Chapter LXXXII.
The Tower of London.
Helen's fleet steps carried her in a few minutes through theintervening dungeons to the door which would restore to her eyes thebeing with whose life her existence seemed blended. The bolts hadyielded to her hands. The iron latch now gave way; and the ponderousoak, grating dismally on its hinges, she looked forward, and beheld theobject of all her solicitude leaning along a couch; a stone table wasbefore him, at which he seemed writing. He raised his head at thesound. The peace of virtue was in his eyes, and a smile on his lips,as if he had expected some angel visitant.
The first glance at his pale, but heavenly countenance struck to theheart of Helen; veneration, anguish, shame, all rushed on her at once.She was in his presence! but how might he turn from consolations he hadnot sought! The intemperate passion of her step-mother now glaredbefore her; his contempt of the countess' unsolicited advances appearedready to be extended to her rash daughter-in-law; and with anirrepressible cry, which seemed to breathe out her life, Helen wouldhave fled, but her failing limbs bent under her, and she fell senselessinto the dungeon. Wallace started from his reclining position. Hethought his senses must deceive him--and yet the shriek was LadyHelen's. He had heard the same cry on the Pentland Hills; in thechamber of Chateau Galliard! He rose agitated; he approached theprostrate youth, and bending to the inanimate form, took off the Normanhat; he parted the heavy locks which fell over her brow, and recognizedthe features of her who alone had ever shared his meditations with hisMarion. He sprinkled water on her face and hands; he touched hercheek; it was ashy cold, and the chill struck to his heart. "Helen!"exclaimed he; "Helen, awake! Speak to thy friend!"
Still she was motionless. "Dead!" cried he, with increased emotion.His eye and his heart in a moment discerned and understood the rapidemaciation of those lovely features--now fearing the worst; "Gone sosoon!" repeated he, "gone to tell my Marion that her Wallace comes.Blessed angel!" cried he, clasping her to his breast, with an energy ofwhich he was not aware, "take me, take me with thee!" The pressure,the voice, roused the dormant life of Helen. With a torturing sigh sheunsealed her eyes from the death-like load that oppressed them, andfound herself in the arms of Wallace.
All her wandering senses, which from the first promulgation of hisdanger had been kept in a bewildered state, now rallied; and, inrecovered sanity, smote her to the soul. Though still overwhelmed withgrief at the fate which threatened to tear him from her and life, shenow wondered how she could ever have so trampled on the retreatingmodesty of her nature, as to have brought herself thus into hispresence; and in a voice of horror, of despair, believing that she hadforever destroyed herself in his opinion, she exclaimed: "O! Wallace!how came I here? I am lost--and innocently; but God--the pure God--canread the soul!"
She lay in hopeless misery on his breast, with her eyes again closed,almost unconscious of the support on which she leaned.
"Lady Helen," returned he, "was it other than Wallace you sought inthese dungeons? I dared to think that the Parent we both adore hadsent you hither to be His harbinger of consolation!" Recalled toself-possession by the kindness of these words, Helen turned her headon his bosom, and in a burst of grateful tears, hardly articulated:
"And will you not abhor me for this act of madness? But I was notmyself. And yet, where should I live but at the feet of my benefactor?"
The steadfast soul of Wallace was subdued by this language, and themanner of its utterance. It was the disinterested dictates of a purethough agitated spirit, which he now was convinced did most exclusivelylove him, but with the passion of an angel; and the tears of a sympathywhich spoke their kindred natures stole from his eyes as he bent hischeek on her head. She felt them; and rejoicing in such an assurancethat she yet possessed his esteem, a blessed calm diffused itself overher mind, and raising herself, with a look of virtuous confidence, sheexclaimed:
"Then you do understand me, Wallace? you pardon me this apparentforgetfulness of my sex; and you recognize a true sister in Helen Mar?I may administer to that noble heart, till--" she paused, turningdeathly pale, and then clasping his hand in both hers, in bitter agonyadded, "till we meet in heaven!"
"And blissful, dearest saint, will be our union there," replied he,"where soul meets soul, unencumbered of these earthly fetters; andmingles with each other, even as thy tender teardrops now glide intomine! But there, my Helen, we shall never weep. No heart will be leftunsatisfied; no spirit will mourn in unrequited love, for that happyregion is the abode of love--of love without the defilements or thedisquietudes of mortality, for there it is an everlasting, pureenjoyment. It is a full, diffusive tenderness, which, penetrating allhearts, unites the whole in one spirit of boundless love in the bosomof our God! Who, the source of all love, as John the beloved disciplesaith, 'so loved a lost world, that he sent his only Son to redeem itfrom its sins, and to bring it to eternal blessedness!'"
