The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

  Chapter XXXV.

  Stirling Citadel.

  At noon next day Murray received a message from Wallace, desiring himto acquaint the Earl of Mar that he was coming to the citadel to offerthe palace of Snawdoun to the ladies of Mar, and to request the earl totake charge of the illustrous prisoners he was bringing to the castle.

  Each member of the family hastened to prepare for an interview whichexcited different expectations in each different breast. Lady Mar,well satisfied that Helen and Wallace had never met, and clinging tothe vague words of Murray, that he had sent to give her liberty, calledforth every art of the tiringroom to embellish her still fine person.Lady Ruthven, with the respectable eagerness of a chaste matron, inprospect of seeing the man who had so often been the preserver of herbrother, and who had so lately delivered her husband from a loathsomedungeon, was the first who joined the earl in the great gallery. LadyMar soon after entered like Juno, in all her plumage of majesty andbeauty.

  But the trumpet of Wallace had sounded in the gates before thetrembling Helen could leave her apartment. It was the herald of hisapproach, and she sunk breathless into a seat. She was now going tosee for the first time the man for whose woes she had so often wept;the man who had incurred them all for objects dear to her. He whom shehad mourned as one stricken in sorrows, and feared for, as an outlawdoomed to suffering and to death, was now to appear before her, not inthe garb of woe, which excuses the sympathy its wearer excites, butarrayed as a conqueror, as the champion of Scotland, giving laws to heroppressors, and entering in triumph, over fields of their slain!

  Awful as this picture was to the timidity of her gentle nature, italone did not occasion that inexpressible sensation which seemed tocheck the pulses of her heart. Was she, or was she not, to recognizein his train the young and noble Bruce? Was she to be assured that hestill existed? Or, by seeking him everywhere in vain, ascertain thathe, who could not break his word, had perished, lonely and unknown?

  While these ideas thronged into her mind, the platform below wasfilling with the triumphant Scots; and, her door suddenly opening,Edwin entered in delighted haste. "Come, cousin!" cried he, "SirWilliam Wallace has almost finished his business in the great hall. Hehas made my uncle governor of this place, and has committed nearly athousand prisoners of rank to his care. If you be not expeditious, youwill allow him to enter the gallery before you."

  Hardly observing her face, from the happy emotions which dazzled hisown eyes, he seized her hand, and hurried her to the gallery.

  Only her aunt and step-mother were yet there. Lady Ruthven satcomposedly, on a tapestried bench, awaiting the arrival of the company.But Lady Mar was near the door, listening impatiently to the voicesbeneath. At sight of Helen, she drew back; but she smiled exultinglywhen she saw that all the splendour of beauty she had so lately beheldand dreaded was flown. Her unadorned garments gave no particularattraction to the simple lines of her form; the effulgence of hercomplexion was gone; her cheek was pale, and the tremulous motion ofher step deprived her of the elastic grace which was usually the charmof her nymph-like figure.

  Triumph now sat in the eyes of the countess; and, with an air ofauthority, she waved Helen to take a seat beside Lady Ruthven. ButHelen, fearful of what might be her emotion when the train shouldenter, had just placed herself behind her aunt, when the steps of manya mailed foot sounded upon the oaken floor of the outward gallery. Thenext moment the great doors of the huge screen opened, and a crowd ofknights in armor flashed upon her eyes. A strange dimness overspreadher faculties, and nothing appeared to her but an indistinct throngapproaching. She would have given worlds to have been removed from thespot, but was unable to stir; and on recovering her senses, she beheldLady Mar (who, exclaiming, "Ever my preserver!" had hastened forward),now leaning on the bosom of one of the chiefs: his head was bent as ifanswering her in a low voice. By the golden locks, which hung downupon the jeweled tresses of the countess, and obscured his face, shejudged it must indeed be the deliverer of her father, the knight of herdream. But where was he, who had delivered herself from a worse fatethan death? Where was the dweller of her daily thoughts, the brightapparition of her unslumbering pillow?

