Snawdoun Palace.
Owing to the multiplicity of affairs which engaged Wallace's attention
after the capture of Stirling, the ladies of Mar had not seen him since
his first visit to the citadel. The countess passed this time in
writing her dispatches to the numerous lords of her house, both in
Scotland and in England; and by her subtle arguments she completely
persuaded her husband of the cogency of putting the names of Lord Athol
and Lord Badenoch into the list of noble prisoners he should request.
When this was proposed to Wallace, he recollected the conduct of Athol
at Montrose; and, being alone with Lord Mar, he made some objections
against inviting him back into the country. But the earl, who was
prepared by his wife to overcome every obstacle in the way of her
kinsman's return, answered, "That he believed, from the representations
he had received of the private opinions both of Badenoch and Athol,
that their treason was more against Baliol than the kingdom; and that
now that prince was irretrievably removed, he understood they would be
glad to take a part in its recovery."
"That may be the case with the Earl of Badenoch," replied Wallace, "but
something less friendly to Scotland must be in the breast of the man
who could betray Lord Douglas into the hands of his enemies."
"So I should have thought," replied the earl, "had not the earnestness
with which my wife pleads his cause convinced me she knows more of his
mind than she chooses to intrust me with, and therefore I suppose his
conduct to Douglas arose from personal pique."
Though these explanations did not at all raise the absent lords in his
esteem, yet to appear hostile to the return of Lady Mar's relations
would be a violence to her, which, in proportion as Wallace shrunk from
the guilty affection she was so eager to lavish upon him, he was averse
to committing; wishing, by showing her every proper consideration, to
lead her to apprehend the turpitude of her conduct; by convincing her
that his abhorrence of her advances had its origin in principle, rather
than from personal repugnance to herself; and so she might see the
foulness of her crime, and be recalled to virtue. He was therefore not
displeased to have this opportunity of obliging her; and, as he hoped
that amongst so many warm friends a few cool ones could not do much
injury, he gave in the names of Badenoch and Athol, with those of Lord
Douglas, Sir William Maitland (the only son of the venerable knight of
Thirlestane), Sir John Monteith, and many other brave Scots.
For these, the Earls de Warenne, De Valence, and Montgomery, the Barons
Hilton and Blenkinsopp, and others of note, were to exchanged. Those
of lesser consequence, man for man, were to be returned for Scots of
the same degree.
In arranging preliminaries to effect the speedy return of the Scots
from England (who must be known to have arrived on the borders, before
the English would be permitted to cross them); in writing dispatches on
this subject, and on others of equal moment, had passed the time
between the surrender of Stirling and the hour when Wallace was called
to the plain, to receive the offered homage of his grateful country.
Impatient to behold again the object of her fond machinations, Lady Mar
hastened to the window of her apartment, when the shouts in the streets
informed her of the approach of Wallace. The loud huzzas, accompanied
by the acclamations of "Our protector and prince!" seemed already to
bind her brows with her anticipated diadem, and for a moment, vanity
lost the image of love in the purple with which she enveloped it.
Her ambitious vision was disturbed by the crowd rushing forward; the
gates were thronged with people of every age and sex, and Wallace
himself appeared on his white charger, with his helmet off, bowing and
smiling upon the populace. There was a mild effulgence in his eye; a
divine benevolence in his countenance, as his parted lips showed the
brightness of his smile, which seemed to speak of happiness within, of
joy to all around. She hastily snatched a chaplet of flowers form her
head, and threw it from the window. Wallace looked up; his brow and
his smile were then directed to her! but they were altered. The moment
he met the congratulation of her eager eyes, he remembered what would
have been the soft welcome of his Marion's under the like circumstance!
But that tender eye was closed--that ear was shut, to whom he would
have wished these plaudits to have given rapture--and they were now as
nothing to him. The countess saw not what was passing in his mind, but
kissing her hand to him, disappeared from the window when he entered
the palace.
