Chapter LXIV.
Forest of Vincennes.
Avoiding the frequented track to Paris, Wallace (to whom Grimsby wasnow a valuable auxiliary, he being well acquainted with the country)took a sequestered path by the banks of the Marne, and entered theForest of Vincennes just as the moon set. Having ridden far, andwithout cessation, the old soldier proposed their alighting, to allowthe lady an opportunity of reposing awhile under the trees. Helen wasindeed nearly exhausted, though the idea of her happy flight, byinspiring her with a strength which surprised even herself, for a longtime had kept her insensible to fatigue. While her friends pressed onwith a speed which allowed no more conversation than occasionalinquiries of how she bore the journey, the swiftness of the motion andthe rapidity of the events which had brought her from the mostfrightful of situations into one the dearest to her secret andhardly-breathed wishes, so bewildered her faculties, that hse almostfeared she was only enjoying one of those dreams which since hercaptivity had often mocked her with the image of Wallace and herrelease; and every moment she dreaded to awake and find herself still aprisoner to De Valence. "I want no rest," replied she to theobservation of Grimsby; "I could feel none till we are beyond thepossibility of being overtaken by my enemy."
"You are as safe in this wood, lady," returned the soldier, "as you canbe in any place betwixt Galliard and Paris. It is many miles from thechateau, and lies in so remote a direction, that were the earl topursue us, I am sure he would never choose this path."
"And did he even come up with us, dear Lady Helen," said Wallace,"could you fear, when with your father's friend?"
"It is for my father's friend I fear," gently answered she; "I can haveno dread for myself while under such protection."
A very little more persuaded Helen; and Grimsby having spread his cloakon the grass, Wallace lifted her from her horse. As soon as she puther foot to the ground her head grew giddy, and she must have fallenbut for the supporting arm of her watchful friend. He carried her tothe couch prepared by the good soldier, and laid her on it. Grimsbyhad been more provident than they could have expected; for aftersaddling the second pair of horses, he had returned into the hall forhis cloak, and taking an undrawn flask of wine from the seneschal'ssupper-table, put it into his vest. This he now produced, and Wallacemade Helen drink some of it. The cordial soon revived her, and sinkingon her pillow of leaves, she soon found the repose her wearied framedemanded and induced. For fear of disturbing her not a word wasspoken. Wallace watched at her head, and Bruce sat at her feet, whileGrimsby remained with the horses, as a kind of outpost.
Sweet was her sleep, for the thoughts with which she sunk into slumberoccupied her dreams. Still she was riding by the side of Wallace,listening to his voice, cheering her through the lengthening way! Butsome wild animal in its nightly prowl crossing before the horses, theybegan to snort and plunge, and though the no less terrified alarmerfled far away, it was with difficulty the voice and management ofGrimsby could quiet them. The noise suddenly awoke Helen, and herscattered faculties not immediately recollecting themselves, she feltan instant impression that all had indeed been a dream, and starting inaffright, she exclaimed, "Where am I? Wallace, where art thou?"
"Here!" cried he, pressing her hand with fraternal tenderness; "I amhere; you are safe with your friend and brother."
Her heart beat with a terror which this assurance could hardly subdue.At last she said in an agitated voice, "Forgive me if my senses are alittle strayed! I have suffered so much, and this release seems somiraculous, that at moments I hardly believe it real. I wish daylightwere come that I might be convinced." When she had uttered thesewords, she suddenly stopped, and then added, "But I am very weak totalk thus; I believe my late terrors have disordered my head."
"What you feel, lady, is only natural," observed Bruce; "I experiencedthe same when I first regained my liberty, and found myself on the roadto join Sir William Wallace. Dear, indeed, is liberty; but dearer isthe friend whose virtues make our recovered freedom sure."
"Who speaks to me?" said Helen, in a low voice to Wallace, and raisingher head from that now supporting arm, on which she felt she did buttoo much delight to lean.
"One," answered Wallace, in the same tone, "who is not to be publiclyknown until occasion demands it; one who, I trust in God, will one dayseal the happiness of Scotland--Robert Bruce."
