Chapter LXX.
Berwick.
While Wallace, accompanied by his brave friends, was thus carrying allbefore him from the Grampian to the Cheviot Hills, Bruce was rapidlyrecovering. His eager wishes seemed to heal his wounds, and on thetenth day after the departure of Wallace, he left the couch which hadbeen beguiled of its irksomeness by the smiling attentions of thetender Isabella. The ensuing Sabbath beheld him still more restored,and having imparted his intentions to the Lords Ruthven and Douglas,who were both with him, the next morning he joyfully buckled on hisarmor. Isabella, when she saw him thus clad, started, and the rosesleft her cheek. "I am armed to be your guide to Huntingtower," saidhe, with a look that showed her he read her thoughts. He then calledfor pen and ink, to write to Wallace. The reassured Isabella,rejoicing in the glad beams of his brightening eyes, held the standish.As he dipped his pen, he looked at her with a grateful tenderness thatthrilled her soul, and made her bend her blushing face to hide emotionswhich whispered bliss in every beat of her happy heart. Thus, with aspirit wrapped in felicity, for victory hailed him from without, andlove seemed to woo him to the dearest transports within, he wrote thefollowing letter to Wallace:
"I am now well, my best friend! This day I attend my lovely nurse,with her venerable guardian, to Huntingtower. Eastward of Perth,almost every castle of consequence is yet filled by the Southrons, whomthe folly of James Cummin allowed to reoccupy the places whence you hadso lately driven them. I go to root them out; to emulate in the north,what you are now doing in the south! You shall see me again when thebanks of the Spey are as free as you have made the Forth. In all thisI am yet Thomas de Longueville. Isabella, the sweet soother of myhours, knows me as no other; for would she not despise the unfamedBruce? To deserve and win her love as De Longueville, and to marry heras King of Scotland, is the fond hope of your friend and brother,Robert ---. God speed me, and I shall send you dispatches of myproceedings."
Wallace had just made a successful attack upon the outworks of Berwick,when this letter was put into his hand. He was surrounded by hischieftains; and having read it, he informed them that Sir Thomas deLongueville was going to the Spey to rid its castles of the enemy.
"The hopes of his enterprising spirit," continued Wallace, "are soseconded by his determination, I doubt not that what he promises, Godand the justice of our cause will perform; and we may soon expect tohear Scotland has no enemies in her Highlands."
But in this hope Wallace was disappointed. Day after day passed, andno tidings from the north. He became anxious; Bothwell and Edwin toobegan to share his uneasiness. Continued successes against Berwick hadassured them a speedy surrender, when unexpected succors being thrownin by sea, the confidence of the garrison became re-excited, and theramparts appeared doubly manned. Wallace saw that the only alternativewas to surprise and take possession of the ships, and turn the siegeinto a blockade. Still trusting that Bruce would be prosperous in theHighlands, he calculated on full leisure to await the fall of Berwickon this plan; and so much blood might be spared. Intent and executionwere twin-born in the breast of Wallace. By a masterly stroke heeffected his design on the shipping; and having closed the Southronswithin their walls, he dispatched Lord Bothwell to Huntingtower, tolearn the state of military operations there, and above all to bringback tidings of the prince's health.
On the evening of the very day in which Murray left Berwick, adesperate sully was made by the garrison; but they were beaten backwith such effect, that Wallace gained possession of one of their mostcommanding towers. The contest did not end till night; and afterpassing a brief while in the council-tent listening to the suggestionsof his friends relative to the use that might be made of the newacquisition, he retired to his own quarters at a late hour. At thesemomentous periods he never seemed to need sleep; and sitting at histable setting the dispositions for the succeeding day, he marked notthe time till the flame of his exhausted lamp expired in the socket.He replenished it and had again resumed his military labors, when thecurtain which covered the door of his tent was drawn aside, and anarmed man entered. Wallace looked up, and seeing that it was theKnight of the Green Plume, asked if anything had occurred from the town.
"Nothing," replied the knight, in an agitated voice, and seatinghimself beside Wallace.
"Any evil tidings from Perthshire?" demanded Wallace, who now hardlydoubted that ill news had arrived of Bruce.
"None," was the knight's reply; "but I am come to fulfill my promise toyou, to unite myself forever heart and soul to your destiny, or youbehold me this night for the last time."
Surprised at this address, and the emotion which shook the frame of theunknown warrior, Wallace answered him with expressions of esteem, andadded:
"If it depend on me to unite so brave a man to my friendship forever,only speak the word, declare your name, and I am ready to seal thecompact."
"My name," declared the knight, "will indeed put these protestations tothe proof. I have fought by your side, Sir William Wallace; I wouldhave died at any moment to have spared that breast a wound, and yet Idread to raise my visor to show you who I am. A look will make me liveor blast me."
