The Scottish Chiefs Part 40

"These, my friends and countrymen, would be my reasons for rejecting the crown did my ambition point that way. But as I have no joy in t.i.tles, no pleasure in any power that does not spring hourly from the heart, let my reign be in your bosoms; and with the appellation of your fellow-soldier, your friend! I will fight for you, I will conquer for you--I will live or die!"

"This man," whispered Lord Buchan, who having arrived in the rear of the troops on the appearance of Wallace, advanced within hearing of what he said-"this man shows more cunning in repulsing a crown than most are capable of exerting to obtain one."

"Ay, but let us see," returned the Earl of March, who accompanied him, "whether it be not Caesar's coyness; he thrice refused the purple, and yet he died Emperor of the Romans!"

"He that offers me a crown," returned Buchan, "shall never catch me playing the coquette with its charms. I warrant you, I would embrace the lovely mischief in the first presentation." A shout rent the air.

"What is that?" cried he, interrupting himself.

"He has followed your advice," answered March, with a satirical smile, "it is the preliminary trumpet to long live King William the Great!"

Lord Buchan spurred forward to Scrymgeour, whom he knew, and inquired, "where the new king was to be crowned? We have not yet to thank him for the possession of Scone!"

"True," cried Sir Alexander, comprehending the sarcasm; "but did Sir William Wallace accept the prayers of Scotland, neither Scone nor any other spot in the kingdom would refuse the place of his coronation."

"Not accept them!" replied Buchan; "then why the shout? Do the changelings rejoice in being refused?"

"When we cannot gain the alt.i.tude of our desires," returned the knight, "it is yet subject for thankfulness when we reach a step toward it.

Sir William Wallace has consented to be considered as the protector of the kingdom; to hold it for the rightful sovereign, under the name of regent."

"Ay," cried March, "he has only taken a mistress instead of a wife; and, trust me, when once he has got her into his arms, it will not be all the gray beards in Scotland that can wrest her thence again. I marvel to see how men can be cajoled and call the visor virtue."

Scrymgeour had not waited for this reply of the insolent earl, and Buchan answered him: "I care not," said he; "whoever keeps my castle over my head, and my cellars full, is welcome to reign over John of Buchan. So onward, my gallant Cospatrick, to make our bow to royalty in masquerade."

When these scorners approached, they found Wallace standing uncovered in the midst of his happy n.o.bles. There was not a man present to whom he had not given proofs of his divine commission; each individual was s.n.a.t.c.hed from a state of oppression and disgrace, and placed in security and honor. With overflowing grat.i.tude, they all thronged around him; and the young, the isolated Wallace, found a nation waiting on his nod; the hearts of half a million of people offered to his hand to turn and wind them as he pleased. No crown sat on his brows; but the bright halo of true glory beamed from his G.o.dlike countenance. It even checked the arrogant smiles with which the haughty March and the voluptuous Buchan came forward to mock him with their homage.

As the near relations of Lady Mar, he received them with courtesy; but one glance of his eye penetrated to the hollowness of both; and then, remounting his steed, the stirrups of which were held by Edwin and Ker, he touched the head of the former with his hand; "Follow me, my friend; I now go to pay my duty to your mother. For you, my lords," said he, turning to the n.o.bles around, "I shall hope to meet you at noon in the citadel, where we must consult together on further prompt movements.

Nothing with us can be considered as won till all is gained."

The chieftains, with bows, acquiesced in his mandate, and fell back toward their troops. But the foremost ranks of those brave fellows, having heard much of what had pa.s.sed, were so inflamed with admiration of their regent, that they rushed forward, and collecting in crowds around his horse, and in his path, some pressed to kiss his hand, and others his way, shouting and calling down blessings upon him, till he stopped at the gate of Snawdoun.

Chapter x.x.xVII.

Snawdoun Palace.

Owing to the multiplicity of affairs which engaged Wallace's attention after the capture of Stirling, the ladies of Mar had not seen him since his first visit to the citadel. The countess pa.s.sed this time in writing her dispatches to the numerous lords of her house, both in Scotland and in England; and by her subtle arguments she completely persuaded her husband of the cogency of putting the names of Lord Athol and Lord Badenoch into the list of n.o.ble prisoners he should request.

When this was proposed to Wallace, he recollected the conduct of Athol at Montrose; and, being alone with Lord Mar, he made some objections against inviting him back into the country. But the earl, who was prepared by his wife to overcome every obstacle in the way of her kinsman's return, answered, "That he believed, from the representations he had received of the private opinions both of Badenoch and Athol, that their treason was more against Baliol than the kingdom; and that now that prince was irretrievably removed, he understood they would be glad to take a part in its recovery."

"That may be the case with the Earl of Badenoch," replied Wallace, "but something less friendly to Scotland must be in the breast of the man who could betray Lord Douglas into the hands of his enemies."

"So I should have thought," replied the earl, "had not the earnestness with which my wife pleads his cause convinced me she knows more of his mind than she chooses to intrust me with, and therefore I suppose his conduct to Douglas arose from personal pique."

