the regent was on his return toStirling. Lady Mar was not so inebriated with her vain hopes as toforget that Helen might traverse the dearest of them, should she againpresent herself to its object. She therefore hastened to her when thetime of his expected arrival drew near; and putting on all the matron, affected to give her the counsel of a mother. 

As all the noble families around Stirling would assemble to hail thevictor's return, the countess said, she came to advise her, inconsideration of what had passed in the chapel before the regent'sdeparture, not to submit herself to the observation of so many eyes. Not suspecting the occult devices which worked in her stepmother'sheart, Helen meekly acquiesced, with the reply, "I shall obey. " Butshe inwardly thought, "I, who know the heroism of his soul, need notpageants nor acclamations of the multitude to tell me what he is. Heis already too bring for my senses to support, and with his imagepressing on my heart, it is mercy to let me shrink from his gloriouspresence. 

The "obey" was sufficient for Lady Mar; she had gained her point. Forthough she did not seriously think (what she had affected to believe)that anything more had passed between Wallace and Helen than what theyhad openly declared, yet she could not but discern the harmony of theirminds, and she feared that frequent intercourse might draw suchsympathy to something dearer. She had understanding to perceive hisvirtues, but they found no answering qualities in her breast. Thematchless beauty of his person, the penetrating tenderness of hismanner, the splendor of his fame, the magnitude of his power, allunited to set her impassioned and ambitious soul in a blaze. Eachopposing duty seemed only a vapor through which she could easily passto the goal of her desire. Hence art of every kind appeared to her tobe no more than a means of acquiring the object most valuable to her inlife. Education had not given her any principle by which she mighthave checked the headlong impulse of her now aroused passions. Broughtup as a worshiped object, in the little court of her parents, atKirkwall, in the Orkneys, her father the Earl of Strathern, inScotland, and her mother being a princess of Norway, whose dowrybrought him the sovereignty of those isles, their daughter never knewany law but her own will, from her doting mother. And on the fearfulloss of that mother, in a marine excursion of pleasure, by an accidentoversetting the boat she was in, the bereaved daughter fell into such adespair, on her first pang of grief of any kind, that her similarlydistracted father (whose little dominions happened then to be menacedby a descent of the Danes) sought a safe and cheering home for his onlychild, at the interesting age of seventeen, by sending her over sea, tothe protecting care of his long-affianced friend, the Earl of Mar, andto his lovely countess, then an only three years' wife with one infantdaughter. 

Though fond of admiration, the young Joanna of Orkney had held herselfat too high a price, to bestow a thought on the crowd of rough sons ofthe surge (chiefs of the surrounding isles, who owned her father aslord), who daily adulated her charms with all the costliest trophiesfrom their ocean-spoils. She trod past them, and by all the femalebeauties in her isle, with the step of an undisputed right to receive, and to despise. But when she crossed to the mainland, and foundherself by the side of a woman almost as young as herself, and equallybeautiful, though of a different mold, soft and retreating, while herscommanded and compelled; and that the husband of that woman, whosetender adoration hovered over her with a perpetual eye; that he, thoughof comparative veteran years, was handsomer than any man she had everseen, and fraught with every noble grace to delight the female heart;she felt what she had never done before, that she had met a rival andan object worthy to subdue. 

What Joanna began in mere excited vanity, jealous pride, and ambitionof conquest, ended in a fatal attachment to the husband of herinnocent and too confiding protectress. And he, alas! betrayed, firstby her insidious wiles, and then by her overpowering and apparentlyrestrainless demonstrations of devoted love, was so far won "from thepropriety" of his noble heart, as to regard with a grateful admiration, as well as a manly pity, the beautiful victim of a passion he had sounwittingly raised. In the midst of these scenes, too often acted forhis peace (though not for his honor and fidelity to his marriage vow), his beloved Isabella, the wife of his bosom, and till then the joy ofhis life, died in the pangs of a premature confinement, breathing herlast sigh in the birth of a daughter. Scarcely was the countessconsigned to her bed of earth, and even in the hour after the lastduties were paid to her, whose closed tomb seemed to have left unto him"his house desolate!" when the heart-desperate Joanna rushed into theweeping husband's presence, fearful of being now restraininglyreclaimed by her father, who had, only a short while before, intimatedhis intention to relieve his friends of a guardianship they had sopartially fulfilled, and to send a vessel for his daughter, to bringher back to Kirkwall, there to be united in marriage to the bravenative chieftain, whose singular prowess had preserved the island froma Danish yoke. Dreading this event, even while her siren tears mingledwith those of the widowed Mar, she wrought on him, by lavishprotestations of a devoted love for his two infant orphans (Helen, thena child of hardly two years, and the poor babe whose existence had justcost its mother her life)--also of a never-dying dedication of herselfto that mother's memory, and to the tenderest consolations of his ownmourning spirit, she wrought upon him to rescue her from hernow-threatened abhorrent fate, even to give her his vow--to wed herhimself! In the weakness of an almost prostrated mind, under the loadof conflicting anguish which then lay upon him--for now feeling his ownculpable infirmity, in having suffered this dangerously flatteringpreference of him to have ever showed itself to him, without his havingdown his positive duty, by sending her home at once to her properprotector--in a sudden self-immolating agony of self-blame, he assentedto her heart-wringing supplication, that as soon as propriety wouldpermit, she should become his wife. 

The Earl of Strathern arrived himself within the week, to condole withhis friend, and to take back his daughter. But the scene he met, changed his ultimate purpose. Joanna declared, that were she to becarried away to marry any man save that friend, whose protection, during the last six months, had been to her as that of all relatives inone, she should expire on the threshold of Castle Braemer, for shenever would cross it alive! And as the melancholy widower, butgrateful lover, verified his vow to her, by repeating it to herfather--within four months from that day, the Earl of Mar rejoined theLady Joanna at Kirkwall, and brought her away as his bride. But toavoid exciting any invidious remarks, by immediately appearing inScotland after such prompt nuptials, the new countess, wary in hertriumph, easily persuaded her husband to take her for awhile to France;where, assuming a cold and majestic demeanor, which she thoughtbecoming her royal descent, she resided several years. Thus changed, she returned to Scotland. She found the suspicion of any formerindiscretion faded from all minds, and passing her time in the statelyhospitalities of her lord's castles, conducted herself with a matronlydignity, that made him the envy of all the married chieftains in hisneighborhood. Soon after her arrival at Kildrumy on the River Dee, herthen most favorite residence, she took the Lady Helen, the supplantedIsabella's first-born daughter, from her grandfather at Thirlestance, where both children had been left on the departure of their father andhis bride for France. Though hardly past the period of absolutechildhood, the Lord Soulis at this time offered the young heiress ofMar his hand. The countess had then no interest in wishing the union;having not yet any children of her own, to make her jealous for theirfather's love, she permitted her daughter-in-law to decide as shepleased. A second time he presented himself, and Lady Mar, stillindifferent, allowed Helen a second time to refuse him. Years flewover the heads of the ill-joined pair; but while they whitened theraven locks of the earl, and withered his manly brow, the beauty of hiscountess blew into fuller luxuriance. 

Yet it was her mirror aloe that told her she was fairer than all theladies around, for none durst invade the serene decorum of her manners, with so light a whisper. Such was her state, when she first heard ofthe rise of Sir William Wallace, and when she thought that her husbandmight not only lose his life, but risk the forfeiture of his familyhonors, by joining him, for her own sake and for her children's (havingrecently become the mother of twins), she had then determined, if itwere necessary, to make the outlawed chief a sacrifice. To this end, she became willing to bribe Soulis' participation, by the hand ofHelen. She knew that her daughter-in-law abhorred his character, butlove, indifference, or hatred, she now thought of little consequence ina marriage which brought sufficient antidotes in rank and wealth. Shehad never felt what real love was, and her personal vanity being nolonger agitated by the raptures of a frantic rivalry, she now livedtranquilly with Lord Mar. What then was her astonishment, what thewild distraction of her heart, when she first beheld Sir WilliamWallace, and found in her breast for him, all which, in the moment ofthe most unreflecting intoxication, she had ever felt for her lord, with the addition of feelings and sentiments, the existence of whichshe had never believed, but now knew in all their force! Love for thefirst time penetrated through every nerve of her body, and possessedher whole mind. Taught a theory of virtue by her husband, she wasstartled at wishes which militated against his honor, but no principlesbeing grounded in her mind, they soon disappeared before the furiouscharge of his passions, and after a short struggle she surrenderedherself to the lawless power of a guilty and ambitious love. Wishes, hopes, and designs, which two years before, she would have shudderedat, as not only sinful but derogatory to female delicacy, she nowembraced with ardor, and naught seemed dreadful to her butdisappointment. The prolonged life of Lord Mar cost her many tears, for the master-passions of her nature, which she had laid asleep on hermarriage with the earl, broke out with redoubled violence at the sightof Wallace. His was the most perfect of manly forms--and she loved; hewas great--and her ambition blazed into an unextinguishable flame. These two strong passions, meeting in a breast weakened by thebesetting sin of her youth, their rule was absolute, and neithervirtue, honor, nor humanity could stand before them. Her husband wasabhorred, her infant son forgotten, and nothing but Wallace and a crowncould find a place in her thoughts. 

CHAPTER LI. 

Stirling and Snawdoun. 

The few chieftains who had remained on their estates during thesuspense before the battle, from a belief that if the issue provedunfavorable they should be safest amongst their native glens, now camewith numerous trains to greet the return of their victorious regent. The ladies brought forth their most splendid apparel; and the houses ofStirling were hung with tapestry to hail with due respect thebenefactor of the land. 

At last the hour arrived when a messenger, whom Lord Mar had sent outfor the purpose, returned on full speed with information that theregent was passing the Carron. At these tidings the animated old earlcalled out his retinue, mounted his coal-black steed, and ordered asumptuous charger to be caparisoned with housings wrought in gold bythe hands of Lady Mar and her ladies. The horse was intended to meetWallace and to bring him into the city. Edwin led it forward. In therear of the Earls Mar and Badenoch came all the chieftains of thecountry, in gallant array. Their ladies, on splendid palfreys, followed the superb car of the Countess of Mar; and, preceding themultitudes of Stirling, left the town a desert. Not a living beingseemed now within its walls except the Southron prisoners, who hadassembled on the top of the citadel to view the return of theirconqueror. 

Helen remained in Snawdoun, believing that she was the only soul leftin that vast palace. She sat musing on the extraordinary fate ofWallace, a few months ago a despised outlaw, at this moment the idol ofthe nation! And then turned to herself--the wooed of many a gallantheart, and now devoted to one, whom, like the sun, she must evercontemplate with admiration, while he should pass on above her sphere, unconscious of the devotion which filled her soul. 

The distant murmur of the populace thronging out of the streets towardthe Carse, gradually subsided; and at last she was left in profoundsilence. "He must be near, " thought she, "he whose smile is moreprecious to me than the adulation of all the world besides, now smilesupon every one! All look upon him, all hear him, but I-and I-ah, Wallace, did Marion love thee dearer?" As her devoted heart demandedthis question, her tender and delicate soul shrunk within herself, anddeeply blushing, she hid her face in her hands. A pause of a fewminutes-and a sound as if the skies were rent, tore the air; a noise, like the distant roar of the sea, succeeded; and soon after, the shoutsof an approaching multitude shook the palace to its foundations. Helenstarted on her feet; the tumult of voices augmented; the sound ofcoming squadrons thundered over the ground. At this instant every bellin the city began its peals, and the door of Helen's room suddenlyopened--Lady Ruthven hurried in. "Helen, " cried she, "I would notdisturb you before; but as you were to be absent, I would not make onein Lady Mar's train; and I come to enjoy with you the return of ourbeloved regent!"

Helen did not speak, but her eloquent countenance amply told her auntwhat were the emotions of her heart; and Lady Ruthven taking her hand, attempted to draw her toward an oriel window which opened to a view ofthe High Street; but Helen, shrinking from the movement, begged to beexcused. "I hear enough, " said she, "my dear aunt; sights like theseovercome me; let me remain where I am. "

Lady Ruthven was going to remonstrate, when the loud huzzas of thepeople and soldiers, accompanied by acclamations of "Long livevictorious Wallace, our prince and king!" struck Helen back into herseat, and Lady Ruthven darting toward the window, cried aloud, "Hecomes, Helen, he comes! His bonnet off his noble brow. Oh! howprincely does he look!--and now he bows. Ah, they shower flowers uponhim from the houses on each side of the street; how sweetly he smilesand bows to the ladies as they lean from their windows! Come, Helen, come, if you would see the perfection of majesty and modesty united inone!"

Helen did not move; but Lady Ruthven stretching out her arm, in amoment had drawn her within view of Wallace. She saw him attended as aconqueror and a king; but with the eyes of a benefactor and a brotherhe looked on all around. The very memory of war seemed to vanishbefore his presence, for all there was love and gentleness. Helen drewa quick sigh, and closing her eyes, dropped against the arras. She nowheard the buzz of many voices, the rolling peal of acclamations, butshe distinguished nothing; her senses were in tumults; and had not LadyRuthven seen her disorder, she would have fallen motionless to thefloor. The good matron was not so forgetful of the feelings of avirtuous youthful heart, not to have discovered something of what waspassing in that of her niece. From the moment in which she hadsuspected that Wallace had made a serious impression there, she droppedall trifling with his name. And now that she saw the distressingeffects of that impression, with revulsed feelings she took thefainting Helen in her arms, and laying her on a couch, by the aid ofvolatiles restored her to recollection. Seeing she recovered, she madeno observation on this emotion, and Helen leaned her head and wept uponthe bosom of her aunt. Lady Ruthven's tears silently mingled withhers; but she said within herself, "Wallace cannot be always insensibleto so much excellence!"

As the acclaiming populace passed the palace on their way to thecitadel, whither they were escorting their regent, Helen remained quietin her leaning position; but when the noise died away into hoarsemurmurs, she raised her head, and glancing on the tear-bathed face ofher affectionate aunt, said, with a forced smile, "My more than mother, fear me not! I am grateful to Sir William Wallace; I venerate him asthe Southrons do their St. George, but I need not your tender pity. "As she spoke, her beautiful lip quivered, but her voice was steady. 

"My sweetest Helen, " replied Lady Ruthven, "how can I pity her for whomI hope everything. "

"Hope nothing for me, " returned Helen, understanding by her looks whather tongue had left unsaid, "but to see me a vestal here, and a saintin heaven. "

"What can my Helen mean?" replied Lady Ruthven; "who would talk ofbeing a vestal with such a heart in view as that of the Regent ofScotland? and that it will be yours, does not his eloquent gratitudedeclare?"

"No, my aunt, " answered Helen, casting down her eyes; "gratitude iseloquent where love would be silent. I am not so sacrilegious as towish that Sir William Wallace should transfer that heart to me, whichthe blood of Marion forever purchased. No; should these people compelhim to be their king, I will retire to some monastery, and foreverdevote myself to God and to prayers for my country. "

The holy composure which spread over the countenance and figure ofHelen, as she uttered this, seemed to extend itself to the before eagermind of Lady Ruthven; she pressed her tenderly in her arms, and kissingher: "Gentlest of human beings!" cried she, "whatever be thy lot, itmust be happy. "

"Whatever it be, " answered Helen, "I know that there is an Almightyreason for it; I shall understand it in the world to come, and Icheerfully acquiesce in this. "

"Oh! that the ears of Wallace could hear thee!" cried Lady Ruthven. 

"They will, some time, my gracious aunt, " answered she, with an angelicsmile. 

"When? where, dearest?" asked Lady Ruthven, hoping that she began tohave fairer anticipations for herself. Helen answered not; butpointing to the sky, rose from her seat with an air as if she werereally going to ascend to those regions which seemed best fitted toreceive her pure spirit. Lady Ruthven gazed on her in speechlessadmiration; and without a word, or an impeding motion, felt Helensoftly kiss her hand, and with another seraphic smile, glide gentlyfrom her into her closet, and close the door. 

Far different were the emotions which agitated the bosoms of everyperson present at the entry of Sir William Wallace. All but himselfregarded it as the triumph of the King of Scotland. And while some ofthe nobles exulted in their future monarch, the major part felt thedemon of envy so possess their souls, that they who, before hisarrival, were ready to worship his name, now looked on the empire towhich he seemed borne on the hearts of the people, with a rancorousjealousy, which from that moment vowed his humiliation, or the fall ofScotland. The very tongues which in general acclaim, called loudest, "Long live our king!" belonged to those who, in the secret recesses oftheir souls, swore to work his ruin, and to make these full-blownhonors the means of his destruction. He had in vain tried to checkwhat his moderate desires deemed the extravagant gratitude of thepeople; but finding his efforts only excited still louderdemonstrations of their love, and knowing himself immovable in hisresolution to remain a subject of the crown, he rode on composedlytoward the citadel. 

Those ladies who had not retired from the cavalcade to hail theirregent a second time from their windows, preceded him in Lady Mar'strain to the hall, where she had caused a sumptuous feast to be spreadto greet his arrival. Two seats were placed under a canopy of cloth ofgold, at the head of the board. The countess stood there in all thesplendor of her ideal rank, and would have seated Wallace in the royalchair on her right hand, but he drew back. 

"I am only a guest in this citadel, " returned he; "and it would illbecome me to take the place of the master of the banquet. "

As he spoke, he looked on Lord Mar, who, understanding the language ofhis eyes, which never said the thing he would not, without a word tookthe kingly seat, and so disappointed the countess. By this refusal shestill found herself as no more than the Governor of Stirling's wife, when she had hoped a compliance with her cunning arrangement would havehinted to all that she was to be the future queen of their acknowledgedsovereign. They knew Wallace, saw his unshaken resolution in thisapparently slight action; but others who read his design in their ownambition, translated it differently, and deemed it only an artfulrejection of the appendages of royalty, to excite the impatience of thepeople to crown him in reality. 

As the ladies took their seats at the board, Edwin, who stood by thechair of his beloved lord, whispered:

"Our Helen is not here. "

Lady Mar overheard the name of Helen, but she could not distinguishWallace's reply; and fearing that some second assignation of more happytermination than that of the chapel might be designed, she determinedthat if Edwin were to be the bearer of a secret correspondence betweenthe man she loved and the daughter she hated, to deprive them speedilyof so ready an assistant. 

CHAPTER LII. 

Banks of the Forth. 

In the collected council of the following day, the Earl of March madehis treacherous request; and Wallace, trusting his vehement oaths offidelity (because he thought the versatile earl had now discovered histrue interest), granted him charge of the Lothians. The Lords Atholand Buchan were not backward in offering their services to the regent;and the rest of the discontented nobles, following the base example, with equal deceit bade him command their lives and fortunes. Whileasseverations of loyalty filled the walls of the council-hall, and thelauding rejoicings of the people still sounded from without, all spokeof security and confidence to Wallace; and never, perhaps, did he thinkhimself so absolute in the heart of Scotland as at the very moment whenthree-fourths of its nobility were plotting his destruction. 

Lord Loch-awe knew his own influence in the minds of the bravestchieftains. From the extent of his territories and his tried valor, hemight well have assumed the title of his great ancestor, and beencalled King of Woody Morven, but he was content with a patriarch's swayover so many valiant clans; and previous to the regent's appearance inthe council-hall he opened his intentions to the assembled lords. Someassented with real satisfaction; the rest readily acquiesced in whatthey had laid so sure a plan to circumvent. 

Wallace soon after entered. Loch-awe rising, stood forth before him;and, in a long and persuasive speech, once more declared the wishes ofthe nation that he would strike the decisive blow on the pretensions ofEdward, by himself accepting the crown. The Bishop of Dunkeld, with althe eloquence of learning and the most animated devotion to theinterest of Scotland, seconded the petition. Mar and Bothwell enforcedit. The disaffected lords thought proper to throw in theirconjurations also; and every voice but that of Badenoch poured forthfervent entreaties that he, their liberator, would grant thesupplication of the nation. 

Wallace rose, and every tongue was mute. "My gratitude to Scotlandincreases with my life; but my answer must still be the same--I cannotbe its king. "

At these words the venerable Loch-awe threw himself on his knees beforehim. "In my person, " cried he, "see Scotland at your feet! stillbleeding with the effects of former struggles for empire, she wouldthrow off all claims but those of virtue, and receive as her anointedsovereign, her father and deliverer! She has no more arguments toutter--these are her prayers, and thus I offer them. "

"Kneel not to me, brave Loch-awe!" cried Wallace; "nor believe themight of these victories lies so thoroughly on this arm that I dareoutrage its Maker. Were I to comply with your wishes, I should disobeyhim who has hitherto made me his happy agent; and how could I guard mykingdom from his vengeance? Your rightful king yet lives; he is analien from his country, but Heaven may return him to your prayers. Meanwhile, as his representative, as your soldier and protector, Ishall be blessed in wearing out my life. My ancestors were everfaithful to the blood of Alexander, and in the same fidelity I willdie. "

The firmness with which he spoke, and the determined expression of hisnoble countenance, convinced Loch-awe that he was not to be shaken; andrising from his knee, he bowed in silence. March whispered to Buchan, "Behold the hypocrite! But we shall unmask him. He thinks to blind usto his towering ambition, by this affected moderation. He will not becalled a king; because, with our own crown certain limitations are laidon the prerogative; but he will be our regent, that he may be ourdictator, and every day demand gratitude for voluntary services, which, performed as a king, could only be considered as his duty!"

When the council broke up, these sentiments were actively disseminatedamong the disaffected throng; and each gloomy recess in the woodsmurmured with seditious meetings. But every lip in the country atlarge breathed the name of Wallace, as they would have done a god's;while the land that he had blessed, bloomed on every hill and valleylike a garden. 

Stirling now exhibited a constant carnival; peace was in every heart, and joy its companion. As Wallace had commanded in the field, hedecided in the judgment-hall; and while all his behests were obeyedwith a promptitude which kept the machine of state constantly moving inthe most beautiful order, his bitterest enemies could not but secretlyacknowledge the perfection they were determined to destroy. 

His munificent hand stretched itself far and near, that all who hadshared the sufferings of Scotland might drink largely of herprosperity. The good Abbot of Scone was invited from his hermitage;and when he heard from the embassadors sent to him, that the braveyoung warrior whom he had entertained was the resistless Wallace, he nolonger thought of the distant and supine Bruce, but centered every wishfor his country in the authority of her deliverer. A few days broughthim to Stirling; and wishing to remain near the most constant residenceof his noble friend, he requested that, instead of being restored toScone, he might be installed in the vacant monastery of Cambus-Kenneth. Wallace gladly acquiesced; and the venerable abbot being told that hislate charge, the Lady Helen, was in the palace, went to visit her; andas he communicated his exultation and happiness, she rejoiced in thebenedictions which his grateful spirit invoked on the head of heralmost worshiped sovereign. Her heart gave him his title; which shebelieved the not-to-be-repressed affection of the people would at lastforce him to accept. 

The wives and families of the Lanark veterans were brought from LochDoine, and again planted in their native valleys; thus, naught in thekingdom appeared different from its most prosperous days, but thewidowed heart of the dispenser of all this good. And yet, so fully didhe engage himself in the creation of these benefits, that no timeseemed left to him for regrets; but they haunted him like persecutingspirits, invisible to all but himself. 

During the performance of these things, the Countess of Mar, thoughapparently lost to all other pursuits than the peaceable enjoyment ofher reflected dignities, was absorbed in the one great object of herpassion. Eager to be rid of so dangerous a spy and adversary as shedeemed Edwin to be, she was laboring day and night to effect byclandestine schemes his banishment, when an unforeseen circumstancecarried him far away. Lord Ruthven, while on an embassy to theHebrides, fell ill. As his disorder was attended with extreme danger, he sent for his wife; and Edwin, impelled by love for his father, andanxiety to soothe the terrified suspense of his mother, readily leftthe side of his friend, to accompany her to the isles. Lady Mar hadnow no scrutinizing eye to fear; her nephew Murray was still on duty inClydesdale; the earl, her husband, trusted her too implicitly even toturn on her a suspicious look; and Helen, she contrived, should be aslittle in her presence as possible. 

Busy, then, as this lady was, the enemies of the regent were not lessactive in the prosecution of their plans. The Earl of March hadarrived at Dunbar; and having dispatched his treasonable proposals toEdward, had received letters from that monarch by sea, accepting hisservices, and promising every reward that could satisfy his ambition, and the cupidity of those whom he could draw over to his cause. Thewary king then told the earl, that if he would send his wife and familyto London, as hostages for his faith, he was ready to bring a mightyarmy to Dunbar; and, by that gate, once more enter Scotland. Thesenegotiations backward and forward from London to Dunbar, and fromDunbar to the treacherous lords at Stirling, occupied much time; andthe more, as great precaution was necessary to escape the vigilant eyesof Wallace, which seemed to be present in every part of the kingdom atonce. So careful was he, in overlooking, by his well-chosen officers, civil and military, every transaction, that the slightest derelictionfrom the straight order of things was immediately seen and examinedinto. Many of these trusty magistrates having been placed in theLothians, before March took the government, he could not now removethem without exciting suspicion; and therefore, as they remained, greatcircumspection was used to elude their watchfulness. 

From the time that Edward had again entered into terms with theScottish chiefs, Lord March sent regular tidings to Lord Soulis of theprogress of their negotiations. He knew that nobleman would gladlywelcome the recall of the King of England; for ever since therevolution in favor of Scotland, he had remained obstinately shut upwithin his castle of Hermitage. Chagrin at having lost Helen was notthe least of his mortifications; and the wounds he had received fromthe invisible hand which had released her, having been given with allthe might of the valiant arm which directed the blow, were not even nowhealed; his passions kept them still inflamed; and their smart made hisvengeance burn the fiercer against Wallace, who he now learned was themysterious agent of her rescue. 

While treason secretly prepared to spring its mine beneath the feet ofthe regent, he, unsuspicious that any could be discontented where allwere free and prosperous, thought of no enemy to the tranquilfulfillment of his duties but the minor persecutions of Lady Mar. Noday escaped without bringing him letters, either to invite him toSnawdoun or to lead her to the citadel, where he resided. In every oneof these epistles she declared that it was no longer the wildness ofpassion which impelled her to seek his society, but the moderatedregard of a friend. And though perfectly aware of all that was behindthese asseverations (for she had deceived him once into a belief ofthis please, and had made him feel its falseness), he found himselfforced at times, out of the civility due to her sex, to comply with herinvitations. Indeed, her conduct never gave him reason to hold her inany higher respect, for whenever they happened to be left alone, shemade pretensions. The frequency of these scenes at last made him nevergo to Snawdoun unaccompanied (for she rarely allowed him to have even aglimpse of Helen), and by this precaution he avoided much of hersolicitations. But, strange to say, even at the time that thisconduct, by driving her to despair, might have excited her to somedesperate act, her wayward heart threw the blame of his coldness uponher trammels with Lord Mar, and flattering herself that were he dead, all would happen as she wished, she panted for that hour with animpatience which often tempted her to precipitate the event. 

Things were in this situation when Wallace, one night, received a hastysummons from his pillow by a page of Lord Mar's, requesting him toimmediately repair to his chamber. Concluding that something alarmingmust have happened, he threw on his brigandine and plaid, and enteredthe apartments of the governor. Mar met him with a countenance, theherald of a dreadful matter. 

"What has happened?" inquired Wallace. 

"Treason, " answered Mar; "but from what point I cannot guess. Mydaughter has braved a dark and lonely walk from Snawdoun, to bring theproofs. "

While speaking he lead the chief into the room where Helen sat, likesome fairy specter of the night; her long hair, disordered by the windsof a nocturnal storm, mingling with the gray folds of the mantle whichenveloped her. Wallace hastened forward--she now no longer flittedaway, scared from his approach by the frowning glances of herstep-mother. He had once attempted to express his grateful regrets forwhat she had suffered in her lovely person for his sake, but thecountess had then interrupted him, and Helen disappeared. Now hebeheld her in a presence, where he could declare all his gratitudewithout subjecting its gentle object to one harsh word in consequence, and almost forgetting his errand to the governor, and the tidings hehad just heard, he remembered only the manner in which she had shieldedhis life with her arms, and he bent his knee respectfully before her asshe rose to his approach. Blushing and silent, she extended her handto him to rise. He pressed it warmly. "Sweet excellence!" said he, "Iam happy in this opportunity, however gained, to again pour out myacknowledgments to you; and though I have been denied that pleasureuntil now, yet the memory of your generous interest in the friend ofyour father, is one of the most cherished sentiments of my heart!"

"It is my happiness, as well as my duty, Sit William Wallace, " repliedshe, "to regard you and my country as one; and that, I hope, willexcuse the, perhaps, rash action of this night. " As she spoke, he roseand looked at Lord Mar for explanation. 

The earl held a roll of vellum toward him. "This writing, " said he, "was found this evening by my daughter. She was enjoying with my wifeand other ladies a moonlight walk on the shores of the Forth behind thepalace, when, having strayed at some distance from her friends, she sawthis packet lying in the path before her, as if it had just beendropped. It bore no direction; she therefore opened it, and part ofthe contents soon told her she must conceal the whole, till she couldreveal them to me. Not even to my wife did she intrust the dangeroussecret, nor would she run any risk by sending it by a messenger. Assoon as the family were gone to rest, she wrapped herself in her plaidand finding a passage through one of the low embrasures of Snawdoun, with a fleet step made her way to the citadel and to me. She gave methe packet. Read it, my friend, and judge if we do not owe ourselvesto Heaven for so critical a discovery!"

Wallace took the scroll, and read as follows:

"Our trusty fellows will bring you this, and deliver copies of the sameto the rest. We shall be with you in four-and-twenty hours after itarrives. The army of our liege lord is now in the Lothians, passingthrough them under the appellation of succors for the regent from theHebrides! Keep all safe, and neither himself nor any of his adherentsshall have a head on their shoulders by this day week. "

Neither superscription, name, nor date, was to this letter; but Wallaceimmediately knew the handwriting to be that of Lord March. "Then wemust have traitors, even within these walls, " exclaimed Mar; "none butthe most powerful chiefs would the proud Cospatrick admit into hisconspiracies. And what are we to do? for by to-morrow evening the armythis traitor has let into the heart of this country will be at ourgates!"

"No, " cried Wallace. "Thanks to God and this guardian angel!"fervently clasping Helen's hand as he spoke, "we must not beintimidated by treachery! Let us be faithful to ourselves, my veteranfriend, and all will go well. It matters not who the other traitorsare; they must soon discover themselves, and shall find us prepared tocounteract their machinations. Sound your bugles, my lord, to summonthe heads of our council. "

At this command, Helen arose, but replaced herself in her chair onWallace exclaiming, "Stay, Lady Helen, let the sight of such virgindelicacy, braving the terrors of the night to warn betrayed Scotland, nerve every heart with redoubled courage to breast this insidious foe!" Helen did indeed feel her soul awake to all its ancient patrioticenthusiasm; and thus, with a countenance pale, but resplendent with thelight of her thoughts, she sat the angel of her heroic inspiration. Wallace often turned to look on her, while her eyes, unconscious of theadoring admiration which spoke in their beams, followed his godlikefigure as it moved through the room with a step that declared theundisturbed determination of his soul. 

The Lords Bothwell, Loch-awe, and Badenoch were the first that obeyedthe call. They started at sight of Helen, but Wallace in a few wordsrelated the cause of her appearance, and the portentous letter was laidbefore them. All were acquainted with the handwriting of Lord March, and all agreed in attributing to its real motive his late solicitude toobtain the command of the Lothians. "What!" cried Bothwell, "but toopen his castle gates to the enemy!"

"And to repel him before he reaches ours, my brave chiefs, " repliedWallace, "I have summoned you! Edward will not make this attemptwithout tremendous powers. He knows what he risks; his men, his life, and his honor. We must therefore expect a resolution in him adequateto such an enterprise. Lose not then a moment; even to-night, thisinstant, and go out and bring in your followers! I will call up minefrom the banks of the Clyde, and be ready to meet him ere he crossesthe Carrou. "

While he gave these orders, other nobles thronged in, and Helen, beingseverally thanked by them all, became so agitated, that stretching outher hand to Wallace, who was nearest to her, she softly whispered, "Take me hence. " He read in her blushing face, the oppression hermodesty sustained in such a scene, and with her faltering steps sheleaned upon his arm as he conducted her to an interior chamber. Overcome by her former fears and the emotions of the last hour, shesunk into a chair and burst into tears. Wallace stood near her, and ashe looked on her, he thought, "If aught on earth ever resembled thebeloved of my soul, it is Helen Mar!" And all the tenderness whichmemory gave to his almost adored wife, and all the grateful complacencywith which he regarded Helen, beamed at once from his eyes. She raisedher head-she felt that look-it thrilled to her soul. For a momentevery former thought seemed lost in the one perception, that he thengazed on her as he had never looked on any woman since his Marion. Wasshe then beloved?

The impression was evanescent: "No, no!" said she to herself; andwaving her hand gently to him with her head bent down; "Leave me, SirWilliam Wallace. Forgive me--but I am exhausted; my frame is weakerthan my mind. " She spoke this at intervals, and Wallace respectfullytouching the hand she extended, pressed it to his breast. 

"I obey you, dear Lady Helen, and when next we meet, it will, I hope, be to dispel every fear in that gentle bosom. " She bowed her headwithout looking up, and Wallace left the room . 

CHAPTER LIII. 

Falkirk. 

Before the sun rose, every brave Scot within a few hours' march ofStirling, was on the Carse; and Lord Andrew Murray and his veteranClydesdale men were already resting on their arms in view of the citywalls. The messengers of Wallace had hastened with the speed of thewinds, east and west; and the noon of the day saw him at the head ofthirty thousand men determined to fight or to die for their country. 

The surrounding landscape shone in the brightness of midsummer; for itwas the eve of St. Magdalen; and sky and earth bore witness to theluxuriant month of July. The heavens were clear, the waters of theForth danced in the sunbeams, and the flower-enameled green of theextended plain stretched its beautiful borders to the deepening woods. All nature smiled; all seemed in harmony and peace but the breast ofman. He who was made lord of this paradise awoke to disturb itsrepose, to disfigure its loveliness! As the thronging legions pouredupon the plain, the sheep which had been feeding there, fled scared tothe hills; the plover and heath-fowl which nestled in the brakes, roseaffrighted from their infant broods, and flew in screaming multitudesfar over the receding valleys. The peace of Scotland was again broken, and its flocks and herds were to share its misery. 

When the conspiring lords appeared on the Carse, and Mar communicatedto them the lately discovered treason, they so well affected surpriseat the contents of the scroll, that Wallace might not have suspectedtheir connection with it, had not Lord Athol declared it altogether aforgery of some wanton persons, and then added with bitterness, "togather an army on such authority is ridiculous. " While he spoke, Wallace regarded him with a look which pierced him to the center; andthe blood rushing into his guilty heart, for once in his life hetrembled before the eye of man. "Whoever be the degenerate Scot, towhom this writing is addressed, " said Wallace, "his baseness cannotbetray us further. The troops of Scotland are ready to meet the enemy;and woe to the man who that day deserts his country!" "Amen!" criedLord Mar. "Amen!" sounded from every lip; for when the conscienceembraces treason against its earthly rulers, allegiance to its heavenlyKing is abandoned with ease; and the words and oaths of the traitor areequally unstable. 

Badenoch's eye followed that of Wallace, and his suspicions fixed wherethe regent's fell. For the honor of his blood, he forbore to accusethe earl; but for the same reason he determined to watch hisproceedings. However, the hypocrisy of Athol baffled even thepenetration of his brother, and on his retiring from the ground to callforth his men for the expedition, in an affected chafe he complained toBadenoch of the stigma cast upon their house by the regent's impliedcharge. 

"But, " said he, "he shall see the honor of the Cummin, emblazoned inblood on the sands of the Forth! His towering pride heeds not where itstrikes; and this comes of raising men of low estate to rule overprinces!"

"His birth is noble if not royal, " replied Badenoch; "and before this, the posterity of kings have not disdained to recover their rights bythe sword of a brave subject. "

"True, " answered Athol; "but is it customary for princes to allow thatsubject to sit on their throne? It is nonsense to talk of Wallacehaving refused a coronation. He laughs at the name; but see you notthat he openly affects supreme power; that he rules the nobles of theland like a despot? His word, his nod is sufficient!--Go here! gothere!--as if he were absolute, and there was no voice in Scotland buthis own! Look at the brave Mack Callan-more, the lord of the west ofScotland from sea to sea; he stands unbonneted before this mightyWallace with a more abject homage than ever he paid to the house ofAlexander! Can you behold this, Lord Badenoch, and not find the royalblood of your descent boil in your veins? Does not every look of yourwife, the sister of a king, and your own right stamped upon your soul, reproach you? He is greater by your strength. Humble him, my brother;be faithful to Scotland, but humble its proud dictator!"

Lord Badenoch replied to this rough exhortation with the tranquillitybelonging to his nature--"I see not the least foundations for any ofyour charges against Sir William Wallace. He has delivered Scotland, and the people are grateful. The nation with one voice made him theirregent; and he fulfills the duties of his office--but with a modesty, Lord Athol, which, I must affirm, I never saw equaled. I dissent fromyou in all that you have said--and I confess I did fear the blandishingarguments of the faithless Cospatrick had persuaded you to embrace hispernicious treason. You deny it--that is well. Prove your innocenceat this juncture in the field against Scotland's enemies; and John ofBadenoch will then see no impending cloud to darken the honor of thename of Cummin!"

The brothers immediately separated; and Athol calling his cousin Buchanarranged a new device to counteract the vigilance of the regent. Oneof their means was to baffle his measures by stimulating the lesstreasonable but yet discontented chiefs to thwart him in every motion. At the head of this last class was John Stewart, Earl of Bute. Duringthe whole of the preceding year he had been in Norway, and the firstobject he met on his return to Scotland was the triumphal entry ofWallace into Stirling. Aware of the consequence Stewart's name wouldattach to any cause, Athol had gained his ear before he was introducedto the regent; and then so poisoned his mind against Wallace that allthat was well in him he deemed ill, and ever spoke of his bravery withcoldness, and of his patriotism with disgust. He believed him ahypocrite, and as such despised and abhorred him. 

While Athol marshaled his rebellious ranks, some to follow his broadtreason in the face of day, and others to lurk behind, and delude theintrusted council left in Stirling; Wallace led forth his loyal chiefsto take their stations at the heads of their different clans. SirAlexander Scrymgeour, with the proudest expectations for Scotland, unfurled his golden standard to the sun. The Lords Loch-awe andBothwell, with others, rode on the right of the regent. Lord AndrewMurray, with the brave Sir John Graham, and a bevy of young knights, kept the ground on his left. Wallace looked around; Edwin was faraway, and he felt but half appointed when wanting his youthfulswordbearer. That faithful friend did not even know of the threatenedhostility; for to have intimated to Lord Ruthven a danger he could notassist to repel, would have inflamed his disorder by anxiety, andperhaps hurried him to dissolution. 

As the regent moved forward with these private affections checkeringhis public cares, his heralds blew the trumpets of his approach, and ahundred embattled clans appeared in the midst of the plain, awaitingtheir valiant leaders. Each chief advanced to the head of his line, and stood to hear the charge of Wallace. 

"Brave Scots!" cried he, "treachery has admitted the enemy whomresolute patriotism had driven from our borders. Be steady in yourfidelity to Scotland, and He who hath hitherto protected the justcause, will nerve your arms to lay invasion and its base coadjutorsagain in the dust. "

The cheers of anticipated victory burst from the soldiers, mingled withthe clangor of their striking shields at the inspiring voice of theirleader. Wallace waved his truncheon (round which the plan of his arraywas wrapped) to the chiefs to fall back toward their legions; and whilesome appeared to linger, Athol, armed cap-a-pie, and spurring his roaninto the area before the regent, demanded, in a haughty tone, "Which ofthe chiefs now in the field is to lead the vanguard?"

"The Regent of Scotland, " replied Wallace, for once asserting themajesty of his station, "and you, Lord Athol, with the Lord Buchan, areto defend your country under the command of the brave head of yourhouse, the princely Badenoch. "

"I stir not from this spot, " returned Athol, fiercely striking hislance into its rest, "till I see the honor of my country established inthe eye of the world by a leader worthy of her rank being placed in hervanguard. "

"What he says, " cried Buchan, "I second. " "And in the same spirit, chieftain of Ellerslie, " exclaimed Lord Bute, "do I offer to Scotlandmyself and my people. Another must lead the van, or I retire from herstandard. "

"Speak on!" cried Wallace, more surprised than confounded by thisextraordinary attack. 

"What these illustrious chiefs have uttered, is the voice of us all!"was the general exclamation from a band of warriors who now throngedaround the incendiary nobles. 

"Your reign is over, proud chieftain, " rejoined Athol; "the Scottishranks are no longer to be cajoled by your affected moderation. We seethe tyrant in your insidious smile, we feel him in the despotism ofyour decrees. To be thus ridden by a man of vulgar blood; to presenthim as the head of our nation to the King of England, is beneath thedignity of our country, is an insult to our nobles; and therefore, inthe power of her consequence, I speak, and again demand of you to yieldthe vanguard to one more worthy of the station. Before God and St. Magdalen I swear, " added he, holding up his sword to the heavens, "Iwill not stir an inch this day toward the enemy unless a Cummin or aStewart lead our army. "

"And is this your resolution also, Lord Bute?" said Wallace, looking onStewart. "It is, " was the reply; "a foe like Edward ought to be met asbecomes a great and independent kingdom. We go in the array of anunanimous nation to repel him; not as a band of insurgents, headed by ageneral who, however brave, was yet drawn from the common ranks of thepeople. I therefore demand to follow a more illustrious leader to thefield. "

"The eagles have long enough followed their owl in peacock's feathers, "cried Buchan; "and being tired of the game, I, like the rest, soarupward again!"

"Resign that baton!" cried Athol; "give peace to a more honorableleader!" repeated he, supposed that he had intimidated Wallace; butWallace, raising the visor of his helmet, which he had closed on hislast commands to his generals, looked on Athol with all the majesty ofhis truly royal soul in his eyes: "Earl, " said he, "the voices of thethree estates of Scotland declared me their regent, and God ratifiedthe election by the victories with which he crowned me. If in aught Ihave betrayed my trust, led the powers which raised me be my accusers. Four pitched battles have I fought and gained for this country. TwiceI beat the representatives of King Edward on the plains of Scotland;and a few months ago I made him fly before me over the fields ofNorthumberland! What then has befallen me, that my arm is to be tooshort to meet this man? Has the oil of the Lord, with which the saintof Dunkeld anointed my brows, lost its virtue, that I should shrinkbefore any king in Christendom? I neither tremble at the name ofEdward, nor will I so disgrace my own (which never man who bore it everdegraded by swearing fealty to a foreign prince), as to abandon at sucha crisis the power with which Scotland has invested me. Whoeverchooses to leave the cause of their country, let them go; and somanifest themselves of noble blood! I remain, and I lead the vanguard! Scotsmen, to your duty. "

As he spoke with a voice of unanswerable command, several chiefs fellback into their ranks. But some made a retrograde motion toward thetown. Lord Bute hardly knew what to think, so was he startled by theappeal of the accused regent, and the noble frankness with which hemaintained his rights. He stood frowning as Wallace turned to him, andsaid, "Do you, my lord, adhere to these violent men? or am I toconsider a chief who, though hostile to me, was generous in his ire, still faithful to Scotland, in spite of his prejudice against herleader? Will you fight her battles?"

"I shall never desert them, " replied Stewart; "'tis truth I seek;therefore be it to you. Wallace, this day according to yourconscience!" Wallace bowed his head, and presented him the truncheonaround which his line of battle was wrapped. On opening it he foundthat he was appointed to command the third division; Badenoch andBothwell to the first and second; and Wallace himself to the vanguard. 

When the scouts arrived, they informed the regent that the English armyhad advanced near to the boundary of Linlithgow, and from the rapidityof their march, must be on the Carron the same evening. On thisintelligence, Wallace put his troops to their speed and before the sunhad declined far toward the west, he was within view of Falkirk. Butjust as he had crossed the Carron, and the Southron banners appeared insight, Lord Athol, at the head of his rebellious colleagues, rode up tohim. Stewart kept his appointed station and Badenoch, doing the same, ashamed of his brother's disorder, called after him to keep his line. Regardless of all check, the obstinate chief galloped on, and extendinghis bold accomplices across the path of the regent, demanded of him, onthe penalty of his life, "that moment to relinquish his pretensions tothe vanguard. "

"I am not come here, " replied Wallace indignantly, "to betray mycountry! I know you, Lord Athol: and your conduct and mine will thisday prove who is most worthy the confidence of Scotland. "

"This day, " cried Athol, "shall see you lay down the power you haveusurped. "

"It shall see me maintain it, to your confusion, " replied Wallace, "andwere you not surrounded by Scots of too tried a worth for me to suspecttheir being influenced by your rebellious example, I would this momentmake you feel the arm of justice. But the foe is in sight; do yourduty now, sir earl, and for the sake of the house to which you belong, even this intemperate conduct shall be forgotten. "

At this instant, Sir John Graham, hastening forward, exclaimed:

"The Southrons are bearing down upon us!"

Athol glanced at their distant host and turning on Wallace with asarcastic smile, "My actions, " cried he, "shall indeed decide the day!"and striking his spurs furiously into his horse, he rejoined LordBadenoch's legion. 

Edward did indeed advance in a most terrible array. Above a hundredthousand men swelled his numerous ranks; and with these were united allfrom the Lothians and Teviotdale, whom the influence of the faithlessMarch and the vindictive Soulis could bring into the field. With thisaugmented host, and a determination to conquer or to die, the Southronsmarched rapidly forward. 

Wallace had drawn himself up on the ascent of the hill of Falkirk, andadvantageously planted his archers on a covering eminence flanked bythe legions of Badenoch. Lord Athol, who knew the integrity of hisbrother, and who cared not in so great a cause (for such his ambitiontermed it) how he removed an adversary from Edward, and a censor fromhimself, gave a ridding order to one of his emissaries. Accordingly, in the moment when the trumpet of Wallace sounded the charge, and thearrows from the hill darkened the air, the virtuous Badenoch wasstabbed through the back to the very heart. Athol had placed himselfnear, to watch his purpose; but in the instant the deed was done, hethrew himself on the perpetrator, and wounding him in the same vitalpart, exclaimed, holding up his dagger, "Behold the weapon that hasslain the assassin, hired by Sir William Wallace! Thus it is, that hisambition would rob Scotland of her native princes. Let us fly from hissteel to the shield of a king and a hero. "

The men had seen their leader fall; they doubted not the words of hisbrother; and with a shout exclaiming, "Whither you lead we follow!" allat once turned toward him. "Seize the traitor's artillery!" At thiscommand they mounted the hill and the archers, little expecting anassault from their countrymen, were either instantly cut down, orhurried away prisoners by Athol and Buchan; who now, at the head of thewhole division of the Cummins, galloped toward the Southrons; and withloud cries of "Long live King Edward!" threw themselves en masse intotheir arms. The squadrons which followed Stewart not knowing but theymight be hurried into similar desertion, hesitated in the charge he hadcommanded them to make; and, while thus undecisive, some obeyed inbroken ranks; and others lingered. The enemy advanced briskly up, surrounded the division, and on their first onset slew its leader. Hisfaithful Brandanes, ** seeing their beloved commander trampled to theearth by an overwhelming foe, fell into confusion, and communicatingtheir dismay to their comrades, the whole division sunk under the shockof the Southrons, as if touched by a spell. 

**Brandanes was the distinguished appellation of the military followersof the chiefs of Bute. 

Meanwhile Bothwell and his legions were fiercely engaged with the Earlof Lincoln amid the swamps of a deep morass; but being involved byreciprocal impetuousity, equal peril engulfed them both. The firmbattalion of the vanguard; alone remaining unbroken, stood before thepressing and now victorious thousands of Edward without receding astep. The archers being lost by the treachery of the Cummins, all hopelay on the strength of the spear and sword; and Wallace, standingimmovable as the rock of Stirling, saw rank after rank of his dauntlessinfantry mowed down by the Southron arrows; while, fast as they fell, their comrades closed over them, and still presented the sameimpenetrable front of steady valor against the heavy charges of theenemy's horse. The King of England, indignant at this pause in hisconquering onset, accompanied by his natural brother, the valiant Frerede Briagny, and a squadron of resolute knights, in fury threwthemselves toward the Scottish pikesmen. Wallace descried the jeweledcrest of Edward amidst the cloud of battle there, and rushing forward, hand to hand engaged the king. Edward knew his adversary, not so muchby his snow white plume as by the prowess of his arm. Twice did theheavy claymore of Wallace strike fire from the steely helmet of themonarch; but at the third stroke the glittering diadem fell in shiversto the ground; and the royal blood of Edward followed the blow. Hereeled; and another stroke would have settled the freedom of Scotlandforever, had not the strong arm of Frere de Briagny passed betweenWallace and the king. The combat thickened; blow followed blow; bloodgushed at each fall of the sword; and the hacked armor showed in everyaperture a grisly wound. A hundred weapons seemed directed against thebreast of the Regent of Scotland, when, raising his sword with adetermined stroke, it cleft the visor and vest of De Briagny, who felllifeless to the ground. The cry that issued from the Southron troopsat this sight again nerved the vengeful Edward, and ordering the signalfor his reserve to advance, he renewed the attack; and assaultingWallace, with all the fury of his heart in his eyes and arms, he torethe earth with the trampling of disappointed vengeance, when he foundthe invincible phalanx still stood firm. 

"I will reach him yet!" cried he; and turning to De Valence, hecommanded that the new artillery should be called into action. 

On this order, a blast of trumpets in the Southron army blew; and theanswering war-wolves it had summoned sent forth showers of red-hotstones into the midst of the Scottish battalions. At the same momentthe English reserve, charging round the hill, attacked them in theflank, and accomplished what the fiery torrent had begun. The fieldwas heaped with dead; the brooks which flowed down the heights ran withblood; but no confusion was there-no, not even in the mind of Wallace;though, with amazement and horror, he beheld the saltire of Annandale, the banner of Bruce, leading onward the last exterminating division!Scot now contended with Scot, brother with brother. Those valiantspirits, who had left their country twenty years before to accompanytheir chief to the Holy Land, now re-entered Scotland to wound her inher vital part; to wrest from her her liberties; to make her mourn inashes, that she had been the mother of such matricides. A horridmingling of tartans with tartans, in the direful grasp of reciprocaldeath; a tremendous rushing of the flaming artillery, which swept theScottish ranks like blasting lightning, for a moment seemed to make thereason of their leader stagger. Arrows, winged with fire, flashedthrough the air; and sticking in men and beasts, drove them againsteach other in maddening pain. Twice was the horse of Wallace shotunder him; and on every side were his closest friends wounded anddispersed. But his terrific horror at the scene passed away the momentof its perception; and though the Southron and the Bruce pressed on himin overwhelming numbers, his few remaining ranks obeyed his call; andwith a presence of mind and military skill that was exhaustless, hemaintained the fight till darkness parted the combatants. When Edwardgave command for his troops to rest till morning, Wallace, with theremnant of his faithful band slowly recrossed the Carron, that theyalso might repose till dawn should renew the conflict. 

Lonely was the sound of his bugle, as sitting on a fragment of thedruidical ruins of Dunipacis, he blew its melancholy blast to summonhis chiefs around him. Its penetrating voice pierced the hills, but noanswering note came upon his ear. A direful conviction seized upon hisheart. But they might have fled far distant! he blushed as the thoughtcrossed him, and hopeless again, dropped the horn, which he had raisedto blow a second summons. At this instant he saw a shadow darken themoonlight ruins, and Scrymgeour, who had gladly heard his commander'sbugle, hastened forward. 

"What has been the fate of this dismal day?" asked Wallace, lookingonward, as if he expected others to come up. "Where are myfriends?--Where Graham, Badenoch and Bothwell?--Where all, braveScrymgeour, that I do not know see?" He rose from his seat at sight ofan advancing group. It approached near and laid the dead body of awarrior down before him. "Thus, " cried one of the supporters, instifled sounds, "has my father proved his love for Scotland!" It wasMurray who spoke; it was the Earl of Bothwell that lay a breathlesscorpse at his feet!

"Grievous has been the havoc of Scot on Scot!" cried the intrepidGraham, who had seconded the arm of Murray in the contest for hisfather's body. "Your steadiness, Sir William Wallace, would haveretrieved the day but for the murderer of his country; that Bruce, forwhom you refused to be our king, thus destroys her bravest sons. Theirblood be on his head!" continued the young chief, extending his martialarms toward heaven. "Power of Justice, hear! and let his days betroubled, and his death covered with dishonor!"

"My brave friend!" replied Wallace, "his deeds will avenge themselves, he needs not further malediction. Let us rather bless the remains ofhim who is gone before us thus in glory to his heavenly rest! Ah!better is it thus to be laid in the bed of honor, than, by surviving, witness the calamities which the double treason of this day will bringupon our martyred country! Murray, my friend!" cried he to LordAndrew, "we must not let the brave dead perish in vain! Their monumentshall yet be Scotland's liberties. Fear not that we are forsakenbecause of these traitors; but remember our time is in the hand of theGod of justice and mercy!"

Tears were coursing each other in mute woe down the cheeks of theaffectionate son. He could not for some time answer Wallace, but hegrasped his hand, and at last rapidly articulated, "Others may havefallen, but not mortally like him. Life may yet be preserved in someof our brave companions. Leave me, then, to mourn my dead alone! andseek ye them. "

Wallace saw that filial tenderness yearned for the moment when it mightunburden its grief unchecked by observation. He arose, and making asign to his friends, withdrew toward his men. Having sent a detachmentto guard the sacred inclosure of Dunipacis, he dispatched Graham on thedangerous duty of gathering a reinforcement for the morning. Thensending Scrymgeour, with a resolute band, across the Carron, to bringin the wounded (for Edward had encamped his army about a mile south ofthe field of action), he took his lonely course along the northern banktoward a shallow ford near which he supposed the squadrons of LordLoch-awe must have fought, and where he hoped to gain accounts of himfrom some straggling survivor of his clan. When he arrived at a pointwhere the river is narrowest, and winds its dark stream beneathimpending heights, he blew the Campbell pibroch; the notes reverberatedfrom rock to rock, but, unanswered, died away in distant echoes. Stillhe could not relinquish hope, and pursuing the path, emerged upon anopen glade. The unobstructed rays of the moon illumined every object. Across the river, at some distance from the bank, a division of theSouthron tents whitened the deep shadows of the bordering woods; andbefore them, on the blood-stained plain, he thought he descried asolitary warrior. Wallace stopped. The man approached the margin ofthe stream, and looked toward the Scottish chief. The visor of Wallacebeing up, discovered his heroic countenance bright in the moonbeams;and the majesty of his mien seemed to declare him to the Southronknight to be no other than the Regent of Scotland. 

"Who art thou?" cried the warrior, with a voice of command, that betterbecame his lips than it was adapted to the man whom he addressed. 

"The enemy of England!" cried the chief. 

"Thou art Wallace!" was the immediate reply; "none else dare answer theLord of Carrick and of Annandale with such haughty boldness. "

"Every Scot in this land, " returned Wallace, inflamed with anindignation he did not attempt to repress, "would thus answer Bruce, not only in reference to England, but to himself! to that Bruce, who, not satisfied with having abandoned his people to their enemies, hasstolen a base fratricide to slay his brethren in their home! To havemet them on the plain of Stanmore, would have been a deed his posteritymight have bewailed; but what horror, what shame will be theirs, whenthey know that he came to ruin his own rights, to stab his people, inthe very bosom of his country! I come from gazing on the murdered bodyof the virtuous Earl of Bothwell! The Lords Bute and Fyfe, and perhapsLoch-awe, have fallen beneath the Southron sword, and your unnaturalarm; and yet do you demand what Scot would dare to tell you, that heholds the Earl of Carrick and his coadjutors as his most mortal foes?"

"Ambitious man! Dost thou flatter thyself with belief that I am to bedeceived by thy pompous declamation? I know the motive of all thispretended patriotism, I am well informed of the aim of all this vauntedprowess; and I came, not to fight the battles of King Edward, but topunish the proud usurper of the rights of Bruce. I have gained mypoint. My brave followers slew the Lord of Bothwell; my bravefollowers made the hitherto invincible Sir William Wallace retreat! Icame in the power of my birthright; and, as your lawful king, I commandyou, this hour, to lay your rebel sword at my feet. Obey, proudknight, or to-morrow puts you into Edward's hand, and, without appeal, you die the death of a traitor. "

"Unhappy prince, " cried Wallace, now suspecting that Bruce had beendeceived; "is it over the necks of your most loyal subjects that youwould mount your throne? How have you been mistaken! How have youstrengthened the hands of your enemy, and weakened your own by thisday's action! The cause is now probably lost forever; and from whomare we to date its ruin but from him to whom the nation looked as toits appointed deliverer? From him, whose once honored name will now beregarded with exaggeration?"

"Burden not my name, rash young man, " replied Bruce, "with the chargesbelonging to your own mad ambition. Who disturbed the peace in whichScotland reposed after the battle of Dunbar, but William Wallace? Whoraised the country in arms, but William Wallace? Who stole from me mybirthright, and fastened the people's love on himself, but WilliamWallace? Who affected to repel a crown that he might the morecertainly fix it on his head, but William Wallace? And who dares nowtaunt me with his errors and mishaps, but the same traitor to hislawful sovereign?"

"Shall I answer thee, Lord of Carrick, " replied Wallace, "with asimilar appeal? Who, when the Southron tyrant preferred a false claimto the supremacy of this realm, subscribed to the falsehood; and bythat action did all in his power to make a free people slaves? Who, when the brand of cruelty swept this kingdom from shore to shore, layindolent in the usurper's court, and heard of these oppressions withouta sigh? Who, horror on horror! brought an army into his owninheritance, to slay his brethren and to lay it desolate before hismortal foe? Thy heart will tell thee, Bruce, who is this man; and ifhonor yet remain in that iron region, thou wilt not disbelieve theasseverations of an honest Scot, who proclaims that it was to save themwhom thou didst abandon, that he appeared in the armies of Scotland. It was to supply the place of thy desertion that he assumed the rule, with which a grateful people, rescued from bondage, invested him. "

"Bold chieftain!" exclaimed Bruce, "is it thus you continue to braveyour offended prince? But in pity to your youth, in admiration of aprowess which would have been godlike had it been exerted for yoursovereign, and not used as a bait to satisfy an ambition wild as it istowering, I would expostulate with you; I would even deign to tell youthat, in granting the supremacy of Edward, the royal Bruce submits notto the mere wish of a despot, but to the necessity of the times. Thisis not an area of so great loyalty that any sovereign may venture tocontend against such an imperial arm as Edward's. And would you--a boyin years, a novice in politics, and though brave, and till this daysuccessful--would you pretend to prolong a war with the dictator ofkingdoms? Can rational discrimination be united with the valor youpossess and you not perceive the unequal contest between a weak state, deprived of its head and agitated by intestine commotions, and a mightynation conducted by the ablest and most martial monarch of his age--aman who is not only determined to maintain his pretensions to Scotland, but is master of every resourse, either for protracting war or pushingit with vigor? If the love of your country be indeed your motive forperseverance, your obstinacy tends only to lengthen her misery. Butif--as I believe is the case--you carry your views to privateaggrandizement, reflect on their probable issue. Should Edward, by amiracle, withdraw his armies, and an intoxicated people elevate theirminion to the throne, the lords of Scotland would reject the boldinvasion and, with the noble vengeance of insulted greatness, hurl fromhis height the proud usurper of their rights and mine. "

"To usurp any man's rights, and least of all, my king's" repliedWallace, "never came within the range of my thoughts. Though lowlyborn, Lord Carrick, I am not so base as to require assumption to giveme dignity. I saw my country made a garrison of Edward's, I beheld itspeople outraged in every relation that is dear to man. Who heard theircry? Where was Bruce? Where the nobles of Scotland, that none aroseto extinguish her burning villages, to shelter the mother and thechild, to rescue purity from violation, to defend the bleeding fatherand his son? The shrieks of despair resounded through the land andnone appeared! The hand of violence fell on my own house! the wife ofmy bosom was stabbed to the heart by a magistrate of the usurper! Ithen drew the sword!--I took pity on those who suffered as I hadsuffered! I espoused their cause, and never will I forsake it tilllife forsakes me. Therefore, that I became champion of Scotland, Lordof Carrick, blame not my ambition, but rather the supineness of thenobility, and chiefly yourself--you who, uniting personal merit todignity of descent, had deserted to occupy! Had the Scots, from thetime of Baliol's abdication, possessed such a leader as yourself (forwhat is the necessity of the times but the pusillanimity of those whoought to contend with Edward?) by your valor and their union you musthave surmounted every difficulty under which we struggle, and haveclosed the contest with success and honor. If you now start from yourguilty delusion, it may not be too late to rescue Scotland from theperils which surround her. Listen then to my voice, prince of theblood of Alexander! forswear the tyrant who has cajoled you to thisabandonment of your country, and resolve to be her deliverer. Thebravest of the Scots are ready to acknowledge you their lord, to reignas your forefathers did, untrammeled by any foreign yoke. Exchange, then a base vassalage, for freedom and a throne! Awake to yourself, noble Bruce, and behold what it is I propose! Heaven itself cannot seta more glorious prize before the eyes of virtue or ambition, than tojoin in one object, the acquisition of royalty with the maintenance ofnational independence! Such is my last appeal to you. For myself, asI am well convinced that the real welfare of my country can neversubsist with the sacrifice of her liberties, I am determined, as far asin me lies, to prolong, not her miseries, but her integrity, bypreserving her from the contamination of slavery. But, shouldmysterious fate decree her fall, may that power which knows the viceand horrors which accompany a tyrant's reign, terminate the existenceof a people who can no longer preserve their lives but by receivinglaws from usurpation!"

The truth and gallantry of these sentiments struck the awakened mind ofBruce with the force of conviction. Another auditor was nigh, who alsolost not a syllable; "and the flame was conveyed from the breast of onehero to that of the other. "

Lord Carrick secretly repented of all that he had done; but being tooproud to acknowledge so much, he briefly answered: "Wallace, your wordshave made an impression on me, that may one day still more brighten theglory of your fame. Be silent respecting this conference; be faithfulto the principles you have declared, and ere long you shall hearroyally of Bruce. " As he spoke, he turned away and was lost among thetrees. 

Wallace stood for some minutes musing on what had passed, when, hearinga footstep behind him, he turned round, and beheld approaching him ayoung and graceful form, habited in a white hacqueton wrought in gold, with golden spurs on his feet, and a helmet of the same costly metal onhis head, crested with white feathers. Had the scene been inPalestine, he might have mistaken him for the host's guardian angel inarms. But the moment the eyes of Wallace fell on him, the strangerhastened forward, and threw himself on one knee before him, with sonoble a grace that the chief was lost in wonder what this beautifulapparition could mean. The youth, after an agitated pause, bowing hishead, exclaimed:

"Pardon this intrusion, bravest of men! I come to offer you my heart, my life! To wash out, by your side, in the blood of the enemies ofScotland, the stigma which now dishonors the name of Bruce!"

"And who are you, noble youth?" cried Wallace, raising him from theground. "Surely my prayers are at last answered; and I hear thesesentiments from one of Alexander's race!"

"I am indeed of his blood, " replied he; "and it must now be my study toprove my descent by deeds worthy of my ancestor. I am Robert Bruce, the eldest son of the Earl of Carrick and Annandale. Grieving over theslaughter that his valor had made of his own people (although, till youtaught him otherwise, he believed they fought to maintain theusurpation of an ambitious subject), he walked out in melancholy. Ifollowed at a distance; and I heard, unseen, all that has passedbetween you and him. He has retired to his tent; and, unknown to him, I hastened across the Carron, to avow my loyalty to virtue, to declaremy determination to live for Scotland, or to die for her; and to followthe arms of Sir William Wallace, till he plants my father in the throneof his ancestors. "

"I take you at your word, brave prince!" replied the regent; "and thisnight shall give you an opportunity to redeem to Scotland, what yourfather's sword has this day wrested from her. What I mean to do mustbe effected in the course of a few hours. That done, it will beprudent for you to return to the Carrick camp; and there take the mosteffectual means to persuade your father to throw himself at once intothe arms of Scotland. The whole nation will then rally round theirking; and as his weapon of war, I shall rejoice to fulfill thecommission with which God has intrusted me!" He then briefly unfoldedto the eagerly listening Bruce (whose aspiring spirit, inflamed by thefervor of youth, and winged by natural courage, saw the glory alone ofthe enterprise), an attack which he meant to make on the camp ofEdward, while his victorious troops slept in fancied security. 

He had sent Sir John Graham to Stirling, to call out its garrison; Kerhe had dispatched on a similar errand; and expecting that by this timesome of the troops would be arrived on the southern extremity of thecarse, he threw his plaid over the prince's splendid garb to concealhim from notice; then returning to the few who lay on the northern bankof the river, he asked one of the young Gordons to lend him his armor, saying he had use for it, and to seek another suit in the heap that hadbeen collected from the buried dead. The brave Scot cheerfullyacquiesced; and, Wallace retiring amongst the trees with his royalcompanion, Bruce soon covered his gay hacqueton with this rough mail;and placing the Scottish bonnet on his head, put a large stone into thegolden helmet, and sunk it in the waters of the Carron. Being thuscompletely armed like one of the youthful clansmen in the ranks (andsuch disguise was necessary), Wallace put the trusty claymore of hiscountry into its prince's hand; and clasping him with a hero's warmthto his heart--

"Now it is, " cried he, "that William Wallace lives anew since he hasseen this hour!"

On re-emerging from the wood, they met Sir John Graham, who had justarrived with five hundred fugitives from Lord Bute's slaughtereddivision, whom he had rallied on the carse. He informed his friendthat the Earl of Mar was within half a mile of the Carron, with threethousand more; and, that he would soon be joined by otherre-enforcements to a similar amount. While Graham yet spoke, asquadron of armed men approached from the Forth side. Wallace, advancing toward them, beheld the Bishop of Dunkeld, in his sacerdotalrobes, at their head, but with a corselet on his breast, and instead ofhis crosier he carried a drawn sword. "We come to you, champion ofScotland, " cried the prelate, "with the prayers and the arms of thechurch. The sword of th44e Levites of old smote the enemies of Israel;and in the same faith, that the God of Justice will go before us thisnight, we come to fight for Scotland's liberties. "

His followers were the younger brethren of the monastery ofCambus-Kenneth, and others from the neighboring convents, altogethermaking a stout and well-appointed legion. 

"With this handful, " cried Wallace, "Heaven may find a David, who shallyet strike yon Goliath on the forehead!"

Lord Mar and Lord Lennox now came up; and Wallace, marshaling histrain, found that he had nearly ten thousand men. He gave to eachleader his plan of attack; and having placed Bruce with Graham in thevan, before he took his station at its head, he retired to the ruinsnear Dunipacis, to visit the mourning solitude of Murray. He found thepious son sitting silent and motionless by the side of his dead parent. Without rousing the violence of grief by any reference to the sightbefore him, Wallace briefly communicated his project. Lord Andrewstarted to his feet. "I will share all the peril with you! I shallagain grapple with the foe that has thus bereaved me! This darkmantle, " cried he, turning toward the breathless corpse, and throwinghis plaid over it, "will shroud thy hallowed remains till I return. Igo where thou wouldst direct me. Oh, my father!" exclaimed he, in aburst of grief, "the trumpet shall sound, and thou wilt not hear! ButI go to take vengeance for thy blood!" So saying, he sprung from theplace, and accompanying Wallace to the plain, took his station in thesilent but swiftly moving army. 

Chapter LIV. 

Carron Banks. 

The troops of King Edward lay overpowered with wine. Elated withvictory, they had drunk largely, the royal pavilion setting them theexample; for though Edward was temperate, yet, to flatter his recoveredfriends, the inordinate Buchan and Soulis, he had allowed a greaterexcess that night than he was accustomed to sanction. The banquetover, every knight retired to his tent; every soldier to his pallet;and a deep sleep lay upon every man. The king himself, whose manythoughts had long kept him waking, now fell into a slumber. 

Guards had been placed around the camp more from military ceremony thanan idea of their necessity. The strength of Wallace they believedbroken; and that they should have nothing to do next morning but tochase him into Stirling, and take him there. But the spirit of theregent was not so easily subdued. He ever thought it shameful todespair while it was possible to make a stand. And now, leading hisdetermined followers through the lower grounds of Cumbernaul, hedetached half his force under Mar, to take the Southron camp in therear, while he should attack the front, and pierce his way to the royalpavilion. 

With soundless caution, the battalion of Mar wound round the banks ofthe Forth to reach the point of its destination; and Wallace, proceeding with as noiseless a step, gained the hill which overlookedhis sleeping enemies. His front ranks, shrouded by branches they hadtorn from the trees in Tor Wood, now stood still. Without thisprecaution, had any eye looked from the Southron line they must havebeen perceived; but now should a hundred gaze on them, their figureswere so blended with the adjoining thickets, they might easily bemistaken for a part of them. As the moon sunk in the horizon theymoved gently down the hill; and scarcely drawing breath, were within afew paces of the first outpost, when one of the sentinels starting fromhis reclining position, suddenly exclaimed, "What sound is that?"

"Only the wind amongst the trees, " returned his comrade; "I see theirbranches waving. Let me sleep; for Wallace yet lives, and we may havehot work to-morrow. " Wallace did live, and the man slept--to wake nomore; for the next instant a Scottish brand was through every Southronheart on the outpost. That done, Wallace threw away his bough, leapedthe narrow dike which lay in front of the camp; and with Bruce andGraham at the head of a chosen band of brave men, cautiously proceededonward to reach the pavilion. At the moment he should blow his bugle, the divisions he had left with Lennox and Murray, and the Lord Mar, were to press forward to the same point. 

Still all lay in profound repose, and guided by the lamps which burnedaround the royal quarters, the dauntless Scots reached the tent. Wallace had already laid his hand upon the curtain that was itsentrance, when an armed man with a presented pike, demanded, "Who comeshere?" the regent's answer laid the interrogator's head at his feet;but the voice had awakened the ever watchful king. Perceiving his owndanger in the fall of the sentinel, he snatched his sword, and callingaloud on his sleeping train, sprung from his couch. He was immediatelysurrounded by half a score of knights, who started on their feet beforeWallace could reach the spot. Short, however, would have been theirprotection; they fell before his arm and that of Graham, and left avacant place, for Edward had disappeared. Foreseeing from the firstprowess of these midnight invaders, the fate of his guards, he had madea timely escape, by cutting a passage for himself through the canvas ofhis tent. Wallace perceived that his prize had eluded his grasp, buthoping to at least drive him from the field, he blew the appointedsignal to Mar and Lennox; caught one of the lamps from the monarch'stable and setting fire to the adjoining drapery, rushed from itsblazing volumes to meet his brave colleagues amongst the disorderedlines. Graham and his followers with firebrands in their hands, threwconflagration into all parts of the camp, and with the fearfulwar-cries of their country, seemed to assail the terrified enemy fromevery direction. Men half-dressed and unarmed, rushed from their tentsupon the pikes of their enemies; hundreds fell without striking a blow, and they who were stationed nearest the outposts, betook themselves toflight, scattering themselves in scared throngs over the amazed plainsof Linlithgow. 

The king in vain sought to rally his men-to remind them of their latevictory. His English alone hearkened to his call; superstition hadlaid her petrifying hand on all the rest. The Irish saw a terriblejudgment in this scene; believing it had fallen upon them for havingtaken arms against their sister people; the Welsh, as they descried thewarlike Bishop of Dunkeld issuing from the mists of the river, andcharging his foaming steed through their flying defiles, could notpersuade themselves that Merlin had not arisen to chastise theirobedience to the ravager of their country. Every superstition, everypanic created by fear took possession of the half-intoxicated, stupidwretches; and falling in bloody and unresisting heaps all around, itwas rather a slaughter than a battle. Opposition seemed everywhereabandoned, excepting on the spot still maintained by the King ofEngland and his brave countrymen. The faithless Scots who had followedthe Cummins to the field also stood there and fought with desperation. Wallace opposed the despair and valor of his adversaries with thesteadiness of his men; and Graham having seized some of thewar-engines, discharged a shower of blazing arrows upon the Southronphalanx. 

The camp was now on fire in every direction; and putting all to thehazard of one decisive blow, Edward ordered his men to make at once tothe point, where, by the light of the flaming tents, he could perceivethe waving plumes of Wallace. With his ponderous mace held terribly inthe air, the king himself bore down to the shock; and breaking throughthe intervening combatants assaulted the chief. The might of tenthousand souls was then in the arm of the Regent of Scotland. Thepuissant Edward wondered at himself as he shrunk from before hisstrokes; as he shuddered at the heroic fierceness of a countenancewhich seemed more than mortal. Was it indeed the Scottish chieftain?or some armed delegate from heaven, descended to flight the battles ofthe oppressed? Edward trembled; his mace was struck from his hand; butimmediately a glittering falchon supplied its place, and withrecovering presence of mind he renewed the combat. 

Meanwhile the young Bruce (who, in his humble armor, might have beenpassed by as an enemy for meaner swords), checking the onward speed ofMarch, pierced him at once through the heart: "Die, thou disgrace tothe name of Scot, " cried he, "and with thy blood expunge my stains!"His sword now laid all opposition at his feet; and while the tempest ofdeath blew around, the groans of the dying, the shrieks of the wounded, and the outcries of those who were perishing in the flames, drove theking's ranks to distraction, and raised so great a fear in the minds ofthe Cummin clan, that, breaking from the royal line with yells ofdismay, they fled in all directions after their already fugitive allies. 

Edward saw the Earl of March fall, and finding himself wounded in manyplaces, with a backward step he received the blows of Wallace; but thatdetermined chief, following his advantage, made a stroke at the kingwhich threw him astounded into the arms of his followers. At thatmoment Lincoln raised his arm to strike his dagger into the back ofWallace; but Graham arrested the blow, and sent the young lord'smotionless body to the earth. The Southron ranks closed immediatelybefore their insensible monarch; and a contest more desperate than anywhich had preceded it, took place. Hosts seemed to fall on both sides;at last the Southrons (having stood their ground till Edward wascarried from further danger) suddenly wheeled about and fledprecipitately toward the east. Wallace pursued them on full charge;driving them across the lowlands of Linlithgow, where he learned fromsome prisoners he took, that the Earl of Carrick was in the Lothians;having retreated hither on the first tidings that the Scots hadattacked the English camp. 

"Now is your time, " said Wallace to Bruce, "to rejoin your father. Bring him to Scotland, where a free crown awaits him. Your actions ofthis night must be a pledge to your country of the virtues which willsupport his throne!"

The young warrior, throwing off his rugged hauberk in a retired glen, appeared again as a prince, and embracing the regent:

"A messenger from myself or from my father, " said he, "shall meet youat Stirling; meanwhile, farewell!--and give my thanks to the youngGordon whose sword armed me for Scotland!"

Bruce mounted the horse Wallace had prepared, and spurring along thebanks of the Almond, was soon lost amidst its luxuriant shades. 

Wallace still led the pursuit of Edward, and meeting those auxiliariesfrom the adjoining counties, which his provident orders had prepared toturn out on the first appearance of this martial chase; he poured histroops through Ettrick Forest, and drove the flying host of England farinto Northumberland. There checking his triumphant squadrons, herecalled his stragglers, and returned with abated speed into his owncountry. Halting on the north bank of the Twee, he sent to theirquarters those hands which belonged to the border castles, and thenmarched leisurely forward, that his brave soldiers, who had sustainedthe weight of the battle, might recover their exhausted strength. 

At Peebles he was agreeably surprised by the sight of Edwin. Thoughignorant of the recommenced hostilities of Edward, Lord Ruthven becameso impatient to resume his duties, that as soon as he was able to move, he had set off on his return to Perth. On arriving at Huntingtower hewas told of the treachery of March, also of his fate, and that theregent had beaten the enemy on the banks of the Carron, and waspursuing him into his own dominions. Ruthven was inadequate to theexertion of following the successful troops, but Edwin, rejoicing atthis new victory, would not be detained, and crossing the Forth intoMid-Lothian, had sped his eager way until the happy moment that broughthim again to the side of his first and dearest friend. 

