Every heart was callous to his sufferings, but that of the wife of his jailer; who, fancying him like a brother of hers, who had been killed ten years before in Italy, at the dead of the night she opened his prison doors. He fled into Normandy; and, without a home, outlawed, branded as a traitor and a thief, he was wandering half-desperate one stormy night on the banks of the Marne, when a cry of distress attracted his attention. It issued from the suit of De Valence, on his way to Guienne. Scared at the tempest, the female attendants of Lady Helen had abandoned themselves to shrieks of despair; but she, insensible to anything but grief, lay in perfect stillness in the litter that conveyed her. As Grimsby approached the travelers, De Valence demanded his assistance to conduct them to a place of shelter. Chateau Galliard was the nearest residence fit to receive the earl and his train. Thither the soldier led them, and heard from the servants that the lady in the vehicle was their lord's wife, and a lunatic. Grimsby remained in the chateau, because he had nowhere else to go; and by accidental speeches from the lady's attendants soon found that she was not married to the earl; and was not only perfectly sane, but often most cruelly treated. Her name he had never learned until the last evening, when, carrying some wine into the banqueting-room, he heard De Valence mention it to the other stranger knight. He then retired full of horror, resolving to essay her rescue himself; but the unexpected sight of the two knights in the hall determined him to reveal the case to them. "This," added Grimsby, "is my story; and whoever you are, noble lord, if you think me not unworthy your protection, grant it, and you shall find me faithful unto death."

"I owe you that, and more," replied the chief; "I am that Wallace on whose account you fled your country; and if you be willing to share the fortunes of one who may live and die in camps, I pledge you that my best destiny shall be yours." Could Grimsby in his joyful surprise have thrown himself at the feet of Wallace, he would have done so; but taking hold of the end of his scarf, he pressed it enthusiastically to his lips, and exclaimed:

"Bravest of the brave, this is beyond my prayers; to meet here the triumphant lord of Scotland! I fell innocently into disgrace; ah! how am I now exalted unto honor! My country would have deprived me of life; I am therefore dead to it, and live only to gratitude and you!"

"Then," replied Wallace, "as the first proof of the confidence I repose in you, know that the young chief who is riding forward with Lady Helen is Robert Bruce, the Prince of Scotland. Our next enterprise is to place him upon the throne of his ancestors. Meanwhile, till we license you to do otherwise, keep our names a secret, and call us by those we may hereafter think fit to assume."

Grimsby, once more reinstated in the station he deserved—that of trust and respect—no longer hung his head in abject despondency; but looking erect as one born again from disgrace, he became the active, cheerful, and faithful servant of Wallace.

During Wallace's conversation with the soldier, Helen was listening with delight to the encomiums which Bruce passed upon his friend and champion. As his eloquent tongue described the merits of Wallace, and expressed an ardent gratitude for his having so gloriously supplied his place to Scotland, Helen turned her eyes upon the prince. Before she had scarcely remarked that he was more than young and handsome; but now, while she contemplated the noble confidence which breathed in every feature, she said to herself: "This man is worthy to be the friend of Wallace! His soul is a mirror to reflect all the brightness of Wallace's; ay, like as with the sun's rays, to kindle with heaven's fire all on whom it turns."

Bruce remarked the unusual animation of her eyes as she looked at him.

"You feel all I say of Wallace," said he. And it was not a charge at which she need blush.

It was addressed to that perception of exalted worth which regards neither sex nor age. Helen did not misapprehend him. The amiable frankness of his manner seemed to open to him her heart. Wallace she adored almost as a god; Bruce she could love as a brother. It requires not time nor proof to make virtuous hearts coalesce; there is a language without sounds, a recognition, independent of the visual organ, which acknowledges the kindred of congenial souls almost in the moment they meet. "The virtuous mind knoweth its brother in the dark!" This was said by the man whose soul sympathized in every noble purpose with that of Wallace; while Helen, impelled by the same principle, and blushing with an emotion untainted by any sensation of shame, replied:

"I am too grateful to Heaven for having allowed me to witness the goodness, to share the esteem of such a being—a man whose like I have never seen."

"He is one of the few, Lady Helen," replied Bruce, "who is worthy of so august a title; and he brightly shows the image in which he was made; so humble, so dignified, so great, so lowly; so super-eminent in all accomplishments of mind and body; wise, brave, and invincible; yet forbearing, gentle, and unassuming; formed to be beloved, yet without a touch of vanity; loving all who approach him, without the least alloy of passion. Ah! Lady Helen, he is a model after which I will fashion my life; for he has written the character of the Son of God in his heart, and it shall be my study to transcribe the blessed copy into mine!"

Tears of gratitude glittered in the eye, and on the smile of Helen. To answer Bruce she found to be impossible, but that her smile and look were appreciated by him, his own told her; and stretching out his hand to her, as she put hers into his, he said:

"We are united in his heart, my sweet friend!"

At this moment Wallace joined them. He saw the action, and the animation on each countenance, and looked at Bruce with a glance of inquiry; but Bruce perceived nothing of a lover's jealousy in the look; it carried the wish of a friend to share what had impressed them with such happy traits.

"We have been talking of you," returned the prince, "and if to be beloved is a source of joy, you must be peculiarly blessed. The affections of Lady Helen and myself have met, and made your heart the altar on which we have pledged our fraternal love."

Wallace regarded each with a look of tenderness. "It is my joy to love you both like a brother, but Lady Helen must consider me as even more than that to her. I am her father's representative, I am the voice of grateful Scotland, thanking her for the preservation her generous exertions yielded! And to you, my prince, I am your friend, your subject—all that is devoted and true."

Thus enjoying the dear communion of hearts, the interchange of mind, and mingling soul with soul, did these three friends journey toward the gates of Paris. Every hour seemed an age of blessedness to Helen, so gratefully did she enjoy each passing moment of a happiness that seemed to speak of Paradise. Nature never before appeared so beautiful in her eyes, the sky was more serene, the birds sung with sweeter notes, the landscape shone in brighter charms; the fragrances of the flowers bathed her senses in the softest balm; and the very air as it breathed around her, seemed fraught with life and joy. But Wallace animated the scene; and while she fancied that she inhaled his breath in every respiration, she moved as if on enchanted ground. Oh! she could have lingered there forever! and hardly did she know what it was to draw any but sighs of bliss till she saw the towers of Paris embattling the horizon. They reminded her that she was now going to be occasionally divided from him; that when entered within those walls, it would no longer be decorous for her to pass days and nights in listening to his voice, in losing all of woman's love in the beautified affection of an angel.

This passion of the soul (if such it may be called), which has its rise in virtue and its aim the same, would be most unjustly degraded were it classed with what the herd generally entitle love. The love which men stigmatize, deride, and yet encourage, is a fancy, an infatuation, awakened by personal attraction, by—the lover knows not what, sometimes by gratified vanity, sometimes by idleness, and often by the most debasing propensities of human nature. Earthly it is, and unto earth it shall return! But love, true heaven-born love, that pure affection which unites congenial spirits here, and with which the Creator will hereafter connect in one blessed fraternity the whole kindred of mankind, has but one cause—the universal unchangeableness and immortality, a something so excellent that the simple wish to partake its essence in the union of affection, to facilitate and to share its attainment of true and lasting happiness, invigorates our virtue and inspires our souls. These are the aims and joys of real love. It has nothing selfish; in every desire it soars above this earth; and anticipates, as the ultimatum of its joy, the moment when it shall meet its partner before the throne of God. Such was the sentiment of Helen toward Wallace. So unlike what she had seen in others of the universal passion, she would hardly have acknowledged to herself that what she felt was love, had not the anticipation of even an hour's separation from him, whispered the secret to her heart.

CHAPTER LXV.

Paris.

When they were arrived within a short distance from Paris, Wallace wrote a few lines to King Philip, informing him who were the companions of his journey, and that he would rest near the Abbey of St. Genevieve until he should receive his majesty's greetings to Bruce; also the queen's granted protection for the daughter of the Earl of Mar. Grimsby was the bearer of this letter. He soon returned with an escort of honor, accompanied by Prince Louis himself. At sight of Wallace he flew into his arms, and after embracing him again and again with all the unchecked ardor of youthful gratitude, he presented to him a packet from the king.

It expressed the satisfaction of Philip at the near prospect of his seeing the man whom he had so long admired, and whose valor had wrought him such service as the preservation of his son. He then added that he had other matters to thank him for when they should meet, and subjects to discuss which would be much elucidated by the presence of Bruce. "According to your request," continued he, "the name of neither shall be made public at my court. My own family only know who are to be my illustrious guests. The queen is impatient to bid them welcome, and no less eager to greet the Lady Helen Mar with her friendship and protection."