Though these explanations did not at all raise the absent lords in his esteem, yet to appear hostile to the return of Lady Mar's relations would be a violence to her, which, in proportion as Wallace shrunk from the guilty affection she was so eager to lavish upon him, he was averse to committing; wis.h.i.+ng, by showing her every proper consideration, to lead her to apprehend the turpitude of her conduct; by convincing her that his abhorrence of her advances had its origin in principle, rather than from personal repugnance to herself; and so she might see the foulness of her crime, and be recalled to virtue. He was therefore not displeased to have this opportunity of obliging her; and, as he hoped that amongst so many warm friends a few cool ones could not do much injury, he gave in the names of Badenoch and Athol, with those of Lord Douglas, Sir William Maitland (the only son of the venerable knight of Thirlestane), Sir John Monteith, and many other brave Scots.

For these, the Earls de Warenne, De Valence, and Montgomery, the Barons Hilton and Blenkinsopp, and others of note, were to exchanged. Those of lesser consequence, man for man, were to be returned for Scots of the same degree.

In arranging preliminaries to effect the speedy return of the Scots from England (who must be known to have arrived on the borders, before the English would be permitted to cross them); in writing dispatches on this subject, and on others of equal moment, had pa.s.sed the time between the surrender of Stirling and the hour when Wallace was called to the plain, to receive the offered homage of his grateful country.

Impatient to behold again the object of her fond machinations, Lady Mar hastened to the window of her apartment, when the shouts in the streets informed her of the approach of Wallace. The loud huzzas, accompanied by the acclamations of "Our protector and prince!" seemed already to bind her brows with her antic.i.p.ated diadem, and for a moment, vanity lost the image of love in the purple with which she enveloped it.

Her ambitious vision was disturbed by the crowd rus.h.i.+ng forward; the gates were thronged with people of every age and s.e.x, and Wallace himself appeared on his white charger, with his helmet off, bowing and smiling upon the populace. There was a mild effulgence in his eye; a divine benevolence in his countenance, as his parted lips showed the brightness of his smile, which seemed to speak of happiness within, of joy to all around. She hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed a chaplet of flowers form her head, and threw it from the window. Wallace looked up; his brow and his smile were then directed to her! but they were altered. The moment he met the congratulation of her eager eyes, he remembered what would have been the soft welcome of his Marion's under the like circ.u.mstance!

But that tender eye was closed--that ear was shut, to whom he would have wished these plaudits to have given rapture--and they were now as nothing to him. The countess saw not what was pa.s.sing in his mind, but kissing her hand to him, disappeared from the window when he entered the palace.

Another eye beside Lady Mar's had witnessed the triumphant entry of Wallace. Triumphant in the true sense of the word; for he came a victor over the hearts of men; he came, not attended by his captives won in the war, but by the people he had blessed, by throngs calling him preserver, father, friend, and prince! By every t.i.tle which can inspire the soul of man with the happy consciousness of fulfilling his emba.s.sy here below.

Helen was this witness. She had pa.s.sed the long interval, since she had seen Wallace, in the state of one in a dream. The glance had been so transient, that every succeeding hour seemed to lessen the evidence of her senses that she had really beheld him. It appeared impossible to her that the man whom her thoughts had hitherto dwelt on as the widowed husband of Marion, as the hero whom sorrow had wholly dedicated to patriotism and to Heaven, should ever awaken in her breast feelings which would seem to break like a sacrilegious host upon the holy consecration of his. Once she had contemplated this idea with the pensive impressions of one leaning over the grave of a hero; and she could then turn as if emerging from the glooms of sepulchral monuments to upper day, to the image of her unknown knight! she could then blamelessly recollect the matchless graces of his figure! the n.o.ble soul that breathed from his every word and action; the sweet, though thoughtful, serenity that sat on his brow! "There," whispered she to herself, "are the lofty meditations of a royal mind, devising the freedom of his people. When that is effected, how will the perfect suns.h.i.+ne break out from that face! Ah! how blest must Scotland be under his reign, when all will be light, virtue, and joy!" Bliss hovered like an angel over the image of this imaginary Bruce; while sorrow, in mourning weeds, seemed ever dropping tears, when any circ.u.mstance recalled that of the real Wallace.

Such was the state of Helen's thoughts, when in the moment beholding the chief Ellerslie in the citadel she recognized, in his expected melancholy form, the resplendent countenance of him whom she supposed the prince of Scotland. That two images so opposite should at once unite; that in one bosom should be mingled all the virtues she had believed peculiar to each, struck her with overwhelming amazement. But when she recovered from her short swoon, and found Wallace at her feet; when she felt that all the devotion her heart had hitherto paid to the simple idea of virtue alone would now be attracted to that glorious mortal, in whom all human excellence appeared summed up, she trembled under an emotion that seemed to rob her of herself, and place a new principle of being within her.

