39 Stirling Castle and Council Hall The Countess's chivalric tribute from the window gave Wallace reason to anticipate her company in his visit to Lady Rathven. And on finding the room vacant he dispatched Edwin for his mother, that he might not be distressed by the unchecked advances of a woman whom, as the wife of Lord Mar, he was obliged to see, and whose weakness he pitied as she belonged to a sex for which, in consideration of the felicity once bestowed on him by a woman, he felt a peculiar tenderness. Perhaps the Countess he could not, nor indeed could he feel any gratitude for a preference which seemed to him to have no foundations in the only true basis of love, the virtues of the object. For as she acted against every moral law, against his declared sentiments, it was evident that she placed little value on his esteem, and therefore he despised, while he pitied, a human creature ungovernably yielding herself to the sway of her passions. In the midst of thoughts so little to her advantage, Lady Mar entered the room. Wallace turned to meet her. While she, hastening toward him, and dropping on one knee exclaimed, let me be the first woman in Scotland to acknowledge its king. Wallace put forth his hand to raise her, and smiling replied, Lady Mar, you would do me an honour I can never claim. How! cried she, starting up. What then was that cry I heard? Did they not call you prince and sovereign? Did not my Lord Buchenne, confused, disappointed, overpowered, she left the sentence unfinished, sunk on a seat, and burst into tears? At that moment she saw her anticipated crown fall from her head, and having united the gaining of Wallace with his acquisition of this dignity, all her hopes seemed against the sport of winds. She felt as if Wallace had eluded her power, for it was by the ambition-serving acts of her kinsmen that she had meant to bind him to her love, and now all was rejected, and she wept in despair. He gazed at her with amazement. What these emotions and his elevation had to do with each other he could not guess, but recollecting her manner of mentioning Lord Buchenne's name, he answered, Lord Buchenne I have just seen, he and Lord March came upon the carce at the time I went thither to meet my gallant countrymen, and these two noblemen, though so lately the friends of Edward, united with the rest in proclaiming me regent. This word dried the tears of Lady Mar. She saw the shadow of royalty behind it, and summoning artifice to conceal the joy of her heart, she calmly said, Do not too severely condemn this weakness. It is not that of vain wishes for your aggrandisement. You are the same to Joanna Maher, whether as a monarch or a private man, so long as you possess that supremacy and all excellence which first gained her esteem. It is for Scotland's sake alone that I wish you to be her king. You have taught me 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, all my love. With the last word her bosom heaved tumultuously, and she rose in agitation. Wallace now gazed on her with redoubled wonder. She saw it, and hearing a foot in the passage turned, and grasping his hand said in a soft and hurried tone, Forgive that which is entwined with my heart should cost me some pangs to rest thence again. Only respect me, and I am comforted. Wallace in silence pressed her hand, and the door opened. Lady Ruth Venn entered, the Countess whose present aim was to throw the virtue of Wallace off its guard, and to take that by sap which she found resisted open attack, with a penitential air disappeared by another passage. Edwin's gentle mother was followed by the same youth who had brought Helen's packet to Burwick. It was Walter Hay, anxious to be recognized by his benefactor, to whom his recovered health had rendered his person strange. Wallace received him with kindness, and told him to bear his grateful respects to his lady for her care of her charge. Lord Ruth Venn with others soon entered, and at the appointed hour they attended their chief to the citadel. The council hall was already filled with the lords who had brought their clans to the Scottish standard. On the entrance of Wallace they rose, and Maher, coming forward, followed by the heralds and other officers of ceremony, saluted him with the due forms of regent, and led him to the throne. Wallace ascended, but it was only to take thence a packet which had been deposited for him on its cushion, and coming down again he laid the parchment on the council table. I can do all things best, said he, when I am upon a level with my friends. He then broke the seal of the packet. It was from the Prince of Wales, agreeing to Wallace's proposed exchange of prisoners, but denouncing him as the instigator of the rebellion, and threatening him with a future judgment from his incensed king for the mischief he had wrought in the realm of Scotland. The letter was finished with the demand that the town and citadel of Berwick should be surrendered to England as a gauge for the quiet of the borders till Edward should return. Kirk Patrick scoffed at the audacious menace of the young Prince. He should come amongst us like a man, cried he, and we would soon show him who it is that works mischief in Scotland. I, even on his back, we would write the chastisement due to the offender. Be not angry with him, my friend, returned Wallace. These threats are words, of course, from the son of Edward. Did he not fear both our rights and our arms, he would not so readily accord with our propositions. You see, every Scottish prisoner is to be on the borders by a certain day, and to satisfy that impatient valor, which I, your friend, would never check, but when it loses itself in a furor to nearly resembling that of our enemies, I intend to make your prowess once again the theme of their discourse. You will retake your castles in Annandale. Give me but the means to recover those stout gates of our country, cried Kirk Patrick, and I will warrant you to keep the keys in my hand till doomsday. Wallace resumed, three thousand men are at your command. When the prisoners pass each other on the cheviots, the armistice will terminate. You may then fall back upon Annandale, and that night let your own fires in Tortherald. Send the expelled garrison into Northumberland, and show this haughty prince that we know how to replenish his depopulated towns. But first I will set my mark on them, cried Kirk Patrick, with one of those laughs which ever pre-looted some savage proposal. I can guess it would be no gentle one, returned Wallace. Why, brave knight, will you ever sully the fair field of your fame with an unsanguine tide? It is the fashion of the times, replied Kirk Patrick roughly. You only, my victorious general, who perhaps had most cause to go with the stream, have chosen a path of your own. But look around.  And shall we talk of gentle methods with the perpetrators of these horrors? Sir William Wallace, you would make women of us. Shame, shame, Kirk Patrick resounded from every voice. You insult the regent. Kirk Patrick stood, proudly frowning, with his left hand on the hilt of his sword. Wallace, by emotion, hushed the tumult and spoke. No true chief of Scotland can offer me greater respect than frankly to trust me with his sentiments. Though we disagree in some points, cried Kirk Patrick, I am ready to die for him at any time, for I believe a trustier Scott treads not the earth, but I repeat, why by this mincing mercy seek to turn our soldiers into women. I seek to make them men, replied Wallace, to be aware that they fight with fellow creatures with whom they may one day be friends, and not like the furious savages of old Scandinavia drink the blood of eternal enmity. I would neither have my chieftain set examples of cruelty nor degrade themselves by imitating the barbarities of our enemies. That Scotland bleeds every pore is true, but let peace be our aim, and we shall heal all her wounds. Then I am not to cut off the ears of the free-booters in Anondale, cried Kirk Patrick, with a good, humorous smile. Have it, as you will, my general, only you must new christen me to wash the war-stain from my hand. 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 the point of his sword. You have not shamed your nurse, cried Murray. Nor will I, answered Kirk Patrick, while the arm that slew Cresingham remains unwithered. While he spoke, Kerr entered to ask permission to introduce a messenger from Earl de Warren. Wallace gave consent. It was Sir Hugh Lydd Spencer, a near kinsman of the Earl of Hereford, the tumultory constable of England. He was the envoy who had brought the Prince of Wales's dispatches to Stirling. While this 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 Sutheran Knight, from the Lord Warden of Scotland, who, like my Prince, too greatly condescends to do otherwise than command, where he now treats. I come to the leader of this rebellion, William Wallace, to receive an answer to the terms granted by the clemency of my master, the son of his leech-lord, to this misled kingdom. Sir Knight, replied Sir William Wallace, when the Sutheran lords delegate a messenger to me, who knows how to respect the representative of the nation to which he is sent, and the agents of his own country, I shall give them my reply. You may withdraw. The Sutheran stood, resolute to remain where he was.  I am the nephew of the Lord High Constable of England. It is a pity, cried Murray, looking coolly up from the table, that he is not here to take his kinsmen into custody. The dispenser fiercely half drew his sword. Sir, this insult must be put up with, cried Wallace, interrupting him and motioning Edwin to lay his hand on the sword. You have insulted the nation to which you were sent on a peaceful errand, and having thus invited the resentment of every chief peer present, you cannot justly complain against their indignation. But in consideration of your youth and probable ignorance of what becomes the character of an ambassador, I grant you the protection your behavior has forfeited. Sir Alexander Scrimgeor said he, turning to him, you will guard Sir Hugh the dispenser to the Earl de Warren, and tell that nobleman I am ready to answer any proper messenger. The young Sutheran, frowning, followed Scrimgeor from the hall and Wallace turning to Murray. My friend said he, it is not well to stimulate insolence by repartee. This young man's speech, though in insults of the nation, was directed at me, and by me only it ought to have been answered, and that seriously. The haughty spirit of this man should have been quelled, not incensed, and had you produced one word further you would have given him an apparently just cause of complaint against you, and of that, my friend, I am sensibly jealous. It is not 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 fiery mischief. But pardon me now, and I promise to reign them close when next I see this prancing night. Bravo, my lord Andrew, cried Kirkpatrick in an affected whisper. I am not always to be bird alone under the whip of our regent. You have had 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 the higher end of the hall. In half an hour Scrimgeau returned, and with him Barron Hilton. He brought an apology from Doarene, for the behavior of his ambassador, and added his persuasions to the demands of England that the regent would surrender Burwick not only as a pledge for the Scots keeping the truce on the borders, but as a proof of his confidence in Prince Edward. Wallace answered that he had no reason to show extraordinary confidence in one who manifested by such a requisition that he had no faith in Scotland, and therefore neither as a proof of confidence nor as a gauge of her word should Scotland a victorious power surrender the eastern door of her kingdom in the vanquished. Wallace declared himself ready to dismiss the English prisoners to the frontiers, and to maintain the armistice till they had reached the south side of the Cheviots. But, added he, my word must be my bond, for by the honour of Scotland I will give no other. Then answered Barron Hilton with an honest flush passing over his cheek as if ashamed of what he had next to say, I am constrained to lay before you the last instructions of the Prince of Wales to Earl de Warren. He took a royally sealed roll of vellum from his breast and read aloud. Thus saith Edward, Prince of Wales, to Earl de Warren, Lord Warden of Scotland, if that arch-rebel William Wallace who now assumeeth to himself the rule of all our royal father's hereditary dominions north of the Cheviots, refuseeth to give unto us the whole possession of the town and citadel of Burwick upon Tweed as a pledge of his faith to keep the armistice on the borders from sea to sea, we command you to tell him that we shall detain under the ward of our good lieutenant of the tower in London the person of William the Lord Douglas as a close captive until our prisoners now in Scotland arrive safely at Newcastle upon Tyne. This mark of supremacy over a