A beautiful palfrey, superbly caparisoned, and tossing its fair neck amid the pride of its gorgeous chamfraine, was led forward by a page. Two ladies, also, bearing rich apparel for Helen, appeared in the train. When their errand was made known to Wallace, he communicated it to Helen. Her delicacy indeed wished to lay aside her page's apparel before she was presented to the queen; but she had been so happy while she wore it!

"Days have passed with me in these garments," said she to herself, "which may never occur again!"

The laddies were conducted to her. They delivered a gracious message from their royal mistress, and opened the caskets. Helen sighed; she could urge nothing in opposition to their embassy, and reluctantly assented to the change they were to make in her appearance. She stood mute while they disarrayed her of her humble guise, and clothed her in the robes of France. During their attendance, in the adulatory strains of the court, they broke out in encomiums on the graces of her person; but to all this she turned an inattentive ear—her mind was absorbed in what she had enjoyed, in the splendid penance she might now undergo.

One of the women was throwing the page's clothes carelessly into a bag, when Helen perceiving her, with ill-concealed eagerness, cried:

"Take care of that suit, it is more precious to me than gold or jewels."

"Indeed!" answered the attendant, more respectfully folding it; "it does not seem of very rich silk."

"Probably not," returned Helen, "but it is valuable to me, and wherever I lodge, I will thank you to put it into my apartment."

A mirror was now presented that she might see herself. She started at the load of jewels with which they had adorned her, and while tears filled her eyes, she mildly said:

"I am a mourner, and these ornaments must not be worn by me."

The ladies obeyed her wish to have them taken off, and with thoughts divided between her father and her father's friend, she was conducted toward the palfrey. Wallace approached her, and Bruce flew forward, with his usual haste, to assist her; but it was no longer the beautiful little page that met his view, the confidential and frank glance of a youthful brother—it was a lovely woman arrayed in all the charms of female apparel, trembling and blushing, as she again appeared as a woman before the eyes of the man she loved. Wallace sighed as he touched her hand, for there was something in her air which seemed to say, "I am not what I was a few minutes ago." It was the aspect of the world's austerity, the decorum of rank and situation—but not of the heart—that had never been absent from the conduct of Helen; had she been in the wilds of Africa, with no other companion than Wallace, still would those chaste reserves which lived in her soul have been there the guardian of her actions, for modesty was as much the attribute of her person, as magnanimity the character of her mind.

Her more distant air at this time was the effect of reflections while in the abbey where he had lodged her. She saw that the frank intercourse between them was to be interrupted by the forms of a court, and her manner insensibly assumed the demeanor she was so soon to wear. Bruce looked at her with delighted wonder. He had before admired her as beautiful, he now gazed on her as transcendently so. He checked himself in his swift step—he paused to look on her and Wallace, and contemplating them with sentiments of unmingled admiration, this exclamation unconsciously escaped him:

"How lovely!"

He could not but wish to see two such perfectly amiable and perfectly beautiful beings united as closely by the bonds of the altar as he believed they were in heart, and he longed for the hour when he might endow them with those proofs of his fraternal love which should class them with the first of Scottish princes.

"But how," thought he, "can I ever sufficiently reward thee, Wallace, for what thou hast done for me and mine? Thy services are beyond all price; thy soul is above even empires. Then how can I show thee all that is in my heart for thee?"

While he thus apostrophized his friend, Wallace and Helen advanced toward him. Bruce held out his hand to her with a cordial smile.

"Lady Helen, we are still to be the same! Robes of no kind must ever separate the affections born in our pilgrimage!"

She put her hand into his with a glow of delight.

"While Sir William Wallace allows me to call him brother," answered she, "that will ever be a sanction to our friendship; but courts are formal places, and I now go to one."

"And I will soon remove you to another," replied he, "where"—he hesitated—looked at Wallace and then resumed: "where every wish of my sister Helen's heart shall be gratified, or I be no king."

Helen blushed deeply and hastened toward the palfrey. Wallace placed her on the embroidered saddle, and Prince Louis preceding the cavalcade, it moved on.

As Bruce vaulted into his seat he said something to his friend of the perfectly feminine beauty of Helen.

"But her soul is fairer!" returned Wallace.

The Prince of Scotland, with a gay but tender smile, softly whispered:

"Fair, doubly fair to you!"

Wallace drew a deep sigh.

"I never knew but one woman who resembled her, and she did indeed excel all of created mold. From infancy to manhood I read every thought of her angelic heart; I became the purer by the study, and I loved my model with an idolatrous adoration. There was my error! But those sympathies, those hours are past. My heart will never throb as it has throbbed; never rejoice as it has rejoiced; for she who lived but for me, who doubled all my joys, is gone! Oh, my prince, though blessed with friendship, there are times when I feel that I am solitary!"

Bruce looked at him with some surprise.

"Solitary, Wallace! can you ever be solitary, and near Helen of Mar?"

"Perhaps more so then than at any other time; for her beauties, her excellences, remind me of what were once mine, and recall every regret. Oh, Bruce! thou canst not comprehend my loss! To mingle thought with thought, and soul with soul, for years; and then, after blending our very beings, and feeling as if indeed made one, to be separated—and by a stroke of violence! This was a trial of the spirit which, but for Heaven's mercy, would have crushed me. I live, but still my heart will mourn, mourn her I have lost—and mourn that my rebellious nature will not be more resigned to the judgments of its God."

"And is love so constant, so tenacious?" exclaimed Bruce; "is it to consume your youth, Wallace? Is it to wed such a heart as yours to the tomb? Ah! am I not to hope that the throne of my children may be upheld by a race of thine?"

Wallace shook his head, but with a placid firmness replied:

"Your throne and your children's, if they follow your example, will be upheld by Heaven; but should they pervert themselves, a host of mortal supports would not be sufficient to stay their downfall."

In discourse like this, the youthful Prince of Scotland caught a clearer view of the inmost thoughts of his friend than he had been able to discern before; for war, or Bruce's own interests, having particularly engaged them in all their former conversations, Wallace had never been induced to glance at the private circumstances of his history. While Bruce sighed in tender pity for the captivated heart of Helen, he the more deeply revered, more intensely loved, his suffering and heroic friend.

A few hours brought the royal escort to the Louvre; and through a train of nobles, Helen was led by Prince Louis into the regal saloon. The Scottish chiefs followed. The queen and the Count D'Evereux received Bruce and Helen, while De Valois conducted Wallace to the king, who had retired for the purpose of this conference to his closet.

At sight of the armor which he had sent to the preserver of his son, Philip instantly recognized the Scottish hero, and rising from his seat, hastened forward and clasped him in his arms. "Wonder not, august chief," exclaimed he, "at the weakness exhibited in these eyes! It is the tribute of nature to a virtue which loads even kings with benefits. You have saved my son's life; you have preserved from taint the honor of my sister!" Philip then proceeded to inform his auditor that he had heard from a confessor of Queen Margaret's, just arrived from England, all that had lately happened at Edward's court; and of Wallace's letter, to clear the innocence of that injured princess. "She is perfectly reinstated in the king's confidence," added Philip, "but I can never pardon the infamy with which he would have overwhelmed her; nay, it has already dishonored her, for the blasting effects of slander no time nor labor can erase. I yield to the prayers of my too gentle sister, not to openly resent this wrong, but in private he shall feel a brother's indignation. I do not declare war against him, but ask what you will, bravest of men, and were it to place the crown of Scotland on your head, demand it of me, and by my concealed agency it shall be effected."

The reply of Wallace was simple. He claimed no merit in the justice he had done the Queen of England; neither in his rescue of Prince Louis, but as a proof of King Philip's friendship, he gladly embraced his offered services with regard to Scotland.

"Not," added he, "to send troops into that country against England. Scotland is now free of its Southron invaders; all I require is that you will use your royal influence with Edward to allow it to remain so. Pledge your faith, most gracious monarch, with my master the royally descended Bruce, who is now in your palace. He will soon assume the crown that is his right; and with such an ally as France to hold the ambition of Edward in check, we may certainly hope that the bloody feuds between Scotland and England may at last be laid to rest."

Wallace explained to Philip the dispositions of the Scots, the nature of Bruce's claims, and the transcendent virtues of his youthful character. The monarch took fire at the speaker's enthusiasm, and, giving him his hand, exclaimed:

"Wallace, I know not what manner of man you are! You seem born to dictate to kings, while you put aside as things of no moment the crowns offered to yourself. You are young and, marveling, I would say without ambition, did I not know that your deeds and your virtues have set you above all earthly titles. But to convince me that you do not disdain the gratitude we pay, at least accept a name in my country; and know, that the armor you wear, the coronet around your helmet, invest you with the rank of a prince of France, and the title of Count of Gascony."