As they continued their route together, Edwin inquired the events ofthe past time, and heard them related with wonder, horror, andgratitude. Grateful for the preservation of Wallace, grateful for therescue of his country from the menaced destruction, for some time hecould only clasp his friend's hand with strong emotion to his heart. The death of his uncle Bothwell made that heart tremble within him atthe thought of how much severer might have been his deprivation; atlast, extricating his powers of speech from the spell of contradictoryfeelings which enchained them, he said, "But if my uncle Mar and ourbrave Graham were in the last conflict, where are they, that I do notsee them share your victory?"

"I hope, " returned Wallace, "that we shall rejoin them in safety atStirling. Our troops parted in the pursuit, and after having sent backthe Lowland chieftains, you see I have none with me now but my ownparticular followers. "

The regent's expectations that he should soon fall in with some of thechasing squadrons, were the next morning gratified. Crossing theBathgate Hills, he met the returning battalions of Lennox, with LordMar's, and also Sir John Graham's. Lord Lennox was thanked by Wallacefor his good services, and immediately dispatched to reoccupy hisstation in Dumbarton. But the captains of Mar and of Graham, couldgive no other account of their leaders, than that they saw them lastfighting valiantly in the Southron camp, and had since supposed thatduring the pursuit they must have joined the regent's squadron. A colddew fell over the limbs of Wallace at these tidings; he looked onMurray and on Edwin. The expression of the former's face told him whatwere his fears; but Edwin, ever sanguine, strove to encourage the hopethat all might yet be well: "They may not have yet returned from thepursuit; or they may be gone on to Stirling. "

But these comfortings were soon dispelled by the appearance of LordRuthven, who (having been apprised of the regent's approach) came forthto meet him. The pleasure of seeing the earl so far recovered as tohave been able to leave Huntingtower, was checked by the first glanceof his face, on which was deeply characterized some tale of grief. Edwin thought it was the recent disasters of Scotland he mourned; andwith a cheering voice he exclaimed, "Courage, my father! our regentcomes again a conqueror! Edward has once more recrossed the plains ofNorthumberland!"

"Thanks be to God for that!" replied Ruthven! "but what have not theselast conflicts cost the country! Lord Mar is wounded unto death, andlies in a chamber next to the yet unburied corpses of Lord Bute and thedauntless Graham. " Wallace turned deadly pale; a mist passed over hiseyes, and staggering, he breathlessly supported himself on the arm ofEdwin. Murray looked on him; but all was still in his heart: his ownbeloved father had fallen; and in that stroke Fate seemed to haveemptied all her quiver. 

"Lead me to their chambers!" cried Wallace; "show me where my friendslie; let me hear the last prayer for Scotland from the lips of thebravest of her veterans!"

Ruthven turned the head of his horse; and, as he rode along, heinformed the regent that Edwin had not left Huntingtower for the Forthhalf an hour when an express arrived from Falkirk. By it he learnedthat, as soon as the inhabitants of Stirling saw the fire of theSouthron camp, they had hastened thither to enjoy the spectacle. Some, bolder than the rest, entered its deserted confines (for the retreatingsquadrons were then flying over the plain); and amidst the slaughtered, near the royal tent, one of these visitors thought he distinguishedgroans. Whether friend or foe, he stooped to render assistance to thesufferer, and soon found it to be Lord Mar. The earl begged to becarried to some shelter that he might see his wife and daughter beforehe died. The people drew him out from under his horse and many amangled corpse; and, wrapping him in their plaids, conveyed him toFalkirk, where they lodged him in the convent. 

"A messenger was instantly dispatched to me, " continued Ruthven; "and, indifferent to all personal considerations, I set out immediately. Isaw my dying brother-in-law. At his request, that others might notsuffer what he had endured under the pressure of the slain, the fieldhad been sought for the wounded. Many were conveyed into theneighboring houses, while the dead were consigned to the earth. Deephave been dug the graves of mingled Scot and English on the banks ofthe Carron! Many of our fallen nobles, amongst whom was the princelyBadenoch, have been conveyed to the cemetery of their ancestors; othersare entombed in the church of Falkirk; but the bodies of Sir JohnGraham and my brother Bothwell, " said he, in a lower tone, "I haveretained till your return. "

"You have done right, " replied the till then, silent Wallace; andspurring forward, he saw not the ground he trod, till, ascending thehill of Falkirk, the venerable walls of its monastery presentedthemselves to his view. He threw himself off his horse and entered, preceded by Lord Ruthven. 

He stopped before the cell which contained the dying chief, and desiredthe abbot to apprise the earl of his arrival. The sound of that voice, whose heart-consoling tones could be matched by none on earth, penetrated to the ear of his almost insensible friend. Mar startedfrom his pillow, and Wallace through the half-open door heard him say:"Let him come in, Joanna! All my mortal hopes now hang on him. "

Wallace instantly stepped forward, and beheld the veteran stretched ona couch, the image of that death to which he was so rapidlyapproaching. He hastened toward him; and the dying man, stretchingforth his arms exclaimed: "Come to me, Wallace, my son, the only hopeof Scotland, the only human trust of this anxious paternal heart!"

Wallace threw himself on his knees beside him, and taking his hand, pressed it in speechless anguish to his lips; every present grief wasthen weighing on his soul, and denied him the power of utterance. LadyMar sat by the pillow of her husband, but she bore no marks of thesorrow which convulsed the frame of Wallace. She looked serious, buther cheek wore its freshest bloom. She spoke not, and the veteranallowed the tears of enfeebled nature to fall on the bent head of hisfriend. "Mourn not for me, " cried he, "nor think that these areregretful drops. I die as I have wished, in the field for Scotland. Time must have soon laid my gray hair ignobly in the grave; and toenter it thus covered with honorable wounds, in glory, has long been myprayer. But, dearest, most unwearied of friends, still the tears ofmortality will flow; for I leave my children fatherless in thisfaithless world. And my Helen! Oh, Wallace, the angel who exposed herprecious self through the dangers of that midnight walk to saveScotland, her father, and his friends, is-lost to us! Joanna, tell therest, " said he, gasping, "for I cannot. "

Wallace turned to Lady Mar with an inquiring look of such wild horrorthat she found her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth, and hercomplexion faded into the pallidness of his. 

"Surely, " exclaimed he, "there is not to be a wreck of all that isestimable on earth. The Lady Helen is not dead?"

"No, " rejoined the earl; "but-"

He could proceed no further, and Lady Mar forced herself to speak. 

"She has fallen into the hands of the enemy. On my lord's beingbrought to this place, he sent for myself and Lady Helen; but inpassing by Dunipacis, an armed squadron issued from behind the mound, and putting our attendants to flight, carried her off. I escapedhither. The reason for this attack was explained afterward by one ofthe Southrons, who, having been wounded by our escort, was taken, andbrought to Falkirk. He said that Lord Aymer de Valence, having beensent by his beset monarch to call Lord Carrick to his assistance, foundthe Bruce's camp deserted; but by accident learning that Lady Helen Marwas to be brought to Falkirk, he stationed himself behind Dunipacis;and springing out as soon as our cavalcade was in view, seized her. She obtained, the rest were allowed to escape, but as the Lord deValence loves Helen, I cannot doubt he will have sufficient honor notto insult the fame of her family, and so will make her his wife. "

"God forbid!" ejaculated Mar, holding up his trembling hands; "Godforbid that my blood should ever mingle with that of any one of thepeople who have wrought such woe to Scotland! Swear to me, valiantWallace, by the virtues of her virgin heart, by your own immaculatehonor, that you will move heaven and earth to rescue my Helen from thepower of his Southron lord!"

"So help me Heaven!" answered Wallace, looking steadfastly upward. Agroan burst from the lips of Lady Mar, and her head sunk on the side ofthe couch. 

"What? Who is that?" exclaimed Mar, raising his head in alarm from hispillow. 

"Believe it your country, Donald!" replied she; "to what do you bindits only defender? Are you not throwing him into the very center ofhis enemies, by making him swear to rescue Helen? Think you that DeValence will not foresee a pursuit, and take her into the heart ofEngland? And thither must our regent follow him! Release Sir WilliamWallace from a vow that must destroy him!"

"Wallace, " cried the now soul-struck earl, "what have I done? Has afather's anxiety asked amiss? If so, pardon me! But if my daughteralso must perish for Scotland, take her, O God, uncontaminated, and letus meet in heaven! Wallace, I dare not accept your vow. "

"But I will fulfill it, " cried he. "Let thy paternal heart rest inpeace; and by Jesus' help, Lady Helen shall again be in her owncountry, as free from Southron taint as she is from all mortal sin! DeValence dare not approach her heavenly innocence with violence; and herScottish heart will never consent to give him a lawful claim to herprecious self. Edward's legions are far beyond the borders! butwherever this earl may be, yet I will reach him. For there is aguiding hand above, and the demands of the morning at Falkirk are nowto be answered in the halls of Stirling. "

Lord Ruthven, followed by Edwin and Murray, entered the room. And thetwo nephews were holding each a hand of their dying uncle in theirs, when Lady Ruthven (who, exhausted with fatigue and anxiety, had retiredan hour before), reappeared at the door of the apartment. She had beeninformed of the arrival of the regent and her son, and now hastened togive them a sorrowful welcome. 

"Ah, my lord, " cried she, as Wallace pressed her matron cheek to his;"this is not as your triumphs are wont to be greeted! You are still aconqueror, and yet death, dreadful death, lies all around us! And ourHelen, too--"

"Shall be restored to you, by the blessed aid of Heaven!" returned he, "What is yet left for me to do, must be done; and then-" He paused, andadded, "The time is not far distant, then--" He paused, and added "Thetime is not far distant, Lady Ruthven, when we shall meet in the realmsto which so many of our bravest and dearest have just hastened. "

With swimming eyes Edwin drew toward his master. "My uncle wouldsleep, " said he; "he is exhausted, and will recall us when he wakesfrom rest. " The eyes of the veteran were at that moment closed withheavy slumber. Lady Ruthven remained with the countess to watch byhim; and Wallace, gently withdrawing, was followed by Ruthven and thetwo young men out of the apartment. 

Lord Lochawe, with the Bishop of Dunkeld, and other chiefs, lay indifferent chambers, pierced with many wounds; but none so grievous asthose of Lord Mar. Wallace visited them all, and having gone throughthe numerous places in the neighborhood, then made quarters for hiswounded men. At the gloom of evening he returned to Falkirk. He sentEdwin forward to inquire after the repose of his uncle; but on himselfre-entering the monastery, he requested the abbot to conduct him to theapartment in which the remains of Sir John Graham were deposited. Thefather obeyed; leading him along a dark passage, he opened a door, anddiscovered the slain hero lying on a bier. Two monks sat at its head, with tapers in their hands. Wallace waved them to withdraw; they setdown the lights and departed. He was then alone. 

For some time he stood with clasped hands, looking intently on the bodyas it lay extended before him. "Graham! Graham!" cried he, at last, in a voice of unutterable grief; "dost thou not rise at thy general'svoice? Oh! is this to be the tidings I am to send to the brave fatherwho intrusted to me his son? Lost in the prime of youth, in theopening of thy renown, is it thus that all which is good is to bemartyrized by the enemies of Scotland?" He sunk gradually on his kneesbeside him. "And shall I not look once more on that face, " said he, which ever turned toward mine with looks of faith and love?" Theshroud was drawn down by his hand. He started on his feet at thesight. The changing touch of death had altered every feature-haddeepened the paleness of the bloodless corpse into an ashy hue. "Whereis the countenance of my friend?" cried he. "Where the spirit whichonce moved in beauty and animating light over this face! Gone; and allI see before me is a mass of molded clay! Graham! Graham!" cried he, looking upward, "thou art not here. No more can I recognize my friendin this deserted habitation of thy soul. Thine own proper self, thineimmortal spirit, is ascended up above; and there my fond remembranceshall ever seek thee!" Again he knelt, but it was in devotion-adevotion which drew the sting from death, and opened to his view thevictory of the Lord of Life over the King of Terrors. 

Edward having learned from his father that Lord Mar still slept, andbeing told by the abbot where the regent was, followed him to theconsecrated chamber. On entering, he perceived him kneeling by thebody of his friend. The youth drew near. He loved the brave Graham, and he almost adored Wallace; the scene, therefore, smote upon hisheart. He dropped down by the side of the regent, and, throwing hisarms around his neck, in a convulsive voice exclaimed: "Our friend isgone; but I yet live, and only in your smiles, my friend and brother!"

Wallace strained him to his breast. He was silent for some minutes, and then said: "To every dispensation of God I am resigned, my Edwin. While I bow to this stroke, I acknowledge the blessing I still hold inyou and Murray. But did we not feel these visitations from our Maker, they would not be decreed to us. To behold the dead is the penalty ofman for sin; for it is more pain to witness and to occasion death, thanfor ourselves to die. It is also a lesson which God teaches his sons;and in the moment that he shows us death he convinces us ofimmortality. Look upon that face, Edwin!" continued he, turning hiseyes on the breathless clay. His youthful auditor, awestruck, and histears checked by the solemnity of this address, looked as he directedhim. "Doth not that inanimate mold of earth testify that nothing lessthan an immortal spirit could have lighted up its marble substance withthe life and god-like actions we have seen it perform?" Edwinshuddered; and Wallace, letting the shroud fall over the face, added:"Never more will I look at it, for it no longer wears the characters ofmy friend-they are pictured on my soul; and himself, my Edwin, stilleffulgent in beauty and glowing with imperishable life, looks down onus from heaven!" He rose as he spoke, and opening the door, the monksre-entered, and placing themselves at the head of the bier, chanted thevesper requiem. When it was ended, Wallace kissed the crucifix theylaid on his friend's breast, and left the cell. 

Chapter LV. 

Church of Falkirk. 

No eye closed that night in the monastery of Falkirk. The Earl of Marawaked about the twelfth hour, and sent to call Lord Ruthven, SirWilliam Wallace, and his nephews, to attend him. As they approached, the priests, who had just anointed his dying head with the sacredunction, drew back. The countess and Lady Ruthven supported hispillow. He smiled as he heard the advancing steps of those so dear tohim. "I send for you, " said he, "to give you the blessing of a trueScot and a Christian! May all who are here in thy blessed presence, Redeemer of mankind!" cried he, looking up with a supernaturalbrightness in his eye, "die as I do, rather than survive to seeScotland enslaved! But oh! may they rather long live under thatliberty, perpetuated, which Wallace has again given to his country;peaceful will then be their last moments on earth, and full of joytheir entrance into heaven!" His eyes closed as the concluding worddied upon his tongue. Lady Ruthven looked intently on him; she benther face to his, but he breathed no more; and, with a feeble cry, shefell back in a swoon. 

The soul of the veteran earl was indeed fled. The countess was taken, shrieking, out of the apartment; but Wallace, Edwin, and Murrayremained, kneeling over the body, and when they concluded, the prieststhrowing over it a cloud of incense, the mourners withdrew, andseparated to their chambers. 

By daybreak, Wallace met Murray by appointment in the cloisters. Theremains of his beloved father had been brought from Dunipacis to theconvent, and Murray now prepare to take them to Bothwell Castle, thereto be interred in the cemetery of his ancestors. Wallace, who hadapproved his design, entered with him into the solitary court-yard, where the war-carriage stood which was to convey the deceased earl toClydesdale. Four soldiers of his clan brought the corpse of their Lordfrom a cell, and laid him on his martial bier. His bed was the sweetheather of Falkirk, spread by the hands of his son. As Wallace laidthe venerable chief's sword and helmet on his bier, he covered thewhole with the flag he had torn from the standard of England in thelast victory. "None other shroud is worthy of thy virtues!" cried he. "Dying for Scotland, thus let the memorial of her glory be the witnessof thine!"

"Oh! my friend, " answered Murray, looking on his chief with a smile, which beamed the fairer shining through sorrow, "thy gracious spiritcan divest even death of its gloom. My father yet lives in his fame!"

"And in a better existence, too!" gently replied Wallace; "else theearth's fame were an empty shroud-it could not comfort. "

The solemn procession, with Murray at its head, departed toward thevalleys of Clydesdale, and Wallace returned to his chamber. Two hoursbefore noon he was summoned by the tolling of the chapel bell. TheEarl of Bute and his dearer friend were to be laid in their last bed. With a spirit that did not murmur, he saw the earth closed over bothgraves; but at Graham's he lingered; and when the funeral stone shuteven the sod that covered him from his eyes, with his sword's point hedrew on the surface these memorable words:

"Mente manuque potens, et Walli fidus Achates. Conditus hic Gramus, bello interfectus ab Anglis. "**

**These lines may be translated thus:

Here liesThe powerful in mind and body, the friend of Wallace;Graham, faithful unto death! slain in battle by the English. 

While he yet leaned on the stone, which gently gave way to theregistering pen of friendship, to be more deeply engraved afterward, amonk approached him, attended by a shepherd boy. At the sound ofsteps, Wallace looked up. 

"This young man, " said the father, "brings dispatches to the lordregent. "

Wallace rose, and the youth presented his packet. Withdrawing to alittle distance, he broke the seal, and read to this effect:

"My father and myself are in the Castle of Durham, and both under anarrest. We are to remain so till our arrival in London renders itssovereign, in his own opinion, more secure: when there, you shall hearfrom me again. Meanwhile, be on your guard: the gold of Edward hasfound its way into your councils. Beware of them who, with patriotismin their mouths, are purchased to betray you and their country into thehands of the enemy! Truest, noblest, best of Scots, farewell!--I mustnot write more explicitly. 

"P. S. --The messenger who takes this is a simple border shepherd: heknows not whence comes the packet, hence he cannot bring an answer. "

Wallace closed the letter; and putting gold into the shepherd's hand, left the chapel. In passing through the cloisters he met Ruthven, justreturned from Stirling, whither he had gone to inform the chiefs of thecouncil of the regent's arrival. "When I summoned them to thecouncil-hall, " continued Lord Ruthven, "and told them you had not onlydefeated Edward on the Carron, but in so doing had gained a doublevictory, over a foreign usurper and domestic traitors!-instead of theusual open-hearted gratulations on such a communication, a low whispermurmured through the hall; and the young Badenoch, unworthy of hispatriotic father, rising from his seat, gave utterance to so manyinvectives against you, our country's soul, and arm! I should deem ittreason even to repeat them. Suffice it to say, that out of fivehundred chiefs and chieftains who were present, not one of thoseparasites who used to fawn on you a week ago, and make the love ofhonest men seem doubtful, now breathes one word for Sir WilliamWallace. But this ingratitude, vile as it is, I bore with patiencetill Badenoch, growing in insolency, declared that late last nightdispatches had arrived from the King of France to the regent, and thathe (in right of his birth, assuming to himself that dignity) had puttheir bearer, Sir Alexander Ramsay, under confinement, for havingpersisted to dispute his authority to withhold them from you. "

Wallace, who had listened in silence, drew a deep sigh as Ruthvenconcluded; and, in that profound breath, exclaimed--"God must be ourfortress still; must save Scotland from this gangrene in her heart!Ramsay shall be released; but I must first meet these violent men. Andit must be alone, my lord, " continued he; "you, and our coadjutors, maywait my return at the city gates; but the sword of Edward, if need be, shall defend me against his gold. " As he spoke, he laid his hand onthe jeweled weapon which hung at his side, and which he had wrestedfrom that monarch in the last conflict. 

Aware that this treason, aimed at him, would strike his country, unlesstimely warded off, he took his resolution; and requesting Ruthven notto communicate to any one what had passed, he mounted his horse, andstruck into the road to Stirling. He took the plume from his crest, and closing his visor, enveloped himself in his plaid, that the peoplemight not know him as he went along. But casting away his cloak, andunclasping his helmet at the door of the keep, he entered thecouncil-hall, openly and abruptly. By an instantaneous impulse ofrespect, which even the base pay to virtue, almost every man arose athis appearance. He bowed to the assembly, and walked, with a composedyet severe air, up to his station at the head of the room. YoungBadenoch stood there; and as Wallace approached he fiercely grasped hissword. "Proud upstart!" cried he, "betrayer of my father! set a footfurther toward this chair, and the chastisement of every arm in thiscouncil shall fall on you for your presumption!"

"It is not in the arms of thousands to put me from my right, " repliedWallace, calmly putting forth his hand and drawing the regent's chairtoward him. 

"Will ye bear this?" cried Badenoch, stamping with his foot, andplucking forth his sword; "is the man to exist who thus braves theassembled lords of Scotland?" While speaking, he made a desperatelunge at the regent's breast; Wallace caught the blade in his hand, andwrenching it from his intemperate adversary, broke it into shivers, andcast the pieces at his feet; then, turning resolutely toward thechiefs, who stood appalled, and looking on each other, he said, "I, your duly elected regent, left you only a few days ago, to repel theenemy whom the treason of Lord March would have introduced into thesevery walls. Many brave chiefs followed me to that field! and more, whom I see now, loaded me as I passed with benedictions. Portentouswas the day of Falkirk to Scotland. Then did the mighty fall, and theheads of counsel perish. But treason was the parricide! The late LordBadenoch stood his ground like a true Scot; but Athol and Buchandeserted to Edward. " While speaking, he turned toward the furious sonof Badenoch, who, gnashing his teeth in impotent rage, stood listeningto the inflaming whispers of Macdougal of Lorn. "Young chief, " criedhe, "from their treachery date the fate of your brave father, and thewhole of our grievous loss of that day; but the wide destruction hasbeen avenged! more than chief for chief have perished in the Southronranks, and thousands of the lowlier sort now swell the banks of Carron. Edward himself fell, wounded by my arm, and was born by his flyingsquadrons over the wastes of Northumberland. Thus have I returned toyou with my duties achieved in a manner worthy of your regent! What, then, means the arrest of my embassador? what this silence when therepresentative of your power is insulted to your face?

"They mean, " cried Badenoch, "that my words are the utterance of theirsentiments. " "They mean, " cried Lorn, "that the prowess of the haughtyboaster, whom their intoxicated gratitude raised from the dust, shallnot avail him against the indignation of a nation over which he daresto arrogate a right. "

"Mean they what they will, " returned Wallace, "they cannot dispossessme of the rights with which assembled Scotland invested me on theplains of Stirling. And again I demand, by what authority do you andthey presume to imprison my officer, and withhold from me the paperssent by the King of France to the Regent of Scotland?"

"By the authority that we will maintain, " replied Badenoch; "by theright of my royal blood, and by the sword of every brave Scot, whospurns at the name of Wallace!"

"And as a proof that we speak not more than we act, " cried Lorn, makingassign to the chiefs, "you are our prisoner!"

Many weapons were instantly unsheathed; and their bearers, hurrying tothe side of Badenoch and Lorn, attempted to lay hands on Wallace; buthe, drawing the sword of Edward, with a sweep of his valiant arm thatmade the glittering blade seem a brand of fire, set his back againstthe wall, and exclaimed:

"He that first makes a stroke at me shall find his death on thisSouthron steel! This sword I made the puissant arm of the usurperyield to me; and this sword shall defend the Regent of Scotland againsthis ungrateful countrymen!"

The chieftains who pressed on him recoiled at these words, but theirleaders, Badenoch and Lorn, waved them forward, with vehementexhortations. 

"Desist, young men!" continued he, "provoke me not beyond my bearing. With a single blast of my bugle I could surround this building with aband of warriors, who at sight of their chief being thus assaulted, would lay this tumult in blood. Let me pass, or abide the consequence!"

"Through my breast, then, " exclaimed Badenoch; "for, with my consent, you pass not here but on your bier. What is in the arm of a singleman, " cried he to the lords, "that ye cannot fall on him at once, andcut him down?"

"I would not hurt a son of the virtuous Badenoch, " returned Wallace;"but his life be on your hands, " said he, turning to the chiefs, "ifone of you point a sword to impede my passage. "

"And wilt thou dare it, usurper of my powers and honors?" criedBadenoch. "Lorn, stand by your friend-all here who are true to theCummin and Macdougal, hem in the tyrant. "

Many a traitor hand now drew forth its dagger, and the intemperateBadenoch, drunk with choler and mad ambition, snatching a sword fromone of his accomplices, made another violent plunge at Wallace, but itsmetal flew in splinters on the guard-stroke of the regent, and leftBadenoch at his mercy. "Defend me, chieftains, or I am slain!" criedhe. But Wallace did not let his hand follow its advantage; with thedignity of conscious desert, he turned from the vanquished, and castingthe enraged Lorn from him, who had thrown himself in his way, heexclaimed: "Scots, that arm will wither which dares to point its steelon me. " The pressing crowd, struck in astonishment, parted before himas they could have done in the path of a thunderbolt, and unimpeded, hepassed to the door. 

That their regent had entered the keep was soon rumored through thecity; and when he appeared from the gate he was hailed by theacclamations of the people. He found his empire again in the hearts ofthe lowly, they whom he had restored to their cottages, knelt to him inthe streets, and called for blessings on his name; while they-oh!blasting touch of envy!-whom he had restored to castles, and elevatedfrom a state of vassalage to the power of princes, they raised againsthim that very power to lay him in the dust. 

Now it was, that when surrounded by the grateful citizens of Stirling(whom it would have been as easy for him to have inflamed to themassacre of Badenoch and his council, as to have lifted his bugle tohis lips), that he blew the summons for his captains. Every man in thekeep flew to arms, expecting that Wallace was returning upon them withthe host he had threatened. In a few minutes the Lord Ruthven, withhis brave followers, entered the inner ballium gate. Wallace smiledproudly as they drew near. "My lords, " said he, "you come to witnessthe last act of my delegated power! Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, enterinto that hall, which was once the seat of council, and tell theviolent men who fill it, that for the peace of Scotland, which I valuemore than my life, I allow them to stand unpunished of their offenseagainst me. But the outrage they have committed on the freedom of oneof her bravest sons I will not pardon, unless he be immediately set atliberty; let them deliver to you Sir Alexander Ramsay, and then Ipermit them to hear my final decision. IF they refuse obedience, theyare all my prisoners, and, but for my pity on their blindness, shouldperish by the laws. "

Eager to open the prison door for his friend Ramsay, and littlesuspecting to what he was calling the insurgents, Scrymgeour hastenedto obey. Lorn and Badenoch gave him a very rough reception, utteringsuch rebellious defiance of the regent that the brave standard-bearerlost all patience, and denounced the immediate deaths of the wholerefractory assembly. "The courtyard, " cried he, "is armed withthousands of the regent's followers, his foot is on your necks, obey, or this will be a more grievous day for Scotland than even that ofFalkirk; for the Castle of Stirling will run with Scottish blood!" Atthis menace Badenoch became more enraged, and Scrymgeour, seeing nochance of prevailing by argument, sent a messenger to privately tellWallace the result. The regent immediately placed himself at the headof twenty men, and, re-entering the keep, went directly to the warder, whom he ordered, on his allegiance to the laws, to deliver SirAlexander Ramsay into his hands. He was obeyed, and returned with hisrecovered chieftain to the platform. When Scrymgeour was apprised ofthe knight's release, he turned to Badenoch, with whom he was stillcontending in furious debate, and demanded:

"Will you or will you not attend me to the regent? He of you all, "added he, addressing the chieftains, "who in this simple duty disobeys, shall receive from him the severer doom. "

Badenoch and Lorn, affecting to deride this menace, replied, they wouldnot for an empire do the usurper the homage of a moment's voluntaryattention; but if any of their followers chose to view the mockery, they were at liberty. A very few, and those of the least turbulentspirits went forth. They began to fear having embarked in a desperatecause; and, by their present acquiescence, were willing to deprecatethe wrath of Wallace, while thus assured of not exciting the resentmentof Badenoch. 

When Wallace looked around him and saw the space before the keep filledwith armed men and citizens, he ascended an elevated piece of ground, which rose a little to the left, and waving his hand in token that heintended to speak, a profound silence took place of the buzz ofadmiration, gratitude, and discontent. He then addressed the people:

"Brother soldiers! friends! And-am I so to distinguish Scots?-enemies!"

At this word, a loud cry of "Perish all who are the enemies of ourglorious regent!" penetrated to the inmost chambers of the citadel. 

Believing that the few of his partisans who had ventured out, werefalling under the vengeance of Wallace, Badenoch, with a brandishedweapon, and followed by the rest, sallied toward the door, but there hestopped, for he saw his friends standing unmolested. 

Wallace proceeded; and, with calm dignity, announced the hatred thatwas now poured upon him by a large part of that nobility who had beenso eager to invest him with the high office he then held. 

"Though they have broken their oaths, " cried he, "I have fulfilledmine! They vowed to me all lawful obedience; I swore to free Scotlandor to die. Every castle in this realm is restored to its ancient lord;every fortress is filled with a native garrison; the sea is coveredwith our ships, and the kingdom, one in itself, sits secure behind herwell-defended bulwarks. Such have I, through the strength of theAlmighty arm, made Scotland! Beloved by a grateful people, I couldwield half her power to the destruction of the rest; but I would notpluck one stone out of the building I have raised. To-day I deliver upmy commission, since its design is accomplished. I resign the regency. "

As he spoke, he took off his helmet, and stood uncovered before thepeople. 

"No, no!" seemed the voice from every lip; "we will acknowledge noother power, we will obey no other leader!"

Wallace expressed his sense of their attachment, but repeating to themthat he had fulfilled the end of his office, by setting them free, heexplained that his retaining it was no longer necessary. "Should Iremain your regent, " continued he, "the country would be involved inruinous dissensions. The majority of your nobles now find a vice inthe virtue they once extolled; and seeing its power, no longer needful, seek to destroy my upholders with myself. I therefore remove the causeof contention. I quit the regency; and I bequeath your liberty to thecare of your chiefs. But should it be again in danger, remember, thatwhile life breathes in this heart, the spirit of William Wallace willbe with you still!"

With these words he descended the mound, and mounted his horse, amidstthe cries and tears of the populace. They clung to his garments as herode along; and the women, with their children, throwing themselves ontheir knees in his path, implored him not to leave them to the inroadsof a ravager; not to abandon them to the tyranny of their own lords;who, unrestrained by a king, or a regent like himself, would soonsubvert his good laws, and reign despots over every district in thecountry. Wallace answered their entreaties with the language ofencouragement; adding, that he was not their prince, to lawfullymaintain a disputed power over the legitimate chiefs of the land. "But, " he said, "a rightful sovereign may yet be yielded to yourprayers; and to procure that blessing, daughters of Scotland, night andday invoke the Giver of every good gift. "

When Wallace and his weeping train separated, at the foot of FalkirkHill, he was met by his veterans of Lanark; who, having heard of whathad passed in the citadel, advanced to him with one voice, to declarethat they never would fight under any other commander. "Wherever youare, my faithful friends, " returned he, "you shall still obey my word. " When he entered the monastery, the opposition that was made to hisresignation of the regency, by the Bishop of Dunkeld, Lord Loch-awe, and others, was so vehement, so persuasive, that had not Wallace beensteadily principled not to involve his country in domestic war, he musthave yielded to the affectionate eloquence of their pleading. Butshowing to them the public danger attendant on his provoking the wildambition of the Cummins, and their multitudinous adherents, hisarguments, which the sober judgment of his friends saw conclusive, atlast ended the debate. He then rose, saying, "I have yet to perform myvow to our lamented Mar. I shall seek his daughter; and then, my bravecompanions, you shall hear of me, and, I trust, see me again!"

Chapter LVI. 

The Monastery. 

It being Lady Ruthven's wish that the remains of her brother should beentombed with his ancestors, preparations were made for the mournfulcavalcade to set forth toward Braemar Castle. The countess, hopingthat Wallace might be induced to accompany them, did not long object tothis proposal, which Lady Ruthven had enforced with tears. Had any oneseen the tow, and been called upon to judge, by their deportment, ofthe relationship in which each lady stood to the deceased, he must havedecided that the sister was the widow. At the moment of her husband'sdeath, Lady Mar had felt a shock; she had long looked for this event, as to the seal of her happiness; it was the sight of mortality thatappalled her. The man she doted on, nay, even herself, must one daylie as the object now before her-dead!-insensible to all earthly joys, or pains! but awake, perhaps, fearfully awake, to the judgments ofanother world! This conviction caused her shrieks, when she saw LordMar expire. Every obstacle between her and Wallace she now believedremoved. Her husband was dead; Helen was carried away by a mandevotedly enamored of her; and most probably was at that time his wife. The specters of conscience passed from her eyes; she no longer thoughtof death and judgment; and, under a pretense that her feelings couldnot bear the sight of her husband's bier, she determined to secludeherself in her own chamber, till the freshness of Wallace's grief forhis friend should have passed away. But when she heard, from theindignant Edwin, of the rebellious conduct of the young Lord Badenoch, and that the regent had abdicated, her consternation superseded allcaution. "I will soon humble that proud boy, " exclaimed she; "and lethim know, that in opposing the elevation of Sir William Wallace, hetreads down his own interest. You are beloved by the regent, Edwin!"cried she, interrupting herself, and clasping his hand withearnestness; "teach his enthusiastic heart the true interests of hiscountry! I am the first woman of the house of Cummin; and is not thatfamily the most powerful** in the kingdom? By the adherence of onebranch to Edward, the battle of Falkirk was lost; by the rebellion ofanother, the regent of Scotland is obliged to relinquish that dignity?It is in my power to move the whole race at my will; and if Wallacewould mingle his blood with theirs, would espouse me (an overture whichthe love I bear my country impels me to make), every nerve would thenbe strained to promote the elevation of their nearest kinswoman. Wallace would reign in Scotland, and the whole land lie at peace. "

**The family of Cummin was so powerful and numerous, that an incrediblenumber of chieftains of that name attended the first parliament whichRobert I. Held at Dunstaffnage Castle. The relationship between theheiress of Stratheaarn and that family was very near, her paternalgrandmother having been the daughter of a Lord Badenoch. --(1809. )

Edwin eyed her with astonishment while she spoke. All her late conductto his cousin Helen, to his uncle, and to Wallace, was now explained;and he saw in her flushed cheek, that it was not the patriot whodesired this match, but the enamored woman. 

"You do not answer, " said she; "have you any apprehension that SirWilliam Wallace would reject the hand which would give him a crown?which would dispense happiness to many thousand people?"

"No, " replied he; "I believe that, much as he is devoted to the memoryof her, whom alone he can ever love, could he purchase true happinessto Scotland by the sacrifice, he would espouse any virtuous woman whocould bring him so blessed a dowry. But in your case, my honored aunt, I can see no probability of such a consequence. In the first place, Iknow, that now the virtuous Earl of Badenoch is no more, he neitherrespects nor fears the Cummins; and that he would scorn to purchase acrown or even the people's happiness, by baseness in himself. To riseby their means, who, you have seen, will at any time immolate all thatis sacred to man to their own caprice, or fancied interests, would beunworthy of him; therefore, I am sure, if you wish to marry Sir WilliamWallace, you must not urge the use he may make of the Cummins as anargument. He need not stoop to cajole the men he may command. Did henot drive the one-half of their clan, with the English host to boot, toseek any shelter from his vengeance? And for them in the citadel, hadhe chosen to give the word, they would now be all numbered with thedust! Aunt! he has a Divine Master, whose example he follows, thoughin deep humility! He lays down his power; it is not taken from him. Earthly crowns are dross to him who looks for a heavenly one. Therefore, honored lady, believe it no longer necessary to wound yourdelicacy, by offering him a hand, which cannot produce the good youmeditate!"

The complexion of the countess varied a thousand times during thisanswer. Her reason assented to many parts of it; but the passion shecould not acknowledge to her nephew, urged her to persist. "You may beright, Edwin, " she replied; "but still, as there is nothing veryrepugnant in me, the project is surely worth trying! At any rate, evensetting the Cummins aside, a marriage with the daughter of Strathearn, by allying your noble friend to every illustrious house in the kingdom, would make his interest theirs, and all must unit in retaining to himthe regency. Scotland will be wrecked should he leave the helm; and, sweet Edwin, though your young heart is yet unacquainted with thestrange inconsistencies of the tenderest passion, I must whisper youthat your friend will never be happy till he again live in the bosom ofdomestic affection. "

"Ah! but where is he to find it?" cried Edwin. "what will ever restorehis Marion to his arms?"

"I, " cried she-"I will be more than ever Marion was to him! She knewnot-O! she could not-the boundless love that fills my heart for him!"Edwin's blushes at this wild declaration told her how far she hadbetrayed herself. She attempted to palliate what she could no longerconceal, and, covering her face with her hand, exclaimed, "You, wholove Sir William Wallace, cannot be surprised that all who adore humanexcellence should participate in that sentiment. How could I see him, the benefactor of my family, the blessing to all Scotland, and not lovehim?"

"True, " replied Edwin; "but not as a wife would love her husband! Youwere married. And was it possible you could feel thus when my unclelived? So strong a passion cannot have grown in your breast since hedied; for surely, love should not enter a widow's heart at the side ofan unburied husband!"

"Edwin!" replied she, "you, who never felt the throbs of this tyrant, judge with a severity you will one day regret. When you love, andstruggle with a passion that drinks your very life, you will pityJoanna of Mar, and forgive her!"

"I pity you now, aunt, " replied he; "but you bewilder me. I cannotunderstand the possibility of a virtuous married woman suffering anypassion of this kind to get such domination over her as to cause herone guilty sigh; for guilty must every wish be that militates againstthe duty of her marriage vow. Surely, love comes not in a whirlwind, to seize the soul at once; but grows by degrees, according to thedevelopment of the virtues of the object, and the freedom we giveourselves in their contemplation-and, if it be virtue that you love inSir William Wallace, had you not virtue in your noble husband?"

The countess perceived by the remarks of Edwin than he was deeper readin the human heart than she had suspected; that he was neither ignorantof the feelings of the passion, nor of what ought to be its source; andtherefore, with a deep blush, she replied:

"Think for a moment before you condemn me. I acknowledge every goodquality that your uncle possessed-but oh! Edwin, he had frailties thatyou know not of-frailties that reduced me to be, what the world neversaw, the most unhappy of women. "

Edwin turned pale at this charge against his uncle; and, while heforbore to draw aside the veil which covered the sacred dead, littledid he think that the artful woman meant a frailty to which she hadequally shared, and the consequences of which dangerous vanity hadconstrained her to become his wife. She proceeded:

"I married your uncle when I was a girl, and knew not that I had aheart. I saw Wallace; his virtues stole me from myself, and I found--In short, Edwin, your uncle became of too advanced an age to sympathizewith my younger heart. How could I, then, defend myself against themore congenial soul of your friend? He was reserved during Mar's life!but he did not repulse me with unkindness. I therefore hope; and doyou, my Edwin, gently influence him in my favor, and I will foreverbless you. "

"Aunt, " answered he, looking at her attentively, "can you, withoutdispleasure, hear me speak a few, perhaps ungrateful, truths?"

"Say what you will, " said she, trembling; "only be my advocate with thenoblest of human beings, and I can take naught amiss. "

"Lady Mar, " resumed he, "I answer you with unqualified sincerity, because I love you, and venerate the memory of my uncle, whosefrailties, whatever they might be, were visible to you alone. I answeryou with sincerity, because I would spare you much future pain, and SirWilliam Wallace a task that would pierce him to the soul. You confessthat he already knows you love him-that he has received suchdemonstrations with coldness. Recollect what it is you love him for, and then judge if he could do otherwise. Could he approve affectionswhich a wife transferred to him from her husband, and that husband hisfriend?"

"Ah! but he is now dead!" interrupted she; "that obstacle is removed. "

"But the other, which you raised yourself!" replied Edwin; "while awife, you showed to Sir William Wallace that you could not only indulgeyourself in wishes hostile to your nuptial faith, but divulge them tohim. Ah! my aunt, what could you look for as the consequence of this?My uncle yet lived when you did this! And that act, were you youthfulas Hebe, and more tender than ever was fabled the queen of love, I amsure, the virtue of Wallace would never pardon. He never could pledgehis faith to one whose passions had so far silenced her sense of duty;and did he even love you, he would not, for the empire of the world, repose his honor in such keeping. "

"Edwin!" cired she, at last summoning power to speak, for during thelatter part of this address she had sat gasping from unutterabledisappointment and rage; "are you not afraid to breathe all this to me? I have given you my confidence and do you abuse it? Do you stab me, when I ask you to heal?"

"No, my dear aunt, " replied he; "I speak the truth to you, ungratefulas it is, to prevent you hearing it in perhaps a more painful form fromWallace himself. "

"Oh, no!" cried she, with contemptuous haughtiness; "he is a man, andhe knows how to pardon the excesses of love! Look around you, foolishboy, and see how many of our proudest lords have united their fateswith women who not only loved them while their husbands lived, but lefttheir homes and children to join their lovers! And what is there inme, a princess of the crowns of Scotland and of Norway-a woman who hashad the nobles of both kingdoms at her feet, and frowned upon themall-that I should now be contemned? Is the ingrate for whom alone Iever felt a wish of love-is he to despise me for my passion? Youmistake, Edwin; you know not the heart of man. "

"Not of the common race of men, perhaps, " replied he; "but certainlythat of Sir William Wallace. Purity and he are too sincerely one forpersonal vanity to blind his eyes to the deformity of the passion youdescribe. And mean as I am when compared with him, I must aver that, were a married woman to love me, and seek to excuse her frailty, Ishould see alone her contempt of the principles which are the onlyimpregnable bulwarks of innocence, and shrink from her as I would frompollution. "

"Then you declare yourself my enemy, Edwin?"

"No, " replied he; "I speak to you as a son; but if you are determinedto avow to Sir William Wallace what you have revealed to me, I shallnot even observe on what has passed, but leave you, unhappy lady, tothe pangs I would have spared you. "

He rose. Lady Mar wrung her hands in a paroxysm of conviction thatwhat he said was true. 

"Then, Edwin, I must despair?"

He looked at her with pity. 

"Could you abhor the dereliction that your soul has thus made fromduty, and leave him, whom your unwidowed wishes now pursue, to seekyou; then I should say that you might be happy; for penitence appeasesGod, and shall it not find grace with man?"

"Blessed Edwin, " cried she, falling on his neck, and kissing him;"whisper but my penitence to Wallace; teach him to think I hate myself. Oh, make me that in his eyes which you would wish, and I will adoreyou on my knees?"

The door opened at this moment, and Lord Ruthven entered. The tearsshe was profusely shedding on the bosom of his son, he attributed tosome conversation she might be holding respecting her deceased lord, and taking her hand, he told her he came to propose her immediateremoval from the scene of so many horrors. 

"My dear sister, " said he, "I will attend you as far as Perth. Afterthat, Edwin shall be your guard to Braemar, and my Janet will stay withyou there till time has softened your griefs. "

Lady Mar looked at him. 

"And where will be Sir William Wallace?"

"Here, " answered Ruthven. "Some considerations, consequent to hisreceiving the French dispatches, will hold him some time longer southof the Forth. "

Lady Mar shook her head doubtfully, and reminded him that the chiefs inthe citadel had withheld the dispatches. 

Lord Ruthven then informed her that, unknown to Wallace, Lord Loch-awehad summoned the most powerful of his friends then near Stirling, andattended by them, was carried on a littler into the citadel. Itentered the council-hall, and from that bed of honorable wounds, hethreatened the assembly with instant vengeance from his troops without, unless they would immediately swear fealty to Wallace, and compelBadenoch to give up the French dispatches. Violent tumults were theconsequence; but Loch-awe's litter being guarded by a double rank ofarmed chieftains, and the keep being hemmed round by his men preparedto put to the sword every Scot hostile to the proposition of theirlord, the insurgents at last complied, and forced Badenoch torelinquish the royal packet. This effected, Loch-awe and his trainreturned to the monastery. Wallace refused to resume the dignity hehad resigned, the reinvestment of which had been extorted from thelords in the citadel. 

"No, " said he to Loch-awe; "it is indeed time that I should sink intoshades where I cannot be found, since I am become a word of contentionamongst my countrymen. "

"He was not to be shaken, " continued Ruthven; "but seeing matter in theFrench dispatches that ought to be answered without delay, he yetremains a few days at Falkirk. "

"Then we will await him here, " cried the countess. 

"That cannot be, " answered Ruthven, "it would be against ecclesiasticallaw to detain the sacred dead so long from the grave. Wallace willdoubtless visit Braemar, therefore I advise that to-morrow you leaveFalkirk. "

Edwin seconded this counsel; and fearing to make further opposition, she silently acquiesced. But her spirit was not so quiescent. Atnight when she went to her cell, her ever wakeful fancy aroused athousand images of alarm. She remembered the vow that Wallace had madeto seek Helen. He had already given up the regency--an office whichmight have detained him from such a pursuit; and might not a passionsofter than indignation against the ungrateful chieftains have dictatedthis act? "Should he love Helen, what is there not to fear?" criedshe; "and should he meet her, I am undone?" Racked by jealousy, andgoaded by contradicting expectations, she rose from her bed and pacedthe room in wild disorder. One moment she strained her mind torecollect every gracious look or word from him, and then herimagination glowed with anticipated delight. Again she thought of hisaddress to Helen, of his vow in her favor, and she was driven todespair. All Edwin's kind admonitions were forgotten; passion alonewas awake; and forgetful of her rank and sex, and of her situation, shedetermined to see Wallace, and appeal to his heart for the last time. She knew that he slept in an apartment at the other end of themonastery; and that she might pass thither unobserved, she glided intoan opposite cell belonging to a sick monk, and stealing away his cloak, threw it over her, and hurried along the cloisters. 

The chapel doors were open. In passing, she saw the bier of her lordawaiting the hour of its removal, surrounded by priests, singinganthems for the repose of his soul. No tender recollections, noremorse, knocked at the heart of Lady mar as she sped along. Abandonedall to thoughts of Wallace, she felt not that she had a soul; sheacknowledged not that she had a hope, but what centered in the smilesof the man she was hastening to seek. 

His door was fastened with a latch; she gently opened it, and foundherself in his chamber. She trembled--she scarcely breathed; shelooked around; she approached his bed--but he was not there. Disappointment palsied her heart, and she sunk upon a chair. "Am Ibetrayed?" said she to herself: "Has that youthful hypocrite warned himhence?" And then again she thought, "But how should Edwin guess that Ishould venture here? Oh, no, my cruel stars alone are against me!"

She now determined to await his return, and nearly three hours she hadpassed there, enduring all the torments of guilt and misery; but heappeared not. At last, hearing the matinbell, she started up, fearfulthat her maids might discover her absence. Compelled by some regard toreputation, with an unwilling mind she left the shrine of her idolatry, and once more crossed the cloisters. While again drawing toward thechapel, she saw Wallace himself issue from the door, supporting on hisbosom the fainting head of Lady Ruthven. Edwin followed them. LadyMar pulled the monk's cowl over her face and withdrew behind a pillar. "Ah!" thought she, "absenting myself from my duty, I fled from thee!"She listened with breathless attention to what might be said. 

Lord Ruthven met them at that instant. "This night's watching by thebier of her brother, " said Wallace, "has worn out your gentle lady; westrove to support her through these sad vigils, but at last she sunk. "What Ruthven said in reply, when he took his wife in his arms, thecountess could not hear; but Wallace answered, "I have not seen her. "

"I left her late in the evening drowned in tears, " replied Ruthven, ina more elevated tone, "I therefore suppose that in secret she offersthose prayers for her deceased husband, which my tender Janet poursover his grave. "

"Such tears, " replied Wallace, "are Heaven's own balm; I know theypurify the heart whence they flow. Yes; and the prayers we breathe forthose we love, unite our souls the closer to theirs. Look up, dearLady Ruthven, " said he, as she began to revive, "look up and hear howyou may, while still on earth, retain the society of your belovedbrother! Seek his spirit at the footstool of God. 'Tis thus I live, sister of my most venerated friend! My soul is ever on the wing ofheaven, whether in the solitary hour, in joy, or in sorrow, for theeeremy treasure lives!"

"Wallace! Wallace" cried Lady Ruthven, looking on his animatedcountenance with wondering rapture; "and art thou a man of earth and ofthe sword? Oh! rather say, an angel; lent us here a little while toteach us to live and to die!"

A glowing blush passed over the pale but benign cheek of Wallace. 

"I am a soldier of Him who was, indeed, brought into the world to showus, by his life and death, how to be virtuous and happy. Know me, bymy life, to be his follower; and David himself wore not a more glorioustitle!"

Lady mar, while she contemplated the matchless form before her, exclaimed to herself, "Why is it animated by as faultless a soul? Oh, Wallace! wert thou less excellent, I might hope; but hell is in myheart, and heaven in thine!"

She tore her eyes from a view which blasted while it charmed her, andrushed from the cloisters. 

Chapter LVII. 

Durham. 

The sun rose as the funeral procession of the Earl of Mar moved frombefore the gates of the monastery at Falkirk. Lord Ruthven and Edwinmounted their horses. The maids of the two ladies led them forthtoward the litters which were to convey them so long a journey. LadyRuthven came first, and Wallace placed her tenderly in her carriage. The countess next appeared, clad in the deep weeds of widowhood. Herchild followed in the arms of its nurse. At the sight of the innocentbabe, whom he had so often seen pressed to the fond bosom of the fatherit was now following to his grace, tears rushed into the eyes ofWallace. Lady Mar hid the tumult of her feelings on the shoulder ofher maid. He advanced to her respectfully, and handing her to hervehicle, urged her to cherish life for the sake of her child. Shethrew herself with increased agitation on her pillow, and Wallace, deeming the presence of her babe the surest comforter, laid it tenderlyby her side. At that moment, before he had relinquished it, she benther face upon his hands, and bathing them with tears, faintly murmured, "Oh! Wallace, remember me!" Lord Ruthven rode up to bid adieu to hisfriend, and the litters moved on. Wallace promised that both he andEdwin should hear of him in the course of a few days; andaffectionately grasping the hand of the latter, bade him farewell. 

Hear of him they should, but not see him; for it was his determinationto set off that night for Durham, where, he was informed, Edward nowlay, and, joined by his young queen, meant to sojourn till his woundswere healed. Believing that his presence in Scotland could no longerbe serviceable, and would engender continual intestine divisions, Wallace did not hesitate in fixing his course. His first object was tofulfill his vow to Lord Mar. He thought it probable, that Helen mighthave been carried to the English court; and that in seeking her, hemight also attempt an interview with young Bruce; hoping to learn howfar he had succeeded in persuading his father to leave the vassalage ofEdward, and once more dare resuming the specter of his ancestors. 

To effect his plan without hinderance, on the disappearance of thefuneral cavalcade, Wallace retired to his apartment to address a letterto Lord Ruthven. In this epistle he told the chief that he was goingon an expedition which he hoped would prove beneficial to his country;but it was an enterprise of rashness, he would not make any one hiscompanion; he therefore begged Lord Ruthven to teach his friends toconsider with candor a flight they might otherwise deem unkind. 

All the brother was in his letter to Edwin, conjuring him to prove hisaffection for his friend by quietly abiding at home till they shouldmeet again in Scotland. 

He wrote to Andrew Murray (now Lord Bothwell), addressing him as thefirst of his compatriots who had struck a blow for Scotland; and, ashis dear friend and brother soldier, he confided to his care thevaliant troop which had followed him from Lanark. "Tell them, " saidhe, "that in obeying you they still serve with me, they perform theirduty to Scotland at home--I abroad; our aim is the same; and we shallmeet again at the consummation of our labors. "

These letters he inclosed in one to Scrymgeour, with orders to dispatchtwo of them according to their directions; but that to Murray, Scrymgeour was himself to deliver at the head of the Lanark veterans. 

At the approach of twilight Wallace quitted the monastery, leaving hispacket with the porter, to present to Scrymgeour when he should arriveat his usual hour. As the chief meant to assume a border-minstrel'sgarb, that he might travel the country unrecognized as its once adoredregent, he took his way toward a large hollow oak in Tor Wood, where hehad deposited his means of disguise. When arrive there he disarmedhimself of all but his sword, dirk, and breastplate; he covered histartan gambeson with a minstrel's cassock, and staining his brightcomplexion with the juice of a nut, concealed his brighter locksbeneath a close bonnet. Being thus equipped, he threw his harp over hisshoulder; and having first, in that solitude, where no eye beheld, noear heard but that of God, invoked a blessing on his enterprise, with abuoyant spirit--rejoicing in the power in whose light he moved--he wentforth, and under the sweet serenity of a summer night pursued his wayalong the broom-clad hills of Muiravenside. 

All lay in profound rest-not a human creature crossed his path till thecarol of the lark summoned the husbandman to his toil, and spread thethymy hills and daisied pastures with herds and flocks. As the lowingof cattle descending to the water, and the bleating of sheep, hailingthe morning beam, came on the breeze, mingled with the joyous voices oftheir herdsmen, calling to each other from afar--as all met the ear ofWallace--his conscious heart could not but whisper: "I have been thehappy instrument to effect this! I have restored every man to hispaternal fields! I have filled all these honest breasts with gladness!"

He stopped at a little moss-covered cabin on the burn-side, beneathCraig Castle in Mid-Lothian, and was hospitably entertained by itssimple inhabitants. Wallace repaid their kindness with a few ballads, which he sung accompanied by his harp. As he gave the last notes of"King Arthur's Death in Glory, " the worthy cotter raised his head fromthe spade on which he leaned, and asked whether he could not sing theglory of Scotland. 

"Our renowned Wallace, " said he, "is worth King Arthur and all thestranger knights of his round table, for he not only conquers for us inwar, but establishes us in happy peace. Who like him, of all our greatcaptains, ever took such care of the poor as to give them, not only thebread which sustains temporal, but that which supports eternal life?Sing us then his praises, minstrel, and tarry with us days instead ofhours. "

The wife, and the children who clung around their melodious visitant, joined in this request. Wallace rose with a saddened smile, andreplied:

"I cannot do what you require; but I can yield you an opportunity tooblige Sir William Wallace. Will you take a letter from him, of whichI am the bearer, to Lord Dundaf at Berwick? I have been seeking, whatI have now found, a faithful Scot, with whom I could confide thistrust. It is to reveal to a father's heart the death of a son, forwhom Scotland must mourn to her latest generations. "

The honest shepherd respectfully accepted this mission; and his wife, loading her guest's scrip with her choicest fruits and cakes, accompanied him, followed by the children, to the bottom of the hill. 

In this manner, sitting at the board of the lowly, and sleeping beneaththe thatched roof, did Wallace pursue his way through Tweedale andEttrick Forest, till he reached the Cheviots. From every lip he heardhis own praises, heard them with redoubled satisfaction, for he couldhave no suspicion of their sincerity, as they were uttered withoutexpectation of their ever reaching the regent's ear. 

It was the Sabbath day when he mounted the Cheviots. He stood on oneof their summits, and leaning on his harp, contemplated the fertiledales he left behind. The gay villagers, in their best attires, werethronging to their churches; while the aged, too infirm for the walk, were sitting in the sun at their cottage doors, adoring the AlmightyBenefactor in his sublimer temple of the universe. All spoke ofsecurity and happiness. "Thus I leave thee, beloved Scotland! And onrevisiting these hills, may I still behold thy sons and daughtersrejoicing in the heaven-bestowed peace of their land!"

Having descended into Northumberland, his well-replenished script washis provider; and when it was exhausted, he purchased food from thepeasantry; he would not accept the hospitality of a country he had solately trodden as an enemy. Here he heard his name mentioned withterror as well as admiration. While many related circumstances ofmisery to which the ravaging of their lands had reduced them, allconcurred in praising the moderation with which the Scottish leadertreated his conquests. 

Late in the evening, he arrived on the banks of the river thatsurrounds the episcopal city of Durham. He crossed FramlinggateBridge. His mistrel garb prevented his being stopped by the guard atthe gate; but as he entered its porch, a horse that was going throughstarted at his abrupt appearance. Its rider suddenly exclaimed, "Fool, thou dost not see Sir William Wallace!" Then turning to the disguisedknight, "Harper, " cried he, "you frighten my steed; draw back till Ipass. " Not displeased to find the terror him so great amongst theenemies of Scotland, that they even addressed their animals as sharersin the dread, Wallace stood out of the way, and saw the speaker to be ayoung Southron knight, who with difficulty kept his seat on the restivehorse. Rearing and plunging, it would have thrown its rider, had notWallace put forth his hand and seized the bridle. By his assistance, the animal was soothed; and the young lord thanking him for hisservice, told him that, as a reward, he would introduce him to playbefore the queen, who that day held a feast at the bishop's palace. Wallace thought it probable he might see or hear of Lady Helen in thisassembly, or find access to Bruce, and he gladly accepted the offer. The knight, who was Sir Piers Gaveston, ordering him to follow, turnedhis horse toward the city, and conducted Wallace through the gates ofthe citadel, to the palace within its walls. 

On entering the banqueting-hall, he was placed by the knight in themusicians' gallery, there to await his summons to her majesty. Thisentertainment being spread, and the room full of guests, the queen wasled in by the haughty bishop of the see, the king being too ill of hiswounds to allow his joining so large a company. The beauty of thelovely sister of Philip le Bel seemed to fill the gaze and hearts ofall bystanders, and none appeared to remember that Edward was absent. Wallace hardly glanced on her youthful charms; his eyes roamed fromside to side in quest of a fairer, a dearer object--the captivedaughter of his dead friend! She was not there; neither was DeValence; but Buchan, Athol, and Soulis, were near the royal Margaret;in all the pomp of feudal grandeur. In vain waived the trophiedbanners over their heads; they sat sullen and revengeful, for thedefeat on the Carron had obscured the treacherous victory of Falkirk;and instead of having presented Edward to his young queen as theconqueror of Scotland; she had found him, and them fugitives in thecastle of Durham!

Immediately on the royal band ceasing to play, Gaveston pressed towardthe queen, and told her he had presumed to introduce a travelingminstrel into the gallery; hoping that she would order him to performfor her amusement, as he could sing legends from the descent of theRomans to the victories of her royal Edward. With all her age'seagerness in quest of novelties, she commanded him to be brought to her. 

Gaveston having presented him, Wallace bowed with the respect due toher sex and dignity, and to the esteem in which he held the characterof her royal brother. Margaret desired him to place his harp beforeher, and begin to sing. As he knelt on one knee, and struck itssounding chords, she stopped him by the inquiry, of whence he came?

"From the north country, " was his reply. 

"Were you ever in Scotland?" asked she. 

"Many times. "

The young lords crowded round to hear this dialogue between majesty andlowliness. She smiled, and turned toward them. 

"Do not accuse me of disloyalty, but I have a curiosity to ask anotherquestion. "

"Nothing your majesty wishes to know, " said Bishop Beck, "can be amiss. "

"Then tell me, " cried she--"for you wandering minstrels see all greatpeople, good or bad, else how could you make songs about them!--did youever see Sir William Wallace in your travels?"

"Often, madam. "

"Pray tell me what he is like! you probably will be unprejudiced, andthat is what I can hardly expect in this case from any of these bravelords. "

Wishing to avoid further questioning on this subject, Wallace replied:

"I have never seen him so distinctly as to be enabled to prove anyright to your majesty's opinion of my judgment. "

"Cannot you sing me some ballad about him?" inquired she, laughing;"and if you are a little poetical in your praise, I can excuse you; formy royal brother thinks this bold Scot would have shone brightly in afairer cause. "

"My songs are dedicated to glory set in the grave, " returned Wallace, "therefore Sir William Wallace's faults or virtues will not be sung byme. "

"Then he is a very young man, I suppose? for you are not old, and yetyou speak of not surviving him. I was in hopes, " cried she, addressingBeck, "that my lord the king would have brought this Wallace to havesupped with me here; but for once rebellion overcame its master. "

Beck made some reply which Wallace did not hear, and the queen againturning to him resumed:

"Minstrel, we French ladies are very fond of a good mien; and I shallbe a little reconciled to your northern realms if you tell me that SirWilliam Wallace is anything like as handsome as some of the gay knightsby whom you see me surrounded. "

Wallace smiled, and replied:

"The comeliness of Sir William Wallace lies in a strong arm and afeeling heart; and if these be charms in the eyes of female goodness, he may hope to be not quite an object of abhorrence to the sister ofPhilip le Bel!"

The minstrel bowed as he spoke, and the young queen laughing again, said:

"I wish not to come within the influence of either. But sing me someScottish legend, and I will promise wherever I see the knight to treathim with all courtesy due to valor. "

Wallace again struck the chords of his harp; and with a voice whosefull and melodious tones rolled round the vast dome of the hall, hesung the triumphs of Beuther. ** The queen fixed her eyes upon him; andwhen he ended, she turned and whispered Gavestton:

"If the voice of this man had been Wallace's trumpet, I should not nowwonder at the discomfiture of England. He almost tempted me from myallegiance, as the warlike animation of his notes seemed to charge theflying Southrons. "

**In commemoration of the victory which this ancient Scottish princeobtained over the Britons before the Christian era, the field ofconquest has ever since been called Rutherglen. 

Speaking, she rose, and presenting a jeweled ring to the mistrel, leftthe apartment. 

The lords crowded out after her, and the musicians coming down from thegallery, seated themselves with much rude jollity to regale on theremnants of the feast. Wallace, who had discovered the senachie ofBrue by the escutcheon of Annandale suspended at his neck, gladly sawhim approach. He came to invite the stranger minstrel to partake oftheir fare. Wallace did not appear to decline it, and as the courtbard seemed rather devoted to the pleasures of wine, he found it notdifficult to draw from him what he wanted to know. He learned thatyoung Bruce was still in the castle under arrest, "and, " added thesenachie, "I shall feel no little mortification in being obliged, inthe course of half an hour, to relinquish these festivities for thegloomy duties of his apartment. "

This was precisely the point to which Wallace had wished to lead him;and pleading disrelish of wine, he offered to supply his place in theearl's chamber. The half-intoxicated bard accepted the propositionwith eagerness; and as the shades of nigh had long closed in, heconducted his illustrious substitute to the large round tower of thecastle, informing him as they went along, that he must continue playingin a recess adjoining Bruce's room till the last vesper bell from theabbey in the neighborhood should give the signal for his laying asidethe harp. At that time the earl would be fallen asleep, and he mightthen lie down on a pallet he would find in the recess. 

All this Wallace promised punctually to obey; and being conducted bythe senachie up a spiral staircase, was left in the little anteroom. The chief drew the cowl of his minstrel cloak over his face and set hisharp before him in order to play. He could see through its stringsthat a group of knights were in earnest conversation at the further endof the apartment; but they spoke so low he could not distinguish whatwas said. One of the party turned round, and the light of a suspendedlamp discovered him to be the brave Earl Gloucester, whom Wallace hadtaken, and released at Berwick. The same ray showed another to bePercy, Earl of Northumberland. Wallace found the strangeness of hissituation. He, the conqueror of Edward, to have been singing as amendicant in his halls; and having given laws to the two great menbefore him, he now sat in their view unobserved and unfeared! Theirfigures concealed that of Bruce, but at last when all rose together, heheard Gloucester say, in rather an elevated voice, "Keep up yourspirits. This envy of your base countrymen must recoil uponthemselves. It cannot be long before King Edward discovers the motivesof their accusations, and his noble nature will acquit you accordingly. "

"My acquittal, " replied Bruce, in a firm tone, "cannot restore whatEdward's injustice has rifled from me. I abide by the test of my ownactions, and by it will open the door of my freedom. Your king maydepend on it, " added he, with a sarcastic smile, "that I am not a manto be influenced against the right. Where I owe duty I will pay it tothe uttermost farthing. "

Not apprehending the true meaning of this speech, Percy immediatelyanswered, "I believe you, and so must all that world; for did you notgive brave proofs of it that fearful night on the Carron, in bearingarms against the triumphant Wallace?"

"I did indeed give proofs of it, " returned Bruce, "which I hope theworld will one day know, by bearing arms against the usurper of mycountry's rights! and in defiance of injustice and of treason, beforemen and angels I swear, " cried he, "to perform my duty to the end-toretrieve, to honor the insulted, the degraded name of Bruce!"

The two earls fell back before the vehement action which accompaniedthis burst from the soul of Bruce; and Wallace caught a glimpse of hisyouthful form, which stood pre-eminent in patriotic virtue between theSouthron lords: his fine countenance glowed, and his brave spiritseemed to emanate in light from every part of his body. "My prince andbrother!" exclaimed Wallace to himself, ready to rush forward and throwhimself at his feet, or into his arms. 

Gloucester, as little as Northumberland, comprehending Bruce'sambiguous declaration, replied, "Let not your heart, my brave friend, burn too hotly against the king for this arrest. He will be the moreurgent to obliterate by kindness this injustice when he understands theaims of the Cummins. I have myself felt his misplaced wrath; and whonow is more favored by Edward than Ralph de Monthermer? My case willbe yours. Good night, Bruce. May propitious dreams repeat the auguryof your true friends!" Percy shook hands with the young earl, and thetwo English lords left the room. 

Wallace could now take a more leisurely survey of Bruce. He no longerwore gay embroidered hacqueton; his tunic was black velvet, and all therest of his garments accorded with the same mourning hue. Soon afterthe lords had quitted him, the buoyant elasticity of his figure, whichbefore seemed ready to rise from the earth, so was his soul elevated byhis sublime resolves, gave way to melancholy retrospections, and hethrew himself into a chair with his hands clasped upon his knee and hiseyes fixed in musing gaze upon the floor. It was now that Wallacetouched the strings of his harp. "The Death of Cathullin" wailed fromthe sounding notes; but Bruce heard as though he heard them not; theysooth his mood without his perceiving what it was that calmed, yetdeepened, the saddening thoughts which possessed him. His postureremained the same; and sigh after sigh gave the only response to thestrains of the bard. 

Wallace grew impatient for the chimes of that vesper bell which, byassuring Bruce's attendants that he was going to rest, would securefrom interruption the conference he meditated. Two servants entered. Bruce, scarcely looking up, bade them withdraw; he should not needtheir attendance; he did not know when he should go to bed; and hedesired to be no further disturbed. The men obeyed; and Wallace, changing the melancholy strain of his harp, struck the chords to theproud triumph he had played in the hall. Not one note of either balladhad he yet sung to Bruce; but when he came to the passage in the latterappropriated to these lines--

"Arise, glory of Albin, from thy cloud, And shine upon thy own!"

he could not forbear giving the words voice. Bruce started from hisseat. He looked toward the minstrel--he walked the room in greatdisorder. The pealing sounds of the harp, and his own mentalconfusion, prevented his distinguishing that it was not the voice ofhis senachie. The words alone he heard; and they seemed a call whichhis heart panted to obey. The hand of Wallace paused upon theinstrument. He looked around to see that observation was indeed at adistance. Not that he dreaded harm to himself, for his magnanimousmind, courageous from infancy, by a natural instinct had never knownpersonal fear; but anxious not to precipitate Bruce into uselessdanger, he first satisfied himself that all was safe, and then, as theyoung earl sat in a paroxysm of racking reflections (for they broughtself-blame, or rather a blame on his father, which pierced him to theheart), Wallace slowly advanced from the recess. The agitated Bruce, accidentally raising his head, beheld a man in a minstrel's garb, muchto tall to be his senachie, approaching him with a caution which hethought portended treachery. He sprung to his feet, and caught hissword from the table; but, in that moment, Wallace threw off his cowl. Bruce stood gazing on him, stiffened with astonishment. Wallace, in alow voice, exclaimed, "My prince! do you not know me?" Bruce, withoutspeaking, threw his arms about his neck. He was silent, as he hung onhim, but his tears flowed; he had much to say, but excess of emotionrendered it unutterable. As Wallace returned the fond embrace offriendship, he gently said, "How is it that I not only see you a closeprisoner, but in these weeds?" Bruce at last forced himself toarticulate: "I have known misery, in all its forms, since we parted;but I have not power to name even my grief of griefs, while tremblingat the peril to which you have exposed yourself by seeking me! Thevanquisher of Edward, the man who snatched Scotland from his grasp, were he known to be within these walls, would be a prize for which theboiling revenge of the tyrant would give half his kingdom! Think, then, my friend, how I shudder at this daring. I am surrounded byspies, and should you be discovered, Robert Bruce will then have thecurses of his country added to the judgments which already have fallenon his head. " As he spoke, they sat down together, and he continued:"Before I answer your questions, tell me what immediate cause couldbring you to seek the alien Bruce in prison, and by what stratagem youcame in this disguise into my apartment? Tell me the last, that I mayjudge, by the means, of your present safety!"

Wallace briefly related the events which had sent him from Scotland, his reencounter with Piers Gaveston, and his arrangement with thesenachie. To the first part of the narrative, Bruce listened withindignation. "I knew, " exclaimed he, "from the boastings of Athol andBuchan, that they had left in Scotland some dregs of heir ownrefractory spirits; but I could not have guessed that envy had soobliterated gratitude in the hearts of my countrymen. The wolves havenow driven the shepherd from the fold, " cried he, "and the flock willsoon be devoured! Fatal was the hour for Scotland, and your friend, when you yielded to the voice of faction, and relinquished the powerwhich would have finally given peace to the nation!"

Wallace recapitulated his reasons for having refrained from forcing theobedience of the young Lord Badenoch and his adherents; for abdicatinga dignity he could no longer maintain without shedding the blood of themisguided men who opposed him. Bruce acknowledged the wisdom of thisconduct, but could not restrain his animadversions on the characters ofthe Cummins. He told Wallace that he had met the two sons of the lateLord Badenoch in Guienne; that James, who now pretended such resentmentof his father's death, had ever been a rebellious son. John, who yetremained in France, appeared of a less violent temper; "but, " added theprince, "I have been taught by one who will never counsel me more, thatall the Cummins, male and female, would be ready at any time tosacrifice earth and heaven to their ambition. It is to Buchan andAthol that I owe my prolonged confinement, and to them I may date thepremature death of my father. "

The start of Wallace declared his shock at this information. "How?"exclaimed he, "The Earl of Carrick dead? Fell, fell assassins of theircountry!" The swelling emotions of his soul would not allow him toproceed, and Bruce resumed: "It is for him I wear these sablegarments--poor emblems of the mournings of my soul, mournings, not somuch for his loss (and that is grievous as ever son bore), but becausehe lived not to let the world know what he really was; he lived not tobring into light his long-obscured honor! There, there, Wallace, isthe bitterness of this cup to me!"

"But can you not sweeten it, my dear prince, " cried Wallace, "byretrieving all that he was cut off from redeeming? To open the way toyou I come. "

"And I will enter where you point, " returned Bruce; "but heavy is mywoe that, knowing the same spirit was in my father's bosom, he shouldbe torn from the opportunity to make it manifest. Oh, Wallace! that heshould be made to lie down in a dishonored grave! Had he lived, myfriend, he would have brightened that name which rumor has sullied, andI should have doubly gloried in wearing the name he had rendered soworthy of being coupled with the kingly title. Noble was he in soul;but he fell amidst a race of men whose art was equal to their venality, and he became their dupe. Betrayed by friendship, he sunk into thesnare; for he had no dishonor in his own breast to warn him of whatmight be the villainy of others. He believed the cajoling speeches ofEdward, who, on the first offense of Baliol, had promised to place myfather on the throne. Month after month passed away, and theengagement was unperformed. The disturbance on the Continent seemed tohis confiding nature a sufficient excuse for these various delays; andhe waited in quiet expectation till your name, my friend, rose gloriousin Scotland. My father and myself were then in Guienne; Edwardpersuaded him that you affected the crown; and he returned with thatdeceiver to draw his sword against his people and their ambitiousidol--for so he believed you to be; and grievous has been the expiationof that fatal hour! Your conference with him on the banks of theCarron opened his eyes; he saw what his credulity had made Scotlandsuffer; what a wreck he had made of his own fame; and from that momenthe resolved to follow another course. But the habit of trusting theaffection of Edward inclined him rather to remonstrate on his rightsthan immediately to take up arms against him; yet, resolved not tostrike a second blow on his people, when you assailed the Southron camphe withdrew his few remaining followers, who had survived thehard-fought day of Falkirk, into a remote defile. On quitting you, Icame up with him in Mid=Lothian; and never having missed me from thecamp, he concluded that I had appeared thus late from having kept inthe rear of the division. "

Bruce now proceeded to narrate to Wallace the particulars of hisfather's meeting with the king at Durham. Instead of that monarchreceiving the Earl of Carrick with his wonted familiar welcome, heturned coldly from him when he approached, and suffered him to take hisusual seat at the royal table without deigning him the slightestnotice. Young Bruce was absent from the banquet, having determinednever to mingle again in social communion with the man whom he nowregarded as the usurper of his father's rights. The absence of thefilial eye which had once looked the insolent Buchan into his inherentinsignificance, now emboldened the audacity of this enemy of the houseof Carrick; and, supported by Athol on the one side, and Soulis on theother, the base voluptuary seized a pause in the conversation (that hemight draw the attention of all present to the disgrace of the chief), and said, with affected carelessness, "My Lord of Carrick, to-day youdine with clean hands; the last time, I saw you at meat, they weregarnished with your own blood!" The earl turned on him a look whichasked him to explain. Lord Buchan laughed, and continued, "When welast met at table, was it not in his majesty's tent after the victoryat Falkirk? You were then red from the slaughter of those bastardizedpeople to whom I understand you now give the fond appellation of sons. Having recognized the relationship, it was not probable we should againsee your hands in their former brave livery; and their present pallidhue convinces more than myself, of the truth of our information. "

"And me, " cried Edward, rising on the couch to which his woundsconfined him, "that I have discovered a traitor! You fled, LordCarrick, at the first attack which the Scots made on my camp, and youdrew thousands after you. I know you too well to believe thatcowardice impelled the motion. It was treachery, accursed treachery toyour friend and king; and you shall feel the weight of his resentment!"

"to this hour, Kind Edward, " replied the earl, starting from his chair, "I have been more faithful to you than to my country or my God! Iheard, saw, and believed, only what you determined; and I became yourslave, your vile, oppressed slave! the victim of your artifice! Howoften have you pledged yourself that you fought in Scotland only for myadvantage! I gave my faith and my power to you; and how often have youpromised, after the next successful battle, to restore me to the crownof my ancestors! I still believed you, and I still engaged all who yetacknowledged the influence of Bruce, to support your name in Scotland. Was not such the reiterated promise by which you allured me to thefield of Falkirk? And when I had covered myself, as Lord Buchan tootruly says, with the blood of my children; when I asked my friend forthe crown I had served for, what was his answer? 'Have I naught to dobut to win kingdoms to make gifts of?' Thus, then, did a king, afriend, break his often-repreated word! What wonder, then, that Ishould feel the indignation of a prince and a friend; and leave thefalse, alas! the perjured, to defenders whom he seemed more highly toapprove? But of treachery, what have I shown? Rather confidence, KingEdward; and the confidence that was awakened in the fields of Palestinebrought me hither to-day to remonstrate with you on my rights; when bythrowing myself into the arms of my people, I might have demanded themat the head of a victorious army. "

Edward, who had prepared by the Cummins to discredit all that Carrickmight say in his defense, turned with a look of contempt toward him, and said, "You have persuaded to act like a madman, and as maniacs bothyourself and your son shall be guarded till I have leisure to considerany rational evidence you may in future offer in your vindication. "

"And is this the manner, King Edward, that you treat your friend, onceyour preserver?"

"The vassal, " replied Edward, "who presumes upon the condescension ofhis prince, and acts as if he were really his equal, ought to meet thepunishment due to such arrogance. You saved my life on the walls ofAcre; but you owed that duty to the son of your liege lord. In thefervor of youth I inconsiderately rewarded you with my friendship, andthe return is treason. " As he concluded he turned from Lord Carrick;and the marshals immediately seizing the earl, took him to the keep ofthe castle. **

**These speeches are historically true; as is also Edward'safter-treatment of the Earl of Carrick. 

His son, who had been sought in the Carrick quarters, and laid under anarrest, met his father in the guard-chamber. Carrick could not speak;but motioning to be conducted to the place appointed for his prison, the men with equal silence led him through a range of apartments whichoccupied the middle story, and stopping in the furthest, left him therewith his son. Bruce was not surprised at his own arrest; but at thatof his father, he stood in speechless astonishment until the guardswithdrew; then, seeing Lord Carrick with a changing countenance throwhimself on the bed (for it was in his sleeping room they had left him), he exclaimed, "What is the meaning of this, my father? Has any chargeagainst me brought suspicion on you?"

"No, Robert, no, " replied the earl; "it is I who have brought you intothis prison, and into disgrace; disgrace with all the world, for havingtacitly surrendered my inheritance to the invader of my country. Honest men abhor, villains treat me with contumely; and he for whom Iincurred all this, because I would not, when my eyes were open to mysin, again imbrue my hands in the blood of my country, now thrusts mefrom him! You are implicated in my crime; and for not joining theSouthrons to repel the Scots from the royal camp, we are bothprisoners!"