That name which, when in her idea it belonged to Wallace, used to raisesuch emotions in her breast, she now heard with an indifference thatsurprised her. But who could be more to Scotland than Wallace hadbeen? All that was in the power of patriot or of king to do for hiscountry, he had done; and what then was Bruce in her estimation? Onewho, basking in pleasures while his country suffered, allowed a bravesubject to breast, to overthrow every danger, before he put himselfforward? and now he appeared to assume a throne, which, though hisright by birth, he had most justly forfeited, by neglecting the dutiesindispensable in the heir of so great and oppressed a kingdom! Thesewould have been her thoughts of him; but Wallace called this Bruce hisfriend! and the few words she had heard him speak, being full ofgratitude to her deliverer, that engaged her esteem.
The answer, however, which she made to the reply of Wallace wasspontaneous, and it struck upon the heart of Bruce. "How long," saidshe, "have you promised Scotland that it should see that day!"
"Long, to my grief, Lady Helen," rejoined Bruce; "I would say to myshame--had I ever intentionally erred toward my country; but ignoranceof her state, and of the depth of Edward's treachery, was my crime. Ionly required to be shown the right path to pursue it, and Sir WilliamWallace came to point the way. My soul, lady, is not unworthy thedestiny to which he calls me." Had there been light, she would haveseen the flush of conscious virtue that overspread his fine countenancewhile he spoke; but the words were sufficient to impress her with thatrespect he deserved, and which her answer showed.
"My father taught me to consider the Bruce the rightful heirs ofScotland; and now that I see the day which he so often wished to hail,I cannot but regard it as the termination of Scotland's woes. Oh! hadit been before! perhaps--" Here she paused, for tears stopped herutterance.
"You think," rejoined Bruce, "that much bloodshed might have beenspared! But, dear lady, poison not the comfort of your life by thatbelief. No man exists who could have effected so much for Scotland inso short a time, and with so little loss, as our Wallace has done.Who, like him, makes mercy the companion of war, and compels even hisenemies to emulate the clemency he shows? Fewer have been slain on theScottish side during the whole of his struggle with Edward, than werelost by Baliol on the fatal day of Dunbar. Then, no quarter was given;and too many of the wounded were left to perish on the field. But withWallace, life was granted to all who asked; the wounded enemy and thefriend were alike succored by him. This conduct provoked the jealousyof the Southron generals, not to be surpassed in generosity, and thuscomparatively few have been lost. But if in that number some of ournoblest chiefs, we must be resigned to yield to God what is his own;may, we must be grateful, daughter of the gallant Mar, for the mannerin which they were taken. They fell in the arms of true glory, likeparents defending their offspring; while others--my grandfather andfather--perished with broken hearts, in unavailing lamentations thatthey could not share the fate of those who died for Scotland."
"But you, dear Bruce," returned Wallace, "will live for her; will teachthose whose hearts have bled in her cause, to find a balm for everywound in her prosperity."
Helen smiled through her tears at those words. They spoke the heavenlyconsolation which had descended on her mourning spirit. "If Scotlandbe to rest under the happy reign of Robert Bruce, then envy cannotagain assail Sir William Wallace, and my father has not shed his bloodin vain. His beautified spirit, with those of my uncles Bothwell andRuthven, will rejoice in such a peace, and I shall enjoy it tofelicity, in so sacred a participation." Surprised at her associatingthe name of Lord Ruthven with those who had fallen, Wallace inte
rruptedher with the assurance of her uncle's safety. The Scottish chiefseasily understood that De Valence had given her the oppositeintelligence, to impress her with an idea that she was friendless, andso precipitate her into the determination of becoming his wife. Butshe did not repeat to her brave auditors all the arguments he had usedto shake her impregnable heart--impregnable, because a principle keptguard there, which neither flattery nor ambition could dispossess. Hehad told her that the very day in which she would give him her hand,King Edward would send him viceroy into Scotland, where she shouldreign with all the power and magnificence of a queen. He was handsome,accomplished, and adored her; but Helen could not love him whom shecould not esteem, for she knew he was libertine, base and cruel. Thathe loved her affected her not; she could only be sensible to anaffection placed on worthy foundations; and he who trampled on allvirtues in his own actions, could not desire them when seen in her; hetherefore must love her for the fairness of her form alone; and toplace any value on such affection was to grasp the wind.