All was so extraordinary, so unlooked for, so bewildering, that from the moment in which she had retired in such a paroxysm of highly-wrought feelings from her first interview in the gallery with him, she became altogether like a person in a trance; and hardly answering her aunt, when she then led her up the stairs, only complained she was ill, and threw herself upon a couch.

At the very time that her heart told her in a language she could not misunderstand, that she irrevocably loved this too glorious, too amiable Wallace, it as powerfully denounced to her, that she had devoted herself to one who must ever be to her as a being of air. No word of sympathy would ever whisper felicity to her heart; no--the flame that was within her (which she found would be immortal as the vestal fires which resemble its purity) must burn there unknown; hidden, but not smothered.

"Were this a canonized saint," cried she, as she laid her throbbing head upon her pillow, "how gladly should I feel these emotions! For, could I not fall down and wors.h.i.+p him? Could I not think it a world of bliss, to live forever within the influence of his virtues; looking at him, listening to him, rejoicing in his praises, happy in his happiness! Yes, though I were a peasant girl, and he not know that Helen Mar even existed! And I may live thus," said she; "and I may steal some portion of the rare lot that was Lady Marion's-to die for such a man! Ah! could I be in Edwin's place and wait upon his smiles!

But that may not be; I am a woman, and formed to suffer in silence and seclusion. But even at a distance, brave Wallace, my spirit shall watch over you in the form of this Edwin; I will teach him a double care of the light of Scotland. And my prayers, also, shall follow you; so that when we meet in heaven, the Blessed Virgin shall say with what hosts of angels her intercessions, through my vigils have surrounded thee!"

Chapter x.x.xVIII.

The Bower, or Ladies' Apartment.

Thus did Lady Helen commune with her own strangely-affected heart; sometimes doubting the evidence of her eyes; then, convinced of their fidelity, striving to allay the tumults in her mind. She seldom appeared from her own rooms. And such retirement was not questioned, her father being altogether engaged at the citadel, the countess absorbed in her own speculations, and Lady Ruthven alone interrupted the solitude of her niece by frequent visits. Little suspecting the cause of Helen's prolonged indisposition, she generally selected Wallace for the subject of conversation. She descanted with enthusiasm on the rare perfection of his character; told her all that Edwin had related of his actions from the taking of Dumbarton to the present moment; and then bade Helen remark the miracle of such wisdom, valor, and goodness being found in one so young and handsome.

"So, my child," added she, "depend on it; before he was Lady Marion's husband he must have heard sighs enough from the fairest in our land to have turned the wits of half the male world. There is something in his very look, did you meet him on the heath without better barg than a shepherd's plaid, sufficient to declare him the n.o.blest of men; and, methinks, would excuse the gentlest lady in the land for leaving hall and bower to share his sheep-cote. But, alas!" and then the playful expression of her countenance altered, "he is now for none on earth!"

With these words she turned the subject to the confidential hours he pa.s.sed with the young adopted brother of his heart. Every fond emotion seemed then centered in his wife and child. When Lady Ruthven repeated his pathetic words to Edwin, she wept; she even sobbed, and paused to recover; while the deep and silent tears which flowed from the heart to the eyes of Lady Helen bathed the side of the couch on which she leaned. "Alas!" cried Lady Ruthven, "that a man, so formed to grace every relation in life--so n.o.ble a creature in all respects--so fond of a husband--so full of parental tenderness--that he should be deprived of the wife on whom he doted; that he should be cut off from all hope of posterity; that when he shall die, nothing will be left of William Wallace--breaks my heart!"

"Ah, my aunt," cried Helen, raising her head with animation, "will he not leave behind him the liberty of Scotland? That is an offspring worthy of his G.o.d-like soul."

"True, my dear Helen; but had you ever been a parent, you would know that no achievements, however great, can heal the wound made in a father's heart by the loss of a beloved child. And though Sir William Wallace never saw the infant, ready to bless his arms, yet it perished in the bosom of its mother; and that circ.u.mstance must redouble his affliction; horribly does it enhance the cruelty of the deed!"

"He has in all things been a direful sacrifice," returned Helen; "and with G.o.d alone dwells the power to wipe the tears from his heart."

"They flow not from his eyes," answered her aunt; "but deep, deep is the grief that, my Edwin says, is settled there."

While Lady Ruthven was uttering these words, shouts in the street made her pause; and soon recognizing the name of Wallace sounding from the lips of the rejoicing mult.i.tude, she turned to Helen: "Here comes our deliverer!" cried she, taking her by the hand; "we have not seen him since the first day of our liberty. It will do you good, as it will me, to look on his beneficent face!"

She obeyed the impulse of her aunt's arm, and reached the window just as he pa.s.sed into the courtyard. Helen's soul seemed rus.h.i.+ng from her eyes. "Ah! it is indeed he!" thought she; "no dream, no illusion, but his very self."

He looked up; but not on her side of the building; it was to the window of Lady Mar; and as he bowed, he smiled. All the charms of that smile struck upon the soul of Helen; and, hastily retreating, she sunk breathless into a seat.