To have refused this mark of the monarch's esteem would have been an act of churlish pride foreign from the character of Wallace. He graciously accepted the offered distinction, and bowing his head, allowed the king to throw the brilliant collar of Gascony over his neck.

This act was performed by Philip with all the emotions of disinterested esteem. But when he had proposed it to his brother D'Evereux, as the only way he could devise of rewarding Wallace for the preservation of his son, and the honor of their sister, he was obliged to urge in support of his wish, the desire he had to take the first opportunity of being revenged on Edward by the reseizure of Guienne. To have Sir William Wallace lord of Gascony would then be of the greatest advantage as no doubt could be entertained of his arms soon restoring the sister province to the French monarchy. In such a case, Philip promised to bestow Guienne on his brother D'Evereux.

To attach this new count to France was now all the wish of Philip, and he closed the conference with every expression of friendship which man could deliver to man. Wallace lost not the opportunity of pleading for the abdicated King of Scots; and Philip, eager as well to evince his resentment to Edward as to oblige Wallace, promised to send immediate orders to Normandy that De Valence should leave Chateau Galliard, and Baliol be attended with his former state.

The king then led his guest into the royal saloon, where they found the queen seated between Bruce and Helen. At sight of the Scottish chief her majesty rose. Philip led him up to her; and Wallace, bending his knee, put the fair hand extended to his lips.

"Welcome," said she, "bravest of knights; receive a mother's thanks." Tears of gratitude stood in her eyes. She clasped the hand of her son and his together, and added, "Louis, wherever our Count of Gascony advises you to pledge this hand, give it."

"Then it will follow mine!" cried the king, putting his into that of Bruce; "You are Wallace's acknowledged sovereign, young prince, and you shall ever find brothers in me and my son! Sweet lady," added he, turning to the glowing Helen, "thanks to your charms for having drawn this friend of mankind to bless our shores!"

The court knew Wallace merely as Count of Gascony; and, to preserve an equal concealment, Bruce assumed the name of the young De Longueville, whom Prince Louis had, in fact, allowed to leave him on the road to Paris to retire to Chartres, there to pass a year of mourning within its penitential monastery. Only two persons ever came to the Louvre who could recognize Bruce to be other than he seemed, and they were, John Cummin, the elder twin brother of the present Regent of Scotland, and James Lord Douglas. The former had remained in France, out of dislike to his brother's proceedings, and as Bruce knew him in Guienne, and believed him to be a blunt, well-meaning young man, he saw no danger in trusting him. The brave son of William Douglas was altogether of a nobler mettle, and both Wallace and his prince rejoiced at the prospect of receiving him to their friendship.

Philip opened the affair to the two lords; and having declared his designs in favor of Bruce, conducted them into t he queen's room, and pointing where he stood, "There," cried he, "is the King of Scotland."

Douglas and Cummin would have bent their knees to their young monarch, but Bruce hastily caught their hands, and prevented them:

"My friends," said he, "regard me as your fellow-soldier only, till you see me on the throne of my fathers. Till then, that is our prince," added he, looking on Wallace; "he is my leader, my counselor, my example! And, if you love me, he must be yours."

Douglas and Cummin turned toward Wallace at these words. Royalty did indeed sit on his brow, but with a tempered majesty which spoke only in love and honor. From the resplendent countenance of Bruce it smiled and threatened, for the blaze of his impassioned nature was not yet subdued. The queen looked from one to the other. The divinely composed air of Wallace seemed to her the celestial port of some heaven-descended being, lent awhile to earth to guide the steps of the Prince of Scotland. She had read, in Homer's song, of the deity of wisdom assuming the form of Mentor to protect the son of Ulysses, and had it not been for the youth of the Scottish chief, she would have said, here is the realization of the tale.

Helen had eyes for none but Wallace. Nobles, princes, kings, were all involved in one uninteresting mass to her when he was present. Yet she smiled on Douglas when she heard him express his gratitude to the champion of Scotland for the services he had done a country for which his own father had died. Cummin, when he paid his respects to Wallace, told him that he did so with double pleasure, since he had two unquestionable evidences of his unequaled merit—the confidence of his father, the Lord Badenoch, and the hatred of his brother, the present usurper of that title.

The king soon after led his guests to the council-room, where a secret cabinet was to be held, to settle the future bonds between the two kingdoms; and Helen, looking long after the departing figure of Wallace, with a pensive step followed the queen to her apartment.

Chapter LXVI.

The Louvre.



These preliminaries of lasting friendship being arranged, and sworn to by Philip, Wallace dispatched a messenger to Scotland, to Lord Ruthven, at Huntingtower, informing him of the present happy dispositions with regard to Scotland. He made particular inquiries respecting the state of the public mind; and declared his intention not to introduce Bruce amongst the cabals of his chieftains until he knew exactly how they were all disposed. Some weeks passed before a reply to this letter arrived. During the time, the health of Helen, which had been much impaired by the sufferings inflicted on her by De Valence, gradually recovered, and her beauty became as much the admiration of the French nobles as her meek dignity was of their respect. A new scene of royalty presented itself in this gay court to Wallace, for all was pageant and chivalric gallantry; but it had no other effect on him than that of exciting those benevolent affections which rejoiced in the innocent gayeties of his fellow-beings. His gravity was not that of a cynic. Though hilarity never awakened his mind to buoyant mirth, yet he loved to see it in others, and smiled when others laughed.

With a natural superiority, which looked over these court pastimes to objects of greater moment, Bruce merely endured them; but it was with an urbanity congenial with his friend's, and while the princes of France were treading the giddy mazes of the dance, or tilting at each other in the mimic war of the tournament, the Prince of Scotland, who excelled in all these exercises, left the field of gallantry undisputed, and moved an uninterested spectator in the splendid scene, talking with Wallace or with Helen on events which yet lay in fate, and whose theater would be the field of his native land. So accustomed had the friends now been to share their thoughts with Lady Helen, that they imparted to her their plans, and listened with pleasure to her timid yet judicious remarks. Her soul was inspired with the same zeal for Scotland which animated their own breasts; like Bruce's it was ardent; but, like Wallace's, it was tempered with a moderation which, giving her foresight, freed her opinion from the hazard of rashness. What he possessed by the suggestions of genius, or had acquired by experience, she learned from love. It taught her to be careful for the safety of Wallace; and while she saw that his life must often be put in peril for Scotland, her watchful spirit, with an eagle's ken, perceived and gave warning where his exposure might incur danger without adequate advantage.

The winds of this season of the year being violent and often adverse. Wallace's messenger did not arrive at his destined port in Scotland till the middle of November, and the January of 1299 had commenced before his returning bark entered the mouth of the Seine.

Wallace was alone, with Grimsby, opening the door, announced Sir Edwin Ruthven. In a moment the friends were locked in each other's arms. Edwin, straining Wallace to his heart, reproached him in affectionate terms for having left him behind; but while he spoke, joy shone through the tears which hung on his eyelids, and with the smiles of fraternal love, again and again he kissed his friend's hand, and pressed it to his bosom. Wallace answered his glad emotions with similar demonstrations of affection, and when the agitations of their meeting were subdued, he learned from Edwin that he had left the messenger at some distance on the road, so impatient was he to embrace his friend again, and to congratulate his dear cousin on her escape.

Edwin answered the anxious inquiries of Wallace respecting his country, by informing him that Badenoch, having arrogated to himself the supreme power in Scotland, had determined to take every advantage of the last victory gained over King Edward. In this resolution he was supported by the Lords Athol, Buchan, and Soulis, who were returned, full of indignation from the Court of Durham. Edward removed to London; and Badenoch, soon hearing that he was preparing other armies for the subjugation of Scotland, sent embassadors to the Vatican to solicit the Pope's interference. Flattered by this appeal, Boniface wrote a letter to Edward, exhorting him to refrain from Further oppressing a country over which he had no lawful power. Edward's answer was full of artifice and falsehood, every good principle, and declaring his determination to consolidate Great Britain into one kingdom, or to make the northern part one universal grave.** Wallace sighed as he listened.

**Both these curious letters are extant in Hollingshed.

"Ah! my dear Edwin," said he, "how just is the observation, that the almost total neglect of truth and justice, which the generality of statesmen discover in their transactions with each other, is an unaccountable to reason as it is dishonorable and ruinous! It is one source of the misery of the human race—a misery in which millions are involved, without any compensation; for it seldom happens that this dishonesty contributes ultimately even to the interests of the princes who thus basely sacrifice their integrity to their ambition. But proceed, my friend."