Personal flatteries having made no impression on Helen, ambitiousprojects were attempted with equal failure. Had De Valence been lordof the eastern and western empires, could he have made her the envy andadmiration of a congregated world, all would have been in vain; she hadseen and known the virtues of Sir William Wallace; and from that hour,all that was excellent in man, and all that was desirable on earth,seemed to her to be in him summed up. "On the barren heath," said sheto herself, "in some desert island, with only thee and thy virtues, howhappy could be Helen Mar! how great! For, to share thy heart--thynoble, glorious heart--would be a bliss, a seal of honor from Heaven,with which no terrestrial elevation could compare!" Then would shesigh; capable of appreciating and loving above all earthly things thematchless virtues of Sir William Wallace. On the very evening of thenight in question in which he had so unexpectedly appeared to releaseher, her thoughts had been engaged in this train: "Yes," cried she toherself, "even in loving thy perfections there is such enjoyment, thatI would rather be as I am--what others might call the hopeless Helen,than the loving and beloved of any other man on earth. In thee I lovevirtue; and the imperishable sentiment will bless me in the world tocome." With these thoughts she had fallen asleep; she dreamed that shecalled on her father, on Wallace to save her, and on opening her eyes,she had found him indeed near.
Every word which this almost adored friend now said to comfort her withregard to her own immediate losses, to assure her of the peace ofScotland, should Heaven bless the return of Bruce, took root in hersoul, and sprung up into resignation and happiness. She listened tothe plans of Wallace and of Bruce to effect their great enterprise, andthe hours of the night passed to her not only in repose, but inenjoyment. Wallace, though pleased with the interest she took in eventhe minutest details of their design, became fearful of overtasking herweakened frame; he whispered Bruce to gradually drop the conversation;and, as it died away, slumber again stole over her eyelids.
The dawn had spread far over the sky while she yet slept. Wallace satcontemplating her, and the now sleeping Bruce, who had alsoimperceptibly sunk to rest. Various and anxious were his meditations.He had hardly seen seven-and-twenty years, yet so had he been tried inthe vicissitudes of life, that he felt as if he had lived a century;and instead of looking on the lovely Helen as on one whose charms mightclaim a lover's lovely Helen as on one whose charms might claim alover's wishes in his breast, he regarded her with sentiments more likeparental tenderness. That, indeed, seemed the affection which nowreigned in his bosom. He felt as a father toward Scotland. For everyson and daughter of that harassed country, he was ready to lay down hislife. Edwin he cherished in his heart as he would have done thedearest of his own offspring. It was as a parent to whom a beloved andprodigal son had returned, that he looked on Bruce. But Helen, of allScotland's daughters, she was the most precious in his eyes; set loveaside, and no object without the touch of that all-pervading passioncould he regard with more endearing tenderness than he did Helen Mar.
The shades of night vanished before the bright uprise of the king ofday, and with them her slumbers. She stirred; she awoke. The lark wasthen soaring with shrill cadence over her head; its notes pierced theear of Bruce, and he started on his feet.
"You have allowed me to sleep, Wallace?"
"And why not?" replied he. "Here it was safe for all to have slept.Yet had there been danger, I was at my post to have called you." Hegently smiled as he spoke.
"Whence, my friend," cried Bruce, with a respondent beam on hiscountenance, "did you draw the ethereal essence that animates yourframe? You toil for us--watch for us, and yet you never seem fatigued,never discomposed! How is this? What does it mean?"
"That the soul is immortal," answered Wallace; "that it has a godlikepower given to it by the Giver of all good, even while on earth, tosubdue the wants of this mortal frame. The circumstances in whichHeaven has cast me, have disciplined my circumstances in which Heavenhas cast me, have disciplined my body to obey my mind in all things;and, therefore, when the motives for exertion are strong within me, itis long, very long, before I feel hunger, thirst, or drowsiness.Indeed, while thus occupied, I have often thought it possible for theactivity of the soul so to wear the body, that some day she might findit suddenly fall away from about her spiritual substance, and leave herunencumbered, without having felt the touch of death. And yet, thatElisha-like change," continued Wallace, following up on his ownthought, "could not be till Heaven sees the appointed time. 'Man doesnot live by bread alone;' neither by sleep, nor any species ofrefreshment. His Spirit alone, who created all things, can give us arest, while we keep the strictest vigils; His power can sustain thewasting frame, even in a barren wilderness."
"True," replied Helen, looking timidly up: "but, because Heaven is sogracious as sometimes to work miracles in our favor, surely we are notauthorized to neglect the natural means of obtaining the same end?"
