"
Her heart beat with a terror which this assurance could hardly subdue.
At last she said in an agitated voice, "Forgive me if my senses are a
little strayed! I have suffered so much, and this release seems so
miraculous, that at moments I hardly believe it real. I wish daylight
were come that I might be convinced." When she had uttered these
words, she suddenly stopped, and then added, "But I am very weak to
talk thus; I believe my late terrors have disordered my head."
"What you feel, lady, is only natural," observed Bruce; "I experienced
the same when I first regained my liberty, and found myself on the road
to join Sir William Wallace. Dear, indeed, is liberty; but dearer is
the friend whose virtues make our recovered freedom sure."
"Who speaks to me?" said Helen, in a low voice to Wallace, and raising
her head from that now supporting arm, on which she felt she did but
too much delight to lean.
"One," answered Wallace, in the same tone, "who is not to be publicly
known until occasion demands it; one who, I trust in God, will one day
seal the happiness of Scotland--Robert Bruce."
That name which, when in her idea it belonged to Wallace, used to raise
such emotions in her breast, she now heard with an indifference that
surprised her.
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