by Jane Porter
CHAPTER LI.
Stirling and Snawdoun.
The few chieftains who had remained on their estates during thesuspense before the battle, from a belief that if the issue provedunfavorable they should be safest amongst their native glens, now camewith numerous trains to greet the return of their victorious regent.The ladies brought forth their most splendid apparel; and the houses ofStirling were hung with tapestry to hail with due respect thebenefactor of the land.
At last the hour arrived when a messenger, whom Lord Mar had sent outfor the purpose, returned on full speed with information that theregent was passing the Carron. At these tidings the animated old earlcalled out his retinue, mounted his coal-black steed, and ordered asumptuous charger to be caparisoned with housings wrought in gold bythe hands of Lady Mar and her ladies. The horse was intended to meetWallace and to bring him into the city. Edwin led it forward. In therear of the Earls Mar and Badenoch came all the chieftains of thecountry, in gallant array. Their ladies, on splendid palfreys,followed the superb car of the Countess of Mar; and, preceding themultitudes of Stirling, left the town a desert. Not a living beingseemed now within its walls except the Southron prisoners, who hadassembled on the top of the citadel to view the return of theirconqueror.
Helen remained in Snawdoun, believing that she was the only soul leftin that vast palace. She sat musing on the extraordinary fate ofWallace, a few months ago a despised outlaw, at this moment the idol ofthe nation! And then turned to herself--the wooed of many a gallantheart, and now devoted to one, whom, like the sun, she must evercontemplate with admiration, while he should pass on above her sphere,unconscious of the devotion which filled her soul.
The distant murmur of the populace thronging out of the streets towardthe Carse, gradually subsided; and at last she was left in profoundsilence. "He must be near," thought she, "he whose smile is moreprecious to me than the adulation of all the world besides, now smilesupon every one! All look upon him, all hear him, but I--and I--ah,Wallace, did Marion love thee dearer?" As her devoted heart demandedthis question, her tender and delicate soul shrunk within herself, anddeeply blushing, she hid her face in her hands. A pause of a fewminutes--and a sound as if the skies were rent, tore the air; a noise,like the distant roar of the sea, succeeded; and soon after, the shoutsof an approaching multitude shook the palace to its foundations. Helenstarted on her feet; the tumult of voices augmented; the sound ofcoming squadrons thundered over the ground. At this instant every bellin the city began its peals, and the door of Helen's room suddenlyopened--Lady Ruthven hurried in. "Helen," cried she, "I would notdisturb you before; but as you were to be absent, I would not make onein Lady Mar's train; and I come to enjoy with you the return of ourbeloved regent!"
Helen did not speak, but her eloquent countenance amply told her auntwhat were the emotions of her heart; and Lady Ruthven taking her hand,attempted to draw her toward an oriel window which opened to a view ofthe High Street; but Helen, shrinking from the movement, begged to beexcused. "I hear enough," said she, "my dear aunt; sights like theseovercome me; let me remain where I am."
Lady Ruthven was going to remonstrate, when the loud huzzas of thepeople and soldiers, accompanied by acclamations of "Long livevictorious Wallace, our prince and king!" struck Helen back into herseat, and Lady Ruthven darting toward the window, cried aloud, "Hecomes, Helen, he comes! His bonnet off his noble brow. Oh! howprincely does he look!--and now he bows. Ah, they shower flowers uponhim from the houses on each side of the street; how sweetly he smilesand bows to the ladies as they lean from their windows! Come, Helen,come, if you would see the perfection of majesty and modesty united inone!"
Helen did not move; but Lady Ruthven stretching out her arm, in amoment had drawn her within view of Wallace. She saw him attended as aconqueror and a king; but with the eyes of a benefactor and a brotherhe looked on all around. The very memory of war seemed to vanishbefore his presence, for all there was love and gentleness. Helen drewa quick sigh, and closing her eyes, dropped against the arras. She nowheard the buzz of many voices, the rolling peal of acclamations, butshe distinguished nothing; her senses were in tumults; and had not LadyRuthven seen her disorder, she would have fallen motionless to thefloor. The good matron was not so forgetful of the feelings of avirtuous youthful heart, not to have discovered something of what waspassing in that of her niece. From the moment in which she hadsuspected that Wallace had made a serious impression there, she droppedall trifling with his name. And now that she saw the distressingeffects of that impression, with revulsed feelings she took thefainting Helen in her arms, and laying her on a couch, by the aid ofvolatiles restored her to recollection. Seeing she recovered, she madeno observation on this emotion, and Helen leaned her head and wept uponthe bosom of her aunt. Lady Ruthven's tears silently mingled withhers; but she said within herself, "Wallace cannot be always insensibleto so much excellence!"
