There was something so
celestial in the maid, as she stood in her white robes, true emblems of
her own innocence, before the divine footstool, that, although her
prayers were delivered with a pathos which told they sprung from a
heart more than commonly interested in their object, yet every word and
look breathed so eloquently the virgin purity of her soul, the hallowed
purpose of her petitions, that Wallace, drawn by the sympathy with
which kindred virtues ever attract spirit to spirit, did not hesitate
to discover himself. He stepped from the shadow which involved him.
The pale light of the tapers shone upon his advancing figure. Helen's
eyes fell upon him as she turned round. She was transfixed and silent.
He moved forward. "Lady Helen," said he, in a respectful and even
tender voice. At the sound, a fearful rushing of shame seemed to
overwhelm her faculties; for she knew not how long he might have been
in the church, and that he had not heard her beseech Heaven to make him
less the object of her thoughts. She sunk on her knees beside the
altar, and covered her face with her hands.
The action, the confusion might have betrayed her secret to Wallace.
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