"Certainly not," returned Wallace; "it is not for man to tempt God atany time. Sufficient for us it is to abide by His all-wisedispensations. When we are in circumstances that allow the usual meansof life, it is demanded of us to use them. But when we are broughtinto situations where watching, fasting, and uncommon toils are not tobe avoided, then it is an essential part of our obedience to performour duties to the end, without any regard to the wants which may impedeour way. It is in such an hour, when the soul of man, resolved toobey, looks down on human nature and looks up to God, that he receivesboth the manna and the ever-living waters of heaven. By this faith andperseverance, the uplifted hands of Moses prevailed over Amalek inRephidim; and by the same did the lengthened race of the sun lightJoshua to a double victory in Gibeon."
The morning vapors having dispersed from the opposite plain, and Helenbeing refreshed by her long repose, Wallace seated her on horseback,and they recommenced their journey. The helmets of both chiefs werenow open. Grimsby looked at one and the other; the countenances ofboth assured him that he should find a protector in either. He drewtoward Helen; she noticed his manner, and observing to Wallace that shebelieved the soldier wished to speak with her, checked her horse. Atthis action, Grimsby presumed to ride up, and bowing respectfully,said, that before he followed her to Paris, it would be right for theCount de Valois to know whom he had taken into his train; "one, madam,who has been degraded by King Edward; degraded," added he, "but notdebased; that last disgrace depends on myself; and I should shrink fromyour protection rather than court it, were I indeed vile."
"You have too well proved your integrity, Grimsby," replied Helen, "todoubt it now; but what has the Count de Valois to do with your beingunder my protection? It is not to him we go, but to the French king."
"And is not that knight with the diadem," inquired Grimsby, "the Countde Valois? The servants at Chateau Galliard told me he was so."
Surprised at this, Helen said the knight should answer for himself; andquickening the step of her horse, followed by Grimsby, rejoined hisside.
>
When she informed Wallace of what had passed, he called the soldier toapproach. "Grimsby," said he, "you have claims upon me which shouldinsure you my protection were I even insensible to the honorableprinciples you have just declared to Lady Helen. But, I repeat, I amalready your friend. You have only to speak, and all in my power toserve you shall be done."
"Then, sir," returned he, "as mine is rather a melancholy story, andparts of it have already drawn tears from Lady Helen, if you will honorme with your attention apart from her, I would relate how I fell intodisgrace with my sovereign."
Wallace fell a little back with Grimsby; and while Bruce and Helen rodebriskly forward, he, at a slower pace, prepared to listen to therecapitulation of scenes in which he was only too deeply interested.The soldier began by narrating the fatal events at Ellerslie, which hadcompelled him to leave the army in Scotland. He related that afterquitting the priory of St. Fillan, he reached Guienne, and there servedunder the Earl of Lincoln, until the marriage of Edward with KingPhilip's sister gave the English monarch quiet possession of thatprovince. Grimsby then marched with the rest of the troops to jointheir sovereign in Flanders. There he was recognized, and brought tojudgment by one of Heselrigge's captains; one who had been a particularfavorite with the tyrant from their similarity of disposition, and towhom he had told the mutiny and desertion (as he called it) of Grimsby.But on the presentation of the Earl of Lincoln, his punishment wasmitigated from death to the infliction of a certain number of lashes.This sentence, which the honest officer regarded as worse than the lossof life, was executed. On stripping him at the halberts, Lady Helen'sgift, the diamond clasp, was found hanging round his neck; this wasseized as a proof of some new crime; his general now gave him up; andso inconsistent were his judges, that while they allowed this treason(for so they stigmatized his manly resentment of Heselrigge's cruelty)to prejudice them in this second charge, they would not believe whatwas so probable, that this very jewel had been given to him by a friendof Sir William Wallace in reward for his behavior on that occasion. Heappealed to Edward, but he appealed in vain; and on the following dayhe was adjudged to be broken on the wheel for the supposed robbery.
Every heart was callous to his sufferings, but that of the wife of hisjailer; who, fancying him like a brother of hers, who had been killedten years before in Italy, at the dead of the night she opened hisprison doors. He fled into Normandy; and, without a home, outlawed,branded as a traitor and a thief, he was wandering half-desperate onestormy night on the banks of the Marne, when a cry of distressattracted his attention. It issued from the suit of De Valence, on hisway to Guienne. Scared at the tempest, the female attendants of LadyHelen had abandoned themselves to shrieks of despair; but she,insensible to anything but grief, lay in perfect stillness in thelitter that conveyed her. As Grimsby approached the travelers, DeValence demanded his assistance to conduct them to a place of shelter.Chateau Galliard was the nearest residence fit to receive the earl andhis train. Thither the soldier led them, and heard from the servantsthat 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; andby accidental speeches from the lady's attendants soon found that shewas not married to the earl; and was not only perfectly sane, but oftenmost cruelly treated. Her name he had never learned until the lastevening, when, carrying some wine into the banqueting-room, he heard DeValence mention it to the other stranger knight. He then retired fullof horror, resolving to essay her rescue himself; but the unexpectedsight of the two knights in the hall determined him to reveal the caseto them. "This," added Grimsby, "is my story; and whoever you are,noble lord, if you think me not unworthy your protection, grant it, andyou shall find me faithful unto death."