"Then, " replied Bruce, " he shall feel that you have a son who hasvirtue to be what he suspects; and from this hour I proclaim eternalenmity to the betrayer of my father; to the ingrate who embraced you todestroy!"

The indignation of the youthful prince wrought him to so vehement adeclaration of resolute and immediate hostility, that Lord Carrick wasobliged to give his transports way; but when he saw that hisdenunciations were exhausted, though not the determined purpose of hissoul (for he trod the room with a step which seemed to shake itsfoundations, with the power of his mighty mind), Carrick gazed on himwith pride, yet grief, and sighing heavily called him to approach him. "Come to me, my Robert!" said he, "hear and abide by the lastinjunctions of your father, for from this bed I may never rise more. Atoo late sense of the injuries my sanction has doubled on the people Iwas born to protect, and the ingratitude of him for whom I haveoffended my God and wronged my country, have broken my heart. I shalldie, Robert, but you will avenge me!"

"May God so prosper me!" cried Bruce, raising his arms to heaven. Carrick resumed:

"Attend to me, my dear and brave son, and do not mistake the nature ofmy last wish. Do not allow the perhaps too forcible word I have used, to hurry you into any personal revenge on Edward. Let him live to feeland to regret the outrages he has committed on the peace and honor ofhis too faithful friend. Pierce him on the side of his ambition, therehe is vulnerable, and there you will heal while you wound. This wouldbe my revenge, dear Robert, that you should one day have his life inyour power, and in memory of what I now say, spare it. When I am gone, think not of private resentment. Let your aim be the recovery of thekingdom, which Edward rifled from your fathers. Join the virtuous andtriumphant Wallace. Tell him of my remorse, of my fate, and be guidedwholly by his counsels. To insure the success of this enterprise, myson--a success to which I look as to the only means of redeeming thename I have lost, and of inspiring my separated spirit with courage tomeet the freeborn souls of my ancestors--urge not your own destructionby any premature disclosure of your resolutions. For my sake and foryour country's, suppress your resentment, threaten not the King ofEngland, provoke not the unworthy Scottish lords who have gained hisear; but bury all in your own bosom till you can join Wallace. Then, by his arm, and your own, seat yourself firmly on the throne of yourfathers. That moment will sufficiently avenge me on Edward!--and inthat moment, Robert! or at least as soon as circumstances can allow, let the English ground which will then hold my body, give up its dead!Remove me to a Scottish grave, and, standing over my ashes, proclaim tothem who might have been my people, that for every evil I suffered tofall on Scotland, I have since felt answering pangs, and that dying, Ibeg their forgiveness, and bequeath them my best blessing-my virtuousson, to reign in my stead!"

These injunctions to assert his own honor and that of his father, werereadily sworn to by Bruce; but he could not so easily be made to quellthe imperious indignation which was precipitating him to an immediateand loud revenge. The dying earl trembled before the overwhelmingpassion of his son's wrath and grief. Treated with outrage andcontumely, he saw his father stricken to the earth before him, and hecould not bear to hear any temporizing with his murderers. But allthis tempest of the soul the wisdom-inspired arguments of the earl atlast becalmed, but could not subdue. He convinced his son's reason byshowing him that caution would insure the blow, and that his aim couldonly be effected by remaining silent till he could publish his father'shonor, evidenced by his own heroism. "Do this, " added Carrick, "and Ishall live fair in the memories of men. But be violent, threatenEdward from these walls, menace the wretches who have trodden on thegray hairs of their prince, and your voice will be heard no more; thisground will drink your blood, and blindly judging infamy will foreverafter point to our obscure graves!"

Such persuasives at last prevailed with Bruce, and next day, writingthe hasty lines which Wallace received at Falkirk, he intrusted them tohis senachie, who conveyed them to Scotland by means of the shepherdyouth. 

Shortly after the dispatch of this letter, the presage of Lord Carrickwas verified; he was seized in the night with spasms, and died in thearms of his son. 

When Bruce related these particulars, his grief and indignation becameso violent, that Wallace was obliged to enforce the dying injunctionsof the father he thus vehemently deplored, to moderate the delirium ofhis soul. "Ah!" exclaimed the young earl, "I have indeed needed somefriend to save me from myself, some one to reconcile me to the RobertBruce who had so long slept in the fatal delusions which poisoned hisfather and laid him low! Oh! Wallace! at times I am mad. I know notwhether this forbearance be not cowardice. I doubt whether my fathermeant what he spoke, that he did not yet seek to preserve the life ofhis son at the expense of his honor, and I have been ready toprecipitate myself on the steel of Edward, so that he should but meetthe point of mine!"

Bruce then added, that in his more rational meditations, he hadresolved to attempt an escape in the course of a few days. Heunderstood that a deputation of English barons, seeking a ratificationof their charter, were soon to arrive in Durham; the bustle attendanton their business would, he hoped, draw attention from him, and affordhim the opportunity he sought. "In that case, " continued he, "I shouldhave made directly to Stirling, and had not Providence conducted you tome, I might have unconsciously thrown myself into the midst of enemies. James Cummin is too ambitious to have allowed my life to passunattempted. "

Whilst he was yet speaking, the door of the chamber burst open, andBruce's two attendants rushed into the room with looks aghast. Bruceand Wallace started on their feet and laid their hands on their swords. But instead of anything hostile appearing behind the servants, theinebriated figure of the senachie staggered forward. The men, hardlyawake, stood staring and trembling, and looking from the senachie toWallace; at last one, extricating his terror-struck tongue, and fallingon his knees, exclaimed: "Blessed St. Andrew! here is the senachie andhis wraith. " Bruce perceived the mistake of his servants, andexplaining to them that a traveling minstrel had obliged the senachieby performing his duty, he bade them retire to rest, and think no moreof their alarm. The intoxicated bard threw himself without ceremony onhis pallet in the recess, and the servants, though convinced, stillshaking with superstitious fright, entreated permission to bring theirheather beds into their lord's chamber. To deny them was impossible, and all further converse with Wallace that night being put an end to, acouch was laid for him in an interior apartment, and with a gratefulpressure of the hands, in which their hearts silently embraced, thechiefs separated to repose. 

Chapter LVIII. 

The Bishop's Palace. 

The second matin bell sounded from the abbey before the eyes of Wallaceopened from the deep sleep which had sealed them. A bath refreshed himfrom every toil, then renewing the stain on his face and hands with thejuice of a nut which he carried about him, and once more covering hismartial figure and golden hair with the minstrel's cassock and cowl, herejoined his friend. 

Bruce had previously affected to consider the senachie as stilldisordered by his last night's excess, and ordering him from hispresence for at least a day, commanded that the traveling minstrelshould be summoned to supply his place. 

The table was spread when Wallace entered, and several servants were inattendance. Bruce hastily rose and would have embraced him, so did hiscomforted heart spring to meet his friend; but before these people itwould have been more than imprudent, and hailing him with only one ofhis love-beaming looks, he made a sign to him to take his place at aboard near his own. To prevent suspicioin in the attendants (some ofwhom might be spies of Edward's), during the repast he discoursed withWallace on subjects relative to northern literature, repeating manypassages apposite to his own heroic sentiments, from Ossian and otherScottish bards. 

The meal finished, Wallace, to maintain his assumed character while theservants were removing the table, was tuning his harp when the Earl ofGloucester entered the room. The earl told Bruce the king had requiredthe attendance of the border minstrel, and that after searching overthe castle, the royal seneschal had at last discovered he was in thekeep with him. On this being intimated to Gloucester, he chose ratherto come himself to demand the harper from his friend, than to subjecthim to the insolence of the royal servants. The king desired to hear"The Triumph, " with which the minstrel had so much pleased the queen. Bruce turned pale at this message; and was opening his mouth to utter adenial, when Wallace, who read in his countenance what he was going tosay, and aware of the consequences, immediately spoke:

"If my lord Bruce will grant permission, I should wish to comply withthe King of England's request. "

"Minstrel!" replied Bruce, casting on him a powerful expression of whatwas passing in his mind, "you know not, perhaps that the King ofEngland is at enmity with me, and cannot mean well to any one who hasbeen my guest, or servant! The Earl of Gloucester will excuse yourattendance in the presence. "

"Not for my life or the minstrel's!" replied the earl; "the king wouldsuspect some mystery, and this innocent man might fall into peril. Butas it is, his majesty merely wishes to hear him play and sing, and Ipledge myself he shall return in safety. "

Further opposition would only have courted danger, and with as good agrace as he could assume, Bruce gave his consent. A page who followedGloucester took up the harp, and with a glance at his friend, whichspoke the fearless mind with which he ventured into the power of hisenemy, Wallace accompanied Gloucester out of the room. 

The earl moved swiftly forward, and leading him through a double lineof guards, the folding-doors of the royal apartment were thrown open bytwo knights in waiting, and Wallace found himself in the royalpresence. Perforated with wounds which the chief's own hand had givenhim, the king lay upon a couch overhung with a crimson-velvet canopy, with long golden fringes which swept the floor. His crown stood on acushion at his head, and his queen, the blooming Margaret of France, sat full of smiles at his feet. The young Countess of Gloucesteroccupied a seat by her side. 

The countess, who from indisposition had not been at court thepreceding day, fixed her eyes on the minstrel as he advanced into themiddle of the room, where the page, by Gloucester's orders, planted theharp. She observed the manner of his obeisance to the king and queen, and to herself, and the queen whispering her with a smile, said, whilehe was taking his station at the harp, "Have your British troubadoursusually such an air as that? Am I right, or am I wrong?"

"Quite right, " replied the countess in as low a voice; "I suppose hehas sung of kings and heroes till he cannot help assuming their stepand demeanor!"

"But how did he come by those eyes?" answered the queen. "If singingof Reuther's 'beamy gaze' have so richly endowed his own, by gettinghim to teach me his art, I may warble myself into a complexion as fairas any northern beauty!"

"But then his must not be the subject of your song, " whispered thecountess with a laugh, "for methinks it is rather of the Ethiop hue!"

During this short dialogue, which was heard by none but the two ladies, Edward was speaking with Gloucester, and Wallace leaned upon his harp. 

"That is enough, " said the king to his son-in-law; "now let me hear himplay. "

The earl gave the word, and Wallace, striking the chords with themaster hand of genius, called forth such strains and uttered such tonesfrom his full and richly-modulated voice, that the king listened withwonder, and the queen and countess scarcely allowed themselves tobreathe. He sung the parting of Reuther and his bride, and their soulsseemed to pant upon his notes; he changed his measure, and their bosomsheaved with the enthusiasm which spoke from his lips and hand, for heurged the hero to battle, he described the conflict, he mourned theslain, he sung the glorious triumph; as the last sweep of the harprolled its lofty diapason on the ear of the king, the monarch deignedto pronounce him unequaled in his art. Excess of delight so agitatedthe more delicate frames of the ladies, that while they poured theirencomiums on the minstrel, they wiped the glistening tears form theircheeks. The queen approached him, laid her hand upon the harp, andtouching the strings with a light finger, said with a sweet smile, "Youmust remain with the king's musicians, and teach me how to charm as youdo!" Wallace replied to this innocent speech with a smile sweet as herown, and bowed. 

The countess drew near. Though not much older than the youthful queen, she had been married twice, and being therefore more acquainted withthe proprieties of life, her compliments were uttered in a form morebefitting her rank, and the supposed quality of the man to whom thequeen continued to pour forth her less considerate praises. 

Edward desired Gloucester to bring the minstrel closer to him. Wallaceapproached the royal couch. Edward looked at him from head to footbefore he spoke. Wallace bore his eagle gaze with an undisturbedcountenance; he neither withdrew his eye from the king, nor did heallow a conqueror's fire to emit from its glance. 

"Who are you?" at length demanded Edward, who, surprised at the noblemien and unabashed carriage of the minstrel, conceived some suspicionsof his quality. 

Wallace saw what was passing in the king's mind, and determining by afrank reply to uproot his doubts, mildly but fearlessly answered:

"A Scot. "

"Indeed!" said the king, satisfied that no incendiary would dare thusto proclaim himself. "And how durst you, being of that outlawednation, venture into my court? Feared you not to fall a sacrifice tomy indignation against the mad leader of your rebellious countrymen?"

"I fear nothing on earth, " replied Wallace. "This garb is privileged, none who respect that sacred law dare commit violence on a minstrel, and against them who regard no law but that of their own wills, I havethis weapon to defend me. " As Wallace spoke he pointed to a dirk stuckin his girdle. 

"You are a bold man, and an honest man, I believe, " replied the king;"and as my queen desires it, I order your enrollment in my travelingtrain of musicians. You may leave the presence. "

"Then follow me to my apartment, " cried the queen; "countess, you willaccompany me, to see me take my first lesson. "

A page took up the harp; and Wallace, bowing his head to the king, wasconducted by Gloucester to the anteroom of the queen's apartments. Theearl there told him, that when dismissed by the queen, a page he wouldleave would show him the way back to Lord Carrick. 

The royal Margaret herself opened the door, so eager was she to admither teacher; and placing herself at the harp, she attempted a passageof "The Triumph, " which had particularly struck her, but she playedwrong. Wallace was asked to set her right; he obeyed. She wasquick--he clear in his explanations; and in less than half an hour hemade her execute the whole movement in a manner that delighted her. 

"Why, minstrel, " cried she, looking up in his face, "either your harpis enchanted, or you are a magician. I have studied three long yearsto play the lute, and could never bring forth any tone that did notmake me ready to stop my own ears. And now, countess, " cried she, again touching a few chords, "did you ever hear anything so enchanting?"

"I suppose, " returned the countess, "all your former instructors havebeen novices, and this Scot alone knows the art to which theypretended. "

"Do you hear what the countess says?" exclaimed the queen, affecting towhisper to him; "she will not allow of any spiritual agency in mywonderfully-awakened talent. If you can contradict her, do; for I wantvery much to believe in fairies, magicians, and all the enchantingworld!"

Wallace, with a respectful smile, answered, "I know of now spirit thathas interposed in your majesty's favor but that of your own genius; andit is more efficient than the agency of all fairy-land. "

The queen looked at him very gravely, and said, "If you really thinkthere are no such things as fairies and enchantments, for so your wordswould imply, then everybody in your country must have genius, for theyseem to be excellent in everything. Your warriors are so peerlesslybrave--all, excepting these Scottish lords who are such favorites withthe king! I wonder what he can see in their uncouth faces, or find intheir rough indelicate conversation to admire. If it had not been fortheir besetting my gracious Edward, I am sure he never would havesuspected ill of the noble Bruce!"

"Queen Margaret!" cried the Countess of Gloucester, giving her a lookof respectful reprehension; "had not the minstrel better retire?"

The queen blushed, and recollected that she was giving too free a ventto her sentiments; but she could not suffer Wallace to withdraw. 

"I have yet to ask you, " resumed she--"the warriors of Scotland beingso resistless, and their minstrels so perfect in their art--whether allthe ladies can be so beautiful as the Lady Helen Mar?"

The eagerness with which Wallace grasped at any tidings of her who wasso prime an object of his enterprise at once disturbed the composure ofhis air, and had the penetrating eyes of the countess been thendirected toward him, she might have drawn some dangerous conclusionsfrom the start he gave at the mention of her name, and from theheightened color which, in spite of his exertions to suppress allevident emotion, maintained its station on his cheek. 

"But, perhaps you have never seen her?" added the queen. 

Wallace replied, neither denying nor affirming her question: "I haveheard many praise her beauty, but more her virtues. "

"Well, I am sorry, " continued her majesty, "since you sing so sweetlyof female charms, that you have not seen this wonder of Scottishladies. You have now little chance of that good fortune, for Earl deValence has taken her abroad, intending to marry her amidst all thestate with which my lord has invested him. "

"Is it to Guienne he has taken her?" inquired Wallace. 

"Yes, " replied the queen, rather pleased than offended at theminstrel's ignorance of court ceremony in thus familiarly presuming toput a question to her. She continued to answer: "While so nearScotland he could not win her to forget her native country and herfather's danger, who it seems was dying when De Valence carried heraway. And, to prevent bloodshed between the earl and Soulis, who isalso madly in love with her, my ever-gracious Edward gave the Englishlord a high post in Guienne, and thither they are gone. "

Before Wallace could reply to some remark which the queen laughinglyadded to her information, the countess thought it proper to give hergay mother-in-law a more decisive reminder of decorum, and, rising, shewhispered something which covered the youthful Margaret in blushes. Her majesty rose directly, and pushing away the harp, hurryingly said:"You may leave the room;" and turning her back to Wallace, walked awaythrough an opposite door. 

Chapter LIX. 

The Round Tower. 

Wallace was yet recounting the particulars of his royal visit to Bruce(who had anxiously watched his return), when one of the queen'sattendants appeared; and presenting him with a silk handkerchiefcuriously coiled up, said, that he brought it from her majesty; whosupposed it must be his, as she found it in the room where he had beenplaying the harp. Wallace was going to say that it did not belong tohim, when Bruce gave him a look which directed him to take thehandkerchief. He obeyed, without a word, and the boy withdrew. 

Bruce smiled. "There is more in that handkerchief than silk, myfriend! Queens send not these embassies on trifling errands. " WhileBruce spoke, Wallace unwrapped it. "I told you so!" cried the prince, with a frank archness playing over his before pensive features, andpointing to a slip of emblazoned vellum, which became unfolded. "ShallI look aside while you peruse it?"

"Look on it, my dear prince, " replied Wallace; "for in trifles, as wellas in things of moment, I would hold no reserves with you. "

The vellum was then opened, and these words presented themselves:

"Presume not on condescension. This injunction may be necessary forthe noble lady who was present at our interview tells me the men ofthis island are very presuming. Redeem the character of yourcountrymen, and transgress not on a courtesy that only means to say, Idid not leave you this morning so abruptly out of unkindness. I writethis, because having the countess ever with me, I shall not even dareto whisper it in her presence. Be always faithful, and respectful, minstrel, and you shall ever find an indulgent mistress. 

"A page will call you when your attendance is desired. "

Wallace and Bruce looked on each other. Bruce first spoke. 

"Had you vanity, my friend, this letter, from so lovely and innocent acreature, might be a gratification; but in your case, the sentiment itbreathes is full of danger. She knows not the secret power thatimpelled her to write this, but we do; and I fear it will point anattention to you which may produce effects ruinous to our projects. "

"Then, " answered Wallace, "our alternative is to escape it by gettingaway this very night. And, as you persevere in your resolution not toenter Scotland unaccompanied by me, and will share my attempt to rescueLady Helen Mar, we must direct our course immediately to the Continent. "

"Yes, instantly, and securely, too, under the disguise of priests!"returned Bruce. "I have in my possession the wardrobe of the confessorwho followed my father's fortunes, and who, on his death, retired intothe abbey which contains his remains. "

It was then settled between the friends, that when it became dark theyshould dress themselves in the confessor's robes, and by means of thequeen's signet, which she had given to Wallace at the banquet, pass theguard as priests who had entered by some other gate, and were returnedfrom shriving her majesty. Once without the city, they could make aswift progress southward to the nearest seaport, and there safelyembark for France; for they were well aware that the moment they weremissed suspicion would direct pursuit toward the Scottish border. 

In these arrangements, and planning their future movements relative tothe rescue of Lady Helen, they passed several hours, and were onlyinterrupted by the arrival of a lute from the queen for her minstrel totune. Wallace obeyed; and returning it by the page who brought it, congratulated himself that it was not accompanied by any new summons. Then continuing his discourse with Bruce on the past, present, and tocome, their souls grew more closely entwined as they more intimatelyrecognized their kindred natures; and time moved on, unmarked, till theshadows of evening deepened into night. 

"Now is our hour, " cried Bruce, starting on his feet; "go you into thatroom, and array yourself in the confessor's robes, while I call myservants to dispense with their usual nightly attendance. "

With determination and hope, Wallace gladly obeyed. In that very sameinstant the Earl of Gloucester suddenly entered; and, looking round theroom with a disturbed countenance, abruptly said:

"Where is the minstrel?"

"Why?" answered Bruce, with an alarm which he vainly tried to preventappearing on his face. Gloucester advanced close to him. 

"Is any one within hearing?"

"No one. "

"Then, " replied the earl, "his life is in danger. He is suspected tobe not what he seems; and I am sorry to add, to stand in favor with thequeen, of a nature to incur his mortal punishment. "

Bruce was so confounded with this stoppage of all their plans, and atthe imminent peril of Wallace, that he could not speak. Gloucesterproceeded:

"My dear Bruce, from the circumstance of his being with you, I cannotbut suppose that you know more than you think proper to disclose. Whoever he may be, whether he came from France, or really fromScotland, as he says, his life is now forfeited. And that, byattempting to screen him, you may not seem to share his imputed guilt, I come to warn you of this discovery. A double guard is set around thekeep; so no visible means are left for his escape. "

"Then what will become of him?" exclaimed Bruce, forgetting all cautionin dismay for his friend. "Am I to see the bravest of men, the saviorof my country, butchered before my eyes by a tyrant? I may die, Gloucester, in his defense, but I will never surrender him to hisenemy!"

Gloucester stood aghast at this disclosure. He came to accuse thefriend of Bruce, that Bruce might be prepared to clear himself ofconnivance with so treasonable a crime; but now that he found thisfriend to be Wallace, the preserver of his own life, the restorer ofhis honor at Berwick, he immediately resolved to give him freedom. 

"Bruce, " cried he, "when I recollect the figure and deportment of thisminstrel, I am surprised that, in despite of his disguise, I did notrecognize the invincible Regent of Scotland; but now I know him, heshall find that generosity is not confined to his own breast. Give meyour word that you will not stimulate suspicion by remonstrating withEdward against your own arrest till the court leaves Durham, and I willinstantly find a way to conduct your friend in safety from the castle. "

"I pledge you my word of honor, " cried Bruce; "release but him, and, ifyou demand it of me, I would die in chains. "

"He saved me at Berwick, " replied Gloucester, "and I am anxious torepay the debt. If he be near, explain what has happened in as fewwords as possible, for we must not delay a moment. I left a councilwith the enraged king, settling what horrible death was to be hispunishment. "

"When he is safe, " answered Bruce, "I will attest his innocence to you;meanwhile, rely on my faith, that you are giving liberty to a guiltlessman. "

Bruce hastened to Wallace, who had just completed his disguise. Hebriefly related what had passed, and received for answer, that he wouldnot leave his prince to the revenge of the tyrant. But Bruce, urgingthat the escape of the one could alone secure that of the other, implored him not to persist in refusing his offered safety, but to makedirect for Normandy. 

"I will join you at Rouen; and thence we can proceed to Guienne, " addedhe. "The hour the court leaves Durham is that of my escape; and whenfree, what shall divide me from you and our enterprise!"

Wallace had hardly assented, when a tumultuous noise broke the silenceof the courtyard; the great iron doors of the keep were thrown back ontheir hinges, and the clangor of arms, with many voices, resounded inthe hall. Thinking all was lost, with a cry of despair, Bruce drew hissword, and threw himself before his friend. At that instant Gloucesterentered the room. "They are quicker than I thought!" cried he; "butfollow me. Bruce, remain where you are: sheathe your sword--be bold;deny you know anything of the minstrel, and all will be well. " As hespoke, the feet of them who were come to seize Wallace already soundedin the adjoining apartment. Gloucester grasped the Scottish hero bythe hand, turned into a short gallery, and, plucking the broad shaft ofa cedar pilaster from under its capital, let himself and his companioninto a passage within the wall of the building. The ponderous beamclosed after them into its former situation; and the silent pairdescended, by a long flight of stone steps, to a square dungeon withoutany visible outlet; but the earl found one, by raising a flat stonemarked by an elevated cross; and again they penetrated lower into thebosom of the earth by a gradually declining path till they stopped on asubterranean level ground. "This vaulted passage, " said Gloucester, "reaches, in a direct line, to Fincklay Abbey. ** A particularcircumstance constrained my uncle, the then abbot of that monastery, todiscover it to me, ten years ago. He told me, that to none but thebishops of Durham and the abbots of Fincklay was the secret of itsexistence revealed. Since my coming hither this time (which was toescort the young queen--not to bear arms against Scotland), I one daytook it into my head to revisit this recess; and, happily for thegratitude I owe to you, I found all as I had left it in my uncle'slifetime. But, for the sake of my honor with Edward, whose wrath wouldfall upon me in most fearful shapes should he ever know that Idelivered his vanquisher out of his hands, I must enjoin you tosecrecy. Though the enemy of my king's ambition, you are the friend ofmankind. You were my benefactor, noble Wallace; and I should deservethe rack, could I suffer one hair of your head to fall with violence tothe ground. "

**The remains of this curious subterranean passage are yet to be seen;but parts of them are now broken in upon by water, and therefore thecommunication between Durham and Fincklay is now cut off. 

With answering frankness, Wallace declared his sense of the earl'sgenerosity; and earnestly commended the young Bruce to his watchfulfriendship. "The brave impetuosity of his mind, " continued he, "attimes may overthrow his prudence, and leave him exposed to dangerswhich a little virtuous caution might avoid. Dissimulation is abaseness I should shudder at seeing him practice; but when the flood ofindignation swells his bosom, then tell him, that I conjure him, on thelife of his dearest wishes, to be silent! The storm which threatensmust blow over, and the power which guides through perils those whotrust in it, will ordain that we shall meet again!"

Gloucester replied, "What you say I will repeat to Bruce. I am toosensible that my royal father-in-law has trampled on his rights; andshould I ever see him restored to the throne of his ancestors, I couldnot but acknowledge the hand of Heaven in the event. Far would it havebeen from me to have bound him to remain a prisoner during Edward'ssojourn at Durham, had I not been certain that your escape and histogether would now give birth to a plausible argument in the minds ofmy enemies; and, grounding their suspicions on my acknowledgedattachment to Bruce, the king might have been persuaded to believe meunfaithful to his interests. The result would be my disgrace, and abroken heart to her who has raised me by her generous love from thehumbler ranks of nobility to that of a prince, and her husband. "

Gloucester then informed Wallace that about two hours before he came toalarm Bruce for his safety on this occasion, he was summoned by Edwardto attend him immediately. When he obeyed, he found Soulis standing bythe royal couch, and his majesty talking with vehemence. At sight ofGloucester he beckoned him to advance, and striking his hand fiercelyon a letter he held, he exclaimed:

"Here, my son, behold the record of your father's shame!--of a King ofEngland dishonored by a slave!"

As he spoke he dashed it from him. Soulis answered, smiling:

"Not a slave, my lord and king! can you not see, through the illadapted disguise, the figure and mien of nobility? He is some foreignlover of your bride, come--"

"Enough!" interrupted the king; "I know I am dishonored; but thevillain shall die. Read the letter, Gloucester, and say what torturesshall stamp my vengeance!"

Gloucester opened the vellum, and read, in the queen's hand:

"Gentle minstrel! my lady countess tells me I must not see you again. Were you old or ugly, as most bards are, I might, she says; but beingyoung, it is not for a queen to smile upon one of your calling. Shebade me remember, that when I smiled, you smiled too; and that youasked me questions unbecoming your degree. Pray do not do this anymore; though I see no harm in it; alas! I used to smile as I liked whenI was in France. Oh, if it were not for those I love best, who are nowin England, I wish I were there again! and you would go with me, gentleminstrel, would you not? And you would teach me to sing so sweetly! Iwould then never talk with you, but would always speak in song; howpretty that would be! and then we should be from under the eyes of thisharsh countess. My ladies in France would let you come in and stay aslong with me as I pleased. But as I cannot go back again, I will makemyself happy here in spite of the countess, who rules me more as if shewere my stepmother than I hers; but then to be sure she is a few yearsolder. 

"I will see you this evening, and your sweet harp shall sing all myheart-aches to sleep. My French lady of honor will conduct yousecretly to my apartments. I am sure you are too honest even to guessat what the countess thinks you might fancy when I smile on you. But, gentle minstrel, presume not, and you shall ever find an indulgentmistress in M--

"P. S. At the last vespers to-night, my page shall come for you. "

Gloucester knew the queen's handwriting; and not being able tocontradict that this letter was hers, he inquired how it came into hismajesty's hands. 

"I found it, " replied Soulis, "in crossing the courtyard; it lay on theground, where, doubtless, it had been accidentally dropped by thequeen's messenger. "

Gloucester, wishing to extenuate for the queen's sake, whose youth andinexperience he pitied, affirmed that, from the simplicity with whichthe note was written, from her innocent references to the minstrel'sprofession, he could not suppose that she addressed him in any othercharacter. 

"If he be only a base itinerant harper, " replied the king, "the deeperis my disgrace; for, if a passion of another king than music be notportrayed in every word of this artful letter, I never read a woman'sheart!"

The king continued to comment on the fatal scroll with the lynx-eye ofjealousy, loading her name with every opprobrium. Gloucester inwardlythanked Heaven that none other than Soulis and himself were present tohear Edward fasten such foul dishonor on his queen. The generous earlcould not find other arguments to assuage the mountain ire of herhusband. She might be innocent of actual guilt, or indeed of beingaware of more than a queen's usual interest in a poor wanderingminstrel was, as the king said, in every line. Gloucester remainingsilent, Edward believed him convinced of the queen's crime; and beingtoo wrathful to think of caution, he sent for the bishop and others ofhis lords, and when they entered, vented to them also his injury andindignation. Many were not inclined to be of the same opinion withtheir sovereign; some thought with Gloucester, others deemed the letteraltogether a forgery; and a few adopted the severer inferences of herhusband; but all united (even those determined to spare the queen) inrecommending an immediate apprehension and private execution of theminstrel. 

"It is not fit, " cried Soulis, "that a man who has ever been suspectedof invading our monarch's honor, should live another hour. "

This sanguinary sentence was acceded to, and with as little remorse bythe whole assembly as if they had merely condemned a tree to the ax. Such is the carelessness with which the generality of arbitraryassemblies decide on the fate of a fellow mortal! Earl Percy, who gavehis vote for the death of the minstrel more from this culpableinconsideration than that thirst of blood which stimulated the voicesof Soulis and the Cummins, proposed--as he believed the queeninnocent--that honor should be examined relative to the circumstancesmentioned in the letter. 

The king immediately ordered their attendance. 

The royal Jane of Acre appeared at the first summons, and spoke with anair of truth and freedom from alarm which convinced every candid ear ofthe innocence of the queen. Her testimony was, that she believed theminstrel to be other than he seemed; but she was certain, from theconversations which the queen had held with her after the bishop'sfeast, that it was at this very feast she had first seen him, and thatshe was ignorant of his real rank. On being questioned by the bishop, the countess acknowledged that her majesty had praised his figure aswell as his singing; "yet not more, " added she, "than she afterward didto the king when she awakened his curiosity to send for him. " Herhighness continued to reply to the interrogatories put to her, bysaying, that it was in the king's presence she herself first saw theminstrel; and then she thought his demeanor much above his situation;but, when he accompanied the queen and herself into her majesty'sapartments, she had then an opportunity to observe him narrowly, as thequeen engaged him in conversation; and by his answers, questions, andeasy, yet respectful deportment, she became convinced he was not whathe appeared. 

"And why, Jane, " asked the king, "did you not impart these suspicionsto your husband or to me?"

"Because, " replied she, "remembering that my interference on a certainpublic occasion brought my late husband, Clare, under your majesty'sdispleasure; on my marriage with Monthermer, I made a solemn vow beforemy confessor never to offend in the like manner. And besides, thecountenance of this stranger was so ingenious, and his sentiments sonatural and honorable, I could not suspect he came on any disloyalerrand. "

"Lady, " observed one of the elder lords, "if you thought so well of thequeen and of this man, why did you caution her against his smiles, anddeem it necessary to persuade her not to see him again?"

The countess blushed at this question, but replied, "Because I saw theminstrel was a gentleman. He possessed a noble figure, and a handsomeface in spite of his Egyptian skin. Like most young gentlemen, hemight be conscious of these advantages, and attribute the artlessapprobation, the innocent smiles of my gracious queen, to a source moreflattering to his vanity. I have known many lords, not far from yourmajesty, make similar mistakes on as little grounds, " added she, looking disdainfully toward some of the younger nobles; "and, therefore, to prevent such insolence, I desired his final dismission. "

"Thank you, my dear Jane, " replied the king; "you almost persuade me ofMargaret's innocence. "

"Believe it, sire!" cried she with animation; "whatever romanticthoughtlessness her youth and inexperience may have led her into, Ipledge my life on her purity. "

"First, let us hear what that French woman has to say to theassignation, " exclaimed Soulis, whose polluted heart could not supposethe existence of true purity, and whose cruel disposition exulted intorturing and death; "question her, and then her majesty may have fullacquittal. "

Again the brow of Edward was overcast. The fiends of jealously oncemore tugged at his heart; and ordering the Countess of Gloucester towithdraw he commanded the Baroness de Pontoise to be brought into hispresence. 

When she saw the king's threatening looks, and beheld the fearfulexpression which shot from every surrounding countenance, she shrunkwith terror. Long backneyed in secret gallantries, the same inwardwhisper which had proclaimed to Soulis that the queen was guilty, induced her to believe that she had been the confidante of an illicitpassion; and therefore, though she knew nothing really bad of herunhappy mistress, yet, fancying that she did, she stood before theroyal tribunal with the air and aspect of a culprit. 

"Repeat to me, " demanded the king, "or answer it with your head, allthat you know of Queen Margaret's intimacy with the man who callshimself a minstrel. "

At these words, which were delivered in a tone that seemed the sentenceof death, the French woman fell on her knees, and in a burst of terrorexclaimed, "Sire, I will reveal all if your majesty will grant mepardon for having too faithfully served my mistress!"

"Speak! speak!" cried the king, with desperate impatience. "I swear topardon you, even if you have joined in a conspiracy against my life;but speak the truth, and all the truth, that judgment, without mercy, may fall on the guilty heads!"

"Then I obey, " answered the baroness. 

"Foul betrayer!" half-exclaimed Gloucester, turning disappointed away. "O! what it is to be vile, and to trust the vile! But virtue will notbe auxiliary to vice--and so wickedness falls by its own agents. "

The baroness, raised from her kneeling position by Soulis, began:

"The only time I ever heard of, or saw this man, to my knowledge, waswhen he was brought to play before my lady at the bishop's banquet. Idid not much observe him, being engaged in conversation at the otherend of the room; so I cannot say, whether I might not have seen him inFrance; for many noble lords adored the Princess Margaret, though sheappeared to frown upon them all. But I must confess, when I attendedher majesty's disrobing after the feast, she put to me so manyquestions about what I thought of the minstrel who had sung sodivinely, that I began to think her admiration too great to have beenawakened by a mere song. And then she asked me, if a king could have anobler air than he had; and she laughed, and said she would send yourmajesty to school to learn of him. "

"Damnable traitress!" exclaimed the king. 

The baroness paused, and retreated before the sudden fury which flashedfrom his eyes. 

"Go on!" cried he; "hide neither word nor circumstance, that myvengeance may lose nothing of its aim!"

She proceeded:

"Her majesty then talked of his beautiful eyes; so blue, she said, sotender, yet proud in their looks; and only a minstrel! 'De Pontoise, 'added she, 'can you explain that?' I being rather, perhaps, too welllearned in the idle tales of our troubadours, heedlessly answered:'Perhaps he is some king in disguise, just come to look at yourmajesty's charms, and go away again!' She laughed much at thisconceit; said he must be one of Pharaoh's race then, and that had henot such white teeth, his complexion would be intolerable. Beingpleased to see her majesty in such spirits, and thinking no ill, Isportively answered, 'I read once of a certain Spanish lover, who wentto the court of Tunis to carry off the king's daughter; and he had soblack a face, that none suspected him to be other than the MoorishPrince of Granada; when lo! one day in a pleasure-party on the sea, hefell overboard, and came up with the fairest face in the world, andpresently acknowledged himself to be the Christian King of Castile. 'The queen laughed at this story, but not answering me, went to bed. Next morning, when I entered her chamber, she received me with evenmore gayety, and putting aside my coiffure, said, 'Let me see if I canfind the devil's mark here!' 'What do you mean?' I asked, 'does yourmajesty take me for a witch?' 'Exactly so, ' she replied; 'for a littlesprite told me last night that all you told me was true. ' And then shebegan to tell me with many smiles, that she had dreamed the minstrelwas the very Prince of Portugal, whom, unseen, she had refused for theKing of England; and that he gave her a harp set with jewels. She thenwent to your majesty, and I saw no more of her till she sent for melate in the evening. She seemed very angry. 'You are faithful, ' saidshe to me, 'and you know me. De Pontoise; you know me too proud todegrade myself, and too highminded to submit to tyranny. The Countessof Gloucester, with persuasions too like commands, will not allow me tosee the minstrel any more. ' She then declared her determination thatshe would see him; that she would feign herself sick, and he shouldcome and sing to her when she was alone; and that she was sure he wastoo modest to presume on her condescension. I said something todissuade her, but she overruled me; and, shame to myself, I consentedto assist her. She embraced me, and gave me a letter to convey to him, which I did, by slipping it beneath the ornaments of the handle of herlute, which I sent as an excuse for the minstrel to tune. It was toacquaint him with her intentions, and this night he was to have visitedher apartment!"

During this recital the king sat with compressed lips listening, butwith a countenance proclaiming the collecting tempest within--changingto livid paleness or portentous fire, at almost every sentence. Onmentioning the letter, he clinched his hand, as if then he grasped thethunderbolt. The lords immediately apprehended that this was theletter which Soulis found. 

"And is this all you know of the affair?" inquired Percy, seeing thatshe made a pause. "And enough, too?" cried Soulis, "to blast the mostvaunted chastity in Christendom. "

"Take the woman hence, " cried the king, in a burst of wrath, that gavehis voice a preternatural force, which yet resounded from the vaultedroof, while he added--"Never let me see her traitor face again!" Thebaroness withdrew in terror; and Edward, calling Sir Piers Gaveston, commanded him to place himself at the head of a double guard, and go inperson to bring the object of his officious introduction to meet thepunishment due to his crime. "For, " cried the king, "be he prince orpeasant, I will see him hanged before my eyes, and then return hiswanton paramour, branded with infamy, to her disgraced family!"

Soulis now suggested that, as the delinquent was to be found withBruce, most likely that young nobleman was privy to his designs. "Weshall see to him hereafter, " replied the king; "meanwhile, look that Iam obeyed. "

The moment this order passed the king's lips, Gloucester, now notdoubting the queen's guilt, hastened to warn Bruce of what hadoccurred, that he might separate himself from the crime of a man whoappeared to have been under his protection. But when he found that theaccused was no other than the universally feared, universally beloved, and generous Wallace, all other considerations were lost in the desireof delivering him from the impending danger. He knew the means, and hedid not hesitate to employ them. 

During the recital of this narrative, Gloucester narrowly observed theauditor, and the ingenuous bursts of his indignation, and the horror heevinced at the crime he was suspected of having committed, the earl, while more fully convinced of his innocence, easily conceived how thequeen's sentiments for him might have gone no further than a childishadmiration, very pardonable in a guileless creature hardly more thansixteen. 

"See, " cried Wallace, "the power which lies with the describer ofactions! The chaste mind of your countess saw nothing in the conductof the queen but thoughtless simplicity. The contaminated heart of theBaroness de Pontoise descried passion in every word, wantonness inevery movement; and, judging of her mistress by herself, she haswrought this mighty ruin. How, then, does it behove virtue to admitthe virtuous only to her intimacy: association with the vicious makesher to be seen in their colors! Impress your king with thisself-evident conclusion; and were it not for endangering the safety ofBruce, the hope of my country, I myself would return and stake my lifeon proving the innocence of the Queen of England. But if a letter, with my word of honor, could convince the king--"

"I accept the offer, " interrupted Gloucester, "I am too warmly thefriend of Bruce--too truly grateful to you--to betray either intodanger; but from Sunderland, whither I recommend you to go, and thereembark for France, write the declaration you mention, and inclose it tome. I can contrive that the king shall have your letter withoutsuspecting by what channel; and then, I trust, all will be well. "

During this discourse, they passed on through the vaulted passage, till, arriving at a wooden crucifix which marked the boundary of thedomain of Durham, Gloucester stopped. 

"I must not go further. Should I prolong my stay from the castleduring the search for you, suspicion may be awakened. You musttherefore proceed alone. Go straight forward, and at the extremity ofthe vault you will find a flag stone, surmounted like the one by whichwe descended; raise it, and it will let you into the cemetery of theAbbey of Fincklay. One end of that burying-place is always open to theeast. Thence you will emerge to the open world; and may it in future, noble Wallace, ever treat you according to your unequaled merits. Farewell!"

The earl turned to retrace his steps, and Wallace pursued his waythrough the rayless darkness toward the Fincklay extremity of thevault. 

Chapter LX. 

Gallic Seas. 

Wallace having issued from his subterranean journey, made direct toSunderland, where he arrived about sunrise. A vessel belonging toFrance (which, since the marriage of Margaret with Edward, had been inamity with England as well as Scotland) rode there, waiting a favorablewind. Wallace secured a passage in her; and, going on board, wrote hispromised letter to Edward. It ran thus:

"This testament is to assure Edward, King of England, upon the word ofa knight, that Queen Margaret, his wife, is in every respect guiltlessof the crimes alleged against her by the Lord Soulis, and sworn to bythe Baroness de Pontoise. I came to the court of Durham on an errandconnected with my country; and that I might be unknown, I assumed thedisguise of a minstrel. By accident I encountered Sir Piers Gaveston, and, ignorant that I was other than I seemed, he introduced me at theroyal banquet. It was there I first saw her majesty. And I never hadthat honor but three times; and the third and last in her apartments, to which your majesty's self saw me withdraw. The Countess ofGloucester was present the whole time, and to her highness I appeal. The queen saw in me only a minstrel; on my art alone as a musician washer favor bestowed; and by expressing it with an ingenuous warmth whichnone other than an innocent heart would have dared to display, she hasthus exposed herself to the animadversions of libertinism, and to thefalse representations of a terror-struck, because worthless, friend. 

"I have escaped the snare which the queen's enemies laid for me; andfor her sake, for the sake of truth, and your own peace, King Edward, Ideclare before the Searcher of all hearts, and before the world, inwhose esteem I hope to live and die--that your wife is innocent! Andshould I ever meet the man, who, after this declaration, dares to uniteher name with mine in a tale of infamy--by the power of truth, I swearthat I will make him write a recantation with his blood. Pure as avirgin's chastity is, and shall ever be, the honor of William Wallace. "

This letter was inclosed in one to the Earl of Gloucester, and havingdispatched his packet to Durham, the Scottish chief gladly saw a briskwind blow up from the north-west. The ship weighed anchor, cleared theharbor, and, under a fair sky, swiftly cut the waves toward the Gallicshores. But ere she reached them, the warlike star of Wallace directedto his little bark the terrific sails of the Red Reaver, a formidablepirate who then infested the Gallic seas, swept their commerce, andinsulted their navy. He attacked the French vessel, but it carried agreater than Caesar and his fortunes; Wallace and his destiny werethere, and the enemy struck to the Scottish chief. The Red Reaver (sosurnamed because of his red sails and sanguinary deeds) was killed inthe action; but his younger brother, Thomas de Longueville, was foundalive with in the captive ship, and a yet greater prize! Prince Louis, of France, who having been out the day before on a sailing-party, hadbeen descried, and seized as an invaluable booty by the Red Reaver. 

Adverse winds for some time prevented Wallace from reaching port withhis capture; but on the fourth day after the victory, he cast anchor inthe harbor of Havre. The indisposition of the prince from a wound hehad received in his own conflict with the Reaver, made it necessary toapprise King Philip of the accident. In answer to Wallace's dispatcheson this subject, the grateful monarch added to the proffers of personalfriendship, which had been the substance of his majesty's embassy toScotland, a pressing invitation that the Scottish chief would accompanythe prince to Paris, and there receive a public mark of royalgratitude, which, with due honor, should record this service done toFrance to future ages. Meanwhile Philip sent the chief a suit ofarmor, with a request that he would wear it in remembrance of Franceand his own heroism. But nothing could tempt Wallace to turn asidefrom his duty. Impatient to pursue his journey toward the spot wherehe hoped to meet Bruce, he wrote a respectful excuse to the king; butarraying himself in the monarch's martial present (to assure hismajesty by the evidence of his son that his royal wish had been so farobeyed), he went to the prince to bid him farewell. Louis waspreparing for their departure, all three together, with young DeLongueville (whose pardon Wallace had obtained from the king on accountof the youth's abhorrence of the service which his brother hadcompelled him to adopt), and the two young men, from differentfeelings, expressed their disappointment when they found that theirbenefactor was going to leave them. Wallace gave his highness a packetfor the king, containing a brief statement of his vow to Lord Mar, anda promise, that when he had fulfilled it, Philip should see him atParis. The royal cavalcade then separated from the deliverer of itsprince; and Wallace, mounting a richly-barbed Arabian, which hadaccompanied his splendid armor, took the road to Rouen. 

Meanwhile, events not less momentous took place at Durham. The instantWallace had followed the Earl of Gloucester from the apartment in thecastle, it was entered by Sir Piers Gaveston. He demanded theminstrel. Bruce replied, he knew not where he was. Gaveston, eager toconvince the king that he was no accomplice with the suspected person, put the question a second time, and in a tone which he meant shouldintimidate the Scottish prince--"Where is the minstrel?"

"I know not, " replied Bruce. 

"And will you dare to tell me, earl, " asked his interrogator, "thatwithin this quarter of an hour he has not been in this tower?--nay, inthis very room? The guards in your antechamber have told me that hewas; and can Lord Carrick stoop to utter a falsehood to screen anwandering beggar?"

While he was speaking, Bruce stood eying him with increasing scorn. Gaveston paused. 

"You expect me to answer you!" said the prince. "Out of respect tomyself I will, for such is the unsullied honor of Robert Bruce, thateven the air shall not be tainted with slander against his truth, without being repurified by its confutation. Gaveston, you have knownme five years; two of them we passed together in the jousts ofFlanders, and yet you believe me capable of falsehood! Know then, unworthy of the esteem I have bestowed on you, that neither to savemean or great, would I deviate from the strict line of truth. The manyou seek may have been in this tower, in this room, as you present are, and as little am I bound to know where he now is, as whither you gowhen you relieve me from an inquisition which I hold myself accountableto no man to answer. "

"'Tis well, " cried Gaveston; "and I am to carry this haughty message tothe king?"

"If you deliver it as a message, " answered Bruce, "you will prove thatthey who are ready to suspect falsehood, find its utterance easy. Myreply is to you. When King Edward speaks to me, I shall find theanswer that is due to him. "

"These attempts to provoke me into a private quarrel, " cried Gaveston, "will not succeed. I am not to be so foiled in my duty. I must seekthe man through your apartments. "

"By whose authority?" demanded Bruce. 

"By my own, as the loyal subject of my outraged monarch. He bade mebring the traitor before him; and thus I obey. "

While speaking, Gaveston beckoned to his attendants to follow him tothe door whence Wallace had disappeared. Bruce threw himself before it. 

"I must forget the duty I owe to myself, before I allow you, or anyother man, to invade my privacy. I have already given you the answerthat becomes Robert Bruce; and in respect to your knighthood, insteadof compelling I request you to withdraw. "

Gaveston hesitated; but he knew the determined character of hisopponent, and therefore, with no very good grace, muttering that heshould hear of it from a more powerful quarter, he left the room. 

And certainly his threats were not in this instance vain; for promptwas the arrival of a marshal and his officers to force Bruce before theking. 

"Robert Bruce, Earl of Cleveland, Carrick and Annandale, I come tosummon you into the presence of your liege lord, Edward of England. "

"The Earl of Cleveland obeys, " replied Bruce; and, with a fearlessstep, he walked out before the marshal. 

When he entered the presence-chamber, Sir Piers Gaveston stood besidethe royal couch, as if prepared to be his accuser. The king satsupported by pillows, paler with the mortifications of jealousy andbaffled authority than from the effects of his wounds. 

"Robert Bruce!" cried he, the moment his eyes fell on him; but thesight of his mourning habit made a stroke upon his heart that sent outevidence of remorse in large globules on his forehead; he paused, wipedhis face with his handkerchief, and resumed: "Are you not afraid, presumptuous young man, thus to provoke your sovereign? Are you notafraid that I shall make that audacious head answer for the man whomyou thus dare to screen from my just revenge?"

Bruce felt all the injuries he had suffered from this proud king rushat once upon his memory; and, without changing his position or loweringthe lofty expression of his looks, he firmly answered: "The judgment ofa just king I cannot fear; the sentence of an unjust one I despise. "

"This to his majesty's face!" exclaimed Soulis. 

"Insolence--rebellion--chastisement-even death!" were the words whichmurmured round the room at the honest reply. 

Edward had too much good sense to echo any one of them; but turning toBruce, with a sensation of shame he would gladly have repressed, hesaid that, in consideration of his youth, he would pardon him what hadpassed, and reinstate him in all the late Earl of Carrick's honors, ifhe would immediately declare where he had hidden the offending minstrel. 

"I have not hidden him, " cried Bruce; "nor do I know where he is; buthad that been confided to me, as I know him to be an innocent man, nopower on earth should have wrenched him from me!"

"Self-sufficient boy!" exclaimed Earl Buchan, with a laugh of contempt;"do you flatter yourself that he would trust such a novice as you arewith secrets of this nature?"

Bruce turned on him an eye of fire. 

"Buchan, " replied he, "I will answer you on other ground. Meanwhile, remember that the secrets of good men are open to every virtuous heart;those of the wicked they would be glad to conceal from themselves. "

"Robert Bruce, " cried the king, "before I came this northern journey Iever found you one of the most devoted of my servants, the gentlestyouth in my court; and how do I see you at this moment? Braving mynobles to my face! How is it that until now this spirit never brokeforth?"

"Because, " answered the prince, "until now I have never seen thevirtuous friend whom you call upon me to betray. "

"Then you confess, " cried the king, "that he was an instigator torebellion?"

"I avow, " answered Bruce, "that I never knew what true loyalty was tillhe taught it me; I never knew the nature of real chastity till heexplained it to me; nor comprehended what virtue might be till heallowed me to see in himself incorruptible fidelity, bravery undaunted, and a purity of heart not to be contaminated! And this is the man onwhom these lords would fasten a charge of treason and adultery! Butout of the filthy depths of their own breast arise the streams fromwhich they would blacked his fairness. "

"Your vindication, " cried the king, "confirms his guilt. You admitthat he is not a minstrel in reality. Wherefore, then, did he steal inambuscade into my palace, but to betray either my honor or mylife--perhaps both?"

"His errand here was to see me. "

"Rash boy!" cried Edward; "then you acknowledge yourself a premeditatedconspirator against me?"

Soulis now whispered in the king's ear, but so low that Bruce did nothear him. 

"Penetrate further, my liege; this may be only a false confession toshield the queen's character. She who has once betrayed her duty, finds it easy to reward such handsome advocates. "

The scarlet of inextinguishable wrath now burned on the face of Edward. "I will confront them, " returned he; "surprise them into betrayingeach other. "

By his immediate orders the queen was brought in. She leaned on theCountess of Gloucester. 

"Jane, " cried the king, "leave that woman; let her impudence sustainher. "

"Rather her innocence, my lord, " said the countess, bowing, andhesitating to go. 

"Leave her to that, " returned the incensed husband, "and she wouldgrovel on the earth like her own base passions. But stand before meshe shall, and without other support than the devils within her. "

"For pity!" cried the queen, extending her clasped hands toward Edward, and bursting into tears; "have mercy on me, for I am innocent!"

"Prove it then, " cried the king, "by agreeing with this confidant ofyour minstrel, and at once tell me by what name you addressed him whenyou allured him to my court? Is he French, Spanish, or English?"

"By the Virgin's holy purity, I swear!" cried the queen, sinking on herknees, "that I never allured him to this court; I never beheld him tillI saw him at the bishop's banquet; and for his name, I know it not. "

"Oh, vilest of the vile!" cried the king, fiercely grasping his couch;"and didst thou become a wanton at a glance? From my sight thismoment, or I shall blast thee!"

The queen dropped senseless into the arms of the Earl of Gloucester, who at that moment entered from seeing Wallace through the cavern. Atsight of him, Bruce knew that his friend was safe; and fearless forhimself when the cause of outraged innocence was at stake, he suddenlyexclaimed:

"By one word, King Edward, I will confirm the blamelessness of thisinjured queen. Listen to me, not as a monarch and an enemy, but withthe unbiased judgment of man with man; and then ask your own braveheart if it would be possible for Sir William Wallace to be a seducer. "

Every mouth was dumb at the enunciation of that name. None dared opena lip in accusation; and the king himself, thunderstruck alike with theboldness of the conqueror venturing within the grasp of his revenge andat the daringness of Bruce in thus declaring his connection with him, for a few minutes he knew not what to answer; only he had receivedconviction of his wife's innocence! He was too well acquainted withthe history and uniform conduct of Wallace to doubt his honor in thistransaction; and though a transient fancy of the queen's might have hadexistence, yet he had now no suspicion of her actions. "Bruce, " saidhe, "your honesty has saved the Queen of England. Though Wallace is myenemy, I know him to be of an integrity which neither man nor woman canshake; and therefore, " added he, turning to the lords, "I declarebefore all who have heard me so fiercely arraign my injured wife, thatI believe her innocent of every offense against me. And whoever, afterthis, mentions one word of what has passed in these investigations, oreven whispers that they have been held, shall be punished as guilty ofhigh treason. "

Bruce was then ordered to be reconducted to the round-tower; and therest of the lords withdrawing by command, the king was left withGloucester, his daughter Jane, and the now reviving queen to make hispeace with her, even on his knees. 

Burce was more closely immured than ever. Not even his senachie wasallowed to approach him; and double guards were kept constantly aroundhis prison. On the fourth day of his seclusion an extra row of ironbars was put across his windows. He asked the captain of the party thereason for this new rivet on his captivity; but he received no answer. His own recollection, however, solved the doubt; for he could not butsee that his own declaration respecting his friendship with Wallace hadincreased the alarm of Edward respecting their political views. One ofthe warders, on having the same inquiry put to him which Bruce hadaddressed to his superior, in a rough tone replied:

"He had best not ask questions, lest he should hear that his majestyhad determined to keep him under Bishop Beck's padlock for life. "

Bruce was not to be deprived of hope by a single evidence, and smiling, said:

"There are more ways of getting out of a tyrant's prison, than by thedoors and windows!"

"Why, you would not eat through the walls?" cried the man. 

"Certainly, " replied Bruce, "if I have no other way, and through theguards too. "

"We'll see to that, " answered the man. 

"And feel it too, my sturdy jailer, " returned the prince; "so look toyourself. "

Bruce threw himself recklessly into a chair as he spoke; while the man, eying him askance, and remembering how strangely the minstrel haddisappeared, began to think that some people born in Scotland inheritedfrom nature a necromantic power of executing whatever they determined. 

Though careless in his manner of treating the warder's information, Bruce thought of it with anxiety; and lost in reflections, checkeredwith hope and doubt of his ever effecting an escape, he remainedimmovable on the spot where the man had left him, till another sentinelbrought in a lamp. He set it down in silence, and withdrew; Bruce thenheard the bolts on the outside of his chamber pushed into their guards. "There they go, " said he to himself; "and those are to be the morningand evening sounds to which I am to listen all my days! At leastEdward would have it so. Such is the gratitude he shows to the man whorestored to him his wife; who restored to him the consciousness ofpossessing that honor unsullied which is so dear to every married man!Well, Edward, kindness might bind generous minds even to forget theirrights; but thanks to you, neither in my own person, nor for any of myname, do I owe you aught, but to behold me King of Scotland; and pleaseGod, that you shall, if the prayers of faith may burst thesedouble-steeled gates, and set me free!"

While invocations to the Power in which he confided, and resolutionsrespecting the consequences of his hoped-for liberty, by turns occupiedhis mind, he heard the tread of a foot in the adjoining passage. Helistened breathless; for no living creature, he thought, could be inthat quarter of the building, as he had suffered none to enter it sinceWallace had disappeared by that way. He half rose from his couch, asthe door at which he had seen him last gently opened. He started up, and Gloucester, with a lantern in his hand, stood before him. The earlput his finger on his lip, and taking Bruce by the hand, led him, as hehad done Wallace, down into the vault which leads to Fincklay Abbey. 

When safe in that subterraneous cloister, the earl replied to theimpatient gratitude of Bruce (who saw that the generous Gloucestermeant he should follow the steps of his friend) by giving him asuccinct account of his motives for changing his first determination, and now giving him liberty. He had not visited Bruce since the escapeof Wallace, that he might not excite any new suspicion in Edward; andthe tower being fast locked at every usual avenue, he had now enteredit from the Fincklay side. He then proceeded to inform Bruce, thatafter his magnanimous forgetfulness of his own safety to insure that ofthe queen had produced a reconciliation between her and her husband, Buchan, Soulis, and Athol, with one or two English lords, joined thenext day to persuade the king that Bruce's avowal respecting Wallacehad been merely an invention of his own to screen some baser friend androyal mistress. They succeeded in reawakening doubts in Edward, who, sending for Gloucester, said to him, "Unless I could hear fromWallace's own lips (and in my case the thing is impossible), that hehas been here, and that my wife is guiltless of this foul stain, I mustever remain in horrible suspense. These base Scots, ever fertile inmaddening suggestions, have made me even more suspect that Bruce hadother reasons for his apparently generous risk of himself, than a loveof justice. "

While these ideas floated in the mind of Edward, Bruce had been moreclosely immured. And Gloucester having received the promised letterfrom Wallace, determined to lay it before the king. Accordingly, onemorning the earl, gliding unobserved into the presence-chamber beforeEdward was brought in, laid the letter under his majesty's cushion. AsGloucester expected, the moment the king saw the superscription, heknew the hand; and hastily breaking the seal, read the letter twiceover to himself without speaking a word. But the clouds which had hungon his countenance all passed away; and with a smile reaching thepacket to Gloucester, he commanded him to read aloud "that silencer ofall doubts respecting the honor of Margaret of France and England. "Gloucester obeyed; and the astonished nobles, looking on each other, one and all assented to the credit that ought to be given to Wallace'sword, and deeply regretted having ever joined in a suspicion againsther majesty. Thus, then, all appeared amicably settled. But theembers of discord still glowed. The three Scottish lords, afraid lestBruce might be again taken into favor, labored to show that hisfriendship with Wallace, pointed to his throwing off the English yoke, and independently assuming the Scottish crown. Edward required noarguments to convince him of the probability of this; and he readilycomplied with Bishop Beck's request to allow him to hold the royalyouth his prisoner. But when the Cummins won this victory over Bruce, they gained nothing for themselves. During the king's vain inquiriesrespecting the manner in which Wallace's letter had been conveyed tothe apartment, they had ventured to throw hints of Bruce having beenthe agent, by some secret means, and that however innocent the queenmight be, he certainly evinced, by such solicitude for her exculpation, a more than usual interest in her person. These latter innuendoes theking crushed in the first whisper. "I have done enough with RobertBruce, " said he. "He is condemned a prisoner for life, and a meresuspicion shall never provoke me to give sentence for his death. "Irritated by this reply, and the contemptuous glance with which it wasaccompanied, the vindictive triumvirate turned from the king to thecourt; and having failed in accomplishing the destruction of Bruce andhis more renowned friend, they determined at least to make a wreck oftheir moral fame. The guilt of Wallace and the queen, and theparticipation of Bruce, was now whispered through every circle, andcredited in proportion to the evil disposition of the hearers. 

Once of his pages at last brought to the ears of the kings the storieswhich these lords so basely circulated; and sending for them, he gavethem so severe a reprimand, that, retiring from his presence withstifled wrath, they agreed to accept the invitation of young LordBadenoch, return to their country, and support him in the regency. Next morning Edward was informed they had secretly left Durham; andfearing that Bruce might also make his escape, a consultation was heldbetween the king and Beck of so threatening a complexion, thatGloucester no longer hesitated to run all risks, but immediately togive the Scottish prince his liberty. 

Having led him to safety through the vaulted passage, they parted inthe cemetery of Fincklay; Gloucester, to walk back to Durham by thebanks of the Wear; and Bruce, to mount the horse the good earl had lefttied to a tree, to convey him to Hartlepool. There he embarked forNormandy. 

When he arrived at Caen, he made no delay, but taking a rapid courseacross the country toward Rouen, on the second evening of histraveling, having pursued his route without sleep, he felt himself soovercome with fatigue, that, in the midst of a vast and dreary plain, he found it necessary to stop for rest at the first habitation he mightfind. It happened to be the abode of one of those poor, but piousmatrons, who, attaching themselves to some neighboring order ofcharity, live alone in desert places for the purpose of succoringdistressed travelers. Here Bruce found the widow's cruse, and a palletto repose his weary limbs. 

Chapter LXI. 

Normandy. 

Wallace, having separated from the Prince Royal of France, pursued hissolitary way toward the capital of Normandy, till night overtook himere he was aware. Clouds so obscured the sky, that not a star wasvisible; and his horse, terrified at the impenetrable darkness, and thedifficulties of the path, which lay over a barren and stony moor, suddenly stopped. This aroused Wallace from a long fit of musing tolook around him; but on which side lay the road to Rouen, he could formno guess. To pass the night in so exposed a spot might be dangerous, and spurring the animal, he determined to push onward. 

He had ridden nearly another hour, when the dead silence of the scenewas broken by the roll of distant thunder. Then forked lightningshooting from the horizon showed a line of country unmarked by anyvestige of human habitation. Still he proceeded. The stormapproached, till, breaking in peals over his head, it discharged suchsheets of livid fire at his feet that the horse reared, and plungingamidst the blaze, flashed the light of his rider's armor on the eyes ofa troop of horsemen, who also stood under the tempest, gazing withaffright at the scene. Wallace, by the same transitory illumination, saw the travelers, as they seemed to start back at his appearance; and, mistaking their apprehension, he called to them, that his well-managed, though terrified steed, would do theirs no harm. One of them advancedand respectfully inquired of him the way to Rouen. Wallace repliedthat he was a stranger in this part of the country, and was alsoseeking that city. While he was yet speaking the thunder became moretremendous, and the lightning rolled in volumes along the ground, thehorses of the troop became restive, and one of them threw its rider. Cries of lamentation, mingling with the groans of the fallen person, excited the compassion of Wallace. He rode toward the spot from whenthe latter proceeded, and asked the nearest bystander (for several hadalighted) whether the unfortunate man was much hurt. The answerreturned was full of alarm for the sufferer, and anxiety to obtain someplace of shelter, for rain began to fall. In a few minutes itincreased to torrents, and the lightning ceasing, deepened the horrorsof the scene by preventing the likelihood of discovering any humanabode. The men gathered round their fallen companion bewailing theprospect of his perishing under these inclemencies; but Wallace cheeredthem by saying he would seek a shelter for their friend, and blow hisbugle when he had found one. With the word he turned his horse, and ashe galloped along, called aloud on any Christian man who might livenear, to open his doors to a dying traveler! After riding about in alldirections, he saw a glimmering light for a moment, and then all wasdarkness; but again he called aloud for charity! and a shrill femalevoice answered, "I am a lone woman, with already one poor traveler inmy house; but, for the Virgin's sake, I will open my door to you, whatever you may be. " The good woman relighted her lamp, which therain had extinguished; and, on her unlatching the door, Wallace brieflyrelated what had happened, entreating her permission to bring theunfortunate person into the cottage. She readily consented; and givinghim a lantern to guide his way, he blew his bugle, which was instantlyanswered by so glad and loud a shout that it assured him his companionscould not be far distant, and that he must have made many a uselesscircuit before he had stopped at this charitable door. 

The men directed him through the darkness by their voices, for thelantern threw its beams but a very little way, and, arriving at theirside, by his assistance the bruised traveler was brought to thecottage. It was a poor hovel; but the good woman had spread a cleanwooden coverlet over her own bed, in the inner chamber, and thitherWallace carried the invalid. He seemed in great pain, but his kindconductor answered their hostess' inquiries respecting him, with abelief that no bones were broken. 

"But yet, " cried she, "sad may be the effects of internal bruises on soemaciated a frame. I will venture to disturb my other guest, whosleeps in the loft, and bring down a decoction that I keep there. Itis made from simple herbs, and I am sure will be of service. "

The old woman having shown to the attendants where they might put theirhorses under shelter of a shed which projected from the cottage, ascended a few steps to the chamber above. Meanwhile, the Scottishchief, assisted by one of the men, disengaged the sufferer from his wetgarments, and covered him with the blankets of the bed. Recovered torecollection by the comparative comfort of his bodily feelings, thestranger opened his eyes. He fixed them on Wallace, then lookedaround, and turned to Wallace again. 

"Generous knight!" cried he, "I have nothing but thanks to offer forthis kindness. You seem to be of the highest rank, and yet havesuccored one who the world abjures!"

The knight returned a courteous answer, and the invalid, in a paroxysmof emotion, added:

"Can it be possible that a prince of France has dared to act contraryto his peers?"

Wallace, not apprehending what had given rise to this question, supposed the stranger's wits were disordered, and looked with thatinquiry toward the attendant. Just at that moment a step, more activethan that of their aged hostess, sounded above, and an exclamation ofsurprise followed it, in a voice that startled Wallace. He turnedhastily round, and a young man sprung from the cottage stairs into theapartment--joy danced in every feature, and the ejaculation, "Wallace!"--"Bruce!" burst at once from the hearts of the two friendsas they rushed into each other's arms. All else present was lost tothem in the delight of meeting after so perilous a separation--adelight not confined for its object to their individual selves, eachsaw in the other the hope of Scotland; and when they embraced, it wasnot merely with the ardor of friendship, but with that of patriotism, rejoicing in the preservation of its chief dependence. 

While the chiefs spoke freely in their native tongue, before a peoplewho could not be supposed to understand them, the aged stranger on thebed reiterated his moans. Wallace, in a few words, telling Bruce themanner of his reencounter with the sick man, and his belief that he wasdisordered in his mind, drew toward the bed, and offered him some ofthe decoction which the woman now brought. The invalid drank it, andgazed earnestly, first on Wallace and then on Bruce. "Pierre, withdraw, " cried he to his personal attendant. The man obeyed. "Sitdown by me, noble friends, " said he to the Scottish chiefs, "and read alesson, which I pray ye lay to your hearts!" Bruce glanced a look atWallace that declared he was of his opinion. Wallace drew a stool, while his friend seated himself on the bed. The old woman, perceivingsomething extraordinary in the countenance of the bruised stranger, thought he was going to reveal some secret heavy on his mind, and alsowithdrew. 

"You think my intellects are injured, " returned he, turning to Wallace, "because I addressed you as one of the house of Philip! Those jeweledlilies round your helmet led me into the error; I never before saw themgranted to other than a prince of the blood. But think not, brave man, I respect you less, since I have discovered that you are not of therace of Philip--that you are other than a prince! Look on me--at thisemaciated form--and behold the reverses of all earthly grandeur! Thispalsied hand once held a scepter--these hollow temples were once boundwith a crown! He that used to be followed as the source of honor, asthe fountain of prosperity--with suppliants at his feet, and flatterersat his side--would now be left to solitude were it not for these fewfaithful servants, who, in spite of all changes, have preserved theirallegiance to the end. Look on me, chiefs, and behold him who was theKing of Scots!"

At this declaration, both Wallace and Bruce, struck with surprise andcompassion at meeting their ancient enemy reduced to such abjectmisery, with one impulse bowed their heads to him with an air ofreverence. The action penetrated the heart of Baliol. For when at themeeting and mutual exclamation of the two friends, he recognized inwhose presence he lay, he fearfully remembered that, by his basesubmissions, turning the scale of judgment in his favor, he haddefrauded the grandsire of the very Bruce now before him of a fairdecision on his rights to the crown! And when he looked on Wallace, who had preserved him from the effects of his accident, and brought himto a shelter from the raging terrors of the night, his consciencedoubly smote him! for, from the hour of his elevation to that of hisdownfall, he had ever persecuted the family of Wallace; and, at thehour which was the crisis of her fate, had denied them the right ofdrawing their swords in defense of Scotland. He, her king, hadresigned her into the hands of an usurper; but Wallace, the injuredWallace, had arisen, like a star of light on the deep darkness of hercaptivity, and Scotland was once more free. In the tempest, the exiledmonarch had started at the blaze of the unknown knight's jeweledpanoply; at the declaration of his name he shrunk before the brightnessof his glory! and, falling back on the bed, he groaned aloud. To theseyoung men, so strangely brought before him, and both of whom he hadwronged, he determined immediately to reveal himself, and see whetherthey were equally resentful of injuries as those he had served hadproved ungrateful for benefits received. He spoke; and when, insteadof seeing the pair rise in indignation on his pronouncing his name, they bowed their heads and sat in respectful silence, his desolateheart expanded at once to admit the long-estranged emotion, and heburst into tears. He caught the hand of Bruce, who sat nearest to him, and, stretching out the other to Wallace, exclaimed, "I have notdeserved this goodness from either of you. Perhaps you two are theonly men now living whom I ever greatly injured; and you, excepting myfour poor attendants, are, perhaps, the only men living who wouldcompassionate my misfortunes!"

"These are lessons, king, " returned Wallace, with reverence, "to fityou for a better crown. And never in my eyes did the descendant ofAlexander seem so worthy of his blood!"

The grateful monarch pressed his hand. Bruce continued to gaze on himwith a thousand awful thoughts occupying his mind. Baliol read in hisexpressive countenance the reflections which chained his tongue. 

"Behold, how low is laid the proud rival of your grandfather!"exclaimed he, turning to Bruce. "I compassed a throne I could notfill. I mistook the robes, the homage, for the kingly dignity. Ibartered the liberties of my country for a crown I knew not how towear, and the insidious trafficker not only reclaimed it, but repaid mewith a prison. There I expiated my crime against the upright Bruce!Not one of all the Scottish lords who crowded Edward's court came tobeguile a moment of sorrow from their captive monarch. Lonely I lived, for the tyrant even deprived me of the comfort of seeing myfellow-prisoner, Lord Douglas--he whom attachment to my true interestshad betrayed to an English prison. I never saw him after the day ofhis being put into the Tower until that of his death. " Wallaceinterrupted the afflicted Baliol with an exclamation of surprise. "Yes, " added he, "I myself closed his eyes. At that awful hour he hadpetitioned to see me, and the boon was granted. I went to him, andthen, with his dying breath, he spoke truths to me, which were indeedmessengers from Heaven! They taught me what I was, and what I mightbe. He died. Edward was then in Flanders, and you, brave Wallace, being triumphant in Scotland, and laying such a stress in yournegotiations for the return of Douglas, the Southron cabinet agreed toconceal his death, and, by making his name an instrument to excite yourhopes and fears, turn your anxiety for him to their own advantage. "

A deep scarlet kindled over the face of Bruce. "With what a race haveI been so long connected! What mean subterfuges, what dastardlydeceits, for the leaders of a great nation to adopt! Oh, king!"exclaimed he, turning to Baliol, "if you have errors to atone for, whatthen must be the penalty of my sin, for holding so long with an enemyas vile as he is ambitious! Scotland! Scotland! I must weep tears ofblood for this!" He rose in agitation. Baliol followed him with hiseyes. 

"Amiable Bruce! you too severely arraign a fault that was venial inyou. Your father gave himself to Edward, and his son accompanied thetribute. "

Bruce vehemently answered, "If King Edward ever said that, he uttered afalsehood. My father loved him, confided in him, and the ingratebetrayed him! His fidelity was no gift of himself, in acknowledgmentof inferiority; it was the pledge of a friendship exchanged on equalterms on the fields of Palestine. And well did King Edward know thathe had no right over either my father or me; for in the moment hedoubted our attachment, he was aware of having forfeited it. He knewhe had no legal claim on us; and forgetting every law, human anddivine, he made us prisoners. But my father found liberty in thegrave, and I am ready to take a sure revenge in--" he would have added"Scotland, " but he forbore to give the last blow to the unhappy Baliol, by showing him that his kingdom had indeed passed from him, and thatthe man was before him who might be destined to wield his scepter. Bruce paused, and sat down in generous confusion. 

"Hesitate not, " said Baliol, "to say where you will take your revenge!I know that the brave Wallace has laid open the way. Had I possessedsuch a leader of my troops, I should not now be a mendicant in thishovel; I should not be a creature to be pitied and despised. Wear him, Bruce--wear him in your heart's core. He gives the throne he mighthave filled. "

"Make not that a subject of praise, " cried Wallace, "which if I hadleft undone, would have stamped me a traitor. I have only performed myduty; and may the Holy Anointer of the hearts of kings guide Bruce tohis kingdom, and keep him there in peace and honor!"

Baliol rose in his bed at these words: "Bruce, " said he, "approach menear. " He obeyed. The feeble monarch turned to Wallace: "You havesupported what was my kingdom through its last struggles for liberty;put forth your hand and support its exiled sovereign in his last legalact. " Wallace raised the king, so as to enable him to assume akneeling posture. Dizzy with the exertion, for a moment he rested onthe shoulder of the chief; and then looking up, he met the eyes ofBruce gazing on him with compassionate interest. The unhappy monarchstretched out his arms to Heaven: "May God pardon the injuries which myfatal ambition did to you and yours--the miseries I brought upon mycountry; and let your reign redeem my errors! May the spirit of wisdombless you, my son!" His hands were now laid, with pious fervor, on thehead of Bruce, who sunk on his knees before him. "Whatever rights Ihad to the crown of Scotland, by the worthlessness of my reign they areforfeited; and I resign all unto you, even to the participation of themere title of king. It has been as the ghost of my former self, as anaccusing spirit to me, but, I trust, an angel of light to you, it willconduct your people into all happiness!" Exhausted by his feelings, hesunk back into the arms of Wallace. Bruce, rising from his knees, poured a little of the herb-balsam into the king's mouth, and herevived. As Wallace laid him back on his pillows, he gazed wistfullyat him, and grasping his hand, said in a low voice: "How did I throw ablessing from me! But in those days, when I rejected your services atDunbar, I knew not the Almighty arm which brought the boy of Ellerslieto save his country! I scorned the patriot flame that spoke yourmission, and the mercy of Heaven departed from me!"**

**This renunciation of Baliol's in favor of Bruce is an historicalfact, and it was made in France. 

Memory was now busy with the thoughts of Bruce. He remembered hisfather's weak, if not criminal devotion at that time to the interestsof Edward; he remembered his heart-wrung death; and looking at thedesolate old age of another of Edward's victims, his brave soul meltedto pity and regret, and he retired into a distant part of the room, toshed, unobserved, the tears he could not restrain. Wallace soon aftersaw the eyes of the exhausted king close in sleep; and cautious ofawakening him, he did not stir; but leaning against the thick oakenframe of the bed, was soon lost in as deep a repose. 

After some time of complete stillness (for the old dame and theattendants were at rest in the outer chamber), Bruce, whose low sighswere echoed by the wind alone, which swept in gusts by the littlecasement, looked toward the abdicated monarch's couch. He sleptprofoundly, yet frequently started, as if disturbed by troubled dreams. Wallace moved not on his hard pillow; and the serenity of perfectpeace rested upon all his features. 

"How tranquil is the sleep of the virtuous!" thought Bruce, as hecontemplated the difference between his state and that of Baliol;"there lies an accusing conscience; here rests one of the mostfaultless of created beings. It is, it is the sleep of innocence!Come, ye slanderers, " continued he, mentally calling on those he hadleft at Edward's court, "and tell me if an adulterer could look thuswhen he sleeps! Is there one trace of irregular passion about thatplacid mouth? Does one of those heavenly-composed features beartestimony to emotions which leave marks even when subdued? No, virtuehas set up her throne in that breast, and well may kings come to bow toit!"

Chapter LXII. 

The Widow's Cell. 

The entrance of the old woman, about an hour after sunrise, awakenedWallace; but Baliol continued to sleep. On the chief's opening hiseyes, Bruce with a smile, stretched out his hand to him. Wallace rose;and whispering the widow to abide by her guest till they should return, the twain went forth to enjoy the mutual confidence of friendship. Awood opened its umbrageous arms at a little distance; and thither, overthe dew-bespangled grass, they bent their way. The birds sung fromtree to tree; and Wallace, seating himself under an overhanging beech, which canopied a narrow winding of the River Seine, listened withmingled pain and satisfaction, to the communications which Bruce had toimpart relative to the recent scenes at Durham. 

