That, indeed, seemed the affection which now
reigned in his bosom. He felt as a father toward Scotland. For every
son and daughter of that harassed country, he was ready to lay down his
life. Edwin he cherished in his heart as he would have done the
dearest of his own offspring. It was as a parent to whom a beloved and
prodigal son had returned, that he looked on Bruce. But Helen, of all
Scotland's daughters, she was the most precious in his eyes; set love
aside, and no object without the touch of that all-pervading passion
could he regard with more endearing tenderness than he did Helen Mar.
The shades of night vanished before the bright uprise of the king of
day, and with them her slumbers. She stirred; she awoke. The lark was
then soaring with shrill cadence over her head; its notes pierced the
ear of Bruce, and he started on his feet.
"You have allowed me to sleep, Wallace?"
"And why not?" replied he. "Here it was safe for all to have slept.
Yet had there been danger, I was at my post to have called you." He
gently smiled as he spoke.
"Whence, my friend," cried Bruce, with a respondent beam on his
countenance, "did you draw the ethereal essence that animates your
frame? You toil for us--watch for us, and yet you never seem fatigued,
never discomposed! How is this? What does it mean?"
"That the soul is immortal," answered Wallace; "that it has a godlike
power given to it by the Giver of all good, even while on earth, to
subdue the wants of this mortal frame.
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