"The speedy consequence of this correspondence," Edwin continued, "was a renewal of hostilities against Scotland. Badenoch took Sir Simon Fraser as his colleague in military duty, and a stout resistance for a little while was made on the borders; but Berwick soon became the prey of Lord Percy, and the brave Lord Dundaff was killed defending the citadel. Many other places fell, and battles were fought, in which the English were everywhere victorious; for," added Edwin, "none of your generals would draw a sword under the command of Badenoch; and, alarmed at these disasters, the Bishop of Dunkeld is gone to Rome, to entreat the Pope to order your return. The Southrons are advancing into Scotland in every direction. They have landed again on the eastern coast; they have possessed themselves of all the border counties; and without your Heaven-anointed arm to avert the blow, our country must be irretrievably lost."

Edwin had brought letters from Ruthven and the young Earl of Bothwell, which none particularly narrated these ruinous events, to enforce every argument to Wallace for his return. They gave it as their opinion, however, that he must revisit Scotland under an assumed name. Did he come openly, the jealousy of the Scottish lords would be reawakened, and the worst of them might put a finishing stroke to their country by taking him off by assassination or poison. Ruthven and Bothwell, therefore, entreated that, as it was his wisdom as well as his valor their country required, he would hasten to Scotland, and condescend to serve her unrecognized till Bruce should be established on the throne.

While Edwin was conducted to the apartments of Lady Helen, Wallace took these letters to his prince. On Bruce being informed of the circumstances in which his country lay, and of the wishes of its most virtuous chiefs for his accession to the crown, he assented to the prudence of their advice with regard to Wallace. "But," added he, "our fortunes must be in every respect, as far as we can mold them, the same. While you are to serve Scotland under a cloud, so will I. At the moment Bruce is proclaimed King of Scotland, Wallace shall be declared its bravest friend. We will go together—as brothers, if you will!" continued he. "I am already considered by the French nobility as Thomas de Longueville; you may personate the Red Reaver; Scotland does not yet know that he was slain; and the reputation of his valor and a certain nobleness in his wild warfare having placed him, in the estimation of our shores, rather in the light of one of their own island sea-kings than in that of his real character—a gallant, though fierce pirate—the aid of his name would bring no evil odor to our joint appearance. But were you to wear the title you bear here, a quarrel might ensue between Philip and Edward, which I perceive the former is not willing should occur openly. Edward must deem it a breach of their amity did his brother-in-law permit a French prince to appear in arms against him in Scotland; but the Reaver being considered in England as outlawed by France, no surprise can be excited that he and his brother should fight against Philip's ally. We will, then, assume their characters; and I shall have the satisfaction of serving for Scotland before I claim her as my own. When we again drive Edward over the boarders, on that day we will throw off our visors, and Sir William Wallace shall place the crown on my head."

Wallace could not but approve the dignity of mind which these sentiments displayed. In the same situation they would have been his own; and he sought not, from any motive of policy, to dissuade Bruce from a delicacy of conduct which drew him closer to his heart. Sympathy of tastes is a pleasant attraction; but congeniality of principles is the cement of souls. This Wallace felt in his new-born friendship with Bruce; and though his regard for him had none of that fostering tenderness with which he loved to contemplate the blooming virtues of the youthful Edwin, yet it breathed every endearment arising from a perfect equality in heart and mind. It was the true fraternal tie; and while he talked with him on the fulfillment of their enterprise, he inwardly thanked Heaven for blessing him so abundantly. He had found a son in Edwin; a brother, and a tender sister in the noble Bruce and lovely Helen.

Bruce received Edwin with a welcome which convinced the before anxious youth that he met a friend, rather than a rival, in the heart of Wallace. And every preliminary being settled by the three friends respecting their immediate return to Scotland, they repaired to Philip, to inform him of Lord Ruthven's dispatches and their consequent resolutions.

The king liked all they said, excepting their request to be permitted to take an early leave of his court. He urged them to wait the return of a second embassador he had sent to England. Immediately on Wallace's arrival, Philip had dispatched a request to the English king, that he would grant the Scots the peace which was their right. Not receiving any answer, he sent another messenger with a more categorical demand. The persevered hostilities of Edward against Scotland explained the delay; but the king yet hoped for a favorable reply, and made such entreaties to Bruce and his friend to remain in Paris till it should arrive, that they at last granted a reluctant consent.

At the end of a week, the embassador returned with a conciliatory letter to Philip; but, affirming Edward's right to Scotland, declared his determination never to lay down his arms till he had again brought the whole realm under his scepter.

Wallace and his royal friend now saw no reason for lingering in France; and having visited the young De Longueville at Chartres, they apprised him of their intention to still further borrow his name. "We will not disgrace it," cried Bruce; "I promised to return it to you, a theme for your country's minstrels." When the friends rose to depart, the brave and youthful penitent grasped their hands: "You go, valiant Scots, to cover with a double glory, in the field of honor, a name which my unhappy brother Guy dyed deep in his own country's blood! The tears I weep before this cross for his and my transgressions have obtained me mercy; and your design is an earnest to me from Him who hung on this sacred tree, that my brother also is forgiven."

At an early hour next day, Wallace and Bruce took leave of the French king. The queen kissed Helen affectionately, and whispered, while she tied a jeweled collar round her neck, that when she returned, she hoped to add to it the coronet of Gascony. Helen's only reply was a sigh, and her eyes turned unconsciously on Wallace. He was clad in a plain suit of black armor, with a red plume in his helmet—the ensign of the Reaver, whose name he had assumed. All of his former habit that he now wore about him, was the sword which he had taken from Edward. At the moment Helen looked toward Wallace, Prince Louis was placing a cross-hilted dagger in his girdle. "My deliverer," said he, "wear this for the sake of the descendant of St. Louis. It accompanied that holy king through all his wars in Palestine. It twice saved him from the assassin's steel; and I pray Heaven it may prove as faithful to you."**

**The author was shown the dagger of Wallace by a friend. It was of very strong but simple workmanship, and could be used as a knife as well as a weapon.

Soon after this, Douglas and Cummin entered, to pay their parting respects to the king; and that over, Wallace taking Helen by the hand, led her forth, followed by Bruce and his friends.

At Havre, they embarked for the Frith of Tay; and a favorable gate driving them through the straits of Calais, they launched out into the wide ocean.

Chapter LXVII.

Scotland.



The eighth morning from the day in which the Red Reaver's ship was relaunched from the Norman harbor, Wallace, now the representative of that once formidable pirate, bearing the white flag of good faith, entered between the castled shores of the Frith of Tay, and cast anchor under the towers of Dundee.

When Bruce leaped upon the beach, he turned to Wallace and said with exultation, though in a low voice, "Scotland now receives her king! This earth shall cover me, or support my throne!"

"It shall support your throne, and bless it too," replied Wallace; "you are come in the power of justice, and that is the power of God. I know Him in whom I bid you confide; for He has been my shield and sword, and never yet have I turned my back upon my enemies. Trust, my dear prince, where I have trusted; and while virtue is your incense, you need not doubt the issue of your prayers."

Had Wallace seen the face of Bruce at that moment, but the visor concealed it, he would have beheld an answer in his eloquent eyes which required not words to explain. He grasped the hand of Wallace with fervor, and briefly replied, "Your trust shall be my trust!"

The chiefs did not stay longer at Dundee than was requisite to furnish them with horses to convey them to Perth, where Ruthven still bore sway. When they arrived, he was at Huntingtower, and thither they went. The meeting was fraught with many mingled feelings. Helen had not seen her uncle since the death of her father; and, as soon as the first gratulations were over, she retired to an apartment to weep alone.

On Cummin's being presented to Lord Ruthven, the earl told him he must now salute him as Lord Badenoch, his brother having been killed a few days before in a skirmish on the skirts of Ettrick Forest. Ruthven then turned to welcome the entrance of Bruce, who, raising his visor, received from the loyal chief the homage due to his sovereign dignity. Wallace and the prince soon engaged him in a discourse immediately connected with the design of their return; and learned that Scotland did indeed require the royal arm, and the counsel of its best and lately almost banished friend. Much of the eastern part of the country was again in possession of Edward's generals. They had seized on every castle in the Lowlands; none having been considered too insignificant to escape their hands. Nor could the quiet of reposing age elude the general devastation; and after a dauntless defense of his castle, the veteran Knight of Thirlestane had fallen, and with him his only son. On hearing this disaster, the sage of Ercildown, having meanwhile protected Lady Isabella mar at Learmont, conveyed her northward; but falling sick at Roslyn, he had stopped there; and the messenger he dispatched to Huntingtower with these calamitous tidings (who happened to be that brave young Gordon whose borrowed breastplate had been that of Bruce's, in his first battle for Scotland!), bore also information that besides several parties of the enemy which were hovering on the heights near Roslyn, an immense army was approaching from Northumberland. Ercildown said he understood Sir Simon Fraser was hastening forward with a small body to attempt cutting off these advanced squadrons; but, he added, while the contentions continued between Athol and Soulis for the vacant regency, no man could have hope of any steady stand against England.