"So rapid had been the events, " observed the Scottish prince, when heconcluded his narrative, "that all appears to me a troubled vision; andblessed, indeed, was the awaking of last night, when your voice, sounding from the room below that in which I slept, called me toembrace my best friend, as became the son of my ancestors--free, andready to renew the brightness of their name!"

The discourse next turned to their future plans. Wallace, narratinghis adventure with the Red Reaver, proposed that the favor he shouldask in return (the King of France being earnest to bestow on him someespecial mark of gratitude), should be his interference with Edward togrant the Scots a peaceable retention of their rights. 

"In that case, my prince, " said he, "you will take possession of yourkingdom with the olive-branch in your hand. "

Bruce smiled, but shook his head. 

"And what then will Robert Bruce be? A king to be sure!--but a kingwithout a name! Who won me my kingdom? Who accomplished this peace?Was it not William Wallace? Can I then consent to mount the throne ofmy ancestors--so poor, so inconsiderable a creature? I am not jealousof your fame, Wallace; I glory in it; for you are more to me than thelight to my eyes; but I would prove my right to the crown by deedsworthy of a sovereign. Till I have shown myself in the field againstScotland's enemies, I cannot consent to be restored to my inheritance, even by you. "

"And is it in war alone, " returned Wallace, "that you can show deedsworthy of a sovereign? Think a moment, my honored prince, and thenscorn your objection. Look on the annals of history, nay, on the dailyoccurrences of the world, and see how many are brave and completegenerals; how few wise legislators; how few such efficient rulers as toprocure obedience to the laws, and so give happiness to their people. This is the commission of a king--to be the representative on earth ofthe Father who is in heaven. Here is exercise for courage, forenterprise, for fortitude, for every virtue which elevates thecharacter of a man, this is the godlike jurisdiction of a sovereign. TO go to the field, to lead his people to scenes of carnage, is often aduty in kings; but it is one of those necessities, which, more than thetrifling circumstances of sustaining nature by sleep and food, remindsthe conqueror of the degraded state of mortality. ** The one shows theweakness of the body, the other, the corruption of the soul. For, howfar must man have fallen beneath his former heavenly nature before hecan delight in the destruction of his fellow-men! Lament not, then, brave and virtuous prince, that I have kept your hands from the stainsof blood. Show yourself beyond the vulgar apprehension of what isfame; and, conscious of the powers with which the Creator has endowedyou, assume your throne with the dignity that is their due. Whether itbe to the cabinet or to the field that He calls you to act, obey; andrely on it, a name greater than that of the hero of Macedon will awaitRobert, King of Scots!"

**Alexander the Great one day said to his friend Hephaestion, that "thebusiness of eating and drinking compelled him to remember, and with asense of abasement, his mortal nature, although he was the son ofAmmon. "

"You almost persuade me, " returned Bruce; "but let us see Philip, andthen I will decide. "

As morning was now advanced, the friends turned toward the cottage, intending to see Baliol safe, and then proceed together to Guienne tothe rescue of Lady Helen. That accomplished, they would visit Parisand hear its monarch's determination. 

On entering the humble mansion they found Baliol awake, and anxiouslyinquiring of the widow what was become of the two knights. At sight ofthem he stretched out his hands to both, and said he should be able totravel in a few hours. Wallace proposed sending to Rouen for a litterto carry him the more easily thither. "No, " cried Baliol with a frown;"Rouen shall never see me again within its walls. It was coming fromthence that I lost my way last night; and though my poor servants wouldgladly have returned with me sooner than see me perish in the storm;yet rather would I have been found dead on the road, a reproach to thekings who have betrayed me, than have taken an hour's shelter in thatinhospitable city. "

While the friends took the simple breakfast prepared for them by thewidow, Baliol related, that in consequence of the interference ofPhilip le Bel with Edward, he had been released from the Tower ofLondon and sent to France, but under an oath never to leave thatcountry. Philip gave the exiled king the castle of Galliard for aresidence; where for some time he enjoyed the shadow of royalty, havingstill a sort of court composed of his own noble followers, some of whomwere now with him, and the barons of the neighborhood. Philip allowedhim guards and a splendid table. But on the peace being signed betweenFrance and England, in order that Edward might give up his ally theEarl of Flanders to his offended liege lord, the French monarchconsented to relinquish the cause of Baliol, and though he shouldcontinue to grant him a shelter in his dominions, he removed from himall the appendages of a king. 

"Accordingly, " continued Baliol, "the guard was taken from my gates, myestablishment reduced to that of a private nobleman, and no longerhaving it in my power to gratify the avidity or to flatter the ambitionof those who came about me, I was soon left nearly alone. All but thepoor old lieges whom you see, and who had been faithful to me throughevery change of my life, instantly deserted the forlorn Baliol. Invain I remonstrated with Philip. Either my letters never reached him, or he disdained to answer the man whose claims he had abandoned. Things were in this state when, the other day, and English lord foundit convenient to bring his suit to my castle. I received him withhospitality, but soon found that what I gave in courtesy he seized as aright. In the true spirit of his master Edward he treated me more likethe keeper of an hostel than a generous host. And on my attempting toplead with him for a Scottish lady whom his turbulent passions haveforced from her country and reduced to a pitiable state of illness, hederided my arguments, sarcastically telling me that had I taken care ofmy kingdom, the door would not have been left open for him to steal itsfairest prize--"

Wallace interrupted him: "Heaven grant you may be speaking of Lord deValence and Lady Helen Mar. "

"I am, " replied Baliol. "They are now at Galliard, and as her illnessseems a lingering one, De Valence declared to me his intentions ofcontinuing there. He seized upon the best apartments, and carriedhimself with so much haughtiness that, provoked beyond endurance, Iordered my horse and, accompanied by my honest courtiers, rode to Rouento obtain redress from the governor. But the unworthy Frenchmanadvised me to go back, and by flattering De Valence try to regain thefavor of Edward. I retired in indignation, determined to assert my ownrights in my own castle, but the storm overtook me, and being forsakenby false friends, I am saved by generous enemies. "

Wallace explained his errand respecting Lady Helen, and anxiouslyinquired of Baliol whether he meant to return to Galliard?

"Immediately, " replied he; "go with me, and if the lady consents (whichI do not doubt, for she scorns his prayers for her hand, and passesnight and day in tears), I engage to assist in her escape. "

Baliol then advised they should not all return to the castle together, the sight of two knights of their appearance accompanying his hostbeing likely to alarm De Valence. 

"The quietest way, " continued the deposed king, "is the surest. Followme at a short distance, and toward the shadows of evening, knock at thegates and request a night's entertainment. I will grant it, and thenyour happy destiny, ever fortunate Wallace, must do the rest. "

This scheme being approved, a litter of hurdles was formed for theinvalid monarch, and the old woman's pallet spread upon it. 

"I will return it to you, my good widow, " said Baliol, "and with proofsof my gratitude. "

The two friends assisted the king to rise. When he set his food on thefloor, he felt so surprisingly better that he though he could ride thejourney. Wallace overruled this wish, and with Bruce supported hisemaciated figure toward the door. The widow stood to see her guestsdepart. As Baliol mounted the litter, he slid a piece of gold into herhand. Wallace saw not what the king had given and gave a purse as hisreward. Bruce had naught to bestow. He had left Durham with little, and that little was expended. 

"My good widow, " said he, "I am poor in everything but gratitude. Inlieu of gold you must accept my prayers. "

"May they, sweet youth, " replied she, "return on your own head, givingyou bread from the barren land and water out of sterile rock!"

"And have you no blessing for me, mother?" asked Wallace, turning roundand regarding her with an impressive look; "some spirit you wist notof, speaks in your words. "

"Then it must be a good spirit, " answered she; "for all around mebetokens gladness. The Scripture saith, 'Be kind to the wayfaring man, for many have so entertained angels unawares!' Yesterday at this timeI was the poorest of all the daughters of charity. 

"Last night I opened my doors in the storm, you enter and give meriches; he follows and endows me with his prayers! Am I not thengreatly favored by Him who dispenseth to all who trust in Him. Hismercy and your goodness shall not be hidden; for from this day forth Iwill light a fire each night in a part of my house whence it may beseen on every side from a great distance. Like you, princely knight, whose gold will make it burn, it shall shine afar, and give light andcomfort to all who approach it. "

"And when you look on it, " said Wallace, "tell your beads for me. I ama son of war, and it may blaze when my vital spark is expiring. "

The widow paused, gazed on him steadily, and then burst into tears. 

"Is it possible, " cried she, "that beautiful face may be laid in dust, that youthful form lay cold in clay, and these aged limbs survive tolight a beacon to your memory!--and it shall arise! it shall burn likea holy flame, an incense to Heaven for the soul of him who has succoredthe feeble, and made the widow's heart to sing for joy!"

Wallace pressed the old woman's withered hand; Bruce did the same. Shesaw them mount their horses, and when they disappeared from her eyes, she returned into her cottage and wept. 

Chapter LXIII. 

Chateau Galliard. 

When Baliol arrived within a few miles of Chateau Galliard, he pointedto a wooded part of the forest, and told the friends, that under itsgroves they had best shelter themselves till the sun set; soon afterwhich he should expect them at the castle. 

Long indeed seemed the interval. It usually happens that incontemplating a project, while the period of its execution appearsdistant, we think on it with composure; but when the time of action isnear, when we only wait the approach of an auxiliary, or the lapse ofan hour, every passing moment seems an age, and the impatient soul isready to break every bound, to grasp the completion of its enterprise. So Wallace now felt--felt as he had never done before; for in all hiswarlike exploits each achievement had immediately followed the momentof resolve; but here he was delayed, to grow in ardor as hecontemplated an essay in which every generous principle of man wassummoned into action. He was going to rescue a helpless woman from thehands of a man of violence; she was also the daughter of his first allyin the great struggle for Scotland, and who had fallen in the cause. Glad was he then to see the sun sink behind the distant hills. At thatmoment he and his friend closed their visors, mounted their horses, andset off at full speed toward the chateau. 

When they came in view of the antique towers of Galliard, theyslackened their pace, and leisurely advanced to the gates. The bugleof Wallace demanded admittance; a courteous assent was brought by thewarder; the gates unfolded, the friends entered; and in the nextinstant they were conducted into a room where Baliol sat. De Valencewas walking to and fro in a great chafe; he started at sight of theprincely armor of Wallace (for he, as Baliol had done, now conceived, from the lilied diadem, that the stranger must be of the royal house ofFrance); and composing his turbulent spirit, he bowed respectfully tothe supposed prince. Wallace returned the salutation, and Baliolrising, accosted him with a dignified welcome. He saw the mistake ofDe Valence, and perceived how greatly it might facilitate the executionof their project. 

On his host's return to the chateau, De Valence had received him withmore than his former insolence, for the Governor of Rouen had sent himinformation of the despised monarch's discontent; and when the despoticlord hear a bugle at the gate, and learned that it was answered by theadmission of two traveling knights, he flew to Baliol in displeasure, commanding him to recall his granted leave. At the moment of hiswrath, Wallace entered, and covered him with confusion. Struck atseeing a French prince in one of the persons he was going to treat withsuch indignity, he shrunk into himself, and bowed before him with allthe cowering meanness of a base and haughty soul. Wallace, feeling hisreal pre-eminence, bent his head in acknowledgment, with a majestywhich convinced the earl that he was not mistaken. Baliol welcomed hisguest in a manner not to dispel the illusion. 

"Happy am I, " cried he, "that the hospitality which John Baliolintended to show to a mere traveler, confers on him the distinction ofserving one of a race whose favor confers protection, and itsfriendship honor. "

Wallace returned a gracious reply to this speech; and turning to Bruce, said:

"This knight is my friend; and though from peculiar circumstancesneither of us chooses to disclose his name during our journey, yet, whatever they may be, I trust you will confide in the word of one whomyou have honored by the address you have now made, and believe that hisfriend is not unworthy the hospitalities of him who was once King ofScots. "

De Valence now approached, and announcing who he was, assured theknights in the name of the King of England, whom he was going torepresent in Guienne, of every respect from himself, assistance fromhis retinue, to bring them properly on their way. 

"I return you the thanks due to your courtesy, " replied Wallace; "andshall certainly remain to-night a burden on King Baliol; but in themorning we must depart as we came, having a vow to perform, whichexcludes the service of attendants. "

A splendid supper was served, at the board of which De Valence sat, aswell as Baliol. From the moment that the strangers entered, theEnglish earl never withdrew; so cautious was he to prevent Baliolinforming his illustrious guests of the captivity of Lady Helen Mar. Wallace ate nothing; he sat with his visor still closed, and almost inprofound silence, never speaking but when spoken to, and then onlyanswering in as few words as possible. De Valence supposed that thistaciturnity was connected with his vow, and did not further remark it;but Bruce (who at Caen had furnished himself with a complete suit ofblack armor) appeared, though equally invisible under his visor, infinitely more accessible. The humbler fashion of his martialaccouterment did not announce the prince; but his carriage was sonoble, his conversation bespoke so accomplished a mind, and brave aspirit, that De Valence did not doubt that both men before him were ofthe royal family. He had never seen Charles de Valois; and believingthat he now saw him in Wallace, he directed all that discourse toBruce, which he meant should reach the ear of De Valois, and from himpass to that of the King of France. Bruce guessed what was passing inhis mind; and, with as much amusement as design, led forward the earl'smistake--but rather by allowing him to deceive himself, than by anyactual means on his side to increase the deception. De Valence threwout hints respecting a frontier town in Guienne, which, he said, hethought his royal master could be persuaded to yield to the Frenchmonarch, as naturally belonging to Gascony. But then the affair mustbe properly represented, he added; and had he motive enough toinvestigate some parchments in his possession, he believed he couldplace the affair in a true light, and convince Edward of the superiorclaims of the French king. Then casting out hints of the claim he had, by right of his ancestors, to the seigniory of Valence in Dauphiny, hegave them to understand, that if Philip would invest him with therevenues of Valence on the Rhone, he would engage that the other townin question should be delivered to France. 

Notwithstanding Baliol's resolution to keep awake and assist hisfriends in their enterprise, he was so overcome by fatigue that he fellasleep soon after supper, and so gave De Valence full opportunity tounveil his widely-grasping mind to the Scottish chiefs. Wallace nowsaw that the execution of his project must depend wholly upon himself;and how to inform Helen that he was in the castle, and of his plan toget her out of it, hardly occupied him more than what to devise todetain De Valence in the banqueting-room, while he went forth toprosecute his design. As these thoughts absorbed him, by anunconscious movement he turned toward the English earl. De Valencepaused, and looked at him, supposing he was going to speak; but findinghim still silent, the earl addressed him, though with some hesitation, feeling an inexplicable awe of directly saying to him what he had soeasily uttered to his more approachable companion. 

"I seek not, illustrious stranger, " said he, "to inquire the name youhave already intimated must be concealed; but I have sufficient faithin that brilliant circlet around your brows, to be convinced (as noneother than the royal hand of Philip could bestow it) that itdistinguishes a man of the first honor. You now know my sentiments, prince; and for the advantage of both kings, I confide them to yourservices. "

Wallace rose. 

"Whether I am prince or vassal, " replied he, "my services shall ever begiven in the cause of justice; and of that, Earl de Valence, you willbe convinced when next you hear of me. My friend, " cried he, turningto Bruce, "you will remain with our host; I go to perform the vigils ofmy vow. "

Bruce understood him. It was not merely with their host he was toremain, but to detain De Valence, and, opening at once the versatilepowers of his abundant mind, his vivacity charmed the earl, while themagnificence of his views in policy corroborated to De Valence the ideathat he was conversing with one whose birth had placed him beyond eventhe temptations of those ambitions which were at that moment subjectinghis auditor's soul to every species of flattery, meanness, and, infact, disloyalty. Bruce, in his turn, listened with much apparentinterest to all De Valence's dreams of aggrandizement, and recollectinghis reputation for a love of wine, he replenished the earl's goblet sooften, that the fumes made him forget all reserve; and after pouringforth the whole history of his attachments to Helen, and his resolutionto subdue her abhorrence by love and grandeur, he gradually lowered hiskey, and at last fell fast asleep. 

Meanwhile Wallace wrapped himself in Baliol's blue cloak, which lay inthe anteroom, and enveloping even his helmet in the friendly mantle, hemoved swiftly along the gallery toward the chamber of Helen. To beprepared for obstacles, he had obtained from Baliol a particulardescription of the situation of every apartment leading to it. It wasnow within an hour of midnight. He passed through several large vacantrooms, and at last arrived at the important door. It opened into asmall chamber, in which two female attendants lay asleep. He gentlyraised the latch, and, with caution taking the lamp which burned on thetable, glided softly through the curtains which filled the cedar archthat led into the apartment of Helen. He approached the bed, coveringthe light with his hand, while he observed her. She was in a profoundsleep, but pale as the sheet which enveloped her--her countenanceseemed troubled, her brows frequently knit themselves, and she startedas she dreamed, as if in apprehension. Once he heard her lips faintlymurmur, "Save me, my father! on you alone--" There she stopped. Hisheart bled at this appeal. "Thy father's friend comes to save thee, "he would have cried, but he checked the exclamation--his hand droppedat the same instant from before the lamp, and the blaze striking fullon her eyes, waked her. She looked up, and she believed her dreamrealized--De Valence leaning over the bed, and herself wholly in hispower! A shriek of horror as bursting from her lips, when Wallacehastily raised his visor. At the moment when despair was in her orphanheart, and her whole soul turned with abhorrence from the supposed DeValence, she met the eyes of the dearest to her on earth--those ofindeed her father's friend! Stretching forth her arms, for an instantshe seemed flying to the protection of him to whose honor she had beenbequeathed; but falling back again on her bed, the glad surprise ofseeing him, who in her estimation was her only earthly security nowthat her father was no more, shook her with such emotion, that Wallacefeared to see her delicate frame sink into some deadly swoon. 

Alarmed for her life, or the accomplishment of her deliverance, hethrew himself on his knees beside her, and softly whispered, "Becomposed, for the love of Heaven and your own safety. Be collected andfirm, and you shall fly this place with me to-night. "

Hardly conscious of the action, Helen grasped the hand that held hers, and would have replied; but her voice failing, she fainted on his arm. Wallace now saw no alternative but to remove her hence, even in thisinsensible state; and, raising her gently in his arms, enveloped in thesilk coverlet, with cautious steps he bore her through the curtainedentrance, and passed the sleeping damsels into the anterooms. To meetany of De Valence's men while in this situation would betray ll. Toavoid this, he hastened through the illuminated passages, and turninginto the apartment appointed for himself, laid the now reviving Helenupon a couch. "Water, " said she, "and I shall soon be myself again. "

He gave her some, and at the same time laying a page's suit of clothes(which Baliol had provided) beside her, "Dress yourself in these, LadyHelen, " said he; "I shall withdraw meanwhile into the passage, but yoursafety depends on expedition. "

Before she could answer he had disappeared. Helen instantly threwherself on her knees to thank a higher power for this commencement ofher deliverance, and to beseech His blessing on its consummation. Sherose strengthened, and, obeying Wallace, the moment she was equipped, she laid her hand upon the latch, but the watchful ear of her friendheard her, and he immediately opened the door. The lamps of thegallery shone full upon the light grace of her figure, as shrinkingwith blushing modesty, and yet eager to be with her preserver, shestood hesitating before him. He threw his cloak over her, and puttingher arm through his, in the unobscured blaze of his princely armor, hedescended to the lower hall of the castle. One man only was there. Wallace ordered him to open the great door. "It is a fine night, " saidhe, "and I shall ride some miles before I sleep. " The man asked if hewere to saddle the horses; he was answered in the affirmative, and thegate being immediately unbarred, Wallace led his precious charge intothe freedom of the open air. As soon as she saw the outside of thosetowers, which she had entered as the worst of all prisoners, her heartso overflowed with gratitude to her deliverer, that sinking by his sideupon her knees, she could only grasp his hand, and bathe it with thepure tears of rescued innocence. Her manner penetrated his soul, andhe raised her in his arms; but she, dreading that she had perhaps donetoo much, convulsively articulated, "My father--his blessing--"

"Was a rich endowment, Lady Helen, " returned Wallace, "and you shallever find me deserving of it. " Her head leaned on his breast. But howdifferent was the lambent flame which seemed to emanate from eitherheart, as they now beat against each other, from the destructive firewhich shot from the burning veins of Lady mar, when she would havepolluted with her unchaste lips this shrine of a beloved wife, thisbosom consecrated to her sacred image! Wallace had shrunk from her, asfrom the touch of some hideous contagion, but with Lady Helen it wassoul meeting soul, it was innocence resting on the bosom of virtue. Nothought that saints would not have approved was there, no emotion whichangels might not have shared, glowed in their grateful bosoms--she, grateful to him; both grateful to God. 

The man brought the horses from the stable. He knew that two strangershad arrived at the castle, and not noticing Helen's stature, supposedthey were both before him. He had been informed by the servants, thatthe taller of the two was the Count de Valois, and he now held thestirrup for him to mount; But Wallace placed Helen on Bruce's horse, and then vaulting on his own, put a piece of gold into the attendant'shand. 

"You will return, noble prince?" inquired the man. 

"Why should you doubt it?" answered Wallace. 

"Because, " replied the servant, "I wish the brother of the King ofFrance to know the foul deeds which are doing in his dominions. "

"By whom?" asked Wallace, surprised at this address. 

"By the Earl de Valence, prince, " answered he; "he has now in thiscastle a beautiful lady, whom he brought from a foreign land, andtreats in a manner unbecoming a knight or a man. "

"And what would you have me do?" said Wallace, willing to judge whetherthis applicant were honest in his appeal. 

"Come in the power of your royal brother, " answered he, "and demand theLady Helen Mar of Lord de Valence. "

Helen, who had listened with trepidation to this dialogue, drew nearerWallace, and whispered in an agitated voice, "Ah! let us hasten away. "

The man was close enough to hear her. 

"Hah!" cried he, in a burst of doubtful joy; "is it so? Is she here?say so, noble knight, and Joppa Grimsby will serve ye both forever!"

"Grimsby!" cried Helen, recollecting his voice the moment he haddeclared his name; "what! the honest English soldier? I and mypreserver will indeed value so trusty a follower. "

The name of Grimsby was too familiar to the memory of Wallace, tooclosely associated with his most cherished meditations, for him not torecognize it with melancholy pleasure. He had never seen Grimsby, buthe knew him well worthy of his confidence; and ordered him (if hereally desired to follow Lady Helen) to bring two more horses from thestables. When they were brought, Wallace made the joyful signalconcerted with Bruce and Baliol, to sound the Scottish pryse as soon ashe and his fair charge were out of the castle. 

The happy tidings met the ear of the prince while anxiously watchingthe sleeping of De Valence, for fear he should awake and, leaving theroom, interrupt Wallace in his enterprise. What, then, was histransport when the first note of the horn burst upon the silence aroundhim! He sprung on his feet. The impetuosity of the action rousedBaliol, who had been lying all the while sound asleep in his chair. Bruce made a sign to him to be silent, and pressing his hand withenergy, forgot the former Baliol in the present, and, for a momentbending his knee, kissed the hand he held; then, rising, disappeared inan instant. 

He flew through the open gates. Wallace perceiving him, rode out fromunder the shadow of the trees. The bright light of the moon shone onhis sparkling crest; that was sufficient for Bruce, and Wallace, falling back again into the shade, was joined the next moment by hisfriend. Who this friend was for whom her deliverer had told Helen hewaited, she did not ask; for she dreaded, while so near danger, tobreathe a word; but she guessed that it must either be Murray or Edwin. De Valence had barbarously told her that not only her father was nomore, but that her uncles, the Lords Bothwell and Ruthven, had bothbeen killed in the last battle. Hence, with a saddened joy, one of hertwo bereaved cousins she now prepared to see; and every filialrecollection pressing on her heart her tears flowed silently and inabundance. As Bruce approached, his black mantle so wrapped him shecould not distinguish his figure. Wallace stretched forth his hand tohim in silence; he grasped it with the warm but mute congratulation offriendship, and throwing himself on his horse, triumphantly exclaimed, "Now for Paris!" Helen recognized none she knew in that voice; anddrawing close to the white courser of Wallace, with something likedisappointment mingling with her happier thoughts, she made her horsekeep pace with the fleetness of her companions. 

Chapter LXIV. 

Forest of Vincennes. 

Avoiding the frequented track to Paris, Wallace (to whom Grimsby wasnow a valuable auxiliary, he being well acquainted with the country)took a sequestered path by the banks of the Marne, and entered theForest of Vincennes just as the moon set. Having ridden far, andwithout cessation, the old soldier proposed their alighting, to allowthe lady an opportunity of reposing awhile under the trees. Helen wasindeed nearly exhausted, though the idea of her happy flight, byinspiring her with a strength which surprised even herself, for a longtime had kept her insensible to fatigue. While her friends pressed onwith a speed which allowed no more conversation than occasionalinquiries of how she bore the journey, the swiftness of the motion andthe rapidity of the events which had brought her from the mostfrightful of situations into one the dearest to her secret andhardly-breathed wishes, so bewildered her faculties, that hse almostfeared she was only enjoying one of those dreams which since hercaptivity had often mocked her with the image of Wallace and herrelease; and every moment she dreaded to awake and find herself still aprisoner to De Valence. "I want no rest, " replied she to theobservation of Grimsby; "I could feel none till we are beyond thepossibility of being overtaken by my enemy. "

"You are as safe in this wood, lady, " returned the soldier, "as you canbe in any place betwixt Galliard and Paris. It is many miles from thechateau, and lies in so remote a direction, that were the earl topursue us, I am sure he would never choose this path. "

"And did he even come up with us, dear Lady Helen, " said Wallace, "could you fear, when with your father's friend?"

"It is for my father's friend I fear, " gently answered she; "I can haveno dread for myself while under such protection. "

A very little more persuaded Helen; and Grimsby having spread his cloakon the grass, Wallace lifted her from her horse. As soon as she puther foot to the ground her head grew giddy, and she must have fallenbut for the supporting arm of her watchful friend. He carried her tothe couch prepared by the good soldier, and laid her on it. Grimsbyhad been more provident than they could have expected; for aftersaddling the second pair of horses, he had returned into the hall forhis cloak, and taking an undrawn flask of wine from the seneschal'ssupper-table, put it into his vest. This he now produced, and Wallacemade Helen drink some of it. The cordial soon revived her, and sinkingon her pillow of leaves, she soon found the repose her wearied framedemanded and induced. For fear of disturbing her not a word wasspoken. Wallace watched at her head, and Bruce sat at her feet, whileGrimsby remained with the horses, as a kind of outpost. 

Sweet was her sleep, for the thoughts with which she sunk into slumberoccupied her dreams. Still she was riding by the side of Wallace, listening to his voice, cheering her through the lengthening way! Butsome wild animal in its nightly prowl crossing before the horses, theybegan to snort and plunge, and though the no less terrified alarmerfled far away, it was with difficulty the voice and management ofGrimsby could quiet them. The noise suddenly awoke Helen, and herscattered faculties not immediately recollecting themselves, she feltan instant impression that all had indeed been a dream, and starting inaffright, she exclaimed, "Where am I? Wallace, where art thou?"

"Here!" cried he, pressing her hand with fraternal tenderness; "I amhere; you are safe with your friend and brother. "

Her heart beat with a terror which this assurance could hardly subdue. At last she said in an agitated voice, "Forgive me if my senses are alittle strayed! I have suffered so much, and this release seems somiraculous, that at moments I hardly believe it real. I wish daylightwere come that I might be convinced. " When she had uttered thesewords, she suddenly stopped, and then added, "But I am very weak totalk thus; I believe my late terrors have disordered my head. "

"What you feel, lady, is only natural, " observed Bruce; "I experiencedthe same when I first regained my liberty, and found myself on the roadto join Sir William Wallace. Dear, indeed, is liberty; but dearer isthe friend whose virtues make our recovered freedom sure. "

"Who speaks to me?" said Helen, in a low voice to Wallace, and raisingher head from that now supporting arm, on which she felt she did buttoo much delight to lean. 

"One, " answered Wallace, in the same tone, "who is not to be publiclyknown until occasion demands it; one who, I trust in God, will one dayseal the happiness of Scotland--Robert Bruce. "

That name which, when in her idea it belonged to Wallace, used to raisesuch emotions in her breast, she now heard with an indifference thatsurprised her. But who could be more to Scotland than Wallace hadbeen? All that was in the power of patriot or of king to do for hiscountry, he had done; and what then was Bruce in her estimation? Onewho, basking in pleasures while his country suffered, allowed a bravesubject to breast, to overthrow every danger, before he put himselfforward? and now he appeared to assume a throne, which, though hisright by birth, he had most justly forfeited, by neglecting the dutiesindispensable in the heir of so great and oppressed a kingdom! Thesewould have been her thoughts of him; but Wallace called this Bruce hisfriend! and the few words she had heard him speak, being full ofgratitude to her deliverer, that engaged her esteem. 

The answer, however, which she made to the reply of Wallace wasspontaneous, and it struck upon the heart of Bruce. "How long, " saidshe, "have you promised Scotland that it should see that day!"

"Long, to my grief, Lady Helen, " rejoined Bruce; "I would say to myshame--had I ever intentionally erred toward my country; but ignoranceof her state, and of the depth of Edward's treachery, was my crime. Ionly required to be shown the right path to pursue it, and Sir WilliamWallace came to point the way. My soul, lady, is not unworthy thedestiny to which he calls me. " Had there been light, she would haveseen the flush of conscious virtue that overspread his fine countenancewhile he spoke; but the words were sufficient to impress her with thatrespect he deserved, and which her answer showed. 

"My father taught me to consider the Bruce the rightful heirs ofScotland; and now that I see the day which he so often wished to hail, I cannot but regard it as the termination of Scotland's woes. Oh! hadit been before! perhaps--" Here she paused, for tears stopped herutterance. 

"You think, " rejoined Bruce, "that much bloodshed might have beenspared! But, dear lady, poison not the comfort of your life by thatbelief. No man exists who could have effected so much for Scotland inso short a time, and with so little loss, as our Wallace has done. Who, like him, makes mercy the companion of war, and compels even hisenemies to emulate the clemency he shows? Fewer have been slain on theScottish side during the whole of his struggle with Edward, than werelost by Baliol on the fatal day of Dunbar. Then, no quarter was given;and too many of the wounded were left to perish on the field. But withWallace, life was granted to all who asked; the wounded enemy and thefriend were alike succored by him. This conduct provoked the jealousyof the Southron generals, not to be surpassed in generosity, and thuscomparatively few have been lost. But if in that number some of ournoblest chiefs, we must be resigned to yield to God what is his own;may, we must be grateful, daughter of the gallant Mar, for the mannerin which they were taken. They fell in the arms of true glory, likeparents defending their offspring; while others--my grandfather andfather--perished with broken hearts, in unavailing lamentations thatthey could not share the fate of those who died for Scotland. "

"But you, dear Bruce, " returned Wallace, "will live for her; will teachthose whose hearts have bled in her cause, to find a balm for everywound in her prosperity. "

Helen smiled through her tears at those words. They spoke the heavenlyconsolation which had descended on her mourning spirit. "If Scotlandbe to rest under the happy reign of Robert Bruce, then envy cannotagain assail Sir William Wallace, and my father has not shed his bloodin vain. His beautified spirit, with those of my uncles Bothwell andRuthven, will rejoice in such a peace, and I shall enjoy it tofelicity, in so sacred a participation. Surprised at her associatingthe name of Lord Ruthven with those who had fallen, Wallace interruptedher with the assurance of her uncle's safety. The Scottish chiefseasily understood that De Valence had given her the oppositeintelligence, to impress her with an idea that she was friendless, andso precipitate her into the determination of becoming his wife. Butshe did not repeat to her brave auditors all the arguments he had usedto shake her impregnable heart--impregnable, because a principle keptguard there, which neither flattery nor ambition could dispossess. Hehad told her that the very day in which she would give him her hand, King Edward would send him viceroy into Scotland, where she shouldreign with all the power and magnificence of a queen. He was handsome, accomplished, and adored her; but Helen could not love him whom shecould not esteem, for she knew he was libertine, base and cruel. Thathe loved her affected her not; she could only be sensible to anaffection placed on worthy foundations; and he who trampled on allvirtues in his own actions, could not desire them when seen in her; hetherefore must love her for the fairness of her form alone; and toplace any value on such affection was to grasp the wind. 

Personal flatteries having made no impression on Helen, ambitiousprojects were attempted with equal failure. Had De Valence been lordof the eastern and western empires, could he have made her the envy andadmiration of a congregated world, all would have been in vain; she hadseen and known the virtues of Sir William Wallace; and from that hour, all that was excellent in man, and all that was desirable on earth, seemed to her to be in him summed up. "On the barren heath, " said sheto herself, "in some desert island, with only thee and thy virtues, howhappy could be Helen Mar! how great! For, to share thy heart--thy thynoble, glorious heart--would be a bliss, a seal of honor from Heaven, with which no terrestrial elevation could compare!" Then would shesigh; capable of appreciating and loving above all earthly things thematchless virtues of Sir William Wallace. On the very evening of thenight in question in which he had so unexpectedly appeared to releaseher, her thoughts had been engaged in this train: "Yes, " cried she toherself, "even in loving thy perfections there is such enjoyment, thatI would rather be as I am--what others might call the hopeless Helen, than the loving and beloved of any other man on earth. In thee I lovevirtue; and the imperishable sentiment will bless me in the world tocome. " With these thoughts she had fallen asleep; she dreamed that shecalled on her father, on Wallace to save her, and on opening her eyes, she had found him indeed near. 

Every word which this almost adored friend now said to comfort her withregard to her own immediate losses, to assure her of the peace ofScotland, should Heaven bless the return of Bruce, took root in hersoul, and sprung up into resignation and happiness. She listened tothe plans of Wallace and of Bruce to effect their great enterprise, andthe hours of the night passed to her not only in repose, but inenjoyment. Wallace, though pleased with the interest she took in eventhe minutest details of their design, became fearful of overtasking herweakened frame; he whispered Bruce to gradually drop the conversation;and, as it died away, slumber again stole over her eyelids. 

The dawn had spread far over the sky while she yet slept. Wallace satcontemplating her, and the now sleeping Bruce, who had alsoimperceptibly sunk to rest. Various and anxious were his meditations. He had hardly seen seven-and-twenty years, yet so had he been tried inthe vicissitudes of life, that he felt as if he had lived a century;and instead of looking on the lovely Helen as on one whose charms mightclaim a lover's lovely Helen as on one whose charms might claim alover's wishes in his breast, he regarded her with sentiments more likeparental tenderness. That, indeed, seemed the affection which nowreigned in his bosom. He felt as a father toward Scotland. For everyson and daughter of that harassed country, he was ready to lay down hislife. Edwin he cherished in his heart as he would have done thedearest of his own offspring. It was as a parent to whom a beloved andprodigal son had returned, that he looked on Bruce. But Helen, of allScotland's daughters, she was the most precious in his eyes; set loveaside, and no object without the touch of that all-pervading passioncould he regard with more endearing tenderness than he did Helen Mar. 

The shades of night vanished before the bright uprise of the king ofday, and with them her slumbers. She stirred; she awoke. The lark wasthen soaring with shrill cadence over her head; its notes pierced theear of Bruce, and he started on his feet. 

"You have allowed me to sleep, Wallace?"

"And why not?" replied he. "Here it was safe for all to have slept. Yet had there been danger, I was at my post to have called you. " Hegently smiled as he spoke. 

"Whence, my friend, " cried Bruce, with a respondent beam on hiscountenance, "did you draw the ethereal essence that animates yourframe? You toil for us--watch for us, and yet you never seem fatigued, never discomposed! How is this? What does it mean?"

"That the soul is immortal, " answered Wallace; "that it has a godlikepower given to it by the Giver of all good, even while on earth, tosubdue the wants of this mortal frame. The circumstances in whichHeaven has cast me, have disciplined my circumstances in which Heavenhas cast me, have disciplined my body to obey my mind in all things;and, therefore, when the motives for exertion are strong within me, itis long, very long, before I feel hunger, thirst, or drowsiness. Indeed, while thus occupied, I have often thought it possible for theactivity of the soul so to wear the body, that some day she might findit suddenly fall away from about her spiritual substance, and leave herunencumbered, without having felt the touch of death. And yet, thatElisha-like change, " continued Wallace, following up on his ownthought, "could not be till Heaven sees the appointed time. 'Man doesnot live by bread alone;' neither by sleep, nor any species ofrefreshment. His Spirit alone, who created all things, can give us arest, while we keep the strictest vigils; His power can sustain thewasting frame, even in a barren wilderness. "

"True, " replied Helen, looking timidly up: "but, because Heaven is sogracious as sometimes to work miracles in our favor, surely we are notauthorized to neglect the natural means of obtaining the same end?"

"Certainly not, " returned Wallace; "it is not for man to tempt God atany time. Sufficient for us it is to abide by His all-wisedispensations. When we are in circumstances that allow the usual meansof life, it is demanded of us to use them. But when we are broughtinto situations where watching, fasting, and uncommon toils are not tobe avoided, then it is an essential part of our obedience to performour duties to the end, without any regard to the wants which may impedeour way. It is in such an hour, when the soul of man, resolved toobey, looks down on human nature and looks up to God, that he receivesboth the manna and the ever-living waters of heaven. By this faith andperseverance, the uplifted hands of Moses prevailed over Amalek inRephidim; and by the same did the lengthened race of the sun lightJoshua to a double victory in Gibeon. "

The morning vapors having dispersed from the opposite plain, and Helenbeing refreshed by her long repose, Wallace seated her on horseback, and they recommenced their journey. The helmets of both chiefs werenow open. Grimsby looked at one and the other; the countenances ofboth assured him that he should find a protector in either. He drewtoward Helen; she noticed his manner, and observing to Wallace that shebelieved the soldier wished to speak with her, checked her horse. Atthis action, Grimsby presumed to ride up, and bowing respectfully, said, that before he followed her to Paris, it would be right for theCount de Valois to know whom he had taken into his train; "one, madam, who has been degraded by King Edward; degraded, " added he, "but notdebased; that last disgrace depends on myself; and I should shrink fromyour protection rather than court it, were I indeed vile. "

"You have too well proved your integrity, Grimsby, " replied Helen, "todoubt it now; but what has the Count de Valois to do with your beingunder my protection? It is not to him we go, but to the French king. "

"And is not that knight with the diadem, " inquired Grimsby, "the Countde Valois? The servants at Chateau Galliard told me he was so. "

Surprised at this, Helen said the knight should answer for himself; andquickening the step of her horse, followed by Grimsby, rejoined hisside. 

When she informed Wallace of what had passed, he called the soldier toapproach. "Grimsby, " said he, "you have claims upon me which shouldinsure you my protection were I even insensible to the honorableprinciples you have just declared to Lady Helen. But, I repeat, I amalready your friend. You have only to speak, and all in my power toserve you shall be done. "

"Then, sir, " returned he, "as mine is rather a melancholy story, andparts of it have already drawn tears from Lady Helen, if you will honorme with your attention apart from her, I would relate how I fell intodisgrace with my sovereign. "

Wallace fell a little back with Grimsby; and while Bruce and Helen rodebriskly forward, he, at a slower pace, prepared to listen to therecapitulation of scenes in which he was only too deeply interested. The soldier began by narrating the fatal events at Ellerslie, which hadcompelled him to leave the army in Scotland. He related that afterquitting the priory of St. Fillan, he reached Guienne, and there servedunder the Earl of Lincoln, until the marriage of Edward with KingPhilip's sister gave the English monarch quiet possession of thatprovince. Grimsby then marched with the rest of the troops to jointheir sovereign in Flanders. There he was recognized, and brought tojudgment by one of Heselrigge's captains; one who had been a particularfavorite with the tyrant from their similarity of disposition, and towhom he had told the mutiny and desertion (as he called it) of Grimsby. But on the presentation of the Earl of Lincoln, his punishment wasmitigated from death to the infliction of a certain number of lashes. This sentence, which the honest officer regarded as worse than the lossof life, was executed. On stripping him at the halberts, Lady Helen'sgift, the diamond clasp, was found hanging round his neck; this wasseized as a proof of some new crime; his general now gave him up; andso inconsistent were his judges, that while they allowed this treason(for so they stigmatized his manly resentment of Heselrigge's cruelty)to prejudice them in this second charge, they would not believe whatwas so probable, that this very jewel had been given to him by a friendof Sir William Wallace in reward for his behavior on that occasion. Heappealed to Edward, but he appealed in vain; and on the following dayhe was adjudged to be broken on the wheel for the supposed robbery. 

Every heart was callous to his sufferings, but that of the wife of hisjailer; who, fancying him like a brother of hers, who had been killedten years before in Italy, at the dead of the night she opened hisprison doors. He fled into Normandy; and, without a home, outlawed, branded as a traitor and a thief, he was wandering half-desperate onestormy night on the banks of the Marne, when a cry of distressattracted his attention. It issued from the suit of De Valence, on hisway to Guienne. Scared at the tempest, the female attendants of LadyHelen had abandoned themselves to shrieks of despair; but she, insensible to anything but grief, lay in perfect stillness in thelitter that conveyed her. As Grimsby approached the travelers, DeValence demanded his assistance to conduct them to a place of shelter. Chateau Galliard was the nearest residence fit to receive the earl andhis train. Thither the soldier led them, and heard from the servantsthat the lady in the vehicle was their lord's wife, and a lunatic. Grimsby remained in the chateau, because he had nowhere else to go; andby accidental speeches from the lady's attendants soon found that shewas not married to the earl; and was not only perfectly sane, but oftenmost cruelly treated. Her name he had never learned until the lastevening, when, carrying some wine into the banqueting-room, he heard DeValence mention it to the other stranger knight. He then retired fullof horror, resolving to essay her rescue himself; but the unexpectedsight of the two knights in the hall determined him to reveal the caseto them. "This, " added Grimsby, "is my story; and whoever you are, noble lord, if you think me not unworthy your protection, grant it, andyou shall find me faithful unto death. "

"I owe you that, and more, " replied the chief; "I am that Wallace onwhose account you fled your country; and if you be willing to share thefortunes of one who may live and die in camps, I pledge you that mybest destiny shall be yours. " Could Grimsby in his joyful surprisehave thrown himself at the feet of Wallace, he would have done so; buttaking hold of the end of his scarf, he pressed it enthusiastically tohis lips, and exclaimed:

"Bravest of the brave, this is beyond my prayers; to meet here thetriumphant lord of Scotland! I fell innocently into disgrace; ah! howam I now exalted unto honor! My country would have deprived me oflife; I am therefore dead to it, and live only to gratitude and you!"

"Then, " replied Wallace, "as the first proof of the confidence I reposein you, know that the young chief who is riding forward with Lady Helenis Robert Bruce, the Prince of Scotland. Our next enterprise is toplace him upon the throne of his ancestors. Meanwhile, till we licenseyou to do otherwise, keep our names a secret, and call us by those wemay hereafter think fit to assume. "

Grimsby, once more reinstated in the station he deserved--that of trustand respect--no longer hung his head in abject despondency; but lookingerect as one born again from disgrace, he became the active, cheerful, and faithful servant of Wallace. 

During Wallace's conversation with the soldier, Helen was listeningwith delight to the encomiums which Bruce passed upon his friend andchampion. As his eloquent tongue described the merits of Wallace, andexpressed an ardent gratitude for his having so gloriously supplied hisplace to Scotland, Helen turned her eyes upon the prince. Before shehad scarcely remarked that he was more than young and handsome; butnow, while she contemplated the noble confidence which breathed inevery feature, she said to herself: "This man is worthy to be thefriend of Wallace! His soul is a mirror to reflect all the brightnessof Wallace's; ay, like as with the sun's rays, to kindle with heaven'sfire all on whom it turns. "

Bruce remarked the unusual animation of her eyes as she looked at him. 

"You feel all I say of Wallace, " said he. And it was not a charge atwhich she need blush. 

It was addressed to that perception of exalted worth which regardsneither sex nor age. Helen did not misapprehend him. The amiablefrankness of his manner seemed to open to him her heart. Wallace sheadored almost as a god; Bruce she could love as a brother. It requiresnot time nor proof to make virtuous hearts coalesce; there is alanguage without sounds, a recognition, independent of the visualorgan, which acknowledges the kindred of congenial souls almost in themoment they meet. "The virtuous mind knoweth its brother in the dark!" This was said by the man whose soul sympathized in every noble purposewith that of Wallace; while Helen, impelled by the same principle, andblushing with an emotion untainted by any sensation of shame, replied:

"I am too grateful to Heaven for having allowed me to witness thegoodness, to share the esteem of such a being--a man whose like I havenever seen. "

"He is one of the few, Lady Helen, " replied Bruce, "who is worthy of soaugust a title; and he brightly shows the image in which he was made;so humble, so dignified, so great, so lowly; so super-eminent in allaccomplishments of mind and body; wise, brave, and invincible; yetforbearing, gentle, and unassuming; formed to be beloved, yet without atouch of vanity; loving all who approach him, without the least alloyof passion. Ah! Lady Helen, he is a model after which I will fashionmy life; for he has written the character of the Son of God in hisheart, and it shall be my study to transcribe the blessed copy intomine!"

Tears of gratitude glittered in the eye, and on the smile of Helen. Toanswer Bruce she found to be impossible, but that her smile and lookwere appreciated by him, his own told her; and stretching out his handto her, as she put hers into his, he said:

"We are united in his heart, my sweet friend!"

At this moment Wallace joined them. He saw the action, and theanimation on each countenance, and looked at Bruce with a glance ofinquiry; but Bruce perceived nothing of a lover's jealousy in the look;it carried the wish of a friend to share what had impressed them withsuch happy traits. 

"We have been talking of you, " returned the prince, "and if to bebeloved is a source of joy, you must be peculiarly blessed. Theaffections of Lady Helen and myself have met, and made your heart thealtar on which we have pledged our fraternal love. "

Wallace regarded each with a look of tenderness. "It is my joy to loveyou both like a brother, but Lady Helen must consider me as even morethan that to her. I am her father's representative, I am the voice ofgrateful Scotland, thanking her for the preservation her generousexertions yielded! And to you, my prince, I am your friend, yoursubject--all that is devoted and true. "

Thus enjoying the dear communion of hearts, the interchange of mind, and mingling soul with soul, did these three friends journey toward thegates of Paris. Every hour seemed an age of blessedness to Helen, sogratefully did she enjoy each passing moment of a happiness that seemedto speak of Paradise. Nature never before appeared so beautiful in hereyes, the sky was more serene, the birds sung with sweeter notes, thelandscape shone in brighter charms; the fragrances of the flowersbathed her senses in the softest balm; and the very air as it breathedaround her, seemed fraught with life and joy. But Wallace animated thescene; and while she fancied that she inhaled his breath in everyrespiration, she moved as if on enchanted ground. Oh! she could havelingered there forever! and hardly did she know what it was to draw anybut sighs of bliss till she saw the towers of Paris embattling thehorizon. They reminded her that she was now going to be occasionallydivided from him; that when entered within those walls, it would nolonger be decorous for her to pass days and nights in listening to hisvoice, in losing all of woman's love in the beautified affection of anangel. 

This passion of the soul (if such it may be called), which has its risein virtue and its aim the same, would be most unjustly degraded were itclassed with what the herd generally entitle love. The love which menstigmatize, deride, and yet encourage, is a fancy, an infatuation, awakened by personal attraction, by--the lover knows not what, sometimes by gratified vanity, sometimes by idleness, and often by themost debasing propensities of human nature. Earthly it is, and untoearth it shall return! But love, true heaven-born love, that pureaffection which unites congenial spirits here, and with which theCreator will hereafter connect in one blessed fraternity the wholekindred of mankind, has but one cause--the universal unchangeablenessand immortality, a something so excellent that the simple wish topartake its essence in the union of affection, to facilitate and toshare its attainment of true and lasting happiness, invigorates ourvirtue and inspires our souls. These are the aims and joys of reallove. It has nothing selfish; in every desire it soars above thisearth; and anticipates, as the ultimatum of its joy, the moment when itshall meet its partner before the throne of God. Such was thesentiment of Helen toward Wallace. So unlike what she had seen inothers of the universal passion, she would hardly have acknowledged toherself that what she felt was love, had not the anticipation of evenan hour's separation from him, whispered the secret to her heart. 

CHAPTER LXV. 

Paris. 

When they were arrived within a short distance from Paris, Wallacewrote a few lines to King Philip, informing him who were the companionsof his journey, and that he would rest near the Abbey of St. Genevieveuntil he should receive his majesty's greetings to Bruce; also thequeen's granted protection for the daughter of the Earl of Mar. Grimsby was the bearer of this letter. He soon returned with an escortof honor, accompanied by Prince Louis himself. At sight of Wallace heflew into his arms, and after embracing him again and again with allthe unchecked ardor of youthful gratitude, he presented to him a packetfrom the king. 

It expressed the satisfaction of Philip at the near prospect of hisseeing the man whom he had so long admired, and whose valor had wroughthim such service as the preservation of his son. He then added that hehad other matters to thank him for when they should meet, and subjectsto discuss which would be much elucidated by the presence of Bruce. "According to your request, " continued he, "the name of neither shallbe made public at my court. My own family only know who are to be myillustrious guests. The queen is impatient to bid them welcome, and noless eager to greet the Lady Helen Mar with her friendship andprotection. "

A beautiful palfrey, superbly caparisoned, and tossing its fair neckamid the pride of its gorgeous chamfraine, was led forward by a page. Two ladies, also, bearing rich apparel for Helen, appeared in thetrain. When their errand was made known to Wallace, he communicated itto Helen. Her delicacy indeed wished to lay aside her page's apparelbefore she was presented to the queen; but she had been so happy whileshe wore it!

"Days have passed with me in these garments, " said she to herself, "which may never occur again!"

The laddies were conducted to her. They delivered a gracious messagefrom their royal mistress, and opened the caskets. Helen sighed; shecould urge nothing in opposition to their embassy, and reluctantlyassented to the change they were to make in her appearance. She stoodmute while they disarrayed her of her humble guise, and clothed her inthe robes of France. During their attendance, in the adulatory strainsof the court, they broke out in encomiums on the graces of her person;but to all this she turned an inattentive ear--her mind was absorbed inwhat she had enjoyed, in the splendid penance she might now undergo. 

One of the women was throwing the page's clothes carelessly into a bag, when Helen perceiving her, with ill-concealed eagerness, cried:

"Take care of that suit, it is more precious to me than gold or jewels. "

"Indeed!" answered the attendant, more respectfully folding it; "itdoes not seem of very rich silk. "

"Probably not, " returned Helen, "but it is valuable to me, and whereverI lodge, I will thank you to put it into my apartment. "

A mirror was now presented that she might see herself. She started atthe load of jewels with which they had adorned her, and while tearsfilled her eyes, she mildly said:

"I am a mourner, and these ornaments must not be worn by me. "

The ladies obeyed her wish to have them taken off, and with thoughtsdivided between her father and her father's friend, she was conductedtoward the palfrey. Wallace approached her, and Bruce flew forward, with his usual haste, to assist her; but it was no longer the beautifullittle page that met his view, the confidential and frank glance of ayouthful brother--it was a lovely woman arrayed in all the charms offemale apparel, trembling and blushing, as she again appeared as awoman before the eyes of the man she loved. Wallace sighed as hetouched her hand, for there was something in her air which seemed tosay, "I am not what I was a few minutes ago. " It was the aspect of theworld's austerity, the decorum of rank and situation--but not of theheart--that had never been absent from the conduct of Helen; had shebeen in the wilds of Africa, with no other companion than Wallace, still would those chaste reserves which lived in her soul have beenthere the guardian of her actions, for modesty was as much theattribute of her person, as magnanimity the character of her mind. 

Her more distant air at this time was the effect of reflections whilein the abbey where he had lodged her. She saw that the frankintercourse between them was to be interrupted by the forms of a court, and her manner insensibly assumed the demeanor she was so soon to wear. Bruce looked at her with delighted wonder. He had before admired heras beautiful, he now gazed on her as transcendently so. He checkedhimself in his swift step--he paused to look on her and Wallace, andcontemplating them with sentiments of unmingled admiration, thisexclamation unconsciously escaped him:

"How lovely!"

He could not but wish to see two such perfectly amiable and perfectlybeautiful beings united as closely by the bonds of the altar as hebelieved they were in heart, and he longed for the hour when he mightendow them with those proofs of his fraternal love which should classthem with the first of Scottish princes. 

"But how, " thought he, "can I ever sufficiently reward thee, Wallace, for what thou hast done for me and mine? Thy services are beyond allprice; thy soul is above even empires. Then how can I show thee allthat is in my heart for thee?"

While he thus apostrophized his friend, Wallace and Helen advancedtoward him. Bruce held out his hand to her with a cordial smile. 

"Lady Helen, we are still to be the same! Robes of no kind must everseparate the affections born in our pilgrimage!"

She put her hand into his with a glow of delight. 

"While Sir William Wallace allows me to call him brother, " answeredshe, "that will ever be a sanction to our friendship; but courts areformal places, and I now go to one. "

"And I will soon remove you to another, " replied he, "where"--hehesitated--looked at Wallace and then resumed: "where every wish of mysister Helen's heart shall be gratified, or I be no king. "

Helen blushed deeply and hastened toward the palfrey. Wallace placedher on the embroidered saddle, and Prince Louis preceding thecavalcade, it moved on. 

As Bruce vaulted into his seat he said something to his friend of theperfectly feminine beauty of Helen. 

"But her soul is fairer!" returned Wallace. 

The Prince of Scotland, with a gay but tender smile, softly whispered:

"Fair, doubly fair to you!"

Wallace drew a deep sigh. 

"I never knew but one woman who resembled her, and she did indeed excelall of created mold. From infancy to manhood I read every thought ofher angelic heart; I became the purer by the study, and I loved mymodel with an idolatrous adoration. There was my error! But thosesympathies, those hours are past. My heart will never throb as it hasthrobbed; never rejoice as it has rejoiced; for she who lived but forme, who doubled all my joys, is gone! Oh, my prince, though blessedwith friendship, there are times when I feel that I am solitary!"

Bruce looked at him with some surprise. 

"Solitary, Wallace! can you ever be solitary, and near Helen of Mar?"

"Perhaps more so then than at any other time; for her beauties, herexcellences, remind me of what were once mine, and recall every regret. Oh, Bruce! thou canst not comprehend my loss! To mingle thought withthought, and soul with soul, for years; and then, after blending ourvery beings, and feeling as if indeed made one, to be separated--and bya stroke of violence! This was a trial of the spirit which, but forHeaven's mercy, would have crushed me. I live, but still my heart willmourn, mourn her I have lost--and mourn that my rebellious nature willnot be more resigned to the judgments of its God. "

"And is love so constant, so tenacious?" exclaimed Bruce; "is it toconsume your youth, Wallace? Is it to wed such a heart as yours to thetomb? Ah! am I not to hope that the throne of my children may beupheld by a race of thine?"

Wallace shook his head, but with a placid firmness replied:

"Your throne and your children's, if they follow your example, will beupheld by Heaven; but should they pervert themselves, a host of mortalsupports would not be sufficient to stay their downfall. "

In discourse like this, the youthful Prince of Scotland caught aclearer view of the inmost thoughts of his friend than he had been ableto discern before; for war, or Bruce's own interests, havingparticularly engaged them in all their former conversations, Wallacehad never been induced to glance at the private circumstances of hishistory. While Bruce sighed in tender pity for the captivated heart ofHelen, he the more deeply revered, more intensely loved, his sufferingand heroic friend. 

A few hours brought the royal escort to the Louvre; and through a trainof nobles, Helen was led by Prince Louis into the regal saloon. TheScottish chiefs followed. The queen and the Count D'Evereux receivedBruce and Helen, while De Valois conducted Wallace to the king, who hadretired for the purpose of this conference to his closet. 

At sight of the armor which he had sent to the preserver of his son, Philip instantly recognized the Scottish hero, and rising from hisseat, hastened forward and clasped him in his arms. "Wonder not, august chief, " exclaimed he, "at the weakness exhibited in these eyes!It is the tribute of nature to a virtue which loads even kings withbenefits. You have saved my son's life; you have preserved from taintthe honor of my sister!" Philip then proceeded to inform his auditorthat he had heard from a confessor of Queen Margaret's, just arrivedfrom England, all that had lately happened at Edward's court; and ofWallace's letter, to clear the innocence of that injured princess. "She is perfectly reinstated in the king's confidence, " added Philip, "but I can never pardon the infamy with which he would have overwhelmedher; nay, it has already dishonored her, for the blasting effects ofslander no time nor labor can erase. I yield to the prayers of my toogentle sister, not to openly resent this wrong, but in private he shallfeel a brother's indignation. I do not declare war against him, butask what you will, bravest of men, and were it to place the crown ofScotland on your head, demand it of me, and by my concealed agency itshall be effected. "

The reply of Wallace was simple. He claimed no merit in the justice hehad done the Queen of England; neither in his rescue of Prince Louis, but as a proof of King Philip's friendship, he gladly embraced hisoffered services with regard to Scotland. 

"Not, " added he, "to send troops into that country against England. Scotland is now free of its Southron invaders; all I require is thatyou will use your royal influence with Edward to allow it to remain so. Pledge your faith, most gracious monarch, with my master the royallydescended Bruce, who is now in your palace. He will soon assume thecrown that is his right; and with such an ally as France to hold theambition of Edward in check, we may certainly hope that the bloodyfeuds between Scotland and England may at last be laid to rest. "

Wallace explained to Philip the dispositions of the Scots, the natureof Bruce's claims, and the transcendent virtues of his youthfulcharacter. The monarch took fire at the speaker's enthusiasm, and, giving him his hand, exclaimed:

"Wallace, I know not what manner of man you are! You seem born todictate to kings, while you put aside as things of no moment the crownsoffered to yourself. You are young and, marveling, I would say withoutambition, did I not know that your deeds and your virtues have set youabove all earthly titles. But to convince me that you do not disdainthe gratitude we pay, at least accept a name in my country; and know, that the armor you wear, the coronet around your helmet, invest youwith the rank of a prince of France, and the title of Count of Gascony. "

To have refused this mark of the monarch's esteem would have been anact of churlish pride foreign from the character of Wallace. Hegraciously accepted the offered distinction, and bowing his head, allowed the king to throw the brilliant collar of Gascony over his neck. 

This act was performed by Philip with all the emotions of disinterestedesteem. But when he had proposed it to his brother D'Evereux, as theonly way he could devise of rewarding Wallace for the preservation ofhis son, and the honor of their sister, he was obliged to urge insupport of his wish, the desire he had to take the first opportunity ofbeing revenged on Edward by the reseizure of Guienne. To have SirWilliam Wallace lord of Gascony would then be of the greatest advantageas no doubt could be entertained of his arms soon restoring the sisterprovince to the French monarchy. In such a case, Philip promised tobestow Guienne on his brother D'Evereux. 

To attach this new count to France was now all the wish of Philip, andhe closed the conference with every expression of friendship which mancould deliver to man. Wallace lost not the opportunity of pleading forthe abdicated King of Scots; and Philip, eager as well to evince hisresentment to Edward as to oblige Wallace, promised to send immediateorders to Normandy that De Valence should leave Chateau Galliard, andBaliol be attended with his former state. 

The king then led his guest into the royal saloon, where they found thequeen seated between Bruce and Helen. At sight of the Scottish chiefher majesty rose. Philip led him up to her; and Wallace, bending hisknee, put the fair hand extended to his lips. 

"Welcome, " said she, "bravest of knights; receive a mother's thanks. "Tears of gratitude stood in her eyes. She clasped the hand of her sonand his together, and added, "Louis, wherever our Count of Gasconyadvises you to pledge this hand, give it. "

"Then it will follow mine!" cried the king, putting his into that ofBruce; "You are Wallace's acknowledged sovereign, young prince, and youshall ever find brothers in me and my son! Sweet lady, " added he, turning to the glowing Helen, "thanks to your charms for having drawnthis friend of mankind to bless our shores!"

The court knew Wallace merely as Count of Gascony; and, to preserve anequal concealment, Bruce assumed the name of the young De Longueville, whom Prince Louis had, in fact, allowed to leave him on the road toParis to retire to Chartres, there to pass a year of mourning withinits penitential monastery. Only two persons ever came to the Louvrewho could recognize Bruce to be other than he seemed, and they were, John Cummin, the elder twin brother of the present Regent of Scotland, and James Lord Douglas. The former had remained in France, out ofdislike to his brother's proceedings, and as Bruce knew him in Guienne, and believed him to be a blunt, well-meaning young man, he saw nodanger in trusting him. The brave son of William Douglas wasaltogether of a nobler mettle, and both Wallace and his prince rejoicedat the prospect of receiving him to their friendship. 

Philip opened the affair to the two lords; and having declared hisdesigns in favor of Bruce, conducted them into t he queen's room, andpointing where he stood, "There, " cried he, "is the King of Scotland. "

Douglas and Cummin would have bent their knees to their young monarch, but Bruce hastily caught their hands, and prevented them:

"My friends, " said he, "regard me as your fellow-soldier only, till yousee me on the throne of my fathers. Till then, that is our prince, "added he, looking on Wallace; "he is my leader, my counselor, myexample! And, if you love me, he must be yours. "

Douglas and Cummin turned toward Wallace at these words. Royalty didindeed sit on his brow, but with a tempered majesty which spoke only inlove and honor. From the resplendent countenance of Bruce it smiledand threatened, for the blaze of his impassioned nature was not yetsubdued. The queen looked from one to the other. The divinelycomposed air of Wallace seemed to her the celestial port of someheaven-descended being, lent awhile to earth to guide the steps of thePrince of Scotland. She had read, in Homer's song, of the deity ofwisdom assuming the form of Mentor to protect the son of Ulysses, andhad it not been for the youth of the Scottish chief, she would havesaid, here is the realization of the tale. 

Helen had eyes for none but Wallace. Nobles, princes, kings, were allinvolved in one uninteresting mass to her when he was present. Yet shesmiled on Douglas when she heard him express his gratitude to thechampion of Scotland for the services he had done a country for whichhis own father had died. Cummin, when he paid his respects to Wallace, told him that he did so with double pleasure, since he had twounquestionable evidences of his unequaled merit--the confidence of hisfather, the Lord Badenoch, and the hatred of his brother, the presentusurper of that title. 

The king soon after led his guests to the council-room, where a secretcabinet was to be held, to settle the future bonds between the twokingdoms; and Helen, looking long after the departing figure ofWallace, with a pensive step followed the queen to her apartment. 

Chapter LXVI. 

The Louvre. 

These preliminaries of lasting friendship being arranged, and sworn toby Philip, Wallace dispatched a messenger to Scotland, to Lord Ruthven, at Huntingtower, informing him of the present happy dispositions withregard to Scotland. He made particular inquiries respecting the stateof the public mind; and declared his intention not to introduce Bruceamongst the cabals of his chieftains until he knew exactly how theywere all disposed. Some weeks passed before a reply to this letterarrived. During the time, the health of Helen, which had been muchimpaired by the sufferings inflicted on her by De Valence, graduallyrecovered, and her beauty became as much the admiration of the Frenchnobles as her meek dignity was of their respect. A new scene ofroyalty presented itself in this gay court to Wallace, for all waspageant and chivalric gallantry; but it had no other effect on him thanthat of exciting those benevolent affections which rejoiced in theinnocent gayeties of his fellow-beings. His gravity was not that of acynic. Though hilarity never awakened his mind to buoyant mirth, yethe loved to see it in others, and smiled when others laughed. 

With a natural superiority, which looked over these court pastimes toobjects of greater moment, Bruce merely endured them; but it was withan urbanity congenial with his friend's, and while the princes ofFrance were treading the giddy mazes of the dance, or tilting at eachother in the mimic war of the tournament, the Prince of Scotland, whoexcelled in all these exercises, left the field of gallantryundisputed, and moved an uninterested spectator in the splendid scene, talking with Wallace or with Helen on events which yet lay in fate, andwhose theater would be the field of his native land. So accustomed hadthe friends now been to share their thoughts with Lady Helen, that theyimparted to her their plans, and listened with pleasure to her timidyet judicious remarks. Her soul was inspired with the same zeal forScotland which animated their own breasts; like Bruce's it was ardent;but, like Wallace's, it was tempered with a moderation which, givingher foresight, freed her opinion from the hazard of rashness. What hepossessed by the suggestions of genius, or had acquired by experience, she learned from love. It taught her to be careful for the safety ofWallace; and while she saw that his life must often be put in peril forScotland, her watchful spirit, with an eagle's ken, perceived and gavewarning where his exposure might incur danger without adequateadvantage. 

The winds of this season of the year being violent and often adverse. Wallace's messenger did not arrive at his destined port in Scotlandtill the middle of November, and the January of 1299 had commencedbefore his returning bark entered the mouth of the Seine. 

Wallace was alone, with Grimsby, opening the door, announced Sir EdwinRuthven. In a moment the friends were locked in each other's arms. Edwin, straining Wallace to his heart, reproached him in affectionateterms for having left him behind; but while he spoke, joy shone throughthe tears which hung on his eyelids, and with the smiles of fraternallove, again and again he kissed his friend's hand, and pressed it tohis bosom. Wallace answered his glad emotions with similardemonstrations of affection, and when the agitations of their meetingwere subdued, he learned from Edwin that he had left the messenger atsome distance on the road, so impatient was he to embrace his friendagain, and to congratulate his dear cousin on her escape. 

Edwin answered the anxious inquiries of Wallace respecting his country, by informing him that Badenoch, having arrogated to himself the supremepower in Scotland, had determined to take every advantage of the lastvictory gained over King Edward. In this resolution he was supportedby the Lords Athol, Buchan, and Soulis, who were returned, full ofindignation from the Court of Durham. Edward removed to London; andBadenoch, soon hearing that he was preparing other armies for thesubjugation of Scotland, sent embassadors to the Vatican to solicit thePope's interference. Flattered by this appeal, Boniface wrote a letterto Edward, exhorting him to refrain from Further oppressing a countryover which he had no lawful power. Edward's answer was full ofartifice and falsehood, every good principle, and declaring hisdetermination to consolidate Great Britain into one kingdom, or to makethe northern part one universal grave. ** Wallace sighed as he listened. 

**Both these curious letters are extant in Hollingshed. 

"Ah! my dear Edwin, " said he, "how just is the observation, that thealmost total neglect of truth and justice, which the generality ofstatesmen discover in their transactions with each other, is anunaccountable to reason as it is dishonorable and ruinous! It is onesource of the misery of the human race--a misery in which millions areinvolved, without any compensation; for it seldom happens that thisdishonesty contributes ultimately even to the interests of the princeswho thus basely sacrifice their integrity to their ambition. Butproceed, my friend. "

"The speedy consequence of this correspondence, " Edwin continued, "wasa renewal of hostilities against Scotland. Badenoch took Sir SimonFraser as his colleague in military duty, and a stout resistance for alittle while was made on the borders; but Berwick soon became the preyof Lord Percy, and the brave Lord Dundaff was killed defending thecitadel. Many other places fell, and battles were fought, in which theEnglish were everywhere victorious; for, " added Edwin, "none of yourgenerals would draw a sword under the command of Badenoch; and, alarmedat these disasters, the Bishop of Dunkeld is gone to Rome, to entreatthe Pope to order your return. The Southrons are advancing intoScotland in every direction. They have landed again on the easterncoast; they have possessed themselves of all the border counties; andwithout your Heaven-anointed arm to avert the blow, our country must beirretrievably lost. "

Edwin had brought letters from Ruthven and the young Earl of Bothwell, which none particularly narrated these ruinous events, to enforce everyargument to Wallace for his return. They gave it as their opinion, however, that he must revisit Scotland under an assumed name. Did hecome openly, the jealousy of the Scottish lords would be reawakened, and the worst of them might put a finishing stroke to their country bytaking him off by assassination or poison. Ruthven and Bothwell, therefore, entreated that, as it was his wisdom as well as his valortheir country required, he would hasten to Scotland, and condescend toserve her unrecognized till Bruce should be established on the throne. 

While Edwin was conducted to the apartments of Lady Helen, Wallace tookthese letters to his prince. On Bruce being informed of thecircumstances in which his country lay, and of the wishes of its mostvirtuous chiefs for his accession to the crown, he assented to theprudence of their advice with regard to Wallace. "But, " added he, "ourfortunes must be in every respect, as far as we can mold them, thesame. While you are to serve Scotland under a cloud, so will I. Atthe moment Bruce is proclaimed King of Scotland, Wallace shall bedeclared its bravest friend. We will go together--as brothers, if youwill!" continued he. "I am already considered by the French nobilityas Thomas de Longueville; you may personate the Red Reaver; Scotlanddoes not yet know that he was slain; and the reputation of his valorand a certain nobleness in his wild warfare having placed him, in theestimation of our shores, rather in the light of one of their ownisland sea-kings than in that of his real character--a gallant, thoughfierce pirate--the aid of his name would bring no evil odor to ourjoint appearance. But were you to wear the title you bear here, aquarrel might ensue between Philip and Edward, which I perceive theformer is not willing should occur openly. Edward must deem it abreach of their amity did his brother-in-law permit a French prince toappear in arms against him in Scotland; but the Reaver being consideredin England as outlawed by France, no surprise can be excited that heand his brother should fight against Philip's ally. We will, then, assume their characters; and I shall have the satisfaction of servingfor Scotland before I claim her as my own. When we again drive Edwardover the boarders, on that day we will throw off our visors, and SirWilliam Wallace shall place the crown on my head. "

Wallace could not but approve the dignity of mind which thesesentiments displayed. In the same situation they would have been hisown; and he sought not, from any motive of policy, to dissuade Brucefrom a delicacy of conduct which drew him closer to his heart. Sympathy of tastes is a pleasant attraction; but congeniality ofprinciples is the cement of souls. This Wallace felt in his new-bornfriendship with Bruce; and though his regard for him had none of thatfostering tenderness with which he loved to contemplate the bloomingvirtues of the youthful Edwin, yet it breathed every endearment arisingfrom a perfect equality in heart and mind. It was the true fraternaltie; and while he talked with him on the fulfillment of theirenterprise, he inwardly thanked Heaven for blessing him so abundantly. He had found a son in Edwin; a brother, and a tender sister in thenoble Bruce and lovely Helen. 

Bruce received Edwin with a welcome which convinced the before anxiousyouth that he met a friend, rather than a rival, in the heart ofWallace. And every preliminary being settled by the three friendsrespecting their immediate return to Scotland, they repaired to Philip, to inform him of Lord Ruthven's dispatches and their consequentresolutions. 

The king liked all they said, excepting their request to be permittedto take an early leave of his court. He urged them to wait the returnof a second embassador he had sent to England. Immediately onWallace's arrival, Philip had dispatched a request to the English king, that he would grant the Scots the peace which was their right. Notreceiving any answer, he sent another messenger with a more categoricaldemand. The persevered hostilities of Edward against Scotlandexplained the delay; but the king yet hoped for a favorable reply, andmade such entreaties to Bruce and his friend to remain in Paris till itshould arrive, that they at last granted a reluctant consent. 

At the end of a week, the embassador returned with a conciliatoryletter to Philip; but, affirming Edward's right to Scotland, declaredhis determination never to lay down his arms till he had again broughtthe whole realm under his scepter. 

Wallace and his royal friend now saw no reason for lingering in France;and having visited the young De Longueville at Chartres, they apprisedhim of their intention to still further borrow his name. "We will notdisgrace it, " cried Bruce; "I promised to return it to you, a theme foryour country's minstrels. " When the friends rose to depart, the braveand youthful penitent grasped their hands: "You go, valiant Scots, tocover with a double glory, in the field of honor, a name which myunhappy brother Guy dyed deep in his own country's blood! The tears Iweep before this cross for his and my transgressions have obtained memercy; and your design is an earnest to me from Him who hung on thissacred tree, that my brother also is forgiven. "

At an early hour next day, Wallace and Bruce took leave of the Frenchking. The queen kissed Helen affectionately, and whispered, while shetied a jeweled collar round her neck, that when she returned, she hopedto add to it the coronet of Gascony. Helen's only reply was a sigh, and her eyes turned unconsciously on Wallace. He was clad in a plainsuit of black armor, with a red plume in his helmet--the ensign of theReaver, whose name he had assumed. All of his former habit that he nowwore about him, was the sword which he had taken from Edward. At themoment Helen looked toward Wallace, Prince Louis was placing across-hilted dagger in his girdle. "My deliverer, " said he, "wear thisfor the sake of the descendant of St. Louis. It accompanied that holyking through all his wars in Palestine. It twice saved him from theassassin's steel; and I pray Heaven it may prove as faithful to you. "**

**The author was shown the dagger of Wallace by a friend. It was ofvery strong but simple workmanship, and could be used as a knife aswell as a weapon. 

Soon after this, Douglas and Cummin entered, to pay their partingrespects to the king; and that over, Wallace taking Helen by the hand, led her forth, followed by Bruce and his friends. 

At Havre, they embarked for the Frith of Tay; and a favorable gatedriving them through the straits of Calais, they launched out into thewide ocean. 

Chapter LXVII. 

Scotland. 

The eighth morning from the day in which the Red Reaver's ship wasrelaunched from the Norman harbor, Wallace, now the representative ofthat once formidable pirate, bearing the white flag of good faith, entered between the castled shores of the Frith of Tay, and cast anchorunder the towers of Dundee. 

When Bruce leaped upon the beach, he turned to Wallace and said withexultation, though in a low voice, "Scotland now receives her king!This earth shall cover me, or support my throne!"

"It shall support your throne, and bless it too, " replied Wallace; "youare come in the power of justice, and that is the power of God. I knowHim in whom I bid you confide; for He has been my shield and sword, andnever yet have I turned my back upon my enemies. Trust, my dearprince, where I have trusted; and while virtue is your incense, youneed not doubt the issue of your prayers. "

Had Wallace seen the face of Bruce at that moment, but the visorconcealed it, he would have beheld an answer in his eloquent eyes whichrequired not words to explain. He grasped the hand of Wallace withfervor, and briefly replied, "Your trust shall be my trust!"

The chiefs did not stay longer at Dundee than was requisite to furnishthem with horses to convey them to Perth, where Ruthven still boresway. When they arrived, he was at Huntingtower, and thither theywent. The meeting was fraught with many mingled feelings. Helen hadnot seen her uncle since the death of her father; and, as soon as thefirst gratulations were over, she retired to an apartment to weep alone. 

On Cummin's being presented to Lord Ruthven, the earl told him he mustnow salute him as Lord Badenoch, his brother having been killed a fewdays before in a skirmish on the skirts of Ettrick Forest. Ruthventhen turned to welcome the entrance of Bruce, who, raising his visor, received from the loyal chief the homage due to his sovereign dignity. Wallace and the prince soon engaged him in a discourse immediatelyconnected with the design of their return; and learned that Scotlanddid indeed require the royal arm, and the counsel of its best andlately almost banished friend. Much of the eastern part of the countrywas again in possession of Edward's generals. They had seized on everycastle in the Lowlands; none having been considered too insignificantto escape their hands. Nor could the quiet of reposing age elude thegeneral devastation; and after a dauntless defense of his castle, theveteran Knight of Thirlestane had fallen, and with him his only son. On hearing this disaster, the sage of Ercildown, having meanwhileprotected Lady Isabella mar at Learmont, conveyed her northward; butfalling sick at Roslyn, he had stopped there; and the messenger hedispatched to Huntingtower with these calamitous tidings (who happenedto be that brave young Gordon whose borrowed breastplate had been thatof Bruce's, in his first battle for Scotland!), bore also informationthat besides several parties of the enemy which were hovering on theheights near Roslyn, an immense army was approaching fromNorthumberland. Ercildown said he understood Sir Simon Fraser washastening forward with a small body to attempt cutting off theseadvanced squadrons; but, he added, while the contentions continuedbetween Athol and Soulis for the vacant regency, no man could have hopeof any steady stand against England. 

At this communication, Cummin bluntly proposed himself as theterminator of this dispute. "If the regency were allowed to my brotheras head of the house of Cummin, that dignity now rests with me. Givethe word, my sovereign, " said he, addressing Bruce, "and none thereshall dare oppose my rights. " Ruthven approved this proposal; andWallace, deeming it not only the best way of silencing the pretensionsof those old disturbers of the public tranquility, but a happyopportunity of putting the chief magistracy into the hands of aconfidant of their design, seconded the advice of Ruthven. Thus JohnCummin, Lord Badenoch, was invested with the regency, and immediatelydispatched to the army, to assume it as if in right of his being thenext heir to the throne in default of the Bruce. 

