"No son could love you dearer than I do. Ah, let
my duty, my affection, teach you to forget you have lost a child. I
will replace all to you but your Marion; and her, the pitying Son of
Mary will restore to you in the kingdom of heaven."
Wallace looked steadfastly at the young preacher. "'Out of the mouths
of babes we shall hear wisdom!' Thine, dear Edwin, I will lay to
heart. Thou shalt comfort me when my hermit-soul shuts out all the
world besides."
"Then I am indeed your brother!" cried the happy youth; "admit me but
to your heart, and no fraternal, no filial tie, shall be more strongly
linked than mine."
"What tender affections I can spare from those resplendent regions,"
answered Wallace, pointing to the skies, "are thine. The fervors of my
once ardent soul are Scotland's, or I die. But thou art too young, my
brother," added he, interrupting himself, "to understand all his
feelings, all the seeming contradictions, of my contending heart."
"Not so," answered Edwin, with a modest blush; "what was Lady Marion's,
you now devote to Scotland. The blaze of those affections which were
hers, would consume your being, did you not pour it forth on your
country.
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