rebellious people we owe as a pledge of their homage to our royal father and as a tribute of our gratitude to him for having allowed us to treat at all with so undue to full 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 light conduct. The exchange of prisoners shall 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 before the Earl de Warren leaves this citadel, and it shall be on the day assigned, please the almighty Lord of Justice, the southern usurpers of all our castles on the eastern shore, shall be our hostages for the safety of Lord Douglas. And this is my answer, noble Wallace? It is, and you see no more of me telling that which I have said is done. Baron Hilton withdrew, and Wallace, turning to his peers, rapidly made dispositions for a sweeping march from frith to frith, and having sent those who were to accompany him to prepare for departure next day at dawn, he retired with the Lord's mar and bothwell to arrange affairs relative to the prisoners. CHAPTER XIV. THE GOVERNOR'S APARTMENTS. The sun rose on Wallace and his brave legions as they traversed the once-romantic glades of Strathmore, but now the scene was changed. The villages were abandoned, and the land lay around in uncultivated waste. Sheep, without a shepherd, fled wild from the approach of man, and wolves issued howling from the coasters of depopulated monasteries. The army approached Dunblane, but it was without inhabitant. Grass grew in the streets, and the birch which roosted in the desert dwellings flew scared from the windows as the trumpet of Wallace sounded through the town. Loud echoes repeated the summons from its hollow walls, but no other voice was heard, no human face appeared, for the ravining hand of Cresingham had been there. Wallace sighed as he looked around him. Rather, smile, cried Graham, that heaven hath given you the power to save to the tyrants who have done this, here shall your proud waves be stayed. They proceeded over many a hill and plain, and found that the same withering touch of desolation had burned up and overwhelmed the country. Wallace saw that his troops were faint for want of food. Cheering them, he promised that Ormsby should provide them a feast in Perth, and with reawakened spirits they took the river Tay at its fords, and were soon before the walls of that well-arm city. But it was governed by a coward, and Ormsby fled to Dundee at the first sight of the Scottish army. His flight might have warranted the garrison to surrender without a blow, but a braver man being his lieutenant sharp was the conflict before Wallace could compel that officer to abandon the 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 through that part of the country, driving the southern garrisons out of Skone and all the embattled towns, expelling them from the castles of Kincain, Elco, Kinfons, and Dune, and then proceeding to the marine fortresses, those avenues by which the ships of England had poured its legions on the eastern coast. He compelled Dundee, Goupar, Climes, Montrose, and Aberdeen all to acknowledge the power of his arms. He seized most of the English ships in those ports, and manning them with Scots soon cleared the seas of the vessels which had escaped, taking some and putting others to flight, and one of the latter was the fugitive Ormsby. This enterprise achieved, Wallace with the host of prisoners turned his steps toward the fourth, but ere he left the banks of the Tee 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 Gowery to Remotus Sutherland, and in all that tract reduced every town and castle which had admitted a southern garrison. Wallace took leave of Lord Ruthven at Hunting Tower, and that were the noblemen when he assumed, with the government of Perth, this extensive command, said as he grasped the regent's command, I say not, bravest of Scots, what is my gratitude for thus making me an arm of my country, but deeds will show. He then bade a father's adieu to his son, counselling him to regard Wallace as the light in his path, and embracing him they parted. A rapid march round by Fifeshire, through which victory followed their steps, brought the conqueror and his troops again within sight of the towers of Sterling. It was on the eve of the day on which he had promised Earl de Warren should see the English prisoners depart for the borders. No doubt of his arriving at the appointed time was entertained by the Scots or by the Southerns in the castle. The one knew the sacredness of his word, and the other having felt his prowess would not so far disparage their own as to suppose that any could withstand him by whom they were beaten. de Warren, as he stood on the battlements of the Keep, beheld from afar the long line of Scottish soldiers as they descended to Occhal Hills, when he pointed it out to de Valance, that nobleman who, in proportion as he wished to check the arms of Wallace, had flattered himself that it might happen, against the evidence of his eyesight contradicted the observation of the veteran Earl.  It is only the sunbeams playing on the cliffs. Then those cliffs are moving ones cried de Warren, which I fear have ground our countrymen on the coast to powder. We shall find Wallace here by sunset to show us how he has resented the affront our ill-advised prince cast on his jealous honour. His honour of return de Valance is like that of his countrymen's, an enemy alike to his own interest and to that of others, had it allowed him to accept the crown of Scotland, and so have fought Edward with the concentrating arm of a king, or would he even now offer peace to our sovereign, granting his prerogative as liege lord of the country. All might go well, but as the honour you speak of prevents his using these means of ending the contest, destruction must close his career. And what quarrel demanded de Warren, can you, my lord de Valance, have against this nice honour of Sir William Wallace, since you allow it secures the final success of our cause? His honour and himself are hateful to me, impatiently answered de Valance. He crosses me in my wishes, public and private, and for the sake of my king and myself I might always be tempted. He turned pale as he spoke, and met the penetrating glance of de Warren. He paused. To what, asked de Warren? To a brutish mode of ridding the state of an enemy. That might be noble in a Roman citizen, returned de Warren, which would be villainous in an English lord, treated as you have been by a generous victor, not the usurper of any country's liberties, but rather a brutish in defence of his own. Which man of us all, from the general to the meanest follower in our camps, has he injured? Lord Amor frowned, did he not expose me, threaten me with an ignominious death on the walls of Stirling? But was it before he saw the Earl of Marr, with his hapless family brought, with halters on their necks, to be suspended from this very tower? Ah, what a tale has the lovely Countess told me of that direful scene. What he then did was to check the Sanguinary Cresingham from and brooding his hands in the blood of female and infant innocents. I care not, cried de Valance, what are or are not the offenses of the domineering walls, but I hate him, and my respect for his advocates cannot but correspond with that feeling. As he spoke, that he might not be further molested by the arguments of de Warne, he abruptly turned away and left the battlements. Pride would not allow the enraged Earl to confess his private reasons for this vehement enmity against the Scottish Chief. A conference which he had held the preceding evening with Lord Marr was the cause of this augmented hatred, and, from that moment, the haughty Southrund vowed the destruction of Wallace by open attack or secret treachery. Ambition and the base counterfeit of love, those two master passions in untempered minds, were the springs of this antipathy. The instant in which he knew that the young creature whom at a distance he discerned clinging around the Earl of Marr's neck and the streets of Stirling was the same Lady Helen on whose account Lord Solis had poured on him such undeserved invectives in Bothwell Castle. Curious to have a nearer view of one whose transcendent beauty he had often heard celebrated by others, he ordered her to be immediately conveyed to his apartments in the Citadel. On their first interview he was more struck by her personal charms than he had ever been with any women's, although few were so noted for gallantry in the English court as himself. He could hardly understand the nature of his feelings while discoursing with her. To all others of her sex he had declared his enamored wishes with as much ease as vivacity, but when he looked on Helen the admiration her loveliness inspired was checked by an indescribable awe. No word of passion escaped his lips. He sought to win her by a deportment consonant with her own dignity of manner, and obeyed all her wishes, accepting when they pointed to any communication with her parents. He feared the wary eyes of the Earl of Marr. But nothing of this reverence of Helen was grounded on any principle within the heart of DeFalence. His idea of virtue was so erroneous that he believed, by the short assumption of its semblance, he might so steal on the confidence of his victim as to induce her to forget all the world, nay, heaven itself, in his sophistry and blandishments. To facilitate this end he at first designed to precipitate the condemnation of the Earl, that he might be rid of a father's existence, holding in dread of his censure the perhaps otherwise yielding heart of his lovely intended mistress. The unprincipled and impure can have no idea what virtue or delicacy are other than vestments of disguise or of ornament, to be thrown off at will, and therefore to reason with such minds is to talk to the winds, to tell a man who is born blind to decide between two colors. In short, a libertine heart is the same in all ages of the world. DeFalence, therefore, seeing the anguish of her fears for her father, and hearing the fervor with which she implored for his life, adopted the plan of granting the Earl reprieves from day to day, and in spite of the remonstrances of Cresingham he intended, after having worked upon the terrors of Helen, to grant to her her father's release, on condition of her yielding herself to be his. He had even meditated that the accomplishment of this device should have taken place the very night in which Wallace's first appearance before Sterling had called its garrison to arms. Impelled by vengeance against the man who had driven him from dumb Barton and from air, and irritated at being delayed in the moment when his passion must seize its object, DeFalence thought to end all by a cooped domain, and rushing out of the gates was taken prisoner. Such was the situation of things when Wallace first became master of the place. Now when the whole of the English army were in the same captivity with himself, when he saw the lately prescribed Lord Mark, Governor of Sterling, and that the Scottish cause seemed triumphant on every side, DeFalence changed his former illicit views on Helen, and bethought him of making her his wife. Ambition as well as love impelled him to this resolution, and he foresaw that the vast influence which is marriage with the daughter of Mark must give him in the country would be a decisive argument with the King of England. To this purpose not doubting the Scottish Earl's acceptance of such a son-in-law, on the very day that Wallace marched toward the coast, DeFalence sent to request an hour's private audience of Lord Mark. He could not then grant it, but at noon, next day, they met in the Governor's apartments. The Southeren, without much preface, opened his wishes and proffered his hand for the Lady Helen. I'll make her the proudest lady in Great Britain, continued he, for she shall have a court in my Welsh province little inferior to that of Edward's Queen. Pomp would have no sway with my daughter, replied the Earl. It is the princely mind she values, not its pageantry, whomesoever she prefers the 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 pledge of happiness. I shall repeat to her what you have said, and to-morrow deliver her answer. Not deeming it possible that it should be otherwise infavorable, DeFalence allowed his imagination to roam over every anticipated delight. He exalted in the pride with which he would show this perfection of northern beauty to the Fair of England. How would the simple graces of her 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 not only the artless charms of a wood-nymph he would present to the wandering throng, but a being whose majesty of soul proclaimed her high descent and peerless virtues. How did he congratulate himself in contemplating this unsullied temple of virgin innocence that he had never, by even the vapor of one impassioned sigh, contaminated her pure ear or broken the magic spell, which seemed to faded to crown him with happiness unknown, with honor