"Your language confounds me, noble knight," replied Wallace. "I knowof no man living, save the base violators of Lady Helen Mar's liberty,who need tremble before my eyes. It is not possible that either ofthese men is before me; and whoever you are, whatever you may havebeen, brave chief, your deeds have proved you worthy of a soldier'sfriendship, and I pledge you mine."
The knight was silent. He took Wallace's hand--he grasped it; the armsthat held it did indeed tremble. Wallace again spoke.
"What is the meaning of this? I have a power to benefit, but none toinjure."
"To benefit and to injure!" cried the knight, in a transport ofemotion; "you have my life in your hands. Oh! grant it, as you valueyour own happiness and honor! Look on me and say whether I am to liveor die."
As the warrior spoke, he cast himself impetuously on his knees, andthrew open his visor. Wallace saw a fine but flushed face. It wasmuch overshadowed by the helmet.
"My friend," said he, attempting to raise him by the hand which claspedhis, "your words are mysteries to me; and so little right can I have tothe power you ascribe to me, that although it seems to me as if I hadseen your features before, yet--"
"You forget me!" cried the knight, starting on his feet, and throwingoff his helmet to the ground; "again look on this face and stab me atonce by a second declaration that I am remembered no more!"
The countenance of Wallace now showed that he too well remembered it.He was pale and aghast.
"Lady Mar," cried he, "not expecting to see you under a warrior'scasque--you will pardon me, that when so appareled I should notimmediately recognize the widow of my friend."
She gasped for articulation.
"And it is thus," cried she, "you answer the sacrifices I have made foryou? For you I have committed an outrage on my nature; I have put onme this abhorrent steel; I have braved the dangers of many ahard-fought day, and all to guard your life! to convince you of a loveunexampled in woman! and thus you recognize her who has risked honorand life for you--with coldness and reproach!"
"With neither, Lady Mar," returned he, "I am grateful for the generousmotives of your conduct; but for the sake of the fair fame you confessyou have endangered, in respect to the memory of him whose name youbear, I cannot but wish that so hazardous an instance of interest in mehad been left undone."
"If that is all," returned she, drawing toward him, "it is in yourpower to ward from me every stigma! Who will dare to cast onereflection on my fair fame when you bear testimony to my purity? Whowill asperse the name of Mar when you displace it with that of Wallace?Make me yours, dearest of men," cried she, clasping his hands, "andyou will receive one to your heart who never knew how to love before,who will be to you what your heart who never knew how to love before,who will be to you what woman never yet was, and who will endow youwith territories nearly equa
l to those of the King of Scotland. Myfather is no more; and now, as Countess of Strathearn and Princess ofthe Orkneys, I have it in my power to earn and Princess of the Orkneys,I have it in my power to bring a sovereignty to your head, and thefondest of wives to your bosom." As she vehemently spoke, and clung toWallace, as if she had already a right to seek comfort within his arms,her tears and violent agitations so disconcerted him that for a fewmoments he could not find a reply. This short endurance of her passionaroused her almost drooping hopes, and intoxicated with so rapturous anillusion, she threw off the little restraint in which the awe ofWallace's coldness had confined her, and flinging herself on hisbreast, poured forth all her love and fond ambitions for him. In vainhe attempted to interrupt her, to raise her with gentleness from herindecorous situation; she had no perception but the idea which had nowtaken possession of her heart, and whispering to him softly, said: "Bebut my husband, Wallace, and all rights shall perish before my love andyour aggrandizement. In these arms, you shall bless the day you firstsaw Joanna of Strathearn!"
The prowess of the Knight of the Green Plume, the respect he owed tothe widow of the Earl of Mar, the tenderness he ever felt for all ofwomankind, were all forgotten in the disgusting blandishments of thisdisgrace to her sex. She wooed to be his wife, but not with the chasteappeal of the widow of Mahlon. "Let me find favor in thy sight, forthou hast comforted me! Spread thy garment over me, and let me be thywife!" said the fair Moabitess who in a strange land cast herself atthe feet of her deceased husband's friend. She was answered, "I willdo all that thou requirest, for thou art a virtuous woman!" Butneither the actions nor the words of Lady Mar bore witness that shedeserved this appellation. The were the dictates of a passion impureas it was intemperate. Blinded by its fumes, she forgot the nature ofthe heart she sought to pervert to sympathy with hers. She saw notthat every look and movement on her part filled Wallace with aversion,and not until he forcibly broke from her did she doubt the success ofher fond caresses.
