The Scottish Chiefs by Jane Porter (good romance books to read TXT) 📕

"the adieus of a man, as sensible of your private worth as he regrets the errors of your public opinion, abide with you."

"Were Edward sensible to virtue, like his brave subjects," replied the chief, "I should not fear that another drop of blood need be shed in Scotland to convince him of his present injustice. Farewell, noble earl; the generous candor of yourself and of your brother-in-law will ever live in the remembrance of William Wallace."

While he yet spoke, a youth broke from the group before them, and rushing toward the regent, threw himself with a cry of joy at his feet. "My Edwin, my brother!" exclaimed Wallace; and immediately raising him, clasped him in his arms. The throng of Scots who had accompanied their young leader from Stirling, now crowded about the chief; some kneeling and kissing his garments; others ejaculating, with uplifting hands, their thanks at seeing their protector in safety, and with redoubled glory.

"You forgive me, my master and friend?" cried Edwin, forgetting, in the happy agitation of his mind, the presence of the English embassadors.

"It was only as a master I condemned you, my brother," returned Wallace; "every proof of your affection must render you dearer to me; and had it been exerted against an offender not so totally in my power, you would not have met my reprimand. But ever remember that the persons of prisoners are inviolable, for they lie on the bosom of mercy; and who that has honor would take them thence?"

Lord Arundel, who had lingered to observe this short but animated scene, now ventured to interrupt it: "May I ask, noble Wallace," said he, "if this interesting youth be the brave young Ruthven, who distinguished himself at Dumbarton, and who, De Warenne told me, incurred a severe though just sentence from you, in consequence of his attack upon one whom, as a soldier, I blush to name?"

"It is the same," replied Wallace; "the valor and fidelity of such as he are as sinews to my arms, and bring a more grateful empire to my heart than all the crowns which may be in the power of Edward to bestow."

"I have often seen the homage of the body," said the earl; "but here I see that of the soul; and were I a king, I should envy Sir William Wallace!"

"This speech is that of a courtier or a traitor!" suddenly exclaimed Beck, turning with a threatening brow on Lord Arundel. "Beware, earl! for what has now been said must be repeated to the royal Edward; and he will judge whether flattery to this proud rebel be consistent with your allegiance."

"Every word that has been uttered in this conference** I will myself deliver to King Edward," replied Lord Arundel; "he shall know the man on whom he may be forced by justice to denounce the sentence of rebellion; and when the pruissance of his royal arm lays this kingdom at his feet, the virtues of Sir William Wallace may then find the clemency he now contemns!"

Beck did not condescend to listen to the latter part of this explanation; but proceeding to the court-yard, had mounted his horse before his worthier colleague appeared from the hall. Taking a gracious leave of Sir John Graham, who attended him to the door, the earl exclaimed, "What miracle is before me? Not the mighty mover only of this wide insurrection is in the bloom of manhood, but all his general that I have seen appear in the very morning of youth! And you conquer our veterans; by long experience, and hairs grown gray in camps and battles!"

"Then by our morning judge what our day may be," replied Graham; "and show your monarch that as surely as the night of death will in some hour close upon prince and peasant, this land shall never again be overshadowed by his darkness."

"Listen not to their bold treasons!" cried Beck; and setting spurs to his horse, in no very clerical style he galloped out of the gates. Arundel made some courteous reply to Graham; then, bowing to the rest of the Scottish officers who stood around, turned his steed, and followed by his escort, pursued the steps of the bishop along the snow-covered banks of the Clyde.

Chapter XLVII.

Lammington.

When Wallace was left alone with Edwin, the happy youth (after expressing delight that Murray then held his headquarters in Bothwell Castle) took from his bosom two packets; one from Lord Mar, the other from the countess. "My dear cousin," said he, "has sent you many blessings; but I could not persuade her to register even one on paper while my aunt wrote all this. Almost ever since her own recovery, Helen has confined herself to my uncle's sick chamber, now totally deserted by the fair countess, who seems to have forgotten all duties in the adulation of the audience-hall."

Wallace remarked on the indisposition of Mar, and the attention of his daughter, with tenderness. And Edwin, with the unrestrained vivacity of happy friendship, proceeded sportively to describe the regal style which the countess had affected, and the absurd group with which she had welcomed the Earls Badenoch and Athol to their native country. "Indeed," continued he, "I cannot guess what vain idea has taken possession of her; but when I went to Snawdoun, to receive her commands for you, I found her seated on a kind of throne, with ladies standing in her presence, and our younger chieftains thronging the gallery, as if she were the regent himself. Helen entered for a moment, but, amazed, started back, never before having witnessed the morning courts of stepmother."

But Edwin did not relate to his friend all that had passed in the succeeding conference between him and his gentle cousin.

Blushing for her father's wife, Helen would have retired immediately to her own apartments, but Edwin drew her into one of Lady Mar's rooms, and seating her beside him, began to speak of his anticipated meeting with Wallace. He held her hand in his. "My dearest cousin," said he, "will not this tender hand, which has suffered so much for our brave friend, write him one word of kind remembrance? Our queen here will send him volumes."