unexampled? To be so blessed, so distinguished, so envied, was to him a dream of triumph, that wafted away all remembrance of his late defeat. And he believed in taking Helen from Scotland he should bear away a richer prize than any he could leave behind. Full of these anticipations, he attended the Governor of Sterling the next day to hear his daughter's answer. But unwilling to give the Earl that advantage over him, which a knowledge of his views in the matter might occasion, he affected a composure he did not feel, and with a lofty air entered the room as if he were come rather to confer than to beg a favor. This deportment did not lessen the satisfaction with which the brave Scott opened his mission. My Lord, I have just seen my daughter. She duly appreciates the honor you would confer on her. She is grateful for all your courtesies whilst she was your prisoner, but beyond that sentiment her heart, attached to her native land, cannot sympathize with your wishes. The evalance started. He did not expect anything in the shape of a denial, but supposing that perhaps a little of his own art was tried by the father to enhance the value of his daughter's yielding, he threw himself into a chair and effecting chagrin at a disappointment which he did not believe was seriously intended, exclaimed with vehemence. Surely, Lord Marr, this is not men as a refusal. I cannot receive it as such, for I know Lady Helen's gentleness. I know the sweet tenderness of her nature would plead for me were she to see me at her feet and hear me pour forth the most ardent passion that ever burned in a human breast. Oh, my gracious Lord, if it be her attachment to Scotland which alone militates against me, I will promise that her time shall be passed between the two countries. Her marriage with me may facilitate that peace with England, which must be the wish of us all. And perhaps the Lord Wardenship, which De Warren now holds, may be transferred 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 claim every distinction from her fond husband, every indulgence for the Scots which your patriotic heart can dictate. This would be a certain benefit to Scotland. While the igneous fascist you are now following, however brilliant may be its career during Edward's absence must, on his return, be extinguished in disaster and infamy. The silence of the Earl of Marr, who, willing to hear all that was in the mind of de Valance, had let him proceed uninterrupted, encouraged the Southeren 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 Earl spoke. I am fully sensible of the honour you would bestow upon my daughter and myself by your alliance, but, as I have said before, her heart is too devoted to Scotland to marry any man whose birth does not make it his duty to prefer the liberty of her native land, even before his love for her. That hope to see our country freed from a yoke unjustly laid upon her, that hope which you, not considering our rights, or weighing the power that lies in a just cause, denominate an igneous fatuous, is the only passion I believe that lives in the gentle bosom of my Helen, and therefore, noble Earl, not even your offers can equal the measure of her wishes. At this speech de Valance bit his lip with real disappointment, and starting from his chair now in unaffected disorder, I am not to be deceived, Lord Marr, cried he. I am not to be cajoled by the pretended patriotism of your daughter. I know the sex too well to be cheated with these excuses. The igneous fatuous that leads your daughter from my arms is not the freedom of Scotland, but the handsome rebel who conquers in its name. He is now Fortune's minion, but he will fall, Lord Marr, and then what will be the fate of his mad adherents. Earl de Valance replied the veteran, sixty winters have checked the tithes of passion in my veins, but the indignation of my soul against any insult offered to my daughter's delicacy, or to the name of the Lord Regent of Scotland, is not less powerful in my breast. You are my prisoner, and I pardon what I could so easily avenge. I will even answer you, and say that I do not know of any exclusive affection subsisting between my daughter and Sir William Wallace, but this I am assured of, that were it the case she would be more ennobled in being the wife of so true a patriot and so virtuous a man, than were she advanced to the bosom of an emperor, and for myself, were he to-morrow curled by a mysterious providence from his present nobly one elevation, I should glory in my son were he such, and would think him as great on a scaffold as on a throne. It is well that is your opinion, replied de Valance, stopping in his wrathful strides, and turning on Marr with vengeful irony. Cherish these heroics, for you will assuredly see him so exalted. Then where will be his triumph over Edward's arms in Pembroke's heart? Wear your daughter's patriot husband, your glorious son. Start not, old man, for by all the powers of hell I swear that some eyes which now look proudly on the southern host shall close in blood. I announce a fact. If you do, replied Marr, shattering at the demonic fire that lightened from the countenance of de Valance, it must be by the agency of devils, and their minister, vindictive Earl, will meet the vengeance of the eternal arm. These dreams, cried de Valance, cannot terrify me.  But were you wise enough to embrace the advantage I offer, you might be a prophet of good, greater than he of Ursul down to your nation, for all that you could promise I would take care should be fulfilled. But you cast from you your peace and safety. My vengeance shall therefore take its course. I rely not on oracles of heaven or hell, but I have pronounced the 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 your boast. He left the room as he spoke, and Lord Marr, shaking his venerable head as he disappeared, said to himself, competent rage of passion and of youth I forgive you. It was not therefore so extraordinary that de Valance, when he saw Wallace descending the occult hills with the flying banners of new victories, should break into curses of his fortune and swear inwardly the most determined revenge. Fuel was added to this fire at sunset, when the almost measureless defiles of prisoners marshaled before the ramparts of Sterling and taking the usual oath to Wallace met his view. While we quit these dishonoring walls cried he to himself, but ere I leave them, if there be power in gold or strength in my arm he shall die. CHAPTER 41 THE STATE PRISON The regents re-entrance into the citadel of Sterling, being on the evening preceding the day he had promised, should see the English lords depart for their country, de Warren, as a mark of respect to a man whom he could not but regard with admiration, went to the Barbican gate to bid him welcome. Wallace appeared, and as the calvocate of noble sovereigns who had lately commanded beyond the Tate, followed him, Murray glanced his eye around and said with a smile to de Warren, you see, sir Earl, how we scots keep our word. And then he added, you leave Sterling to-morrow, but these remain till Lord Douglas opens their prison doors. I cannot but acquiesce in the justice of your commander's determination, returned de Warren, and to comfort these gentlemen under their captivity I can only tell them that if anything can reconcile them to the loss of liberty it is being the prisoners of Sir William Wallace. After having transferred his captives to the charge of Lord Marr, Wallace went alone to the chamber of Montgomery to see whether the state of his wounds would allow him to march on the morrow. While he was yet there an invitation arrived from the Countess of Marr, requesting his presence at an entertainment which, by her husband's consent, she meant to give that night at Snodun to the Sothran lords before their departure for England. I fear you dare not expend your strength on this party, inquired Wallace, turning to Montgomery. I may not, returned he, but I shall see you amidst your noble friends at some future period. When the peace your arms must win is established between the two nations, I shall then revisit Scotland and openly declare my friendship for Sir William Wallace. As these are your sentiments, replied Wallace, I shall hope that you will unite your influence with that of the brave Earl of Gloucester to persuade your king to stop this bloodshed, for it is no vain boast to declare that he may bury Scotland beneath her slaughtered sons, but they never will again consent to acknowledge any right in a usurper. Sanguinary have been the instruments of my sovereign's rule in Scotland, replied Montgomery, but such cruelty is foreign to his gallant heart, and without offending that high-sold patriotism, which would make me revere its possessor, were he the lowliest man in your legions, allow me, noblest of Scots, to plead one word in vindication of him to whom my allegiance is pledged. Had he come hither, conducted by war alone, what would Edward have been worse than any other conqueror? But on the reverse was not his right to the supremacy of Scotland acknowledged by the princes who contended for the crown. And besides, did not all the great lords swear fealty to England on the day he nominated their king? Had you not been under these impressions, brave Montgomery, I believe I never should have seen you in arms against Scotland, but I will remove them by a simple answer. All the princes whom you speak of, accepting Bruce of Anondale, did assent to the newly offered claim of Edward on Scotland, but who, amongst them, had any probable chance for the throne but Bruce or Belial? Such ready acquiescence was meant to create them one. Bruce, conscious of his inherent rights, rejected the iniquitous demand of Edward, Belial accorded with it, and was made king. All our chiefs who were base enough to worship the rising son, and I may say, condemn the god of truth, swore to the falsehood. Others remained gloomily silent, and the bravest of them retired to the highlands, where they dwell amongst their mountains, till the cries of Scotland called them again to fight her battles. Thus did Edward establish himself as a leech lord of this kingdom, and whether the oppression which followed were his or his agents' immediate acts it matters not, for he made them his own by his after-conduct. When remonstrances were sent to London, he neither punished nor reprimanded the delinquents, but marched an arm force into our country to compel us to be trampled on. It was not an Alexander nor Charlemagne coming in his strength to subdue ancient enemies or to aggrandize his name by vanquishing nations far remote, with whom he could have no affinity. Terrible as such ambition was it his innocence to what Edward has done. He came, in the first instance, to Scotland as a friend. The nation committed its dearest interest to his virtue. They put their hands into his, and he bound them in shackles. Honor? Was this a rite of conquest? The cheek of Alexander would have blushed deep as his teary-in-robe, and the face of Charlemagne turned pale as the lilies at the bare suspicion of being capable of such a deed. No, Lord Montgomery, it is not our conqueror we are opposing. It is a traitor, who, under the mask of friendship, has attempted to usurp our rights, destroy our liberties, and make a desert of our once happy country. This is the true statement of the case, and though I wish not to make a subject outrage his sovereign, yet truth demands of you to say to Edward that to withdraw his pretensions from this exhausted country 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 persists, which the ambassadors from the Prince of Wales announce, even as Samson drew the temple upon himself to destroy his enemies, Scotland will discharge itself upon the valleys of England, and there compel them to share the fate in which we may be doomed to perish. I will think of this discourse, return Montgomery, when I am far distant, and rely on it, noble Wallace, that I will assert the privilege of my birth, and counsel my king as becomes an honest man. Highly would he estimate such counsel, cried Wallace, had he virtue to feel that he who will be just to his sovereign's enemies must be of an honour that will bind him with double fidelity to his king. Such proof give your sovereign, and if he have one spark of that greatness of mine, which you say he possesses, though he may not adopt your advice, he must respect the advisor. As Wallace pressed the hand of his new friend to leave him to repose, a messenger entered from Lord Marr to request the regent's presence in his closet. He found him with Lord D'Warren. The latter presented him with another dispatch from the Prince of Wales. It was to say that news had reached him of Wallace's design to attack the castles garrisoned by England on the eastern coast. But this information proved true, he, the Prince, declared that, as a punishment for such increasing audacity, he would put Lord Douglas into closer