As the acclaiming populace passed the palace on their way to thecitadel, whither they were escorting their regent, Helen remained quietin her leaning position; but when the noise died away into hoarsemurmurs, she raised her head, and glancing on the tear-bathed face ofher affectionate aunt, said, with a forced smile, "My more than mother,fear me not! I am grateful to Sir William Wallace; I venerate him asthe Southrons do their St. George, but I need not your tender pity."As she spoke, her beautiful lip quivered, but her voice was steady.
"My sweetest Helen," replied Lady Ruthven, "how can I pity her for whomI hope everything."
"Hope nothing for me," returned Helen, understanding by her looks whather tongue had left unsaid, "but to see me a vestal here, and a saintin heaven."
"What can my Helen mean?" replied Lady Ruthven; "who would talk ofbeing a vestal with such a heart in view as that of the Regent ofScotland? and that it will be yours, does not his eloquent gratitudedeclare?"
"No, my aunt," answered Helen, casting down her eyes; "gratitude iseloquent where love would be silent. I am not so sacrilegious as towish that Sir William Wallace should transfer that heart to me, whichthe blood of Marion forever purchased. No; should these people compelhim to be their king, I will retire to some monastery, and foreverdevote myself to God and to prayers for my country."
The holy composure which spread over the countenance and figure ofHelen, as she uttered this, seemed to extend itself to the before eagermind of Lady Ruthven; she pressed her tenderly in her arms, and kissingher: "Gentlest of human beings!" cried she, "whatever be thy lot, itmust be happy."
"Whatever it be," answered Helen, "I know that there is an Almightyreason for it; I shall understand it in the world to come, and Icheerfully acquiesce in this."
"Oh! that the ears of Wallace could hear thee!" cried Lady Ruthven.
"They will, some time, my gracious aunt," answered she, with an angelicsmile.
"When? where, dearest?" asked Lady Ruthven, hoping that she began tohave fairer anticipations for herself. Helen answered not; butpointing to the sky, rose from her seat with an air as if she werereally going to ascend to those regions which seemed best fitted toreceive her pure spirit. Lady Ruthven gazed on her in speechlessadmiration; and without a word, or an impeding motion, felt Helensoftly kiss her hand, and with another seraphic smile, glide gentlyfrom her into her closet, and close the door.
Far different were the emotions which agitated the bosoms of everyperson present at the entry of Sir William Wallace. All but himselfregarded it as the triumph of the King of Scotland. And while some ofthe nobles exulted in their future monarch, the major part felt thedemon of envy so possess their souls, that they who, before hisarrival, were ready to worship his name, now looked on the empire towhich he seemed borne on the hearts of the people, with a rancorousjealousy, which from that moment vowed his humiliation, or the fall ofScotland. The very tongues which in general acclaim, called loudest,"Long live our king!" belonged to those who, in the secret recesses oftheir souls, swore to work his ruin, and to make these full-blownhonors the means of his des
truction. He had in vain tried to checkwhat his moderate desires deemed the extravagant gratitude of thepeople; but finding his efforts only excited still louderdemonstrations of their love, and knowing himself immovable in hisresolution to remain a subject of the crown, he rode on composedlytoward the citadel.
Those ladies who had not retired from the cavalcade to hail theirregent a second time from their windows, preceded him in Lady Mar'strain to the hall, where she had caused a sumptuous feast to be spreadto greet his arrival. Two seats were placed under a canopy of cloth ofgold, at the head of the board. The countess stood there in all thesplendor of her ideal rank, and would have seated Wallace in the royalchair on her right hand, but he drew back.
"I am only a guest in this citadel," returned he; "and it would illbecome me to take the place of the master of the banquet."
As he spoke, he looked on Lord Mar, who, understanding the language ofhis eyes, which never said the thing he would not, without a word tookthe kingly seat, and so disappointed the countess. By this refusal shestill found herself as no more than the Governor of Stirling's wife,when she had hoped a compliance with her cunning arrangement would havehinted to all that she was to be the future queen of their acknowledgedsovereign. They knew Wallace, saw his unshaken resolution in thisapparently slight action; but others who read his design in their ownambition, translated it differently, and deemed it only an artfulrejection of the appendages of royalty, to excite the impatience of thepeople to crown him in reality.
As the ladies took their seats at the board, Edwin, who stood by thechair of his beloved lord, whispered:
"Our Helen is not here."
Lady Mar overheard the name of Helen, but she could not distinguishWallace's reply; and fearing that some second assignation of more happytermination than that of the chapel might be designed, she determinedthat if Edwin were to be the bearer of a secret correspondence betweenthe man she loved and the daughter she hated, to deprive them speedilyof so ready an assistant.