" Her head leaned on his breast. But how
different was the lambent flame which seemed to emanate from either
heart, as they now beat against each other, from the destructive fire
which shot from the burning veins of Lady mar, when she would have
polluted with her unchaste lips this shrine of a beloved wife, this
bosom consecrated to her sacred image! Wallace had shrunk from her, as
from the touch of some hideous contagion, but with Lady Helen it was
soul meeting soul, it was innocence resting on the bosom of virtue. No
thought that saints would not have approved was there, no emotion which
angels might not have shared, glowed in their grateful bosoms--she,
grateful to him; both grateful to God.
The man brought the horses from the stable. He knew that two strangers
had arrived at the castle, and not noticing Helen's stature, supposed
they were both before him. He had been informed by the servants, that
the taller of the two was the Count de Valois, and he now held the
stirrup for him to mount; But Wallace placed Helen on Bruce's horse,
and then vaulting on his own, put a piece of gold into the attendant's
hand.
"You will return, noble prince?" inquired the man.
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