confinement, and while the Sutheran fleets would inevitably baffle Wallace's attempts, the moment the exchange of prisoners was completed on the borders, an army from England should enter Scotland and ravage it with fire and sword. When Wallace had heard this dispatch, he smiled and said, The deed is done, my Lord D'Warren. Both the castles and the fleets are taken. In what punishment must we now expect from this terrible threatener? Little from him, or his headlong councillors, replied D'Warren, but Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, the king's nephew, has come from abroad with a numerous army. He is to conduct the Scottish prisoners to the borders, and then to fall upon Scotland with all his strength, unless you previously surrender, not only Burwick but Stirling and the whole of the district between the Forth and the Tweed, into his hands. My Lord D'Warren, replied Wallace, you can expect but one return to these absurd demands. I shall accompany you myself to the Scottish borders, and there make my reply. D'Warren, who did indeed look for this answer, replied, I anticipated that such would be your determination, and I have to regret that the wild councils which surround my prince precipitate him into conduct which must draw much blood on both sides before his royal father's presence can regain what he has lost. Ah, my Lord replied Wallace, is it to be nothing but war? Have you now a stronghold of any force in all the Highlands? Is not the greater part of the Lowlands free? And before this day-month, not a root of land in Scotland is likely to hold a Sutherland soldier. We conquer, but is for our own. Why, then, this unreceding determination to invade us? Not a blade of grass would I disturb on the other side of the Chevyet if we might have peace. Let Edward yield to that, and though he has pierced us with many wounds we will yet forgive him. They warren shook his head. I know my king too well to expect pacific measures. He may die with the sword in his hand, but he will never grant 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 his murderer, what must be the vials of wrath which are reserved for thee?  The strict notion of right said he is very well in declamation, but how would it crop the wings of conquerors and shorten the warrior's arm did they measure by this rule? How would it indeed, replied Wallace, and that they should is most valiantly to be wished? All warfare that is not defensive is criminal, and he who draws his sword to a press, or merely to a grand-eyes, is a murderer and a robber. This is the plain truth, Lord DeWarn. I have never considered it in that light, return the earl, nor shall I turn philosopher now. I revere your principle, Sir William Wallace, but it is too sublime to be mine. Nay, nor would it be politic for one who holds his possessions in England by the right of conquest to question the virtue of the deed. By the sword my ancestors gained their estates, and with the sword I have no objection to extend my territories. Wallace now saw that DeWarn, though a man of honor, was not one of virtue. Though his amiable nature made him gracious in the midst of hostility, and his good dispositions would not allow him to act disgraceful in any concern, yet duty to God seemed a poet's flight to him. Educated in the forms of religion, without knowing its spirit, he despised them, and believing the deity too wise to be affected by mere virtuous 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 actions of men, hence being without the true principles of good virtue as virtue was nonsense to Earl DeWarn. Wallace did not answer his remark, and the conference soon closed. End of Chapter 41 Chapter 42 of the Scottish Chiefs This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Burning by Joy Easton The Scottish Chiefs by Miss Jane Porter Chapter 42 Chapel in Snodun Though burning was stifled passions Earl DeValence accepted the invitation of Lady Marr, he hoped to see Helen to gain her ear for a few minutes, and above all to find some opportunity during the entertainment of taking his meditated revenge on Wallace. The dagger seemed the surest way, for could he render the blow effectual he should not only destroy the rival of his wishes but, by ridding his monarch 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 DeWarn to the palace. The hall for the feast was arrayed with feudal grandeur. The seats at the table spread for the nights of both countries were covered with highly wrought stuffs, while the emblazoned banners and other armorial trophies of the nobles being hung aloft according to the degree of the owner each night saw his precedents and where to take his place. The most costly means, with the royally attired peacocks served up in silver and gold dishes, and wine of the rarest quality sparkled on the board. During the repasse two choice minstrels were seated in the gallery above to sing the friendship of King Alfred of England with Gregory the Great of Caledonia. The squires and other military attendants of the nobles present were placed at tables in the lower part of the hall and served with courteous hospitality. Resentful alike at his captivity and thwarted passion the valence had hitherto refused to show himself beyond the ramparts of the citadel. He was therefore surprised on entering the hall of Snodun with DeWarn to see such regal pomp, and at the command of the woman who had so lately been his prisoner at Dumbarton, and whom, because she resembled an English lady who had rejected him, he had treated with the most rigorous contempt. Forgetting these indignities and the pride of displaying her present consequence, Lady Marr came forward to receive her illustrious guests. Her dress corresponded with the magnificence of the banquet, a robe of cloth of bodkins enriched while it displayed the beauties of her person, her wimple blazed with jewels, and a superb carkinet emitted its various rays from her bosom. Cloth of bodkins was one of the richest stuffs worn in the thirteenth century. It is said to have been composed of silk interwoven with gold. The carkinet was a large broad necklace of precious stones of all colors, sat in various shapes, and fastened by gold links into each other. End Footnote DeWarn followed her with his eyes as she moved from him. With an unconscious sigh he whispered to the valence, What a land is this for all the women are fair and the men all brave. I wish that it and all its men and women were in perdition. Returned to valence in a fierce tone. Lady Ruthven, entering with the wives and daughters of the neighboring chieftains, checked the further expression of his wrath, and his eyes sought amongst them but in vain for Helen. The chieftains of the Scottish army with the Lord's buccane and march were assembled around the Countess at the moment a shout from the populace without announced the arrival of the regent. His noble figure was now disencumbered of armour, and with no more sumptuous garb than the simple plaid of his country he appeared effulgent in manly beauty and the glory of his recent deeds. The valence frowned heavily as he looked on him, and thanked his fortunate stars that Helen was absent from sharing the admiration which seemed to animate every breast. The eyes of Lady Mart once told the impassioned valence, too well read in the like expressions, what were her sentiments toward the young regent, and the blushes and eager civilities of the ladies around displayed how much they were struck with the now fully discerned and unequaled graces of his person. Lady Mart forgot all in him, and indeed so much did he seem the idol of every heart that, from the two venerable lords of Locke-All and Bothwell to the youngest man in company, all ears hung on his words, all eyes upon his countenance. The entertainment was conducted with every regard to that chivalry courtesy which a noble conqueror always pays to the vanquished. Indeed from the wit and pleasantry which passed from the opposite sides of the tables, and in which the ever-gay Murray was the leader, it rather appeared a convivial meeting of friends in an assemblage of mortal foes. During the banquet the barred sang legends of the Scottish worthies who had brought honour to their nation in days of old, and as the board was clear they struck at once into a full chorus. Wallace caught the sound of his own name, a company with epithets of extravagant praise. He rose hastily from his chair, and with his hand motioned them to cease. They obeyed, but Lady Marre, remonstrating with him, he smilingly said it was an ill omen to sing a warrior's actions till he were incapable of performing more, and therefore he begged she would excuse him from hearkening to his. Then let us change their strains to a dance, replied the Countess. A haul, a haul, cried Murray, springing from his seat, delighted with the proposal. I have no objection, answered Wallace, and putting the hand she presented to him, into that of Lord DeWorn, he added, I am not of the sufficiently gay temperament to grace the change, but this earl may not have the same reason for declining so fair a challenge. Lady Marre coloured with mortification, for she had thought that Wallace would not venture to refuse before so many, but following the impulse of DeWorn's arm she proceeded to the under-end of the haul, where, by Murray's quick arrangement, the younger lords of both countries had already singled out ladies and were marshaled for the dance. As the hours moved on the spirits of Wallace subsided from their usual cheering tone into a sadness which he thought might be noticed and wishing to escape observation, for he could not explain to those gay ones why scenes like these ever made him sorrowful, and whispering to Marre that he would go for an hour to visit Montgomery he withdrew, unnoticed by all but his watchful enemy. Day Valance, who hovered about his steps, had heard him inquire of Lady Ruthven why Helen was not present. He was within hearing of this whisper also, and with a satanic joy the dagger shook in his hand. He knew that Wallace had many a solitary place to pass between Snodoon and the Citadel, and the company being too pleasantly absorbed to Marre who entered or disappeared he took an opportunity and stole out after him. But for once the impetuous fury of hatred met a temporary disappointment. While DeValance was cowering like a thief under the eaves of the houses and prowling along the lonely past of the Citadel, while he started at every noise as if it came to apprehend him for his meditated deed, or rushed forward at the sight of any solitary passenger whom his eager vengeance almost mistook for Wallace, 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 the palace, unobserved, he immediately struck into it, for he was aware that should he go the usual way the crowd at the gate would recognize him and he could not escape their acclamations. He followed the passage for a considerable time, and at last was stopped by a door. It yielded to his hand, and he found himself at the entrance of a large building. He advanced and passing a high screen of carved oak by a dim light which gleamed from wax and tapers on the altar he perceived it to be a chapel. A happy transition said he to himself from the jubilant scene I have now left, from the grievous scenes I have lately shared. Here gracious God thought he may I, unseen by any other eye, pour out my heart to thee. And here, before thy footstool, will I declare thanksgiving for thy mercies, and with my tears washed from my soul the blood I have been compelled to shed. While advancing toward the altar he was startled by a voice proceeding from the quarter whether he was going, and with low and gently breathed fervor uttering these words, defend him, Heavenly Father, defend him day and night from the devices of this wicked man, and above all, during these hours of revelry and confidence, guard his unshielded breast from treachery and death. The voice faltered and added with greater agitation, ah, unhappy me, that I should pluck peril on the head of William Wallace, a figure which had been hidden by the rails of the altar, with these words rose and stretching forth her clashed hands exclaimed, but thou, who knowest I had no blame in this, will not afflict me by his danger, that will deliver him, O God, out of the hand of this cruel foe. Wallace was not more astonished at hearing that someone in whom he trusted was his secret enemy than at seeing Lady Helen in that place at that hour and addressing heaven for him. There was something so celestial in the maid as she stood in her white robes, true emblems of her own innocence, before the divine footstooled that, although her prayers were delivered with the pathos which told they sprung from a heart more than commonly interested in their object, yet every word and look breathed so eloquently the virgin purity of her soul, the hallowed purpose of her petitions, that Wallace, drawn by the sympathy with which kindred virtues ever attract spirit to spirit, did not hesitate to discover himself. She stepped from the shadow which involved him. The pale light of the tapers shone upon his advancing figure.  