"I owe you that, and more," replied the chief; "I am that Wallace onwhose account you fled your country; and if you be willing to share thefortunes of one who may live and die in camps, I pledge you that mybest destiny shall be yours." Could Grimsby in his joyful surprisehave thrown himself at the feet of Wallace, he would have done so; buttaking hold of the end of his scarf, he pressed it enthusiastically tohis lips, and exclaimed:
"Bravest of the brave, this is beyond my prayers; to meet here thetriumphant lord of Scotland! I fell innocently into disgrace; ah! howam I now exalted unto honor! My country would have deprived me oflife; I am therefore dead to it, and live only to gratitude and you!"
"Then," replied Wallace, "as the first proof of the confidence I reposein you, know that the young chief who is riding forward with Lady Helenis Robert Bruce, the Prince of Scotland. Our next enterprise is toplace him upon the throne of his ancestors. Meanwhile, till we licenseyou to do otherwise, keep our names a secret, and call us by those wemay hereafter think fit to assume."
Grimsby, once more reinstated in the station he deserved--that of trustand respect--no longer hung his head in abject despondency; but lookingerect 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 listeningwith delight to the encomiums which Bruce passed upon his friend andchampion. As his eloquent tongue described the merits of Wallace, andexpressed an ardent gratitude for his having so gloriously supplied hisplace to Scotland, Helen turned her eyes upon the prince. Before shehad scarcely remarked that he was more than young and handsome; butnow, while she contemplated the noble confidence which breathed inevery feature, she said to herself: "This man is worthy to be thefriend of Wallace! His soul is a mirror to reflect all the brightnessof Wallace's; ay, like as with the sun's rays, to kindle with heaven'sfire 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 atwhich she need blush.
It was addressed to that perception of exalted worth which regardsneither sex nor age. Helen did not misapprehend him. The amiablefrankness of his manner seemed to open to him her heart. Wallace sheadored almost as a god; Bruce she could love as a brother. It requiresnot time nor proof to make virtuous hearts coalesce; there is alanguage without sounds, a recognition, independent of the visualorgan, which acknowledges the kindred of congenial souls almost in themoment they meet. "The virtuous mind knoweth its brother in the dark!"This was said by the man whose soul sympathized in every noble purposewith that of Wallace; while Helen, impelled by the same principle, andblushing with an emotion untainted by any sensation of shame, replied:
"I am too grateful to Heaven for having allowed me to witness thegoodness, to share the esteem of such a being--a man whose like I havenever seen."
"He is one of the few, Lady Helen," replied Bruce, "who is worthy of soaugust 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 allaccomplishments of mind and body; wise, brave, and invincible; yetforbearing, gentle, and unassuming; formed to be beloved, yet without atouch of vanity; loving all who approach him, without the least alloyof passion. Ah! Lady Helen, he is a model after which I will fashionmy life; for he has written the character of the Son of God in hisheart, and it shall be my study to transcribe the blessed copy intomine!"
Tears of gratitude glittered in the eye, and on the smile of Helen. Toanswer Bruce she found to be impossible, but that her smile and lookwere appreciated by him, his own told her; and stretching out his handto 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 theanimation on each countenance, and looked at Bruce with a glance ofinquiry; 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 withsuch happy traits.
"We have been talking of you," returned the prince, "and if to bebeloved is a source of joy, you must be peculiarly blessed. Theaffections of Lady Helen and myself have met, and made your heart thealtar
on which we have pledged our fraternal love."