At this communication, Cummin bluntly proposed himself as the terminator of this dispute. "If the regency were allowed to my brother as head of the house of Cummin, that dignity now rests with me. Give the word, my sovereign," said he, addressing Bruce, "and none there shall dare oppose my rights." Ruthven approved this proposal; and Wallace, deeming it not only the best way of silencing the pretensions of those old disturbers of the public tranquility, but a happy opportunity of putting the chief magistracy into the hands of a confidant of their design, seconded the advice of Ruthven. Thus John Cummin, Lord Badenoch, was invested with the regency, and immediately dispatched to the army, to assume it as if in right of his being the next heir to the throne in default of the Bruce.

Wallace sent Lord Douglas privately into Clydesdale, to inform Earl Bothwell of his arrival, and to request his instant presence with the Lanark division and his own troops on the banks of the Eske. Ruthven ascended the Grampians, to call out the numerous clans of Perthshire, and Wallace, with his prince, prepared themselves for meeting the auxiliaries before the towers of Roslyn. Meanwhile, as Huntingtower would be an insecure asylum for Helen, when it must be left to domestics alone, Wallace proposed to Edwin that he should escort his cousin to Braemar, and place her under the care of his mother and the widowed countess. "Thither," continued he, "we will send Lady Isabella also, should Heaven bless our arms at Roslyn." Edwin acquiesced, as he was to return with all speed to join his friend on the southern bank of the Forth; and Helen, aware that scenes of blood were no scenes for her, while her heart was wrung to agony at the thought of relinquishing Wallace to new dangers, yielded a reluctant assent, not merely to go, but to take that look of him which might be the last.

The sight of her uncle, and the objects around, had so recalled the image of her father, that ever since her arrival a foreboding sadness had hung over her spirits. She remembered that a few months ago she had seen that beloved parent go out to battle, whence he never returned. Should the same doom await her with regard to Wallace! The idea shook her frame with an agitation that sunk her, in spite of herself, on the bosom of this trust of friends, when Edwin approached to lead her to her horse. Her emotions penetrated the heart against which she leaned.

"My gentle sister," said Wallace, "do not despair of our final success; of the safety of all whom you regard."

"Ah! Wallace," faltered she, in a voice rendered hardly audible by tears, "but did I not lose my father?"

"Sweet Helen," returned he, tenderly grasping her trembling hand, "you lost him, but he gained by the exchange. And should the peace of Scotland be purchased by the lives of your friends—if Bruce survives, you must still think your prayers blessed. Were I to fall, my sister, my sorrows would be over; and from the region of universal blessedness I should enjoy the sight of Scotland's happiness."

"Were we all to enter those regions at one time," faintly replied Helen, "there would be comfort in such thoughts; but as it is—" Here she paused; tears stopped her utterance. "A few years is a short separation," returned Wallace, "when we are hereafter to be united to all eternity. This is my consolation, when I think of Marion—when memory dwells with the friends lost in these dreadful conflicts; and whatever may be the fate of those who now survive, call to remembrance my words, dear Helen, and the God who was my instructor will send you comfort."

"Then farewell, my friend, my brother!" cried she, forcibly tearing herself away, and throwing herself into the arms of Edwin; "leave me now; and the angel of the just will bring you in glory, here or hereafter, to your sister Helen." Wallace fervently kissed the hand she again extended to him; and, with an emotion which he had thought he would never feel again for mortal woman, left the apartment.

Chapter LXVIII.

Roslyn.



The day after the departure of Helen, Bruce became impatient to take the field; and, to indulge this laudable eagerness, Wallace set forth with him to meet the returning steps of Ruthven and his gathered legions.

Having passed along the borders of Invermay, the friends descended toward the precipitous banks of the Earn, at the foot of the Grampians. In these green labyrinths they wound their way, till Bruce, who had never before been in such mountain wilds, expressed a fear that Wallace had mistaken the track; for this seemed far from any human footstep.

Wallace replied, with a smile. "The path is familiar to me as the garden of Huntingtower."

The day, which had been cloudy, suddenly turned to wind and rain, which certainly spread an air of desolation over the scene, very dreary to an eye accustomed to the fertile plains and azure skies of the south. The whole of the road was rough, dangerous, and dreadful. The steep and black rocks, towering above their heads, seemed to threaten the precipitation of their impending masses into the path below. But Wallace had told Bruce they were in the right track, and he gaily breasted both the storm and the perils of the road. They ascended a mountain, whose enormous piles of granite, torn by many a winter tempest, projected their barren summits from a surface of moorland, on which lay a deep incrustation of snow. The blast now blew a tempest, and the rain and sleet beat so hard, that Bruce, laughing, declared he believed the witches of his country were in league with Edward, and, hid in shrouds of mist, were all assembled here to drive their lawful prince into the roaring cataracts beneath.

Thus enveloped in a sea of vapors, with torrents of water pouring down the sides of their armor, did the friends descend the western brow of this part of the Grampians until they approached Loch Earn. They had hardly arrived there before the rain ceased, and the clouds, rolling away from the sides of the mountains, discovered the vast and precipitous Ben Vorlich. Its base was covered with huge masses of cliffs, scattered in fragments, like the wreck of some rocky world, and spread abroad in wide and horrid desolation. The mountain itself, the highest in this chain of the Grampians, was in every part marked by deep and black ravines, made by the rushing waters in the time of floods; but where its blue head mingled with the clouds, a stream of brightness issued that seemed to promise the dispersion of its vapors; and consequently a more secure path for Wallace, to lead his friend over its perilous heights.**

**This description of Ben Vorlich, written ten years before the journey of the author's brother, Sir. R. K. Porter, into Armenia and Persia, on her reperusing it now, while revising these volumes, reminds her strongly of his account of the appearance of Mount Arafat, as he saw it under a storm, and which he describes with so much, she must be allowed to say, sacred interest, in his travels through those countries.—(1840.)

This appearance did not deceive. The whole mantle of clouds, with which the tops of all the mountains had been obscured, rolled away toward the west, and discovered to the eye of Wallace that this line of light which he had discerned through the mist, was the host of Ruthven descending Ben Vorlich in defiles. From the nature of the path, they were obliged to move in a winding direction, and as the sun now shone full upon their arms, and their lengthened lines gradually extended from the summit of the mountain to its base, no sight could contain more of the sublime, none of truer grandeur to the enraptured mind of Bruce. He forgot his horror of the wastes he had passed over in the joy of beholding so noble an army of his countrymen thus approaching to place him upon the throne of his ancestors. "Wallace," cried he, "these brave hearts deserve a more cheerful home! My scepter must turn this Scotia desrta into Scotia felix; and so shall I reward the service they this day bring me."

"They are happy in these wilds," returned Wallace, "their flocks browse the hills, their herds the valleys. The soil yields sufficient to support its sons; and their luxuries are, a minstrel's song and the lip of their brides. Their ambition is satisfied with following their chief to the field; and their honor lies in serving their God and maintaining the freedom of their country. Beware, then, my dear prince, of changing the simple habits of those virtuous mountaineers. Introduce the luxurious cultivation of France into these tracts, you will infect them with artificial wants; and, with every want, you put a link to a chain which will fasten them to bondage whenever a tyrant chooses to grasp it. Leave them then their rocks as you find them, and you will ever have a hardy race, ready to perish in their defense, or to meet death for the royal guardian of their liberties."

Lord Ruthven no sooner reached the banks of Loch Earn, than he espied the prince and Wallace. He joined them; then marshaling his men in a wide tract of land at the head of that vast body of water, placed himself with the two supposed De Longuevilles in the van; and in this array marched through the valleys of Strathmore and Strathallen, into Stirlingshire. The young Earl of Fife held the government of the castle and town of Stirling; and as he had been a zealous supporter of the rebellious Lord Badenoch, Bruce negatized Ruthven's proposal to send in a messenger for the earl's division of the troops.

"No, my lord," said he, "like my friend Wallace, I will have no divided spirits near me; all must be earnest in my cause, or entirely out of the contest. I am content with the brave men around me."

After rapid marchings and short haltings, they arrived safe at Linlithgow, where Wallace proposed staying a night to refresh the troops, who were now joined by Sir Alexander Ramsay, at the head of a thousand of his clan. While the men took rest, the chiefs waked to think for them. And Wallace, with Bruce and Ruthven, and the brave Ramsay (to whom Wallace had revealed himself, but still kept Bruce unknown), were in deep consultation when Grimsby entered to inform his master that a young knight desired to speak with Sir Guy de Longueville.