She was transfixed and silent. He moved forward. Lady Helen said he in a respectful and even tender voice. At the sound a fearful rushing of shame seemed to overwhelm her faculties, for she knew not how long he might have been in the church and that he had not heard her beseach heaven to make him less the object of her thoughts.  The action, the confusion, might have betrayed her secret to Wallace. But he only thought of her pious invocations for his safety. He only remembered that it was she who had given a holy grave to the only woman he could ever love, and, full of gratitude, as a pilgrim would approach a saint he drew near to her. Most of earthly maids said he, kneeling down beside her. In this lonely hour in the sacred presence of almighty purity received my souls thanks for the prayers I have this moment heard you breathe for me. They are more precious to me, Lady Helen, than the generous plaudits of my country. They are greater reward to me than would have been the crown with which Scotland sought to endow me. For do they not give me what all the world cannot? The protection of heaven? I would pray for it, softly answered Helen, but not venturing to look up. The prayer of meek goodness we know availeth much. Continue then to offer up that incense for me, added he, and I shall march forth to-morrow with redoubled strength, for I shall think holy maid that I have yet a Marian to pray for me on earth, as well as one in heaven. Lady Helen's heart beat at these words, but it was with no unhallowed emotion. She withdrew her hands from her face and, clasping them, looked up. Marian will indeed echo all my prayers, and he who reads my heart will I trust grant them. They are for your life, Sir William Wallace, added she, turning to him with agitation, for it is menaced. I will inquire by whom, answered he, when I have first paid my duty at this altar for guarding it so long. And dare I, daughter of goodness, to ask you to unite the voice of your gentle spirit with the secret one of mine? I would beseech heaven for pardon on my own transgressions. I would ask of its mercy to establish liberty of Scotland. Pray with me, Lady Helen, and the invocations our souls utter will meet the promise of him who said, Where two or three are joined together in prayer, there am I in the midst of them. Helen looked on him with the holy smile, and, pressing the crucifix which she held to her lips, bowed her head on it in mute scent. Wallace threw himself prostrate on the steps of the altar, and the fervor of his sighs alone breathed to his companion the deep devotion of his soul. How the time passed he knew not, so was he absorbed in the communion which his spirit held in heaven with the most gracious of beings. But the bell of the palace striking the matten-hour reminded him he was yet on earth, and looking up his eyes met those of Helen. His devotional rosary hung on his arm, he kissed it. Where this holy maid said he in remembrance of this hour? She bowed her fair neck, and he put the consecrated chain over it. But bear witness to a friendship added he, clasping her hands in his, which will be cemented by eternal ties in heaven.  He felt the sacred tears of so pure a compact upon them. And while he looked up, as if he thought the spirit of his marion hovered near, to bless a communion so remote from all infringement of the sentiment he had dedicated forever to her, Helen raised her head, and, with a terrible shriek, throwing her arms around the body of Wallace, he, that moment, felt an assassin steel in his back, and she fell senseless on his breast. He started on his feet, a dagger fell from his wound to the ground, but the hand which had struck the blow he could nowhere see. To search further was then impossible, for Helen lay on his bosom like dead. Not doubting that she had seen his assailant, and fainted from alarm, he was laying her on the steps of the altar, that he might bring some water from the basin of the chapel to recover her, when he saw that her arm was not only stained with his blood, but streaming with her own. The dagger had gashed it in reaching him. Exarchable villain cried he, turning cold at the sight, and instantly comprehending that it was to defend him. She had thrown her arms around him. He exclaimed in a voice of agony, our two of the most matchless women the earth ever saw to die for me. Trimbling with alarm and with renewed grief, for the terrible scene of Ellersley was now brought in all its horrors before him, he tore off her veil to staunch the blood, but the cut was too wide for his surgery, and, losing every other consideration and fears for her life, he again took her in his arms and bore her out of the chapel. He hastened through the dark passage, and almost flying along the lighted galleries entered the hall. The noisy fright of the servants, as he broke through their ranks at the door, alarmed the revelers, and, turning round, what was their astonishment to behold the regent, pale and streaming with blood, bearing in his arms a lady apparently lifeless and covered with the same dreadful hue. Marr instantly recognized his daughter and rushed toward her with a cry of horror, while a sunk with his breathless load upon the nearest bench, and, while her head rested on his bosom, ordered surgery to be brought. Lady Marr gazed on the spectacle with a benumb dismay. None present durst asked a question till a priest drawing near unwrapped the arm of Helen and discovered its deep wound. "'Who has done this?' cried her father, to Wallace, with all the anguish of a parent in his countenance. "'I know not,' replied he, but I believe some villain who aimed at my life. "'Where is Lord DeValence?' exclaimed Marr, suddenly recollecting his menaces against Wallace. "'I am here,' replied he, in a composed voice. "'Would you have me seek the assassin?' "'No, no,' cried the Earl, ashamed of his suspicion, but here has been some 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 cannot die.' A stifled groan from Wallace, accompanied by a look, told Murray that he had known the death of similar excellence. With this unanswerable appeal the young chieftain dropped his head on the other hand of Helen, and could anyone have seen his face buried as it was in her robes.  The wound was closed by the aid of another surgical priest who had followed the former into the hall, and Helen sighed convulsively. At this intimation of recovery the priest made all, excepting those who supported her, stand back. But as Lady Marr lingered near Wallace she saw the paleness of his countenance turn to a deadly hue, and his eyes closing he sunk back on the bench. Her shrieks now resounded through the hall, and falling into hysterics she was taken into the gallery, while the more collected Lady Ruthven remained to attend the victims before her. At the instant Wallace fell, devalance losing all self-command caught hold of Dewarne's arm and whispering, "'I thought it was sure!' Long lived King Edward, rushed out of the hall. These words revealed to Dewarne who was the assassin and though struck to the soul with the turpitude of the deed. He thought the honour of England would 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-seek clotted with blood, and the regents' back bathed in the same vital stream. Having found his wound the priest laid him on the ground and were administering their balsams when Helen opened her eyes. Her mind was too strongly possessed but the whore which had entered it before she became insensible, to lose the consciousness of her fears. And immediately looking around within a gassed countenance her sight meant the outstretched body of Wallace. "'Oh, is it so?' cried she, throwing herself into the bosom of her father. He understood what she meant.  Have courage! Revive, for his sake and for mine.' "'Helen! Helen! Dear Helen!' cried Murray, clinging to her hand, "'While you live, what that loves you can die!' While these acclamations surrounded her couch, Edwin, in speechless apprehension, supported the insensible head of Wallace, and a warren, inwardly execrating the perfidy of devalance, knelt down to assist the good friars in their office. A few minutes longer and the staunch blood refluxing to the chieftain's heart, he too opened his eyes, and instantly turning on his arm, "'What has happened to me? Where is Lady Helen?' demanded he. At his voice which aroused Helen, who, believing that he was indeed dead, was relapsing into her former state, she could only press her father'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 her rapturous thanks to God, her low murmurs reached the ears of Wallace. The dimness having left his eyes and the blood, the extreme loss of which, from his great agitation, had alone caused him to swoon. Being stopped by an embalmed bandage, he seemed to feel no impediment from his wound, and rising hastened to the side of Helen. Lord Mars softly whispered to his daughter, Sir William Wallace is at your feet, my dearest child. Look on him and tell him that you live. I am well, my father, returned she, in a faltering voice, and may it indeed please the Almighty to preserve him. I too am alive and well, answered Wallace, but thanks to God and to you, blessed lady, that I am so, had not that lovely arm received the greater part of the dagger it must have reached my heart. An exclamation of horror at what might have been burst from the lips of Edwin. Helen could have re-echoed it, but she now held her feelings under too severe a reign to allow them so to speak. Thanks to the protector of the just, cried she, for your preservation, who raised my eyes to see the assassin. His cloak was held before his face, and I could not discern it, but I saw a dagger aimed at the back of Sir William Wallace. How I caught it I cannot tell, for I seemed to die on the instant. Lady Marr having recovered re-entered the hall just as Wallace had knelt down beside Helen. And with the sight of the man on whom her soul doted, in such a position before her rival she advanced hastily, and in a voice which she vainly attempted to render composed and gentle, sternly addressed her daughter-in-law. Alarmed as I have been by your apparent danger, I cannot but be uneasy at the attendant's circumstances. Tell me therefore, and satisfy this anxious company, how it happened that you should be with the regent when we supposed you 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 it was delivered in a tone which insinuated that something more than accident had occasioned their meeting. But as innocence dictated, she answered, I was in the chapel at prayers. Sir William Wallace entered with the same design, and at the moment he desired me to mingle mine with his, this assassin appeared and, she repeated, I saw his dagger raised against our protector, and I saw no more. There was not a heart present that did not give credence to this account, but the polluted one of Lady Mar. Jealousy almost laid it bare. She smiled incredulously and turning to the company. Our noble friends will accept my apology if in so delicate an investigation I should beg that my family alone may be present. Wallace perceived a tendency of her words, and not doubting the impression they might make on the minds of men ignorant of the virtues of Lady Helen he instantly rose. For once, cried he, I must counteract the ladies' orders. It is my wish, lords, that you will not leave this place till I explain how I came to disturb the devotions of Lady Helen. Wearyed with festivities, in which my alienated heart can so little share, I thought to pass an hour with Lord Montgomery in the citadel, and in seeking to avoid the crowded avenues of the palace I entered the chapel. To my surprise I found Lady Helen there. I heard her pray for the happiness of Scotland, for the safety of her defenders, and my mind being in a frame to join in such petitions. I apologized for my unintentional intrusion, and begged permission to mingle my devotions with hers. Nay, impressed and privileged by the sacredness of the place, I presumed still further, and before the altar of purity poured forth my gratitude for the duty she had paid to the remains of my murdered wife. It was at this moment that the assassin appeared. I heard Lady Helen scream. I felt her fall on my breast, and at that instant the dagger entered my back. This is the history of our meeting, and the assassin, whomsoever he may be, and how longsoever he was in the church, before he sought to perpetrate the deed, where he, to speak, and capable of uttering truth, could declare no other. But where is he to be found, intemperately and suspiciously demanded Lady Marr? 