  Helen's sight, now clearing to as keen a vision as before it had beendulled and indistinct, with a timid and anxious gaze glanced from faceto face of the chieftains around; but all were strange. Thenwithdrawing her eyes with a sad conviction that their search was indeedin vain; in the very moment of that despair, they were arrested by aglimpse of the features of Wallace. He had raised his head; he shookback his clustering hair, and her secret was revealed. In thatgod-like countenance she recognized the object of her devoted wishes!and with a gasp of overwhelming surprise, she must have fallen from herseat, had not Lady Ruthven, hearing a sound like the sigh of death,turned round, and caught her in her arms. The cry of her aunt drewevery eye to the spot. Wallace immediately relinquished the countessto her husband, and moved toward the beautiful and senseless form thatlay on the bosom of Lady Ruthven. The earl and his agitated wifefollowed.

  "What ails my Helen?" asked the affectionate father.

  "I know not," replied his sister; "she sat behind me, and I knewnothing of her disorder till she fell as you see."

  Murray instantly supposed that she had discovered the unknown knight;and looking from countenance to countenance, amongst the train, to tryif he could discern the envied cause of such emotions, he read in noface an answering feeling with that of Helen's; and turning away fromhis unavailing scrutiny, on hearing her draw a deep sigh, his eyesfixed themselves on her, as if they would have read her soul. Wallace,who, in the pale form before him, saw, not only the woman whom he hadpreserved with a brother's care, but the compassionate saint, who hadgiven a hallowed grave to the remains of an angel, pure as herself, nowhung over her with anxiety so eloquent in every feature that thecountess would willingly at that moment have stabbed her in every vein.

  Lady Ruthven had sprinkled her niece with water; and as she began torevive, Wallace motioned to his chieftains to withdraw; her eyes openedslowly; but recollection returning with every reawakened sense, shedimly perceived a press of people around her, and fearful of againencountering that face, which declared the Bruce of her secretmeditations and the Wallace of her declared veneration were one, sheburied her blushes in the bosom of her father. In that short point oftime, images of past, present, and to come, rushed before her; andwithout confessing to herself why she thought it necessary to make thevow, her soul seemed to swear on the sacred altar of a parent's heart,never more to think on either idea. Separate, it was sweet to muse onher own deliverer; it was delightful to dwell on the virtues of herfather's preserver. But when she saw both characters blended in one,her feelings seemed sacrilege; and she wished even to bury hergratitude, where no eye but Heaven's could see its depth and fervor.

  Trembling at what might be the consequences of this scene, Lady mardetermined to hint to Wallace that Helen loved some unknown knight; andbending to her daughter, said in a low voice, yet loud enough for himto hear, "Retire, my child; you will be better in your own room,whether pleasure or disappointment about the person you wished todiscover in Sir William's train have occasioned these emotions."

  Helen recovered herself at this indelicate remark; and raising her headwith that modest dignity which only belongs to the purest mind, gentlybut firmly said, "I obey you, madam; and he whom I have seen will betoo generous, not to pardon the effects of so unexpected a weight ofgratitude." As she spoke, her turning eye met the fixed gaze ofWallace. His countenance became agitated, and dropping on his kneebeside her; "Gracious lady;" cried he, "mine is the right of gratitude;but it is dear land precious to me; a debt that my life will not beable to repay. I was ignorant of all your goodness, when we parted inthe hermit's cave. But the spirit of an angel like yourself, LadyHelen, will whisper to you all her widowed husband's thanks." Hepressed her hand fervently between his, and rising, left the room.

  Helen looked on with an im
movable eye, in which the heroic vow of hersoul spoke in every beam; but as he arose, even then she felt itsfrailty, for her spirit seemed leaving her; and as he disappeared fromthe door, her world seemed shut from her eyes. Not to think of him wasimpossible; how to think of him was in her own power. Her heart feltas if suddenly made a desert. But heroism was there. She had lookedupon the Heaven-dedicated Wallace; on the widowed mourner of Marion;the saint and the hero; the being of another world! and as such shewould regard him, till in the realms of purity she might acknowledgethe brother of her soul!

  A sacred inspiration seemed to illuminate her features, and to bracewith the vigor of immortality those limbs which before had sunk underher. She forgot she was still of earth, while a holy love, like thatof the dove in Paradise, sat brooding on her heart.

  Lady Mar gazed on her without understanding the ethereal meaning ofthose looks. Judging from her own impassioned feelings, she could onlyresolve the resplendent beauty which shone from the now animated faceand form of Helen into the rapture of finding herself beloved. Had shenot heard Wallace declare himself to be the unknown knight who hadrescued Helen? She had heard him devote his life to her, and was nothis heart included in that dedication? She had then heard that lovevowed to another, which she would have sacrificed her soul to win!

