I will grant it, and then
your happy destiny, ever fortunate Wallace, must do the rest."
This scheme being approved, a litter of hurdles was formed for the
invalid monarch, and the old woman's pallet spread upon it.
"I will return it to you, my good widow," said Baliol, "and with proofs
of my gratitude."
The two friends assisted the king to rise. When he set his food on the
floor, he felt so surprisingly better that he though he could ride the
journey. Wallace overruled this wish, and with Bruce supported his
emaciated figure toward the door. The widow stood to see her guests
depart. As Baliol mounted the litter, he slid a piece of gold into her
hand. Wallace saw not what the king had given and gave a purse as his
reward. Bruce had naught to bestow. He had left Durham with little,
and that little was expended.
"My good widow," said he, "I am poor in everything but gratitude. In
lieu of gold you must accept my prayers."
"May they, sweet youth," replied she, "return on your own head, giving
you bread from the barren land and water out of sterile rock!"
"And have you no blessing for me, mother?" asked Wallace, turning round
and regarding her with an impressive look; "some spirit you wist not
of, speaks in your words.
Pages:
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934