"So, my child," added she, "depend on it; before he was Lady Marion's
husband he must have heard sighs enough from the fairest in our land to
have turned the wits of half the male world. There is something in his
very look, did you meet him on the heath without better barg than a
shepherd's plaid, sufficient to declare him the noblest of men; and,
methinks, would excuse the gentlest lady in the land for leaving hall
and bower to share his sheep-cote. But, alas!" and then the playful
expression of her countenance altered, "he is now for none on earth!"
With these words she turned the subject to the confidential hours he
passed with the young adopted brother of his heart. Every fond emotion
seemed then centered in his wife and child. When Lady Ruthven repeated
his pathetic words to Edwin, she wept; she even sobbed, and paused to
recover; while the deep and silent tears which flowed from the heart to
the eyes of Lady Helen bathed the side of the couch on which she
leaned. "Alas!" cried Lady Ruthven, "that a man, so formed to grace
every relation in life-so noble a creature in all respects-so fond of a
husband-so full of parental tenderness-that he should be deprived of
the wife on whom he doted; that he should be cut off from all hope of
posterity; that when he shall die, nothing will be left of William
Wallace-breaks my heart!"
"Ah, my aunt," cried Helen, raising her head with animation, "will he
not leave behind him the liberty of Scotland? That is an offspring
worthy of his god-like soul.
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