Stirling and Snawdoun.
The few chieftains who had remained on their estates during the
suspense before the battle, from a belief that if the issue proved
unfavorable they should be safest amongst their native glens, now came
with numerous trains to greet the return of their victorious regent.
The ladies brought forth their most splendid apparel; and the houses of
Stirling were hung with tapestry to hail with due respect the
benefactor of the land.
At last the hour arrived when a messenger, whom Lord Mar had sent out
for the purpose, returned on full speed with information that the
regent was passing the Carron. At these tidings the animated old earl
called out his retinue, mounted his coal-black steed, and ordered a
sumptuous charger to be caparisoned with housings wrought in gold by
the hands of Lady Mar and her ladies. The horse was intended to meet
Wallace and to bring him into the city. Edwin led it forward. In the
rear of the Earls Mar and Badenoch came all the chieftains of the
country, in gallant array. Their ladies, on splendid palfreys,
followed the superb car of the Countess of Mar; and, preceding the
multitudes of Stirling, left the town a desert. Not a living being
seemed now within its walls except the Southron prisoners, who had
assembled on the top of the citadel to view the return of their
conqueror.
Helen remained in Snawdoun, believing that she was the only soul left
in that vast palace. She sat musing on the extraordinary fate of
Wallace, a few months ago a despised outlaw, at this moment the idol of
the nation! And then turned to herself--the wooed of many a gallant
heart, and now devoted to one, whom, like the sun, she must ever
contemplate with admiration, while he should pass on above her sphere,
unconscious of the devotion which filled her soul.
The distant murmur of the populace thronging out of the streets toward
the Carse, gradually subsided; and at last she was left in profound
silence. "He must be near," thought she, "he whose smile is more
precious to me than the adulation of all the world besides, now smiles
upon every one! All look upon him, all hear him, but I--and I--ah,
Wallace, did Marion love thee dearer?" As her devoted heart demanded
this question, her tender and delicate soul shrunk within herself, and
deeply blushing, she hid her face in her hands. A pause of a few
minutes--and a sound as if the skies were rent, tore the air; a noise,
like the distant roar of the sea, succeeded; and soon after, the shouts
of an approaching multitude shook the palace to its foundations. Helen
started on her feet; the tumult of voices augmented; the sound of
coming squadrons thundered over the ground. At this instant every bell
in the city began its peals, and the door of Helen's room suddenly
opened--Lady Ruthven hurried in. "Helen," cried she, "I would not
disturb you before; but as you were to be absent, I would not make one
in Lady Mar's train; and I come to enjoy with you the return of our
beloved regent!"
Helen did not speak, but her eloquent countenance amply told her aunt
what were the emotions of her heart; and Lady Ruthven taking her hand,
attempted to draw her toward an oriel window which opened to a view of
the High Street; but Helen, shrinking from the movement, begged to be
excused. "I hear enough," said she, "my dear aunt; sights like these
overcome me; let me remain where I am."
Lady Ruthven was going to remonstrate, when the loud huzzas of the
people and soldiers, accompanied by acclamations of "Long live
victorious Wallace, our prince and king!" struck Helen back into her
seat, and Lady Ruthven darting toward the window, cried aloud, "He
comes, Helen, he comes! His bonnet off his noble brow. Oh! how
princely does he look!--and now he bows. Ah, they shower flowers upon
him from the houses on each side of the street; how sweetly he smiles
and bows to the ladies as they lean from their windows! Come, Helen,
come, if you would see the perfection of majesty and modesty united in
one!"
Helen did not move; but Lady Ruthven stretching out her arm, in a
moment had drawn her within view of Wallace. She saw him attended as a
conqueror and a king; but with the eyes of a benefactor and a brother
he looked on all around. The very memory of war seemed to vanish
before his presence, for all there was love and gentleness. Helen drew
a quick sigh, and closing her eyes, dropped against the arras. She now
heard the buzz of many voices, the rolling peal of acclamations, but
she distinguished nothing; her senses were in tumults; and had not Lady
Ruthven seen her disorder, she would have fallen motionless to the
floor. The good matron was not so forgetful of the feelings of a
virtuous youthful heart, not to have discovered something of what was
passing in that of her niece. From the moment in which she had
suspected that Wallace had made a serious impression there, she dropped
all trifling with his name. And now that she saw the distressing
effects of that impression, with revulsed feelings she took the
fainting Helen in her arms, and laying her on a couch, by the aid of
volatiles restored her to recollection. Seeing she recovered, she made
no observation on this emotion, and Helen leaned her head and wept upon
the bosom of her aunt. Lady Ruthven's tears silently mingled with
hers; but she said within herself, "Wallace cannot be always insensible
to so much excellence!"
