by Jane Porter
Chapter XII.
Drumshargard.
While these transactions occupied the morning, Lady Helen (who thenight before had been removed into the quiet cell appointed for her)slept long and sweetly. Her exhausted frame found renovation; and sheawoke with a heavenly calm at her heart. A cheering vision had visitedher sleeping thoughts; and a trance of happy feelings absorbed hersenses, while her hardly disengaged spirit still hovered over itsfading images.
She had seen in her dream a young knight enter her cell, bearing herfather in his arms. He laid the earl down before her; but as shestooped to embrace him, the knight took her by the hand, leading her tothe window of the apartment (which seemed extended to an immense size),he smiled, and said, "Look out and see how I have performed my vow!"She obeyed, and saw crowds of rejoicing people, who at sight of theyoung warrior raised such a shout, that Helen awoke. She started--shelooked around--she was still in the narrow cell, and lone; but therapture of beholding her father yet fluttered in her breast, and thetouch of the warrior's hand seemed still warm upon hers. "Angels ofrest," cried she, "I thank ye for this blessed vision!"
The prior of St. Fillan might have read his own just sentiment in theheart of Lady Helen. While the gentlest of human beings, she was anevidence that an ardent and pious mind contains the true principles ofheroism. Hope, in such a mind, treads down impossibilities; and,regardless of impediments or dangers, rushes forward to seize theprize. In the midst of hosts, it feels a conqueror's power; or, whenits strength fails, sees, by the eye of faith, legions of angelswatching to support the natural weakness. Lady Helen knew that thecause was just which had put the sword into the hand of Wallace; thatit was virtue which had prompted her father to second him; and wherejustice is there are the wings of the Most High stretched out as ashield!
This dream seemed prophetic. "Yes," cried she, "though thousands ofEdward's soldiers surrounded my father and his friend, I should notdespair. Thy life, O noble Wallace, was not give to be extinguished inan hour! Thy morn has hardly risen, the perfect day must come that isto develop thy greatness--that is to prove thee (and oh! gracious God,grant my prayer!) the glory of Scotland!"
Owing to the fervor of her apostrophe, she did not observe the door ofthe cell open, till the prior stood before her. After expressing hispleasure at the renovation in her countenance, he informed her of thedeparture of the English soldier, and of the alarm which he and Murrayhad sustained for his safety, by the adventure which had thrown astranger from the craigs into their protection. At the mention of thatnow momentous spot, she blushed; the golden-haired warrior of her dreamseemed ready to rise before her; and with a beating heart she preparedto hear some true but miraculous account of her father's rescue.
Unconscious of what was passing in her young and eager mind, the priorcalmly proceeded to relate all that Ker had told of the dangerousextremity to which Wallace was reduced; and then closed hisintelligence, by mentioning the attempt which meditated to save him.The heightened color gradually faded from the face of Helen, and lowsighs were her only responses to the observations the good priest madeon the difficulty of the enterprise. But when his pity for the braveman engaged in the cause, betrayed him into expressing his fears thatthe patriotic zeal of Wallace would only make him and them a sacrifice,Helen looked up; there was inspiration on her lips and in her eyes."Father," said she, "hast thou not taught me that God shieldeth thepatriot as well as armeth him!"
"True!" returned he, with an answering smile; "steadily believe this,and where will be the sighs you have just been breathing!"
"Nature will shrink," replied she; "but the Christian's hope checks herere she falls. Pardon me then, holy father, that I sometimes weep; butthey are often tears of trust and consolation."
"Daughter of heaven," replied the good prior, "you might teach devotionto age, and cause youth to be enamored of the graces of religion! Beever thus, and you may look with indifference on the wreck of worlds."
Helen having meekly replied to this burst from the heart of the holyman, begged to see her cousin before he set off on his expedition. Theprior withdrew, and within an hour after, Murray entered the apartment.Their conversation was long, and their parting full of an interestthat dissolved them both into tears. "When I see you again, my bravecousin, tell me that my father is free, and his preserver safe. Yourown life, dear Andrew," added she, as he pressed his cheek to hers,"must always be precious to me."