Wallace regarded each with a look of tenderness. "It is my joy to loveyou both like a brother, but Lady Helen must consider me as even morethan that to her. I am her father's representative, I am the voice ofgrateful Scotland, thanking her for the preservation her generousexertions yielded! And to you, my prince, I am your friend, yoursubject--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 thegates of Paris. Every hour seemed an age of blessedness to Helen, sogratefully did she enjoy each passing moment of a happiness that seemedto speak of Paradise. Nature never before appeared so beautiful in hereyes, the sky was more serene, the birds sung with sweeter notes, thelandscape shone in brighter charms; the fragrances of the flowersbathed her senses in the softest balm; and the very air as it breathedaround her, seemed fraught with life and joy. But Wallace animated thescene; and while she fancied that she inhaled his breath in everyrespiration, she moved as if on enchanted ground. Oh! she could havelingered there forever! and hardly did she know what it was to draw anybut sighs of bliss till she saw the towers of Paris embattling thehorizon. They reminded her that she was now going to be occasionallydivided from him; that when entered within those walls, it would nolonger be decorous for her to pass days and nights in listening to hisvoice, in losing all of woman's love in the beautified affection of anangel.
This passion of the soul (if such it may be called), which has its risein virtue and its aim the same, would be most unjustly degraded were itclassed with what the herd generally entitle love. The love which menstigmatize, 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 themost debasing propensities of human nature. Earthly it is, and untoearth it shall return! But love, true heaven-born love, that pureaffection which unites congenial spirits here, and with which theCreator will hereafter connect in one blessed fraternity the wholekindred of mankind, has but one cause--the universal unchangeablenessand immortality, a something so excellent that the simple wish topartake its essence in the union of affection, to facilitate and toshare its attainment of true and lasting happiness, invigorates ourvirtue and inspires our souls. These are the aims and joys of reallove. It has nothing selfish; in every desire it soars above thisearth; and anticipates, as the ultimatum of its joy, the moment when itshall meet its partner before the throne of God. Such was thesentiment of Helen toward Wallace. So unlike what she had seen inothers of the universal passion, she would hardly have acknowledged toherself that what she felt was love, had not the anticipation of evenan hour's separation from him, whispered the secret to her heart.
CHAPTER LXV.
Paris.
When they were arrived within a short distance from Paris, Wallacewrote a few lines to King Philip, informing him who were the companionsof his journey, and that he would rest near the Abbey of St. Genevieveuntil he should receive his majesty's greetings to Bruce; also thequeen's granted protection for the daughter of the Earl of Mar.Grimsby was the bearer of this letter. He soon returned with an escortof honor, accompanied by Prince Louis himself. At sight of Wallace heflew into his arms, and after embracing him again and again with allthe unchecked ardor of youthful gratitude, he presented to him a packetfrom the king.
It expressed the satisfaction of Philip at the near prospect of hisseeing the man whom he had so long admired, and whose valor had wroughthim such service as the preservation of his son. He then added that hehad other matters to thank him for when they should meet, and subjectsto discuss which would be much elucidated by the presence of Bruce."According to your request," continued he, "the name of neither shallbe made public at my court. My own family only know who are to be myillustrious guests. The queen is impatient to bid them welcome, and noless eager to greet the Lady Helen Mar with her friendship andprotection."
A beautiful palfrey, superbly caparisoned, and tossing its fair neckamid the pride of its gorgeous chamfraine, was led forward by a page.Two ladies, also, bearing rich apparel for Helen, appeared in thetrain. When their errand was made known to Wallace, he communicated itto Helen. Her delicacy indeed wished to lay aside her page's apparelbefore she was presented to the queen; but she had been so happy whileshe 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 messagefrom their royal mistress, and opened the caskets. Helen sighed; shecould urge nothing in opposition to their embassy, and reluctantlyassented to the change they were to make in her appearance. She stoodmute while they disarrayed her of her humble guise, and clothed her inthe robes of France. During their attendance, in the adulatory strainsof 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 inwhat 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; "itdoes not seem of very rich silk."
"Probably not," returned Helen, "but it is valuable to me, and whereverI lodge, I will thank you to put it into my apartment."
A mirror was now presented that she might see herself. She started atthe load of jewels with which they had adorned her, and while tearsfilled 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 thoughtsdivided between her father and her father's friend, she was conductedtoward the palfrey. Wallace approached her, and Bruce flew forward,with his usual haste, to assist her; but it was no longer the beautifullittle page that met his view, the confidential and frank glance of ayouthful brother--it was a lovely woman arrayed in all the charms offemale apparel, trembling and blushing, as she again appeared as awoman before the eyes of the man she loved. Wallace sighed as hetouched her hand, for there was something in her air which seemed tosay, "I am not what I was a few minutes ago." It was the aspect of theworld's austerity, the decorum of rank and situation--but not of theheart--that had never been absent from the conduct of Helen; had shebeen in the wilds of Africa, with no other companion than Wallace,still would those chaste reserves which lived in her soul have beenthere the guardian of her actions, for modesty was as much theattribute of her person, as magnanimity the character of her mind.