"Then he would hardly have time to attend to one of mine," replied Helen, with a smile. "Besides, he requires no new assurance to convince him that Helen Mar can never cease to remember her benefactor with the most grateful thoughts."

"And is this all I am to say to him, Helen?"

"All, my Edwin."

"What! not one word of the life you have led since he quitted Stirling? Shall I not tell him that, when this lovely arm no longer wore the livery of its heroism in his behalf, instead of your appearing at the gay assemblies of the countess, you remained immured within your oratory? Shall I not tell him that since the sickness of my uncle you have sat days and nights by his couch-side, listening to the dispatches from the borders—subscribing, with smiles and tears, to his praises of our matchless regent? Shall I not tell him of the sweet maid who lives here the life of a nun for him? Or, must I entertain him with the pomps and vanities of my most unsaintly aunt?"

Helen had in vain attempted to stop him, while, with an arch glance at her mantling blushes, he half whispered these insidious questions. "Ah, my sweet cousin, there is something more at the bottom of that beating heart than you will allow your faithful Edwin to peep into."

Helen's heart did beat violently, both before and after this remark; but conscious, whatever might be there, of the determined purpose of her soul, she turned on him a steady look. "Edwin," said she, "there is nothing in my heart that you may not see. That it reveres Sir William Wallace beyond all other men, I do not deny. But class not my deep veneration with a sentiment which may be jested on! He has spoken to me the language of friendship—you know what it is to be his friend—and having tasted of heaven, I cannot stoop to earth. What pleasure can I find in pageants?-what interest in the admiration of men? Is not his esteem of a value that puts to naught the homages of all else in the world? Do me then justice, my Edwin! believe me, I am no gloomy, no sighing, recluse. I am happy with my thoughts, and thrice happy at the side of my father's couch; for there I meet the image of the most exemplary of human beings, and there I perform the duties of a child to a parent deserving all my love and honor."

"Ah, Helen! Helen!" cried Edwin; "dare I speak the wish of my heart!
But you and Sir William Wallace would frown on me, and I may not!"

"Then, never utter it!" exclaimed Helen, turning pale, and trembling from head to foot; too well guessing, by the generous glow in his countenance, what would have been that wish.

At this instant the door opened, and Lady Mar appeared. Both rose at her entrance. She bowed her head coldly to Helen. To Edwin she graciously extended her hand. "Why, my dear nephew, did you not come into the audience-hall?"

Edwin answered, smiling, that as he "did not know the Governor of Stirling's lady lived in the state of a queen, he hoped he should be excused for mistaking lords and ladies in waiting for company; and for that reason, having retired till he could bid her adieu in a less public scene."

Lady mar, with much stateliness, replied, "Perhaps it is necessary to remind you, Edwin, that I am more than Lord Mar's wife. I am not only heiress to the sovereignty of the northern isles, but, like Badenoch, am of the blood of the Scottish kings."

To conceal an irrepressible laugh at this proud folly in a woman, otherwise of shrewd understanding, Edwin turned toward the window; but not before the countess had observed the ridicule which played on his lips. Vexed, but afraid to reprimand one who might so soon resent it, by speaking of her disparagingly to Wallace, she unburdened the swelling of her anger upon the unoffending Helen. Not doubting that she felt as Edwin did, and fancying that she saw the same expression in her countenance. "Lady Helen," cried she, "I request an explanation of that look of derision which I now see on your face. I wish to know whether the intoxication of your vanity dare impel you to despise claims which may one day be established to your confusion."

This attack surprised Helen, who, absorbed in other meditations, had scarcely heard her mother's words to Edwin. "I neither deride you, Lady Mar, nor despise the claims of your kinsman, Badenoch. But since you have condescended to speak to me on the subject, I must, out of respect to yourself, and duty to my father, frankly say, that the assumption of honors not legally in your possession may excite ridicule on him, and even trouble to our cause."

Provoked at the just reasoning of this reply and at being misapprehended with regard to the object with whom she hoped to share all the reflected splendors of a throne, Lady Mar answered, rather inconsiderately, "Your father is an old man, and has outlived every noble emulation. He neither understands my actions, nor shall he control them." Struck dumb by this unexpected declaration, Helen suffered her to proceed. "And as to Lord Badenoch giving me the rank to which my birth entitled me, that is a foolish dream—I look to a greater hand."

"What!" inquired Edwin, with a playful bow, "does my highness aunt expect my uncle to die, and that Bruce will come hither to lay the crown of Scotland at her feet?"

"I expect nothing of Bruce, nor of your uncle," returned she, with a haughty rearing of her head; "but I look for respect from the daughter of Lord Mar, and from the friend of Sir William Wallace."

She rose from her chair, and presenting Edwin with a packet for
Wallace, told Helen she might retire to her own room.

"To my father's I will, madam," returned she.

Lady Mar colored at this reproof, and, turning to Edwin, more gently said, "You know that the dignity of his situation must be maintained; and while others attend his couch, I must his reputation."

"I have often heard that 'Fame is better than life!'" replied Edwin, still smiling;