As the acclaiming populace passed the palace on their way to the
citadel, whither they were escorting their regent, Helen remained quiet
in her leaning position; but when the noise died away into hoarse
murmurs, she raised her head, and glancing on the tear-bathed face of
her affectionate aunt, said, with a forced smile, "My more than mother,
fear me not! I am grateful to Sir William Wallace; I venerate him as
the Southrons do their St. George, but I need not your tender pity."
As she spoke, her beautiful lip quivered, but her voice was steady.
"My sweetest Helen," replied Lady Ruthven, "how can I pity her for whom
I hope everything."
"Hope nothing for me," returned Helen, understanding by her looks what
her tongue had left unsaid, "but to see me a vestal here, and a saint
in heaven."
"What can my Helen mean?" replied Lady Ruthven; "who would talk of
being a vestal with such a heart in view as that of the Regent of
Scotland? and that it will be yours, does not his eloquent gratitude
declare?"
"No, my aunt," answered Helen, casting down her eyes; "gratitude is
eloquent where love would be silent. I am not so sacrilegious as to
wish that Sir William Wallace should transfer that heart to me, which
the blood of Marion forever purchased. No; should these people compel
him to be their king, I will retire to some monastery, and forever
devote myself to God and to prayers for my country."
The holy composure which spread over the countenance and figure of
Helen, as she uttered this, seemed to extend itself to the before eager
mind of Lady Ruthven; she pressed her tenderly in her arms, and kissing
her: "Gentlest of human beings!" cried she, "whatever be thy lot, it
must be happy."
"Whatever it be," answered Helen, "I know that there is an Almighty
reason for it; I shall understand it in the world to come, and I
cheerfully acquiesce in this."
"Oh! that the ears of Wallace could hear thee!" cried Lady Ruthven.
"They will, some time, my gracious aunt," answered she, with an angelic
smile.
"When? where, dearest?" asked Lady Ruthven, hoping that she began to
have fairer anticipations for herself. Helen answered not; but
pointing to the sky, rose from her seat with an air as if she were
really going to ascend to those regions which seemed best fitted to
receive her pure spirit. Lady Ruthven gazed on her in speechless
admiration; and without a word, or an impeding motion, felt Helen
softly kiss her hand, and with another seraphic smile, glide gently
from her into her closet, and close the door.
Far different were the emotions which agitated the bosoms of every
person present at the entry of Sir William Wallace. All but himself
regarded it as the triumph of the King of Scotland. And while some of
the nobles exulted in their future monarch, the major part felt the
demon of envy so possess their souls, that they who, before his
arrival, were ready to worship his name, now looked on the empire to
which he seemed borne on the hearts of the people, with a rancorous
jealousy, which from that moment vowed his humiliation, or the fall of
Scotland. The very tongues which in general acclaim, called loudest,
"Long live our king!" belonged to those who, in the secret recesses of
their souls, swore to work his ruin, and to make these full-blown
honors the means of his destruction. He had in vain tried to check
what his moderate desires deemed the extravagant gratitude of the
people; but finding his efforts only excited still louder
demonstrations of their love, and knowing himself immovable in his
resolution to remain a subject of the crown, he rode on composedly
toward the citadel.
Those ladies who had not retired from the cavalcade to hail their
regent a second time from their windows, preceded him in Lady Mar's
train to the hall, where she had caused a sumptuous feast to be spread
to greet his arrival. Two seats were placed under a canopy of cloth of
gold, at the head of the board. The countess stood there in all the
splendor of her ideal rank, and would have seated Wallace in the royal
chair on her right hand, but he drew back.
"I am only a guest in this citadel," returned he; "and it would ill
become me to take the place of the master of the banquet."
As he spoke, he looked on Lord Mar, who, understanding the language of
his eyes, which never said the thing he would not, without a word took
the kingly seat, and so disappointed the countess. By this refusal she
still found herself as no more than the Governor of Stirling's wife,
when she had hoped a compliance with her cunning arrangement would have
hinted to all that she was to be the future queen of their acknowledged
sovereign. They knew Wallace, saw his unshaken resolution in this
apparently slight action; but others who read his design in their own
ambition, translated it differently, and deemed it only an artful
rejection of the appendages of royalty, to excite the impatience of the
people to crown him in reality.
As the ladies took their seats at the board, Edwin, who stood by the
chair of his beloved lord, whispered:
"Our Helen is not here."
Lady Mar overheard the name of Helen, but she could not distinguish
Wallace's reply; and fearing that some second assignation of more happy
termination than that of the chapel might be designed, she determined
that if Edwin were to be the bearer of a secret correspondence between
the man she loved and the daughter she hated, to deprive them speedily
of so ready an assistant.