  Murray too was confounded; but his reflections were far different fromthose of Lady Mar. He saw his newly self-discerned passion smotheredin its first breath. At the moment in which he found that he loved hiscousin above all of women's mold, an unappealable voice in his bosommade him crush every fond desire. That heart which, with the chastetransports of a sister, had throbbed so entrancingly against his, wasthen another's! was become the captive of Wallace's virtues; of theonly man who, his judgment would have said, deserves Helen Mar! Butwhen he clasped her glowing beauties in his arms only the night before,his enraptured soul then believed that the tender smile he saw on herlips was meant as the sweet earnest of the happier moment, when hemight hold her there forever! That dream was now past. "Well! be itso!" said he to himself, "if this too daring passion must be clipped onthe wing, I have at least the consolation that it soared like the birdof Jove! But, loveliest of created beings," thought he, looking onHelen with an expression which, had she met it, would have told her allthat was passing in his soul, "if I am not to be thy love, I will bethy friend--and live for thee and Wallace!"

  Believing that she had read her sentence in what she thought thetriumphant glances of a happy passion, Lady Mar turned from herdaughter-in-law with such a hatred kindling in her heart, she durst nottrust her eyes to the inspection of the bystanders; but her tonguecould not be restrained beyond the moment in which the object of herjealousy left the room. As the door closed upon Helen, who retiredleaning on the arms of her aunt and Edwin, the countess turned to herlord; his eyes were looking with doting fondness toward the point whereshe withdrew. This sight augmented the angry tumults in the breast ofhis wife; and with a bitter smile she said, "So, my lord, you find theicy bosom of your Helen can be thawed!"

  "How do you mean, Joanna?" returned the earl, doubting her words andlooks; "you surely cannot blame our daughter for being sensible ofgratitude."

  "I blame all young women," replied she, "who give themselves airs ofunnatural coldness; and then, when the proof comes, behave in a mannerso extraordinary, so indelicately, I must say."

  "My Lady Mar!" ejaculated the earl, with an amazed look, "what am I tothink of you from this? How has my daughter behaved indelicately? Shedid not lay her head on Sir William Wallace's bosom and weep there tillhe replaced her on her natural pillow, mine. Have a care, madam, thatI do not see more in this spleen than would be honorable to you for meto discover."

  Fearing nothing so much as that her husband should really suspect thepassion which possessed her, and so remove her from the side ofWallace, she presently recalled her former duplicity, and with asurprised and uncomprehending air replied, "I do not understand whatyou mean, Donald." Then turning to Lord Ruthven, who stood uneasilyviewing this scene, "How," cried she, "can my lord discover spleen inmy maternal anxiety respecting the daughter of the husband I love andhonor above all the earth? But men do not properly estimate femalereserve. Any woman would say with me, that to faint at the sight ofSir William Wallace was declaring an emotion not to be revealed beforeso large a company! a something from which men might not draw the mostagreeable inferences."

  "It only declared surprise, madam," cried Murray, "the surprise of amodest and ingenuous mind that did not expect to recognize its mountainfriend in the person of the protector of Scotland."

  Lady mar put up her lip, and turning to the still silent Lord Ruthven,again addressed him. "Stepmothers, my lord," said she, "have hardduties to perform; and when we think we fulfill them best, oursuspicious husband comes with a magician's wand, and turns all our goodto evil."

  "Array your good in a less equivocal garb, my dear Joanna," answeredthe Earl of Mar, rather ashamed of the hasty words which indeed thesuspicion of a moment had drawn from his lips; "judge my child by herusual conduct, not by an accidental appearance of inconsistency, and Ishall ever be grateful for your solicitude. But in this instance,though she might betray the weakness of an enfeebled constitution, itwas certainly not the frailty of a love-sick heart."

  "Judge me by your own rule, dear Donald," cried his wife, blandishlykissing his forehead, "and you will not again wither the mother of yourboy with such a look as I just now received!"

  Glad to see this reconciliation, Lord Ruthven made a sign to Murray,and they withdrew together.

  Meanwhile, the honest earl surrendering his whole heart to the wiles ofhis wife, poured into her not inattentive ear all his wishes for Helen:all the hopes to which her late meeting with Wallace, and their presentrecognition, had given birth. "I had rather have that man my son,"said he, "than see my beloved daughter placed on an imperial throne."