Her more distant air at this time was the effect of reflections whilein the abbey where he had lodged her. She saw that the frankintercourse 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 heras beautiful, he now gazed on her as transcendently so. He checkedhimself in his swift step--he paused to look on her and Wallace, andcontemplating them with sentiments of unmingled admiration, thisexclamation unconsciously escaped him:
"How lovely!"
He could not but wish to see two such perfectly amiable and perfectlybeautiful beings united as closely by the bonds of the altar as hebelieved they were in heart, and he longed for the hour when he mightendow them with those proofs of his fraternal love which should classthem 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 allprice; thy soul is above even empires. Then how can I show thee allthat is in my heart for thee?"
While he thus apostrophized his friend, Wallace and Helen advancedtoward him. Bruce held out his hand to her with a cordial smile.
"Lady Helen, we are sti
ll to be the same! Robes of no kind must everseparate 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," answeredshe, "that will ever be a sanction to our friendship; but courts areformal places, and I now go to one."
"And I will soon remove you to another," replied he, "where"--hehesitated--looked at Wallace and then resumed: "where every wish of mysister Helen's heart shall be gratified, or I be no king."
Helen blushed deeply and hastened toward the palfrey. Wallace placedher on the embroidered saddle, and Prince Louis preceding thecavalcade, it moved on.
As Bruce vaulted into his seat he said something to his friend of theperfectly 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 excelall of created mold. From infancy to manhood I read every thought ofher angelic heart; I became the purer by the study, and I loved mymodel with an idolatrous adoration. There was my error! But thosesympathies, those hours are past. My heart will never throb as it hasthrobbed; never rejoice as it has rejoiced; for she who lived but forme, who doubled all my joys, is gone! Oh, my prince, though blessedwith 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, herexcellences, remind me of what were once mine, and recall every regret.Oh, Bruce! thou canst not comprehend my loss! To mingle thought withthought, and soul with soul, for years; and then, after blending ourvery beings, and feeling as if indeed made one, to be separated--and bya stroke of violence! This was a trial of the spirit which, but forHeaven's mercy, would have crushed me. I live, but still my heart willmourn, mourn her I have lost--and mourn that my rebellious nature willnot be more resigned to the judgments of its God."
"And is love so constant, so tenacious?" exclaimed Bruce; "is it toconsume your youth, Wallace? Is it to wed such a heart as yours to thetomb? Ah! am I not to hope that the throne of my children may beupheld 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 beupheld by Heaven; but should they pervert themselves, a host of mortalsupports would not be sufficient to stay their downfall."
In discourse like this, the youthful Prince of Scotland caught aclearer view of the inmost thoughts of his friend than he had been ableto discern before; for war, or Bruce's own interests, havingparticularly engaged them in all their former conversations, Wallacehad never been induced to glance at the private circumstances of hishistory. While Bruce sighed in tender pity for the captivated heart ofHelen, he the more deeply revered, more intensely loved, his sufferingand heroic friend.
A few hours brought the royal escort to the Louvre; and through a trainof nobles, Helen was led by Prince Louis into the regal saloon. TheScottish chiefs followed. The queen and the Count D'Evereux receivedBruce and Helen, while De Valois conducted Wallace to the king, who hadretired 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 hisseat, 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 withbenefits. You have saved my son's life; you have preserved from taintthe honor of my sister!" Philip then proceeded to inform his auditorthat he had heard from a confessor of Queen Margaret's, just arrivedfrom England, all that had lately happened at Edward's court; and ofWallace'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 overwhelmedher; nay, it has already dishonored her, for the blasting effects ofslander no time nor labor can erase. I yield to the prayers of my toogentle sister, not to openly resent this wrong, but in private he shallfeel a brother's indignation. I do not declare war against him, butask what you will, bravest of men, and were it to place the crown ofScotland on your head, demand it of me, and by my concealed agency itshall be effected."
The reply of Wallace was simple. He claimed no merit in the justice hehad done the Queen of England; neither in his rescue of Prince Louis,but as a proof of King Philip's friendship, he gladly embraced hisoffered 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 thatyou will use your royal influence with Edward to allow it to remain so.Pledge your faith, most gracious monarch, with my master the royallydescended Bruce, who is now in your palace. He will soon assume thecrown that is his right; and with such an ally as France to hold theambition of Edward in check, we may certainly hope that the bloodyfeuds between Scotland and England may at last be laid to rest."
