"Angels of
rest," cried she, "I thank ye for this blessed vision!"
The prior of St. Fillan might have read his own just sentiment in the
heart of Lady Helen. While the gentlest of human beings, she was an
evidence that an ardent and pious mind contains the true principles of
heroism. Hope, in such a mind, treads down impossibilities; and,
regardless of impediments or dangers, rushes forward to seize the
prize. In the midst of hosts, it feels a conqueror's power; or, when
its strength fails, sees, by the eye of faith, legions of angels
watching to support the natural weakness. Lady Helen knew that the
cause was just which had put the sword into the hand of Wallace; that
it was virtue which had prompted her father to second him; and where
justice is there are the wings of the Most High stretched out as a
shield!
This dream seemed prophetic. "Yes," cried she, "though thousands of
Edward's soldiers surrounded my father and his friend, I should not
despair. Thy life, O noble Wallace, was not give to be extinguished in
an hour! Thy morn has hardly risen, the perfect day must come that is
to develop thy greatness-that is to prove thee (and oh! gracious God,
grant my prayer!) the glory of Scotland!"
Owing to the fervor of her apostrophe, she did not observe the door of
the cell open, till the prior stood before her.
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