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 may have some link with thee. Oh, let me avenge this deed. Tell me his name, and so yield to me all that thou canst now bestow on Andrew Murray. There was something in the tone of Murray's voice that penetrated to the heart of Helen. I cannot name him whom I suspect to any but Sir William Wallace, and I would not do it to him, replied she, were it not to warn him against future danger. I did not see the assassin's face, therefore how dare I set you to take vengeance on one who perchance may be innocent. I forgive him, my blood, since heaven has spared to Scotland its protector. If he be a soothrent, cried Baron Hilton, coming forward, name him Gracious Lady, and I will answer for it, that were he the son of a king he would meet death from our monarch for this unnightly outrage. I thank your zeal, brave chief, replied she, but I would not abandon to certain death even a wicked man. May he repent. I will name him to Sir William Wallace alone, and when he knows his secret enemy, the vigilance of his own honor I trust will be his guard. Meanwhile, my father, I would withdraw. Then whispering to him she was lifted in his arms and Murray's and carried from the hall. As she moved away her eyes met those of Wallace. He arose but she waved her hand to him, with an expression in her countenance of an adieu so firm, yet so tender, that feeling as if he were parting from a beloved sister who had just risked her life for him, and whom he might never see again, he uttered not a word to any that were present, but leaning on Edwin left the hall by an opposite door. CHAPTER 43 Daybreak gleamed over the sky before the wondering spectators of the late extraordinary scene had dispersed to their quarters. Dwaran was so well convinced by what had dropped from devalance of his having been the assassin, that when they met at sunrise to take horse for the borders, he made him no other salutation than an exclamation of surprise, not to find him under an arrest for the last night's work. The wily Scott knew better, replied devalance, than so to expose the reputation of the lady. He knew that she received the wound in his arms, and he durst not seize me, for fear I should proclaim it. He cannot fear that, replied Dwaran, for he has proclaimed it himself.  For infamous I must call it, Lord Amor, and nothing but the respect I owe my country prevents me pointing the eyes of the indignant Scots to you. Nothing but the stigma your exposure would bring upon the English name could make me conceal the dead. This laughed at this speech of Dwaran's. Why, my Lord Warden, said he, have you been taking lessons of this dowdy, Scott, that you talk thus? It was not with such sentiments you overthrew the princes of Wales, and made the kings of Ireland fly before you. You would tell another story where your own interests in question, and I can tell you that any vengeance is not satisfied. I will yet see the brightness of those eyes on which the proud daughter of Marr hangs so fondly, extinguished in death. Made or wife, Helen shall be torn from his arms. And if I cannot make her a virgin bride, she shall at least be mine as his widow, for I swear not to be disappointed. Shame, de Valance! I should blush to owe my courage to rivalry, or my perseverance in the field to a licentious passion. You know what you have confessed to me were once your designs on Helen Marr. Every man, according to his nature, returned de Valance, and shrugging his shoulders he mounted his horse. The cavalcade of Southerns now appeared. They were met on the cars by the regent, who not regarding the smart of a closing wound, advanced at the head of ten thousand men to see his prisoners over the borders. Lord Marr had informed Wallace what had been the threats of de Valance, and that she suspected him to be the assassin. But this suspicion was put beyond a doubt by the evidence of the dagger, which Edwin had found in the chapel. Its hilt was enameled with the martlets of de Valance. At side of it a general indignation filled the Scottish chiefs, and assembling round their regent, with one breath they demanded that the false earl should be detained and punished, as became the honour of nations, for so excruable a breach of all laws, human and divine. Wallace replied that he believed the attack to have been instigated by a personal motive, and therefore, as he was the object, not the state of Scotland, he should merely acquaint the earl that his villainy was known, and let the shame of disgrace be his punishment. Ah! observed Lord Bothwell. Men who trample on conscience soon get over shame. True, replied Wallace, but I suit my actions to my mind, not to my enemies. And if he cannot feel dishonour, I will not so far disparage myself as to think one so base worthy of my resentment. While he was quieting the reawakened indignation of his nobles, whose blood began to boil afresh at the side of the assassin, the southern lords, conducted by Lord Mar, approached. When that nobleman drew near, Wallace's first inquiry was for Lady Helen. The earl informed him he had received intelligence of her having slept without fever, and that she was not awake when the messenger came off with his good tidings. That all was likely to be well with her was comfort to Wallace, and with an unruffled brow, riding up to the squadron of Southerance which was headed by DeWoran and DeValence, he immediately approached the latter, and drawing out the dagger held it toward him. The next time, Sir Earl, said he, that you draw this dagger, let it be with a more nightly aim than assassination. DeValence, surprised, took it in confusion and without answer, but his countenance told the state of his mind. He was humbled by the man he hated, and while a sense of the disgrace he had incurred tore his proud soul, he had not dignity enough to acknowledge the generosity of his enemy, in again giving him a life which his treachery had so often forfeited. Having taken the dagger, he wreaked the exasperated vengeance of his malice upon the senseless steel, and breaking it asunder through the pieces into the air. While turning from Wallace with an affected disdain, he exclaimed to the shivered weapon, You shall not betray me again. Nor you betray our honors, Lord DeValence, exclaimed Earl DeWoran, and therefore, though the nobleness of the William Wallace leaves you at large after this outrage on his person, we will assert our innocence of convivance with the deed, and as Lord Warden of this realm 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 one who has so tarnished the English name. No, cried his brother Barron, venerable Bleckensop, reigning up astide, I would forfeit house and lands first. DeValence, with an ironical smile, looked toward the squadron, which approached to obey DeWoran, and haughtily answered, Though it be dishonored to march with me out of Scotland, the proudest of you all will deem it an honour to be allowed to return with me hither. I have an eye on those who stand with cap and hand to rebellion. And for you, Sir William Wallace, added he, turning to him, who is also curbing his impatient charger, I hold no terms with a rebel, and deem all honour that would rid my sovereign and the earth of such a low-born arrogance. Before Wallace could answer he saw DeValence struck from his horse by the Loch Cabarex of Edwin, indignant at the insult offered to his beloved commander, he had suddenly raised his arm, and aiming a blow with all his strength, the earl was immediately stunned and precipitated to the ground. At the side of the fall of the southern chief, the Scottish troops, aware of their being some misunderstanding between their regent and the English lords, uttered a shout. Wallace, to prevent accidents, sent instantly to the lines, to appease the tumult, and, throwing himself off his horse, hastened to the prostrate earl. A fearful pause reigned throughout the southern ranks. They did not know but that the enraged Scots would now fall upon them, and in spite of their regent, exterminate them on the spot. The troops were running forward when Wallace's messengers arrived, and checked them, and himself, calling to Edwin, stopped his further chastisement of the recovering earl. "'Edwin, you have done wrong,' cried he, "'give me that weapon which you have 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 devalance, he exclaimed, "'But have you not granted life twice to this prisoner? And has 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 insults the Lord Regent of Scotland in the face of both nations. I could not hear this and live without making him feel that you have those about you 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, then those who strike for him invade his dignity. "'I should be unworthy the honour of protecting a brave nation. Did I stoop to tread on every reptile that stings me in my path?' Leave Lord DeValance to the sentence his commander has pronounced, and as an expiation for your having offended both military and moral law this day, you must remain at sterling till I return into Scotland." DeValance, hardly awake from the stupor which the blow of the battle-axe had occasioned, for indignation had given to the young warrior the strength of manhood, was raised from the ground, and soon after coming to himself and being made sensible of what had happened, he was taken, foaming with rage and mortification, into the centre of the southern lines. Alarmed at the confusion he saw at a distance, Lord Montgomery ordered his litter round from the rear to the front, and hearing all that had passed, joined with DeWarren in pleading for the abashed Edwin. His youth and zeal, cried Montgomery, are sufficient to excuse the intemperance of the deed. No, interrupted Edwin, I have offended, and I will expiate. Only my honoured Lord, said he, approaching Wallace, while he checked the emotion which would have flowed from his eyes. When I am absent, sometimes remember that it was Edwin's love which hurried him to this disgrace. My dear Edwin, returned Wallace, there are many impetuous spirits in Scotland who need the lesson I now enforce upon you, and they will be brought to maintain the law of honour when they see that their regent spares not its slightest violation, even when committed by his best beloved friend. Farewell till we meet again. Edwin kissed Wallace's hand in silence. It was not yet wet with his tears, and drawing his bonnet hastily over his eyes he retired into the rear of Lord Marr's party. That nobleman soon took leave of the regent, who placed himself at the head of his legions, the trumpets blew the signal of march. Edwin, at the sound which a few minutes before he would have greeted with so much joy, felt his grief's swollen heart give way. He sobbed aloud, and striking his heel on the side of his horse, galloped to a distance, to bide from all eyes the violence of his regrets. The trampling of the departing troops rolled over the ground like receding thunder. Edwin at last stole a look toward the plain. He beheld a vast cloud of dust, but no more the squadrons of his friend. CHAPTER 44 The Chevyets As Wallace pursued his march along the once fertile and well-peopled valleys of Clydesdale, their present appearance affected him like the sight of a friend whom he had seen depart in all the graces of youth and prosperity, but met again overcome with disease and wretchedness. The pastures of car stares on the east of the river, which used at this season to be whitened with sheep and sending forth the lowings of abundant cattle, and the veils which had teamed with reapers rejoicing in the harvest, were now laid waste and silent. The plain presented one wide flat of desolation. Where once was the enameled meadow, a dreary swamp extended its vapory surface, and the road which a happy peasant tree no longer trod, lay choked up with thistles and ranked grass, while birds and animals of chase would spring from its thickets on the lonely traveller to tell him by their wild astonishment that he was distant from even the haunts of men. The remains of villages were visible, but the blackness of ashes marked the walls of the ruined dwellings. Wallace felt that he was passing through the country in which his marion had been rifled of her life, and as he moved along nature all around seemed to have partaken of her death. As he rode over the moors which led toward the district of Crawford Lamington, those hills amidst which the beloved of his soul first drew breath, he became totally silent. Time rolled back, he was no longer the region of Scotland, but the fond lover of marion braidfoot. His heart beat as it was want to do in turning his horse down the defile which led direct to Lamington, but the scene was completely changed. The groves in which he had so often wandered with her were gone, they had been cut down for the very purpose of destroying that place which had once been the abode of beauty and innocence and of all the tender charities. One shattered tower alone remained of the house of Lamington, the scathing of fire imbrowned its sides, and the uprooted garden marked where the ravager had been. While his army