"
"I could have sworn it!" returned Helen, rising from her chair; "all is
loyal, all is great and consistent there, Edwin!"
"He is, indeed, the perfect exemplar of all nobleness," rejoined the
youth; "and I believe I shall even love you better, my dear cousin,
because you seem to have so clear an apprehension of his real
character." He then proceeded, with all the animation of the most
zealous affection, to narrate to Helen the particulars of the late
scene on the Carse of Stirling. And while he deepened still more the
profound impression the virtues of Wallace had made on her heart, he
reopened its more tender sympathies by repeating, with even minuter
accuracy than he had done to his mother, details of those hours which
he passed with him in retirement. He spoke of the beacon-hill; of
moonlight walks in the camp, when all but the sentinels and his general
and himself were sunk in sleep.
These were the seasons when the suppressed feelings of Wallace would by
fits break from his lips, and at last pour themselves out,
unrestrainedly, to the ear of sympathy. As the young narrator
described all the endearing qualities of his friend, the cheerful
heroism with which he quelled every tender remembrance to do his duty
in the day-"for it is only in the night," said Edwin, "that my general
remembers Ellerslie"-Helen's tears again stole silently down her
cheeks.
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