Wallace explained to Philip the dispositions of the Scots, the natureof Bruce's claims, and the transcendent virtues of his youthfulcharacter. 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 todictate to kings, while you put aside as things of no moment the crownsoffered to yourself. You are young and, marveling, I would say withoutambition, did I not know that your deeds and your virtues have set youabove all earthly titles. But to convince me that you do not disdainthe gratitude we pay, at least accept a name in my country; and know,that the armor you wear, the coronet around your helmet, invest youwith 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 anact of churlish pride foreign from the character of Wallace. Hegraciously 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 disinterestedesteem. But when he had proposed it to his brother D'Evereux, as theonly way he could devise of rewarding Wallace for the preservation ofhis son, and the honor of their sister, he was obliged to urge insupport of his wish, the desire he had to take the first opportunity ofbeing revenged on Edward by the reseizure of Guienne. To have SirWilliam Wallace lord of Gascony would then be of the greatest advantageas no doubt could be entertained of his arms soon restoring the sisterprovince to the French monarchy. In such a case, Philip promised tobestow Guienne on his brother D'Evereux.
To attach this new count to France was now all the wish of Philip, andhe closed the conference with every expression of friendship which mancould deliver to man. Wallace lost not the opportunity of pleading forthe abdicated King of Scots; and Philip, eager as well to evince hisresentment to Edward as to oblige Wallace, promised to send immediateorders to Normandy that De Valence should leave Chateau Galliard, andBaliol be attended with his former state.
The king then led his guest into the royal saloon, where they found thequeen seated between Bruce and Helen. At sight of the Scottish chiefher majesty rose. Philip led him up to her; and Wallace, bending hisknee, 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 sonand his together, and added, "Louis, wherever our Count of Gasconyadvises you to pledge this hand, give it."
"Then it will follow mine!" cried the king, putting his into that ofBruce; "You are Wallace's acknowledged sovereign, young prince, and youshall ever find brothers in me and my son! Sweet lady," added he,turning
to the glowing Helen, "thanks to your charms for having drawnthis friend of mankind to bless our shores!"
The court knew Wallace merely as Count of Gascony; and, to preserve anequal concealment, Bruce assumed the name of the young De Longueville,whom Prince Louis had, in fact, allowed to leave him on the road toParis to retire to Chartres, there to pass a year of mourning withinits penitential monastery. Only two persons ever came to the Louvrewho 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 ofdislike 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 nodanger in trusting him. The brave son of William Douglas wasaltogether of a nobler mettle, and both Wallace and his prince rejoicedat the prospect of receiving him to their friendship.
Philip opened the affair to the two lords; and having declared hisdesigns in favor of Bruce, conducted them into t he queen's room, andpointing 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 yousee me on the throne of my fathers. Till then, that is our prince,"added he, looking on Wallace; "he is my leader, my counselor, myexample! And, if you love me, he must be yours."
Douglas and Cummin turned toward Wallace at these words. Royalty didindeed sit on his brow, but with a tempered majesty which spoke only inlove and honor. From the resplendent countenance of Bruce it smiledand threatened, for the blaze of his impassioned nature was not yetsubdued. The queen looked from one to the other. The divinelycomposed air of Wallace seemed to her the celestial port of someheaven-descended being, lent awhile to earth to guide the steps of thePrince of Scotland. She had read, in Homer's song, of the deity ofwisdom assuming the form of Mentor to protect the son of Ulysses, andhad it not been for the youth of the Scottish chief, she would havesaid, here is the realization of the tale.
Helen had eyes for none but Wallace. Nobles, princes, kings, were allinvolved in one uninteresting mass to her when he was present. Yet shesmiled on Douglas when she heard him express his gratitude to thechampion of Scotland for the services he had done a country for whichhis own father had died. Cummin, when he paid his respects to Wallace,told him that he did so with double pleasure, since he had twounquestionable evidences of his unequaled merit--the confidence of hisfather, the Lord Badenoch, and the hatred of his brother, the presentusurper of that title.
The king soon after led his guests to the council-room, where a secretcabinet was to be held, to settle the future bonds between the twokingdoms; and Helen, looking long after the departing figure ofWallace, with a pensive step followed the queen to her apartment.