marched before him along the heights of Crawford, Wallace slowly moved forward, musing on the scene. In turning the angle of a shattered wall his horse started, and the next moment he perceived an aged figure, with the beard-wide as snow, and wrapped in a dark plaid emerging from the ground. At sight of the apparition Murray, who accompanied his friend, and had hitherto kept silent suddenly exclaimed, I conjure you on a scot, ghost or man, give us a subject for conversation, and as a beginning pray tell me 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. And indeed, sir, replied he, and its story is very sad. When the Sutherans, who hold Anondale, heard of the brave acts of Sir William Wallace, they sent an army to destroy this castle and domains, which are his, in riot of the Lady Marion of Lamington, sweet creature, I hear they fowlly murdered her in Lanark. Murray was smitten speechless at this information, for had he suspected there was any private reason with Wallace for his silent lingering about this desolate spot, he would rather have drawn him away than have stopped to ask questions. And did you know Lady Marion, venerable old man, inquired Wallace, in a voice so descriptive of what was passing in his heart, that the old man turned toward him, and struck with his noble mane he pulled off his bonnet and bowing answered, did I know her? She was nursed on these knees, and my wife, who cherished her sweet infancy, is now within Yon Bray. It is our only home, for the Sutherans burn us out of the castle, where our young lady left us, when she went to be married to the brave young Wallace. He was as handsome a youth as ever the sun shone upon, and he loved my lady from a boy. I shall never forget the day when she stood on the top of that rock, and let a garland 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 I caught him by his bonny golden locks he was insensible. His head had struck against a stone in the plunge, and a great cut was over his forehead. God bless him a sorry scar it left, but many I warrant have the Sutherans now made on his comely countenance. I have never seen him since he grew a man. Gregory, the honest steward of Lamington, was now recognized in this old man's narration, but time and hardship had so altered his appearance that Wallace could not have otherwise recollected the ruddy face, an active figure of his well-remembered companion, in the shaking limbs and pallid visage of the hoary speaker. When he ended, the chief threw himself from his horse. He approached the old man.  His face was now close to the eye of Gregory, who in the action of the words and the mark immediately recognizing the young playmate of his happiest days, with an almost shriek of joy, threw himself on his neck and wept. Then looking up with tears rolling over his cheeks, he exclaimed, O power of mercy, take me to thyself, since my eyes have seen the deliverer of Scotland. Not so, my venerable friend, returned Wallace, you must make these desolated regions bloom anew. Decorate them, Gregory, as you would do the tomb of your mistress. I give them to you and yours. Marion and I have no posterity. Let her foster, brother, if he still live. Let him be now the lair of Lamington. 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, he was severely wounded. His companions were slain, and I found him on the other side of my lady's garden, left for dead. We fled with him to the woods, and there remained, till all about here was laid in ashes. Finding the cruel Sutherans had made a general waste, yet fearful of fresh incursions. We and others who had been driven from their homes, dug us subterraneous dwellings, and ever since have lived like fairies in the Green Hill side. My son and his young wife and babes are now in our cavern, but reduced by sickness and want, for famine is here. Alas, the Sutherans, in conquering Scotland, have not ganged to kingdom but made a desert. And there is a God who marks return wallace. I go to reap the harvest of Northumberland. What our enemies have ravaged tents, in part 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. Tomorrow he may commence the reduction of every English fortress that yet casts a shade on the stream of our native Clyde, for when the sun next rises the Sutherans will have passed the Scottish borders, and then the truce expires. Gregory fell at his feet, and begged that he be allowed to bring his nanny to see the husband of her once dear child. Not now, replied wallace, I could not bear the interview. She shall see me when I return. He then spoke apart to Murray, who cheerfully acquiesced in a commission that promised him not only the glory of being a conqueror, but the private satisfaction, he hoped, of driving the Sutheran garrison out of his own paternal castle. To send such news to his noble father at Sterling would indeed be a wreath of honour to his aged and yet warlike brow. It was then arranged between the young chief and his commander that watchtowers should be thrown up on every conspicuous eminence which skirted the Scottish borders, whence concerted signals of victories or other information might be severally interchanged. These preliminaries adjusted, the regents' bugle brought Kerr and Sir John Graham to his side. The appointed number of men was left with Murray and Wallace, joining his other chieftains, Bade his friend and honest servant, Adieu. He now wakened to a sense of the present scene, and speeded his legions over hill and dale, till they entered on the once luxuriant banks of the Annen, this territory of some of the noblest in Scotland, till Bruce, their chief, deserted them. It lay in more terrific ruin than even the tracks he had left. There reigned the silence of the tomb, there existed the expiring agonies of men left to perish. Recent marks of devastation smoked from the bloodstained earth, and in the midst of a barren waste a few houseless wretches rushed forward at the side of the regent, through themselves before his horse, and begged a morsel of food for their famishing selves and dying infants. Look! cried an almost frantic mother, holding toward him the living skeleton of a child. My husband was slain by the Southerns, who hold Drachma bin Castle. My subsistence was carried away, and myself turned forth to give birth to this child on the rocks. We have fed till this hour on the wild berries, but I die, and my child expires before me. A second group, with shrieks of despair, cried aloud, Here are our young ones exposed to equal miseries. Give us bread, regent of Scotland, or we perish. Wallace turned to his troops. Fast for a day, my brave friends, cried he, lay the provisions you have brought with you before these hapless people. Tomorrow you shall feed largely on Southern tables. He was instantly obeyed, as his men marched on they threw their loaded wallets amongst the famishing groups, and, followed by their blessings, descended with augmented speed the ravaged hills of Annandale. Dawn was brightening the dark head of Brunswick, as they advanced toward the Scottish boundary. At a distance, like a wreath of white vapours lay the English camp along the southern bank of the Esk. At this site Wallace ordered his bugles to sound. They were immediately answered by those of the opposite host. The heralds of both armies advanced, and the sun rising from behind the eastern hills, shone full upon the legions of Scotland, winding down the romantic precipices of watch-chope. Two hours arranged every preliminary to the exchange of prisoners, and when the clarion of the trumpet announced that each party was to pass over the river to the side of its respective country, Wallace stood in the midst of his chieftains to receive the last adduce of his illustrious captives. When they wore in approach the regent took off his helmet. The Southern had already his in his hand. Farewell, gallant Scott, said he, if ought could embitter this moment of recovered freedom, it is that I leave a man I so revere, still confident in a finally hopeless cause. It would not be the less just word indeed desperate, replied Wallace, but had not heaven shown on which side it fought, I should not now have the honor of thus bidding the brave, they wore in farewell. The arrow passed on, and the other lords, with grateful and respectful looks, paid their obeisance. The litter of Montgomery drew near, the curtains were thrown open. Wallace stretched out his hand to him. The prayers of sainted innocence are lying. Nevermore shall her angel spirit behold me here as you now behold me, return Montgomery, I must be a traitor to virtue before I ever again bear arms against Sir William Wallace. Wallace pressed his hand, and they parted. The escort which guarded the valence advanced, and the proud earl, seeing where his enemy stood, took off his gauntlet and throwing it fiercely toward him, exclaimed, Carry that to your minion, Ruthven, and tell him the hand that wore it will yet be tremendously revenge. As the southern ranks filed off toward Carlyle, those of the returning Scottish prisoners approached their deliverer. Now it was that the full clanger of joy burst from every breast, and triumph-breathing instrument in the Scottish legions, now it was that the echoes rung with loud huzzahs of, Long live the valiant Wallace who brings our nobles out of captivity. Long live our matchless regent! As these shouts rent the air, the lords Baden-Ock and Athol drew near. The princely head of the former bent with proud acknowledgment to the mild dignity of Wallace. Baden-Ock's penetrating eye saw that it was indeed the patriotic guardian of his country to whom he bowed, and not the vain effector of regal power. At his approach Wallace alighted from his horse, and received his offered hand and thanks with every grace inherent in his noble nature. I am happy, returned he, to have been the instrument of recalling to my country one of the princes of her royal blood. And while one drop of it exists in Scotland, replied Baden-Ock, his possessors must acknowledge the bravest of our defenders in Sir William Wallace. Athol next advanced, but his gloomy countenance contradicted his words when he attempted to utter a similar sense of obligation. Sir John Monteith was eloquent in his thanks, and Sir William Maitland was not less sincere in his gratitude. Then Wallace was in joy at having given liberty to sow near a relation of Helen Mar, the rest of the captive Scots. To the number of several hundred were ready to kiss the feet of the man who thus restored them to their honours, their country, and their friends, and Wallace bowed his happy head under a shower of blessings which poured on him from a thousand grateful hearts. In pity to the wearied travelers he ordered tents to be pitched, and for the sake of their distant friends he dispatched a detachment to the top of Langholm Hill to send forth a smoke and token to the Clydesdale watch of the armistice being ended. He had hardly seen it to send the mountain. When Graham arrived from reconnoitering and told him that an English army of great strength was approaching by the foot of the more southern hills to take the reposing Scots by surprise. They shall find us ready to receive them, was the prompt reply of Wallace, and his actions were ever the companions of his words. Leaving the new arrived Scots to rest on the banks of the Esk, he put himself at the head of five thousand men, and dispatching a thousand more with Sir John Graham to pass the Cheviots, and be in ambush to attack the Southerns when he should give the signal, he marched swiftly forward, and soon fell in with some advanced squadrons of the enemy, amongst the recesses of those hills. Little expecting such an encounter they were marching in defiles upon the lower, ridgy crags, to avoid the swamps which occupied the broader way. At sight of the Scots, Lord Percy, the Southrin Commander, ordered a party of his archers to discharge their arrows, the artillery of war being thus open to fresh, Wallace drew his bright sword and waving it before him just as the sun set called aloud to his followers. His inspiring voice echoed from hill to hill, and the higher detachments of the Scots, pouring downward with the resistless impetuosity of their own mountain streams, precipitated their enemies into the valley, while Wallace, 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 through their riders to perish in the swamp, desperate at the confusion which now ensued as his archers fell headlong from the rocks, and his cavalry lay drowning before him, Lord Percy called up his infantry. They appeared, though ten thousand strong the determined Scots met their first ranks breast to breast, and leveling them with their companions rushed on the rest with the force of a thunderstorm. It was at this period that the signal was given from the horn of Wallace, and the division of Graham meeting the retreating Southerns as they attempted to form behind the hill, completed their defeat. The slaughter became dreadful, the victory decisive. Sir Ralph Latimer, the second in command, was killed in the first onset, and Lord Percy himself, after fighting as became his brave house, fled, covered with wounds, toward Onwick. 