This lock shall be my pennon; and what Scotsman will look on
that, and shrink from his colors! Here, Helen, my child," cried he,
addressing the young lady, "before to-morrow's dawn, have this hair
wrought into my banner. It will be a patriot's standard; and let his
own irresistible words be the motto-God armeth me."
Helen advanced with awestruck trepidation. Having been told by the
earl of the generous valor of Wallace, and of the cruel death of his
lady, she had conceived a gratitude and a pity deeper than language
could express, for the man who had lost so much by succoring one so
dear to hear. She took the lock, waving in yellow light upon her
hands, and, trembling with emotion, was leaving the room, when she
heard her cousin throw himself on his knees.
"I beseech you, my honored uncle," cried he, "if you have love for me,
or value for my future fame, allow me to be the bearer of your banner
to Sir William Wallace."
Helen stopped at the threshold to hear the reply.
"You could not, my dear nephew," returned the earl, "have asked me any
favor I could grant with so much joy. To-morrow I will collect the
peasantry of Bothwell, and with those, and my own followers, you shall
join Wallace the same night.
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