"
"True, my dear Helen; but had you ever been a parent, you would know
that no achievements, however great, can heal the wound made in a
father's heart by the loss of a beloved child. And though Sir William
Wallace never saw the infant, ready to bless his arms, yet it perished
in the bosom of its mother; and that circumstance must redouble his
affliction; horribly does it enhance the cruelty of the deed!"
"He has in all things been a direful sacrifice," returned Helen; "and
with God alone dwells the power to wipe the tears from his heart."
"They flow not from his eyes," answered her aunt; "but deep, deep is
the grief that, my Edwin says, is settled there."
While Lady Ruthven was uttering these words, shouts in the street made
her pause; and soon recognizing the name of Wallace sounding from the
lips of the rejoicing multitude, she turned to Helen: "Here comes our
deliverer!" cried she, taking her by the hand; "we have not seen him
since the first day of our liberty. It will do you good, as it will
me, to look on his beneficent face!"
She obeyed the impulse of her aunt's arm, and reached the window just
as he passed into the courtyard.
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