Wallace sent Lord Douglas privately into Clydesdale, to inform EarlBothwell of his arrival, and to request his instant presence with theLanark division and his own troops on the banks of the Eske. Ruthvenascended the Grampians, to call out the numerous clans of Perthshire, and Wallace, with his prince, prepared themselves for meeting theauxiliaries before the towers of Roslyn. Meanwhile, as Huntingtowerwould be an insecure asylum for Helen, when it must be left todomestics alone, Wallace proposed to Edwin that he should escort hiscousin to Braemar, and place her under the care of his mother and thewidowed countess. "Thither, " continued he, "we will send Lady Isabellaalso, should Heaven bless our arms at Roslyn. " Edwin acquiesced, as hewas to return with all speed to join his friend on the southern bank ofthe Forth; and Helen, aware that scenes of blood were no scenes forher, while her heart was wrung to agony at the thought of relinquishingWallace to new dangers, yielded a reluctant assent, not merely to go, but to take that look of him which might be the last. 

The sight of her uncle, and the objects around, had so recalled theimage of her father, that ever since her arrival a foreboding sadnesshad hung over her spirits. She remembered that a few months ago shehad seen that beloved parent go out to battle, whence he neverreturned. Should the same doom await her with regard to Wallace! Theidea shook her frame with an agitation that sunk her, in spite ofherself, on the bosom of this trust of friends, when Edwin approachedto lead her to her horse. Her emotions penetrated the heart againstwhich she leaned. 

"My gentle sister, " said Wallace, "do not despair of our final success;of the safety of all whom you regard. "

"Ah! Wallace, " faltered she, in a voice rendered hardly audible bytears, "but did I not lose my father?"

"Sweet Helen, " returned he, tenderly grasping her trembling hand, "youlost him, but he gained by the exchange. And should the peace ofScotland be purchased by the lives of your friends--if Bruce survives, you must still think your prayers blessed. Were I to fall, my sister, my sorrows would be over; and from the region of universal blessednessI should enjoy the sight of Scotland's happiness. "

"Were we all to enter those regions at one time, " faintly repliedHelen, "there would be comfort in such thoughts; but as it is--" Hereshe paused; tears stopped her utterance. "A few years is a shortseparation, " returned Wallace, "when we are hereafter to be united toall eternity. This is my consolation, when I think of Marion--whenmemory dwells with the friends lost in these dreadful conflicts; andwhatever may be the fate of those who now survive, call to remembrancemy words, dear Helen, and the God who was my instructor will send youcomfort. "

"Then farewell, my friend, my brother!" cried she, forcibly tearingherself away, and throwing herself into the arms of Edwin; "leave menow; and the angel of the just will bring you in glory, here orhereafter, to your sister Helen. " Wallace fervently kissed the handshe again extended to him; and, with an emotion which he had thought hewould never feel again for mortal woman, left the apartment. 

Chapter LXVIII. 

Roslyn. 

The day after the departure of Helen, Bruce became impatient to takethe field; and, to indulge this laudable eagerness, Wallace set forthwith him to meet the returning steps of Ruthven and his gatheredlegions. 

Having passed along the borders of Invermay, the friends descendedtoward the precipitous banks of the Earn, at the foot of the Grampians. In these green labyrinths they wound their way, till Bruce, who hadnever before been in such mountain wilds, expressed a fear that Wallacehad mistaken the track; for this seemed far from any human footstep. 

Wallace replied, with a smile. "The path is familiar to me as thegarden of Huntingtower. "

The day, which had been cloudy, suddenly turned to wind and rain, whichcertainly spread an air of desolation over the scene, very dreary to aneye accustomed to the fertile plains and azure skies of the south. Thewhole of the road was rough, dangerous, and dreadful. The steep andblack rocks, towering above their heads, seemed to threaten theprecipitation of their impending masses into the path below. ButWallace had told Bruce they were in the right track, and he gailybreasted both the storm and the perils of the road. They ascended amountain, whose enormous piles of granite, torn by many a wintertempest, projected their barren summits from a surface of moorland, onwhich lay a deep incrustation of snow. The blast now blew a tempest, and the rain and sleet beat so hard, that Bruce, laughing, declared hebelieved the witches of his country were in league with Edward, and, hid in shrouds of mist, were all assembled here to drive their lawfulprince into the roaring cataracts beneath. 

Thus enveloped in a sea of vapors, with torrents of water pouring downthe sides of their armor, did the friends descend the western brow ofthis part of the Grampians until they approached Loch Earn. They hadhardly arrived there before the rain ceased, and the clouds, rollingaway from the sides of the mountains, discovered the vast andprecipitous Ben Vorlich. Its base was covered with huge masses ofcliffs, scattered in fragments, like the wreck of some rocky world, andspread abroad in wide and horrid desolation. The mountain itself, thehighest in this chain of the Grampians, was in every part marked bydeep and black ravines, made by the rushing waters in the time offloods; but where its blue head mingled with the clouds, a stream ofbrightness issued that seemed to promise the dispersion of its vapors;and consequently a more secure path for Wallace, to lead his friendover its perilous heights. **

**This description of Ben Vorlich, written ten years before the journeyof the author's brother, Sir. R. K. Porter, into Armenia and Persia, onher reperusing it now, while revising these volumes, reminds herstrongly of his account of the appearance of Mount Arafat, as he saw itunder a storm, and which he describes with so much, she must be allowedto say, sacred interest, in his travels through thosecountries. --(1840. )

This appearance did not deceive. The whole mantle of clouds, withwhich the tops of all the mountains had been obscured, rolled awaytoward the west, and discovered to the eye of Wallace that this line oflight which he had discerned through the mist, was the host of Ruthvendescending Ben Vorlich in defiles. From the nature of the path, theywere obliged to move in a winding direction, and as the sun now shonefull upon their arms, and their lengthened lines gradually extendedfrom the summit of the mountain to its base, no sight could containmore of the sublime, none of truer grandeur to the enraptured mind ofBruce. He forgot his horror of the wastes he had passed over in thejoy of beholding so noble an army of his countrymen thus approaching toplace him upon the throne of his ancestors. "Wallace, " cried he, "these brave hearts deserve a more cheerful home! My scepter must turnthis Scotia desrta into Scotia felix; and so shall I reward the servicethey this day bring me. "

"They are happy in these wilds, " returned Wallace, "their flocks browsethe hills, their herds the valleys. The soil yields sufficient tosupport its sons; and their luxuries are, a minstrel's song and the lipof their brides. Their ambition is satisfied with following theirchief to the field; and their honor lies in serving their God andmaintaining the freedom of their country. Beware, then, my dearprince, of changing the simple habits of those virtuous mountaineers. Introduce the luxurious cultivation of France into these tracts, youwill infect them with artificial wants; and, with every want, you put alink to a chain which will fasten them to bondage whenever a tyrantchooses to grasp it. Leave them then their rocks as you find them, andyou will ever have a hardy race, ready to perish in their defense, orto meet death for the royal guardian of their liberties. "

Lord Ruthven no sooner reached the banks of Loch Earn, than he espiedthe prince and Wallace. He joined them; then marshaling his men in awide tract of land at the head of that vast body of water, placedhimself with the two supposed De Longuevilles in the van; and in thisarray marched through the valleys of Strathmore and Strathallen, intoStirlingshire. The young Earl of Fife held the government of thecastle and town of Stirling; and as he had been a zealous supporter ofthe rebellious Lord Badenoch, Bruce negatized Ruthven's proposal tosend in a messenger for the earl's division of the troops. 

"No, my lord, " said he, "like my friend Wallace, I will have no dividedspirits near me; all must be earnest in my cause, or entirely out ofthe contest. I am content with the brave men around me. "

After rapid marchings and short haltings, they arrived safe atLinlithgow, where Wallace proposed staying a night to refresh thetroops, who were now joined by Sir Alexander Ramsay, at the head of athousand of his clan. While the men took rest, the chiefs waked tothink for them. And Wallace, with Bruce and Ruthven, and the braveRamsay (to whom Wallace had revealed himself, but still kept Bruceunknown), were in deep consultation when Grimsby entered to inform hismaster that a young knight desired to speak with Sir Guy de Longueville. 

"His name?" demanded Wallace. 

"He refused to tell it, " replied Grimsby, "and wears his beaver shut. "

Wallace looked around with a glance that inquired whether the strangershould be admitted. 

"Certainly, " said Bruce, "but first put on your mask. "

Wallace closed his visor, and the moment after Grimsby reentered, witha knight of elegant mien, habited in a suit of green armor, linked withgold. He wore a close helmet, from which streamed a long feather, ofthe same hue. Wallace rose at his entrance; the stranger advanced tohim. 

"You are he whom I seek. I am a Scot, and a man of few words. Acceptmy services, allow me to attend you in this war, and I will serve youfaithfully. "

Wallace replied: "And who is the brave knight to whom Sir Guy deLongueville must owe so great an obligation?"

"My name, " answered the stranger, "shall not be revealed till he whonow wears that of the Reaver proclaims his own in the day of victory. I know you, sir, but your secret is as safe with me as in your ownbreast. Place me to fight by your side, and I am yours forever. "

Wallace was surprised, but not confounded by this speech. "I have onlyone question to ask you, noble stranger, " replied he, "before I confidea cause dearer to me than life in your integrity. How did you becomemaster of a secret, which I believed out of the power of treachery tobetray?"

"No one betrayed your secret to me. I came by my information in anhonorable manner, but the means I shall not reveal till I see the timeto declare my name, and that, perhaps, may be in the moment when theassumed brother of yon young Frenchman, " added the stranger, turning toBruce, and lowering his voice, "again appears publicly in Scotland, asSir William Wallace. "

"I am satisfied, " replied he, well pleased that whoever this knightmight be, Bruce yet remained undiscovered; "I grant your request. Yonbrave youth, whose name I share, forgives me the success of my sword. I slew the red Reaver, and therefore would restore a brother to Thomasde Longueville, in myself. He fights on my right hand, you shall bestationed at my left. "

"On the side next your heart!" exclaimed the stranger, "let that everbe my post, there to guard the bulwark of Scotland, the life of thebravest of men. "

This enthusiasm did not surprise any present; it was the usual languageof all who approached Sir William Wallace; and Bruce, particularlypleased with the heartfelt energy with which it was uttered, forgot hisdisguise in the amiable fervor of approbation, and half arose towelcome him to his cause; but a look from Wallace (who on being knownhad uncovered his face), arrested his intention and the prince sat downagain, thankful for so timely a check on his precipitancy. 

In passing the Pentland Hills, into Mid-Lothian, the chiefs were met byEdwin, who had crossed from the north by the Frith of Forth; and havingheard no tidings of the Scottish army in the neighborhood of Edinburgh, he had turned to meet it on the most probably road. Wallace introducedhim to the Knight of the Green Plume, for that was the appellation bywhich the stranger desired to be known--and then made inquiries howLady Helen had borne the fatigues of her journey to Braemar. "Prettywell there, " replied he, "but much better back again. " He thenexplained that on his arrival with her, neither Lady Mar nor his motherwould consent to remain so far from the spot where Wallace was tocontend again for the safety of their country. Helen did not sayanything in opposition to their wishes; and at last Edwin yielded tothe entreaties and tears of his mother and aunt, to bring them to wherethey might, at least, not long endure the misery of suspense. Havingconsented, without an hour's delay, he set forth with the ladies, toretrace his steps to Huntingtower; and there he left them, under aguard of three hundred men, whom he brought from Braemar for thatpurpose. 

Bruce, whose real name had not been revealed to the other ladies ofRuthven's family, in a lowered tone, asked Edwin some questionsrelative to the spirits in which Helen had parted with him. "In losingher, " added he, "my friend and I feel but as part of what we were. Herpresence seemed to ameliorate the fierceness of our war-councils, andever reminded me of the angelic guard by whom Heaven points our way. "

"I left her with looks like the angel you speak of, " answered Edwin;"but she bade me farewell upon the platform of the eastern tower of thecastle. When I gave her the parting embrace, she raised herself frommy breast, and stretching her arms to heave, with her pure soul in hereyes, she exclaimed, 'Bless him, gracious God; bless him, and his noblecommander! may they ever, with the prince they love, be thine especialcare!' I knelt by her as she uttered this; and touching the hem of hergarments as some holy thing, hurried from the spot. "

"Her prayers, " cried Bruce, "will fight for us. They are arms wellbefitting the virgins of Scotland to use against its foes. "

"And without such unction, " rejoined Wallace, looking to that Heavenshe had invoked, "the warrior may draw his steel in vain. "

On Edwin's introduction, the stranger knight engaged himself inconversation with Ramsay. But Lord Ruthven interrupted the discourse, by asking Ramsay some questions relative to the military positions onthe banks of the Eske. Sir Alexander, being the grandson of the Lordof Roslyn, and having passed his youth in its neighborhood, was wellqualified to answer these questions. In such discourses, the Scottishleaders marched along, till, passing before the lofty ridge of theCorstophine Hills, they were met by groups of flying peasantry. Atsight of the Scottish banners they stopped, and informed their armedcountrymen, that the new regent, John of Badenoch, having rashlyattacked the Southron army in its vantage ground, near BorthwickCastle, had suffered defeat, and was in full and disordered retreattoward Edinburgh, while the country people fled on all sides before thevictors. These reporters magnified the number of the enemy to anincredible amount. 

Wallace was at no loss in comprehending how much to believe in thispanic; but determining, whether great or small the power of hisadversary, to intercept him at Roslyn, he sent to Cummin and to Fraser, the two commanders in the beaten and dispersed armies, to rendezvous onthe banks of the Eske. The brave troops which he led, though ignorantof their real leader, obeyed his direction under an idea they were LordRuthven's, who was their ostensible general, and steadily pursued theirmarch. Every village and solitary cot seemed recently deserted; andthrough an awful solitude they took their rapid way, till the towers ofRoslyn Castle hailed them as a beacon from amidst the wooded heights ofthe northern Eske. 

"There, " cried Ramsay, pointing to the embattled rock, "stands thefortress of my forefathers! It must this day be made famous by theactions performed before its walls!"

Wallace, whose knowledge of this part of the country was not quite sofamiliar as that of Ramsay, learned sufficient from him to decide atonce which would be the most favourable position for a small andresolute band to assume against a large and conquering army; and, accordingly disposing his troops, which did not amount to more thaneight thousand men, he dispatched one thousand, under the command ofRamsay, to occupy the numerous caves in the southern banks of the Eske, where they were to issue in various divisions, and with shouts, on thefirst appearance of advantage, either on his side or on the enemy's. 

Ruthven, meanwhile, went for a few minutes into the castle to embracehis niece, and to assure the venerable Lord of Roslyn that assistanceapproached his beleaguered walls. 

Edwin, who, with Grimsby, had volunteered the dangerous service ofreconnoitering the enemy, returned within an hour, bringing in astraggler from the English camp. His life was promised him oncondition of his revealing the strength of the advancing army. Theterrified wretch did not hesitate; and from him they learned that itwas commanded by Sir John Segrave and Ralph Confrey, who, deeming thecountry subdued by the two last battles gained over the Black and RedCummins, ** were preparing for a general plundering. And, to sweep theland at once, Segrave had divided his army into three divisions, toscatter themselves over the country, and everywhere gather in thespoil. To be assured of this being the truth, while Grimsby remainedto guard the prisoner, Edwin went alone into the track he was told theSouthrons would take, and from a height he discerned about ten thousandof them winding along the valley. With this confirmation of the man'saccount, he brought him to the Scottish lines; and Wallace, who wellknew how to reap advantage from the errors of his enemies, being joinedby Fraser and the discomfited regent, made the concerted signal toRuthven. That nobleman immediately pointed out to his men the wavingcolors of the Southron host, as it approached beneath the overhangingwoods of Hawthorndean. He exhorted them, by their fathers, wives, andchildren, to breast the enemy at this spot; to grapple with him till hefell. "Scotland, " cried he, "is lost or won, this day. You arefreemen or slaves; your families are your own, or the property oftyrants! Fight stoutly, and God will yield you an invisible support. "

**The Red Cummin was an attributive appellation of John, the lastregent before the accession of Bruce. His father, the princely Earl ofBadenoch, was called the Black Cummin. 

The Scots answered their general by a shout, and calling on him to leadthem forward, Ruthven placed himself, with the regent and Fraser, inthe van, and led the charge. Little expecting an assault from anadversary they had so lately driven off the field, the Southrons weretaken by surprise. But they fought well, and resolutely stood theirground till Wallace and Bruce, who commanded the flanking divisions, closed in upon them with an impetuosity that drove Confrey's divisioninto the river. Then the ambuscade of Ramsay poured from his caves, the earth seemed teeming with mailed warriors, and the Southrons, seeing the surrounding heights and the deep defiles filled with thesame terrific appearances, fled with precipitation toward their seconddivision, which lay a few miles southward. Thither the conqueringsquadrons of the Scots followed them. The fugitives, leaping thetrenches of the encampment, called out to their comrades: "Arm! arm!Hell is in league against us!" Segrave was soon at the head of hislegions, and a battle more desperate than the first blazed over thefield. The flying troops of the slain Confrey, rallying around thestandard of their general-in-chief, fought with the spirit of revenge, and, being now a body of nearly 20, 000 men, against 8000 Scots, theconflict became tremendous. In several points the Southrons gained sogreatly the advantage that Wallace and Bruce threw themselvessuccessively into those parts where the enemy most prevailed, and byexhortations, example and prowess they a thousand times turned the fateof the day, appearing as they shot from rank to rank to be two cometsof fire sent before the Scottish troops to consume all who opposedthem. Segrave was taken, and forty English knights besides. 

The green borders of the Eske were dyed red with Southron blood; andthe enemy on all sides were calling for quarter, when, of a sudden, thecry of "Havoc and St. George!" issued from the adjoining hill. At thesame moment, a posse of country people (who, for the sake of plunder, had stolen into the height), seeing the advancing troops of a thirddivision of the enemy, like guilty cowards rushed down amongst theirbrave defenders, echoing the war-cry of England, and exclaiming, "Weare lost--a host, reaching to the horizon, is upon us!" Terror struckto many a Scottish heart. The Southrons who were just about giving uptheir arms, leaped upon their feet. The fight recommenced withredoubled fury. Sir Robert Neville, at the head of the newreinforcement, charged into the center of the Scottish legions. Bruceand Edwin threw themselves into the breach which this impetuous onsethad made in that part of their line, and fighting man to man, wouldhave taken Neville, had not a follower of that nobleman, wielding aponderous mace, struck Bruce so terrible a blow, as to fracture hishelmet, and cast him from his horse to the ground. The fall of soactive a leader excited as much dismay in the surrounding Scots as itencouraged the reviving spirits of the enemy. Edwin exerted himself topreserve his prince from being trampled on; and while he fought forthat purpose, and afterward sent his senseless body off the field, under charge of young Gordon (who had been chosen by the disguisedBruce as his especial aid), to Roslyn Castle, Neville rescued Segraveand his knights. Lord Ruthven now contended with a feeble arm. Fatigued with the two preceding conflicts, covered with wounds, andperceiving indeed a host pouring upon them on all sides (for the wholeof Segrave's original army of 30, 000 men, excepting those who hadfallen in the preceding engagements, were now restored to the assault), the Scots, in despair, gave ground: some threw away their arms, to flythe faster; and by thus exposing themselves, panic-struck, to theswords of their enemies, redoubled the confusion. 

Indeed, so great was the havoc, that the day must have ended in theuniversal destruction of every Scot on the field, had not Wallace feltthe crisis, and that as Guy de Longueville he shed his blood in vain. In vain his terrified countrymen saw him rush into the thickest of thecarnage; in vain he called to them, by all that was sacred to man, tostand to the last. He was a foreigner, and they had no confidence inhis exhortations; death was before them, and they turned to fly. Thefate of his country was hung on an instant. The last rays of thesetting sun shone full on the rocky promontory of the hill whichprojected over the field of combat. He took his resolution; andspurring his steed up the steep ascent, stood on the summit, where hecould be seen by the whole army then taking off his helmet, he waved itin the air with a shout, and having drawn all eyes upon him, suddenlyexclaimed, "Scots! you have this day vanquished the Southrons twice! ifyou be men, remember Cambus-Kenneth, and follow William Wallace to athird victory!" The cry which issued from the amazed troops was thatof a people who beheld the angel of their deliverance. "Wallace!" wasthe chargeword of every heart. The hero's courage seemedinstantaneously diffused through every breast; and, with braced armsand determined spirits, forming at once into the phalanx his thunderingvoice dictated, the Southrons again felt the weight of the Scottishsteel; and a battle ensued, which made the bright Eske run purple tothe sea, and covered the pastoral glades of Hawthorndean with thebodies of its invaders. 

Sir John Segrave and Neville were both taken; and ere night closed inupon the carnage, Wallace granted quarter to those who sued for it, and, receiving their arms, left them to repose in their beforedepopulated camp. 

Chapter LXIX. 

Roslyn Castle. 

Wallace, having planted an adequate force in charge of the prisoners, went to the two Southron commanders to pay them the courtesy he thoughtdue to their bravery and rank, before he retired with his victoriousfollowers toward Roslyn Castle. He entered their tent alone. At sightof the warrior who had given them so signal a defeat, the generalsrose. Neville, who had received a slight wound in one of his arms, stretched out the other to Wallace. "Sir William Wallace, " said he, "that you were obliged to declare a name so deservedly renowned, beforethe troops I led, could be made to relinquish one step of theirhard-earned advantage, was an acknowledgment in their favor almostequivalent to a victory. "

Sir John Segrave, who stood leaning on his sword with a disturbedcountenance, interrupted him. "The fate of this day cannot beattributed to any earthly name or hand. I believe my sovereign willallow the zeal with which I have served him; and yet thirty thousand asbrave men as ever crossed the marshes, have fallen before a handful ofScots. Three victories, won over Edward's troops in one day, are notevents of a commonplace nature. God alone has been our vanquisher. "

"I acknowledge it, " cried Wallace; "and that He is on the side ofjustice, let the return of St. Matthias' Day ever remind yourcountrymen!"

When Segrave gave the victory to the Lord of Hosts, he did it more fromjealousy of what might be Edward's opinion of his conduct, whencompared with Neville's, than from any intention to imply that thecause of Scotland was justly Heaven-defended. Such are the impiousinconsistencies of unprincipled men! He frowned at the reply ofWallace, and turned gloomily away. Neville returned a respectfulanswer, and their conqueror soon after left them. 

Edwin, with the Knight of the Green Plume (who had indeed approved hisvalor by many a brave deed performed at his commander's side), awaitedWallace's return from his prisoners' tent. Ruthven came up withWallace before he joined them, and told him that Bruce was safe underthe care of the sage of Ercildown, and that the regent, who had beenwounded in the beginning of the day, was also in Roslyn Castle. Wallace then called Edwin to him, giving him orders that all of thesurvivors who had suffered in these three desperate battles, should becollected from amongst the slain, and carried into the neighboringcastles of Hawthorndean, Brunston, and Dalkeith. The rest of thesoldiers were commanded to take their refreshment still under arms. These duties performed, Wallace turned with the eagerness of friendshipand loyalty to see how Bruce fared. 

The moon shone brightly as his party rode forward. Wallace ascendedthe steep acclivity on which Roslyn Castle stands. In crossing thedrawbridge which divides its rocky peninsula from the main land, helooked around and sighed. The scene reminded him of Ellerslie. A deepshadow lay on the woods beneath; and the pensile branches of the nowleafless trees bending to meet the flood, seemed mourning the deathswhich now polluted its stream. The water lay in profound repose at thebase of these beautiful craigs, as if peace longed to become aninhabitant of so lovely a scene. 

At the gate of the castle its aged master, the Lord Sinclair, metWallace, to bid him welcome. 

"Blessed be the saint of this day, " exclaimed he, "for thus bringingour best defender, even as by a miracle, to snatch us as a brand fromthe fire! My gates, like my heart, open to receive the true Regent ofScotland. "

"I have only done a Scotchman's duty, venerable Sinclair, " repliedWallace, "and must not arrogate a title which Scotland has transferredto other hands. "

"Not Scotland, but rebellion, " replied the old chief. "It wasrebellion against the just gratitude of the nation that invested theBlack Cummin with the regency; and only some similar infatuation hasbestowed the same title on his brother. What did he not lose till you, Scotland's true champion, have reappeared to rescue her again frombondage?"

"The present Lord Badenoch is an honest and a brave man, " repliedWallace; "and as I obey the power which gave him his authority, I amready, by fidelity to him, to serve Scotland with as vigorous a zeal asever; so, noble Sinclair, when our rulers cast not trammels on ourvirtue, we must obey them as the vicegerents of Heaven. "

Wallace then asked to be conducted to his wounded friend, Sir Thomas deLongueville, for Sinclair was ignorant of the real rank of his guest. Eager to oblige him, his noble host immediately led the way through agallery, and opening the door of an apartment, discovered to him Bruce, lying on a couch; and a venerable figure, whose silver beard andsweeping robes, announced him to be the sage of Ercildown, was bathingthe wounded chief's temples with balsams. A young creature, beautifulas a ministering seraph, also hung over the prostrate chief. She helda golden casket in her hand, out of which the sage drew the unctions heapplied. 

At the sound of Wallace's voice, who spoke in a suppressed tone toRuthven while entering the chamber, the wounded prince started on hisarm to greet his friend; but he as instantly fell back. Wallacehastened forward. When Bruce recovered from the swoon into which thesuddenness of his attempt to rise had thrown him, he felt a handgrasping his; he guessed to whom it belonged, and gently pressed it, smiled; a moment afterward he opened his eyes, and in a low voice, articulated from his wounded lips:

"My dear Wallace, you are victorious?"

"Completely so, my prince and king, " returned he, in the same tone;"all is now plain before you; speak but the word, and render Scotlandhappy!"

"Not yet; oh, not yet!" whispered he. "My more than brother, allowBruce to be himself again before he is known in the land of hisfathers! This cruel wound in my head must heal first, and then I mayagain share your dangers and your glory! Oh, Wallace, not a Southronmust taint our native lands when my name is proclaimed in Scotland!"**

**It is a curious circumstance, that when the body of Bruce wasdiscovered a few years ago in the abbey of Dunfermline, his headretained all its teeth excepting two in front, evidently originallyinjured by a stroke of violence. Beside this, the evidence remained inthe bone of the chest of the fact of its having been cut open after hisdeath, for the heart to be taken out, according to his dying command, to be sent to the Holy Land. 

Wallace saw that his prince was not in a state to bear argument, and asall had retired far from the couch when he approached it, in gratitudefor this propriety (for it had left him and his friend free to converseunobserved), he turned toward the other inmates of the chamber. Thesage advanced to him, and recognizing in Wallace's now manly form thefine youth he had seen with Sir Ronald Crawford at the claiming of thecrown, he saluted him with a paternal affection, tempering the sublimefeelings with which even he approached the resistless champion of hiscountry, and then beckoning the beautiful girl who had socompassionately hung over the couch of Bruce, she drew near the sage. He took her hand: "Sir William Wallace, " said he, "this sweet child isthe youngest daughter of the brave Mar, who died in the field of gloryon the Carron. Her grandfather, the stalwart knight of Thirlestane, fell a few weeks ago, defending his castle, and I am almost all that isleft to her, though she has, or had a sister, of whom we can learn notidings. " Isabella, for it was she, covered her face to conceal heremotions. 

"Dear lady, " said Wallace, "these venerable heroes were both known toand beloved by me. And now that Heaven has resumed them to itself, asthe last act of friendship that I, perhaps, may be fated to pay totheir offspring, I shall convey you to that sister whose matchlessheart yearns to receive so dear a consolation. "

To disengage Isabella's thoughts from the afflicting remembrances, nowbathing her fair cheeks with tears, Ercildown put a cup, of the mingledjuice of herbs, into her hand, and commissioned her to give it to theirinvalid. Wallace now learned that his friend's wound was not only inthe head, accompanied by a severe concussion, but that it must be manydays before he could remove him from his bed without danger. Anxiousto release him from even the scarcely breathed whispers of his martialcompanions, who stood at some distance from his couch, Wallaceimmediately proposed leaving him to rest, and beckoning the chiefs, they followed him out of the apartment. 

On the following morning he was aroused at daybreak by the abruptentrance of Andrew Lord Bothwell into his tent. The well-known soundsof his voice made Wallace start from his pillow, and extend his arms toreceive him. 

"Murray! My brave, invaluable Murray!" cried he, "thou art welcome oncemore to the side of thy brother in arms. Thee and thine must ever befirst in my heart!"

The young Lord Bothwell returned his warm embrace in silent eloquence;but sitting down by Wallace's couch, he grasped his hand, and pressingit to his breast, said, "I feel a happiness here which I have neverknown since the day of Falkirk. You quitted us, Wallace, and all goodseemed gone with you, or buried in my father's grave. But you return!You bring conquest and peace with you, you restore our Helen to herfamily, you bless us with yourself! And shall you not see again thegay Andrew Murray? It must be so, my friend, melancholy is not myclimate, and I shall now live in your beams. "

"Dear Murray!" returned Wallace, "this generous enthusiasm can only beequaled by my joy in all that makes you and Scotland happy. "

He then proceeded to confide to him all that related to Bruce; and todescribe the minutiae of those plans for his establishment, which hadonly been hinted in his letters from France. Bothwell entered withardor into these designs, and regretted that the difficulty he found inpersuading the veterans of Lanark to follow him to any field where theydid not expect to find their beloved Wallace, had deprived him of theparticipation of the late danger and new glory of his friend. 

"To compensate for that privation, " replied Wallace, "while our princeis disabled from pursuing victory in his own person, we must not allowour present advantages to lose their expected effects. You shallaccompany me through the Lowlands, where we must recover the placeswhich the ill-fortune of James Cummin has lost. "

Murray gladly embraced this opportunity of again sharing the field withWallace, and the chiefs joined Bruce. Bothwell was presented to hisyoung sovereign, and Douglas entering, the discourse turned on theirdifferent posts of duty. Wallace suggested to his royal friend, thatas his restoration to health could not be so speedy as the causerequired, it would be necessary not to await that event, but begin therecovery of the border counties before Edward could reinforce theirgarrisons. Bruce sighed; but with a generous glow suffusing his paleface, said:

"Go, my friend! Bless Scotland which way you will, and let my readyacquiescence convince future ages, that I love my country beyond my ownfame; for her sake I relinquish to you the whole glory of deliveringher out of the hands of the tyrant who has so long usurped my rights. Men may say when they hear this, that I do not merit the crown you willput upon my head; that I have lain on a couch while you fought for me;but I will bear all obloquy rather than deserve its slightest charge, by withholding you an hour from the great work of Scotland's peace. "

"It is not for the breath of men, my dear prince, " returned Wallace, "that either you or I act. It is sufficient for us that we effecttheir good, and whether the agent be one or the other, the end is thesame. Our deeds and intentions have one great Judge, and He will awardthe only true glory. "

Such were the principles which filled the hearts of these two friends, worthy of each other, and alike honorable to the country that gave thembirth. Gordon had won their confidence, and watched by his prince'spillow. 

Though the wounded John Cummin remained possessed of the title ofregent, Wallace was virtually endowed with the authority. Whatever hesuggested was acted upon as by a decree--all eyes looked to him as tothe cynosure by which every order of men in Scotland were to shapetheir course. The jealousies which had driven him from his formersupreme seat, seemed to have died with their prime instigator, the lateregent; and no chief of any consequence, excepting Soulis and Athol, who had retired in disgust to their castles, breathed a word ofopposition to the general gratitude. 

Wallace having dictated his terms and sent his prisoners to England, commenced the march that was to clear the Lowlands of the foe. His ownvaliant band, headed by Scrymgeour and Lockhart of Lee, ** rushed towardhis standard, with a zeal that rendered each individual a host inhimself. The fame of his new victories, seconded by the enthusiasm ofthe people and the determination of the troops, soon made him master ofall the lately lost fortresses. 

**The crusading ancestor of this Lockhart was the bringer of the famousLee penny from the Holy Land, and from his sprung the three bravebranches of the name--Lockhart of Lee, Lockhart of Carnwarth, andLockhart of Drydean. 

Hardly four weeks were consumed in these conquests, and not a rood ofland remained south of the Tay in the possession of England, exceptingBerwick. Before that often-disputed stronghold, Wallace drew up hisforces to commence a regular siege. The governor, intimidated by thepowerful works which he saw the Scottish chief forming against thetown, dispatched a messenger to Edward with the tidings; not onlypraying for succors, but to inform him that if he continued to refusethe peace for which the Scots fought, he would find it necessary tobegin the conquest of the kingdom anew. 

Chapter LXX. 

Berwick. 

While Wallace, accompanied by his brave friends, was thus carrying allbefore him from the Grampian to the Cheviot Hills, Bruce was rapidlyrecovering. His eager wishes seemed to heal his wounds, and on thetenth day after the departure of Wallace, he left the couch which hadbeen beguiled of its irksomeness by the smiling attentions of thetender Isabella. The ensuing Sabbath beheld him still more restored, and having imparted his intentions to the Lords Ruthven and Douglas, who were both with him, the next morning he joyfully buckled on hisarmor. Isabella, when she saw him thus clad, started, and the rosesleft her cheek. "I am armed to be your guide to Huntingtower, " saidhe, with a look that showed her he read her thoughts. He then calledfor pen and ink, to write to Wallace. The reassured Isabella, rejoicing in the glad beams of his brightening eyes, held the standish. As he dipped his pen, he looked at her with a grateful tenderness thatthrilled her soul, and made her bend her blushing face to hide emotionswhich whispered bliss in every beat of her happy heart. Thus, with aspirit wrapped in felicity, for victory hailed him from without, andlove seemed to woo him to the dearest transports within, he wrote thefollowing letter to Wallace:

"I am now well, my best friend! This day I attend my lovely nurse, with her venerable guardian, to Huntingtower. Eastward of Perth, almost every castle of consequence is yet filled by the Southrons, whomthe folly of James Cummin allowed to reoccupy the places whence you hadso lately driven them. I go to root them out; to emulate in the north, what you are now doing in the south! You shall see me again when thebanks of the Spey are as free as you have made the Forth. In all thisI am yet Thomas de Longueville. Isabella, the sweet soother of myhours, knows me as no other; for would she not despise the unfamedBruce? To deserve and win her love as De Longueville, and to marry heras King of Scotland, is the fond hope of your friend and brother, Robert ---. God speed me, and I shall send you dispatches of myproceedings. "

Wallace had just made a successful attack upon the outworks of Berwick, when this letter was put into his hand. He was surrounded by hischieftains; and having read it, he informed them that Sir Thomas deLongueville was going to the Spey to rid its castles of the enemy. 

"The hopes of his enterprising spirit, " continued Wallace, "are soseconded by his determination, I doubt not that what he promises, Godand the justice of our cause will perform; and we may soon expect tohear Scotland has no enemies in her Highlands. "

But in this hope Wallace was disappointed. Day after day passed, andno tidings from the north. He became anxious; Bothwell and Edwin toobegan to share his uneasiness. Continued successes against Berwick hadassured them a speedy surrender, when unexpected succors being thrownin by sea, the confidence of the garrison became re-excited, and theramparts appeared doubly manned. Wallace saw that the only alternativewas to surprise and take possession of the ships, and turn the siegeinto a blockade. Still trusting that Bruce would be prosperous in theHighlands, he calculated on full leisure to await the fall of Berwickon this plan; and so much blood might be spared. Intent and executionwere twin-born in the breast of Wallace. By a masterly stroke heeffected his design on the shipping; and having closed the Southronswithin their walls, he dispatched Lord Bothwell to Huntingtower, tolearn the state of military operations there, and above all to bringback tidings of the prince's health. 

On the evening of the very day in which Murray left Berwick, adesperate sully was made by the garrison; but they were beaten backwith such effect, that Wallace gained possession of one of their mostcommanding towers. The contest did not end till night; and afterpassing a brief while in the council-tent listening to the suggestionsof his friends relative to the use that might be made of the newacquisition, he retired to his own quarters at a late hour. At thesemomentous periods he never seemed to need sleep; and sitting at histable setting the dispositions for the succeeding day, he marked notthe time till the flame of his exhausted lamp expired in the socket. He replenished it and had again resumed his military labors, when thecurtain which covered the door of his tent was drawn aside, and anarmed man entered. Wallace looked up, and seeing that it was theKnight of the Green Plume, asked if anything had occurred from the town. 

"Nothing, " replied the knight, in an agitated voice, and seatinghimself beside Wallace. 

"Any evil tidings from Perthshire?" demanded Wallace, who now hardlydoubted that ill news had arrived of Bruce. 

"None, " was the knight's reply; "but I am come to fulfill my promise toyou, to unite myself forever heart and soul to your destiny, or youbehold me this night for the last time. "

Surprised at this address, and the emotion which shook the frame of theunknown warrior, Wallace answered him with expressions of esteem, andadded:

"If it depend on me to unite so brave a man to my friendship forever, only speak the word, declare your name, and I am ready to seal thecompact. "

"My name, " declared the knight, "will indeed put these protestations tothe proof. I have fought by your side, Sir William Wallace; I wouldhave died at any moment to have spared that breast a wound, and yet Idread to raise my visor to show you who I am. A look will make me liveor blast me. "

"Your language confounds me, noble knight, " replied Wallace. "I knowof no man living, save the base violators of Lady Helen Mar's liberty, who need tremble before my eyes. It is not possible that either ofthese men is before me; and whoever you are, whatever you may havebeen, brave chief, your deeds have proved you worthy of a soldier'sfriendship, and I pledge you mine. "

The knight was silent. He took Wallace's hand--he grasped it; the armsthat held it did indeed tremble. Wallace again spoke. 

"What is the meaning of this? I have a power to benefit, but none toinjure. "

"To benefit and to injure!" cried the knight, in a transport ofemotion; "you have my life in your hands. Oh! grant it, as you valueyour own happiness and honor! Look on me and say whether I am to liveor die. "

As the warrior spoke, he cast himself impetuously on his knees, andthrew open his visor. Wallace saw a fine but flushed face. It wasmuch overshadowed by the helmet. 

"My friend, " said he, attempting to raise him by the hand which claspedhis, your words are mysteries to me; and so little right can I have tothe power you ascribe to me, that although it seems to me as if I hadseen your features before, yet-"

"You forget me!" cried the knight, starting on his feet, and throwingoff his helmet to the ground; "again look on this face and stab me atonce by a second declaration that I am remembered no more!"

The countenance of Wallace now showed that he too well remembered it. He was pale and aghast. 

"Lady Mar, " cried he, "not expecting to see you under a warrior'scasque--you will pardon me, that when so appareled I should notimmediately recognize the widow of my friend. "

She gasped for articulation. 

"And it is thus, " cried she, "you answer the sacrifices I have made foryou? For you I have committed an outrage on my nature; I have put onme this abhorrent steel; I have braved the dangers of many ahard-fought day, and all to guard your life! to convince you of a loveunexampled in woman! and thus you recognize her who has risked honorand life for you--with coldness and reproach!"

"With neither, Lady Mar, " returned he, "I am grateful for the generousmotives of your conduct; but for the sake of the fair fame you confessyou have endangered, in respect to the memory of him whose name youbear, I cannot but wish that so hazardous an instance of interest in mehad been left undone. "

"If that is all, " returned she, drawing toward him, "it is in yourpower to ward from me every stigma! Who will dare to cast onereflection on my fair fame when you bear testimony to my purity? Whowill asperse the name of Mar when you displace it with that of Wallace? Make me yours, dearest of men, " cried she, clasping his hands, "andyou will receive one to your heart who never knew how to love before, who will be to you what your heart who never knew how to love before, who will be to you what woman never yet was, and who will endow youwith territories nearly equal to those of the King of Scotland. Myfather is no more; and now, as Countess of Strathearn and Princess ofthe Orkneys, I have it in my power to earn and Princess of the Orkneys, I have it in my power to bring a sovereignty to your head, and thefondest of wives to your bosom. " As she vehemently spoke, and clung toWallace, as if she had already a right to seek comfort within his arms, her tears and violent agitations so disconcerted him that for a fewmoments he could not find a reply. This short endurance of her passionaroused her almost drooping hopes, and intoxicated with so rapturous anillusion, she threw off the little restraint in which the awe ofWallace's coldness had confined her, and flinging herself on hisbreast, poured forth all her love and fond ambitions for him. In vainhe attempted to interrupt her, to raise her with gentleness from herindecorous situation; she had no perception but the idea which had nowtaken possession of her heart, and whispering to him softly, said: "Bebut my husband, Wallace, and all rights shall perish before my love andyour aggrandizement. In these arms, you shall bless the day you firstsaw Joanna of Strathearn!"

The prowess of the Knight of the Green Plume, the respect he owed tothe widow of the Earl of Mar, the tenderness he ever felt for all ofwomankind, were all forgotten in the disgusting blandishments of thisdisgrace to her sex. She wooed to be his wife, but not with the chasteappeal of the widow of Mahlon. "Let me find favor in thy sight, forthou hast comforted me! Spread thy garment over me, and let me be thywife!" said the fair Moabitess who in a strange land cast herself atthe feet of her deceased husband's friend. She was answered, "I willdo all that thou requirest, for thou art a virtuous woman!" Butneither the actions nor the words of Lady Mar bore witness that shedeserved this appellation. The were the dictates of a passion impureas it was intemperate. Blinded by its fumes, she forgot the nature ofthe heart she sought to pervert to sympathy with hers. She saw notthat every look and movement on her part filled Wallace with aversion, and not until he forcibly broke from her did she doubt the success ofher fond caresses. 

"Lady mar, " said he, "I must repeat that I am not ungrateful for theproofs of regard you have bestowed on me; but such excess of attachmentis lavished upon a man that is a bankrupt in love. I am cold asmonumental marble to every touch of that passion to which I was oncebut too entirely devoted. Bereaved of the object, I am punished; thusis my heart doomed to solitude on earth for having made an idol of theangel that was sent to cheer my path to Heaven. " Wallace said evenmore than this. He remonstrated with her on the shipwreck she wasmaking of her own happiness, in adhering thus tenaciously to a man whocould only regard her with the general sentiment of esteem. He urgedher beauty and yet youthful years, and how many would be eager to winher love, and to marry her with honor. While he continued to speak toher with the tender consideration of a brother, she, who knew nogradations in the affections of the heart, doubted his words, andbelieved that a latent fire glowed in his breast which her art mightyet blow into a flame. She threw herself upon her knees, she wept, sheimplored his pity, she wound her arms around his, and bathed his handswith her tears, but still he continued to urge her, by every argumentof female delicacy, to relinquish her ill-directed love, to return toher domains before her absence could be generally known. She looked upto read his countenance. A friend's anxiety, nay, authority, wasthere, but no glow of passion; all was calm and determined. Herbeauty, then, had been shown to a man without eyes, her tendereloquence poured on an ear that was deaf, her blandishments lavished ona block of marble! In a paroxysm of despair she dashed the hand sheheld far from her, and standing proudly on her feet--"Hear me, thou manof stone!" cried she, "and answer me on your life and honor, for bothdepend on your reply; is Joanna of Strathearn to be your wife?"

"Cease to urge me, unhappy lady, " returned Wallace; "you already knowthe decision of this ever-widowed heart. "

Lady Mar looked steadfastly at him. 

"Then receive my last determination!" and drawing near him with adesperate and portentous countenance, as if she meant to whisper in hisear, she suddenly plucked St. Louis' dagger from his girdle and struckit into his breast. He caught the hand which grasped the hilt. Hereyes glared with the fury of a maniac, and, with a horrid laugh, sheexclaimed: "I have slain thee, insolent triumpher in my love andagonies! Thou shalt not now deride me in the arms of thy minion; for, I know that it is not for the dead Marion you have trampled on my heartbut for the living Helen!"

As she spoke, he moved her hold from the dagger, and drew the weaponfrom the wound. A torrent of blood flowed over his vest, and stainedthe hand that grasped hers. She turned of a deadly paleness, but ademoniac joy still gleamed in her eyes. 

"Lady Mar, " cried he, while he thrust the thickness of his scarf intothe wound, "I pardon this outrage. Go in peace, I shall never breatheto man nor woman the occurrences of this night. Only remember, thatwith regard to Lady Helen, my wishes are as pure as her own innocence. "

"So they may be now, vainly boasting, immaculate Wallace!" answeredshe, with bitter derision; "men are saints when their passions aresatisfied. Think not to impose on her who knows how this vestal Helenfollowed you in page's attire, and without one stigma being cast uponher maiden delicacy. I am not to learn the days and nights she passedalone with you in the woods of Normandy? Did you not follow her toFrance? Did you not tear her from the arms of Lord Aymer de Valence?and now, relinquishing her yourself, you leave a dishonored bride tocheat the vows of some honester man! Wallace, I know you, and as Ihave been fool enough to love you beyond all woman's love, I swear bythe powers of heaven and hell to make you feel the weight of woman'shatred!"

Her denunciation had no effect on Wallace; but her slander against herunoffending daughter-in-law agitated him with an indignation thatalmost dispossessed him of himself. In hurried and vehement words, bedenied all that she had alleged against Helen, and appealed to thewhole court of France to witness her spotless innocence. Lady Marexulted in this emotion, though every sentence, by the interest itdisplayed in its object, seemed to establish the truth of a suspicionwhich she at first only uttered from the vague workings of her revenge. Triumphing in the belief that he bad found another as frail asherself, and yet maddened that another should have been preferredbefore her, her jealous pride blazed into redoubled flame. 

"Swear, " cried she, "till I see the blood of that false heart forced tomy feet, and still I shall believe the base daughter of Mar a wanton. I go, not to proclaim her dishonor to the world, but to deprive her ofher lover; to yield the rebel Wallace into the hands of justice! Whenon the scaffold, proud exulter in those by me now detested beauties, remember that it was Joanna Strathearn who laid thy matchless head uponthe block; who consigned those limbs, of Heaven's own statuary, todecorate the spires of Scotland! Remember that my curse pursues you, here and hereafter!"

A livid fire seemed to dart from her scornful eyes, her countenance wastorn as by some internal fiend, and, with the last maledictionthundering from her tongue, she darted from his sight. 

Chapter LXXI. 

The Camp. 

Next morning Wallace was recalled from the confusion into which hisnocturnal visitor had thrown his mind by the entrance of Ker, who came, as usual, with the reports of the night. In the course of thecommunication he mentioned, that about three hours before sunrise, theKnight of the Green Plume had left the camp with his dispatches forSterling. Wallace was scarcely surprised at this ready falsehood ofLady Mar's, and, not intending to betray her, he merely said, "Long erebe appears again I hope we shall have good tidings from our friend inthe north. "

But day succeeded day, and notwithstanding Bothweil's embassy, noaccounts arrived. The countess had left an emissary in the Scottishcamp, who did as she had done before--intercepted all messengers fromPerthshire. 

Indeed, from the first of her flight to Wallace to the hour of herqoitting him, she had never halted in her purpose from any regard tohonor. Previous to her stealing from Huntingtower, she had bribed thesenesehal to say that on the morning of her disappearance, he had met aknight, near Saint Concal's Well, coming to the castle; who told himthat the Countess of Mar was gone on a secret mission to Norway, andshe therefore had commanded him, by that knight, to enjoin hersister-in-law, for the sake of the cause most dear to them all, not toacquaint Lord Ruthven, or any of their friends, with her departure, till she should return with happy news for Scotland. The man added, that after declaring this, the knight rode hastily away. But thisprecaution, which did indeed impose on the innocent credulty of herhusband's sister and his daughter, failed to satisfy the countessherself. 

Fearful that Helen might communicate her flight to Wallace, and soexcite his suspicion of her not being far from him, from the moment ofher joining him at Linlithgow she intercepted every letter fromHuntingtower: and when Bruce went to that castle, she continued thepractice with double vigilance, being jealous of what might be said ofHelen by this Sir Thomas de Longueville, in whom the master of her fateseemed so unreservedly to confide. To this end, even after she leftthe camp, all packets from Perthshire were conveyed to her by the spyshe had stationed near Wallace; while all which were sent from him toHuntingtower were stopped by the treacherous seneschal, and thrown intothe flames. No letters, however, ever came from Helen; a few bore LordRuthven's superscription, and all the rest were addressed by Sir Thomasde Longueville to Wallace. She broke the seals of this correspondence, but she looked in vain on their contents. Bruce and his friend, aswell as Ruthven, wrote in a cipher, and only one passage, which theformer had by chance written in the common character, could she evermake out. It ran thus:

"I have just returned to Huntingtower, after the capture of Kinfouns. Lady Helen sits by me on one side, Isabella on the other. Isabellasmiles on me, like the spirit of happiness. Helen's look is not lessgracious, for I tell her I am writing to Sir William Wallace. Shesmiles, hut it is with such a smile as that with which a saint wouldrelinquish to Heaven the dearest object of its love. 'Helen, ' said I, 'what shall I say from you to our friend?' 'That I pray for him. ''That you think of him?' 'That I pray for him, ' repeated she, moreemphatically; 'that is the way I always think of my preserver. ' Hermanner checked me, my dear Wallace, but I would give worlds that youcould bring your heart to make this sweet vestal smile as I do hersister!"

Lady Mar crushed the registered wish in her hand; and though she wasnever able to decipher a word or more of Bruce's numerous letters (manyof which, could she have read them, contained complaints of thatsilence she had so cruelly occasioned), she took and destroyed them all. 

She had ever shunned the penetrating eyes of young Lord Bothwell, andto have him on the spot when she should discover herself to Wallace, she thought would only invite discomfiture. Affecting to share thegeneral anxiety respecting the failure of communications from thenorth, she it was who suggested the propriety of sending some one ofpeculiar trust to make inquiries. By covert insinuations, she easilyinduced Ker to propose Bothwell to Wallace, and, on the very night thather machinations had prevailed, to dispatch him on this embassy;impatient, yet doubting and agitated, she went to declare herself tothe man for whom she had thus sunk herself in shame and falsehood. 

Though Wallace heard the denunciation with which she left his presence, yet he did not conceive it was more than the evanescent rage ofdisappointed passion; and, anticipating persecutions rather from herlove than her revenge, he was relieved, and not alarmed, by theintelligence that the Knight of the Green Plume had really taken hisdeparture. More delicateof Lady Mar's honor than she was of her own, when he met Edwin at theworks, he silently acquiesced in his belief also, that their latecompanion was gone with dispatches to the regent, who was now removedto Stirling. 

After frequent sallies from the garrison, in which the Southrons werealways beaten back with great loss, the lines of circumvallation wereat last finished, and Wallace hourly anticipated the surrender of theenemy. Reduced for want of provisions, and seeing all succors cut offby the seizure of the fleet, the inhabitants, detesting their newrulers, collected in bands; and lying in wait for the soldiers of thegarrison, murdered them secretly, and in great numbers. But here theevil did not end; for by the punishments which the governor thoughtproper to inflict by lots on the guilty, or the guiltless (he not beingable to discover who were actually the assassins), the distress of thetown was augmented to a horrible degree. Such a state of things couldnot be long maintained. Aware that should he continue in the fortress, his troops must assuredly perish, either by insurrection within, orfrom the enemy without, the Southron commander determined no longer towait the appearance of a relief which might never arrive; and to stopthe internal confusion, be sent a flag of truce to Wallace, acceptingand signing his offered terms of capitulation. By this deed, heengaged to open the gates at sunset, but begged the interval betweennoon and that hour, to allow him time to settle the animosity betweenhis men and the people before he should surrender his brave followersentirely into the hands of the Scots. 

Having dispatched his assent to this request of the governor's, Wallaceretired to his own tent. That he had effected his purpose without thecarnage which must have ensued had he again stormed the place, gratified his humanity; and congratulating himself on such atermination of the siege, he turned with more than usual cheerfulnesstoward a herald, who brought him a packet from the north. The manwithdrew, and Wallace broke the seal; but what was his astonishment tofind it a citation for himself to repair immediately to Stirling, "toanswer, " it said, "certain charges brought against him, by an authority too illustriousto be set aside without examination!" He had hardly read thisextraordinary mandate when Sir Simon Fraser, his second in command, entered, and~, with consternation in his looks, put an open letter intohis hand. It ran as follows:

"Sir Simon Fraser, --Allegations of treason against the liberties ofScotland having been preferred against Sir William Wallace, until heclears himself of these charges to the thanes of Scotland hereassembled, you, Sir Simon Fraser, are directed to assume, in his stead, the command of the forces which form the blockade of Berwick, and, asthe first act of your duty, you are ordered to send the accused towardStirling under a strong guard, within an hour after you receive thisdispatch. 

"(Signed)

John Cummin, "Earl of Badenoch, Lord Regent of Scotland. 

"Stirling Castle. "

Wallace returned the letter to Fraser with an undisturbed countenance. "I have received a similar order from the regent, " said he; "and thoughI cannot guess the source whence these accusations spring, I fear notto meet them, and shall require no guard to speed me forward to thescene of my defense. I am ready to go, my friend, and happy to resignthe brave garrison, that has just surrendered, to your honor andlenity. " Fraser answered that he should be emulous to follow hisexample in all things, and to abide by his agreements with the Southrongovernor. He then retired to prepare the army for the departure oftheir commander, and, much against his feelings, to call out the escortthat was to attend the calumniated chief Stirling. 

When the marshal of the army read to the officers and men the orders ofthe regent, a speechless consternation seized on one part of thetroops, and as violent an indignation agitated the other to tumult. The veterans, who had followed the chief of Ellerslie from the firsthour of his appearing as a patriot in arms, could not brook thisaspersion upon their leader's honor; and had it not been for thevehement exhortations of the no less incensed, though more moderate, Scrymgeour and Lockhart, they would have risen in instant revolt. Though persuaded to sheathe their half-drawn swords, they could not bewithheld from immediately quitting the field, and marching directly toWallace's tent. He was conversing with Edwin when they arrived; and, in some measure, he had broken the shock to him of so dishonoring acharge on his friend, by his being the first to communicate it. WhileEdwin strove to guess who could be the inventor of so dire a falsehoodagainst the truest of Scots, he awakened an alarm in Wallace for Bruce, which could not be excited for himself, by suggesting that perhaps someintimation had been given to the most ambitious of the thanes, respecting the arrival of their rightful prince. "And yet, " returnedWallace, "I cannot altogether suppose that; for even their desires ofself-aggrandizement could not torture my share in Bruce's restorationto his country into anything like treason our friend's rights are tooundisputed for that; and all I should dread, by a prematurediscovery of his being in Scotland, would be secret machinationsagainst his life. There are men in this land who might attempt it; andit is our duty, my dear Edwin, to suffer death upon the rack, ratherthan betray our knowledge of him. "But, " added he, with a smile, "weneed not disturb ourselves with such thoughts--the regent is in ourprince's confidence; and did this accusation relate to him, he wouldnot, on such a plea, have arraigned me as a traitor. "

Edwin again revolved in his mind the nature of the charge and who thevillain could be who had made it; and, at last suddenly recollectingthe Knight of the Green Plume, he asked if it were not possible thathe, a stranger who had so sedulously kept himself from being known, might be the traitor?

"I must confess to you, " continued Edwin, "that this knight, who everappeared to dislike your closest friends, seems to me the most probableinstigator of this mischief; and is, perhaps, the author of the strangefailure of communication between you and Bruce! Accounts have notarrived, ever since Bothwell went; and that is more than natural. Though brave in his deeds, this unknown way prove only the more subtlespy and agent of our enemies. "

Wallace changed color at these suggestions, but merely replied:

"A few hours will decide your suspicion, for I shall lose no time inconfronting my accuser. "

"I go with you, " said Edwin; "never while I live, will I consent tolose sight of you again!"

It was at this moment that the tumultuous approach of the Lanarkveterans was heard from without. The whole band rushed into the tent;and Stephen Ireland, who was foremost, raising his voice above therest, exclaimed:

"They are the traitors, my lord, who accuse you! It is determined, byour corrupted thanes, that Scotland shall be sacrificed, and you are tobe made the first victim. Think they, then, that we will obey suchparricides? Lead us on, thou only worthy of the name of regent, and wewill hurl these usurpers from their thrones. "

This demand was reiterated by every man present--was echoed by hundredswho surrounded the tent. The Bothwell men and Ramsay's followersjoined the men of Lanark, and the mutiny against the orders of theregent became general. Wallace walked out into the open field, andmounting his horse, rode forth amongst them. At sight of him the airresounded with acclamations, unceasingly proclaiming him their onlyleader, but, stretching out his arm to them, in token of silence, theybecame profoundly still. 

"My friends and brother soldiers, " cried he. "as you value the honor ofWilliam Wallace, as you have hitherto done this moment yield himimplicit obedience. "

"Forever!" shouted the Bothwel1 men. 

"We never will obey any other!" rejoined his faithful Lanark followers, and, with an increased uproar, they demanded to be led to Stirling. 

His extended hand again stilled the storm, and he resumed:

"You shall go with me to Stirling, but as my friends only: never as theenemies of the Regent of Scotland. I am charged with treason; it ishis duty to try me by the laws of my country; it is mine to submit tothe inquisition. I fear it not, and I invite you to accompany me; notto brand me with infamy, by passing between my now darkened honor andthe light of justice--not to avenge an iniquitous sentence denounced ona guiltless man--but to witness my acquittal; and in that my triumphover them, who, through my breast would strike at what is greater thanI. "

At this mild persuasive every upraised sword dropped before him, andWallace, turning his horse into the path which led toward Stirling, hismen, with a silent determination to share the fate of their master, fell into regular marching order, and followed him. Edwin rode by hisside, equally wondering at the unaffected composure with which hesustained such a weight of insult, and at the men who could be sounjust as to lay it upon him. 

At the west of the camp, the detachment appointed to guard Wallace inhis arrest came up with him. It was with difficulty that Fraser couldfind an officer who would command it; and he who did at last consent, appeared before his prisoner with downcast eyes; seeming rather theculprit than the guard. Wallace, observing his confusion, said a fewgracious words to him; and the officer, more overcome by this than becould have been with reproaches, burst into tears and retired into therear of his men. 

Chapter LXXII. 

Stirling Castle. 

Wallace entered on the Carse of Stirling, that scene of his manyvictories, and beheld its northern horizon white with tents. Officersappointed for the purpose had apprised the thanes of Wallace havingleft Berwick; and knowing by the same means all his movements, an armedcavalcade met him near the Carron, to hold his followers in awe, and toconduct him without opposition to Stirling. In case it should beinsufficient to quail their spirit, or to intimidate him who had neveryet been made to fear by mortal man, the regent had summoned all thevassals of the various seigniories of Cummin, and planted them inbattle array before the walls of Stirling. But whether they werefriends or foes was equally indifferent to Wallace; for, strong inintegrity, he went serenely forward to his trial; and, though inwardlymarveling at such a panoply of war, being called out to induce him tocomply with so simple an act of obedience to the laws, he met theheralds of the regent with as much ease as if they had been coming tocongratulate him on the capitulation of Berwick, the ratification ofwhich he brought in his hand. 

By his order his faithful followers (who took a pride in obeying withthe most scrupulous exactness the injunctions of their now deposedcommander) encamped under Sir Alexander Scrymgeour to the northwest ofthe castle, near Ballockgeich. It was then night. In the morning, atan early hour, Wallace was summoned before the council in the citadel. 

On his re-entrance into that room which he had left, the dictator ofthe kingdom, when every knee bent and every head bowed to his suprememandate, he found not one who even greeted his appearance with thecommonest ceremony of courtesy. Badenoch, the regent, sat upon thethrone, with evident symptoms of being yet an invalid. The Lords Atholand Buchan, and the numerous chiefs of the clans of Cummin, were seatedon his right: on his left were arranged the Earls of Fife and Lorn, Lord Soulis, and every Scottish baron of power who at any time badshown himself hostile to Wallace. Others, who were of easy faith to atale of malice, sat with them; and the rest of the assembly was filledup with men of better families than personal fame, and whose namesswelled a list without adding any true importance to the side on whichthey appeared. A few, and those a very few, who still respectedWallace, were present; not because they were sent for (great carehaving been taken not to summon his friends), but in consequence of arumor of the charge having reached them: and these were, the LordsLennox and Loch-awe, with Kirkpatrick, and two or three chieftains fromthe western Highlands. None of them had arrived till within a fewminutes of the council being opened, and Wallace was entering atone door as they appeared at the other. 

At sight of him a low whisper buzzed through the hail, and a marshaltook the plumed bonnet from his hand, which, out of respect to thenobility of Scotland, he had raised from his head at his entrance. Aherald meanwhile proclaimed, in a loud voice, "Sir William Wallace! youare charged with treason; and, by an ordinance of Fergus the First, youmust stand covered before the representative of the majesty of Scotlanduntil that loyalty be proved, which would again restore you to a seatamongst her faithful barons. "

Wallace, with the same equanimity as that with which he would havemounted the regal chair, bowed his head to marshal in token ofacquiescence. But Edwin, whose indignation was reawakened at thisexclusion of his friend from the privilege of his birth, said somethingso warm to the marshal that Wallace, in a low voice, was obliged tocheck his vehemence by a declaration, that, however obsolete thecustom, and revived in his case only, it was his determination tosubmit himself in every respect to whatever was exacted of him by thelaws of his country. 

On Loch-awe and Lennox observing him stand thus before the bonneted andseated chiefs (a stretch of magisterial prerogative which had not beenexercised on a Scottish knight for many a century), they took off theircaps and bowing to Wallace, refused to occupy their places on thebenches while the defender of Scotland stood. Kirkpatrick drew eagerlytoward him, and throwing down his casque and sword at his feet, criedin a loud voice, "Lie there till the only true man in all this landcommands me to take ye up in his defense. He alone had courage to lookthe Southrons in the face, and to drive their king over the borders, while his present accusers skulked in their chains!" Wallace regardedthis ebullition from the heart of the honest veteran with a look thatwas eloquent to all. He would have animatedly praised such an instanceof fearless gratitude expressed to another, and when it was directed tohimself, his ingenuous soul showed approbation in every feature of hisbeaming countenance. 

"Is it thus, presumptuous Knight of Ellerslie, " cried Soulis, "that byyour looks you dare encourage contumely to the lord regent and hispeers?"

Wallace did not deign him an answer, but turning calmly toward thethrone, "Representative of my king!" said he, "in duty to the powerwhose authority you wear, I have obeyed your summons, and I here awaitthe appearance of the accuser who has had the hardihood to brand thename of William Wallace with disloyalty to prince or people. "

The regent was embarrassed. He did not suffer his eyes to meet thoseof Wallace, but looked down in manifest confusion during this address;and then, without reply, turned to Lord Athol, and called on him toopen the charge. Athol required not a second summons; he roseimmediately, and, in a bold and positive manner, accused Wallace ofhaving been won over by Philip of France to sell those rights ofsupremacy to him which, with a feigned patriotism, his sword hadwrested from the grasp of England. For this treachery, Philip was toendow him with the sovereignty of Scotland; and, as a pledge of thecompact, he had invested him with the principality of Gascony inFrance. "This is the groundwork of his treason, " continued Athol; "butthe superstructure is to be cemented with our blood. I have seen alist, in his own handwriting, of those chiefs whose lives are to pavehis way to the throne. "

At this point of the charge Edwin sprung forward; but Wallace, perceiving the intent of his movement, caught him by the arm, and, by alook, reminded him of his recently repeated engagement to keep silent. 

"Produce the list, " cried Lord Lennox. "No evidence that does notbring proof to our eyes ought to have any weight with us against theman who had bled in every vein for Scotland. "

"It shall be brought to your eyes, " returned Athol; "that, and otherdamning proofs, shall convince this credulous country of its abusedconfidence. "

"I see these damning proofs now!" cried Kirkpatrick, who had frowninglylistened to Athol; "the abusers of my country's confidence betraythemselves at this moment by their eagerness to impeach her friends;and I pray Heaven, that before they mislead others into so black aconspiracy, the lie in their throats may choke its inventors!"

"We all know, " cried Athol, turning on Kirkpatrick, "to whom youbelong. You were brought with this shameless grant to mangle the bodyof the slain Cressingham; a deed which brought a stigma on the Scottishname never to be erased by the disgrace of its perpetrators. For thissavage triumph did you sell yourself to Sir William Wallace; and abloody champion you are, always ready for your secretly murderousmaster!"

"Hear you this, and bear it?" cried Kirkpatrick and Edwin in onebreath, and grasping their daggers, Edwin's flashed in his hand. 

"Seize them!" cried Athol; "my life is threatened by his myrmidons. "

Marshals instantly approached; but Wallace, who had hitherto stood insilent dignity, turned to them with that tone of justice which had evercommanded from his lips, and bade them forbear:

"Touch these knights at your peril, marshals!" said he; "no man in thischamber is above the laws, and they protect every Scot who resentsunjust aspersions upon his own character, or irrelevant and prejudicingattacks on that of an arraigned friend. It is before the majesty ofthe laws that I now stand; but were injury to usurp its place, not allthe lords in Scotland should detain me a moment in a scene so unworthyof my country. "

The marshals retreated, for they had been accustomed to regard withimplicit deference the opinion of Sir William Wallace on the laws; andthough he now stood in the light of their violator, yet memory boretestimony that he had always read them aright, and, to this hour, hadever appeared to make them the guide of his actions. 

Athol saw that none in the assembly had courage to enforce this act ofviolence, and blazing with fury, he poured his whole wrath uponWallace. "Imperious, arrogant traitor!" cried he; "this presumptiononly deepens our impression of your guilt! Demean yourself with morereverence to this august court, or expect to be sentenced on the proofwhich such insolence amply gives; we require no other to proclaim yourdomineering spirit, and at once to condemn you as the premeditatedtyrant of land. "

"Lord Athol, " replied Wallace, "what is just I would say in the face ofall the courts in Christendom. It is not in the power of man to makeme silent when I see the laws of country outraged and my countrymenoppressed. Though I may submit my own cheek to the blow, I will notpermit theirs to share the stroke. I have answered you, earl, to thispoint and am ready to hear you to the end. "

Athol resumed. "I am not your only accuser, proudly-confident man; youshall see one whose truth cannot be doubted, and whose first glancewill bow that haughty spirit, and cover that bold front with the liveryof shame! My lord, " cried he, turning to the regent, "I shall bring amost illustrious witness before you; one who will prove on oath that itwas the intention of this arch-hypocrite, this angler for women'shearts, this perverter of men's understandings, before another moon tobury deep in blood the very people whom he now insidiously affects toprotect! But to open your and the nation's eyes at once, to overwhelmhim with his fate, I now call forth the evidence. "

The marshals opened a door in the side of the hall, and led a ladyforward, habited in regal splendor, and covered from head to foot witha veil of so transparent a texture, that her costly apparel andmajestic contour were distinctly seen through it. She was conducted toa chair on an elevated platform a few paces from where Wallace stood. On her being seated the regent rose, and in a tremulous voice addressedher:

"Joanna, Countess of Strathearn and Mar, Princess of the Orkneys, weadjure thee by thy princely dignity, and in the name of the King ofkings, to bear a just witness to the truth or falsehood, of the chargesof treason and conspiracy now brought against Sir William Wallace. "

The name of his accuser made Wallace start; and the sight of herunblushing face, for she threw aside her veil the moment she wasaddressed, overspread his cheek with a tinge of that shame for herwhich she was now too hardened in determined crime to feel herself. Edwin gazed at her in speechless horror; while she, casting a glance atWallace, in which the full purpose of her soul was declared, turnedwith a softened though majestic air, to the regent, and spoke:

"My lord, " said she, "you see before you a woman, who never knew whatit was to feel a self-reproachful pang till an evil hour brought her toreceive an obligation from that insidious treacherous man. But as myfirst passion has ever been the love of my country, I will prove it tothis good assembly by making a confession of what was once my heart'sweakness; and by that candor, I trust they will fully honor the rest ofmy narrative. "

A Clamor of approbation resounded through the hall. Lennox andLoch-awe looked on each other with amazement. Kirkpatrick, recollecting the scenes at Dumbarton, exclaimed--"Jezebel!"--but theejaculation was lost in the general burst of applause; and the countessopening a folded paper which she held in her hand, in a calm, collectedvoice, but with a flushing cheek, resumed:

"I shall read my further deposition. I have written it, that my memorymight not err, and that my country may be unquestionably satisfied ofthe accuracy of every syllable I utter. "

She paused an instant, drew a quick breath, and proceeded reading fromthe paper, thus: (But as occasion occurred for particularly pointingits contents, she turned her tutored eye upon the object, to look asignet on her mischief. )

"I am not to tell you, my lord, that Sir William Wallace twice releasedthe late Earl of Mar and myself from Southron captivity. Our delivererwas what you see him: fraught with attractions, which he toosuccessfully directed against the peace of a young woman married to aman of paternal years. While to all the rest of the world, he seemedto consecrate himself to the memory of his ill-fated wife, to me alonehe unveiled his straying heart. I revered my nuptial vow too sincerelyto listen to him with the complacency he wished; but, I blush to own, that his tears, his agonies of love, his manly graces, and the virtuesI believed he possessed (for well he knows to feign!), cooperating withmy gratitude, at last wrought such a change in my breast that--I becamewretched. No guilty wish was there; but an admiration of him, a pitywhich undermined my health, and left me miserable! I forbade him toapproach me. I tried to wrest him from my memory; and nearly hadsucceeded, when I was informed by my late husband's nephew--(the youthwho now stands beside Sir William Wallace)--that he was returned underan assumed name from France. Then I feared that all my inwardstruggles were to recommence. I had once conquered myself; forabhorring the estrangement of my thoughts from my wedded lord, when hedied I only yearned to appease my conscience; and in penance for myinvoluntary crime, I refused Sir William Wallace my hand. His returnto Scotland filled me with tumults, which only they who would sacrificeall they prize to a sense of duty, can know. Edwin Ruthven left me atHuntingtower; and, that very evening, while walking alone in thegarden, I was surprised by the sudden approach of an armed man. Hethrew a scarf over my head, to prevent my screams, but I fainted withterror. He then took me from the garden by the way he had entered, andplacing me on a horse before him, carried me whither I know not; but onmy recovery I found myself in a chamber, with a woman standing besideme, and the same warrior. His visor was so closed that I could not seehis face. On my expressing alarm at my situation, he addressed me inFrench, telling me he had provided a man to carry an excuse toHuntingtower, to prevent pursuit; and then he put a letter into myhand, which, he said, he brought from Sir William Wallace. Anxious toknow the purpose of this act, and believing that a man who had sworn tome devoted love could not premeditate a more serious outrage, I brokethe seal and, nearly as I can recollect, read to this effect:

"That his passion was so imperious, he had determined to make me his inspite of those sentiments of female delicacy which, while they torturedhim, rendered me dearer in his eyes. He told me, that as he had oftenread in my blushes the sympathy which my too severe virtue made meconceal, he would now wrest me from my cheerless widowhood; and havingnothing in reality to reproach myself with, compel me to be happy. Hisfriend, the only confidant of his love, had brought me to a spot whenceI could not fly; there I should remain, till he, Wallace, could leavethe army for a few days, and throwing himself on my compassion andtenderness, he received as the most faithful of lovers, the fondest ofhusbands. 

"This letter, " continued the countess, "was followed by many others;and suffice it to say, that the latent affection in my heart, and hissubduing love, were too powerful in his cause. How his letters wereconveyed I know not; but they were duly presented to me by the womanwho attended me. At last the knight who had brought me to the place, and who wore green armor, and a green plume, reappeared. "

"Prodigious villain!" broke from the lips of Edwin. 

The countess turned her eye on him for a moment and then resumed: "Hewas the warrior who had borne me from Huntingtower, and from that houruntil the period I now speak of, I had never seen him. He put anotherpacket into my hand, desiring me to peruse it with attention, andreturn Sir William Wallace a verbal answer by him. Yes! was all herequired. I retired to open it; and what was my horror, when I read aperfect development of the treasons for which he is now brought toaccount! By some mistake of my character, he had conceived me to beambitious; and knowing himself to be the master of my heart, he fanciedhimself lord of my conscience also. He wrote, that until he saw me, hehad no other end in his exertions for Scotland than her rescue from aforeign yoke; 'but, ' added he, 'from the moment in which I first beheldmy adored Joanna, I aspired to place a crown on her brow!" Be thentold me, that he did not deem the time of its presentation to him onthe Carse of Stirling a safe juncture for its acceptance; neither washe tempted to run the risk of maintaining an unsteady throne when I wasnot free to partake it; but since the death of Lord Mar, every wish, every hope was re-awakened; and then he determined to become a king. Philip of France had made secret articles with him to that end. He wasto hold Scotland of him. While to make the surrender of his country'sindependence sure to Philip, and its scepter to himself and hisposterity, he attempted to persuade me there would be no crime indestroying the chiefs whose names he enrolled in this list. The pope, he added, would absolve me from a transgression dictated by connubialduty; and, on our bridal day, he proposed the deed should be done. Hewould invite all the lords to a feast; and poison, or dagger, shouldlay them at his feet. 

"So impious a proposal restored me to myself. My love at once turnedto the most decided abhorrence; and hastening to the Knight of theGreen Plume, I told him to carry my resolution to his master, that Iwould never see him more till I should appear as his accuser before thetribunal of his country. The knight tried to dissuade me from mypurpose, but in vain, and at last, becoming alarmed at the punishmentwhich might overtake himself as the agent of such treason, he confessedto me that the scene of his first appearance at Linlithgow was devisedby Wallace, who, unknown to all others, had brought him from France toassist him in the scheme he durst not confide to Scotland's friends. If I would guarantee his life, he offered to take me from the placewhere I was then confined, and convey me safe to Stirling. All elsethat he asked was, that I would allow him to be the bearer of thecasket which contained Sir William Wallace's letters, and suffer myeyes to be blindfolded during the first part of our journey. This Iconsented to; but the murderous list I had undesignedly put into mybosom. My bead was again wrapped in a thick veil, and we set out. Itwas very dark; and we traveled long and swiftly till we came to a wood. There was neither moon nor stars to point out any habitation. Butbeing overcome with fatigue, my conductor persuaded me to dismount andtake rest. I slept beneath the trees. In the morning, when I awoke, Iin vain looked round for the knight and called him; he was gone; and Isaw him no more. I then explored my way to Stirling, to warn mycountry of its danger--to unmask to the world the direst hypocrite thatever prostituted the name of virtue. "

The countess ceased; and a hundred voices broke out at once, pouringinvectives on the traitorous ambition of Sir William Wallace, andinvoking the regent to pass some signal condemnation on so monstrous acrime. In vain Kirkpatrick thundered forth his indignant soul; he wasunheard in the tumult; but going up to the countess, he accused her toher face of falsehood, and charged her with a design from some reallytreasonable motive to destroy the only sure hope of her country. 

"And will you not speak?" cried Edwin in agony of spirit graspingWallace's arm; "will you not speak before these ungrateful men shalldare to brand your ever-honored name with infamy! Make yourself beheard, my noblest friend! Confute that wicked woman, who too surelyhas proved what I suspected--that this self-concealing knight came tobe a traitor. "

"I will speak, my Edwin, " returned Wallace, "at the proper moment; butnot in this tumult of my enemies. Rely on it, your friend will submitto no unjust decree. "

"Where is this Knight of the Green Plume?" cried Lennox, almoststartled in his opinion of Wallace by the consistency of the countess'narrative. "No mark of dishonor shall be passed on Sir William Wallacewithout the strictest scrutiny. Let the mysterious stranger be found, and confronted with Lady Strathearn. "

Notwithstanding the earl's insisting on impartial justice, sheperceived the doubt in his countenance, and eager to maintain heradvantage, replied--"The knight, I fear, has fled beyond our search;but that I may not want a witness to corroborate the love I once borethis arch-hypocrite, and, consequently, the sacrifice I make to loyaltyin thus unveiling him to the world, I call upon you, Lord Lennox, tosay whether you did not observe at Dumbarton Castle the state of my toograteful heart?"

