She would then
start and sigh, and repeat his words to herself, but all was serene in
her bosom. For it seemed as if the contemplation of so much loveliness
of soul in so noble a form, soothed instead of agitated her heart.
"What a king will he be?" thought she; "with what transport would the
virtuous Wallace set the Scottish crown on so noble a brow."
Such were her meditations and feelings, when she was brought a prisoner
to Stirling. And when she heard of the victories of Wallace, she could
not but think that the brave arm of her knight was there, and that he,
with the renowned champion of Scotland, would fly, on the receipt of
her letter, to Stirling, there to repeat the valiant deeds of
Dumbarton. The first blast of the Scottish trumpet under the walls
found her, as she had said, upon her knees, and kept her there, for
hardly with any intermission, with fast and prayer did she kneel before
the altar of Heaven-till the voice of Andrew Murray at midnight called
her to freedom and to happiness.
Wallace, and perhaps her nameless hero with him, had again conquered!
His idea dwelt in her heart and faltered on her tongue; and yet, in
reciting the narrative of her late sufferings to her father, when she
came to the mentioning of the stranger's conduct to her-with an
apprehensive embarrassment she felt her growing emotions as she drew
near the subject; and, hurrying over the event, she could only excuse
herself for such new perturbations by supposing that the former treason
of Lady Mar now excited her alarm, with fear she should fix it on a new
object.
Pages:
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511