Another eye beside Lady Mar's had witnessed the triumphant entry of
Wallace. Triumphant in the true sense of the word; for he came a
victor over the hearts of men; he came, not attended by his captives
won in the war, but by the people he had blessed, by throngs calling
him preserver, father, friend, and prince! By every title which can
inspire the soul of man with the happy consciousness of fulfilling his
embassy here below.
Helen was this witness. She had passed the long interval, since she
had seen Wallace, in the state of one in a dream. The glance had been
so transient, that every succeeding hour seemed to lessen the evidence
of her senses that she had really beheld him. It appeared impossible
to her that the man whom her thoughts had hitherto dwelt on as the
widowed husband of Marion, as the hero whom sorrow had wholly dedicated
to patriotism and to Heaven, should ever awaken in her breast feelings
which would seem to break like a sacrilegious host upon the holy
consecration of his. Once she had contemplated this idea with the
pensive impressions of one leaning over the grave of a hero; and she
could then turn as if emerging from the glooms of sepulchral monuments
to upper day, to the image of her unknown knight! she could then
blamelessly recollect the matchless graces of his figure! the noble
soul that breathed from his every word and action; the sweet, though
thoughtful, serenity that sat on his brow! "There," whispered she to
herself, "are the lofty meditations of a royal mind, devising the
freedom of his people. When that is effected, how will the perfect
sunshine break out from that face! Ah! how blest must Scotland be
under his reign, when all will be light, virtue, and joy!" Bliss
hovered like an angel over the image of this imaginary Bruce; while
sorrow, in mourning weeds, seemed ever dropping tears, when any
circumstance recalled that of the real Wallace.
Such was the state of Helen's thoughts, when in the moment beholding
the chief Ellerslie in the citadel she recognized, in his expected
melancholy form, the resplendent countenance of him whom she supposed
the prince of Scotland. That two images so opposite should at once
unite; that in one bosom should be mingled all the virtues she had
believed peculiar to each, struck her with overwhelming amazement. But
when she recovered from her short swoon, and found Wallace at her feet;
when she felt that all the devotion her heart had hitherto paid to the
simple idea of virtue alone would now be attracted to that glorious
mortal, in whom all human excellence appeared summed up, she trembled
under an emotion that seemed to rob her of herself, and place a new
principle of being within her.
All was so extraordinary, so unlooked for, so bewildering, that from
the moment in which she had retired in such a paroxysm of
highly-wrought feelings from her first interview in the gallery with
him, she became altogether like a person in a trance; and hardly
answering her aunt, when she then led her up the stairs, only
complained she was ill, and threw herself upon a couch.
At the very time that her heart told her in a language she could not
misunderstand, that she irrevocably loved this too glorious, too
amiable Wallace, it as powerfully denounced to her, that she had
devoted herself to one who must ever be to her as a being of air. No
word of sympathy would ever whisper felicity to her heart; no--the flame
that was within her (which she found would be immortal as the vestal
fires which resemble its purity) must burn there unknown; hidden, but
not smothered.
"Were this a canonized saint," cried she, as she laid her throbbing
head upon her pillow, "how gladly should I feel these emotions! For,
could I not fall down and worship him? Could I not think it a world of
bliss, to live forever within the influence of his virtues; looking at
him, listening to him, rejoicing in his praises, happy in his
happiness! Yes, though I were a peasant girl, and he not know that
Helen Mar even existed! And I may live thus," said she; "and I may
steal some portion of the rare lot that was Lady Marion's-to die for
such a man! Ah! could I be in Edwin's place and wait upon his smiles!
But that may not be; I am a woman, and formed to suffer in silence and
seclusion. But even at a distance, brave Wallace, my spirit shall
watch over you in the form of this Edwin; I will teach him a double
care of the light of Scotland. And my prayers, also, shall follow you;
so that when we meet in heaven, the Blessed Virgin shall say with what
hosts of angels her intercessions, through my vigils have surrounded
thee!"