She started from her knees, and with such a cry as
the widow of Sarepta uttered when she embraced her son from the dead,
Helen threw herself on the bosom of her cousin, and closed her eyes in
a blissful swoon-for even while every outward sense seemed fled, the
impression of joy played about her heart; and the animated throbbings
of Murray's breast, while he pressed her in his arms, at last aroused
her to recollection. Her glistening and uplifted eyes told all the
happiness, all the gratitude of her soul.
"My father? All are safe?" demanded she.
"All, my best beloved!" answered Murray, forgetting in his powerful
emotions of his heart, that what he felt, and what he uttered, were
beyond even a cousin's limits: "My uncle, the countess, Lord and Lady
Ruthven-all are safe."
"And Sir William Wallace?" cried she; "you do not mention him. I hope
no ill-"
"He is conqueror here!" interrupted Murray. "He has subdued every
obstacle between Berwick and Stirling; and he has sent me hither to set
you and the rest of the dear prisoners free."
Helen's heart throbbed with a new tumult as he spoke. She longed to
ask whether the unknown knight from whom she had parted in the hermit's
cell, had ever joined Sir William Wallace.
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