Chapter LXXXIV.
Tower Hill.
Long and silently had she watched his rest. So gentle was his breath,that he scarcely seemed to breathe; and often, during her sad vigils,did she stoop her cheek to feel the respiration which might still bearwitness that his outraged spirit was yet fettered to earth. Shetremblingly placed her hand on his heart, and still its warm beatsspake comfort to hers. The soul of Wallace, as well as his belovedbody, was yet clasped in her arms. "The arms of a sister enfold thee,"murmured she to herself; "they would gladly bear thee up, to lay theeon the bosom of thy martyred wife; and there, how wouldst thou smileupon and bless me! And shall we not meet so before the throne of Himwhose name is Truth?"
The first rays of the dawn shone upon his peaceful face just as thedoor opened, and a priest appeared. He held in his hands the sacredhost, and the golden dove, for performing the rites of the dying. Atthis sight, the harbinger of a fearful doom, the fortitude of Helenforsook her; and throwing her arms frantically over the sleepingWallace, she exclaimed, "He is dead! his sacrament is now with the Lordof Mercy!" Her voice awakened Wallace; he started from his position;and Helen seeing, with a wild sort of disappointment that he, whosegliding to death in his sleep she had even so lately deprecated, now,indeed, lived to mount the scaffold, in unutterable horror, fell backwith a heavy groan.
Wallace accosted the priest with a reverential welcome; and thenturning to Helen, tenderly whispered her, "My Helen! in this moment ofmy last on earth, O! engrave on thy heart, that--in the sacred words ofthe patriarch of Israel--I remember thee, in the kindness of thy youth!in the love of thy desolate espousals to me! when thou camest after meinto the wilderness, into a land thou didst not know, and comforted me!And shalt thou not, my soul's bride, be sacred unto our Lord? the Lordof the widow and the orphan! To Him I commit thee, in steadfast faiththat He will never forsake thee! Then, O, dearest part of myself, letnot the completion of my fate shake your dependence on the only Trueand Just. Rejoice that Wallace has been deemed worthy to die for hishaving done his duty. And what is death, my Helen, that we should shunit, even to rebelling against the Lord of Life? Is it not the doorwhich opens to us immortality? and in that blest moment who will regretthat he passed through it in the bloom of his years? Come, then,sister of my soul, and share with thy Wallace the last supper of hisLord; the pledge of the happy eternity to which, by His grace, I nowascend!"
Helen, conscience-struck and re-awakened to holy confidence by theheavenly composure of his manner, obeyed the impulse of his hand, andthey both knelt before the minister of peace. While the sacred riteproceeded, it seemed the indissoluble union of Helen's spirit with thatof Wallace: "My life will expire with his!" was her secret response tothe venerable man's exhortation to the anticipated passing soul; andwhen he sealed Wallace with the holy cross, under the last unction, asone who believed herself standing on the brink of eternity, she longedto share also that mark of death. At that moment the dismal toll of abell sounded from the top of the Tower. The heart of Helen paused.The warden and his train entered. "I will follow him," cried she,starting from her knees, "into the grave itself!"
What was said, what was done, she knew not, till she found herself onthe scaffold, upheld by the arm of Gloucester. Wallace stood beforeher, with his hands bound across and his noble head uncovered. Hiseyes were turned upward, with a martyr's confidence in the Power heserved. A silence, as of some desert waste, reigned throughout thethousands who stood below. The executioner approached to throw therope over the neck of his victim. At this sight, Helen, with a crythat was re-echoed by the compassionate spectators, rushed to his bosom.Wallace, with a mighty strength, burst the bands asunder whichconfined his arms, and clasping her to him with a force that seemed tomake her touch his very heart, his breast heaved as if his soul werebreaking from its outraged tenement; and, while his head sunk on herneck, he exclaimed, in a low and interrupted voice:
"My prayer is heard, Helen! Life's cord is cut by God's own hand! Mayhe preserve my country, and-- Oh! trust from my youth--"
He stopped--he fell; and with the shock, the hastily-erected scaffoldshook to its foundation. The pause was dreadful.
The executioner approached the prostrate chief. Helen was still lockedclose in his arms. The man stooped to raise his victim, but theattempt was beyond his strength. In vain he called on him--toHelen--to separate, and cease from delaying the execution of the law;no voice replied, no motion answered his loud remonstrance.Gloucester, with an agitation which hardly allowed him power to speakor move, remembered the words of Wallace, "that the rope of Edwardwould never sully his animate body!" and, bending to his friend, hespoke; but all was silent there. He raised the chieftain's head, and,looking on his face, found indeed the indisputable stamp of death.
"There," cried he, in a burst of grief, and letting it fall again uponthe insensible bosom of Helen--"there broke the noblest heart that everbeat in the breast of man!"
The priests, the executioners crowded round him at this declaration.But, while giving a command in a low tone to the warden, he took themotionless Helen in his arms, and leaving the astonished group roundthe noble dead, carried her from the scaffold back into the Tower.**
**The last words of Wallace were from the 71st Psalm--"My trust from myyouth! O Lord God, thou art my hope unto the end!"