"His name?" demanded Wallace.

"He refused to tell it," replied Grimsby, "and wears his beaver shut."

Wallace looked around with a glance that inquired whether the stranger should be admitted.

"Certainly," said Bruce, "but first put on your mask."

Wallace closed his visor, and the moment after Grimsby reentered, with a knight of elegant mien, habited in a suit of green armor, linked with gold. He wore a close helmet, from which streamed a long feather, of the same hue. Wallace rose at his entrance; the stranger advanced to him.

"You are he whom I seek. I am a Scot, and a man of few words. Accept my services, allow me to attend you in this war, and I will serve you faithfully."

Wallace replied: "And who is the brave knight to whom Sir Guy de Longueville must owe so great an obligation?"

"My name," answered the stranger, "shall not be revealed till he who now wears that of the Reaver proclaims his own in the day of victory. I know you, sir, but your secret is as safe with me as in your own breast. Place me to fight by your side, and I am yours forever."

Wallace was surprised, but not confounded by this speech. "I have only one question to ask you, noble stranger," replied he, "before I confide a cause dearer to me than life in your integrity. How did you become master of a secret, which I believed out of the power of treachery to betray?"

"No one betrayed your secret to me. I came by my information in an honorable manner, but the means I shall not reveal till I see the time to declare my name, and that, perhaps, may be in the moment when the assumed brother of yon young Frenchman," added the stranger, turning to Bruce, and lowering his voice, "again appears publicly in Scotland, as Sir William Wallace."

"I am satisfied," replied he, well pleased that whoever this knight might be, Bruce yet remained undiscovered; "I grant your request. Yon brave youth, whose name I share, forgives me the success of my sword. I slew the red Reaver, and therefore would restore a brother to Thomas de Longueville, in myself. He fights on my right hand, you shall be stationed at my left."

"On the side next your heart!" exclaimed the stranger, "let that ever be my post, there to guard the bulwark of Scotland, the life of the bravest of men."

This enthusiasm did not surprise any present; it was the usual language of all who approached Sir William Wallace; and Bruce, particularly pleased with the heartfelt energy with which it was uttered, forgot his disguise in the amiable fervor of approbation, and half arose to welcome him to his cause; but a look from Wallace (who on being known had uncovered his face), arrested his intention and the prince sat down again, thankful for so timely a check on his precipitancy.

In passing the Pentland Hills, into Mid-Lothian, the chiefs were met by Edwin, who had crossed from the north by the Frith of Forth; and having heard no tidings of the Scottish army in the neighborhood of Edinburgh, he had turned to meet it on the most probably road. Wallace introduced him to the Knight of the Green Plume, for that was the appellation by which the stranger desired to be known—and then made inquiries how Lady Helen had borne the fatigues of her journey to Braemar. "Pretty well there," replied he, "but much better back again." He then explained that on his arrival with her, neither Lady Mar nor his mother would consent to remain so far from the spot where Wallace was to contend again for the safety of their country. Helen did not say anything in opposition to their wishes; and at last Edwin yielded to the entreaties and tears of his mother and aunt, to bring them to where they might, at least, not long endure the misery of suspense. Having consented, without an hour's delay, he set forth with the ladies, to retrace his steps to Huntingtower; and there he left them, under a guard of three hundred men, whom he brought from Braemar for that purpose.

Bruce, whose real name had not been revealed to the other ladies of Ruthven's family, in a lowered tone, asked Edwin some questions relative to the spirits in which Helen had parted with him. "In losing her," added he, "my friend and I feel but as part of what we were. Her presence seemed to ameliorate the fierceness of our war-councils, and ever reminded me of the angelic guard by whom Heaven points our way."

"I left her with looks like the angel you speak of," answered Edwin; "but she bade me farewell upon the platform of the eastern tower of the castle. When I gave her the parting embrace, she raised herself from my breast, and stretching her arms to heave, with her pure soul in her eyes, she exclaimed, 'Bless him, gracious God; bless him, and his noble commander! may they ever, with the prince they love, be thine especial care!' I knelt by her as she uttered this; and touching the hem of her garments as some holy thing, hurried from the spot."

"Her prayers," cried Bruce, "will fight for us. They are arms well befitting the virgins of Scotland to use against its foes."

"And without such unction," rejoined Wallace, looking to that Heaven she had invoked, "the warrior may draw his steel in vain."

On Edwin's introduction, the stranger knight engaged himself in conversation with Ramsay. But Lord Ruthven interrupted the discourse, by asking Ramsay some questions relative to the military positions on the banks of the Eske. Sir Alexander, being the grandson of the Lord of Roslyn, and having passed his youth in its neighborhood, was well qualified to answer these questions. In such discourses, the Scottish leaders marched along, till, passing before the lofty ridge of the Corstophine Hills, they were met by groups of flying peasantry. At sight of the Scottish banners they stopped, and informed their armed countrymen, that the new regent, John of Badenoch, having rashly attacked the Southron army in its vantage ground, near Borthwick Castle, had suffered defeat, and was in full and disordered retreat toward Edinburgh, while the country people fled on all sides before the victors. These reporters magnified the number of the enemy to an incredible amount.

Wallace was at no loss in comprehending how much to believe in this panic; but determining, whether great or small the power of his adversary, to intercept him at Roslyn, he sent to Cummin and to Fraser, the two commanders in the beaten and dispersed armies, to rendezvous on the banks of the Eske. The brave troops which he led, though ignorant of their real leader, obeyed his direction under an idea they were Lord Ruthven's, who was their ostensible general, and steadily pursued their march. Every village and solitary cot seemed recently deserted; and through an awful solitude they took their rapid way, till the towers of Roslyn Castle hailed them as a beacon from amidst the wooded heights of the northern Eske.

"There," cried Ramsay, pointing to the embattled rock, "stands the fortress of my forefathers! It must this day be made famous by the actions performed before its walls!"

Wallace, whose knowledge of this part of the country was not quite so familiar as that of Ramsay, learned sufficient from him to decide at once which would be the most favourable position for a small and resolute band to assume against a large and conquering army; and, accordingly disposing his troops, which did not amount to more than eight thousand men, he dispatched one thousand, under the command of Ramsay, to occupy the numerous caves in the southern banks of the Eske, where they were to issue in various divisions, and with shouts, on the first appearance of advantage, either on his side or on the enemy's.

Ruthven, meanwhile, went for a few minutes into the castle to embrace his niece, and to assure the venerable Lord of Roslyn that assistance approached his beleaguered walls.

Edwin, who, with Grimsby, had volunteered the dangerous service of reconnoitering the enemy, returned within an hour, bringing in a straggler from the English camp. His life was promised him on condition of his revealing the strength of the advancing army. The terrified wretch did not hesitate; and from him they learned that it was commanded by Sir John Segrave and Ralph Confrey, who, deeming the country subdued by the two last battles gained over the Black and Red Cummins,** were preparing for a general plundering. And, to sweep the land at once, Segrave had divided his army into three divisions, to scatter themselves over the country, and everywhere gather in the spoil. To be assured of this being the truth, while Grimsby remained to guard the prisoner, Edwin went alone into the track he was told the Southrons would take, and from a height he discerned about ten thousand of them winding along the valley. With this confirmation of the man's account, he brought him to the Scottish lines; and Wallace, who well knew how to reap advantage from the errors of his enemies, being joined by Fraser and the discomfited regent, made the concerted signal to Ruthven. That nobleman immediately pointed out to his men the waving colors of the Southron host, as it approached beneath the overhanging woods of Hawthorndean. He exhorted them, by their fathers, wives, and children, to breast the enemy at this spot; to grapple with him till he fell. "Scotland," cried he, "is lost or won, this day. You are freemen or slaves; your families are your own, or the property of tyrants! Fight stoutly, and God will yield you an invisible support."

**The Red Cummin was an attributive appellation of John, the last regent before the accession of Bruce. His father, the princely Earl of Badenoch, was called the Black Cummin.

The Scots answered their general by a shout, and calling on him to lead them forward, Ruthven placed himself, with the regent and Fraser, in the van, and led the charge. Little expecting an assault from an adversary they had so lately driven off the field, the Southrons were taken by surprise. But they fought well, and resolutely stood their ground till Wallace and Bruce, who commanded the flanking divisions, closed in upon them with an impetuosity that drove Confrey's division into the river. Then the ambuscade of Ramsay poured from his caves, the earth seemed teeming with mailed warriors, and the Southrons, seeing the surrounding heights and the deep defiles filled with the same terrific appearances, fled with precipitation toward their second division, which lay a few miles southward. Thither the conquering squadrons of the Scots followed them. The fugitives, leaping the trenches of the encampment, called out to their comrades: "Arm! arm! Hell is in league against us!" Segrave was soon at the head of his legions, and a battle more desperate than the first blazed over the field. The flying troops of the slain Confrey, rallying around the standard of their general-in-chief, fought with the spirit of revenge, and, being now a body of nearly 20,000 men, against 8000 Scots, the conflict became tremendous. In several points the Southrons gained so greatly the advantage that Wallace and Bruce threw themselves successively into those parts where the enemy most prevailed, and by exhortations, example and prowess they a thousand times turned the fate of the day, appearing as they shot from rank to rank to be two comets of fire sent before the Scottish troops to consume all who opposed them. Segrave was taken, and forty English knights besides.