"Ah!" cried Helen, throwing herself on her knees in holy enthusiasm;"join then your prayers with mine, most revered of friends, that I maybe admitted into such blessedness! Petition our God to forgive me, anddo you forgive me, that I have sometimes envied the love you bear yourMarion! But now I love her so entirely, that to be her and yourministering spirit in Paradise would amply satisfy my soul."
"O! Helen," cried Wallace, grasping her uplifted hands in his, andclasping them to his heart, "thy soul and Marion's are indeed one, andas one I love ye!"
This unlooked-for declaration almost overpowered Helen in its flood ofhappiness; and, with a smile, which seemed to picture the very heavensopening before her, she turned her eyes from him to a crucifix whichstood on a table, and bowing her head on its pedestal, was lost in thedevotion of rapturous gratitude.
At this juncture, when, perhaps, the purest bliss that ever descendedon woman's heart now glowed in that of Helen, the Earl of Gloucesterentered. His were not visits of consolation, for he knew that hisfriend, who had built his heroism on the rock of Christianity, did notrequire the comfortings of any mortal hand. At sight of him Wallacepointing to the kneeling Helen, beckoned him into the inner cell, wherehis straw pallet lay; and there, in a low voice, declared who she was,and requested the earl to use his authority to allow her to remain withhim to the last.
"After that," said he, "I rely on you, generous Gloucester, to conveysafely back to her country a being who seems to have nothing of earthabout her but the terrestrial body which enshrines her angelic soul!"
The sound of a voice speaking with Wallace roused Helen from her happytrance. Alarmed that it might be the fatal emissaries of the tyrant,come prematurely to summon him to his last hour, she started on herfeet. "Where are you, Wallace?" cried she, looking distractedly aroundher; "I must be with you even in death!"
Hearing her fearful cry, he hastened into the dungeon, and relieved herimmediate terror by naming the Earl of Gloucester, who followed him.The conviction that Wallace was under mortal sentence, which theheaven-sent impression of his eternal bliss had just almostobliterated, now glared upon her with redoubled horrors. This worldagain rose before her in the person of Gloucester. It reminded herthat she and Wallace were not yet passed into the hereafter, whoseanticipated reunion had wrapt her in such sweet elysium. He had yetthe bitter cup of death to drink to the dregs; and all of humanweakness again writhed within her bosom. "And is there no hope?"faltered she, looking earnestly on the disturbed face of Gloucester,who had bowed with a pitying respect to her as he approached her. Andthen, while he seemed hesitating for an answer, she more firmly, butimploringly resumed: "Oh, let me seek your king? once he was a crusadeprince! The cross was then on his breast, and the love of Him who cameto redeem lost man, nay, even his direst enemies, from death unto life,must have been then in your king's heart. Oh, if once there, it cannotbe wholly extinguished now! Let me, gracious earl, but recall to himthat he was then beloved by a queen who to this day is the glory of hersex. On that spot of holy contest she preserved his life from anassassin's po
ison, by daring the sacrifice of her own! But she livedto bless him, and to be blessed herself! While Sir William Wallace,also a Christian knight, anointed by virtue and his cause, hath onlydone for his own country and its trampled land what King Edward thendid for Christendom in Palestine. And he was roused to the defense, bya deed worse than ever infidel inflicted! The wife of his bosom--whohad all of angel about her, but that of her mortal body--was stabbed bya murderous Southron governor in Scotland, because she would not betrayher husband to his desolating brand! I would relate this on my knees,to your royal Edward, and call on the spirit of his sainted queen toenforce my suit, by the memory of her love and her devotedness."
Helen, who had risen in her energy of speech and supplication, suddenlypaused, clasped her hands, and stood with upward eyes, looking as ifshe beheld the beatified object of her invocation.
"Dearest sister of my soul!" cried Wallace, who had forborne tointerrupt her, taking her clasped hands in his, "thy knees shall neverbend to any less than to the blessed Lord of all mankind, for me! DidHe will my longer pilgrimage on this earth, of which my spirit isalready weary, it would not be in the power of any human tyrant to holdme in these bonds. And, for Edward! believe, that not all thy tendereloquence could make one impression, where a long obdurate ambitionhath set so deep a seal. I am content to go, my sister--and angelswhisper me," (and his voice became subdued, though still calm, while headded, in a lowered tone, like that angel whisper) "that thy bridal bedwill be in William Wallace's grave!" She spoke not, but at thisassurance turned her tearful eyes upon him, with a beam of delight;with such delight, the vestal consigns herself to the cloister; withsuch delight, the widowed mourner lays her head to rest on the tomb ofhim she loved. But with such delight none are acquainted who know notwhat it is to be wedded to the soul of a beloved being, when the bodywhich was once its vestment lies moldering in the earth.