Lennox, who well remembered her conduct in the citadel of thatfortress, hesitated to answer, aware that his reply might substantiatea guilt which he now feared would be but too strongly manifest. Everyear hung on his answer. Wallace saw what was passing in his mind; anddetermined to all men to show what was in their hearts toward the earland said, "Do not hesitate, my lord; speak all that you know or thinkof me. Could the deeds of my life be written on yon blue vault, " addedhe, pointing to the heavens, "and my breast be laid open for men toscan. I should be content; for then Scotland would know me as myCreator knows me; and the evidence which now makes even friendshipdoubt, would meet the reception due to calumny. "

Lord Lennox felt the last remark, and stung with remorse for having fora moment credited anything against the frank spirit which gave him thispermission, he replied, "To Lady Strathearn's questions I must answer, that at Dumbarton I did perceive her preference to Sir William Wallace;but I never saw anything in him to warrant the idea that it wasreciprocal. And yet, were it even so, that bears nothing to the pointof the countess' accusation; and, notwithstanding her princely rank, and the deference all would pay to the widow of Lord Mar, as trueScots, we cannot relinquish to a single witness our faith in a man whohas so eminently served his country. "

"No, " cried Loch-awe; "if the Knight of the Green Plume be aboveground, he shall be brought before this tribunal. He alone can be thetraitor; and to destroy us by exciting suspicions against our bestdefender, he has wrought with his own false pen this device to deceivethe patriotic widow of the Earl of Mar. "

"No, no, " interrupted she; "I read the whole in his own--to me too wellknown--handwriting; and this list of the chiefs, condemned by yon, indeed, traitor! to die, shall fully evince his guilt. Even your name, too generous earl, is in the horrid catalogue. " While she spoke, sherose eagerly, to hand to him the scroll. 

"Let me now speak, or stab me to the heart!" hastily whispered Edwin tohis friend. Wallace did not withhold him, for he guessed what would bethe remark of his ardent soul. "Hear that woman!" cried the vehementyouth to the regent, "and say whether she now speaks the language ofone who had ever loved the virtues of Sir William Wallace? Were sheinnocent of malice toward the deliverer of Scotland, would she not haverejoiced in Loch-awe's suggestion, that the Green Knight is thetraitor? Or, if that scroll she has now given into the regent's handbe too nicely forged for her to detect its not being indeed thehandwriting of the noblest of men, would she not have shown some sorrowat the guilt of one she professes once to have loved?--of one who savedherself, her husband, and her child from perishing! But here hermalice has overstepped her art; and after having promoted the successof her tale by so mingling insignificant truths with falsehoods ofcapital import--tbat in acknowledging the one we seem to grant theother--she falls into her own snare! Even a beardless boy can nowdiscern that, however vile the Green Knight may be, she shares hiswickedness!"

While Edwin spoke, Lady Stathearn's countenance underwent a thousandchanges. Twice she attempted to rise and interrupt him, but Sir RogerKirkpatrick having fixed his eyes on her with a menacing determinationto prevent her, she found herself obliged to remain quiescent. Full ofa newly-excited fear that Wallace had confided to her nephew the lastscene in his tent, she started up as he seemed to pause, and withassumed mildness, again addressing the regent, said--that before thisapparently ingenuous defense could mislead impartial minds, she thoughtit just to inform the council of the infatuated attachment of EdwinRuthven to the accused; for she had ample cause to assert that the boywas so bewitched by his commander--who had flattered his youthfulvanity by loading him with distinctions only due to approved valor inmanhood--that he was ready at any time to sacrifice every considerationof truth, reason, and duty, to please Sir William Wallace. 

"Such may be in a boy, " observed Lord Loch-awe, interrupting her "butas I know no occasion in which it is possible for Sir William Wallaceto falsify the truth, I call upon him, in justice to himself and to hiscountry, to reply to three questions!" Wallace bowed to the venerableearl, and he proceeded: "Sir William Wallace, are you guilty of thecharge brought against you, of a design to mount the throne of Scotlandby means of the King of France?"

Wallace replied, "I never designed to mount the throne of Scotland, either by my own means or by any other man's. "

Loch-awe proceeded: "Was this scroll, containing the names of certainScottish chiefs noted down for assassination, written by you, or underyour connivance?"

"I never saw the scroll, nor heard of the scroll, until this hour. Andharder than death is the pang at my heart when a Scottish chief findsit necessary to ask me such a question regarding a people, to save eventhe least of whom he has often seen me risk my life!"

"Another question, " replied Loch-awe, "and then, bravest of men, ifyour country acquits you not in thought and deed, Campbell of Loch-awesits no more amongst its judges! What is your knowledge of the Knightof the Green Plume, that, in preference to any Scottish friend, youshould intrust him with your wishes respecting the Countess ofStrathearn?"

Wallace's answer was brief: "I never had any wishes respecting the wifeor the widow of my friend the Earl of Mar that I did not impart toevery chief in the camp, and those wishes went no further than for hersafety. As to love, that is a passion I shall know no more; and LadyStrathearn alone can say what is the end she aims at, by attributingfeelings to me with regard to her which I never conceived, and wordswhich I never uttered. Like this passion, with which she says sheinspired me, " added he, turning his eyes steadfastly on her face, "wasthe Knight of the Green Plume! You are all acquainted with the mannerof his introduction to me at Linlithgow. By the account that he thengave of himself, you all know as much of him as I did, till on thenight that he left me at Berwick and then I found him, like this storyof Lady Strathearn, all a fable. "

"What is his proper title? Name him, on your knighthood!" exclaimedBuchan; "for he shall yet be dragged forth to support the veracity ofmy illustrious kinswoman, and to fully unmask his insidious accomplice!"

"Your kinswoman, Earl Buchan, " replied Wallace, "can best answer yourquestion. "

Lord Athol approached the regent, and whispered something in his ear. This unworthy representative of the generous Bruce, immediate rose fromhis seat. "Sir William Wallace, " said he, "you have replied to thequestions of Lord Loch-awe, but where are your witnesses to prove thatwhat you have spoken is the truth?"

Wallace was struck with surprise at this address from a man who, whatever might be demanded of him in the fulfillment of his office, hebelieved could not be otherwise than his friend because, from theconfidence reposed in him both by Bruce and himself, he must be fullyaware of the impossibility of these allegations being true. ButWallace's astonishment was only for a moment; he now saw with an eyethat pierced through the souls of the whole assembly, and, withcollected firmness, he replied; "My witnesses are in the bosom of everyScotsman. "

"I cannot find them in mine, " interrupted Athol. 

"Nor in mine!" was echoed from various parts of the hall. 

"Invalidate the facts brought against you by legal evidence, not a mererhetorical appeal, Sir William Wallace, " added the regent, "else thesentence of the law must be passed on so tacit an acknowledgment ofguilt. "

AAcknowledgment of guilt!" cried Wallace, with a flush of god-likeindignation suffusing his noble brow. "If any one of the chiefs whohave just spoken knew the beat of an honest heart, they would not havedeclared that they heard no voice proclaim the integrity of WilliamWallace. Let them look out on yon carse, where they saw me refuse thatcrown, offered by themselves, which my accuser alleges I would yetobtain by their blood. Let them remember the banks of the Clyde, whereI rejected the Scottish throne offered me by Edward! Let these factsbear witness for me; and, if they be insufficient, look on Scotland, now, for the third time, rescued by my arm from the grasp of a usurper! That scroll locks the door of the kingdom upon her enemies. " As hespoke he threw the capitulation of Berwick on the table. It struck apause into the minds of the lords; they gazed with pallid countenances, and without a word, on the parchment where it lay, while he proceeded:"If my actions that you see, do not convince you of my integrity, thenbelieve the unsupported evidence of words, the tale of a woman, whosemystery, were it not for the memory of the honorable man whose name sheonce bore, I would publicly unravel--believe her! and leave Wallacenaught of his country to remember, but that he has served it, and thatit is unjust!"

"Noblest of Scots!" cried Loch-awe, coming toward him, "did youraccuser come in the shape of an angel of light, still we believe yourlife in preference to her testimony, for God himself speaks on yourside. 'My servants, ' he declares, 'shall be known by their fruits!'And have not yours been peace to Scotland and good-will to men?"

"They are the serpent-folds of his hypocrisy!" cried-Athol, alarmed atthe awe-struck looks of the assembly. 

"They are the baits by which he cheats fools!" re-echoed Soulis. 

"They are snares, which shall catch us no more!" was now the generalacclamation; and in proportion to the transitory respect which had madethem bow, but for a moment, to virtue, they now vociferated theircenter both of Wallace and this his last achievement. Inflamed withrage at the manifest determination to misjudge his commander, andmaddened at the contumely with which their envy affected to treat him, Kirkpatrick threw off all restraint, and with the bitterness of hisreproaches still more incensed the jealousy of the nobles and augmentedthe tumult. Lennox, vainly attempting to make himself heard, drewtoward Wallace, hoping, by that movement to at least show on whose sidehe thought justice lay. At this moment, while the uproar raged withredoubled clamor--the one party denouncing the Cummins as the source ofthis conspiracy against the life of Wallace; the other demanding thatsentence should instantly be passed upon him as a traitor--the doorburst open and Bothwell, covered with dust, and followed by a throng ofarmed knights, rushed into the center of the hall. 

"Who is it ye arraign?" cried the young chief, looking indignantlyaround him. "Is it not your deliverer you would destroy? The Romanscould not accuse the guilty Manlius in sight of the capitol he hadpreserved, but you, worse thanheathens, bring your benefactor to the scene of his victories, andthere condemn him for serving you too well! Has he not plucked youthis third time out of the furnace that would have consumed you? Andyet in this hour, you would sacrifice him to the disappointed passionsof a woman! Falsest of thy sex!" cried he, turning to the countess, who shrunk before the penetrating eyes of Andrew Murray; "do I not knowthee? Have I not read thine unfeminine, thy vindictive heart? Youwould destroy the man you could not seduce! Wallace!" cried he, "speak. Would not this woman have persuaded you to disgrace the nameof Mar? When my uncle died, did she not urge you to intrigue for thatcrown which she knew you had so loyally declined?"

"My errand here, " answered Wallace, "is to defend myself, not to accuseothers. I have shown that I am innocent, and my judges will not lookon the proofs. They obey not the laws in their judgment, and whatevermay be the decree, I shall not acknowledge its authority. "

As he spoke he turned away, and walked with a firm step out of the hall. 

His disappearance gave the signal for a tumult more threatening to thewelfare of the state, than if the armies of Edward had been in themidst of them. It was brother against brother, friend against friend. The Lords Lennox, Bothwell, and Loch-awe, were vehement against theunfairness with which Sir William Wallace bad been treated; Kirkpatrickdeclared that no arguments could be used with men so devoid of reason, and words of reproach and reviling passing on all sides, swords werefiercely drawn. The Countess of Strathearn seeing herself neglected byeven her friends in the strife, and fearful that the party of Wallacemight at last gain the ascendancy, and that herself, then without hertraitor corslet on her breast, might meet their hasty vengeance, roseabruptly, and giving her hand to a herald, hurried out of the assembly. 

Chapter LXXIII. 

Ballochgeich. 

The marshals with difficulty interrupted the mortal attack which theenemies and friends of Wallace made on each other; several of theCummins were maimed, Lord Athol himself was severely wounded byKirkpatrick, but the teacherous regent glad1y saw that none on his sidewere hurt unto death. With horrid menaces the two parties separated, the one to the regent's apartments, the other to the camp of Wal1ace. 

Lord Bothwell found him encircled by his veterans, in whose breasts hewas trying to allay the storm raging there against the injustice of theregent and the ingratitude of the Scottish lords. At sight of theyoung and ardent Bothwell, their clamor to be led instantly to revengethe indignity offered to their general redoubled, and Murray, not lessincensed, turning to them exclaimed:

"Yes, my friends, keep quiet for a few hours, and then, what honorcommands we will do!" At this assurance they retired to theirquarters, and Bothwell turned with Wallace into his tent. 

"Before you utter a word concerning the present scenes, " cried Wallace, "tell me how is the hope of Scotland? the only earthly stiller of thesehorrid tumults!"

"Alas!" replied Bothwell. "After regaining, by a valor worthy of hisdestiny, every fortress north of the Forth, his last and greatestachievement was making himself master of Scone; but in storming itswalls a fragment of stone falling heavily, terribly rent the muscles ofhis breast, and now--woe to Scotland!--he lies at Huntingtower reducedto infant weakness. All this you would have known had you received hisletters; but villainy must have been widely at work, for none of yourshave reached his hands. 

This intelligence respecting Bruce was a more mortal blow to Wallacethan all he had just sustained in his own person. He remained silent, but his mind was thronged with thoughts. Was Scotland to be indeedlost? Was all that he had suffered and achieved to have been done invain? and should he be fated to behold her again made a sacrifice tothe jealous rivalry of her selfish and contending nobles?

Bothwell continued to speak of the prince, and added, that it was withreluctance he had left him, even to share the anticipated success atBerwick. But Bruce, impatient to learn the issue of the siege (asstill no letters arrived from that quarter), had dispatched him back tothe borders. At Dunfermline he was stricken with horror by theinformation that treason had been alleged against Wallace, and turninghis steps westward, he flew to give that support to his friend'sinnocence which the malignity of his enemies might render needful. 

"The moment I heard how you were beset, " continued Bothwell, "Idispatched a messenger to Lord Ruthven, warning him not to alarm Brucewith such tidings, but to send hither all the spare forces inPerthshire, to maintain you in your rights. "

"No force, my dear Bothwell, must be used so hold me in a power whichnow would only keep alive a spirit of discord in my country. If I dareapply the words of my Divine Master, I would say, I came not to bring asword but peace to the people of Scotland! Then, if they are weary ofme, let me go. Bruce will recover, they will rally round his standard, and all be well. "

"Oh, Wallace! Wallace!" cried Bothwell, "the scene I have this daywitnessed is enough to make a traitor of me. I could forswear myinsensible country--I could immolate its ungrateful chieftains on thosevery lands which your generous arm restored to these worthless men!"He threw himself into a seat, and leaned his burning forehead againsthis hand. 

"Cousin, you declare my sentiments, " rejoined Edwin; "my soul can neveragain associate with these sons of Envy. I cannot recognize acountryman in any one of them; and, should Sir William Wallace quit aland so unworthy of his virtues, where he goes I will go--his asylumshall be my country, and Edwin Ruthven will forget that he ever was aScot. "

"Never, " cried Wallace, turning on him one of those looks which struckconviction into the heart. "Is man more just than God? Though athousand of your countrymen offend you by their crimes, yet while thereremains one honest Scot, for his sake and his posterity it is your dutyto be a patriot. A nation is one great family, and every individual init is as much bound to promote the general good as a brother or afather to maintain the welfare of his nearest kindred. And it thetransgression of one son be no arouse for the omission of another, inlike manner, the ruin these turbulent lords would bring upon Scotlandis no excuse for your desertion of your interest. I would not leavethe helm of my country did she not thrust me from it; but though castby her into the waves, would you not blush for your friend should hewish her other than a peaceful haven?" Edwin spoke not, but puttingthe hand of Wallace to his lips, left the tent. 

"Oh!" cried Bothwell, looking after him, "that the breast of woman hadbut half that boy's tenderness! And yet all of that dangerous sex arenot like this hyena-hearted Lady Strathearn. Tell me, try friend, didshe not, when she disappeared so strangely from Huntingtower, fly toyou? I now suspect, from certain remembrances, that she and the GreenKnight are one aid the same person. Acknowledge it, and I will unmaskher at once to the court she has deceived. "

"She has deceived no one, " replied Wallace. "Before she spoke, themembers of that court were determined to brand me with guilt, and hercharge merely supplied the place of others which they would havedevised against me. Whatever she may be, my dear Bothwell, for thesake of whose name she once bore, let us not expose her to open shame. Her love or her hatred are alike indifferent to me now, for I neitherof them do I owe that innate malice of my countrymen which has onlymade her calumny the occasion of manifesting their resolution to makeme infamous. But that, my friend, is beyond her compass. I have donemy duty to Scotland, and that conviction must live in every honestheart--ay, and with dishonest too--for did they not fear my integrity, they would not have thought it necessary to deprive me of power. Heaven shield our prince! I dread that Badenoch's next shaft may be athim!"

"No, " cried Bothwell, "all is leveled at his best friend. In a lowvoice, I taxed the regent with disloyalty for permitting this outrageon you, and his basely envious answer was: 'Wallace's removal isBruce's security; who will acknowledge him when they know that this manis his dictator?'"

Wallace sighed at this reply, which only confirmed him in hisresolution, and he told Bothwell that he saw no alternative, if hewished to still the agitations of his country, and preserve its princefrom premature discovery, but to indeed remove the subject of all thesecontentions from their sight. 

"Attempt it not!" exclaimed Bothwell; "propose but a step toward thatend, and you will determine me to avenge my country, at the peril of myown life, on all in that accursed assembly who have menaced yours!" Inshort, the young earl's denunciations were so earnest against the lordsin Stirling, that Wallace, thinking it dangerous to exasperate himfurther, consented to remain in his camp till the arrival of Ruthvenshould bring him the advantage of his counsel. 

The issue showed that Bothwell was not mistaken. The majority of theScottish nobles envied Wallace his glory, and hated him for that virtuewhich drew the eyes of the people to compare him with their selfishcourses. The regent, hoping to become the first in Bruce's favor, wasnot less urgent to ruin the man who so deservedly stood the highest inthat prince's esteem. He had therefore entered warmly into the projectof Lady Strathearn. But when, during a select conference between them, previous to her open charge of Wallace, she named Sir Thomas deLongueville as one of his foreign emissaries, Cummin observed:

"If you would have your accusation succeed, do not mention that knightat all. He is my friend. He is now ill near Perth, and must knownothing of this affair till it be over. Should he live, he will noblythank you for your forbearance; should he die, I will repay you asbecomes your nearest kinsman. "

All were thus united in one determined effort to hurl Wallace from hisstation in the state. But when they believed that done, they quarreledamongst themselves in deciding who was to fill the great militaryoffice, which his prowess had now rendered a post rather of honor thanof danger. 

In the midst of these feuds Sir Simon Fraser abruptly appeared in thecouncil-hall. His countenance proclaimed his tidings. Lennox andLoch-awe (who had duly attended, in hopes of bringing over some of themore pliable chiefs to embrace the cause of justice) listened withsomething like exultation to his suddenly disastrous information. Whenthe English governor at Berwick learned the removal of Wallace from hiscommand and the consequent consternation of the Scottish troops, instead of surrendering at sunset as was expected, he sallied out atthe head of the whole garrison, and attacking the Scots by surprise, gave them a total defeat. Every outpost around the town was retaken bythe Southrons, the army of Fraser was cut to pieces or put to flight, and himself now arriving at Stirling, smarting with many a wound butmore under his dishonor, to show to the Regent of Scotland the evil ofhaving superseded the only man whom the enemy feared. The councilstood in silence, staring on each other; and, to add to their dismay, Fraser had hardly completed his narration, before a messenger fromTiviotdale arrived to inform the regent that King Edward was himselfwithin a few miles of the Cheviots; and, from the recovered position ofBerwick, must have even now poured his thousands over those hills uponthe plains beneath. While all the citadel was indecision, tumult, andalarm, Lennox hastened to Wallace's camp with the news. 

Lord Ruthven and the Perthshire chiefs were already there. They hadarrived early in the morning, but with unpromising tidings of Bruce. The state of his wound had induced a constant delirium. But stillWallace clung to the hope that his country was not doomed toperish--that its prince's recovery was only protracted. In the midstof this anxiety, Lennox entered; and relating what he had just heard, turned the whole current of the auditor's ideas. Wallace started fromhis seat. His hand mechanically caught up his sword, which lay uponthe table. Lennox gazed at him with animated veneration. "There isnot a man in the citadel, " cried he, "who does not appear at his wits'end, and incapable of facing this often-beaten foe. Will you, Wallace, again condescend to save a country that has treated you soungratefully?"

"I would die in its trenches!" cried the chief, with a generousforgiveness of all his injuries suffusing his magnanimous heart. 

Lord Loch-awe soon after appeared, and corroborating the testimony ofLennox added, that on the regent's sending word to the troops on thesouth of Stirling, that in consequence of the treason of Sir WilliamWallace the supreme command was taken from him, and they mustimmediately march out under the orders of Sir Simon Fraser, to face anew incursion of the enemy, they began to murmur among themselves, saying that since Wallace was found to be a traitor, they knew not whomto trust; but certainly it should not be a beaten general. With thesewhisperings, they slid away from their standards; and when Loch-aweleft them they were dispersed on all sides, like an already discomfitedarmy. 

CHAPTER LXXIV. 

Arthur's Seat. 

For a day or two the paralyzed terrors of the people, and the tumultsin the citadel, seemed portentous of immediate ruin. A largedetachment from the royal army had entered Scotland by the marine gateof Berwick; and, headed by De Warenne, was advancing rapidly towardEdinburgh. Not a soldier belonging to the regent remained on thecarse; and the distant chiefs to whom he sent for aid refused it, alleging that the discovery of Wallace's patriotism having been adelusion, had made them suspect all men; and, now locking themselveswithin their own castles, each true Scot would there securely view astruggle in which they could feel no personal interest. 

Seeing the danger of the realm, and hearing from the Lords Ruthven andBothwell that their troops would follow no other leader than SirWilliam Wallace, and hopeless of any prompt decision from amongst thecontusion of the council, Badenoch yielded a stern assent to the onlyapparent means of saving his sinking country. He turned ashy pale, while his silence granted to Lord Loch-awe the necessity of imploringSir William Wallace to again stretch out his arm in their behalf. Withthis embassy the venerable chief had returned exultingly toBallochgeich; and the so lately branded Wallace, branded as theintended betrayer of Scotland, was solicited by his very accusers toassume the trust of their sole defense!

"Such is the triumph of virtue!" whispered Edwin to his friend, as hevaulted on his horse. 

A luminous smile from Wallace acknowledged that he felt the tributeand, looking up to Heaven ere he placed his helmet on his head, he said:

"Thence comes my power! and the satisfaction it brings, whetherattended by man's applause or his blame, he cannot take from me. Inow, perhaps for the last time, arm this head for Scotland. May theGod in whom I trust again crown it with victory, and forever after bindthe brows of our rightful sovereign with peace!"

While Wallace pursued his march, the regent was quite at a stand, confounded at the turn which events had taken, and hardly knowingwhether to make another essay to collect forces for the support oftheir former leader, or to follow the refractory counsels of his lords, and await in inactivity the issue of theexpected battle. He knew not bow to act, but a letter from LadyStrathearn decided him. 

Though partly triumphant in her charges, yet the accusations ofBothwell had disconcerted her; and though the restoration of Wallace tohis undisputed authority in the state; seemed to her next toimpossible, still she resolved to take another step, to confirm herinfluence over the discontented of her country, and most likely toinsure the vengeance she panted to bring upon her victim's head. Tothis end, on the very evening that she retreated in terror from thecouncil hall, she set forward to the borders; and, easily passingthence to the English camp (then pitched at Alnwick), was soon admittedto the castle, where De Warenne lodged. She was too well taught in theschool of vanity not to have remarked the admiration with which thatearl had regarded her while he was a prisoner in Stirling; and, hopingthat he might not be able to withstand the persuasion of her charms, she opened her mission with no less art than effect. De Warren wasmade to believe, that on the strength of a passion Wallace hadconceived for her, and which she treated with disdain, he had repentedof his former refusal of the crown of Scotland; and, misled by a hopethat she would not repeat her rejection of his hand could it presenther a scepter, he was now attempting to compass that dignity by themost complicated intrigues. She then related how, at her instigation, the regent had deposed him from his military command, and she endedwith saying, that impelled by loyalty to Edward (whom her better reasonnow recognized as the lawful sovereign of her country), she had come toexhort that monarch to renew his invasion of the kingdom. 

Intoxicated with her beauty, and enraptured, by a manner which seemedto tell him that a softer sentiment than usual had made her select himas the embassador to the king, De Warenne greedily drank in all herwords; and ere he allowed this, to him, romantic conference to breakup, he had thrown himself at her feet, and implored her, by everyimpassioned argument, to grant him the privilege of presenting her toEdward as his intended bride. De Warenne was in the meridian of life;and being fraught with a power at court beyond most of his peers, shedetermined to accept his hand and wield its high influence to thedestruction of Wallace, even should she be compelled in the act toprecipitate her country in his fall. De Warenne drew from her ahalf-reluctant consent; and, while he poured forth the transports of ahappy lover, he was not so much enamored of the fine person of LadyStrathearn as to be altogether insensible to the advantages which hisalliance with her would give to Edward in his Scottish pretensions. And as it would consequently increase his own importance with thatmonarch, he lost no time in communicating the circumstances to him. Edward suspected something in this sudden attachment of the countess, which, should it transpire, might cool the ardor of his officer foruniting so useful an agent to his cause; therefore, having highlyapproved De Warenne's conduct in affair, to hasten the nuptials, heproposed being present at their solemnization that very evening. Thesolemn vows which Lady Strathearn then pledged at the altar to bepronounced by her with no holy awe of the marriage contract; but ratheras those alone by which she swore to complete her revenge on Wallace, and, by depriving him of life, prevent the climax to her misery, ofseeing him (what she believed he intended to become) the husband ofHelen Mar. 

The day after she became De Warenne's wife, she accompanied him by seato Berwick; and from that place she dispatched messengers to theregent, and to other nobles, her kinsmen, fraught with promises, whichEdward, in the event of success had solemnly pledged himself to ratify. Her embassador arrived at Stirling the day succeeding that in whichWallace and his troops had marched from Ballochgeich. The lettersbrought were eagerly opened by Badenoch and his chieftains, and theyfound their contents to this effect. She announced to them hermarriage with the lord warden, who was returned into Scotland withevery power for the final subjugation of the country; and therefore shebesought the regent and his council, not to raise a hostile arm againsthim if they would not merely escape the indignation of a great king, but insure his favor. She cast out hints to Badenoch, as if Edwardmeant to reward his acquiescence with the crown of Scotland; and withsimilar baits, proportioned to the views of all her other kinsmen, shesmoothed their anger against that monarch's former insults persuadingthem to at least remain inactive during the last struggle of theircountry. 

Meanwhile Wallace, taking his course along the banks of the Forth, whenthe night drew near, encamped his little army at the base of thecraigs, east of Edinburgh Castle. His march having been long andrapid, the men were much fatigued, and hardly were laid upon theirheather beds before they fell asleep. Wallace had learned from his scouts that the main body of the Southronshad approached within a few miles of Dalkeith. Thither he hoped to gonext morning, and there, he trusted, strike the conclusive blow forScotland, by the destruction of a division which he understoodcomprised the flower of the English army. With these expectations hegladly saw his troops lying in that repose which would rebrace theirstrength for the combat, and, as the hours of night stole on while hispossessed mind waked for all around, he was pleased to see hisever-watchful Edwin sink down in a profound sleep. 

It was Wallace's custom, once at least in the night, to go himself therounds of his posts, to see that all was safe. The air was serene andhe walked out on this duty. He passed from line to line, from stationto station, and all was in order. One post alone remained to bevisited, and that was a point of observation on the craigs nearArthur's Seat. As he proceeded along a lonely defile between the rockswhich overhang the ascent of the mountain, he was startled by theindistinct sight of a figure amongst the rolling vapors of the night, seated on a towering cliff directly in the way he was to go. The broadlight of the moon, breaking from behind the clouds, shone full upon thespot, and discovered a majestic form in gray robes, leaning on a harp;while his face, mournfully gazing upward, was rendered venerable by along white beard that mingled with the floating mist. Wallace paused, and stopping some distance from this extraordinary apparition, lookedon it in silence. The strings of the harp seemed softly touched, butit was only the sighing of a transitory breeze passing over them. Thevibration ceased, but, in the next moment the hand of the master indeedstruck the chords, and with so full and melancholy a sound that Wallacefor a few minutes was riveted to the ground; then moving forward with abreathless caution, not to disturb the nocturnal bard, he gentlyapproached. He was, however, descried! The venerable figure claspedhis hands, and in a voice of mournful solemnity exclaimed:

"Art thou come, doomed of Heaven, to hear thy sad coronach?" Wallacestarted at this salutation. The bard, with the same emotion, continued; "No choral hymns hallow thy bleeding corpse--wolves howl thyrequiem--eagles scream over thy desolate grave! Fly, chieftain, fly!"

"What, venerable father of the harp, " cried Wallace, interrupting theawful pause, "thus addresses one whom he must mistake for some otherwarrior?"

"Can the spirit of inspiration mistake its object?" demanded the bard. "Can he whose eyes have been opened be blind to Sir William Wallace--tothe blood which clogs his mounting footsteps?"

"And what or who am I to understand art thou?" replied Wallace. "Whois the saint whose holy charity would anticipate the obsequies of a manwho yet may be destined to a long pilgrimage?"

"Who I am, " resumed the bard, "will be sthown to thee when thou hastpassed yon starry firmament. But the galaxy streams with blood; thebugle of death is alone heard; and thy lacerated breast heaves in vainagainst the hoofs of opposing squadrons. They charge--Scotland falls!Look not on me, champion of thy country! Sold by thineenemies--betrayed by thy friends! It was not the seer of St. Anton whogave thee these wounds--that heart's blood was not drawn by me: awoman's hand in mail, ten thousand armed warriors strike the mortalsteel--he sinks, he falls! Red is the blood of Eske! Thy vital streamhath dyed it. Fly, bravest of the brave, and live! Stay, and perish!" With a shriek of horror, and throwing his aged arms extended towardthe heavens, while his gray beard mingled in the rising blast, the seerrushed from sight. Wallace saw the misty rocks alone, and was left inawful solitude. 

For a few minutes he stood in profound silence. His very soul seemeddeprived of power to answer so terrible a denunciation, with even aquestioning thought. He had heard the destruction of Scotlanddeclared, and himself sentenced to perish if he did not escape thegeneral ruin by flying from her side! This terrible decree of fate, sodisastrously corroborated by the extremity of Bruce, and the divisionsin the kingdom, had been sounded in his ear, had been pronounced by oneof those sages of his country, on whom the spirit of prophecy, it wasbelieved, yet descended, with all the horrors of a woe-denouncingprophet. Could he then doubt its truth? He did not doubt; he believedthe midnight voice he had heard. But recovering from the first shockof such a doom, and remembering that it still left the choice tohimself, between dishonored life or glorious death, he resolved to showhis respect to the oracle by manifesting a persevering obedience to theeternal voice which gave those agents utterance: and while he bowed tothe warning, he vowed to be the last who should fall from the side ofhis devoted country. "If devoted, " cried he, "then our fates shall bethe same. My fall from thee shall be into my grave. Scotland may havestruck the breast the breast that shielded her, yet, Father of Mercies, forgive her blindness, and grant me still permission a little longer tooppose my heart between her and this fearful doom!"

CHAPTER LXXV. 

Dalkeith. 

Awed, but not intimidated by the prophecy of the seer, Wallace next daydrew up his army in order for the new battle near a convent ofCistercian monks on the narrow plain of Dalkeith. The two rivers Eske, flowing on each side of the little phalanx, formed a temporary barrierbetween it and the pressing legions of De Warenne. The earl's troopsseemed countless, while the Southron lords who led them on, beingelated by the representations which the Countess of Strathearn hadgiven to them of the disunited state of the Scottish army, and theconsequent dismay which had seized their hitherto all-conqueringcommander, bore down upon the Scots with an impetuosity whichthreatened their universal destruction. Deceived by the blandishingfalsehoods of his bride, De Warenne had entirely changed his formeropinion of his brave opponent, and by her sophistries having broughthis mind to adopt stratagems of intimidation unworthy of his nobleness(so contagious is baseness, in too fond a contact with theunprincipled!), he placed himself on an adjoining height, intendingfrom that commanding post to dispense his orders and behold his victory. 

"Soldiers!" cried he, "the rebel's hour is come. The sentence ofHeaven is gone forth against him. Charge resolutely, and he and hishost are yours!"

The sky was obscured; an awful stillness reigned through the air, andthe spirits of the mighty dead seemed leaning from the clouds, towitness this last struggle of their sons. Fate did indeed hover overthe opposing armies. She descended on the head of Wallace, anddictated from amidst his waving plumes. She pointed his spear, shewielded his flaming sword, she charged with him in the dreadful shockof battle. De Warenne saw his foremost thousands fall. He heard theshouts of the Scots, the cries of his men, and the plains of Stirlingrose to his remembrance. He hastily ordered the knights around him tobear his wife from the field; and descending the field to lead forwardhimself, was met and almost overwhelmed by his flying troops; horseswithout riders, men without shield or sword, but all in dismay, rushedpast him. He called to them, he waved the royal standard, he urged, hereproached, he rallied, and led them back again. The fightrecommenced. Long and bloody was the conflict. De Warenne fought forconquest and to recover a lost reputation. Wallace contended for hiscountry, and to show himself always worthy of her latest blessing"before he should go hence and be no more seen. "

The issue declared for Scotland. But the ground was covered with theslain, and Wallace chased a wounded foe with troops which dropped asthey pursued. At sight of the melancholy state of his intrepidsoldiers, he tried to check their ardor, but in vain. 

"It is for Wallace that we conquer!" cried they; "and we die, or provehim the only captain in this ungrateful country. "

Night compelled them to halt, and while they rested on their arms, Wallace was satisfied that he had destroyed the power of De Warenne. As he leaned on his sword, and stood with Edwin near the watch-fire, over which that youthful hero kept a guard, he contemplated withgenerous forbearance the terrified Southrons as they fled precipitatelyby the foot of the hill toward the Tweed. Wallace now told his friendthe history of his adventure with the seer of the craigs, and findingwithin himself how much the brightness of true religion excludes theglooms of superstition, he added, "The proof of the Divine Spirit inprophecy is its completion. Hence let the false seer I met last nightwarn you, my Edwin, by my example, how you give credit to anyprediction that might slacken the sinews of duty. God can speak butone language. He is not a man, that he should repent; neither amortal, that he should change his purpose. This prophet of Baalbeguiled me into a credence of his denunciation; but not to adopt theconduct his offered alternative would have persuaded me to pursue. Inow see that he was a traitor in both, and henceforth shall read myfate in the oracles of God alone. Obeying them, my Edwin, we need notfear the curses of our enemy, nor the lying of suborned soothsayers. "

The splendor of this victory struck to the souls of the council atStirling, but with no touch of remorse. Scotland being again rescuedfrom the vengeance of her implacable foe, the disaffected lords in thecitadel affected to spurn at her preservation, declaring to the regentthat they would rather bear the yoke of the veriest tyrant in the worldthan owe a moment of freedom to the man who (they pretended to believe)had conspired against their lives. And they had a weighty reason forthis decision: though De Warenne was beaten, his wife was a victor. She had made Edward triumphant in the venal hearts of her kinsmen; goldand her persuasions, with promises of future honors from the King ofEngland, had sealed them entirely his. All but the regent was ready tocommit everything into the hands of Edward. The rising favor of theseother lords with the court of England induced him to recollect that hemight rule as the unrivaled friend of Bruce, should that prince live;or, in case of his death, he might have it in his own power to assumethe Scottish throne untrammeled. These thoughts made him fluctuate, and his country found him as undetermined in treason as unstable infidelity. 

Immediately on the victory at Dalkeith, Kirkpatrick (eager to be thefirst communicator of such welcome news to Lennox, who had plantedhimself as a watch at Stirling) withdrew secretly from Wallace's camp, and, hoping to move the gratitude of the refractory lords, entered fullof honest joy into the midst of their council. 

He proclaimed the success of his commander. His answer was accusationsand insults. All that had been charged against the too-fortunateWallace, was re-urged with added acrimony. Treachery to the state, hypocrisy in morals, fanaticism in religion--no stigma was tooextravagant, too contradictory, to be affixed to his name. They whohad been hurt in the fray in the hall, pointed to their still smartingwounds, and called upon Lennox to say if they did not plead against sodangerous a man?

"Dangerous to your crimes, and ruinous to your ambition!" criedKirkpatrick; for so help me God, I believe that an honester man thanWilliam Wallace lives not in Scotland! And that ye know, and hisvirtues overtopping your littleness, ye would uproot the greatnesswhich ye cannot equal. "

This speech, which a burst of indignation had wrested from him, broughtdown the wrath of the whole party upon himself. Lord Athol, yet stungwith his old wound, furiously struck him; Kirkpatrick drew his sword, and the two chiefs commenced a furious combat, each determined on theextirpation of the other. Gasping with almost the last breathings oflife, neither could be torn from their desperate revenge, till manywere hurt in attempting to separate them; and then the two were carriedoff insensible, and covered with wounds. 

When this sad news was transmitted to Sir William Wallace, it found himon the banks of the Eske, just returned from the citadel of Berwick, where, once more master of that fortress, he had dictated the terms ofa conqueror and a patriot. 

In the scene of his former victories, the romantic shades ofHawthorndean, he now pitched his triumphant camp; and from its verdantbounds dispatched the requisite orders to the garrisoned castles on theborders. While employed in this duty, his heart was wrung by anaccount of the newly-aroused storm in the citadel of Stirling; but assome equivalent, the chieftains of Mid-Lothian poured in on him onevery side; and, acknowledging him their protector, he again foundhimself the idol of gratitude, and the almost deified object of trust. At such a moment, when the one voice they were disclaiming allparticipation in the insurgent proceedings at Stirling, anothermessenger arrived from Lord Lennox, to conjure him, if he would avoidopen violence or secret treachery, to march his victorious troopsimmediately to that city, and seize the assembled abthanes** at once astraitors to their country. "Resume the regency, " added he; "which youonly know how to conduct; and crush a treason which, increasing hourly, now walks openly in the day, threatening all that is virtuous, orfaithful to you. "

**Abthanes, which means the great lords, was a title of pre-eminencegiven to the higher order of chiefs. 

He did not hesitate to decide against this counsel, for, in followingit, it could not be one adversary he must strike, but thousands. "I amonly a brother to my countrymen, " said he to himself, "and have noright to force them to their duty. When their king appears, then theserebellious heads may be made to bow. " While he mused upon the letterof Lennox, Ruthven entered the recess of the tent, whither he hadretired to read it. 

"I bring you better news of our friends at Huntingtower, " cried thegood lord. "Here is a packet from Douglas, and another from my wife. "

Wallace gladly read them, and found that Bruce was relieved from hisdelirium; but so weak, that his friends dared not hazard a relapse byimparting to him any idea of the proceedings at Stirling. All he knewwas, that Wallace was victorious in arms, and panting for his recoveryto render such success really beneficial to his country! Helen andIsabella, with the sage of Ercildown, were the prince's unweariedattendants; and though his life was yet in extreme peril, it was to behoped that their attentions, and his own constitution, would finallycure the wound, and conquer its attendant fever. Comforted with thesetidings, Wallace declared his intentions of visiting his sufferingfriend as soon as he could establish any principle in the minds of hisfollowers to induce them to bear, even for a little time, with theinsolence of the abthanes. "I will then, " said he, "watch by the sideof our beloved Bruce till his recovered health allows him to proclaimhimself king; and with that act I trust all these feuds will be foreverlaid to sleep!" Ruthven participated in these hopes, and the friendsreturned into the council-tent. But all there was changed. Most ofthe Lothian chieftains had also received messages from their friends inStirling. Allegations against Wallace; arguments to prove "the policyof submitting themselves and their properties to the protection of agreat and generous king, though a foreigner, rather than to risk all byattaching themselves to the fortunes of a private person, who madetheir services the ladder of his ambition, " were the contents of theirpackets; and they had been sufficient to shake the easy faith to whichthey were addressed. On the reentrance of Wallace, the chieftains, stole suspicious glances at each other, and, without a word, glidedseverally out of the tent. 

CHAPTER LXXVI. 

Hawthorndean. 

Next morning, instead of coming as usual directly to their acknowledgedprotector, the Lothian chieftains were seen at different parts of thecamp, closely conversing in groups; and when any of Wallace's officersapproached, they separated, or withdrew to a greater distance. Thisstrange conduct Wallace attributed to its right source, and thought ofBruce with a sigh, when he contemplated the variable substance of thesemen's minds. However, he was so convinced that nothing but theproclamation of Bruce, and that prince's personal exertions, couldpreserve his country from falling again into the snare from which hehad just snatched it, that he was preparing to set out for Perthshirewith such persuasions, when Ker hastily entered his tent. He wasfollowed by the Lord Soulis, Lord Buchan, and several other chiefs ofequally hostile intentions. Soulis did not hesitate to declare hiserrand. 

"We come, Sir William Wallace, by the command of the regent, and theassembled abthanes of Scotland, to take these brave troops, which haveperformed such good service to their country, from the power of a manwho, we have every reason to believe, means to turn their arms againstthe liberties of the realm. Without a pardon from the state; withoutthe signature of the regent; in contempt of court, which, having foundyou guilty of high treason, had in mercy delayed to pronounce thesentence on your crime, you have presumed to place yourself at the headof the national troops, and to take to yourself the merit of a victorywon by their prowess alone! Your designs are known, and the authorityyou have despised is now roused to punish. You are to accompany usthis day to Stirling. We have brought a guard of four thousand men tocompel your obedience. "

Before the indignant spirit of Wallace could utter the answer hiswrongs dictated, Bothwell, who at sight of the regent's troops hadhastened to his general's tent, entered, followed by his chieftains:"Were your guard forty thousand, instead of four, " cried he, "theyshould not force our commander from us--they should not extinguish theglory of Scotland beneath the traitorous devices of hell-engenderedenvy and murderous cowardice. "

Soulis turned on him with eyes of fire, and laid his hand on his sword. 

"Ay, cowardice!" reiterated Bothwell; "the midnight ravisher, theslanderer of virtue, the betrayer of his country, knows in his heartthat he fears to draw aught but the assassin's steel. He dreads thescepter of honor: Wallace must fall, that vice and her votaries mayreign in Scotland. A thousand brave Scots lie under these sods, and athousand yet survive who may share their graves; but they never willrelinquish their invincible leader into the hands of traitors!"

The clamors of the citadel of Stirling now resounded through the tentof Wallace. Invectives, accusations, threatenings, reproaches, andrevilings, joined in one turbulent uproar. Again swords were drawn;and Wallace, in attempting to beat down the weapons of Soulis andBuchan, aimed at Bothwell's heart, must have received the point ofSoulis' in his own body, had he not grasped the blade, and wrenching itout of the chief's hand, broke it into shivers: "Such be the fate ofevery sword which Scot draws against Scot!" cried he. "Put up yourweapons, my friends. The arm of Wallace is not shrunk, that he couldnot defend himself, did he think that violence were necessary. Hear mydetermination, once and forever!" added he. "I acknowledge noauthority in Scotland but the laws. The present regent and hisabthanes outrage them in every ordinance, and I should indeed be atraitor to my country did I submit to such men's behests. I shall notobey their summons to Stirling; neither will I permit a hostile arm tobe raised in this camp against their delegates, unless the violencebegins with them. This is my answer. " Uttering these words hemotioned Bothwell to follow him, and left the tent. 

Crossing a rude plank-bridge, which then lay over the Eske, he met LordRuthven, accompanied by Edwin and Lord Sinclair. The latter came toinform Wallace that embassadors from Edward awaited his presence atRoslyn. 

"They came to offer peace to our distracted country, " cried Sinclair. 

"Then, " answered Wallace, "I shall not delay going where I may hear theterms. " Horses were brought; and, during their short ride, to preventthe impassioned representations of the still raging Bothwell, Wallacecommunicated, to his not less indignant friends, the particulars of thescene he had left. "These contentions must be terminated, " added he;"and with God's blessing, a few days and they shall be so!"

"Heaven grant it!" returned Sinclair, thinking he referred to theproposed negotiation. "If Edward's offers be at all reasonable, Iwould urge you to accept them; otherwise invasion from without, andcivil commotion within, will probably make a desert of poor Scotland. "

Ruthven interrupted him: "Despair not, my lord! Whatever be the fateof this embassy, let us remember that it is our steadiest friend whodecides, and that his arm is still with us to repel invasion, tochastise treason!"

Edwin's eyes turned with a direful expression upon Wallace, while helowly murmured: "Treason! hydra treason!"

Wallace understood him, and answered: "Grievous are the alternatives, my friends, which your love for me would persuade you even to welcome. But that which I shall choose will, I trust, indeed lay the land atpeace, or point its hostilities to the only aim against which a trueScot ought to direct his sword at this crisis!"

Being arrived at the gate of Roslyn, Wallace, regardless of thoseceremonials which often delay the business they pretend to dignify, entered at once into the hall where the embassadors sat. Baron Hiltonwas one, and Le de Spencer (father of the young and violent envoy ofthat name) was the other. At sight of the Scottish chief they rose;and the good baron, believing he came on a propitious errand, smiling, said, "Sir William Wallace, it is your private ear I am commanded toseek. " While speaking, he looked on Sinclair and the other lords. "

"These chiefs are as myself, " replied Wallace; "but I will not impedeyour embassy by crossing the wishes of your master in a trifle. " Hethen turned to his friends: "Indulge the monarch of England in makingme the first acquainted with that which can only be a message to thewhole nation. "

The chiefs withdrew; and Hilton, without further parley, opened themission. He said that King Edward, more than ever impressed with thewondrous military talents of Sir William Wallace, and solicitous tomake a friend of so heroic an enemy, had sent him an offer of grace, which, if he contemned, must be the last. He offered him a theaterwhereon he might display his peerless endowments to the admiration ofthe world--the kingdom of Ireland, with its yet unreaped fields ofglory, and all the ample riches of its abundant provinces, should behis! Edward only required, in return for this royal gift, that heshould abandon the cause of Scotland, swear fealty to him for Ireland, and resign into his hands one whom he had proscribed as the mostungrateful of traitors. In double acknowledgment for the lattersacrifice Wallace need only send to England a list of those Scottishlords against whom he bore resentment, and their fates should beordered according to his dictates. Edward concluded his offers byinviting him immediately to London, to be invested with his newsovereignty; and Hilton ended his address by showing him the madness ofabiding in a country where almost every chief, secretly or openly, carried a dagger against his life; and therefore he exhorted him nolonger to contend for a nation so unworthy of freedom, that it borewith impatience the only man who had the courage to maintain itsindependence by virtue alone. 

Wallace replied calmly, and without hesitation:

"To this message an honest man can make but one reply. As well mightyour sovereign exact of me to dethrone the angels of heaven, as torequire me to subscribe to his proposals. They do but mock me; andaware of my rejection, they are thus delivered, to throw the wholeblame of this cruelly-persecuting war upon me. Edward knows that as aknight, a true Scot, and a man, I should dishonor myself to accept evenlife, ay, or the lives of all my kindred, upon these terms. "

Hilton interrupted him by declaring the sincerity of Edward; and, contrasting it with the ingratitude of the people whom he had served, he conjured him, with every persuasive of rhetoric, every entreatydictated by a mind that revered the very firmness he strove to shake, to relinquish his faithless country, and become the friend of a kingready to receive him with open arms. Wallace shook his head; and withan incredulous smile which spoke his thoughts of Edward, while his eyesbeamed kindness upon Hilton, he answered:

"Can the man who would bribe me to betray a friend, be faithful infriendship? But that is not the weight with me. I was not brought upin those schools, my good baron, which teach that sound policy or trueself-interest can be separated from virtue. When I was a boy, myfather often repeated to me this proverb:

"Dico tibi verum, honestas, optima rerum, Nunquam servili sub nexu vivitur fili. "**

** This saying of the parental teacher of Wallace is recorded. Itmeans, "Know of a certainty that virtue, the best of possessions, nevercan exist under the bond of servility. "

I learned it then; I have since made it the standard of my actions, andI answer your monarch in a word. Were all my countrymen to resigntheir claims to the liberty which is their right, I alone would declarethe independence of my country; and by God's assistance, while I live, acknowledge no other master than the laws of St. David, and thelegitimate heir of his blood!"

The glow of resolute patriotism which overspread his countenance whilehe spoke was reflected by a fluctuating color on that of Hilton. 

"Noble chief!" cried he; "I admire while I regret; I revere the virtuewhich I am even now constrained to denounce. These principles, bravestof men, might have suited the simple ages of Greece and Rome; a Phocionor a Fabricius might have uttered the like, and compelled the homage oftheir enemies; but in these days, such magnanimity is consideredfrenzy, and ruin is its consequence. "

"And shall a Christian, " cried Wallace, reddening with the flush ofhonest shame, "deem the virtue which even heathens practiced withveneration, of too pure a nature to be exercised by men taught byChrist himself? There is blasphemy in the idea, and I can hear nomore. "

Hilton, in confusion, excused his argument by declaring that itproceeded from his observations on the conduct of men. 

"And shall we, " replied Wallace, "follow a multitude to do evil? I actto one Being alone. Edward must acknowledge HIS supremacy, and by thatknow that my soul is above all price!"

"Am I answered?" said Hilton, and then hastily interrupting himself, headded, in a voice even of supplication; "your fate rests on your reply! Oh! noblest of warriors, consider only for the day!"

"Not for a moment, " said Wallace; "I am sensible of your kindness; butmy answer to Edward has been pronounced. "

Baron Hilton turned sorrowfully away, and Le de Spencer rose. 

"Sir William Wallace, my part of the embassy must be delivered to youin the assembly of your chieftains. "

"In the congregation of my camp?" returned he; and opening the door ofthe ante-room, in which his friends stood, he sent Edwin to summon hischiefs to the platform before the council tent. 

Chapter LXXVII. 

Wallace's Tent. 

When Wallace approached his tent, he found not only the captains of hisown army, but the followers of Soulis and the chieftains of Lothian. He looked on this range of his enemies with a fearless eye, and passingthrough the crowd, took his station beside the embassadors, on theplatform of the tent. The venerable Hilton turned away with tears onhis veteran cheeks as the chief advanced, and Le de Spencer cameforward to speak. Wallace, with a dignified action, requested hisleave for a few minutes, and then addressing the congregated warriorsunfolded to them the offer of Edward to him, and his reply. 

"And now, " added he, "the embassador of England is at liberty todeclare his master's alternative. "

Le de Spencer again advanced; but the acclamations with which thefollowers of Wallace acknowledged the nobleness of his answer, excitedsuch an opposite clamor on the side of the Soulis party, that Le deSpencer was obliged to mount a war carriage which stood near, and tovociferate long and loudly for silence before he could be heard. Butthe first words which caught the ears of his audience acted like aspell, and seemed to hold them in breathless attention. 

"Since Sir William Wallace rejects the grace of his liege lord, EdwardKing of England offered to him this once, and never to be againrepeated: thus saith the king in his clemency to the earls, barons, knights, and commonalty of Scotland! To every one of them, chief andvassal, excepting the aforesaid incorrigible rebel, he, the royalEdward, grants an amnesty of all their past treasons against his sacredperson and rule, provided that within twenty-four hours after they hearthe words of this proclamation they acknowledge their disloyalty, withrepentance, and laying down their arms, swear eternal fealty to theironly lawful ruler, Edward, the lord of the whole island from sea tosea. " Le de Spencer then proclaimed the King of England to be now onthe borders with an army of a hundred thousand men, ready to march withfire and sword into the heart of the kingdom, and put to the rack allof every sex, age, and condition, who should venture to dispute hisrights. "Yield, " added he, "while you may yet not only grasp the mercyextended to you, but the rewards and the honors he is ready to bestow. Adhere to that unhappy man, and by to-morrow's sunset your offendedking will be on these hills, and mercy shall be no more! Death is thedoom of Sir William Wallace, and a similar fate to every Scot who afterthis hour dares to give him food, shelter, or succor. He is theprisoner of King Edward, and thus I demand him at your hands!"

Wallace spoke not, but with an unmoved countenance looked around uponthe assembly. Edwin precipitated himself into his arms. Bothwell'sfull soul then forced utterance from his laboring breast:

"Tell your sovereign, " cried he, "that he mistakes. We are theconquerors who ought to dictate terms of peace! Wallace is ourinvincible leader, our redeemer from slavery, the earthly hope in whomwe trust, and it is not in the power of men nor devils to bribe us tobetray our benefactor. Away to your king and tell him that AndrewMurray, and every honest Scot, is ready to live or to die by the sideof Sir William Wallace. "

"And by this good sword I swear the same!" cried Ruthven. 

"And so do I!" rejoined Scrymgeour, "or may the standard of Scotland bemy winding-sheet!"

"Or may the Clyde swallow us up, quick!" exclaimed Lockhart of Lee, shaking his mailed hand at the embassadors. 

But not another chief spoke for Wallace. Even Sinclair wasintimidated, and like others who wished him well, he feared to utterhis sentiments. But most, oh! shame to Scotland and to man, cast uptheir bonnets and cried aloud, "Long live Kind Edward, the onlylegitimate Lord of Scotland!" At this outcry, which was echoed even bysome in whom he had confided, while it pealed around him like a burstof thunder, Wallace threw out his arms, as if he would yet protectScotland from herself. "Oh! desolate people, " exclaimed he, in a voiceof piercing woe, "too credulous of fair speeches, and not aware of thecalamities which are coming upon you! Call to remembrance the miseriesyou have suffered, and start, before it be too late, from this lastsnare of your oppressor! Have I yet to tell ye that his embrace isdeath? Oh! look yet to Heaven and ye shall find a rescue!" Bruceseemed to rise at that moment in pale but gallant apparition before hissoul. **

**This speech is almost verbatim from one of our old historians. 

"Seize that rebellious man, " cried Soulis to his marshals. "In thename of the King of England I command you. "

"And in the name of the King of kings I denounce death on him whoattempts it!" exclaimed Bothwell, throwing himself between Wallace andthe men; "put forth a hostile hand toward him, and this bugle shallcall a thousand resolute swords to lay this platform in blood!"

Soulis, followed by his knights, pressed forward to execute his treasonhimself. Scrymgeour, Ruthven, Lockhart, and Ker rushed before theirfriend. Edwin, starting forward, drew his sword, and the clash ofsteel was heard. Bothwell and Soulis grappled together, the falchionof Ruthven gleamed amidst a hundred swords, and blood flowed around. The voice, the arm of Wallace, in vain sought to enforce peace; he wasnot heard, he was not felt in the dreadful warfare; Ker fell with agasp at his feet, and breathed no more. At such a sight thesoul-struck Wallace wrung his hands, and exclaimed in bitter anguish, "Oh, my country! was it for these horrors that my Marion died? that Ibecame a homeless wretch, and passed my days and nights in fields ofcarnage? Venerable Mar, dear and valiant Graham! is this theconsummation for which you fell?" At that moment Bothwell havingdisabled Soulis, would have blown his bugle to call up his men to ageneral conflict, but Wallace snatched the horn from his hand, andspringing upon the very war-carriage which Le de Spencer had proclaimedEdward's embassy, he drew forth his sword, and stretching the mightyarm that held it over the throng, with more than mortal energy heexclaimed, "Peace! men of Scotland, and for the last time hear thevoice of William Wallace. " A dead silence immediately ensued, and heproceeded: "If you have aught of nobleness within ye, if a delusionmore fell than witchcraft have not blinded your senses, look beyondthis field of horror, and behold your country free. Edward, in theseapparent demands, sues for peace. Did we not drive his armies into thesea? And were we resolved, he never could cross our borders more. What is it then you do, when you again put your necks under his yoke?Did he not seek to bribe me to betray you? And yet, when I refuse topurchase life and the world's rewards in such baseness, you--you forgetthat you are free-born Scots, that you are the victors, and he thevanquished; and you give, not sell, your birthright to the demands of atyrant! You yield yourselves to his extortions, his oppressions, hisrevenge! Think not he will spare the people he would have sold topurchase his bitterest enemy, or allow them to live unmanacled whopossess the power of resistance. On the day in which you are in hishands you will feel that you have exchanged honor for disgrace, libertyfor bondage, life for death! Me you abhor, and may God in yourextremest hour forget that injustice, and pardon the faithful blood youhave shed this day! I draw this sword for you no more. But there yetlives a prince, a descendant of the royal heroes of Scotland, whomProvidence may conduct to be your preserver. Reject the proposals ofEdward, dare to defend the freedom you now possess, and that princewill soon appear to crown your patriotism with glory and happiness!"

"We acknowledge no prince but King Edward of England!" cried Buchan. "His countenance our glory, his presence our happiness!"

The exclamation was reiterated by a most disgraceful majority on theground. Wallace was transfixed. 

"Then, " cried Le de Spencer in the first pause of the tumult, "to everyman, woman, and child throughout the realm of Scotland, excepting SirWilliam Wallace, I proclaim, in the name of King Edward, pardon andpeace. "

At these words several hundred Scottish chieftains dropped on theirknees before Le de Spencer, and murmured their vows of fealty. Indignant, grieved, Wallace took his helmet from his head, and throwinghis sword into the hand of Bothwell, "That weapon, " cried he, "which Iwrested from this very King Edward, and with which I twice drove himfrom our borders, I give it to you. In your hands it may again serveScotland, I relinquish a soldier's name, on the spot where I humbledEngland three times in one day, where I now see my victorious countrydeliver herself, bound, into the grasp of the vanquished! I go withoutsword or buckler from this dishonored field, and what Scot, my publicor private enemy, will dare to strike the unguarded head of WilliamWallace?" As he spoke, he threw his shield and helmet to the ground, and leaping from the war-carriage, took his course, with a fearless anddignified step, through the parting ranks of his enemies, who, awe-struck, or kept in check by a suspicion that others might notsecond the attack they would have made on him, durst not lift an arm orbreathe a word as he passed. 

Wallace had adopted this manner of leaving the ground, in hopes, if itwere possible, to awaken the least spark of honor in the breasts of hispersecutors, to prevent the bloodshed which must ensue between hisfriends and them, should they attempt to seize him. Edwin and Bothwellimmediately followed him; but Lockhart and Scrymgeour remained to takecharge of the remains of the faithful Ker, and to observe the tendencyof the tumult which began to murmur amongst the lower orders of thebystanders. 

Chapter LXXVIII. 

Banks of the Eske. 

A vague suspicion of the regent and his thanes, and yet a panic-struckpusillanimity, which shrunk from supporting that Wallace whom thosethanes chose to abandon, carried the spirit of slavery from theplatform before the council tent, to the chieftains who thronged theranks of Ruthven, and even to the perversion of some few who hadfollowed the golden-haired standard of Bothwell. The brave troops ofLanark (which the desperate battle of Dalkeith reduced to not more thansixty men) alone remained unmoved; so catching is the quailing spiritof doubt, abjectness, and fearful submission. 

In the moment when the indignant Ruthven saw his Perthshire legionsrolling off toward the trumpet of Le de Spencer, Scrymgeour placedhimself at the head of the men of Lanark. Unfurling the banner ofScotland, he marched with a steady step to the tent of Bothwell, whither he did not doubt that Wallace had retired. He found himassuaging the impassioned grief of Edwin, and striving to moderate thevehement wrath of the faithful Murray, "Pour not out the energy of yoursoul upon these worthless men!" said he; "leave them to the fates theyseek--the fates they have incurred by the innocent blood shed this day! The few brave hearts who yet remain loyal to this country, areinsufficient to stem at this spot the torrent of corruption. Retirebeyond the Forth, my friend. Rally all true Scots around Huntingtower. Let the royal inmate proclaim himself, and, at the foot of theGrampians, lock the gates of the Highlands upon our enemies. Fromthose bulwarks he will issue in strength, and Scotland may again befree!"

"Free, but never more honored!" cried Edwin; "never more beloved by me! Ungrateful, treacherous, base land, " added he, starting on his feet, and raising his clasped hands with the vehement abjuration of anindignant spirit; "oh, that the salt sea would ingulf thee atonce--that thy name and thy ingratitude could be no more remembered! Iwill never wear a sword for her again. "

"Edwin!" ejaculated Wallace, in a reproachful, yet tender tone. 

"Exhort me not to forgive my country!" returned he; "tell me to take mydeadliest foe to my breast--to pardon the assassin who strikes hissteel into my heart, and I will obey you; but to pardon Scotland forthe injury she has done to you--for the disgrace with which herself-debasement stains this cheek I never, never can! I abhor thesesons of Lucifer. Think not, noblest of masters, dearest of friends, "cried he, throwing himself at Wallace's feet, "that I will ever shinein the light of those envious stars which have displayed the sun! Notibi soli shall henceforth be the impress on my shield; to thee alonewill I ever turn; and till your beams restore your country and reviveme, the springing laurels of Edwin Ruthven shall whither where theygrew!"

Wallace folded him to his heart; a tear stood in his eyes, while hesaid in a low voice:

"If thou art mine, thou art Scotland's. Me, she rejects. MysteriousHeaven wills that I should quit my post; but for thee, Edwin, as arelic of the fond love I yet bear this wretched country, abide by her, bear with her, cherish her, defend her for my sake; and if Bruce lives, he will be to thee a second Wallace, a friend, a brother!"

Edwin listened, wept, and sobbed, but his heart was fixed; unable tospeak, he broke from his friend's arms, and hurried into an interiorapartment to subdue his emotions by pouring them forth to God. 

Ruthven joined in determined opinion with Bothwell, that if ever acivil war could be sanctified, this was the time; and in spite of allthat Wallace could urge against the madness of contending for hissupremacy over a nation which would not yield him obedience, still theyremained firm in their resolution. Bruce they hardly dared hope couldrecover; and to relinquish the guiding hand of their best approvedleader at this crisis, was a sacrifice, they said, no earthly powershould compel them to make. 

"So far from it, " cried Lord Bothwell, dropping on his knees, andgrasping the cross hilt of his sword in both hands, "I swear by theblood of the crucified Lord of this ungrateful world, that should Brucedie, I will obey no other king of Scotland than William Wallace!"

Wallace turned ashy pale as he listened to this vow. At that momentScrymgeour entered, followed by the Lanark veterans, and all kneelingdown, repeated the oath of Bothwell; then starting up, called on theoutraged chief, by the unburied corpse of his murdered Ker, to leadthem forth and avenge them of his enemies. 

When the agitation of his soul would allow him to speak to thisfaithful group, Wallace stretched his hands over them, and with suchtears as a father would shed who looks on the children he is to beholdno more, he said, in a subdued and faltering voice, "God will avengeour murdered friend; my sword is sheathed forever. May that holyBeing, who is the true and best King of the virtuous, always be presentwith you! I feel your love, and I appreciate it. But Bothwell, Ruthven, Lockhart, Scrymgeour, my faithful Lanark followers, leave meawhile to compose my scattered thoughts. Let me pass this night alone, and to-morrow you shall know the resolution of your grateful Wallace!"

The shades of evening were closing in, and the men of Lanark, firstobtaining his permission to keep guard before the wood which skirtedthe tent, respectfully kissing his hand, withdrew. Ruthven calledEdwin from the recess, whither he had retired to unburden his grief:but as soon as he heard that it was the resolution of his friends topreserve the authority of Wallace or to perish in the contest, thegloom passed from his fair brow, a smile of triumph parted his lips, and he exclaimed:

"All will be well again. We shall force this deluded nation torecognize her safety and her honor!"

While the determined chiefs held discourse so congenial with the wishesof the youthful knight, Wallace sat almost silent. He seemed revolvingsome momentous idea: he frequently turned his eyes on the speakers witha fixed regard, which appeared rather full of a grave sorrow thandemonstrative of any sympathy on the subjects of their discussion. OnEdwin he at times looked with penetrating tenderness; and when the bellfrom the neighboring convent sounded the hour of rest, he stretched outhis hand to him with a smile, which he wished should speak of comfortas well as of affection; but the soul spoke more eloquently than he hadintended: his smile was mournful, and the attempt to render itotherwise, like a transient light over a dark sepulcher, only the moredistinctly showed the gloom and melancholy within. 

"And am I, too, to leave you?" said Edwin. 

"Yes, my brother, " replied Wallace; "I have much to do with my ownthoughts this night. We separate now to meet more gladly hereafter. Imust have solitude to arrange my plans. To-morrow you shall know them. Meanwhile farewell!"

As he spoke he pressed the affectionate youth to his breast, and, warmly grasping the hands of his three other friends, bade them anearnest adieu. 

Bothwell lingered a moment at the tent-door, and looking back, "Letyour first plan be, that to-morrow you lead us to Lord Soulis'quarters, to teach the traitor what it is to be a Scot and a man!"

"My plans shall be deserving of my brave colleagues, " replied Wallace;"and whether they be executed on this or the other side of the Forth, you shall find, my long-tried Bothwell, that Scotland's peace and thehonor of her best sons are the dearest considerations of your friend. "

When the door closed, and Wallace was left alone, he stood for awhilein the midst of the tent, listening to the departing steps of hisfriends. When the last sound died on his ear, "I shall hear them nomore!" cried he; and throwing himself into a seat, he remained for anhour in a trance of grievous thoughts. Melancholy remembrances andprospects dire for Scotland pressed upon his surcharged heart. "It isto God alone I must confide my country!" cried he; "His mercy will pityits madness, and forgive its deep transgressions. My duty is to removethe object of ruin far from the power of any longer exciting jealousyor awakening zeal. " With these words, he took a pen in his hand towrite to Bruce. 

He briefly narrated the events which compelled him, if he would avoidthe grief of having occasioned a civil war, to quit his countryforever. The general hostility of the nobles, the unresistingacquiescence of the people in measures which menaced his life andsacrificed the freedom for which he had so long fought, convinced him, he said, that his warlike commission was now closed. He was summonedby Heaven to exchange the field for the cloister; and to the monasteryat Chartres he was now hastening, to dedicate the remainder of his daysto the peace of a future world. He then exhorted Bruce to confide inthe Lords Ruthven and Bothwell, as his soul would commune with hisspirit, for he would find them true unto death. He counseled him, asthe leading measure to circumvent the treason of Scotland's enemies, togo immediately to Kilchurn Castle, where he knew resources would be;for Loch-awe, who retired thither on the last approach of De Warenne, meaning to call out his vassals for that emergency, needed it not then;for the battle of Dalkeith was fought and gained before they couldleave their heights, and the victor did not want them afterward. Touse those brave and simple-hearted men for his establishment on thethrone of his kingdom, Wallace advised Bruce. And so, amidst thenatural fortresses of the Highlands, he might recover his health, collect his friends, and openly proclaim himself. "Then, " added he, "when Scotland is your oqn, let its bulwarks be its mountains and itspeople's arms. Dismantle and raze to the ground the castles of thosebase chiefs who have only embattled them to betray and enslave theircountry. " Though intent on these political suggestions, he ceased notto remember his own brave engines of war; and he earnestly conjured hisprince that he would wear the valiant Kirkpatrick as a buckler on hisheart; that he would place Scrymgeour with his Lanark veterans, and thefaithful Grimsby next him as his body-guard; and that he would love andcherish the brave and tender Edwin for his sake. "When my prince andfriend receives this, " added he, "Wallace shall have bidden an eternalfarewell to Scotland; but his heart will be amidst its hills. My king, and the friends most dear to me will still be there! The earthly partof my beloved wife rests within its bosom! But I go to rejoin hersoul; to meet it in the vigils of days consecrated wholly to theblessed Being in whose presence she rejoices forever. This is no saddestiny, my dear Bruce. Our Almighty Captain recalls me from dividingwith you the glory of maintaining the liberty of Scotland, but hebrings me closer to himself: I leave the plains of Gilgal to tread withhis angel the courts of my God. Mourn not, then, my absence; for myprayers will be with you till we are again united in the only placewhere you can fully know me as I am--thine and Scotland's never-dyingfriend! Start not at the bold epithet. My body may sink into thegrave, but the affections of my immortal spirit are eternal as itsessence, and, in earth or in heaven, I am ever yours. 

"Should the endearing Helen--my heart's sister--be near your couch whenyou read this, tell her that Wallace, in idea, presses her virgin cheekwith a brother's farewell; and from his inmost soul he blesses her. "

Messages of respectful adieus he sent to Isabella, Lady Ruthven, andthe sage of Ercildown; and then kneeling down in that posture, he wrotehis last invocations for the prosperity and happiness of Bruce. 

This letter finished, with a more tranquil mind he addressed LordRuthven; detailing to him his reasons for leaving such faithful friendsso clandestinely; and after mentioning his purpose of proceeding toFrance, he ended with those expressions of gratitude which the worthychief so well deserved; and exhorting him to transfer his public zealfor him to the maguanimous and royal Bruce, closed the letter withbegging him, for the sake of his friend, his king, and his country, toreturn immediately with all his followers to Huntingtower, and there torally round their prince. His letter to Scrymgeour spoke nearly thesame language. But when he began to write to Bothwell, to bid him thatfarewell which his heart foreboded would be forever in this world--topart from this, his steady companion in arms, his dauntless champion!he lost some of his composure; and his handwriting testified theemotion of his mind. How, then, was he shaken when he addressed theyoung and devoted Edwin, the brother of his soul? He dropped the penfrom his hand. At that moment he felt all he was going to relinquish, and he exclaimed, "Oh, Scotland! my ungrateful country; what is it youdo? Is it thus that you repay your most faithful servants? Is it notenough that the wife of my bosom, the companion of my youth, should betorn from me by your enemies; but your hand must wrest from my bereavedheart its every other solace? You snatch from me my friends; you woulddeprive me of my life. To preserve you from that crime, I imbitter thecup of death; I go far from the tombs of my fathers-from the grave ofmy Marion, where I have fondly hoped to rest!" His head sunk on hisarm; his heart gave way under the pressure of accumulated regrets, andfloods of tears poured from his eyes. Deep and frequent were hissighs--but none answered him. Friendship was far distant; and wherewas that gentle being who would have soothed his sorrow on her bosom?She it was he lamented. "Dreary, dreary solitude!" cried he, lookingaround him with an aghast perception of all that he had lost! "how haveI been mocked for these three long years! What is renown? what theloud acclaim of admiring throngs? what the loud acclaim of admiringthrongs? what the bended knees of worshiping gratefulness but breathand vapor! It seems to shelter the mountain's top; the blast comes; itrolls from its sides; and the lonely hill is left to all the storm! Sostand I, my Marion, when bereft of thee. In weal or woe, thy smiles, thy warm embrace, were mine; my head reclined on that faithful breast, and still I found my home, my heaven. But now, desolate and alone, ruin is around me. Destruction waits on all who would steal one pangfrom the racked heart of William Wallace!--even pity is no more for me. Take me, then, O Power of Mercy!" cried he, stretching forth hishands, "take me to Thyself!"

At these words, a peal of thunder burst on his ear, and seemed to rollover his tent, till, passing off toward the west, it died away in longand solemn reverberation. Wallace rose from his knee, on which he hadsunk at this awful response to his Heaven-directed adjuration. "Thoucallest me, my Father!" cried he, with a holy confidence dilating hissoul. "I go from the world to Thee! I come, and before Thy altarsknow no human weakness. "

In a paroxysm of sacred enthusiasm he rushed from the tent, and, reckless whither he went, struck into the depths of Roslyn woods. Withthe steps of the wind he pierced their remotest thickets. He reachedtheir boundary--it was traversed by a rapid stream, but that did notstop his course; he sprung over it, and, ascending its moonlight bank, was startled by the sound of his name. Grimsby, attended by a youth, stood before him. The veteran expressed amazement at meeting hismaster alone at this hour, unhelmeted and unarmed, and in so dangerousa direction. "The road, " said he, "between this and Stirling is besetwith your enemies. " Instead of noticing this information, Wallaceinquired what news he brought from Huntingtower. "The worst, " said he. "By this time the royal Bruce is no more!" Wallace gaspedconvulsively, and fell against a tree. Grimsby paused. In a fewminutes the heart-struck chief was able to speak. "Listen not to mygroans for unhappy Scotland!" cried he; "show me all that is in thislast vial of wrath. "

Grimsby informed him that Bruce being so far recovered as to have lefthis sick chamber for the family apartment, while he was sitting withthe ladies, a letter was brought to Lady Helen. She opened it, read afew lines, and fell senseless into the arms of her sister. Brucesnatched the packet, but not a word did he speak till he had perused itto the end. It was from the Countess Strathearn, written in thetriumph of revenge, cruelly exulting in what she termed thedemonstration of Wallace's guilt; congratulating herself on having beenthe primary means of discovering it, and boasting that his once adoredScotland now held him in such detestation as to have doomed him to die. It was this denunciation which had struck to the soul of Helen; andwhile the anxious Lady Ruthven removed her inanimate form into anotherroom, Bruce read the barbarous triumphs of this disappointed woman. "No power on earth can save him now, " continued she; "your doting heartmust yield him, Helen, to another rest than your bridal chamber. Hisiron breast has met with others as adamantine as his own. A hypcrite!he feels not pity; he knows no beat of human sympathies; and like arock, he falls, unpitied, undeplored--undeplored by all but you, lost, self-deluded girl! My noble lord, the princely De Warenne, informs methat William Wallace would be burned as a double traitor in England, and a price is now set upon his head in Scotland! hence, there issafety for him no more. Those his base-born heart has outraged shallbe avenged; and his cries for mercy, who will answer? No voice onearth! None dare support the man whom friends and enemies abandon todestruction!"

"Yes, " cried Bruce, starting from his seat, "I will support him, thoudamned traitress! Bruce will declare himself! Bruce will throwhimself before his friend, and in his breast receive every arrow meantfor that godlike heart! Yes, " cried he, glancing on the terrifiedlooks of Isabella, who believed that his delirium was returned. "Iwould snatch him in these arms, from their murderous flames, did allthe fiends of hell guard their infernal fire!" Not a word more did heutter, but darting from the apartment, was soon seen before thebarbican-gate, armed from head to foot. Grimsby stood there, to whomhe called to bring him a horse, "for that the Light of Scotland was indanger. " Grimsby, who understood by that term, his beloved master wasin peril, instantly obeyed; and Bruce, as instantly mourning, struckhis rowels into the horse, and was out of sight ere Grimsby could reachhis stirrup to follow. 

But that faithful soldier speeded after him like the win, and came inview of Bruce just as he was leaping a chasm in the mountain path. Thehorse struck his heel against a loose stone, and it giving way, he fellheadlong into the deep ravine. At the moment of his disappearance, Grimsby rushed toward the spot, and saw the animal struggling in theagonies of death at the bottom. Bruce lay insensible, amongst somebushes which grew nearer the top. With difficulty the honestEnglishman got him dragged to the surface of the hill; and finding allattempts to recover him ineffectual, he laid him on his own beast, andso carried him slowly back to the castle. The assiduities of the sageof Ercildown restored him to life, but not to recollection. "The feverreturned on him, with a delirium, so hopeless of recovery, " continuedGrimsby, "that the Lady Helen, who again seems like an inspired angelamongst us, has sent me with this youth to implore you to come toHuntingtower, and there embattle yourself against your own and yourprince's enemies. "

"Send me, " cried Walter Hay, grasping Wallace's hand, "send me back toLady Helen, and let me tell her that our benefactor, the best guardianof our country, will not abandon us! Should you depart, Scotland'sgenius will go with you! again she must sink, again she will be inruins. De Valence will regain possession of my dear lady, and you willnot be near to save her. "

"Grimsby, Walter, my friends!" cried Wallace, in an agitated voice, "Ido not abandon Scotland; she drives me from her. Would she haveallowed me, I would have borne her in my arms until my latest gasp; butit must not be so. I resign her into the Almighty hands, to which Icommit myself; they will also preserve the Lady Helen from violence. Icannot forego my trust, for the Bruce also! If he live, he willprotect her for my sake; and should he died, Bothwell and Ruthven willcherish her for their own. "

"But you will return with us to Huntingtower, " cried Grimsby. "Disguised in these peasant's garments, which we have brought for thepurpose, you may pass through the legions of the regent with perfectsecurity. "

"Let me implore you, if not for your own sake, for ours! Pity ourdesolation, and save yourself for them who can know no safety when youare gone!"

Walter clung to his arm while uttering this supplication. Wallacelooked tenderly upon him. 

"I would save myself; and I will, please God, " said he; "but by nomeans unworthy of myself. I go, but not under any disguise. Openlyhave I defended Scotland, and openly will I pass through her lands. The chalice of Heaven consecrated me the champion of my country, and noScot dare lift a hostile hand against this anointed head. "

The soul of Wallace swelled high, but devoutly, while uttering this. 

"Whither you go, " cried Grimsby, "let me follow you, in joy or insorrow!"

"And me, too, my benefactor!" rejoined Walter, "and when you look onus, think not that Scotland is altogether ungrateful!"

"My faithful friend, " returned he, "whither I go, I must go alone. Andas a proof of your love, grant me your obedience this once. Restamongst these thickets till morning. At sunrise, repair to our camp;there you will know my destination. But till Bruce proclaims himselfat the head of the country's armies, for my sake never reveal to mortalman, that he who lies debilitated by sickness at Huntingtower, is otherthan Sir Thomas de Longueville. "

"Rest we cannot, " replied Grimsby; "but still we will obey our master. You command me to adhere to Bruce; to serve him till the hour of hisdeath! I will--but should he die, then I may seek you, and be againyour faithful servant?"