"Lady mar," said he, "I must repeat that I am not ungrateful for theproofs of regard you have bestowed on me; but such excess of attachmentis lavished upon a man that is a bankrupt in love. I am cold asmonumental marble to every touch of that passion to which I was oncebut too entirely devoted. Bereaved of the object, I am punished; thusis my heart doomed to solitude on earth for having made an idol of theangel that was sent to cheer my path to Heaven." Wallace said evenmore than this. He remonstrated with her on the shipwreck she wasmaking of her own happiness, in adhering thus tenaciously to a man whocould only regard her with the general sentiment of esteem. He urgedher beauty and yet youthful years, and how many would be eager to winher love, and to marry her with honor. While he continued to speak toher with the tender consideration of a brother, she, who knew nogradations in the affections of the heart, doubted his words, andbelieved that a latent fire glowed in his breast which her art mightyet blow into a flame. She threw herself upon her knees, she wept, sheimplored his pity, she wound her arms around his, and bathed his handswith her tears, but still he continued to urge her, by every argumentof female delicacy, to relinquish her ill-directed love, to return toher domains before her absence could be generally known. She looked upto read his countenance. A friend's anxiety, nay, authority, wasthere, but no glow of passion; all was calm and determined. Herbeauty, then, had been shown to a man without eyes, her tendereloquence poured on an ear that was deaf, her blandishments lavished ona block of marble! In a paroxysm of despair she dashed the hand sheheld far from her, and standing proudly on her feet--"Hear me, thou manof stone!" cried she, "and answer me on your life and honor, for bothdepend on your reply; is Joanna of Strathearn to be your wife?"
"Cease to urge me, unhappy lady," returned Wallace; "you already knowthe decision of this ever-widowed heart."
Lady Mar looked steadfastly at him.
"Then receive my last determination!" and drawing near him with adesperate and portentous countenance, as if she meant to whisper in hisear, she suddenly plucked St. Louis' dagger from his girdle and struckit into his breast. He caught the hand which grasped the hilt. Hereyes glared with the fury of a maniac, and, with a horrid laugh, sheexclaimed: "I have slain thee, insolent triumpher in my love andagonies! Thou shalt not now deride me in the arms of thy minion; for,I know that it is not for the dead Marion you have trampled on my heartbut for the living Helen!"
As she spoke, he moved her hold from the dagger, and drew the weaponfrom the wound. A torrent of blood flowed over his vest, and stainedthe hand that grasped hers. She turned of a deadly paleness, but ademoniac joy still gleamed in her eyes.
"Lady Mar," cried he, while he thrust the thickness of his scarf intothe wound, "I pardon this outrage. Go in peace, I shall never breatheto man nor woman the occurrences of this night. Only remember, thatwith regard to Lady Helen, my wishes are as pure as her own innocence."
"So they may be now, vainly boasting, immaculate Wallace!" answeredshe, with bitter derision; "men are saints when their passions aresatisfied. Think not to impose on her who knows how this vestal Helenfollowed you in page's attire, and without one stigma being cast uponher maiden delicacy. I am not to learn the days and nights she passedalone with you in the woods of Normandy? Did you not follow her toFrance? Did you not tear her from the arms of Lord Aymer de Valence?and now, relinquishing her yourself, you leave a dishonored bride tocheat the vows of some honester man! Wallace, I know you, and as Ihave been fool enough to love you beyond all woman's love, I swear bythe powers of heaven and hell to make you feel the weight of woman'shatred!"
Her denunciation had no effect on Wallace; but her slander against herunoffending daughter-in-law agitated him with an indignation thatalmost dispossessed him of himself. In hurried and vehement words, hedenied all that she had alleged against Helen, and appealed to thewhole court of France to witness her spotless innocence. Lady Marexulted in this emotion, though every sentence, by the interest itdisplayed in its object, seemed to establish the truth of a suspicionwhich she at first only uttered from the vague workings of her revenge.Triumphing in the belief that he had found another as frail asherself, and yet maddened that another should have been preferredbefore her, her jealous pride blazed into redoubled flame.
"Swear," cried she, "till I see the blood of that false heart forced tomy feet, and still I shall believe the base daughter of Mar a wanton.I go, not to proclaim her dishonor to the world, but to deprive her ofher lover; to yield the rebel Wallace into the hands of justice! Whenon the scaffold, proud exulter in those by me now detested beauties,remember that it was Joanna Strathearn who laid thy matchless head uponthe block; who consigned those limbs, of Heaven's own statuary, todecorate the spires of Scotland! Remember that my curse pursues you,here and hereafter!"
A livid fire seemed to dart from her scornful eyes, her countenance wastorn as by some internal fiend, and, with the last maledictionthundering from her tongue, she darted from his sight.