Gloucester contemplated this chaste union of two spotless hearts, withan admiration almost amounting to devotion. "Noble lady," said he,"the message that I came to impart to Sir William Wallace bears with ita show of hope; and, I trust that your gentle spirit will yet be aspersuasive as consolatory. A deputation has just arrived from ourborder-counties, headed by the good Barons de Hilton and DeBlenkinsopp, praying the royal mercy for their gallant foe, who hadbeen most generous to them, they set forth, in their extremity. Andthe king was listening to them, with what temper I know not, when aprivate embassy, as opportunely, made its appearance from France, onthe same errand; in short, to negotiate with Edward for the safety ofour friend, as a prince of that realm. I left the embassadors,"continued the earl, turning to Wallace, "in debate with his majesty;and he has at length granted a suspension--nay, has even promised arepeal of the horrible injustice that was to be completed to-morrow, ifyou can be brought to accord with certain proposals, now to be laidbefore you. Accept them, and Edward will comply with all King Philip'sdemands in your behalf."
"Then you will accept them!" cried Helen, in a tumult of suspense. Thecommunication of Gloucester had made no change in the equable pulse ofWallace; and he replied, with a look of tender pity upon her animatedcountenance. "The proposals of Edward are too likely to be snares forthat honor which I would bear with me uncontaminated to the grave.Therefore, dearest consoler of my last hours, do not give way to hopeswhich a greater King than Edward may command me to disappoint." Helenbowed her head in silence. The color again faded from her cheek, anddespair once more seized on her heart.
Gloucester resumed; and, after narrating some particulars concerningthe conference between the king and the embassadors, he suggested theimpracticality of secretly retaining Lady Helen, for any length oftime, in the state dungeon. "I dare not," continued he, "be privy toher presence here, and yet conceal it from the king. I know not whatmessengers he may send to impart his conditions to you; and should shebe discovered, Edward, doubly incensed, would tear her from you; and,as an accessory, so involve me in his displeasure, that I should bedisabled from serving either of you further. Were I so to honor hisfeelings as a man as to mention it to him, I do not believe that hewould oppose her wishes; but how to reveal such a circumstance with anyregard to her fair fame, I know not; for all are not sufficientlyvirtuous to believe her spotless innocence."
Helen hastily interrupted Gloucester, and with firmness said, "When Ientered these walls, the world and I parted forever. The good or theevil opinion of the impure in heart can never affect me--they shallnever see me more. The innocent will judge me by themselves, and bythe end of my race. I came to minister with a sister's duty to my ownand my father's preserver; and while he abides here, I will neverconsent to leave his feet. When he goes hence, if it be to blessmankind again, I shall find the longest life too short to pour forthall my gratitude; and for that purpose I will dedicate myself in somenunnery of my native land. But should he be taken from a world sounworthy of him, soon, very soon, I shall cease to feel its aspersionsin the grave."
"No aspersions which I can avert, dearest Helen," cried Wallace, "shallever tarnish the fame of one whose purity can only be transcended byher who is now made perfect in heaven! Consent, noblest of women, towear, for the few days I may yet linger here, a name which thy sisterangel has sanctified to me. Give me a legal right to call you mine,and Edward himself will not then dare to divide what God has joinedtogether!"
Helen paused--even her heart seemed to cease its pulsation in the awfulmoment. Did she hear aright? and was she indeed going to invade therights of the wife she had so often vowed to regard as the sole objectof Wallace's dearest wishes? Oh, no; it was not the lover that shonein his luminous eyes; it was not the mistress that glowed in her bosom.Words might be breathed; but no change would be wrought in the soulsof them who were already separated from the earth. With these thoughtsHelen turned toward Wallace; she attempted to answer, but the wordsdied on the seraphic smile which beamed upon her lips, and she droppedher head upon his breast.
Gloucester, who saw no other means of insuring to his friend thecomfort of her society, was rejoiced at this mutual resolution. He hadlonged to propose it; but considering the peculiarities of theirsituation, knew not how to do so without seeming to mock theirsensibility and fate. It was now near midnight; and having read theconsent of Helen in the tender emotion which denied her speech, withoutfurther delay he quitted the apartment to summon the confessor of thewarden to unite their hands.
On his re-entrance, he found Helen sitting, dissolved in tears, withher hand clasped in his friend's. The sacred rite was soon performedwhich endowed her with all the claims upon Wallace which her devotedheart had so long contemplated with resigned hopelessness--to be hishelpmate on earth, his partner in the tomb, his dear companion inheaven! With the last benediction she threw herself on her kneesbefore him, and put his hand to her lips in eloquent silence.Gloucester, with a look of kind farewell, withdrew with the priest.