"You will find me before the cross of Christ, " returned Wallace, "withsaints my fellow-soldiers, and God my only King! Till then, Grimsby, farewell. Walter, carry my fidelity to your mistress. She will sharemy thoughts, with the Blessed Virgin of Heaven, for in all my prayersshall her name be remembered. "

Grimsby and Walter, struck by the holy solemnity of his manner, fell ontheir knees before him. Wallace raised his hands:

"Bless, O Father of Light!" cried he, "bless this unhappy land, whenWallace is no more; let his memory be lost in the virtues andprosperity of Robert Bruce!"

Grimsby sunk on the earth, and gave way to a burst of manly sorrow. Walter hid his weeping face in the folds of his master's mantle, whichhad fallen from his shoulders to the ground. Lost in grief, no thoughtseemed to exist in the young man's heart but the resolution to liveonly for his persecuted benefactor; and to express this vow with allthe energy of determined devotedness, he looked up to seek the face ofWallace--but Wallace had disappeared; and all that remained, to thebreaking hearts of his faithful servants, was the tartan plaid whichthey had clasped in their arms. 

Chapter LXXIX. 

Lumloch. 

Wallace, having turned abruptly away from his lamenting servants, struck into the deep defiles of the Pentland Hills. They pointed todifferent tracks. Aware that the determined affection of some of hisfriends might urge them to dare the perils attendant on his fellowship, he hesitated a moment which path to take. Certainly not towardHuntingtower, to bring immediate destruction on its royal inhabitant. Nor to any chieftain of the Highlands, to give rise to a spirit ofcivil warfare. Neither would he pursue the eastern track; for in thatdirection, as pointing to France, his friends would most likely seekhim. He therefore turned his steps toward the ports of Ayr. The roadwas circuitous; but it would soon enough take him from the land of hisfathers--from the country he must never see again!

As morning dispelled the shades of night, it discovered still moredreary glooms. A heavy mist hung over the hills, and rolled before himalong the valley. Still he pursued his way, although, the dayadvanced, the vapors collected into thicker blackness, and, floatingdown the heights, at last burst into a deluge of rain. All around wasdarkened by the descending water; and the accumulating floods, dashingfrom the projecting craigs above, swelled the burn in his path to aroaring river. Wallace stood in the torrent, with its wild wavesbreaking against his sides. The rain fell on his uncovered head, andthe chilling blast sighed in his streaming hair. Looking around him, he paused amidst this tumult of nature. "Must there be strife, evenamongst the elements, to show that this is no longer a land for me?Spirits of these hills, " cried he, "pour not thus your rage on abanished man! A man without a friend, without a home. " He started andsmiled at his own adjuration. "The spirits of Heaven launch not thistempest on a defenseless head; 'tis chance!--but affliction shapes allthings to its own likeness. Thou, oh, my Father! would not suffer anydemon of the air to bend thy broken reed! Therefore rain on, yetorrents; ye are welcome to William Wallace. He can well breast themountain's storm, who has stemmed the ingratitude of his country. "

Hills, rivers, and vales were measured by his solitary steps, tillentering on the heights of Clydesdale, the broad river of his nativeglen spread its endeared waters before him. Not a wave passed alongthat had not kissed the feet of some scene consecrated to his memory. Over the western hills lay the lands of his forefathers. There he hadfirst drawn his breath; there he imbibed from the lips of his reveredgrandfather, now no more, those lessons of virtue by which he hadlived, and for which he was now ready to die. Far to the leftstretched the wide domains of Lammington: there his youthful heartfirst knew the pulse of love: there all nature smiled upon him, forMarion was near, and hope hailed him, from every sunlit mountain'sbrow. Onward in the depths of the cliffs, lay Ellerslie, the home ofhis heart, where he had tasted the joys of Paradise; but all there, like that once blessed place, now lay in one wide ruin. 

"Shall I visit thee again?" said he, as he hurried along the beetlingcraigs; "Ellerslie! Ellerslie, " cried he; "'tis no hero, no triumphantwarrior, that approaches! Receive--shelter thy deserted, widowedmaster! I come, my Marion, to mourn thee in thine own domains!"

He flew forward; he ascended the cliffs; he rushed down thehazel-crowned pathway--but it was no longer smooth; thistles, andthickly-interwoven underwood, obstructed his steps. Breaking throughthem all, he turned the angle of the rock--the last screen between himand the view of his once beloved home. On this spot he used to standon moonlight evenings, watching the graceful form of his Marion, as shepassed to and fro within her chamber. His eyes now turnedinstinctively to the point, but it gazed on vacancy. His home haddisappeared: one solitary tower alone remained, standing like "ahermit, the last of his race, " to mourn over the desolation of all bywhich it had once been surrounded. Not a human being now moved on thespot which, three years before, was thronged with his grateful vassals. Not a voice was now heard, where then sounded the harp ofHalbert--where breathed the soul-entrancing song of his beloved Marion!

"Death!" cried he, striking his breast, "how many ways hast thou tobereave poor mortality! All, all gone! My Marion sleeps in Bothwell:the faithful Halbert at her feet. And my peasantry of Lanark, how manyof you have found untimely graves in the bosom of your vainly rescuedcountry!"

A few steps forward, and he stood on a mound of moldering fragments, heaped over the pavement of what had been the hall. 

"My wife's blood marks the stones beneath!" cried he. 

He flung himself on the ruins, and a groan burst from his heart. Itechoed mournfully from the opposite rock. He started and gazed around. 

"Solitude!" cried he, with a faint smile; "naught is here, but Wallaceand his sorrow. Marion! I call, and even thou dost not answer me;thou, who didst ever fly at the sound of my voice! Look on me, love!"exclaimed he, stretching his arms toward the sky; "look on me, and foronce, till ever, cheer thy lonely, heart-stricken Wallace!"

Tears choked his further utterance; and once more laying his head uponthe stones, he wept in silence, till exhausted natured found repose insleep. 

The sun was gilding the gray summits of the ruined tower under whoseshadow he lay, when Wallace slowly opened his eyes; looking around him, he smote his breast, and with a heavy groan sunk back upon the stones. In the silence which succeeded this burst of memory, he thought heheard a rustling near him, and a half-suppressed sigh. He listenedbreathless. The sigh was repeated. He gently raised himself on hishand, and with an expectation he dared hardly whisper to himself, turned toward the spot whence the sound proceeded. The branches of arose-tree that had been planted by his Marion, shook and scattered theleaves of its ungathered flowers upon the brambles which grew beneath. Wallace rose in agitation. The skirts of a human figure appeared, retreating behind the ruins. He advanced toward it, and beheld EdwinRuthven. The moment their eyes met, Edwin precipitated himself at hisfeet, and clinging to him, exclaimed:

"Pardon me this pursuit! But we meet to part no more. "

Wallace raised him, and strained him to his breast in silence. Edwin, in hardly articulate accents, continued:

"Some kind power checked your hand when writing to your Edwin. Youcould not command him not to follow you! you left the letterunfinished, and thus I come to bless you for not condemning me to dieof a broken heart!"

"I did not write farewell to thee, " cried Wallace, looking mournfullyon him, "but I meant it, for I must part from all I love in Scotland. It is my doom. The country needs me not, and I have need of Heaven. Igo into its outcourts at Chartres. Follow me there, dear boy, whenthou hast accomplished thy noble career on earth, and then our grayhairs shall mingle together over the altar of the God of Peace; but nowreceive the farewell of thy friend. Return to Bruce, and be to him thedearest representative of William Wallace. "

"Never!" cried Edwin; "thou alone art my prince, my friend, my brother, my all in this world! My parents, dear as they are, would have buriedmy youth in a cloister, but your name called me to honor, and to you, in life or in death, I dedicate my being. "

"Then, " returned Wallace, "that honor summons you to the side of thedying Bruce. He is now in the midst of his foes. "

"And where art thou?" interrupted Edwin; "who drove thee hence butenemies? who line these roads, but wretches sent to betray theirbenefactor? No, my friend, thy fate shall be my fate--thy woe my woe!We live, or we die together: the field, the cloister, or the tomb--allshall be welcomed by Edwin Ruthven, if they separate him not fromthee!" Seeing that Wallace was going to speak, and fearful that it wasto repeat his commands to be left alone, he suddenly exclaimed withvehemence: "Father of men and angels! grant me thy favor only as I amtrue to the vow I have sworn, never more to leave the side of SirWilliam Wallace!"

To urge the dangers in which such a resolution would expose this toofaithful friend, Wallace knew would be in vain: he read an invincibledetermination in the eye and gesture of Edwin; and, therefore, yieldingto the demands of friendship, he threw himself upon his neck. 

"For thy sake, Edwin, I will endure yet awhile mankind at large! Thybloom of honor shall not be cropped by my hand. We will go together toFrance; and while I seek a probationary quiet in some of its remotecities, thou mayest bear the standard of Scotland, in the land of ourally, against the proud enemies of Bruce. "

"Make of me what you will, " returned Edwin, "only do not divide me fromyourself!"

Wallace explained to his friend his design of crossing the hills toAyrshire, in some port of which he did not doubt finding some vesselbound for France. Edwin overturned this plan by telling him that inthe moment the abthanes repledged their secret faith to England, theysent orders into Ayrshire to watch the movements of Wallace'srelations, and to prevent their either hearing of or marching to theassistance of their wronged kinsman. And besides this, no sooner wasit discovered by the insurgent lords at Roslyn that he had disappearedfrom the camp, than, supposing he meant to appeal to Philip, theydispatched expresses all along the western and eastern coasts, from theFriths of Forth and Clyde to those of Solway and Berwick-upon-Tweed, tointercept him. On hearing this, and that all avenues from the southernparts of his country were closed upon him, Wallace determined to trythe north. Some bay in the Western Highlands might open its yet notungrateful arms to set its benefactor free! "If not by a ship, "continued Edwin, "a fisher's boat will launch us from a country nolonger worthy of you!"

Their course was then taken along the Cartlane Craigs, at a distancefrom villages and mountain cots, which, leaning from their verdantheights, seemed to invite the traveler to refreshment and repose. Though the sword of Wallace had won them this quiet, though his wisdom, like the hand of Creation, had spread the lately barren hills withbeauteous harvest, yet had an ear of corn been asked in his name, itwould have been denied. A price was set upon his head, and the livesof all who should succor him would be forfeited! He who had givenbread and homes to thousands was left to perish--had no where toshelter his head. Edwin looked anxiously on him as at times they spedsilently along: "Ah!" thought he, "this heroic endurance of evil is thetrue cross of our celestial Captain! Let who will carry his insigniato the Holy Land, here is the man who bears the real substance, thatwalks undismayed in the path of his sacrificed Lord!"

The black plumage of a common Highland bonnet, which Edwin hadpurchased at one of the cottages to which he had gone alone to buy afew oaten cakes, hung over the face of his friend. That face no longerblazed with the fire of generous valor--it was pale and sad; butwhenever he turned his eyes on Edwin, the shades which seemed toenvelop it disappeared, a bright smile spoke the peaceful consciousnesswithin, a look of grateful affection expressed his comfort at havingfound, in defiance of every danger, he was not yet wholly forsaken. Edwin's youthful, happy spirit rejoiced in every glad beam which shoneon the face of him he loved. It awoke felicity in his breast. To beoccasionally near Wallace to share his confidence with others, hadalways filled him with joy, but now to be the only one on whom hisnoble heart leaned for consolation, was bliss unutterable. He trod onair, and even chid his beating heart for a delight which seemed toexult when his friend suffered: "But not so, " ejaculated heinternally; "to be with thee is the delight! In life or in death thypresence is the sunshine of my soul!"

When they arrived within sight of the high towers of Bothwell Castle, Wallace stopped. "We must not go thither, " said Edwin, replying to thesentiment which spoke from the eyes of his friend; "the servants of mycousin Andrew may not be as faithful as their lord!"

"I will not try them, " returned Wallace, with a resigned smile; "mypresence in Bothwell Chapel shall not pluck danger on the head of mydauntless Murray. She wakes in heaven for me whose body sleeps there;and knowing where to find the jewel, my friend, shall I linger over thevacated casket?"

While he yet spoke, a chieftain on horseback suddenly emerged from thetrees which led to the castle, and drew to their side. Edwin waswrapped in his plaid, and, cautiously concealing his face that nochance of his recognition might betray his companion, he walked brisklyon, without once looking at the stranger. But Wallace, being withoutany shade over the noble contour of a form which for majesty and gracewas unequaled in Scotland, could not be mistaken. He, too, movedswiftly forward. The horseman spurred after him. Perceiving himselfpursued, and therefore known, and aware that he must be overtaken, hesuddenly stopped. Edwin drew his sword, and would have given it intothe hand of his friend; but Wallace, putting it back, rapidly answered:"Leave my defense to this unweaponed arm. I would not use steelagainst my countrymen, but none shall take me while I have a sinew toresist. "

The chieftain now checked his horse in front of Wallace, andrespectfully raising his visor, discovered Sir John Monteith. At sightof him Edwin dropped the point of his yet unlifted sword; and Wallace, stepping back, "Monteith, " said he, "I am sorry for this rencounter. If you would be safe from the destiny which pursues me, you must retireimmediately, and forget that we have met. "

"Never, " cried Monteith; "I know the ingratitude of an envious countrydrives the bravest of her champions from our borders, but I also knowwhat belongs to myself! To serve you at all hazards! And by conjuringyou to become my guest, in my castle on the Frith of Clyde, I woulddemonstrate my grateful sense of the dangers you once incurred for me, and I therefore thank fortune for this rencounter. "

In vain Wallace expressed his determination not to bring peril on anyof his countrymen, by sojourning under any roof till he were far awayfrom Scotland. In vain he urged to Monteith the outlawry which wouldawait him should the infuriated abthanes discover that he had givenshelter to the man whom they had chosen to suppose a traitor, anddenounce as one. Monteith, after equally unsuccessful persuasion onhis side, at last said, that he knew a vessel was lying at Newark, nearhis castle, in which Wallace might immediately embark: and he imploredhim, by past friendship, to allow him to be his guide to its anchorage. To enforce this supplication, he threw himself off his horse, and, with protestations of a fidelity that trampled on all comfort he shouldever know in his now degraded country. "Once I saw Scotland's steadychampion, the brave Douglas, rifled from her shores! Do not then doomme to a second grief, bitterer than the first; do not you yourselfdrive me from the side of her last hero! Ah! let me behold you, companion of my school-days, friend, leader, benefactor! till the seawrests you forever from my eyes!" Exhausted and affected, Wallace gavehis hand to Monteith; the tear of gratitude stood in his eye. Helooked affectionately from Monteith to Edwin, from Edwin to Monteith:"Wallace shall yet live in the memory of the trusty of this land! you, my friend, prove it. I go richly forth, for the hearts of good men aremy companions. "

As they journeyed along the devious windings of the Clyde, and saw at adistance the aspiring turrets of Rutherglen, Edwin pointed to them, andsaid, "From that church a few months ago did you dictate a conqueror'sterms to England. "

"And now that very England makes me a fugitive, " returned Wallace. 

"Oh! not England!" interrupted Edwin; "you bow not to her. It isblind, mad Scotland, who thus thrusts her benefactor from her. "

"Ah! then, my Edwin, " rejoined he, "read in me this history ofthousands. So various is the fate of a people's idol; today he isworshiped as a god, to-morrow cast into the fire!"

Monteith turned pale at this conversation; and quickening his steps, hurried in silence past the opening of the valley which presented theview of Rutherglen. 

Night overtook the travelers near the little village of Lumloch, abouttwo hours' journey from Glasgow. Here a storm coming on, Monteithadvised his friends to take shelter and rest. "As you object toimplicate others, " said he, "you may sleep secure in an old barn whichat present has no ostensible owner. I remarked it while passing thisway from Newark. But I rather wish you would forget this too charyregard for others, and lodge with me in the neighboring cottage. "

Wallace was insensible to the pelting of the elements; his unsubduedspirit wanted rest for neither mind nor body; but the broken voice andlingering step of the young Edwin, who had severely sprained his footin the dark, penetrated his heart; and notwithstanding that theresolute boy, suddenly rallying himself, declared that he was neitherweary nor in pain, Wallace seeing he was both, yielded a sad consent tobe conducted from the storm. "But not, " said he, "to the house. Wewill go into the barn, and there, on the dry earth, my Edwin, we maygratefully repose. "

Monteith did not oppose him further, and pushing open the door, Wallaceand Edwin entered. Their conductor soon after followed with a lightfrom the cottage; and pulling down some heaped straw, strewed it on theground for a bed. "Here I shall sleep like a prince!" cried Edwin, throwing himself along the scattered truss. 

"But not, " returned Monteith, "till I have disengaged you from your wetgarments, and preserved your arms and brigandine from the rust of thisnight. "

Edwin, sunk in weariness, said little in opposition; and havingsuffered Monteith to take away his sword and to unbrace his platedvest, dropped at once on the straw in a profound sleep. 

Wallace, that he might not disturb him by debate, yielded to therequest of Monteith; and having resigned his armor also, waved him agood-night. Monteith nodded the same, and closed the door upon hisvictims. 

Well known to the generals of King Edward as one who estimated hishonor as a mere counter of traffic, Sir John Monteith was considered bythem all as a hireling fit for any purpose. Though De Warenne had beenpersuaded to use unworthy means to intimidate his great opponent, hewould have shrunk from being a coadjutor of treachery. His removalfrom the lord-wardenship of Scotland, in consequence of the wounds hehad received at Dalkeith, opened a path to the elevation of Aymer deValence. And when he was named viceroy in the stead of De Warenne, hetold Edward that if he would authorize him to offer an earldom, withadequate estates, to Sir John Monteith, the old friend of Wallace, hewas sure so rapacious a chieftain would traverse sea and land to putthat formidable Scot in the hands of England. To incline Edward to theproffer of so large a bribe, De Valence instanced Monteith's havingvolunteered, while he commanded with Sir Eustace Maxwell on theborders, to betray the forces under him to the English general. Thetreachery was accepted; and for its execution he received a casket ofuncounted gold. Some other proofs of his devotion to England werementioned by De Valence. 

"You mean his devotion to money, " replied the king, "and if that willmake him ours at this crisis, give him overflowing coffers, but noearldom! Though I must have the head of Wallace, I would not have oneof my peers show a title written in his blood. Ill deeds mustsometimes be done; but we do not emblazon their perpetrators!"

De Valence having received his credentials, sent Haliburton (a Scottishprisoner, who bought his liberty too dear by such an embassage) toimpart to Sir John Monteith the King of England's approval. Monteithwas then castellan of Newark, where he had immured himself for manymonths, under a pretense of the reopening of old wounds; but the factwas his treasons were connected with so many accomplices that he fearedsome disgraceful disclosure, and therefore kept out of the way ofexciting public attention. Avarice was his master passion; and thesudden idea that there might be treasure in the iron box, which, unwitting of such a thought at the time, he had consigned to Wallace, first bound him a sordid slave. His murmurs for having allowed the boxto leave his possession, gave the alarm which caused the disasters atEllerslie, and his own immediate arrest. He was then sent a prisonerto Cressingham at Stirling; but in his way thither he made his escape, though only to fall into the hands of Soulis. That inhuman chiefthreatened to return him to his dungeons; and to avoid such amisfortune, Monteith engaged in the conspiracy to bring Lady Helen fromthe priory to the arms of this monster. On her escape, Soulis wouldhave wreaked his vengeance on his vile emissary; but Monteith, aware ofhis design, fled, and fled even into the danger he would have avoided. He fell in with a party of roaming Southrons, who conveyed him to Ayr. Once having immolated his honor, he kept no terms with conscience. Arnulf soon understood what manner of man was in his custody; and bysharing with him the pleasures of his table, soon drew from him everyinformation respecting the strength and resources of his country. Hisafter history was a series of secret treacheries to Scotland; and inreturn for them, an accumulation of wealth from England, thecomtemplation of which seemed to be his sole enjoyment. 

This new offer from De Valence was therefore greedily embraced. Hehappened to be at Rutherglen when Haliburton brought the proposal; andin the cloisters of its church** was its fell agreement signed. Hetransmitted an oath to De Valence that he would die or win his hire. And immediately dispatching spies to the camp at Roslyn, as soon as hewas informed of Wallace's disappearance, he judged, from the knowledgeof that chief's retentive affections, that whithersoever he intendedfinally to go, he would first visit Ellerslie, and the tomb of hiswife. According to this opinion, he planted his emissaries infavorable situations on the road, and then proceeded himself tointercept his victim at the most probable places. 

Not finding him at Bothwell, he was issuing forth to take the way toEllerslie, when the object of his search presented himself at theopening of the wood. The evil plan too well succeeded. 

Triumphant in his deceit, this master of hypocrisy left the barn, inwhich he had seen Wallace and his young friend lie down on that groundfrom which he had determined they should never more rise. Aware thatthe unconquerable soul of Wallace would never allow himself to be takenalive, he had stipulated with De Valence that the delivery of his headshould entitle him to a full reward. From Rutherglen to Lumloch noplace had presented itself in which he thought he could so judiciouslyplant an ambuscade to surprise the unsuspecting Wallace. And in thisvillage he had stationed so large a force of ruthless savages (broughtfor the occasion by Haliburton from the Irish island of Rathlin), thattheir employer had hardly a doubt of this night being the last of histoo-trusting friend's existence. These Rathliners neither knew ofWallace nor his exploits; but the lower order of Scots, however theymight fear to succor his distress, loved his person, and felt so boundto him by his actions, that Monteith durst not apply to any one of themto second his villainy. 

**The events of Wallace having dictated terms of peace with England, and Monteith pledging himself to that country's emissary to betrayWallace, having taken place in this church, are traditionary facts. 

The hour of midnight passed, and yet he could not summon courage tolead his men to their nefarious attack. Twice they urged him, beforehe arose from his affected sleep--for sleep he could not; guilt had"murdered sleep!" and he lay awake, restless, and longing for the dawn;and yet, ere that dawn, the deed must be accomplished! A cock crewfrom the neighboring farm. 

"That is the sign of morning, and we have yet done nothing, " exclaimeda surly ruffian, who leaned on his battle-ax in an ssopposite corner ofthe apartment. 

"No, it is the signal of our enemy's captivity!" cried Monteith. "Follow me, but gently. If ye speak a word or a single target rattle, before ye all fall upon him, we are lost. It is a being ofsupernatural might, not a mere man, whom ye go to encounter. He thatfirst disables him shall have a double reward. "

"Depend upon us, " returned the sturdiest ruffian; and stealingcautiously out of the cottage, the party advanced with noiseless stepstoward the barn. Monteith paused at the door, making a sign to his mento halt while he listened. He put his ear to a crevice--not a murmurwas within. He gently raised the latch, and setting the door wideopen, with his finger on his lip, beckoned his followers. Withoutventuring to draw a breath, they approached the threshold. Themeridian moon shone full into the hovel, and shed a broad light upontheir victims. The innocent face of Edwin rested on the bosom of hisfriend, and the arm of Wallace lay on the spread straw with which hehad covered the tender body of his companion. So fair a picture ofmortal friendship was never before beheld. But the hearts were blindwhich looked on it, and Monteith gave the signal. He retreated out ofthe door, while his men threw themselves forward to bind Wallace wherehe lay; but the first man, in his eagerness, striking his head againsta joist in the roof, uttered a fierce oath. The noise roused Wallace, whose wakeful senses had rather slumbered than slept, and opening hiseyes, he he sprung on his feet. 

A moment told him enemies were around. Seeing him rise, they rushed onhim with imprecations. His eyes blazed like two terrible meteors; and, with a sudden motion of his arm, he seemed to hold the men at adistance, while his god-like figure stood, a tower in collected might. Awe-struck, they paused, but it was only for an instant. The sight ofEdwin, now starting from his sleep, his aghast countenance, while hefelt for his weapons, his cry when he recollected they were gone, inspired the assassins with fresh courage. Battle-axes, swords, andrattling chains, now flashed before the eyes of Wallace. The pointedsteel in many places entered his body, while with part of a brokenbench, which chanced to lie near him, he defended himself and Edwinfrom this merciless host. Edwin, seeing naught but the death of hisfriend before his sight, regardless of himself, made a spring from hisside, and snatched a dagger from the belt of one of the murderers. Theruffian instantly caught the intrepid boy by the throat, and in thathorrible clutch would certainly have deprived him of life had not thelion grasp of Wallace seized the man in his arms, and with a pressurethat made his mouth and nostrils burst with blood, compelled him toforego his hold. Edwin released, Wallace dropped his assailant, who, staggering a few paces, fell senseless to the ground, and instantlyexpired. 

The conflict now became doubly desperate-Edwin's dagger twice defendedthe breast of his friend. Two of his assassins he stabbed to the heart. 

"Murder that urchin!" cried Monteith, who, seeing from without thecarnage of his men, feared that Wallace might yet make his escape. 

"Hah!" cried Wallace, at the sound of Monteith's voice giving such anorder--"then we are betrayed--but not by Heaven! Strike, one of you, that angel youth, " cried he, "and you will incur damnation!"

He spoke to the winds. They poured toward Edwin; Wallace, with agiant's strength, dispersed them as they advanced; the beam of woodfell on the heads, the breasts of his assailants. Himself bleeding atevery pore, he felt not a smart while yet he defended Edwin. But ashout was heard from the door, a faint cry was heard at his side. Helooked around. Edwin lay extended on the ground, with an arrowquivering in his breast, his closing eyes still looking upward to hisfriend. The beam fell from the hands of Wallace. He threw himself onhis knees beside him. The dying boy pressed his hand to his heart, anddropped his head upon his bosom--Wallace moved not, spoke not. Hishand was bathed in the blood of his friend, but not a pulse beatbeneath it; no breath warmed the paralyzed chill of his face as it hungover the motionless lips of Edwin. 

The men were more terrified at this unresisting stillness than at theinvincible prowess of his arm, and stood gazing on him in mute wonder. But Monteith, in whom the fell appetite of avarice had destroyed everyperception of humanity, sent in other ruffians with new orders to bindWallace. They approached him with terror; two of the strongeststealing behind him, and taking advantage of his face being bent uponthat of his murdered Edwin, each in the same moment seized his hands. As they griped them fast, the others advanced eagerly to fasten thebands, he looked calmly up, but it was a dreadful calm; it spoke ofdespair, of the full completion of all woe. "Bring chains, " cried oneof the men, "he will burst these thongs. "

"You may bind me with a hair, " said he; "I contend no more. " The bondswere fastened on his wrists; and then, turning toward the lifeless bodyof Edwin, he raised it gently in his arms. The rosy red of youth yettinged his cold cheek; his parted lips still beamed with the same--butthe breath that had so sweetly informed them, was flown. "Oh! my bestbrother that ever I had" cried Wallace in a sudden transport, andkissing his pale forehead; "my sincerest friend in my greatest need!In thee was truth, manhood, and nobleness; in thee was all man'sfidelity with woman's tenderness. My friend, my brother, oh! would toGod I had died for thee!"

Chapter LXXX. 

Huntingtower. 

Lord Ruthven was yet musing, in fearful anxiety, on Wallace's solemnadieu, and the confirmation which the recitals of Grimsby and Hay hadbrought of his determined exile, when he was struck with a newconsternation by the flight of his son. A billet, which Edwin had leftwith Scrymgeour, who guessed not its contents, told his father that hewas gone to seek their friend, and to unite himself forever to hisfortunes. 

Bothwell not less eager to preserve Wallace to the world, with anintent to persuade him to at least abandon his monastic project, setoff direct for France, hoping to arrive before his friend, and engagethe French monarch to assist in preventing so grievous a sacrifice. Ruthven, meanwhile, fearful that the unarmed Wallace and theself-regardless Edwin might fall into the hands of the venal wretchesnow widely dispersed to seize the chief and his adherents, sent out theveterans, in divers disguises, to pursue the roads it was probable hemight take, and finding him, guard him safely to the coast. TillRuthven should receive accounts of their success, he forbore to forwardthe letter which Wallace had left for Bruce, or to increase thesolicitude of the already anxious inhabitants of Huntingtower with anyintimation of what had happened. But on the fourth day, Scrymgeour andhis party returned with the horrible narrative of Lumloch. 

receive accounts of their success, he forbore to forward the letterwhich Wallace had left for Bruce, or to increase the solicitude of thealready anxious inhabitants of Huntingtower with any intimation of whathad happened. But on the fourth day, Scrymgeour and his party returnedwith the horrible narrative of Lumloch. 

After the murder of his youthful friend, Wallace had been loaded withirons, and conveyed, so unresistingly that he seemed in a stupor, onboard a vessel, to be carried without loss of time to the Tower ofLondon. Sir John Monteith, though he never ventured into his sight, attended as the accuser, who, to put a visor on cruelty, was to swearaway his victim's life. The horror and grief of Ruthven at thesetidings were unutterable; and Scrymgeour, to turn the tide of thebereaved father's thoughts to the inspiring recollection of the earlyglory of his son, proceeded to narrate, that he found the beauteousremains in the hovel, but bedecked with flowers by the village girls. They were weeping over it, and lamenting the pitiless heart which couldslay such youth and loveliness. To bury him in so obscure a spot, Scrymgeour would not allow, and he had sent Stephen Ireland with thesacred corpse to Dumbarton, with orders to see him entombed in thechapel of that fortress. 

"It is done, " continued the worthy knight, "and those towers he sobravely scaled with stand forever the monument of Edwin Ruthven. "

"Scrymgeour, " said the stricken father, "the shafts fall thick upon us, but we must fulfill our duty. "

Cautious of inflicting too heavy a blow on the fortitude of his wifeand of Helen, he commanded Grimsby and Hay to withhold from everybodyat Huntingtower the tidings of its young lord's fate; but he believedit his duty not to delay the letter of Wallace to Bruce, and thedreadful information to him of Monteith's treachery. Ruthven ended hisshort epistle to his wife by saying he should soon follow hismessenger; but that at present he could not bring himself to entirelyabandon the Lowlands to even a temporary empire of the seditious chiefs. 

Ruthven ended his short epistle to his wife by saying he should soonfollow his messenger; but that at present he could not bring himself toentirely abandon the Lowlands to even a temporary empire of theseditious chiefs. 

On Grimsby's arrival at Huntingtower he was conducted immediately toBruce. Some cheering symptoms having appeared that morning, he hadjust exchanged his bed for a couch when Grimsby entered the room. Thecountenance of the honest Southron was the harbinger of his news. LadyHelen started from her seat, and Bruce, stretching out his arms, eagerly caught the packets the soldier presented. Isabella inquired ifall were well with Sir William Wallace; but ere he could make ananswer, Lady Ruthven ran breathless into the room, holding out the openletter brought by Hay to her. Bruce had just read the first line ofhis, which announced the captivity of Wallace; and, with a groan thatpierced through the souls of every one present, he made an attempt tospring from the couch; but in the act he reeled, and fell back in afearful but mute mental agony. The apprehensive heart of Helen guessedsome direful explanation; she looked with speechless inquiry upon heraunt and Grimsby. Isabella and Ercildown hastened to Bruce; and LadyRuthven being too much appalled in her own feelings to think for amoment on the aghast Helen, hurriedly read to her from Lord Ruthven'sletter the brief but decisive account of Wallace's dangeroussituation--his seizure and conveyance to the Tower of England. Helenlistened without a word; her heart seemed locked within her; her brainwas on fire; and gazing fixedly on the floor while she listened, allelse that was transacted around her passed unnoticed. 

The pangs of a convulsion fit did not long shackle the determinedBruce. The energy of his spirit struggling to gain the side of Wallacein this his extreme need (for he well knew Edward's implacable soul), roused him from his worse than swoon. With his extended arms dashingaway the restoratives with which both Isabella and Ercildown hung overhim, he would have leaped on the floor had not the latter held him down. 

"Withhold me not!" cried he; "this is not the time for sickness andindulgence. My friend is in the fangs of the tyrant, and shall I liehere? No, not for all the empires in the globe will I be detainedanother hour. "

Isabella, affrighted at the furies which raged in his eyes, but yetmore terrified at the perils attendant on his desperate resolution, threw herself at his feet, and implored him to stay for her sake. 

"No, " cried Bruce, "not for thy life, Isabella, which is dearer to methan my own! not to save this ungrateful country from the doom itmerits would I linger one moment from the side of him who has fought, bled, and suffered for me and mine, who is now treated with ignominy, and sentenced to die, for my delinquency! Had I consented to proclaimmyself on my landing, secure with Bruce the king envy would have fearedto strike; but I must first win a fame like his! And while I lay here, they tore him from the vain and impotent Bruce! But, Almighty pardonerof my sins!" cried he, with vehemence, "grant me strength to wrest himfrom their grip, and I will go barefoot to Palestine, to utter all mygratitude!"

Isabella sunk weeping into the arms of her aunt. And the venerableErcildown, wishing to curb an impetuosity which could only involve itsgenerous agent in a ruin deeper than that it sought to revenge, withmore zeal than judgment, urged to the prince the danger into which suchboundless resentment would precipitate his own person. At thisintimation the impassioned Bruce, stung to the soul that such anargument could be expected to have weight with him, solemnly bent hisknees, and clasping his sword, vowed before Heaven "either to releaseWallace or--" to share his fate! he would have added; but Isabella, watchful of his words, suddenly interrupted him, by throwing herselfwildly on his neck, and exclaiming:

"Oh, say not so! Rather swear to pluck the tyrant from his throne;that the scepter of my Bruce may bless England, as it will yet do thisunhappy land!"

"She says right!" ejaculated Ercildown, in a prophetic transport; "andthe scepter of Bruce, in the hands of his offspring, shall bless theunited countries to the latest generations! The walls of separationshall then be thrown down, and England and Scotland be one people. "

Bruce looked steadfastly on the sage: "Then if thy voice utter holyverity, it will not again deny my call to wield the power that Heavenbestows! I follow my fate! To-morrow's dawn sees me in the path tosnatch my best treasure, my counselor, my guide, from the judgment ofhis enemies--or woe to England, woe to all Scotland born who havebreathed one hostile word against his sacred life! Helen dost thouhear me?" cried he: "Wilt thou not assist me to persuade thy too timidsister that her Bruce's honor, his happiness, lives in the preservationof his friend? Speak to her, counsel her, sweet Helen, and, and, please the Almighty arm of Heaven, I will reward thy tenderness withthe return of Wallace!"

Helen gazed intently on him while he spoke. She smiled when he ended, but she did not answer, and there was a wild vacancy in the smile thatseemed to say she knew not what had been spoken, and that her thoughtswere far away. Without further regarding him or any present, she aroseand left the room. At this moment of fearful abstraction, her wholesoul was bent with an intensity that touched on madness, on theexecution of a project which had rushed into her mind in the moment sheheard of Wallace's deathful captivity and destination. 

Helen gazed intently on him while he spoke. She smiled when he ended, but she did not answer, and there was a wild vacancy in the smile thatseemed to say she knew not what had been spoken, and that her thoughtswere far away. Without further regarding him or any present, she aroseand left the room. At this moment of fearful abstraction, her wholesoul was bent with an intensity that touched on madness, on theexecution of a project which had rushed into her mind in the moment sheheard of Wallace's deathful captivity and destination. 

The approach of night favored her design. Hurrying to her chamber, shedismissed her maids with the prompt excuse that she was ill, anddesired not to be disturbed until morning, then bolting the door, shequickly habited herself as the dear memorial of her happy days inFrance, and dropping from her window into the pleasance beneath, ranswiftly through its woody precincts toward Dundee. 

Before she arrived at the suburbs of Ferth, her tender feet became soblistered, she found the necessity of stopping at the first cottage. But her perturbed spirits rendered it impossible for her to take rest, and she answered the hospitable offer of its humble owner, with arequest that he would go into the town and immediately purchase ahorse, to carry her that night to Dundee. She put her purse into theman's hand, who without further discussion obeyed. When the animal wasbrought and the honest Scot returned her the purse with its remainingcontents, she divided them with him, and turning from his thanks, mounted the horse, and rode away. 

About an hour before dawn, she arrived within view of the ships lyingin the harbor at Dundee. At this sight she threw herself off thepanting animal, and leaving it to rest and liberty, hastened to thebeach. A gentle breeze blew freshly from the northwest, and severalvessels were heaving their anchors to get under weigh. 

"Are any, " demanded she, "bound for the Tower of London?"

"None, " were the replies. Despair was now in her heart and gesture. But suddenly recollecting that in dressing herself for flight she hadnot taken off the jewels she usually wore, she exclaimed with renovatedhope, "Will not gold tempt some one to carry me thither?" A roughNorwegian sailor jumped from the side of the nearest vessel, andreadily answered in the affirmative. "My life, " rejoined she, "or anecklace of pearls shall be yours, in the moment you land me at theTower of London. " The man seeing the youth and agitation of theseeming boy, doubted his power to perform so magnificent a promise, andwas half inclined to retract his assent; but Helen pointing to a jewelon her finger as a proof that she did not speak of things beyond herread, he no longer hesitated; and pledging his word that wind and tidein his favor, he would land her at the Tower Stairs, she, as if allhappiness must meet her at that point, sprung into his vessel. Thesails were unfurled, the voices of the men chanted forth their cheeringresponses on clearing the harbor, and Helen throwing herself along thefloor of her little cabin, in that prostration of body and soul, silently breathed her thanks to God for being indeed launched on theocean, whose waves she trusted would soon convey her to Wallace; tosooth, to serve--to die, or to compass the release of him who hadsacrificed more than his life for her father's preservation--for himwho had saved herself from worse than death. 

Chapter LXXXI. 

The Thames. 

On the evening of the fourteenth day from the one in which Helen hadembarked, the little ship of Dundee entered on the bright bosom of theNore. While she sat on the deck watching the progress of the vesselwith an eager spirit, which would gladly have taken wings to have flownto the object of her voyage, she first saw the majestic waters of theThames. But it was a tyrannous flood to her, and she marked not thediverging shores crowned with palaces; her eyes looked over everystately dome to seek the black summits of the Tower. At a certainpoint the captain of the vessel spoke through his trumpet to summon apilot from the land. In a few minutes he was obeyed. The Englishmantook the helm. Helen was reclined on a coil of ropes near him. Heentered into conversation with the Norwegian, and she listened inspeechless attention to a recital which bound up her every sense inthat hearing. The captain had made some unprincipled jest on thepresent troubles of Scotland, now his adopted country from hiscommercial interests, and he added with a laugh, "that he though anyruler the right one who gave him a free course in traffic. " In answerto this remark, and with an observation not very flattering to theNorwegian's estimation of right and wrong, the Englishman mentioned thecapture of the once renowned champion of Scotland. Even the enemy whorecounted the particulars, showed a truth in the recital which shamedthe man who had benefited by the patriotism he affected to despise, andfor which Sir William Wallace was now likely to shed his blood. 

"I was present, " continued the pilot, "when the brave Scot was put onthe raft, which carried him through the Traitor's Gate into the Tower. His hands and feet were bound with iron; but his head, owing tofaintness from the wounds he had received at Lumloch, was so bent downon his breast as he reclined on the float, that I could not then seehis face. There was a great pause, for none of us, when he did appearin sight, could shout over the downfall of so merciful a conqueror. Many were spectators of this scene whose lives he had spared on thefields of Scotland; and my brother was amongst them. However, that Imight have a distinct view of the man who has so long held our warlikemonarch in dread, I went to Westminster Hall on the day appointed forhis trial. The great judges of the land, and almost all the lordsbesides were there, and a very grand spectacle they made. But when thehall-door was opened, and the dauntless prisoner appeared, then it wasthat I saw true majesty. King Edward on his throne never looked withsuch a royal air. His very chains seemed given to be graced by him ashe moved through the parting crowd with the step of one who had beenused to have all his accusers at his feet. Though pale with loss ofblood, and his countenance bore traces of the suffering occasioned bythe state of his yet unhealed wounds, his head was now erect, and helooked with undisturbed dignity on all around. The Earl of Gloucester, whose life and liberty he had granted at Berwick, sat on the right ofthe lord chancellor. Bishop Beck, the Lords de Valence and Soulis, with one Monteith (who it seems was the man that betrayed him into ourhands), charged him with high treason against the life of King Edwardand the peace of his majesty's realms of England and Scotland. Grievous were the accusations brought against him, and bitter therevilings with which he was denounced as a traitor too mischievous todeserve any show of mercy. The Earl of Gloucester at last roseindignantly, and in energetic and respectful terms, called on SirWilliam Wallace, by the reverence in which he held the tribunal offuture ages, to answer for himself!

"'On this adjuration, brave earl!' replied he, 'I will speak!' O! menof Scotland, what a voice was that! In it was all honesty andnobleness! and a murmur arose from some who feared its power, whichGloucester was obliged to check by exclaiming aloud with a stern voice;'Silence, while Sir William Wallace answers. He who disobeys, sergeant-at-arms, take into custody!' A pause succeeded, and thechieftain, with god-like majesty of truth, denied the possibility ofbeing a traitor where he never had owed allegiance. But with amatchless fearlessness, he avowed the facts alleged against him, whichtold the havoc he had made of the English on the Scottish plains, andthe devastations he had afterward wrought in the lands of England. 'Itwas a son, ' cried he, 'defending the orphans of his father from thesteel and rapine of a treacherous friend! It was the sword ofrestitution gathering on that false friend's fields the harvests he hadravaged from theirs!' He spoke more and nobly--too nobly for them whoheard him. They rose to a man to silence what they could not confute;and the sentence of death was pronounced on him--the cruel death of atraitor! The Earl of Gloucester turned pale on his seat, but thecountenance of Wallace was unmoved. As he was led forth, I followed, and of Wallace was unmoved. As he was led forth, I followed, and sawthe young Le de Spencer, with several other reprobate gallants of ourcourt, ready to receive him. With shameful mockery they flew laurelson his head, and with torrents of derision, told him, it was meet theyshould so salute the champion of Scotland! Wallace glanced on them alook which spoke pity rather than contempt, and, with a serenecountenance, he followed the warden toward the Tower. The hirelings ofhis accusers loaded him with invectives as he passed along; but thepopulace who beheld his noble mien, with those individuals who hadheard of--while many had felt--his generous virtues, deplored and wepthis sentence. To-morrow at sunrise he dies. "

Helen's face being overshadowed by the low brim of her hat, the agonyof her mind could not have been read in her countenance had the goodSouthron been sufficiently uninterested in his story to regard thesympathy of others; but as soon as he had uttered the last dreadfulwords, "To-morrow at sunrise he dies!" she started from her seat; herhorror-struck senses apprehended nothing further, and turning to theNorwegian, "Captain, " cried she, "I must reach the Tower this night!"

"Impossible!" was the reply: "the tide will not take us up tillto-morrow at noon. "

"Then the waves shall!" cried she, and frantically rushing toward theship's side, she would have thrown herself into the water, had not thepilot caught her arm. 

"Boy!" said he, "are you mad? your action, your looks--"

"No, " interrupted she, wringing her hands; "but in the Tower I must bethis night, or-- Oh! God of mercy, end my misery!"

The unutterable anguish of her voice, countenance, and gesture exciteda suspicion in the Englishman, that this youth was connected with theScottish chief; and not choosing to hint his surmise to the unfeelingNorwegian, in a different tone he exhorted Helen to composure, andoffered her his own boat, which was then towed at the side of thevessel, to take her to the Tower. Helen grasped the pilot's roughhand, and in a paroxysm of gratitude pressed it to her lips; thenforgetful of her engagements with the insensible man who stood unmovedby his side, sprung into the boat. The Norwegian followed her, and ina threatening tone demanded his hire. She now recollected it, andputting her hand into her vest, gave him the string of pearls which hadbeen her necklace. He was satisfied, and the boat pushed off. 

The cross, the cherished memorial of her hallowed meeting with Wallacein the chapel of Snawdoun, and which always hung suspended on herbosom, was now in her hand and pressed close to her heart. The rowersplied their oars, and her eyes, with a gaze as if they would pierce thehorizon, looked intently onward, while the men labored through thetide. Even to see the walls which contained Wallace, seemed to promiseher a degree of comfort she dared hardly hope herself to enjoy. Atlast the awful battlements of England's state prison rose before her. She could not mistake them. "That is the Tower, " said one of therowers. A shriek escaped her, and instantly covering her face with herhands, she tried to shut from her sight those very walls she had solong sought amongst the clouds. They imprisoned Wallace! He groanedwithin their confines! and their presence paralyzed her heart. 

"Shall I die before I reach thee, Wallace?" was the question her almostflitting soul uttered, as she, trembling, yet with swift steps, ascended the stone stairs which led from the water's edge to theentrance to the Tower. She flew through the different courts to theone in which stood the prison of Wallace. One of the boatmen, beingbargeman to the Governor of the Tower, as a privileged person, conducted her unmolested through every ward till she reached the placeof her destination. There she dismissed him with a ring from herfinger as his reward; and passing a body of soldiers, who kept guardbefore a large porch that led to the dungeons, she entered, and foundherself in an immense paved room. A single sentinel stood at the endnear to an iron grating, or small portcullis; there, then, was Wallace! Forgetting her disguise and situation, in the frantic eagerness of herpursuit, she hastily advanced to the man:

"Let me pass to Sir William Wallace, " cried she, "and treasures shallbe your reward. "

"Whose treasures, my pretty page?" demanded the soldier; "I dare not, were it at the suit of the Countess of Gloucester herself. "

"Oh!" cried Helen, "for the sake of a greater than any countess in theland, take this jeweled bracelet, and let me pass!"

The man, misapprehending the words of this adjuration, at sight of thediamonds, supposing the page must come from the good queen, no longerdemurred. Putting the bracelet into his bosom, he whispered Helen, that as he granted this permission at the risk of his life, she mustconceal herself in the interior chamber of the prisoner's dungeonshould any person from the warden visit him during their interview. She readily promised this; and he informed her that, when through thisdoor, she must cross two other apartments, the bolts to the entrancesof which she must undraw; and then, at the extremity of a long passage, a door, fastened by a latch, would admit her to Sir William Wallace. With these words, the soldier removed the massy bars, and Helen entered. 

Chapter LXXXII. 

The Tower of London. 

Helen's fleet steps carried her in a few minutes through theintervening dungeons to the door which would restore to her eyes thebeing with whose life her existence seemed blended. The bolts hadyielded to her hands. The iron latch now gave way; and the ponderousoak, grating dismally on its hinges, she looked forward, and beheld theobject of all her solicitude leaning along a couch; a stone table wasbefore him, at which he seemed writing. He raised his head at thesound. The peace of virtue was in his eyes, and a smile on his lips, as if he had expected some angel visitant. 

The first glance at his pale, but heavenly countenance struck to theheart of Helen; veneration, anguish, shame, all rushed on her at once. She was in his presence! but how might he turn from consolations he hadnot sought! The intemperate passion of her step-mother now glaredbefore her; his contempt of the countess' unsolicited advances appearedready to be extended to her rash daughter-in-law; and with anirrepressible cry, which seemed to breathe out her life, Helen wouldhave fled, but her failing limbs bent under her, and she fell senselessinto the dungeon. Wallace started from his reclining position. Hethought his senses must deceive him--and yet the shriek was LadyHelen's. He had heard the same cry on the Pentland Hills; in thechamber of Chateau Galliard! He rose agitated; he approached theprostrate youth, and bending to the inanimate form, took off the Normanhat; he parted the heavy locks which fell over her brow, and recognizedthe features of her who alone had ever shared his meditations with hisMarion. He sprinkled water on her face and hands; he touched hercheek; it was ashy cold, and the chill struck to his heart. "Helen!"exclaimed he; "Helen, awake! Speak to thy friend!"

Still she was motionless. "Dead!" cried he, with increased emotion. His eye and his heart in a moment discerned and understood the rapidemaciation of those lovely features--now fearing the worst; "Gone sosoon!" repeated he, "gone to tell my Marion that her Wallace comes. Blessed angel!" cried he, clasping her to his breast, with an energy ofwhich he was not aware, "take me, take me with thee!" The pressure, the voice, roused the dormant life of Helen. With a torturing sigh sheunsealed her eyes from the death-like load that oppressed them, andfound herself in the arms of Wallace. 

All her wandering senses, which from the first promulgation of hisdanger had been kept in a bewildered state, now rallied; and, inrecovered sanity, smote her to the soul. Though still overwhelmed withgrief at the fate which threatened to tear him from her and life, shenow wondered how she could ever have so trampled on the retreatingmodesty of her nature, as to have brought herself thus into hispresence; and in a voice of horror, of despair, believing that she hadforever destroyed herself in his opinion, she exclaimed: "O! Wallace!how came I here? I am lost--and innocently; but God--the pure God--canread the soul!"

She lay in hopeless misery on his breast, with her eyes again closed, almost unconscious of the support on which she leaned. 

"Lady Helen, " returned he, "was it other than Wallace you sought inthese dungeons? I dared to think that the Parent we both adore hadsent you hither to be His harbinger of consolation!" Recalled toself-possession by the kindness of these words, Helen turned her headon his bosom, and in a burst of grateful tears, hardly articulated:

"And will you not abhor me for this act of madness? But I was notmyself. And yet, where should I live but at the feet of my benefactor?"

The steadfast soul of Wallace was subdued by this language, and themanner of its utterance. It was the disinterested dictates of a purethough agitated spirit, which he now was convinced did most exclusivelylove him, but with the passion of an angel; and the tears of a sympathywhich spoke their kindred natures stole from his eyes as he bent hischeek on her head. She felt them; and rejoicing in such an assurancethat she yet possessed his esteem, a blessed calm diffused itself overher mind, and raising herself, with a look of virtuous confidence, sheexclaimed:

"Then you do understand me, Wallace? you pardon me this apparentforgetfulness of my sex; and you recognize a true sister in Helen Mar?I may administer to that noble heart, till--" she paused, turningdeathly pale, and then clasping his hand in both hers, in bitter agonyadded, "till we meet in heaven!"

"And blissful, dearest saint, will be our union there, " replied he, "where soul meets soul, unencumbered of these earthly fetters; andmingles with each other, even as thy tender teardrops now glide intomine! But there, my Helen, we shall never weep. No heart will be leftunsatisfied; no spirit will mourn in unrequited love, for that happyregion is the abode of love--of love without the defilements or thedisquietudes of mortality, for there it is an everlasting, pureenjoyment. It is a full, diffusive tenderness, which, penetrating allhearts, unites the whole in one spirit of boundless love in the bosomof our God! Who, the source of all love, as John the beloved disciplesaith, 'so loved a lost world, that he sent his only Son to redeem itfrom its sins, and to bring it to eternal blessedness!'"

"Ah!" cried Helen, throwing herself on her knees in holy enthusiasm;"join then your prayers with mine, most revered of friends, that I maybe admitted into such blessedness! Petition our God to forgive me, anddo you forgive me, that I have sometimes envied the love you bear yourMarion! But now I love her so entirely, that to be her and yourministering spirit in Paradise would amply satisfy my soul. "

"O! Helen, " cried Wallace, grasping her uplifted hands in his, andclasping them to his heart, "thy soul and Marion's are indeed one, andas one I love ye!"

This unlooked-for declaration almost overpowered Helen in its flood ofhappiness; and, with a smile, which seemed to picture the very heavensopening before her, she turned her eyes from him to a crucifix whichstood on a table, and bowing her head on its pedestal, was lost in thedevotion of rapturous gratitude. 

At this juncture, when, perhaps, the purest bliss that ever descendedon woman's heart now glowed in that of Helen, the Earl of Gloucesterentered. His were not visits of consolation, for he knew that hisfriend, who had built his heroism on the rock of Christianity, did notrequire the comfortings of any mortal hand. At sight of him Wallacepointing to the kneeling Helen, beckoned him into the inner cell, wherehis straw pallet lay; and there, in a low voice, declared who she was, and requested the earl to use his authority to allow her to remain withhim to the last. 

"After that, " said he, "I rely on you, generous Gloucester, to conveysafely back to her country a being who seems to have nothing of earthabout her but the terrestrial body which enshrines her angelic soul!"

The sound of a voice speaking with Wallace roused Helen from her happytrance. Alarmed that it might be the fatal emissaries of the tyrant, come prematurely to summon him to his last hour, she started on herfeet. "Where are you, Wallace?" cried she, looking distractedly aroundher; "I must be with you even in death!"

Hearing her fearful cry, he hastened into the dungeon, and relieved herimmediate terror by naming the Earl of Gloucester, who followed him. The conviction that Wallace was under mortal sentence, which theheaven-sent impression of his eternal bliss had just almostobliterated, now glared upon her with redoubled horrors. This worldagain rose before her in the person of Gloucester. It reminded herthat she and Wallace were not yet passed into the hereafter, whoseanticipated reunion had wrapt her in such sweet elysium. He had yetthe bitter cup of death to drink to the dregs; and all of humanweakness again writhed within her bosom. "And is there no hope?"faltered she, looking earnestly on the disturbed face of Gloucester, who had bowed with a pitying respect to her as he approached her. Andthen, while he seemed hesitating for an answer, she more firmly, butimploringly resumed: "Oh, let me seek your king? once he was a crusadeprince! The cross was then on his breast, and the love of Him who cameto redeem lost man, nay, even his direst enemies, from death unto life, must have been then in your king's heart. Oh, if once there, it cannotbe wholly extinguished now! Let me, gracious earl, but recall to himthat he was then beloved by a queen who to this day is the glory of hersex. On that spot of holy contest she preserved his life from anassassin's poison, by daring the sacrifice of her own! But she livedto bless him, and to be blessed herself! While Sir William Wallace, also a Christian knight, anointed by virtue and his cause, hath onlydone for his own country and its trampled land what King Edward thendid for Christendom in Palestine. And he was roused to the defense, bya deed worse than ever infidel inflicted! The wife of his bosom--whohad all of angel about her, but that of her mortal body--was stabbed bya murderous Southron governor in Scotland, because she would not betrayher husband to his desolating brand! I would relate this on my knees, to your royal Edward, and call on the spirit of his sainted queen toenforce my suit, by the memory of her love and her devotedness. "

Helen, who had risen in her energy of speech and supplication, suddenlypaused, clasped her hands, and stood with upward eyes, looking as ifshe beheld the beatified object of her invocation. 

"Dearest sister of my soul!" cried Wallace, who had forborne tointerrupt her, taking her clasped hands in his, "thy knees shall neverbend to any less than to the blessed Lord of all mankind, for me! DidHe will my longer pilgrimage on this earth, of which my spirit isalready weary, it would not be in the power of any human tyrant to holdme in these bonds. And, for Edward! believe, that not all thy tendereloquence could make one impression, where a long obdurate ambitionhath set so deep a seal. I am content to go, my sister--and angelswhisper me, " (and his voice became subdued, though still calm, while headded, in a lowered tone, like that angel whisper) "that thy bridal bedwill be in William Wallace's grave!" She spoke not, but at thisassurance turned her tearful eyes upon him, with a beam of delight;with such delight, the vestal consigns herself to the cloister; withsuch delight, the widowed mourner lays her head to rest on the tomb ofhim she loved. But with such delight none are acquainted who know notwhat it is to be wedded to the soul of a beloved being, when the bodywhich was once its vestment lies moldering in the earth. 

Gloucester contemplated this chaste union of two spotless hearts, withan admiration almost amounting to devotion. "Noble lady, " said he, "the message that I came to impart to Sir William Wallace bears with ita show of hope; and, I trust that your gentle spirit will yet be aspersuasive as consolatory. A deputation has just arrived from ourborder-counties, headed by the good Barons de Hilton and DeBlenkinsopp, praying the royal mercy for their gallant foe, who hadbeen most generous to them, they set forth, in their extremity. Andthe king was listening to them, with what temper I know not, when aprivate embassy, as opportunely, made its appearance from France, onthe same errand; in short, to negotiate with Edward for the safety ofour friend, as a prince of that realm. I left the embassadors, "continued the earl, turning to Wallace, "in debate with his majesty;and he has at length granted a suspension--nay, has even promised arepeal of the horrible injustice that was to be completed to-morrow, ifyou can be brought to accord with certain proposals, now to be laidbefore you. Accept them, and Edward will comply with all King Philip'sdemands in your behalf. "

"Then you will accept them!" cried Helen, in a tumult of suspense. Thecommunication of Gloucester had made no change in the equable pulse ofWallace; and he replied, with a look of tender pity upon her animatedcountenance. "The proposals of Edward are too likely to be snares forthat honor which I would bear with me uncontaminated to the grave. Therefore, dearest consoler of my last hours, do not give way to hopeswhich a greater King than Edward may command me to disappoint. " Helenbowed her head in silence. The color again faded from her cheek, anddespair once more seized on her heart. 

Gloucester resumed; and, after narrating some particulars concerningthe conference between the king and the embassadors, he suggested theimpracticality of secretly retaining Lady Helen, for any length oftime, in the state dungeon. "I dare not, " continued he, "be privy toher presence here, and yet conceal it from the king. I know not whatmessengers he may send to impart his conditions to you; and should shebe discovered, Edward, doubly incensed, would tear her from you; and, as an accessory, so involve me in his displeasure, that I should bedisabled from serving either of you further. Were I so to honor hisfeelings as a man as to mention it to him, I do not believe that hewould oppose her wishes; but how to reveal such a circumstance with anyregard to her fair fame, I know not; for all are not sufficientlyvirtuous to believe her spotless innocence. "

Helen hastily interrupted Gloucester, and with firmness said, "When Ientered these walls, the world and I parted forever. The good or theevil opinion of the impure in heart can never affect me--they shallnever see me more. The innocent will judge me by themselves, and bythe end of my race. I came to minister with a sister's duty to my ownand my father's preserver; and while he abides here, I will neverconsent to leave his feet. When he goes hence, if it be to blessmankind again, I shall find the longest life too short to pour forthall my gratitude; and for that purpose I will dedicate myself in somenunnery of my native land. But should he be taken from a world sounworthy of him, soon, very soon, I shall cease to feel its aspersionsin the grave. "

"No aspersions which I can avert, dearest Helen, " cried Wallace, "shallever tarnish the fame of one whose purity can only be transcended byher who is now made perfect in heaven! Consent, noblest of women, towear, for the few days I may yet linger here, a name which thy sisterangel has sanctified to me. Give me a legal right to call you mine, and Edward himself will not then dare to divide what God has joinedtogether!"

Helen paused--even her heart seemed to cease its pulsation in the awfulmoment. Did she hear aright? and was she indeed going to invade therights of the wife she had so often vowed to regard as the sole objectof Wallace's dearest wishes? Oh, no; it was not the lover that shonein his luminous eyes; it was not the mistress that glowed in her bosom. Words might be breathed; but no change would be wrought in the soulsof them who were already separated from the earth. With these thoughtsHelen turned toward Wallace; she attempted to answer, but the wordsdied on the seraphic smile which beamed upon her lips, and she droppedher head upon his breast. 

Gloucester, who saw no other means of insuring to his friend thecomfort of her society, was rejoiced at this mutual resolution. He hadlonged to propose it; but considering the peculiarities of theirsituation, knew not how to do so without seeming to mock theirsensibility and fate. It was now near midnight; and having read theconsent of Helen in the tender emotion which denied her speech, withoutfurther delay he quitted the apartment to summon the confessor of thewarden to unite their hands. 

On his re-entrance, he found Helen sitting, dissolved in tears, withher hand clasped in his friend's. The sacred rite was soon performedwhich endowed her with all the claims upon Wallace which her devotedheart had so long contemplated with resigned hopelessness--to be hishelpmate on earth, his partner in the tomb, his dear companion inheaven! With the last benediction she threw herself on her kneesbefore him, and put his hand to her lips in eloquent silence. Gloucester, with a look of kind farewell, withdrew with the priest. 

"Thou noble daughter of the noblest Scot!" said Wallace, raising herfrom the ground, "this bosom is thy place, and not my feet. Long itwill not be given me to hold thee here; but even in the hours of yearsof our separation my spirit will hover near thee, to bear thine to oureverlasting home. "

The heart of Helen alternatively beat violently, and stopped, as if thevital current were suddenly impeded. Hope and fear agitated her byturns; but clinging to the flattering ideas which the arrival of theembassadors had excited, she timidly breathed a hope that, by thepresent interferences of King Philip, Edward might not be foundinexorable. 

"Disturb not the holy composure of your soul by such an expectation, "returned Wallace; "I know my adversary too well to anticipate hisrelinquishing the object of his vengeance but at a price more infamousthan the most ignoble death. Therefore, best beloved of all on earth!look for no deliverance for thy Wallace but what passes through thegrave; and to me, dearest Helen, its gates are on golden hingesturning; for all is light and bliss which shines on me from withintheir courts!"

Helen's thoughts, in the idea of his being torn from her, could notwrest themselves from the dire images of his execution; she shuddered, and in faltering accents replied, "Ah! could we glide from sleep intoso blessed a death, I would hail it even for thee! But the threatenedhorrors, should they fall on thy sacred head, will in that hour, Itrust, also divorce my soul from this grievous world!"

"Not so, my Helen, " returned he, "keep not thy dear eyes forever fixedon the gloomy appendages of death. The scaffold and the grave havenaught to do with the immortal soul; it cannot be wounded by the onenor confined by the other. And is not the soul thy full and perfectWallace? It is that which now speaks to thee--which will cherish thybeloved idea forever. Lament not, then, how soon this body, its mereapparel, is laid down in the dust. But rejoice still in my existence, which, through Him who 'led captivity captive, ' will never know apause? Comfort then thy heart, my soul's dear sister, and sojourn alittle while on this earth to bear witness for thy Wallace to thefriends he loves. "

Helen, who felt the import of his words in her heart, gently bowed herhead, and he proceeded:

"As the first who stemmed with me the torrent which, with God's help, we so often laid into a calm, I mention to you my faithful men ofLanark. Many of them bled and died in the contest; and to theirorphans, with the children of those who yet survive, I consign all ofthe world's wealth that yet belongs to William Wallace; Ellerslie andits estates are theirs. ** To Bruce, my sovereign and my friend--theloved companion of the hour in which I freed you, my Helen, from thearms of violence! to him I bequeath this heart, knit to him by bondsmore dear than even loyalty. Bear it to him; and when he is summonedto his heavenly throne, then let his heart and mine fill up one urn. To Lord Ruthven, to Bothwell, to Lockhart, to Scrymgeour, and toKirkpatrick I give my prayers and blessings. "

**This bequest of Wallace is a fact. 

Here Wallace paused. Helen had listened to him with a holy attention, which hardly allowed a sigh to breathe from her steadfast heart. Shespoke, but the voice was scarcely audible. 

"And what for him who loves you dearer than life--for Edwin? He cannotbe forgotten!"

Wallace started at this; then she was ignorant of the death of thattoo-faithful friend! In a hurrying accent he replied, "Neverforgotten! Oh, Helen. I asked for him life; and Heaven gave him longlife, even forever and ever!"

Helen's eyes met his, with a look of inquiry:

"That would mean he is gone before you?"

The countenance of Wallace answered her. 

"Happy Edwin!" cried she, and the tears rained over her cheeks as shebent her head on her arms. Wallace continued--

"He laid down his life to preserve mine in the hovel of Lumloch. Thefalse Monteith could get no Scot to lay hands on their true defender;and even the foreign ruffians he brought to the task might have sparedthe noble boy, but an arrow from the traitor himself pierced his heart. Contention was then no more, and I resigned myself, to follow him. "

"What a desert does the world become!" exclaimed Helen; then turning onWallace with a saint-like smile, she added, "I would hardly nowwithhold you. You will bear him Helen's love, and tell him how soon Ishall be with you. If your Father would not allow my heart to break, in his mercy he may take my soul in the prayers which I shall hourlybreathe to him!"

"Thou hast been lent to me as my sweet consolation here, my Helen, "replied he, "and the Almighty dispenser of that comfort will not longbanish you from the object of your innocent wishes. "

While they thus poured into each other's bosoms the ineffable balm offriendship's purest tenderness, the eyes of Wallace insensibly closed. "Your gentle influence, " gently murmured he, "brings that sleep to myeyelids which has not visited them since I first entered these walls. Like my Marion, Helen, thy presence brings healing on its wings. "

"Sleep, then, " replied she, "and Marion's angel spirit will keep watchwith mine. "

Chapter LXXXIII. 

The State Dungeon. 

Though all the furies of the elements seemed let loose to rage aroundthe walls of the dungeon, still Wallace slept in the loud uproar. Calmwas within, and the warfare of the world could not disturb the balmyrest into which the angel of peace had steeped his senses. From thisprofound repose he was awakened by the entrance of Gloucester. Helenhad just sunk into a slight slumber; but the first words of the earlaroused her, and rising, she followed her beloved Wallace to his side. 

Gloucester put a scroll into the hand of Wallace: "Sign that, " said he, "and you are free. I know not its contents; but the king commissionedme, as a mark of his grace, to be the messenger of your release. "

Wallace read the conditions, and the color deepened on his cheek as hiseye met each article. "He was to reveal the asylum of Bruce, toforswear Scotland forever, and to take an oath of allegiance to Edward, the seal of which should be the English earldom of Cleveland!' Wallaceclosed the parchment. "King Edward knows what will be my reply, I neednot speak it. "

"You will accept his terms?" asked the earl. 

"Not to insure me a life of ages, with all earthly bliss my portion! Ihave spoken to these offers before. Read them, my noble friend, andthen give him as mine the answer which would be yours. "

Gloucester obeyed, and while his eyes were bent on the parchment, thoseof Helen were fixed on her almost worshiped husband, she looked throughhis beaming countenance into his very soul, and there saw the sublimepurpose that consigned his unbending head to the scaffold. WhenGloucester had finished, covered with the burning blush of shame, hecrushed the disgraceful scroll in his hand, and exclaimed, withhonorable vehemence, against the deep duplicity, the deeper cruelty, ofhis father-in-law, so to mock by base subterfuges the embassy of Franceand its noble object. 

"This is the morning in which I was to have met my fate!" repliedWallace. "Tell this tyrant of the earth that I am even now ready toreceive the last stroke of his injustice. In the peaceful grave, myHelen, " added he, turning to her, who sat pale and aghast, "I shall bebeyond his power!"

Gloucester walked the room in great disturbance of mind, while Wallacecontinued, in a lowered tone, to recall some perception of his ownconsolations to the abstracted and soul-struck Helen. 

The earl stopped suddenly before them: "That the king did not expectyour acquiescence without some hesitation, I cannot doubt, for when Iinformed him the Lady Helen Mar, now your wife, was the sharer of yourprison, he started, and told me that should you still oppose yourselfto his conditions, I must bring her to him; who might, perhaps, be themeans of persuading you to receive his mercy. "

"Never!" replied Wallace; "I reject what he calls mercy. He has norights of judgment over me, and his pretended mercy is an assumptionwhich, as a true Scot, I despise. He may rifle me of my life, but heshall never beguile me into any acknowledgment of an authority that isfalse. No wife, nor aught of mine, shall ever stand before him as asuppliant for William Wallace. I will die as I have lived, the equalof Edward in all things but a crown, and his superior in being true tothe glory of prince or peasant--unblemished honor!"

Finding the Scottish chief not to be shaken in this determination, Gloucester, humbled to the soul by the base tyranny of his royalfather-in-law, soon after withdrew, to acquaint that haughty monarchwith the ill success of his embassy. But ere noon had turned, hereappeared, with a countenance declarative of some distressing errand. He found Helen awakened to the full perception of all her pendingevils--that she was on the eve of losing forever the object dearest toher in this world! and though she wept not, though she listened to thelord of all her wishes with smiles of holy approval, her heart bledwithin; and, with a welcome which enforced his consolatory arguments, she hailed her own inwardly foreboding mortal pains. 

"I come, " said Gloucester, "not to urge you to send Lady Helen as asuitor to King Edward, but to spare her the misery of being separatedfrom you while life is yours. " He then said that the Frenchembassadors were kept in ignorance of the conditions which were offeredto the object of their mission; and on being informed that he hadrefused them, they showed themselves so little satisfied with thesincerity of what had been done, that Edward thought it expedient toconciliate Philip by taking some pains to dislodge their suspicions. To this effect he proposed to the French lords sending his finalpropositions to Sir William Wallace by that chieftain's wife, who hefound was then his companion in the Tower. "On my intimating, "continued the earl, "that I feared she would be unable to appear beforehim, his answer was, 'Let her see to that; such a refusal shall beanswered by an immediate separation from her husband. '"

"Let me in this demand, " cried she, turning with collected firmness toWallace, "satisfy the will of Edward. It is only to purchase mycontinuance with you. Trust me, noblest of men; I should be unworthyof the name you have given me could I sully it in my person by onedebasing word or action to the author of all our ills!"

"Ah! my Helen, " replied he, "what is it you ask? Am I to live to see arepetition of the horrors of Ellerslie?"

"No, on my life, " answered Glouceseter; "in this instance I wouldpledge my soul for King Edward's manhood. His ambition might lead himto trample on all men; but still for woman he feels as becomes a manand a knight. "

Helen renewed her supplications; and Wallace (aware that should hewithhold her attendance, his implacable adversary, however he mightspare her personal injury, would not forbear wounding her to the soulby tearing her from him) gave an unwilling consent to what might seem asubmission on his part to an authority he had shed his blood to oppose. 

Helen renewed her supplications; and Wallace (aware that should hewithhold her attendance, his implacable adversary, however he mightspare her personal injury, would not forbear wounding her to the soulby tearing her from him) gave an unwilling consent to what might seem asubmission on his part to an authority he had shed his blood to oppose. 

"But not in these garments, " said he; "she must be habited as becomesher sex and her own delicacy. "

Anticipating this propriety, Gloucester had imparted the circumstanceto his countess, and she had sent a casket, which the earl himself nowbrought in from the passage. Helen retired to the inner cell, andhastily arranging herself in the first suit that presented itself, reappeared in female apparel, and wrapped in a long veil. AsGloucester took her hand to lead her forth, Wallace clasped the otherin his. 

"Remember, my Helen, " cried he, "that on no terms but untrammeledfreedom of soul, will your Wallace accept of life. This will not begranted by the man to whom you go; then speak and act in his presenceas if I were already beyond the skies. "

Had this faithful friend, now his almost adoring wife, left his sidewith more sanguine hopes, how grievously would they have been blasted!

After an absence of two hours, she returned to the dungeon of Wallace:and as her trembling form was clasped in his arms, she exclaimed, in apassion of tears:

"Here will I live, here will I die! They may sever my soul from mybody, but never again part me from this dear bosom!"

"Never, never, my Helen!" said he, reading her conference with the kingin the wild terror of its effects. Her senses seemed fearfullydisordered. While she clung to him, and muttered sentences of anincoherency that shook him to the soul, he cast a look of suchexpressive inquiry upon Gloucester, that the earl could only answer byhastily putting his hand on his face to hide his emotion. At last thetears she shed appeared to relieve the excess of her agonies, and shegradually sunk into an awful calm. Then rising from her husband'sarms, she seated herself on his stony couch, and said in a firm voice, "Earl, I can now bear to hear you repeat the last decision of the Kingof England. "

Though not absolutely present at the interview between his sovereignand Lady Helen, from the anteroom Gloucester had heard all that passed, and now he briefly confessed to Wallace, that he had too trulyappreciated the pretended conciliation of the king. Edward's proposalsto Helen were as artfully couched as deceptive in their design. Theirissue was to make Wallace his slave, or to hold him his victim. In hisconference with her, he addressed the vanity of an ambitious woman;then, all the affections of a devoted heart: he enforced his argumentswith persuasions to allure, and threats to compel obedience. In thelast he called up every image to appall the soul of Helen; but, steadfast in the principles of her lord, while ready to sink under themenaced horrors of his fate, she summoned all her strength to giveutterance to her last reply. 

"Mortal distinctions, King of England!" cried she, "cannot bribe thewife of Sir William Wallace to betray his virtues. His life is dear tome, but his immaculate faith to his God and his lawful prince aredearer. I can see him die and live--for I shall join him triumphant inHeaven; but to behold him dishonor himself, to counsel him so to do, isbeyond my power--I should expire with grief in the shameful moment!"

The indignation of the king at this answer was too oppressive of thetender nature of Lady Wallace for Gloucester to venture repeating it toher husband; and, while she turned deathly pale at the recollection, Wallace, exulting in her conduct, pressed her hand silently butfervently to his lips. 

The earl resumed, but, observing the reawakened agonies of her mind inher too expressive countenance, he strove to soften the blow he mustinflict in the remainder of his narrative. 

"Dearest lady, " said he, rather addressing her than Wallace, "toconvince your suffering spirit that no earthly means have been leftunessayed to change the unjust purpose of the king, know that when hequitted you I left in his presence the queen and my wife, both weepingtears of disappointment. On the moment when I found that argumentscould no longer avail, I implored him, by every consideration of Godand man, to redeem his honor, sacrificed by the unjust decreepronounced on Sir William Wallace. My entreaties were repulsed withanger, for the sudden entrance of Lord Athol with fresh fuel to hisflame, so confirmed his direful resolution that, desperate for myfriend, I threw myself on my knees. The queen, and then my wife, bothprostrate at his feet, enforced my suit, but all in vain; his heartseemed hardened by our earnestness; and his answer, while it put us tosilence, granted Wallace a triumph even in his dungeon. 

"Cease!" cried the king, "Wallace and I have now come to that issuewhere one must fall. I shall use my advantage, though I should walkover the necks of half my kindred to accomplish his fate. I can findno security on my throne, no peace in my bed, until I know that he, mydirest enemy, is no more. "

"Sorry am I, generous Gloucester, " interrupted Wallace, "that for mylife, you have stooped your knee to one so unworthy of your nobleness. Let, then, his tyranny take its course. But its shaft will not reachthe soul his unkingly spirit hopes to wound. The bitterness of deathwas passed when I quitted Scotland. And for this body, he may dishonorit, mangle its limbs, but William Wallace may then be far beyond hisreach. "

Gloucester gazed on him, doubting the expression of his countenance. It was calm, but pale even to a marble hue. 

"Surely, " said he, "my unconquered friend will not now be forced toself violence?"

"God forbid!" returned Wallace; "suspect me not of such base vassalageto this poor tabernacle of clay. Did I believe it my Father's willthat I should die at every pore I would submit, for so his immaculateSon laid down his life for a rebellious world. And is a servantgreater than his master, that I should say, Exempt me from this trial?No! I await his summons, but he so strengthens my soul on his breast, that the cord of Edward shall never make my free-born Scottish neckfeel its degrading touch. "

His pale cheek was now luminous with a bright smile as he pressed hisswelling heart. 

With reawakened horror Helen listened to the words of Wallace, whichreferred to the last outrage to be committed on his sacred remains. She recalled the corresponding threats of the king, and again losingself-possession, starting wildly up, exclaimed:

"And is there no humanity in that ruthless man! Oh!" cried she, tearing her eyes from the beloved form on which it had been such blissto gaze, "let the sacrifice of my life be offered to this cruel king tosave from indignity--"

She could add no more, but dropped half lifeless on the arm of Wallace. 

Gloucester understood the object of such anguished solicitude, andwhile Wallace again seated her, he revived her by a protestation, thatthe clause she so fearfully deprecated, had been repealed by Edward. But the good earl blushed as he spoke, for in this instance he saidwhat was not the truth. Far different had been the issue of all hisattempts at mitigation. The arrival of Athol from Scotland withadvices from the Countess of Strathearn, that Lady Helen Mar had fledsouthward to raise an insurrection in favor of Wallace, and that LordBothwell had gone to France to move Philip to embrace the same cause, gave Edward so apt an excuse for giving full way to his hatred againstthe Scottish chief, that he pronounced an order for the immediate andunrestricted execution of his sentence. Artifice to mislead the Frenchembassadors with an idea that he was desirous to accord with theirroyal master's wish, had been the sole foundation of his proposals toWallace. And his interview with Lady Helen, though so intemperatelyconducted, was dictated by the same subtle policy. 

When Gloucester found the impossibility of obtaining any furtherrespite from the murderous decree, he attempted to prevail for theremission of the last clause, which ordered that his friend's noblebody should be dismembered, and his limbs sent, as terrors torebellion, to the four capital fortresses of Scotland. Edward spurnedat this petition with even more acrimony than he had done the prayerfor his victim's life, and Gloucester then starting from his knee, in aburst of honest indignation exclaimed, "Oh! king, remember what is doneby thee this day. Refusing to give righteous judgment in favor of onewho prefers virtue to a crown and life! As insincere, as secret, havebeen your last conditions with him, but they will be revealed when thegreat Judge that searcheth all men's hearts shall cause thee to answerfor this matter at the dreadful day of universal doom. Thou has nowgiven sentence on a patriot and a prince, and then shall judgment begiven on thee!"