Murray hastily withdrew, and Helen was again alone.
The young chieftain and Ker covered their armor with shepherd's plaids;and having received a thousand blessings from the prior and Halbert,proceeded under shelter of the night, through the obscurest paths ofthe wood which divided Bothwell from Drumshargard.
Sir John Murray was gone to rest when his nephew arrived, but LordAndrew's voice being well known by the porter, he was admitted into thehouse; and leaving his companion in the dining-hall, went to theapartment of his uncle. The old knight was soon aroused, and welcomedhis nephew with open arms; for he had feared, from the accounts broughtby the fugitive tenants of Bothwell, that he also had been carried awayprisoner.
Murray now unfolded his errand--first to obtain a band of Sir John'strustiest people to assist in rescuing the preserver of the earl's lifefrom immediate destruction; and secondly, if a commission for LordMar's release did not arrive from King Edward, to aid him to free hisuncle and the countess from Dumbarton Castle.
Sir John listened with growing anxiety to his nephew's details. Whenhe heard of Lady Helen's continuing in the convent, he highly approvedit. "That is well," said he; "so bring her to any private protectionwould only spread calamity. She might be traced, and her protector putin danger; none but the church, with safety to itself, can grant asylumto the daughter of a state prisoner."
"Then I doubly rejoice she is there," replied Murray, "and there shewill remain, till your generous assistance empowers me to rescue herfather."
"Lord Mar has been very rash, nephew," returned Drumshargard. "Whatoccasion was there for him to volunteer sending men to support SirWilliam Wallace? and how durst he bring ruin on Bothwell Castle, bycollecting unauthorized by my brother, its vassals for so dangerous anexperiment?"
Murray started at these unexpected observations. He knew his uncle wastimid, but he had never suspected him of meanness; however, inconsideration of the respect he owed to him as his father's brother, hesmothered his disgust, and gave him a mild answer. But the old mancould not approve of a nobleman of his rank running himself, hisfortune, and his friends into peril, to pay any debt of gratitude; and,as to patriotic sentiments being a stimulus, he treated the idea withcontempt. "Trust me, Andrew," said he, "nobody profits by thesenotions but thieves and desperate fellows ready to become thieves!"
"I do not understand you, sir!"
"Not understand me?" replied the knight, rather impatiently. "Whosuffers in these contests for liberty, as you choose to call them, butsuch men as Lord Mar and your father? Betrayed by artful declamation,they rush into conspiracies against the existing government, aredetected, ruined, and perhaps finally lose their lives! Who gains byrebellion, but a few penniless wretches, that embrace these vauntedprinciples from the urgency of their necessities? They acquireplunder, under the mask of extraordinary disinterestedness; andhazarding nothing of themselves but their worthless lives, they wouldmake tools of the first men in the realm; and throw the whole countryinto flames, that they may catch a few brands from the fire!"
Young Murray felt his anger rise with this speech. "You do not speakto my point, sir! I do not come here to dispute the general evil ofrevolt, but to ask your assistance to snatch two of the bravest men inScotland from the fangs of the tyrant who has made you a slave!"
"Nephew!" cried the knight, starting from his couch; and darting afierce look at him, "if any man but one of my own blood had utteredthat word, this hour should have been his last."
"Every man, sir," continued Murray, "who acts upon your principles,m
ust know himself to be a slave;-and to resent being called so, is toaffront his conscience. A name is nothing, the fact ought to knockupon your heart, and there arouse the indignation of a Scot and aMurray. See you not the villages of your country burning around you?the castles of your chieftains razed to the ground? Did not theplains of Dunbar reek with the blood of your kinsmen; and even now, doyou not see them led away in chains to the strongholds of the tyrant?Are not your stoutest vassals pressed from your service, and sent intoforeign wars? And yet you exclaim, 'I see no injury--I spurn at thename of slave!'"