The green borders of the Eske were dyed red with Southron blood; and the enemy on all sides were calling for quarter, when, of a sudden, the cry of "Havoc and St. George!" issued from the adjoining hill. At the same moment, a posse of country people (who, for the sake of plunder, had stolen into the height), seeing the advancing troops of a third division of the enemy, like guilty cowards rushed down amongst their brave defenders, echoing the war-cry of England, and exclaiming, "We are lost—a host, reaching to the horizon, is upon us!" Terror struck to many a Scottish heart. The Southrons who were just about giving up their arms, leaped upon their feet. The fight recommenced with redoubled fury. Sir Robert Neville, at the head of the new reinforcement, charged into the center of the Scottish legions. Bruce and Edwin threw themselves into the breach which this impetuous onset had made in that part of their line, and fighting man to man, would have taken Neville, had not a follower of that nobleman, wielding a ponderous mace, struck Bruce so terrible a blow, as to fracture his helmet, and cast him from his horse to the ground. The fall of so active a leader excited as much dismay in the surrounding Scots as it encouraged the reviving spirits of the enemy. Edwin exerted himself to preserve his prince from being trampled on; and while he fought for that purpose, and afterward sent his senseless body off the field, under charge of young Gordon (who had been chosen by the disguised Bruce as his especial aid), to Roslyn Castle, Neville rescued Segrave and his knights. Lord Ruthven now contended with a feeble arm. Fatigued with the two preceding conflicts, covered with wounds, and perceiving indeed a host pouring upon them on all sides (for the whole of Segrave's original army of 30,000 men, excepting those who had fallen in the preceding engagements, were now restored to the assault), the Scots, in despair, gave ground: some threw away their arms, to fly the faster; and by thus exposing themselves, panic-struck, to the swords of their enemies, redoubled the confusion.

Indeed, so great was the havoc, that the day must have ended in the universal destruction of every Scot on the field, had not Wallace felt the crisis, and that as Guy de Longueville he shed his blood in vain. In vain his terrified countrymen saw him rush into the thickest of the carnage; in vain he called to them, by all that was sacred to man, to stand to the last. He was a foreigner, and they had no confidence in his exhortations; death was before them, and they turned to fly. The fate of his country was hung on an instant. The last rays of the setting sun shone full on the rocky promontory of the hill which projected over the field of combat. He took his resolution; and spurring his steed up the steep ascent, stood on the summit, where he could be seen by the whole army then taking off his helmet, he waved it in the air with a shout, and having drawn all eyes upon him, suddenly exclaimed, "Scots! you have this day vanquished the Southrons twice! if you be men, remember Cambus-Kenneth, and follow William Wallace to a third victory!" The cry which issued from the amazed troops was that of a people who beheld the angel of their deliverance. "Wallace!" was the chargeword of every heart. The hero's courage seemed instantaneously diffused through every breast; and, with braced arms and determined spirits, forming at once into the phalanx his thundering voice dictated, the Southrons again felt the weight of the Scottish steel; and a battle ensued, which made the bright Eske run purple to the sea, and covered the pastoral glades of Hawthorndean with the bodies of its invaders.

Sir John Segrave and Neville were both taken; and ere night closed in upon the carnage, Wallace granted quarter to those who sued for it, and, receiving their arms, left them to repose in their before depopulated camp.

Chapter LXIX.

Roslyn Castle.



Wallace, having planted an adequate force in charge of the prisoners, went to the two Southron commanders to pay them the courtesy he thought due to their bravery and rank, before he retired with his victorious followers toward Roslyn Castle. He entered their tent alone. At sight of the warrior who had given them so signal a defeat, the generals rose. Neville, who had received a slight wound in one of his arms, stretched out the other to Wallace. "Sir William Wallace," said he, "that you were obliged to declare a name so deservedly renowned, before the troops I led, could be made to relinquish one step of their hard-earned advantage, was an acknowledgment in their favor almost equivalent to a victory."

Sir John Segrave, who stood leaning on his sword with a disturbed countenance, interrupted him. "The fate of this day cannot be attributed to any earthly name or hand. I believe my sovereign will allow the zeal with which I have served him; and yet thirty thousand as brave men as ever crossed the marshes, have fallen before a handful of Scots. Three victories, won over Edward's troops in one day, are not events of a commonplace nature. God alone has been our vanquisher."

"I acknowledge it," cried Wallace; "and that He is on the side of justice, let the return of St. Matthias' Day ever remind your countrymen!"

When Segrave gave the victory to the Lord of Hosts, he did it more from jealousy of what might be Edward's opinion of his conduct, when compared with Neville's, than from any intention to imply that the cause of Scotland was justly Heaven-defended. Such are the impious inconsistencies of unprincipled men! He frowned at the reply of Wallace, and turned gloomily away. Neville returned a respectful answer, and their conqueror soon after left them.

Edwin, with the Knight of the Green Plume (who had indeed approved his valor by many a brave deed performed at his commander's side), awaited Wallace's return from his prisoners' tent. Ruthven came up with Wallace before he joined them, and told him that Bruce was safe under the care of the sage of Ercildown, and that the regent, who had been wounded in the beginning of the day, was also in Roslyn Castle. Wallace then called Edwin to him, giving him orders that all of the survivors who had suffered in these three desperate battles, should be collected from amongst the slain, and carried into the neighboring castles of Hawthorndean, Brunston, and Dalkeith. The rest of the soldiers were commanded to take their refreshment still under arms. These duties performed, Wallace turned with the eagerness of friendship and loyalty to see how Bruce fared.

The moon shone brightly as his party rode forward. Wallace ascended the steep acclivity on which Roslyn Castle stands. In crossing the drawbridge which divides its rocky peninsula from the main land, he looked around and sighed. The scene reminded him of Ellerslie. A deep shadow lay on the woods beneath; and the pensile branches of the now leafless trees bending to meet the flood, seemed mourning the deaths which now polluted its stream. The water lay in profound repose at the base of these beautiful craigs, as if peace longed to become an inhabitant of so lovely a scene.

At the gate of the castle its aged master, the Lord Sinclair, met Wallace, to bid him welcome.

"Blessed be the saint of this day," exclaimed he, "for thus bringing our best defender, even as by a miracle, to snatch us as a brand from the fire! My gates, like my heart, open to receive the true Regent of Scotland."

"I have only done a Scotchman's duty, venerable Sinclair," replied Wallace, "and must not arrogate a title which Scotland has transferred to other hands."

"Not Scotland, but rebellion," replied the old chief. "It was rebellion against the just gratitude of the nation that invested the Black Cummin with the regency; and only some similar infatuation has bestowed the same title on his brother. What did he not lose till you, Scotland's true champion, have reappeared to rescue her again from bondage?"

"The present Lord Badenoch is an honest and a brave man," replied Wallace; "and as I obey the power which gave him his authority, I am ready, by fidelity to him, to serve Scotland with as vigorous a zeal as ever; so, noble Sinclair, when our rulers cast not trammels on our virtue, we must obey them as the vicegerents of Heaven."

Wallace then asked to be conducted to his wounded friend, Sir Thomas de Longueville, for Sinclair was ignorant of the real rank of his guest. Eager to oblige him, his noble host immediately led the way through a gallery, and opening the door of an apartment, discovered to him Bruce, lying on a couch; and a venerable figure, whose silver beard and sweeping robes, announced him to be the sage of Ercildown, was bathing the wounded chief's temples with balsams. A young creature, beautiful as a ministering seraph, also hung over the prostrate chief. She held a golden casket in her hand, out of which the sage drew the unctions he applied.

At the sound of Wallace's voice, who spoke in a suppressed tone to Ruthven while entering the chamber, the wounded prince started on his arm to greet his friend; but he as instantly fell back. Wallace hastened forward. When Bruce recovered from the swoon into which the suddenness of his attempt to rise had thrown him, he felt a hand grasping his; he guessed to whom it belonged, and gently pressed it, smiled; a moment afterward he opened his eyes, and in a low voice, articulated from his wounded lips:

"My dear Wallace, you are victorious?"