  "I do not doubt it," thought Lady Mar; "for there are many emperors,but only one William Wallace!" However, her sentiments she confined toherself: neither assenting nor dissenting, but answering so as tosecure the confidence by which she hoped to traverse his designs.

  According to the inconsistency of the wild passion that possessed her,one moment she saw nothing but despair before her, and in the next itseemed impossible that Wallace should in heart be proof against hertenderness and charms. She remembered Murray's words: that he was sentto set her free, and that recollection reawakened every hope. SirWilliam had placed Lord Mar in a post as dangerous as honorable.Should the Southrons return in any force into Scotland, Stirling mustbe one of the first places they would attack. The earl was brave, buthis wounds had robbed him of much of his martial vigor. Might she notthen be indeed set free? And might not Wallace, on such an event, meanto repay her for all those sighs he now sought to repress from ideas ofa virtue which she could admire, but had not the courage to imitate?

  These wicked meditations passed even at the side of her husband, and,with a view to further every wish of her intoxicated imagination, shedetermined to spare no exertion to secure the support of her ownfamily, which, when agreeing in one point, was the most powerful of anyin the kingdom. Her father, the Earl of Strathearn, was now amisanthrope recluse in the Orkneys; she therefore did not calculate onhis assistance, but she resolved on requesting Wallace to put the namesof her cousins, Athol and Badenoch, into the exchange of prisoners, forby their means she expected to accomplish all she hoped. On Mar'sprobable speedy death she so long thought that she regarded it as acertainty, and so pressed forward to the fulfillment of her love andambition with as much eagerness as if he were already in his grave.

  She recollected that Wallace had not this time thrown her from hisbosom, when in the transports of her joy she cast herself upon it; heonly gently whispered, "Beware, lady, there are those present who maythink my services too richly paid." With these words he hadrelinquished her to her husband. But in them she saw nothing inimicalto her wishes; it was a ca
ution, not a reproof, and had not his warmeraddress to Helen conjured up all the fiends of jealousy, she would havebeen perfectly satisfied with these grounds of hope-slippery thoughthey were, like the sands of the sea.

  Eager, therefore, to break away from Lord Mar's projects relating tohis daughter, at the first decent opportunity she said: "We willconsider more of this, Donald. I now resign you to the duties of youroffice, and shall pay mine to her, whose interest is our own."

  Lord Mar pressed her hand to his lips, and they parted.

  Prior to Wallace's visit to the citadel, which was to be at an earlyhour the same morning, a list of the noble prisoners was put into hishand. Edwin pointed to the name of Lord Montgomery.

  "That," said he, "is the name of the person you already esteem; but howwill you regard him when I tell you who he was?"

  Wallace turned on him an inquiring look.

  "You have often spoken to me of Sir Gilbert Hambledon-"

  "And this be he!" interrupted Wallace.

  Edwin recounted the manner of the earl discovering himself, and how hecame to bear that title. Wallace listened in silence and when hisyoung friend ended, sighed heavily, "I will thank him," was all hesaid; and rising, he proceeded to the chamber of Montgomery. Even atthat early hour it was filled with his officers come to inquire aftertheir late commander's health. Wallace advanced to the couch, and theSouthrons drew back. The expression of his countenance told the earlthat he now knew him.

  "Noblest of Englishmen!" cried Wallace, in a low voice, "I come toexpress a gratitude to you, as lasting as the memory of the actionwhich gave it birth. Your generous conduct to all that was dearest tome on earth was that night in the garden of Ellerslie witnessed bymyself. I was in the tree above your head, and nothing but aconviction that I should embarrass the honor of my wife's protectorcould at that moment have prevented my springing from my covert anddeclaring my gratitude on the spot.

  "Receive my thanks now, inadequate as they are to express what I feel.But you offered me your heart on the field of Cambus-Kenneth; I willtake that as a generous intimation how I may best acknowledge my debt.Receive then my never-dying friendship, the eternal gratitude of myimmortal spirit."

  The answer of Montgomery could not but refer to the same subject, andby presenting the tender form of his wife and her devoted love, almostvisibly again before her widowed husband, nearly forced open thefountain of tears which he had buried deep in his heart; and risingsuddenly, for fear his emotions might betray themselves, he warmlypressed the hand of his English friend, and left the room.

  In the course of the same day the Southron nobles were transported intothe citadel, and the family of Mar removed from the fortress, to takeup their residence in the palace of Snawdoun.