"Thou noble daughter of the noblest Scot!" said Wallace, raising herfrom the ground, "this bosom is thy place, and not my feet. Long itwill not be given me to hold thee here; but even in the hours of yearsof our separation my spirit will hover near thee, to bear thine to oureverlasting home."
The heart of Helen alternatively beat violently, and stopped, as if thevital current were suddenly impeded. Hope and fear agitated her byturns; but clinging to the flattering ideas which the arrival of theembassadors had excited, she timidly breathed a hope that, by thepresent interferences of King Philip, Edward might not be foundinexorable.
"Disturb not the holy composure of your soul by such an expectation,"returned Wallace; "I know my adversary too well to anticipate hisrelinquishing the object of his vengeance but at a price more infamousthan the most ignoble death. Therefore, best beloved of all on earth!look for no deliverance for thy Wallace but what passes through thegrave; and to me, dearest Helen, its gates are on golden hingesturning; for all is light and bliss which shines on me from withintheir courts!"
Helen's thoughts, in the idea
of his being torn from her, could notwrest themselves from the dire images of his execution; she shuddered,and in faltering accents replied, "Ah! could we glide from sleep intoso blessed a death, I would hail it even for thee! But the threatenedhorrors, should they fall on thy sacred head, will in that hour, Itrust, also divorce my soul from this grievous world!"
"Not so, my Helen," returned he, "keep not thy dear eyes forever fixedon the gloomy appendages of death. The scaffold and the grave havenaught to do with the immortal soul; it cannot be wounded by the onenor confined by the other. And is not the soul thy full and perfectWallace? It is that which now speaks to thee--which will cherish thybeloved idea forever. Lament not, then, how soon this body, its mereapparel, is laid down in the dust. But rejoice still in my existence,which, through Him who 'led captivity captive,' will never know apause? Comfort then thy heart, my soul's dear sister, and sojourn alittle while on this earth to bear witness for thy Wallace to thefriends he loves."
Helen, who felt the import of his words in her heart, gently bowed herhead, and he proceeded:
"As the first who stemmed with me the torrent which, with God's help,we so often laid into a calm, I mention to you my faithful men ofLanark. Many of them bled and died in the contest; and to theirorphans, with the children of those who yet survive, I consign all ofthe world's wealth that yet belongs to William Wallace; Ellerslie andits estates are theirs.** To Bruce, my sovereign and my friend--theloved companion of the hour in which I freed you, my Helen, from thearms of violence! to him I bequeath this heart, knit to him by bondsmore dear than even loyalty. Bear it to him; and when he is summonedto his heavenly throne, then let his heart and mine fill up one urn.To Lord Ruthven, to Bothwell, to Lockhart, to Scrymgeour, and toKirkpatrick I give my prayers and blessings."
**This bequest of Wallace is a fact.
Here Wallace paused. Helen had listened to him with a holy attention,which hardly allowed a sigh to breathe from her steadfast heart. Shespoke, but the voice was scarcely audible.
"And what for him who loves you dearer than life--for Edwin? He cannotbe forgotten!"
Wallace started at this; then she was ignorant of the death of thattoo-faithful friend! In a hurrying accent he replied, "Neverforgotten! Oh, Helen. I asked for him life; and Heaven gave him longlife, even forever and ever!"
Helen's eyes met his, with a look of inquiry:
"That would mean he is gone before you?"
The countenance of Wallace answered her.
"Happy Edwin!" cried she, and the tears rained over her cheeks as shebent her head on her arms. Wallace continued--
"He laid down his life to preserve mine in the hovel of Lumloch. Thefalse Monteith could get no Scot to lay hands on their true defender;and even the foreign ruffians he brought to the task might have sparedthe noble boy, but an arrow from the traitor himself pierced his heart.Contention was then no more, and I resigned myself, to follow him."
"What a desert does the world become!" exclaimed Helen; then turning onWallace with a saint-like smile, she added, "I would hardly nowwithhold you. You will bear him Helen's love, and tell him how soon Ishall be with you. If your Father would not allow my heart to break,in his mercy he may take my soul in the prayers which I shall hourlybreathe to him!"
"Thou hast been lent to me as my sweet consolation here, my Helen,"replied he, "and the Almighty dispenser of that comfort will not longbanish you from the object of your innocent wishes."
While they thus poured into each other's bosoms the ineffable balm offriendship's purest tenderness, the eyes of Wallace insensibly closed."Your gentle influence," gently murmured he, "brings that sleep to myeyelids which has not visited them since I first entered these walls.Like my Marion, Helen, thy presence brings healing on its wings."
"Sleep, then," replied she, "and Marion's angel spirit will keep watchwith mine."