Murray rose from his seat as he ended, and walking the room inagitation, did not perceive the confusion of his uncle, who, at onceovercome with conviction and fear, again ventured to speak: "It is toosure you speak truth, Andrew; but what am I, or any other privateindividual, that we should make ourselves a forlorn hope for the wholenation? Will Baliol, who was the first to bow to the usurper, will hethank us for losing our heads in resentment of his indignity? Brucehimself, the rightful heir of the crown, leaves us to our fates, andhas become a courtier in England! For whom, then, should I adventuremy gray hairs, and the quiet of my home, to seek an uncertain liberty,and to meet an almost certain death?"
"For Scotland, uncle," replied he; "just laws are her right. You areher son; and if you do not make one in the grand attempt to rescue herfrom the bloodhounds which tear her vitals, the guilt of parricide willbe on your soul! Think not, sir, to preserve your home, or even yourgray hairs, by hugging the chains by which you are bound. You are aScot, and that is sufficient to arm the enemy against your property andlife. Remember the fate of Lord Monteith! At the very time he wasbeset by the parasites of Edward, and persuaded by their flatteries tobe altogether as an Englishman, in that very hour, when he had taken aniece of Cressingham's to his arms, by her hands the vengeance ofEdward reached him-he fell!"
Murray saw that his uncle was struck, and that he trembled.
"But I am too insignificant, Andrew!"
"You are the brother of Lord Bothwell!" answered Murray, with all thedignity of his father rising in his countenance. "His largepossessions made him a traitor in the eyes of the tyrant'srepresentatives. Cressingham, as treasurer for the crew, has alreadysent his lieutenant to lord it in our paternal castle; and do notdeceive yourself in believing that some one of his officers will notrequire the fertile fields of Drumshargard as a reward for hisservices! No!-cheat not yourself with the idea that the brother ofLord Bothwell will be too insignificant to share in the honor ofbearing a part in the confiscations of his country! Trust me, myuncle, the forbearance of tyrants is not that of mercy, but ofconvenience. When they need your wealth, or your lands, yoursubmission is forgotten, and a prison, or the ax, ready to give themquiet possession."
Sir John Murray, though a timid and narrow-sighted man, now fullycomprehended his nephew's reasoning; and his fears taking a differentturn, he hastily declared his determination to set off immediately forthe Highlands. "In the morning, by daybreak," said he, "I willcommence my journey, and join my brother at Loch-awe; for I cannotbelieve myself safe a moment, while so near the garrisons of the enemy."
Murray approved this plan; and after obtaining his hard-wrung leave totake thirty men from his vassals, he returned to Ker, to inform him ofthe success of his mission. It was not necessary, neither would ithave been agreeable to his pride, to relate the arguments which hadbeen required to obtain this small assistance; and in the course of anhour he brought together the appointed number of the bravest men on theestate. When equipped he led them into the hall, to receive the lastcommand from their feudal lord.
On seeing them armed, with every man his drawn dirk in his hand, SirJohn turned pale. Murray, with the unfolded banner of Mar in hisgrasp, and Ker by his side, stood at their head.
"Young men," said the old knight, striving to speak in a firm tone, "inthis expedition you are to consider yourselves the followers of mynephew; he is brave and honourable, therefore I commit you to hiscommand. But as you go on his earnest petition, I am not answerable toany man for the enterprises to which he may lead you."
"Be they all on my own head!" cried Murray, blushing at his uncle'spusillanimity, and drawing out his sword with an impatience that madethe old knight start. "We now have your permission to depart, sir?"
Sir John gave a ready assent; he was anxious to get so hot-headed ayouth out of his house, and to collect his gold and servants, that hemight commence his own flight by break of day.
It was still dark as midnight when Murray and his little company passedthe heights above Drumshargard, and took their rapid though silentmarch toward the cliffs, which would conduct them to the more dangerouspasses of the Cartlane Craigs.