"Completely so, my prince and king," returned he, in the same tone; "all is now plain before you; speak but the word, and render Scotland happy!"

"Not yet; oh, not yet!" whispered he. "My more than brother, allow Bruce to be himself again before he is known in the land of his fathers! This cruel wound in my head must heal first, and then I may again share your dangers and your glory! Oh, Wallace, not a Southron must taint our native lands when my name is proclaimed in Scotland!"**

**It is a curious circumstance, that when the body of Bruce was discovered a few years ago in the abbey of Dunfermline, his head retained all its teeth excepting two in front, evidently originally injured by a stroke of violence. Beside this, the evidence remained in the bone of the chest of the fact of its having been cut open after his death, for the heart to be taken out, according to his dying command, to be sent to the Holy Land.

Wallace saw that his prince was not in a state to bear argument, and as all had retired far from the couch when he approached it, in gratitude for this propriety (for it had left him and his friend free to converse unobserved), he turned toward the other inmates of the chamber. The sage advanced to him, and recognizing in Wallace's now manly form the fine youth he had seen with Sir Ronald Crawford at the claiming of the crown, he saluted him with a paternal affection, tempering the sublime feelings with which even he approached the resistless champion of his country, and then beckoning the beautiful girl who had so compassionately hung over the couch of Bruce, she drew near the sage. He took her hand: "Sir William Wallace," said he, "this sweet child is the youngest daughter of the brave Mar, who died in the field of glory on the Carron. Her grandfather, the stalwart knight of Thirlestane, fell a few weeks ago, defending his castle, and I am almost all that is left to her, though she has, or had a sister, of whom we can learn no tidings." Isabella, for it was she, covered her face to conceal her emotions.

"Dear lady," said Wallace, "these venerable heroes were both known to and beloved by me. And now that Heaven has resumed them to itself, as the last act of friendship that I, perhaps, may be fated to pay to their offspring, I shall convey you to that sister whose matchless heart yearns to receive so dear a consolation."

To disengage Isabella's thoughts from the afflicting remembrances, now bathing her fair cheeks with tears, Ercildown put a cup, of the mingled juice of herbs, into her hand, and commissioned her to give it to their invalid. Wallace now learned that his friend's wound was not only in the head, accompanied by a severe concussion, but that it must be many days before he could remove him from his bed without danger. Anxious to release him from even the scarcely breathed whispers of his martial companions, who stood at some distance from his couch, Wallace immediately proposed leaving him to rest, and beckoning the chiefs, they followed him out of the apartment.

On the following morning he was aroused at daybreak by the abrupt entrance of Andrew Lord Bothwell into his tent. The well-known sounds of his voice made Wallace start from his pillow, and extend his arms to receive him.

"Murray! My brave, invaluable Murray!" cried he, "thou art welcome once more to the side of thy brother in arms. Thee and thine must ever be first in my heart!"

The young Lord Bothwell returned his warm embrace in silent eloquence; but sitting down by Wallace's couch, he grasped his hand, and pressing it to his breast, said, "I feel a happiness here which I have never known since the day of Falkirk. You quitted us, Wallace, and all good seemed gone with you, or buried in my father's grave. But you return! You bring conquest and peace with you, you restore our Helen to her family, you bless us with yourself! And shall you not see again the gay Andrew Murray? It must be so, my friend, melancholy is not my climate, and I shall now live in your beams."

"Dear Murray!" returned Wallace, "this generous enthusiasm can only be equaled by my joy in all that makes you and Scotland happy."

He then proceeded to confide to him all that related to Bruce; and to describe the minutiae of those plans for his establishment, which had only been hinted in his letters from France. Bothwell entered with ardor into these designs, and regretted that the difficulty he found in persuading the veterans of Lanark to follow him to any field where they did not expect to find their beloved Wallace, had deprived him of the participation of the late danger and new glory of his friend.

"To compensate for that privation," replied Wallace, "while our prince is disabled from pursuing victory in his own person, we must not allow our present advantages to lose their expected effects. You shall accompany me through the Lowlands, where we must recover the places which the ill-fortune of James Cummin has lost."

Murray gladly embraced this opportunity of again sharing the field with Wallace, and the chiefs joined Bruce. Bothwell was presented to his young sovereign, and Douglas entering, the discourse turned on their different posts of duty. Wallace suggested to his royal friend, that as his restoration to health could not be so speedy as the cause required, it would be necessary not to await that event, but begin the recovery of the border counties before Edward could reinforce their garrisons. Bruce sighed; but with a generous glow suffusing his pale face, said:

"Go, my friend! Bless Scotland which way you will, and let my ready acquiescence convince future ages, that I love my country beyond my own fame; for her sake I relinquish to you the whole glory of delivering her out of the hands of the tyrant who has so long usurped my rights. Men may say when they hear this, that I do not merit the crown you will put upon my head; that I have lain on a couch while you fought for me; but I will bear all obloquy rather than deserve its slightest charge, by withholding you an hour from the great work of Scotland's peace."

"It is not for the breath of men, my dear prince," returned Wallace, "that either you or I act. It is sufficient for us that we effect their good, and whether the agent be one or the other, the end is the same. Our deeds and intentions have one great Judge, and He will award the only true glory."

Such were the principles which filled the hearts of these two friends, worthy of each other, and alike honorable to the country that gave them birth. Gordon had won their confidence, and watched by his prince's pillow.

Though the wounded John Cummin remained possessed of the title of regent, Wallace was virtually endowed with the authority. Whatever he suggested was acted upon as by a decree—all eyes looked to him as to the cynosure by which every order of men in Scotland were to shape their course. The jealousies which had driven him from his former supreme seat, seemed to have died with their prime instigator, the late regent; and no chief of any consequence, excepting Soulis and Athol, who had retired in disgust to their castles, breathed a word of opposition to the general gratitude.

Wallace having dictated his terms and sent his prisoners to England, commenced the march that was to clear the Lowlands of the foe. His own valiant band, headed by Scrymgeour and Lockhart of Lee,** rushed toward his standard, with a zeal that rendered each individual a host in himself. The fame of his new victories, seconded by the enthusiasm of the people and the determination of the troops, soon made him master of all the lately lost fortresses.

**The crusading ancestor of this Lockhart was the bringer of the famous Lee penny from the Holy Land, and from his sprung the three brave branches of the name—Lockhart of Lee, Lockhart of Carnwarth, and Lockhart of Drydean.

Hardly four weeks were consumed in these conquests, and not a rood of land remained south of the Tay in the possession of England, excepting Berwick. Before that often-disputed stronghold, Wallace drew up his forces to commence a regular siege. The governor, intimidated by the powerful works which he saw the Scottish chief forming against the town, dispatched a messenger to Edward with the tidings; not only praying for succors, but to inform him that if he continued to refuse the peace for which the Scots fought, he would find it necessary to begin the conquest of the kingdom anew.

Chapter LXX.

Berwick.



While Wallace, accompanied by his brave friends, was thus carrying all before him from the Grampian to the Cheviot Hills, Bruce was rapidly recovering. His eager wishes seemed to heal his wounds, and on the tenth day after the departure of Wallace, he left the couch which had been beguiled of its irksomeness by the smiling attentions of the tender Isabella. The ensuing Sabbath beheld him still more restored, and having imparted his intentions to the Lords Ruthven and Douglas, who were both with him, the next morning he joyfully buckled on his armor. Isabella, when she saw him thus clad, started, and the roses left her cheek. "I am armed to be your guide to Huntingtower," said he, with a look that showed her he read her thoughts. He then called for pen and ink, to write to Wallace. The reassured Isabella, rejoicing in the glad beams of his brightening eyes, held the standish. As he dipped his pen, he looked at her with a grateful tenderness that thrilled her soul, and made her bend her blushing face to hide emotions which whispered bliss in every beat of her happy heart. Thus, with a spirit wrapped in felicity, for victory hailed him from without, and love seemed to woo him to the dearest transports within, he wrote the following letter to Wallace:

"I am now well, my best friend! This day I attend my lovely nurse, with her venerable guardian, to Huntingtower. Eastward of Perth, almost every castle of consequence is yet filled by the Southrons, whom the folly of James Cummin allowed to reoccupy the places whence you had so lately driven them. I go to root them out; to emulate in the north, what you are now doing in the south! You shall see me again when the banks of the Spey are as free as you have made the Forth. In all this I am yet Thomas de Longueville. Isabella, the sweet soother of my hours, knows me as no other; for would she not despise the unfamed Bruce? To deserve and win her love as De Longueville, and to marry her as King of Scotland, is the fond hope of your friend and brother, Robert —-. God speed me, and I shall send you dispatches of my proceedings."