"Dangerous indeed is his rebellious spirit, " cried Edward, in almostspeechless wrath, "since it affects even the duty of my own house!Gloucester, leave my presence, and on pain of your own death, dare notapproach me till I send for you, to see this rebel's head on LondonBridge!"

To disappoint the revengeful monarch of at least this object of hismalice, Gloucester was now resolved, and imparting his wishes to thewarden of the Tower, who was his trusty friend, he laid a planaccordingly. 

Helen had believed his declaration to her, and bowed her head in signthat she was satisfied with his zeal. The earl, addressing Wallace, continued: "Could I have purchased thy life, thou preserver of mine, with the forfeiture of all I possess I should have rejoiced in theexchange. But as that may not be, is there aught in the world which Ican do to administer to thy wishes?"

"Generous Gloucester!" exclaimed Wallace, "how unwearied has been yourfriendship! But I shall not tax it much further. I was writing mylast wishes when this angel entered my apartment; she will now be thevoice of William Wallace to his friends. But still I must make onerequest to you--one which I trust will not be out of your power. Letthis heart, ever faithful to Scotland, be at least buried in its nativecountry. When I cease to breathe, give it to Helen, and she willmingle it with the sacred dust of those I love. For herself, dearGloucester! ah! guard the vestal purity and life of my best beloved!for there are those who, when I am gone, may threaten both. "

Gloucester, who knew that in this apprehension Wallace meant the LordsSoulis and De Valence, pledged himself for the performance of his firstrequest; and for the second, he assured him he would protect Helen as asister. But she, regardless of all other evils than that of beingsevered from her dearest and best friend, exclaimed in bitter sorrow:

"Wherever I am, still and forever shall all of Wallace that remains onearth be with me. He gave himself to me, and no mortal power shalldivide us!"

Gloucester could not reply before the voice of the warden, calling tohim that the hour of shutting the gates was arrived, compelled him tobid his friend farewell. He grasped the hand of Wallace with a strongemotion, for he knew that the next time he should meet him would be onthe scaffold. During the moments of his parting, Helen, with her handsclasped on her knees, and her eyes bent downward, inwardly andearnestly invoked the Almighty to endow her with fortitude to bear thehorrors she was to witness, that she might not, by her agonies, add tothe tortures of Wallace. 

The cheering voice, that was ever music to her ears, recalled her fromthis devout abstraction. He laid his hand on hers, and gazing on herwith a tender pity, held such sweet discourse with her on theapproaching end of all his troubles, of his everlasting happiness, where "all tears are dried away!" that she listened, and wept, and evensmiled. 

"Yes, " added he, "a little while, and my virgin bride shall give me herdear embrace in heaven; angels will participate our joy, and myMarion's grateful spirit join the blest communion! She died topreserve my life; you suffered a living death to maintain my honor!Can I then divide ye, noblest of created beings, in my soul! Take, then, my heart's kiss, dear Helen, thy Wallace's last earthly kiss!"

She bent toward him, and fixed her lips to his. It was the first timethey had met; his parting words still hung on them, and an icy cold ranthrough all her veins. She felt his heart beat heavily against hers, as he said:

"I have not many hours to be with thee, and yet a strange lethargyoverpowers my senses; but I shall speak to thee again!"

He looked on her as he spoke, with such a glance of holy love, that notdoubting he was now bidding her, indeed, his last farewell, that he wasto pass from this sleep out of the power of man, she pressed his handwithout a word, and as he dropped his head back upon his straw pillow, with an awed spirit she saw him sink to profound repose. 

Chapter LXXXIV. 

Tower Hill. 

Long and silently had she watched his rest. So gentle was his breath, that he scarcely seemed to breathe; and often, during her sad vigils, did she stoop her cheek to feel the respiration which might still bearwitness that his outraged spirit was yet fettered to earth. Shetremblingly placed her hand on his heart, and still its warm beatsspake comfort to hers. The soul of Wallace, as well as his belovedbody, was yet clasped in her arms. "The arms of a sister enfold thee, "murmured she to herself; "they would gladly bear thee up, to lay theeon the bosom of thy martyred wife; and there, how wouldst thou smileupon and bless me! And shall we not meet so before the throne of Himwhose name is Truth?"

The first rays of the dawn shone upon his peaceful face just as thedoor opened, and a priest appeared. He held in his hands the sacredhost, and the golden dove, for performing the rites of the dying. Atthis sight, the harbinger of a fearful doom, the fortitude of Helenforsook her; and throwing her arms frantically over the sleepingWallace, she exclaimed, "He is dead! his sacrament is now with the Lordof Mercy!" Her voice awakened Wallace; he started from his position;and Helen seeing, with a wild sort of disappointment that he, whosegliding to death in his sleep she had even so lately deprecated, now, indeed, lived to mount the scaffold, in unutterable horror, fell backwith a heavy groan. 

Wallace accosted the priest with a reverential welcome; and thenturning to Helen, tenderly whispered her, "My Helen! in this moment ofmy last on earth, O! engrave on thy heart, that--in the sacred words ofthe patriarch of Israel--I remember thee, in the kindness of thy youth!in the love of thy desolate espousals to me! when thou camest after meinto the wilderness, into a land thou didst not know, and comforted me! And shalt thou not, my soul's bride, be sacred unto our Lord? the Lordof the widow and the orphan! To Him I commit thee, in steadfast faiththat He will never forsake thee! Then, O, dearest part of myself, letnot the completion of my fate shake your dependence on the only Trueand Just. Rejoice that Wallace has been deemed worthy to die for hishaving done his duty. And what is death, my Helen, that we should shunit, even to rebelling against the Lord of Life? Is it not the doorwhich opens to us immortality? and in that blest moment who will regretthat he passed through it in the bloom of his years? Come, then, sister of my soul, and share with thy Wallace the last supper of hisLord; the pledge of the happy eternity to which, by His grace, I nowascend!"

Helen, conscience-struck and re-awakened to holy confidence by theheavenly composure of his manner, obeyed the impulse of his hand, andthey both knelt before the minister of peace. While the sacred riteproceeded, it seemed the indissoluble union of Helen's spirit with thatof Wallace: "My life will expire with his!" was her secret response tothe venerable man's exhortation to the anticipated passing soul; andwhen he sealed Wallace with the holy cross, under the last unction, asone who believed herself standing on the brink of eternity, she longedto share also that mark of death. At that moment the dismal toll of abell sounded from the top of the Tower. The heart of Helen paused. The warden and his train entered. "I will follow him, " cried she, starting from her knees, "into the grave itself!"

What was said, what was done, she knew not, till she found herself onthe scaffold, upheld by the arm of Gloucester. Wallace stood beforeher, with his hands bound across and his noble head uncovered. Hiseyes were turned upward, with a martyr's confidence in the Power heserved. A silence, as of some desert waste, reigned throughout thethousands who stood below. The executioner approached to throw therope over the neck of his victim. At this sight, Helen, with a crythat was reechoed by the compassionate spectators, rushed to his bosom. Wallace, with a mighty strength, burst the bands asunder whichconfined his arms, and clasping her to him with a force that seemed tomake her touch his very heart, his breast heaved as if his soul werebreaking from its outraged tenement; and, while his head sunk on herneck, he exclaimed, in a low and interrupted voice:

"My prayer is heard, Helen! Life's cord is cut by God's own hand! Mayhe preserve my country, and-- Oh! trust from my youth--"

He stopped--he fell; and with the shock, the hastily-erected scaffoldshook to its foundation. The pause was dreadful. 

The executioner approached the prostrate chief. Helen was still lockedclose in his arms. The man stooped to raise his victim, but theattempt was beyond his strength. In vain he called on him--toHelen--to separate, and cease from delaying the execution of the law;no voice replied, no motion answered his loud remonstrance. Gloucester, with an agitation which hardly allowed him power to speakor move, remembered the words of Wallace, "that the rope of Edwardwould never sully his animate body!" and, bending to his friend, hespoke; but all was silent there. He raised the chieftain's head, and, looking on his face, found indeed the indisputable stamp of death. 

"There, " cried he, in a burst of grief, and letting it fall again uponthe insensible bosom of Helen--"there broke the noblest heart that everbeat in the breast of man!"

The priests, the executioners crowded round him at this declaration. But, while giving a command in a low tone to the warden, he took themotionless Helen in his arms, and leaving the astonished group roundthe noble dead, carried her from the scaffold back into the Tower. **

**The last words of Wallace were from the 71st Psalm--"My trust from myyouth! O Lord God, thou art my hope unto the end!"

Chapter LXXXV. 

The Warden's Apartments. 

On the evening of the fatal day in which the sun of William Wallace hadset forever on his country, the Earl of Gloucester was imparting to theWarden of the Tower his last directions respecting the sacred remains, when the door of the chamber suddenly opened, and a file of soldiersentered. A man in armor, with his visor closed, was in the midst ofthem. The captain of the band told the warden that the person beforehim had behaved in a most seditious manner. He first demandedadmittance into the Tower; then, on the sentinel making answer that inconsequence of the recent execution of the Scottish chief, orders hadbeen given "to allow no strangers to approach the gates till thefollowing morning, " he, the prisoner, burst into a passionate emotion, uttering such threats against the King of England, that the captainthought it his duty to have him seized and brought before the warden. 

On the entrance of the soldiers, Gloucester had retired into the shadowof the room. He turned round on hearing these particulars. When thecaptain ceased speaking, the stranger fearlessly threw up his visor andexclaimed:

"Take me, not to our warden alone, but to your king; let me pierce hisconscience with his infamy--would it were to stab him ere I die!"

In this frantic adjuration, Gloucester discovered the gallant Bruce. And hastening toward him to prevent his apparently determined exposureof himself, with a few words he dismissed the officer and his guard;and then, turning to the warden, "Sir Edward, " said he, "this strangeris not less my friend than he that was Sir William Wallace!"

"Then far be it from me, earl, to denounce him to our enraged monarch. I have seen enough of noble blood shed already. And though we, thesubjects of King Edward, may not call your late friend a martyr, yet wemust think his country honored in so steady a patriot, and may surelywish we had many the like in our own!" With these words the worthy oldknight bowed and withdrew. 

Bruce, who had hardly heard the observation of the warden, on hisdeparture turned upon the earl, and, with a bursting heart, exclaimed:

"Tell me, is it true? Am I so lost a wretch as to be deprived of mybest, my dearest friend? And is it true, as I am told, that everyinfernal rigor of the sentence has been executed on that brave andbreathless body! Answer me to the fact, that I may speedily take mycourse!"

Alarmed at the direful expression of his countenance, with a quiveringlip, but in silence, Gloucester laid his hand upon his arm. Bruce toowell understood what he durst not speak, and, shaking it off, frantically:

"I have no friend!" cried he. "Wallace! my dauntless, my only Wallace, thou art rifled from me! And shall I have fellowship with these? No, all mankind are my enemies, and soon will I leave their detestedsojourn!"

Gloucester attempted to interrupt him; but he broke out afresh and withredoubled violence:

"And you, earl, " cried he, "lived in this realm, and suffered such asacrilege on God's most perfect work! Ungrateful, worthless man! fillup the measure of your baseness; deliver me to Edward, and let me bravehim to his face. Oh! let me die, covered with the blood of thyenemies, my murdered Wallace! my more than brother, that shall be theroyal robe thy Bruce will bring to thee!"

Gloucester stood in dignified forbearance under the invectives andstormy grief of the Scottish prince; but when exhausted nature seemedto take rest in momentary silence, he approached him. Bruce cast onhim a lurid glance of suspicion. 

"Leave me!" cried he; "I hate the whole world, and you the worst in it;for you might have saved him, and you did not--you might have preservedhis sacred limbs from being made the gazing-stock of traitors, and youdid not. Away from me, apt son of a tyrant, lest I tear you inpiecemeal!"

"By the heroic spirit of him whom this outrage on me dishonors, hear myanswer, Bruce! And, if not on this spot, let me then exculpate myselfby the side of his body, yet uninvaded by a sacrilegious touch. "

"How?" interrupted Bruce. Gloucester continued:

"All that was mortal in our friend now lies in a distant chamber ofthis quadrangle. When I could not prevail on Edward, either byentreaty or reproaches, to remit the last gloomy vengeance of tyrants, I determined to wrest its object from his hands. A notorious murdererdied yesterday under the torture. After the inanimate corpse of ourfriend was brought into this house, to be conveyed to the scene of itslast horrors, by the assistance of the warden the malefactor's body wasconveyed here also, and placed on the traitor's sledge, in the stead ofhis who was no traitor, and on that murderer most justly fell the rigorof so dreadful a sentence. "

The whole aspect of Bruce changed during this explanation, which wasfollowed by a brief account from Gloucester of their friend's heroicsuffering and death. 

"Can you pardon my reproaches to you?" cried the prince, stretching outhis hand. "Forgive, generous Gloucester, the distraction of a severelywounded spirit!"

This pardon was immediately accorded; and Bruce impetuously added:

"Lead me to these dear remains, that with redoubled certainty I maystrike his murderer's heart! I came to succor him. I now stay todie--but not unrevenged!"

"I will lead you, " returned the earl, "where you shall learn adifferent lesson. His soul will speak to you by the lips of his bride, now watching by those sacred relics. Feeble is now her lamp of life;but a saint's vigilance keeps it burning, till it may expire in thegrave with him she so chastely loved. "

A few words gave Bruce to understand that he meant Lady Helen Mar; andwith a deepened grief when he heard in what an awful hour their handswere plighted, he followed his conductor through the quadrangle. 

When Gloucester gently opened the door, which contained the remains ofthe bravest and the best, Bruce stood for a moment on the threshold. At the further end of the apartment, lighted by a solitary taper, laythe body of Wallace on a bier, covered with a soldier's cloak. Kneeling by its side, with her head on its bosom, was Helen. Her hairhung disordered over her shoulders, and shrouded with its dark locksthe marble features of her beloved. Bruce scarcely breathed. Heattempted to advance, but he staggered and fell against the wall. Shelooked up at the noise; but her momentary alarm ceased when she sawGloucester. He spoke in a tender voice. 

"Be not agitated, lady; but here is the Earl of Carrick. "

"Nothing can agitate me more, " replied she, turning mournfully towardthe prince; who, raised from his momentary dizziness, beheld herregarding him with the look of one already an inhabitant of the grave. "Helen!" faintly articulated Bruce; "I come to share your sorrows, andto avenge them. "

"Avenge them!" repeated she, after a pause; "is there aught invengeance that can awaken life in these cold veins again? Let themurderers live in the world they have made a desert by the destructionof its brightest glory, and then our home will be his tomb!" Again shebent her head upon Wallace's cold breast; and seemed to forget that shehad been spoken to--that Bruce was present. 

"May I not look upon him?" cried he, grasping her hand. "Oh! Helen, show me that heroic face from whose beams my heart first caught thefire of virtue!" She moved; and the clay-hued features of all that wasever perfect in manly beauty met his sight. But the bright eyes wereshut; the radiance of his smile was dimmed in death, yet still thatsmile was there. Bruce precipitated his lips to his, and sinking onhis knees, remained in a silence only broken by his sighs. 

It was an awful and heart-breaking pause, for the voice which in allscenes of weal or woe had ever mingled sweetly with theirs, was silent. Helen, who had not wept since the tremendous hour of the morning, nowburst into an agony of tears; and the vehemence of her feelings tearingso delicate a frame (now rendered weak unto death by a consumingsickness, which her late exertions and present griefs had made seize onher very vitals), seemed to threaten the immediate extinction of herbeing. Bruce, aroused by her smothered cries, as she lay almostexpiring, upheld by Gloucester, hurried to her side. By degrees sherecovered to life and observance; but finding herself removed from thebier, she sprang wildly toward it. Bruce caught her arm to support hertottering steps. She looked steadfastly at him, and then at themotionless body. "He is there, " cried she, "and yet he speaks not! Hesoothes not my grief--I weep, and he does not comfort me! And there helies! O! Bruce, can this be possible? Do I really see him dead? Andwhat is death?" added she, grasping the cold hand of Wallace to herheart. "Didst thou not tell me, when this hand pressed mine andblessed me, that it was only a translation from grief to joy? And isit not so, Bruce? Behold how we mourn and he is happy! I will obeythee, my immortal Wallace!" cried she, casting her arms about him; "Iwill obey thee, and weep no more!"

She was silent and calm. And Bruce, kneeling on the opposite side ofhis friend, listened, without interrupting him, to the arguments whichGloucester adduced to persuade him to abstain from discovering himselfto Edward, or even uttering resentment against him till he could doboth as became the man for whom Wallace had sacrificed so much, eventill he was King of Scotland. "To that end, " said Gloucester, "didthis gallant chieftain live. For, in restoring you to the people ofScotland, he believed he was setting a seal to their liberties andtheir peace. To that end did he die, and in the direful moment, uttered prayers for your establishment. Think then of this, and lethim not look down from his heavenly dwelling and see that Brucedespises the country for which he bled; that the now only hope ofScotland has sacrificed himself in a moment of inconsiderate revenge tothe cruel hand which broke his dauntless heart!"

Bruce did not oppose this counsel; and as the fumes of passion passedaway, leaving a manly sorrow to steady his determination of revenge, helistened with approbation, and finally resolved, whatever violence hemight do his nature, not to allow Edward the last triumph of findinghim in his power. 

The earl's next essay was with Helen. He feared that a rumor of thestranger's indignation at the late execution, and that the Earl ofGloucester had taken him in charge, might, when associated with thefact of the widow of Sir William Wallace still remaining under hisprotection, awaken some dangerous suspicion and direct investigations, too likely to discover the imposition he had put on the executioners ofthe last clause in his royal father's most iniquitous sentence. Hetherefore explained his new alarm to Helen, and conjured her, if shewould yet preserve the hallowed remains before her from any chance ofviolence (which her lingering near them might induce by attractingnotice to her movements), she must consent to immediately leave thekingdom. The valiant and ever faithful heart of Wallace should be hercompanion; and an English captain, who had partaken of his clemency atBerwick, be her trusty conductor to her native land. To meet everyobjection, he added, "Bruce shall be protected by me with strictfidelity till some safe opportunity may offer for his bearing toScotland the sacred corpse that must ever be considered the mostprecious relic in his country. "

"As Heaven wills the trials of my heart, " returned she, "so let it be!"and bending her aching head on the dear pillow of her rest--the bosomwhich, though cold and deserted by its heavenly inhabitant, was stillthe bosom of her Wallace! the ravaged temple rendered sacred by thefootsteps of a god! For, had not virtue, and the soul of Wallace, dwelt there? and where virtue is, there abides the Spirit of the HolyOne! With these thoughts, she passed the remainder of the night invigils; and they were not less devoutly shared by the chastened heartof the Prince of Scotland. 

Chapter LXXXVI. 

Highgate. 

The tidings of the dreadful vengeance which Edward had taken againstthe Scottish nation, by pouring all his wrath upon the head of Wallace, struck like the lightning of heaven through the souls of men. None ofeither country, but those in the confidence of Gloucester, knew thatHeaven had snatched him from the dishonor of so vile a death. TheEnglish turned, blushing, from each other, and ventured not to breathethe name of a man whose virtues seemed to have found a sanctuary forhis fame in every honest heart. But when the news reached Scotland, the indignation was general. All envyings, all strifes were forgotten, in unqualified resentment of the deed. There was not a man, evenamongst the late refractory chiefs, excepting the Cummins, and theircoadjutors Soulis and Monteith, who really had believed that Edwardseriously meant to sentence the Scottish patriot to a severer fate thanwhat he had pronounced against his rebellious vassal, the exiledBaliol. The execution of Wallace, whose offense could only be that ofhaving served his country too faithfully, was therefore so unexpected, that on the first promulgation of it, so great an abhorrence of theperpetrator was excited in every breast, that the whole country rose asone man, threatening to march instantly to London, and sacrifice thetyrant on his throne. 

At this crisis, when the mountains of the north seemed heaving fromtheir base, to overwhelm the blood-stained fields of England, everyheart which secretly rejoiced in the late sanguinary event quailedwithin its possessor, as it tremblingly anticipated the consequences ofthe fall of Wallace. At this instant, when the furies armed every clanin Scotland, breathing forth revenge like a consuming fire before them, John Cummin, the regent, stood aghast. He foresaw his own downfall, inthis reawakened enthusiasm respecting the man whom his treachery hadbeen the first means of betraying to his enemies. Baffled in the aimof his ambition by the very means he had taken to effect it, Cummin sawno alternative, but to throw himself at once upon the bounty ofEngland; and, to this purpose, he bethought him of the only chance ofpreserving the power of past events, that this tempest of thesoul--excited by remorse in some, and gratitude in others--could onlybe maintained to any conclusive injury to England, by a royal hand, andthat that hand was expected to be Bruce's, he determined at once, thatthe prince to whom he had sworn fealty, and to whom he owed his presentelevation, should follow the fate of his friend. By the spies which heconstantly kept round Huntingtower, he was apprised that Bruce had setoff toward London in a vessel from Dundee. On these grounds, he sent adispatch to King Edward, informing him that destiny had established himsupreme lord of Scotland; for not its second and its last hope had puthimself into his hands. With this intelligence, he gave a particularaccount of all Bruce's proceedings, from the time of his meetingWallace in France, to his present following the chief to London. Hethen craved his majesty's pardon for having been betrayed into a unionwith such conspirators; and repeating his hope that the restitution henow made, in thus showing the royal hand where to find its lastopponent, would give full conviction of his penitence and duty. Heclosed his letter by urging the king to take instant and effectualmeasures to disable Bruce from disturbing the quiet of Scotland, orever again disputing his regal claims!

Gloucester happened to be in the presence when this epistle wasdelivered in and read by his majesty. On the suit of his daughter, Edwin had been reconciled to his son-in-law; but when he showed him thecontents of Cummin's letter, with a suspicious smile he said in a loudvoice, "In case you should know this new rebel's lurking-place, presumenot to leave this room till he is brought before me. See to yourobedience, Ralph, or your head shall follow Wallace's. "

The king instantly withdrew, and the earl, aware that search would bemade through all his houses, sought in his own mind for some expedientto apprise Bruce of his danger. To write in the presence=chamber wasimpossible; to deliver a message in a whisper would be hazardous--formost of the surrounding courtiers, seeing the frown with which the kinghad left the apartment, marked the commands he gave the marshal: "Besure that the Earl of Gloucester quits not this room till I return. "

In the confusion of his thoughts, the earl turned his eye on LordMontgomery, who had only arrived that very morning from an embassy toSpain. He had heard with unutterable horror the fate of Wallace; andextending his interest in him to those whom he loved, had arranged withGloucester to accompany him that very evening to pledge his friendshipto Bruce. To Montgomery, then, as to the only man acquainted with hissecret, he turned; and taking his spurs off his feet, and pulling out apurse of gold, he said aloud, and with as easy an air as he couldassume, "Here, my Lord Montgomery, as you are going directly toHighgate, I will thank you to call at my lodge; put these spurs andthis purse into the hands of the groom we spoke of; tell him they donot fit me, and he will know what use to make of them. " He then turnednegligently on his heel, and Montgomery quitted the apartment. 

The apprehension of this young lord was not less quick than theinvention of his friend. He guessed that the Scottish prince wasbetrayed; and to render his escape the less likely to be traced (theground being wet, and liable to retain impression), before he went tothe lodge he dismounted in the adjoining wood, and with his own handsreversed the iron on the feet of the animal he had provided for Bruce. He then proceeded to the house, and found the object of his missiondisguised as a Carmelite, and in the chapel paying his vesperadorations to the Almighty Being on whom his whole dependence hung. Uninfluenced by the robes he wore, his was the devotion of the soul;and not unaptly at such an hour came one to deliver him from a dangerwhich, unknown to himself, was then within a few minutes of seizing itsprey. 

Montgomery entered; and being instantly recognized by Bruce, theingenuous prince, never doubting a noble heart, stretched out his handto him. "I take it, " returned the earl, "only to give it a partinggrasp. Behold these spurs and purse sent to you by Gloucester. Youknow their use. Without further observation follow me. " Montgomerywas thus abrupt, because as he left the palace he had heard the marshalgive orders for different military detachments to search everyresidence of Gloucester for the Earl of Carrick; and he did not doubtthat the party dispatched to Highgate were now mounting the hill. 

Bruce, throwing off his cassock and cowl, again appeared in his martialgarb, and after bending his knee for a moment on the chancel-stonewhich covered the remains of Wallace, he followed his friend from thechapel, and thence through a solitary path to the park, to the centerof the wood. Montgomery pointed to the horse. Bruce grasped the handof his faithful conductor. "I go, Montgomery, " said he, "to mykingdom. But its crown shall never clasp my brows till the remains ofWallace return to their country. And whether peace or the swordrestore them to Scotland, still shall a king's, a brother's friendshipunite my heart to Gloucester and to you. " While speaking he vaultedinto his saddle, and receiving the cordial blessings of Montgomery, touched his good steed with his pointed rowels, and was out of sight inan instant. 

Chapter LXXXVII. 

Scotland -- Dumfries. 

About the hour of twilight on the tenth day after Bruce had cast hislast look on the capital of England--that scene of his long captivityunder the spell of delusion, that theater of his family's disgrace, ofhis own eternal regrets--he crossed the little stream which marked theoft-contended barrier-land of the two kingdoms. He there checked theheadlong speed of his horse, and having alighted to give it breath, walked by its side, musing on the different feelings with which he nowentered Scotland, from the buoyant emotions with which he had sprung onits shore at the beginning of the year. These thoughts, as full ofsorrow as of hope, had not occupied him long when he espied a man, inthe Red Cummin's colors, speeding toward the south. He guessed him tobe some new messenger of the regent to Edward, and throwing himselfbefore the horse, caught it by the bridle, then coolly commanded itsrider to deliver to him the dispatches which he carried to the King ofEngland. The man refused, and, striking his spurs into his beast, tried to trample down his assailant. But Bruce was not to be put fromhis aim. The manner of the Scot convinced him that his suspicions wereright, and putting forth his nervous arm, with one action he pulled themessenger from his saddle and laid him prostrate on the ground. Againhe demanded the papers. "I am your prince, " cried he, "and by theallegiance you owe to Robert Bruce, I command you to deliver them intomy hands. Life shall be your reward, immediate death the punishment ofyour obstinacy. "

In such an extremity the man did not hesitate, and taking from hisbosom a sealed packet, immediately resigned it. Bruce ordered him tostand before him till he had read the contents. Trembling with terrorof this formidable freebooter (for he placed no belief in thedeclaration that he was the Prince of Scotland), the man obeyed, andBruce, breaking his seals, found, as he expected a long epistle fromthe regent, urging the sanguinary aim of his communications. Hereiterated his arguments for the expediency of speedily putting RobertBruce to death; he represented the danger that there was in delay, lesta man so royally descended and so popular as he had become (since itwas now publicly understood that he had already fought his country'sbattles under the name of Sir Thomas de Longueville) should find meansof replacing himself at the head of so many zealots in his favor. These circumstances so propitious to ambition, and now adding personrevenge to his former boldness and policy, would at this juncture(should he arrive in Scotland) turn its growing commotions to the mostdecisive uses against the English power. The regent concluded withsaying, "that the Lords Loch-awe, Douglas, and Ruthven were come downfrom the Highlands with a multitudinous army, to drive out the Southrongarrisons, and to repossess themselves of the fortresses of Stirlingand Edinburgh. That Lord Bothwell had returned from France with thereal Sir Thomas de Longueville, a knight of great valiancy. And thatSir Roger Kirkpatrick, after having massacred half the Englishcastellans in the border counties, was now lying at Torthorald ready tocommence his murderous reprisals through the coasts of Galloway. Forhimself, Cummin told the kind he had secretly removed to the Franciscanmonastery at Dumfries, where he should most anxiously await hismajesty's pardon and commands. "

Bruce closed the packet. To prevent his discovery being betrayed erehe was ready to act, he laid his sword upon the shoulder of the man:"You are my prisoner, " said he; "but fear not. I only mean to hold youin safety till your master has answered for his treason. " Themessenger thought, whoever this imperious stranger might be, that hesaw a truth in his eyes which ratified this assurance; and withoutopposition, he walked before him till they stopped at Torthorald. 

Night had closed in when Bruce sounded his bugle under the walls. Kirkpatrick answered from the embrasure over the barbican-gate with ademand of who desired admittance. 

"'Tis the avenger of Sir William Wallace, " was the reply. The gatesflew open at the words; and Kirkpatrick, standing in the archway amid ablaze of torches, received his guest with a brave welcome. 

Bruce spoke no more till he entered the banqueting-hall. Three otherknights were seated by the table. He turned to Kirkpatrick. "Myvaliant friend, " said he, "order your servants to take charge of yonScot, " pointing to the messenger of Cummin; "and till I command hisrelease, let him be treated with the lenity which shall ever belong toa prisoner of Robert Bruce!" As he spoke he threw up his visor; andKirkpatrick, who had heard that the supposed De Longueville was hisrightful prince, now recognized the well-known features of the braveforeigner in the stranger before him. Not doubting the verity of hiswords, he bent his knee with the homage due to his king; and in theaction was immediately followed by Sir Eustace Maxwell, Sir JamesLindsay, and Adam Fleming, who were the other knights present. 

"I come, " cried the prince, "in the spirit of my heart's sovereign andfriend, the now immortal Wallace, to live or to die with you in thedefense of my country's liberties. With such assistance as yours, hisinvincible coadjutors, and with the blessing of Heaven on our arms, Ihope to redeem Scotland from the disgrace which her late horriblesubmission to the tyrant has fastened on her name. The transgressionsof my house have been grievous; but that last deadly sin of my peoplecalled for an expiation awful indeed! And it came in the moment ofguilt! in their crime they receive punishment. They broke from theirside the arms which alone had rescued them from their enemies! I nowcome to save them from themselves. Their having permitted thesacrifice of the rights of my family was the first injury committed onthe constitution, and it prepared a path for the ensuing tyranny whichseized upon the kingdom. But, by resuming these rights, which is nowmy firm purpose, I open to you a way to recover our hereditaryindependence. The direful scene just acted on the Tower Hill ofLondon, that horrible climax of Scottish treason! must convince everyreasonable mind that all the late misfortunes of our country haveproceeded from the base jealousies of its nobles. There, then, letthem die; and may the grave of Wallace be the tomb of dissension!Seeing where their own true interests point, surely the bravechieftains of this land will rally round their lawful prince, who heredeclares he knows no medium between death and victory!"

The spirit with which this address was pronounced, the magnanimity itconveyed, assisted by the graces of his youth, and noble deportment, struck the hearts of its auditors, and aroused in double vigor theprinciples of resentment to which the first tidings of their heroiccountryman's fate had given birth. Kirkpatrick needed no otherstimulus than his almost idolatrous memory of Wallace, and he listenedwith an answering ardor to Bruce's exhortation. The prince nextdisclosed to his now zealously-pledged friends the particulars of theRed Cummin's treachery. "He now lies at Dumfries!" cried Kirkpatrick;"thither, then, let us go, and confront him with his treason. Whenfalsehood is to be confounded, it is best to grapple with the sorceressin the moment of detection; should we hesitate, she may elude ourgrasp. "

Dumfries was only a few miles distant, and they might reach its conventbefore the first matins. Fatigue was not felt by Bruce when in pursuitof a great object; and, after a slight refreshment, he and his fourdetermined friends took horse. 

As they had anticipated, the midnight bell was ringing for prayers whenthe troop stopped at the Franciscan gate. Lindsay, having been in theHoly Land during the late public struggles, alleged business with theabbot, and desired to see him. On the father's bidding the partywelcome, Bruce stepped forward and addressed him: "Reverend sir, I comefrom London. I have an affair to settle with Lord Badenoch; and I knowby his letters to King Edward, that he is secretly lodged in thisconvent. I therefore command to be conducted to him. " This peremptoryrequisition, with the superior air of the person who made it, did notleave the abbot room to doubt that he was some illustrious messengerfrom the King of England, and with hardly a demur, he left the otherknights in the cloisters of the church while he led the noble Southron(as he thought) to his kinsman. 

The treacherous regent had just retired from the refectory to his ownapartment, as the abbot conducted the stranger into his presence. Badenoch started frowningly from his seat at such unusual intrusion. Bruce's visor was closed; and the ecclesiastic, perceiving the regent'sdispleasure, dispersed it by announcing the visitant as a messengerfrom King Edward. "Then leave us together, " returned he, unwillingthat even this, his convenient kinsman, should know the extent of histreason against his country. The abbot had hardly closed the door, when Bruce, whose indignant soul burned to utter his full contempt ofthe wretch before him, hastily advanced to speak; but the cautiousBadenoch, fearful that the father might yet be within hearing, put hisfinger to his lips. Bruce paused, and listened gloomily to thedeparting steps of the abbot. When they were no more heard, with onehand raising his visor, and the other grasping the scroll of detection:"Thus, basest of the base race of Cummin!" exclaimed he, "you may for amoment elude the universal shame which awaits your crimes. "

At sight of the fate, on hearing the words of Bruce, the unmanly cowarduttered a cry of terror, and rushed toward the door. 

"You pass not here, " continued the prince, "till I have laid open allyour guilt; till I have laid open all your guilt; till I havepronounced you the doom due to a treacherous friend and traitoroussubject. "

"Infatuated Bruce!" exclaimed Badenoch, assuming an air of insultedfriendship, not that he found escape impossible; "what false tongue haspersuaded you to arraign one who has ever been but too faithfully theadherent of your desperate fortunes? I have labored in secret, day andnight, in your service, and thus am I repaid. "

Bruce smiled disdainfully at this poor attempt to deceive him; and, ashe stood with his back against the door, he opened the murderouspacket, and read from it all its contents. Cummin turned pale and redat each sentence; and at last, Bruce closing it:

"Now, then, faithful adherent of Robert Bruce!" cried he, "say what theman deserves who, in these blood-red lines, petitions the death of hislawful prince! Oh! thou arch-regicide! Doth not my very look killthee?"

Badenoch, his complexion turning of a livid hue, and his voicefaltering, attempted to deny the letter having been his handwriting, orthat he had any concern in the former embassy to Edward; then, findingthat these falsehoods only irritated Bruce to higher indignation, andfearful of being immediately sacrificed to his just resentment, hethrew himself on his knees, and confessing each transaction, imploredhis life in pity to the natural desire of self-preservation which, alone, had precipitated him to so ungrateful a proceeding. 

"Oh!" added he, "even this danger I have incurred upon your account!For your ultimate advantage did I bring on my head the perils which nowfill me with dismay! Love alone for you made me hasten the executionof William Wallace, that insidious friend, who would have crept fromyour bosom into your throne. And then, fear of your mistaking themotives of so good a service, betrayed me to throw myself into the armsof Edward!"

"Bury thyself and crimes, thou foulest traitor, deep in the depths ofhell!" cried the prince, starting away with a tremendous gesture! "Outof my sight forever, that I may not pollute these hands with thymonstrous blood!" Till this moment Bruce was ignorant that Badenochhad been the instigator in the murder of Wallace; and forgetting allhis own person wrongs in this more mighty injury, with tumultuoushorror, he turned from the coward to avoid the self-blame of stabbingan unarmed wretch at his feet. But at that moment Cummin, who believedhis doom only suspended, rose from his knee, and drawing his dirk fromunder his plaid, struck it into the back of the prince. Bruce turnedon him with the quickness of thought. "Hah!" exclaimed he, seizing himby the throat, "then take thy fate! This accursed deed hath removedthe only barrier between vengeance and thee--thus remember WilliamWallace!"

As the prince spoke he plunged his dagger into the breast of thetraitor. Cummin uttered a fearful cry, and rolled down at his feetmurmuring imprecations. 

Bruce fled from the spot. It was the first time his arm had drawnblood except in the field of battle, and he felt as if the base tidehad contaminated his hand. In the cloisters he was encountered by hisfriends. A few words informed them of what had happened. 

"Is he dead?" inquired Kirkpatrick. 

"I can hardly doubt it, " answered Bruce. 

"Such a matter, " returned the veteran, "must not be left to conjecture;I will secure him!"** And running forward, he found the wounded regentcrawling from the door of the cell. Throwing himself upon him withoutnoise, he stabbed him to the heart. 

**In memory of this circumstance, the crest of the family ofKirkpatrick is a hand grasping a dagger distilling gouts of blood; themotto, "I mak sikkar. "

Before the catastrophe was known in the convent, Bruce and his friendshad left it some time, and were far on their road to Lochmaben. Theyarrived before sunrise, and once more an inmate of his paternal castle, he thence dispatched Fleming to Lord Ruthven, with a transcript of hisdesigns. 

In the same packed he inclosed a letter for the Lady Isabella. Itcontained this brave resolution--that, in his present return toScotland, he did not consider himself merely as Robert Bruce, come toreclaim the throne of his ancestors, but as the executor of the lastdying will of Sir William Wallace, which was--that Bruce should confirmthe independence of Scotland, or fall, as Wallace had done, invincibleat his post. "Till that freedom is accomplished, " continued thevirtuous prince, "I will never shake the steadfast purpose of my soulby even once glance at thy life-endearing beauties. I am Wallace'ssoldier, Isabella, as he was Heaven's! and, while my captain looks onme from above, shall I not approve myself worthy his example? I wooedyou as a knight, I will win you as a king; and on the day when nohostile Southron breathes in Scotland I will demand my sweetest reward, my beloved bride, of her noble uncle. You shall come to me as theangel of peace, and in one hour we will receive the nuptial benedictionand the vows of our people!"

The purport of the prince's letter to Ruthven was well adapted to thestrain of the foregoing. He then announced his intention of proceedingimmediately to the plain of Stirling; and there, putting himself at thehead of his loyal Scots, declare himself their lawful sovereign, andproclaim to the world that he acknowledged no legal superior but theGreat Being whose vicegerent he was. From that center of his kingdomhe would make excursions to its furthest extremities, and, with God'swill, either drive his enemies from the country, or perish with thesword in his hand, as became the descendant of William the Lion, asbecame the friend of William Wallace!

Ruthven lay encamped on the Carse of Gowrie when this letter wasdelivered to him. He read it aloud to his assembled chieftains, and, with waving bonnets, they hailed the approach of their valiant prince. Bothwell alone, whose soul-devoted attachment to Wallace could not besuperseded by any other affection allowed his bonnet to remain inactivein his hand; but with the ferver of true loyalty he thanked God forthus bringing the sovereign whom his friend loved to bind in one thecontending interests of his country--to wrest from the hand of thatfriend's assassin the scepter for which he had dyed them so deep inblood. 

Chapter LXXXVIII. 

Stirling. 

The word of Bruce was as irreversible as his spirit was determined. Notemptation of indulgence could seduce him from the one, no mischance ofadversity could subdue the other. The standard of liberty had beenraised by him on the Carse of Gowrie, and he carried it in hisvictorious arm from east to west, from the most northern point ofSutherland to the walls of Stirling; but there, the garrison which thetreason of the late regent had admitted into the citadel gave amomentary check to his career. The English governor hesitated tosurrender on the terms proposed, and while his first flag of truce wasyet in the tent of the Scottish monarch, a second arrived to break offthe negotiation. Whatever were the reasons for this abruptdetermination, Bruce paid him not the compliment of asking a wherefore, but advancing his troops to the Southron outposts, drove them in withgreat loss; and, approaching the lower works of the town by the road ofBallochgeich, so alarmed the governor as to induce him to send forthseveral squadrons of horse to stop his progress. 

Vain was the attempt. They shrunk before the resolute prince and hisenthusiastic followers. The governor dispatched others, and at lastmarched himself out to their support. No force seemed able towithstand the pressing valor of the Scots. The Southron saw himself inthe midst of his slain, and deserted by half of his surviving troops. A surrender, both of himself and his fainting companions, was now hisonly recourse. His herald sounded a parley. The generous victor, inthe midst of triumph, listened to the offered capitulation. It was notto include the citadel of Stirling. 

Bruce stopped the herald at this clause, and at once demanded theunconditional surrender of both the town and citadel. The governor, being aware that in his present state there was no alternative, andknowing the noble nature of the prince who made the requisition, yielded to necessity, and resigned the whole into his hands. 

Next morning Bruce entered Stirling as a conqueror, with the whole ofhis kingdom at his feet; for, from the Solway Frith to the NorthernOcean, no Scottish town or castle owned a foreign master. Theacclamations of a rescued people rent the skies; and, while prayers andblessings poured on him from above, below, and around, he did indeedfeel himself a king, and that he had returned to the land of hisforefathers. While he sat on his proud war-horse, in front of thegreat gates of the citadel, now thrown wide asunder to admit itsrightful sovereign, his noble prisoners came forward. They bent theirknees before him; and delivering their swords, received in return, hisgracious assurance of mercy. At this moment all Scottish hearts andwishes seemed riveted on their youthful monarch. Dismounting from hissteed, he raised his helmet from his head, as the souls of his enemies, he raised his helmet from his head, as the Bishop of Dunkeld, followedby all the ecclesiastics in the town, came forward to wait upon thetriumph of their king. 

The beautiful anthem of the virgins of Israel on the conquests ofDavid, was chanted forth by the nuns who in this heaven-hallowed hour, like the spirits of the blest, revisited the world to give the chosenof their land, "All hail. "

The words, the scene, smote the heart of Bothwell; he turned aside andwept. Where were now the buoyant feelings with which he had followedthe similar triumph of Wallace into these gates? "Buried, thoumartyred hero, in thy bloody grave!" New men and new services seemedto have worn out remembrance of the past; but in the memories of eventhis joyous crowd, Wallace lived, though like a bright light which hadpassed through their path, and was gone never more to return. 

On entering the citadel, Bruce was informed by Mowbray, the Englishgovernor, that he would find a lady there in a frightful state ofmental derangement, and who might need his protection. A question ortwo from the victorious monarch told him that this was the Countess ofStrathearn. On the revolted abthanes having betrayed Wallace and hiscountry to England, the joy and ambition of the countess knew nobounds; and hoping to eventually persuade Edward to adjudge to her thecrown, she made it apparent to the English king how useful would be herservices to Scotland; while with a plenary though secret mission, shetook her course through her native land, to discover who were inimicalto the foreign interest, and who, likely to promote her own; after thiscircuit, she fixed her mimic court at Stirling, and living there inreal magnificence, exercised the functions of a vice-queen. At thisperiod intelligence arrived, which the governor thought would fill herwith exultation; and hastening to declare it, he proclaimed to her, that the King of England's authority was now firmly established inScotland, for that on the twenty-third of August Sir William Wallacehad been executed in London, according to all the forms of law, uponthe Tower Hill!

On the full declaration of this event, she fell senseless on the floor. It was not until the next morning that she recovered to perfectanimation, and then her ravings were horrible and violent. She accusedherself of the murder of Sir William Wallace. She seemed to hear himupbraid her with his fate: and her shrieks and tremendous ejaculationsso fearfully presented the scene of his death before the eyes of herattendants, that her women fled and none others of that sex wouldafterward venture to approach her. In these fearful moments thedreadful confession of all her premeditated guilt, of her infuriate anddisappointed passion for Wallace, and her vowed revenge, were revealed, under circumstances so shocking, that the English governor declared tothe King of Scots, while he conducted him toward her apartment, that hewould rather wear out his life in a rayless dungeon, then endure onehour of her agonies. 

There was a dead silence in her chamber as they approached the door. Mowbray cautiously opened it, and discovered the object of their visit. She was seated at the further end of the room on the floor, envelopedin a mass of scarlet velvet she had drawn off her bed; her handsclasped her knees, and she bent forward, with her eyes fixed on thedoor at which they entered. Her once dazzling beauty was nowtransformed to a haggard glare--the terrible lightning which gleamed onthe face of Satan, when he sat brooding on the burning marl of Tartarus. 

She remained motionless as they advanced. But when Bruce stoppeddirectly before her, contemplating with horror the woman whom heregarded as one of the murderers of his most beloved friend, she sprungat once upon him, and clinging to him, with shrieks buried her head inhis bosom. "Save me! save me!" cried she. "Mar drags me down to hell;I burn there, and yet I die not!" Then bursting from Bruce, with animprecation that froze his blood, she flew to the other side of thechamber, crying aloud, "Thou hast torn out my heart! Fiend, I tookthee for Wallace--but I murdered him!" Her agonies, her yells, herattempts at self-violence, were now so dreadful, that Bruce, raisingher bleeding from the hearth on which she had furiously dashed herhead, put her into the arms of the men who attended her, and then, withan awful sense of Divine retribution, left the apartment. 

Chapter LXXXIX. 

Bannockburn. 

The generality of his prisoners Bruce directed should be kept safe inthe citadel; but to Mobray he gave his liberty, and ordered every meansto facilitate the commodious journey of that brave knight whom he hadrequested to convey the insane Lady Strathearn to the protection of herhusband. 

Mowbray accepted his freedom with gratitude, and gladly set forth withhis unhappy charge to meet his sovereign. Expectation of Edward'sapproach had been the reason of his withdrawing his herald from thecamp of Bruce, and though the king did not arrive time enough to saveStirling, Mowbray yet hoped he might still be continuing his promisedmarch. This anticipation the Southron's loyalty would not allow him toimpart to Bruce, and he bade that generous prince adieu, with the fullbelief of soon returning to find him the vanquished of Edward. 

At the decline of day Bruce returned to his camp, to pass the night inthe field with his soldiers, intending next morning to give his lastorders to the detachments which he meant to send out under the commandof Lennox and Douglas, to disperse themselves over the border counties, and there keep station till that peace should be signed by Englandwhich he was determined, by unabated hostilities, to compel. 

Having taken these measures for the security of his kingdom and theestablishment of his own happiness, he had just returned to his tent onthe banks of the Bannockburn when Grimsby, his now faithful attendant, conducted an armed knight into his presence. The light of the lampwhich stood on the table, streaming full on the face of the stranger, discovered to the king his English friend, the intrepid Montgomery. With an exclamation of glad surprise Bruce would have clasped him inhis arms; but Montgomery dropping on his knee, exclaimed, "Receive asubject as well as a friend, victorious and virtuous prince! I haveforsworn the vassalage of the Plantagenets; and thus, without title orland, with only a faithful heart, Gilbert Hambledon comes to vowhimself yours and Scotland's forever. "

Bruce raised him from the ground, and welcoming him with the warmembrace of friendship, inquired the cause of so extraordinary anabjuration of his legal sovereign. "No light matter, " observed theking, "could have so wrought upon my noble Montgomery!"

"Montgomery no more!" replied the ear, with indignant eagerness; "whenI threw the insignia of my earldom at the feet of the unjust Edward, Itold him that I would lay the saw to the root of the nobility I hadderived from his house, and cut it through; that I would sooner leavemy posterity without titles and without wealth, than deprive them ofreal honor. ** I have done as I said! And yet I come not without atreasure, for the sacred corpse of William Wallace is now in my bark, floating on the waves of the Forth!"

**This event is perpetuated in the crest of the noble family ofHamilton in Scotland. 

The subjugation of England would hardly have been so welcome to Bruceas this intelligence. He received it with an eloquent thoughunutterable look of gratitude. Hambledon continued: "On the tyrantsummoning the peers of England to follow him to the destruction ofScotland, Gloucester got excused under a plea of illness, and I couldnot but show a disinclination to obey. This occasioned some remarksfrom Edward respecting my known attachment to the Scottish cause, andthey were so couched as to draw from me this honest answer; my heartwould not, for the wealth of the world, permit me to join in theprojected invasion, since I had seen the spot in my own country where amost inordinate ambition had cut down the flower of all knighthood, because he was a Scot who would not sell his birthright! The king leftme in wrath and threatened to make me recant my words--I as proudlydeclared I would maintain them. Next morning, being in waiting on theprince, I entered his chamber, and found John le de Spencer (the cowardwho so basely insulted Wallace on the day of his condemnation); he wassitting with his highness. On my offering the services due from myoffice, this worthless minion turned on me, and accused me of havingdeclined joining the army for the sole purpose of executing some plotin London, devised between me and my Scottish partisans for thesubversion of the English monarchy. I denied the charge. He enforcedit with oaths, and I spurned his allegations. The prince, who believedhim, furiously gave me the lie, and commanded me as a traitor to leavehis presence. I refused to stir an inch till I made the base heart ofLe de Spencer retract his falsehood. The coward took courage on hismaster's support, and drawing his sword upon me, in language that wouldblister my tongue to repeat, threatened to compel my departure. Hestruck me on the face with his weapon. The arms of his prince couldnot then save him; I thrust him through the body, and he fell. Edwardran on me with his dagger, but I wrested it from him. Then it wasthat, I reply to his menaces, I revoked my fealty to a sovereign Iabhorred, a prince I despised. Leaving his presence before thefluctuations of so versatile a mind could fix upon seizing me, Ihastened to Highgate, to convey away the body of our friend from itsbrief sanctuary. The same night I embarked it and myself on board aship of my own, and am now at your feet, brave and just king!--nolonger Montgomery, but a true Scot in heart and loyalty. "

"And as a kinsman, generous Hambledon!" returned Bruce, "I receive andwill portion thee. My paternal lands of Cadzow, on the Clyde, shall bethine forever; and may thy posterity be as worthy of the inheritance astheir ancestor is of all my love and confidence. "

Hambledon, having received his new sovereign's directions concerningthe disembarkation of those sacred remains, which the young kingdeclared he should welcome as the pledge of Heaven to bless hisvictories with peace, returned to the haven, where Wallace rested inthat sleep which even the voice of friendship could not disturb. 

At the hour of the midnight watch, the trumpets of approaching heraldsresounded without the camp. Bruce hastened to the council-tent toreceive the now anticipated tidings. The communications of Hambledonhad given him reason to expect another struggle for his kingdom, andthe message of the trumpets declared it might be a mortal one. 

At the head of a hundred thousand men, Edward had forced a rapidpassage through the Lowlands, and was now within a few hours' march ofStirling, fully determined to bury Scotland under her own slain, or, byone decisive blow, restore her to his empire. 

When this was uttered by the English herald, Bruce turned to Ruthvenwith an heroic smile:

"Let him come, my brave barons, and he shall find that Bannockburnshall page with Cambus-Kenneth!"

The strength of the Scottish army did not amount to more than thirtythousand men against this host of Southrons. But the relics of Wallacewere there! His spirit glowed in the heart of Bruce. The youngmonarch lost not the advantage of choosing his ground first, andtherefore, as his power was deficient in cavalry, he so took his fieldas to compel the enemy to make it a battle of infantry alone. 

To protect his exposed flank from the innumerable squadrons of Edward, he dug deep and wide pits near to Bannockburn, and having overlaidtheir mouths with turf and brushwood, proceeded to marshal his littlephalanx on the shore of that brook till his front stretched to St. Ninan's Monastery. 

The center was led by Lord Ruthven and Walter Stewart; the right ownedby the valiant leading of Douglas and Ramsay, supported by the braveyoung Gordon with all his clan; and the left was put in charge ofLennox, with Sir Thomas Randolph, a crusade chieftain, who, likeLindsay and others, had lately returned from distant lands, and nowzealously embraced the cause of his country. 

Bruce stationed himself at the head of the reserve; with him were theveterans Loch-awe, and Kirkpatrick, and Lord Bothwell with the true DeLongueville, and the men of Lanark, all determined to make thisdivision the stay of their little army, or the last sacrifice forScottish liberty and its martyred champion's corpse. There stood thesable hearse of Wallace, rather than yield the ground which he hadrendered doubly precious by having made it the scene and the guerdon ofhis invincible deeds! When Kirkpatrick approached the side of his deadchief, he burst into tears, and his sobs alone proclaimed hisparticipation in the solemnity. The vow spread to the surroundinglegions, and was echoed, with mingled cries and acclamations, from thefurthest ranks. 

"My leader, in death as in life!" exclaimed Bruce, clasping hisfriend's sable shroud to his heart; "thy pale corpse shall again redeemthe country which cast thee, living, amongst devouring lions! Itspresence shall fight and conquer for thy friend and king!"

Before the chiefs turned to resume their martial stations, the abbot ofInchaffray drew near with the mysterious iron box, which Douglas hadcaused to be brought from St. Fillan's Priory. On presenting it to theyoung monarch, he repeated the prohibition which had been given withit, and added, "Since, then, these canonized relics (for none can doubtthey are so) have found protection under the no less holy arm of St. Fillan, he now delivers them to your youthful majesty, to penetratetheir secrets, and to nerve your mind with redoubled trust in thesaintly host. "

"The saints are to be honored, reverend father, and on that principle Ishall not invade their mysteries till the God in whom alone I trust, marks me with more than the name of king; till, by a decisive victory, he establishes me the approved champion of my country--the worthysuccessor of him before whose mortal body and immortal spirit I nowemulate his deeds. But as a memorial that the host of heaven do indeedlearn from the bright abodes to wish well to this day, let these holyrelics repose with those of the brave till the issue of the battle. "

Bruce, having placed his array, disposed the supernumeraries of hisarmy, the families of his soldiers, and other apparently uselessfollowers of the camp, in the rear of an adjoining hill. 

By daybreak the whole of the Southron army came in view. The van, consisting of archers and men-at-arms, displayed the banner of Earl deWarenne; the main body was led on by Edward himself, supported by atrain of his most redoubted generals. As they approached, the bishopof Dunkeld stood on the face of the opposite hill between the abbots ofCambus-Keneth and Inchaffray, celebrating mass in the sight of theopposing armies. He passed along in front of the Scottish linesbarefoot, with the crucifix in his hand, and in few but forcible wordsexhorted them by every sacred hope, to fight with an unreceding stepfor their rights, their king, and the corpse of William Wallace! Atthis abjuration, which seemed the call of Heaven itself, the Scots fellon their knees, to confirm their resolution with a vow. The suddenhumiliation of their posture excited an instant triumph in the haughtymind of Edward, and spurring forward, he shouted aloud, "They yield!They cry for mercy!"

"They cry for mercy!" returned Percy, trying to withhold his majesty, "but not from us. On that ground on which they kneel, they will bevictorious or find their graves. "

The king contemned this opinion of the earl, and inwardly believingthat, now Wallace was dead, he need fear no other opponent (for he knewnot that even his cold remains were risen in array against him), heordered his men to charge. The horsemen, to the number of thirtythousand, obeyed; and, rushing forward, with the hope of overwhelmingthe Scots ere they could rise from their knees, met a differentdestiny. They found destruction amid the trenches and on the pikes inthe way, and with broken ranks and fearful confusion, fell or fledunder the missive weapons which poured on them from a neighboring hill. De Valence was overthrown and severely wounded, and being carried offthe field, filled the rear ranks with dismay; while the king's divisionwas struck with consternation at so disastrous a commencement of anaction in which they had promised themselves so easy a victory. Bruceseized the moment of confusion, and seeing his little army distressedby the arrows of the English, he sent Bothwell round with a resolutebody of men to drive those destroying archers from the heights whichthey occupied. This was effected; and Bruce coming up with hisreserve, the battle in the center became close, obstinate, anddecisive. Many fell before the determined arm of the youthful king;but it was the fortune of Bothwell to encounter the false Monteith inthe train of Edward. The Scottish earl was then at the head of hisintrepid Lanarkmen. 

"Fiend of the most damned treason, " cried he, "vengeance is come!" andwith an iron grasp, throwing the traitor into the midst of the faithfulclan, they dragged him to the hearse of their chief, and there, on theskirts of its pall, the wretched villain breathed out his treacherousbreath, under the strokes of a hundred swords. 

"So, " cried the veteran Ireland, "perish the murderers of WilliamWallace!"

"So, " shouted the rest, "perish the enemies of the bravest, the mostloyal of Scots, the benefactor of his country!"

At this crisis the women and followers of the Scottish camp, hearingsuch triumphant exclamations from their friends, impatiently quittedtheir station behind the hill, and ran to the summit, waving theirscarfs and plaids in exultation of the supposed victory. The English, mistaking these people for a new army, had not the power to recoverfrom the increasing confusion which had seized them on King Edwardhimself receiving a wound, and panic-struck with the sight of theirgenerals falling around them, they flung down their arms and fled. Theking narrowly escaped; but being mounted on a stout and fleet horse, heput him to the speed and reached Dunbar, whence the young Earl ofMarch, being as much attached to the cause of England as his father hadbeen, instantly gave him a passage to England. 

The Southron camp, with all its riches, fell into the hands of Bruce. But while his chieftains pursued their gallant chase, he turned hissteps from warlike triumph, to pay his heart's honors to the remains ofthe hero whose blood had so often bathed Scotland's fields of victory. His vigils were again beneath that sacred pall--for so long had beenthe conflict, that night closed in before the last squadrons left thebanks of Bannockburn. 

At the dewy hour of morn Bruce reappeared upon the field. His helmetwas royally plumed, and the golden lion of Scotland gleamed from underhis sable surcoat. Bothwell rode at his side. The troops he hadretained from the pursuit were drawn out in array. In a brief addresshe unfolded to them the solemn duty to which he had called them--to seethe bosom of their native land receive the remains of Sir WilliamWallace. 

"He gave to you your homes and your liberty!--grant, then, a grave, thepeace of the tomb to him, whom some amongst you repaid with treacheryand death!"

At these words a cry, as if they beheld their betrayed chief slainbefore them, issued from every heart. 

The news had spread to the town, and with tears and lamentations a vastcrowd collected round the royal troop. Bruce ordered his bards toraise the sad coronach, and the march commenced toward the open tentthat canopied the sacred remains. The whole train followed thespeechless woe, as if each individual had lost his dearest relative. Having passed the wood, they came in view of the black hearse, whichcontained all that now remained of him who had so lately crossed theseprecincts in all the panoply of triumphant war, in all the graciousnessof peace, and love to man! The soldiers, the people rushed forward, and precipitating themselves before the bier, implored a pardon fortheir ungrateful country. They adjured him, by every tender name offather, benefactor, and friend, and in such a sacred presence, forgetting that their king was by, gave way to a grief which, mosteloquently, told the young monarch that he who would be respected afterWilliam Wallace must not only possess his power and valor, but imitatehis virtues. 

Scrymgeour, who had well remembered his promise to Wallace on thebattlements of Dumbarton, with a holy reference to that vow now laidthe standard of Scotland upon the pall. Hambledon placed on it thesword and helmet of the sacrificed hero. Bruce observed all insilence. The sacred burden was raised. Uncovering his royal head, with his kingly purple sweeping in the dust, he walked before the bier, shedding tears, more precious in the eyes of his subjects than the oilwhich was soon to pour upon his brow. As he thus moved on, he heardacclamations mingle with the voice of sorrow. 

"This is our king, worthy to have been the friend of Wallace! worthy tosucceed him in the kingdom of our hearts. "

At the gates of Cambus-Kenneth, the venerable abbot appeared at thehead of his religious brethren; but without uttering the grief thatshook his aged frame, he raised the golden crucifix over the head ofthe bier, and after leaning his face for a few minutes on it, precededthe procession into the church. None but the soldiers entered. Thepeople remained without, and as the doors closed they fell on thepavement, weeping as if the living Wallace had again been torn fromthem. 

On the steps of the altar the bier rested. The bishop of Dunkeld, inhis pontifical robes, received the sacred deposit with a cloud ofincense, and the pealing organ, answered by the voices of thechoristers, breathed the solemn requiem of the dead. The wreathingfrankincense parted its vapor, and a wan but beautiful form, claspingan urn to her breast, appeared stretched on a litter, and was bornetoward the spot. It was Helen, brought from the adjoining nunnery, where since her return to these once dear shores, now made a desert toher, she had languished in the gradual decay of the fragile bonds whichalone fettered her mourning spirit, eager for release. 

All night had Isabella watched by her couch, expecting that eachsucceeding breath would be the last her beloved sister would draw inthis calamitous world; but as her tears fell in silence from her cheekupon the cold forehead of Helen, the gentle saint understood theirexpression, and looking up:

"My Isabella, " said she, "fear not. My Wallace is returned. God willgrant me life to clasp his blessed remains!"

Full of this hope, she was borne, almost a passing spirit, into thechancel of Cambus-Kenneth. Her veil was open, and discovered her facelike one just awakened from the dead; it was ashy pale, but it bore acelestial brightness, which, like the silver luster of the moon, declared its approach to the fountain of its glory. Her eye fell onthe bier, and, with a momentary strength, she sprung from the couch onwhich she had leaned in dying feebleness, and threw herself upon thecoffin. 

There was an awful pause while Helen seemed to weep. But so was nother sorrow to be shed. It was locked within the flood-gates of herheart. 

In that suspension of the soul, when Bothwell knelt on one side of thebier and Ruthven bent his knee on the other, Bruce stretched out hishand to the weeping Isabella; "Come hither, my youthful bride, and letthy first duty be paid to the shrine of thy benefactor and mine! Somay we live, sweet excellence; and so may we die, if the like may beour meed of heavenly glory!"

Isabella threw herself into his arms and wept aloud. Helen, slowlyraising her head at these words, regarded her sister with a look ofawful tenderness, then turning her eyes back upon the coffin, gazed onit as if they would have pierced its confines, and clasping the urnearnestly to her heart, she exclaimed, "'Tis come! the promise--Thybridal bed shall be William Wallace's grave!"

Bruce and Isabella, not aware that she repeated words which Wallace hadsaid to her, turned to her with portentous emotion. She understood theterrified glance of her sister, and with a smile which bespoke herkindred to the soul she was panting to rejoin, she answered, "I speakof my own espousals. But ere that moment is--and I feel it near--letmy Wallace's hallowed presence bless your nuptials! Thou wilt breathethy benediction through my lips, " added she, laying her hand on thecoffin, and looking down on it as if she were conversing with itsinhabitant. 

"O, no, no" returned Isabella, throwing herself on her knees before thealmost unembodied aspect of her sister; "let me ever be the sharer ofyour cell, or take me with you to the kingdom of Heaven!"

"It is thy sister's spirit that speaks, " cried Dunkeld, observing theawe which not only shook the tender frame of Isabella, but hadcommunicated itself to Bruce, who stood in heart-struck venerationbefore the yet unascended angel, "holy inspiration, " continued thebishop, "beams from her eyes, and as ye hope for further blessings, obey its dictates!"

Isabella bowed her head in acquiescence. As Bruce approached to takehis part in the sacred rite, he raised the hand which lay on the pallto his lips. The ceremony began--was finished! As the bridal notesresounded from the organ, and the royal pair rose from their knees, Helen held her trembling hands over them. She gasped for breath, andwould have sunk without a word, had not Bothwell supported her shadowyform upon his breast. She looked round on him with a grateful thoughlanguid smile, and with a strong effort spoke:

"Be you blessed in all things as Wallace would have blessed you! Fromhis side I pour out my soul upon you, my sister--my being--and, withits inward-breathed prayers to the Giver of all good for your eternalhappiness, I turn, in holy faith--to my long looked-for rest!"

Bruce and Isabella wept in each other's arms. Helen slid gently fromthe boom of Bothwell prostrate on the coffin, and uttering, in a lowtone:

"I waited only for this! We have met--I unite thy noble heart to theeagain--I claim my brother--at our Father's hands--in mercy!--inlove--by his all-blessed Son!"

Her voice gradually faded away as she murmured these broken sentences, which none but the close and attentive ear of Bothwell heard. But hecaught not the triumphant exclamation of her soul, which spoke, thoughher lips ceased to move, and cried to the attending angels:

"Death, where is thy sting? Grave, where is thy victory?"

In this awful moment the Abbot of Inchaffray, believing the dying saintwas prostrate in prayer, laid his hand on the iron box, which stood atthe foot of Wallace's bier. "Before the sacred remains of the oncechampion of Scotland, and in the presence of his royal successor, "exclaimed the abbot, "let this mysterious coffer of St. Fillan's beopened, to reward the deliverer of Scotland, according to its intent!"

"If it were to contain the relics of St. Fillan himself, " returned theking, "they could not meet a holier bosom than this!" and resting thebox on the coffin, he unclasped the lock, and the regalia of Scotlandwas discovered! At this sight, Bruce exclaimed, in an agony ofgrateful emotion, "Thus did this truest of human beings protect myrights, even while the people I had deserted, and whom he had saved, knelt to him to wear them all!"

"And thus Wallace crowns thee!" said Dunkeld, taking the diadem fromits coffer, and setting it on Bruce's head. 

"My husband, and my king!" gently exclaimed Isabella, sinking on herknee before him, and clasping his hand to her lips. 

"Hearest thou that, my beloved Helen?" cried Bothwell, touching theclasped hands which rested on the coffin. He turned pale, and lookedon Bruce. Bruce, in the glad moment of his joy at this happyconsummation of so many years of blood, observed not his glance, but inexulting accents exclaimed, "Look up, my sister; and let thy soul, discoursing with our Wallace, tell him that Scotland is free, andBruce's king indeed!"

She spoke not, she moved not. Bothwell raised her clay-cold face. "That soul has fled, my lord!" said he; "but from yon eternal sphere, they now together look upon your joys. Here let their bodies rest; for'they loved in their lives, and in their deaths they shall not bedivided!"

Before the renewing of the moon, whose waning light witnessed theirsolemn obsequies, the aim of Wallace's life, the object of Helen'sprayers, was accomplished. Peace reigned in Scotland. The discomfitedKing Edward died of chagrin in Carlisle; and his humbled son andsuccessor sent to offer such honorable terms of pacification, thatBruce gave them acceptance, and a lasting tranquility spread prosperityand happiness throughout the land. 

***

APPENDIX. 

NOTE RESPECTING THE PERSONAL CONFORMATION OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE ANDKING ROBERT BRUCE. 

The extraordinary bodily, as well as mental superiority which Wallaceand Bruce possessed over their contemporaries, is thus recorded byHector Boetius:

"About the latter end of the year 1430, King James I. (of Scotland), onreturning to Perth from St. Andrews, found his curiosity excited tovisit a very old lady of the house of Erskine, who resided in theCastle of Kinnoul. In consequence of her extreme old age she had losther sight, but all her other senses were entire, and her body was yetfirm and active. She had seen William Wallace and Robert Bruce in herearliest youth and frequently told particulars of them. The king, whoentertained a love and veneration for great men, resolved to visit theold lady, that he might hear her describe the manners and strength ofthe two heroes. He therefore sent a message acquainting her that hewould come to her the next day. When she was told that the king wasapproaching, she went down into the hall of her castle, attended by atrain of matrons, many of whom were her own descendants. She advancedto meet his majesty so easily and gracefully that he doubted her beingblind! At his desire she embraced and kissed him. He took her by thehand and made her sit down on the seat next to him, and then, in a longconference, he interrogated her on ancient matters. Among others heasked her to tell him what sort of a man William Wallace was; what washis personal figure; what his bearing, and with what degree of strengthhe was endowed. He put the same comparing question to her concerningRobert Bruce. 'Robert, ' said she, 'was a man beautiful, and of fineappearance. His strength was so great that he could easily haveovercome any mortal man of his time, save one--Sir William Wallace!But in so far as he excelled other men, he was excelled by Wallace, both in stature and in bodily strength! For in wrestling, Wallacecould have overthrown two such men as Robert. And he was comely aswell as strong, and full of the beauty of wisdom. '"

I might have thought, had I known the above record in my young days, when I heard my old friend Luckie Forbes describe the Scottish heroes, that she must have been one of those matrons of honor to Lady Kinnoul, and had "seen baith the stalwarth chiefs" in her also venerable life. But the description of my humble historiographer was the work of herown heart, suggested there by tradition, and a holy reverence of eventhe name of William Wallace to help it out; and so my pen, moved by thesame impulse, has attempted to copy the picture she presented. 

NOTE CONCERNING JOANNA OF MAR AND STRATHEARN. 

This unhappy and wicked woman's descendance, as daughter of a Princessof the Orkneys, and her husband, Mellis, Earl of Strathearn, is givenin all the old Scottish genealogical words, and her marriage with Earlde Warenne, followed up by her most unnatural treasons against hernative country, are not less faithfully recorded. But it is somethingcurious that while revising this volume a few years ago, I met aparagraph in the Morning Post newspaper, relative to this verylady--now dead upward of five hundred years--and dated August 26th, 1831; almost the very anniversary-day of Sir William Wallace's death!It was an extract from the Perth Courier, and runs thus:

"In preparing the foundation of the classical monument which Lady Bairdis about to erect on Tom-a-Chastel, to the memory of Sir David, theworkmen discovered the remains of an extensive edifice, intermixed witha blackish mold, in which human bones frequently occur, with stirrups, buckles, and other decayed fragments of ancient armor. In anexcavation were found a quantity of black earth, the debris of animalmatter, some human bones, a bracelet, and a considerable portion ofcharcoal, from which it may be concluded that the individuals whoseremains were discovered, had perished during a conflagration of thecastle. The tradition of the country is, that--Three ladies had beenthere burned to death. And as it is known that the Lady of Strathearn, a daughter of the Earl of Orkney, involved herself in the quarrelsbetween Bruce and Baliol, and was, after the ascendency of the former, in a parliament held at Scone in 1329, doomed to perpetual imprisonmentfor the crime of laesoe majestatis, it is no violent stretch ofconjecture to come to the conclusion that this very lady may have beenone of the unhappy victims whose remains have been thus accidentallybrought to light. The excavation undoubtedly (being the most probablysupposition) was that usually found in the base of the dungeon-keep ofthe castle. Tom-a-Chastel, on the summit of which Sir David Baird'smonument is to be placed, overlooks the whole strath, and is evenvisible from Dundee. " So far the note from the Perth, newspaper (whichwas first appended to this "almost veritable romance-biography of SirWilliam Wallace, " in the edition of 1831); and on comparing thecircumstances and dates of the period referred to, it does not seemimprobable that such might have been the fearful end of that ambitiousand cruelly impassioned woman. Earl de Warenne was not a man to burdenhimself with cares for such a partner, after her treasons had becomeabortive, in the secret continuance of which, most likely, she had beendiscovered in some of her territorial permitted visits to her inheritedlands in Scotland. And the relics of the other two female forms foundin the ashes, may reasonably be supposed to have been those of herpersonal attendants, sharing her captivity. 

The above coincidence of recollections between the far past, and thepresent nearly but passing events, may be regarded as ratherremarkable, for the hill of Tom-a-Chastel may now be looked upon as anobject recalling to memory of two heroes. One Scotland's noblest son, of full five hundred ages gone! The other, her boast on the plains ofIndia, within our own remembrance. While the same summit brings two ofher daughters likewise to eminent recollection. One that disgraced hersex in every relation of life; the other, who honors it, in all. Thehand of the first would have destroyed her country's greatest hero; thehand of the second raised a tumulus, to maintain the memory and theexample of such true sons of her country in a perpetual existence. 

THE SCARF OF JAMES THE FIFTH OF SCOTLAND, IN THE POSSESSION OF DR. JEFFERSON, OF WEST LODGE, CLAPHAM. 

This scarf belonged to, and was worn by the truly royal, but somethingromantically adventurous King of Scotland, James the Fifth. He wasfond of roaming about in his dominions, like the celebrated Haroun AlRashid, in various disguises, to see and to observe; and to makeacquaintance with his people of all degrees, without being known bythem. In one of these incognito wanderings, about the year 1533, hewas hospitably entertained for a night, by an ancestor of Dr. Jefferson's lady, a man of liberal name in the country; and whounwittingly had given most courteous bed and board to his sovereign(then personally unknown to him), when he thought he was entertaining aperson not much above the rank of the commonest degree, it being themonarch's humor generally to assume the most ordinary garb outwardly;and it therefore depended on the tact of the entertainer, from his owninherent nobleness, to discern the real quality of the mind and mannersof his transitory guest. The host in question did not discern that itwas his sovereign he was then treating like a prince; but he felt itwas a visitant, be he whom he may, that was worthy his utmost respect;and the monarch, highly pleased with his night's lodging, and previousgracious welcome, on his departure next morning, presented to the ladyof the mansion a grateful tribute to her good care, in the form of asmall parcel rolled up, which, when opened, they found to be a splendidscarf, indorsed to herself and lord, in the name of the Gudemon o'Ballangeich. All then knew it was the "generous and pleasant King ofScotland" who had been their guest. 

The Scottish Chief on whom this beautiful memorial of receivedhospitality had been bestowed, was John Baird, of Burntisland, inFifeshire, from whom the writer of this note literally traces thepresent inheritance of the scarf. John Burgh had an only daughter, whomarried John Balfour, K. N. , who also had an only daughter, and shemarried Gilbert Blair, brother to Blair of Ard-Blair. Their only son, James Blair, married Jane Morrison, daughter of -- Morrison, Esq. , andan heiress of the brave house of Ramsay, by which marriage the ancientand honorable families of Burgh, Blair, and Ramsay, were woven into onebranch; and from this branch, indeed, from the first set-off of itsunited stem was born of this marriage, Margaret Blair, who dying in theyear 1836, bequeathed the long-cherished scarf to Dr. Jefferson, theworthy husband of her beloved kinswoman--direct in the line of JohnBurgh, to whom it had originally been given. 

The scarf was composed of a rich and brilliant tissue of gold andsilver threads, interwoven with silk-embroidered flowers in theirnatural colors. They are chiefly pansies, the emblems of remembrance;thistles, the old insignia of Scotland; and the field daisy, thefavorite symbol of King James' mother, the beautiful Queen Margaret. The flowers, entwined together, run in stripes down the splendid web ofthe scarf, which terminates at each end with what has been amagnificent fringe of similar hues and brightness. The scarf is sevenfeet in length, by one foot nine inches in width. 

This interesting bequest was still further enriched to Dr. Jefferson bythe addition of a cap and gloves, which, tradition says, the worthychief of Burntisland wore on his nuptial day. There was also a smallerpair of gloves, of a more delicate size and texture, appropriated bythe same testimony to the fair bride. But these articles are supposedto have been of earlier fabric than that of the scarf--probably theyear 1500--and they are of less exquisite manufacture; the formerappearing to be from the fine looms of France, and the latter wroughtin the less practiced machinery of our then ruder northern isle. Thecap is of a pale red silk, with gold cord and embroidery down theseams, it being formed to fit the head, and therefore in compartments;broad where they are inserted into the rich fillet-band round the head, and narrowing to the closely-fitting top. It looked something like anAlbanian cap. The gloves, which are said to have been those of thechief, were of a brownish fine leather, with embroidered gauntlet tops. The lady's are of a lighter hue, still softer leather, with gay fringeof varied-colored silk and gold, and tassels at the wrists. Both thesepairs of gloves were well shaped and most neatly sewed. 

On these relics of antiquity, and of ancestorial memorials devolving onDr. Jefferson, he sought for a place of deposit for them, suitable totheir dignity, their character, and their times. He had in hispossession a curious old table, of the era of Henry the Eighth, whichhe soon adapted to the purpose. Its large oaken slab was of sufficientdimensions to admit of the royal gift being spread in graceful foldsover the dark surface of the wood, which the better displayed thetissue's interchanging tints, and also gave room for the disposal ofthe cap and gloves, which were placed in a kind of armorial crestbetween its gauntlets, at the head of the scarf, and at its foot wasadded a beautifully written inscription in old emblazoned characters, historic of the interesting relics above. The whole is secured fromdust or other injury by a covering of plate-glass, extending over theentire surface of the table, which, having a raised carved oakparapet-border of about four inches high along all its sides, forms asort of castellated sanctuary that completely defends from accident theglass and the treasure beneath it; which is distinctly seen through thelucid medium. 

The shape of the table is like that we call a sofa-table, but verylong, being five feet by two and a half. The depth of its friezealtogether is eight inches, for it extends four inches below thefour-inch parapet above, and this lower portion is worked into afoliage enwreathing the sides. The whole height of the table from thefeet of its four-clawed pedestal, is three feet two inches. Thispedestal, or rather branching stem of polished oak--being of the sturdycontour of its original growth, with its superb ramificationssupporting the precious slab above--shows an elaborate design in itscarvings, far beyond my power to describe, so luxuriant, so various, sointricate, one might almost suppose that the matchless tool of thefamous Benevanta Cellini had traced its wild and graceful grotesque. The four claws, which are like roots from the stem of the pedestal, partake of the same rich arabesque in their design, and terminate inthe form of lion's paws. 

The End.