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 away into the southern granaries. The careful victor, meanwhile, provided for the wants of his friends on the other side of the Esk. The plunder of Percy's camp was dispatched to them, which being abundant in all kinds of provisions was more than sufficient to keep them in ample storage till they could reach Sterling. From that point the released chiefs had promised their regent they would disperse to their separate estates, collect recruits, and reduce the distracted state of the country into some composed order. Wallace had disclosed his wish and motive effecting this renovation of public happiness before he left Sterling. It contained a plan of military organization by which each youth able to bear arms should not only be instructed in the dexterous use of the weapons of war, but in the duties of subordination, and above all have the nature of the rights for which he was to contend explained to him. They only required to be thoroughly known to be regarded as inestimable, added he. But while we raise around us the best bulwark of any nation, a brave and well-disciplined people, while we teach them to defend their liberties, let us see that they deserve them. Let them be men contending for virtuous independence. Not savages fighting for licentious unrestraint. We must have our youth of both sexes, in towns and villages, from the castle to the cot, taught the saving truths of Christianity. From that root will branch all that is needful to make them useful members of the state, virtuous and happy, and, while war is in our hands, let us in all things prepare for peace, that the sword may gently bend into the sickle, the dirk to the pruning hook. There was an expansive providence in all this, a concentrating plan of public will, which few of the nobles had ever even glanced at, as a design conceivable for Scotland. There were many of these warrior chiefs who could not even understand it. Ah, my lords replied he to their war-like objections, deceive not yourselves with the belief that by the mere force of arms a nation can render itself great and secure, industry temperance and discipline amongst the people. With moderation and justice in the higher orders are the only elements of independence. They bring you riches and power, which make it the interest of those who might have been your enemies 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 the banks of the Esk, with all the generous modesty of his nature, he submitted his design to them, rather to obtain their approbation as friends than to enforce it with the authority of a regent. When they saw him, thus coming down from the dictatorship to which his unrivaled talents had raised him, to equal himself still with them, all were struck with admiration, and Lord Bainock could not but mentally exclaim, The royal qualities of this man can well afford this expense of humility. Bend as he will, he has only to speak, to show his superiority overall 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 subdued the princely spirit of Bainock, and while the proud chief recollected how he had contend the pretensions of Bruce and could not brook the elevation of Bailey Hall, how his soul was in arms when, after he had been persuaded to acknowledge the supremacy of Edward, the throne was given to one of his rivals, he wondered at himself to find that his very heart bowed before the gentle and comprehensive wisdom of an untitled regent. Athol alone, of the group, seemed insensible to the benefits his country was deriving from its resistless protector, but he expressed his dissent from the general sentiment with no more visible sign than a cold silence. When the messenger from Wallace arrived on the banks of the Esk with so large a booty and the news of his complete victory over the gallant Percy, the exultation of the Scottish nobles knew no bounds. On Bainock opening the regent's dispatches he found they repeated his wish for his brave co-agitors to proceed to the execution of the plan they had sanctioned with their approbation. They were to march directly for Sterling, and on their way dispensed the super abundance of the plunder amongst the perishing inhabitants of the land. He then informed the Earl that while the guard he had left him with would escort the liberated Scots beyond the fourth, the remainder of the troop should be thus disposed. Lord Andrew Murray was to remain chief in command in Clydesdale. Sir Eustace Maxwell to give up the wardship of Douglas to Sir John Monteith, and then advance into Anondale to assist Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, who must now have begun the reduction of the castles in the west of that province. At the close of this account Wallace added that himself with his brave band were going to traverse the English counties to the tea's mouth, and should Heaven bless his arms he would send the produce round by the Burwick 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 Sutherans country was panic struck at the defeat of Percy, his beaten army flying in all directions before the conquering legions, gave such dreadful and hyperbolic accounts of their might and of the giant prowess of their leader that as soon as ever the Scottish spears were seen rising the summit of any hill, or even gleaming along the horizon every village was deserted, every cot left without inhabitant, and corn and cattle and every kind of property fell into the hands of the Scots. Lord Percy lay immovable with wounds in his castle at Onwick, and his hopeless state by intimidating his followers contradicted the orders he gave to face the marauding enemy. Footnote. This famous castle of so many heroic generations is still the princely residence of the head of the house of Percy. End footnote. Several times they attempted to obey, but as often showed their inability. They collected under arms, but the moment their foe appeared they fled within the castle walls, or buried themselves in deep obscurity amongst the surrounding hills. Not a sheaf in the fields of Northumberland did the Scots leave, to knead into bread for its earl, not a head of cattle to smoke upon his board. The country was sacked from sea to sea, but far different was its appearance from that of the trampled valleys of Scotland. There fire had burned up the soil, the hand of violence had leveled the husbandman's cottage, had buried his implements in the ruins, had sacrificed himself on its smoking ashes. There the fatherless babe wept its unavailing wants, and at its side sat the distracted widow wringing her hands in speechless misery, for there lay her murdered husband, here her perishing child. With such sights the heart of Wallace had been pierced, when he passed through the lowland counties of his country, nay, as he scoured the Highland districts of the Grampians, even there had he met the foot of barbarian man and cruel desolation. For thus it was that the southern garrisons had provisional themselves by robbing the poor of their bread, and, when they resisted, firing their dwellings and punishing the refractory with death. But not so the generous enmity of Sir William Wallace his commission was not to destroy but to save, and though he carried his victorious army to feed on the southern plains and sent the harvests of England to restore the wasted fields of Scotland, yet he did no more. No fire blasted his path, no innocent blood cried against him from the ground, when the impetuous zeal of his soldiers flushed with victory, and in the heat of vengeance would have laid several hamlets and ashes. He seized the brand from the destroying party, and throwing it into an adjoining brook, show yourselves worthy the advantages you have gained, cried he, by the moderation with which you used them. Consider yourself as the soldiers of the all-powerful God, who alone has conducted you to victory, for with a few has he not enabled us to subdue a host? Behave as becomes your high destiny, and debase not yourselves by imitating the hirelings of ambition, who receive as the wages of their valor the base privilege to ravage and murder. I wish you to distinguish between a spirit of reprisal and what I do and that of retaliation, which actuates your present violence, what our enemies had robbed us of as far as they can restore I take again. Their bread shall feed our famishing country. Their wool clove its nakedness, but blood for blood, unless the murderer could be made to bleed, is a doctrine abhorrent to God into humanity. What justice is there in destroying the habitations and lives of a set of harmless people, because the like cruelty has been committed by a lawless army of their countrymen upon their unoffending brethren? Your hearts may make the answer, but if they are hardened against the pleadings of humanity, let prudence show your interest in leaving those men alive, and with their means unimpaired, who will produce other harvests, if need be, to fill our scantier granaries. Thus I reason with you, and I hope many are convinced, but they who are insensible to argument must fear authority, and I declare that every man who inflicts injury on the houses, or on the persons of the quietest peasantry of this land, shall be punished as a traitor to the State. According to the different dispositions of men, this reasoning prevailed, and from the end of September, the time when Wallace first entered Northumberland, to the month of November when, having scoured the counties of England, even to the gates of York, he returned to Scotland, not an offense was committed which would occasion his merciful spirit regret. It was on all Saints' Day when he again approached the Esk, and so great was his spoil that his return seemed more 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 valorous host. The outpost of Carla Verrock soon informed Maxwell the Lord Regent was in sight. At the joyful intelligence a double smoke streamed from every watch hill in Annandale, and Sir Eustis had hardly appeared on the Solway Bank to meet his triumphant chief, when the eager speed of the rough night of Torthal Rald brought him there also. Wallace, as his proud charger plunged into the Ford, and the heavy wagons groaned after him, was welcomed to the shore by the shouts not only of the soldiers which had followed Maxwell and Kirkpatrick, but by the people who came in crowds to hail their preserver. The squalhue of famine had left every face and each smiling countenance beaming with health, security, and gratitude told Wallace more emphatically than a thousand tongues the wisdom of the means he had used to regenerate his country. Maxwell had prepared the fortress of Lachmabin, once the residence of Bruce for the reception of the Regent. And thither Wallace was conducted, in prouder triumph than ever followed the chariot wheels of Caesar. Blessings were the clarions that preceded him, and hosts of people whom he had saved when ready to perish were voluntary actors in his pageant. When he arrived inside of the two capacious locks which spread like lucid wings on each side of the castle he turned to Graham.  He might now be entering its gates as king, and Scotland find rest under its lawful monarch. But he prefers being a parasite in the court of a tyrant, replied Sir John, and from such a school Scotland would reject its king. But he has a son, replied Wallace, a brave and generous son. I am told by Lord Montgomery, who knew him in Guine, that a nobler spirit does not exist. On his brows, my dear Graham, we must hope one day to see the crown. Then only as your heir, my Lord Regent, interrupted Maxwell. For while you live I can answer for it that no Scott will acknowledge any other ruler.  At this moment the portcullis of the gate was razed, and Maxwell falling back to make way for the regent, Wallace had not time to answer a sentiment, now so familiar to him by hearing it from every grateful heart, that he hardly remarked its tendency, a fact the more easily to be believed, from the ambition of such reward never receiving acceptance in his well-principled mind. Ever pressing toward establishing the happiness of his country, he hastened over the splendid repasse that was prepared for him, and dispensing with the ceremonials with which the zeal of Maxwell sought to display his respect for the virtues and station of his commander, he retired with Graham to write dispatches, and to apportion shares of the spoil to the necessities of the provinces. In these duties his wakeful eye was kept open the greatest part of the night, they for whom he labored slept securely, that thought was rest to him. But they closed not their eyes without praying for the sweet repose of their benefactor, and he found it, not in sleep, but in that peace of heart which the world cannot give.