She held
a golden casket in her hand, out of which the sage drew the unctions he
applied.
At the sound of Wallace's voice, who spoke in a suppressed tone to
Ruthven while entering the chamber, the wounded prince started on his
arm to greet his friend; but he as instantly fell back. Wallace
hastened forward. When Bruce recovered from the swoon into which the
suddenness of his attempt to rise had thrown him, he felt a hand
grasping his; he guessed to whom it belonged, and gently pressed it,
smiled; a moment afterward he opened his eyes, and in a low voice,
articulated from his wounded lips:
"My dear Wallace, you are victorious?"
"Completely so, my prince and king," returned he, in the same tone;
"all is now plain before you; speak but the word, and render Scotland
happy!"
"Not yet; oh, not yet!" whispered he. "My more than brother, allow
Bruce to be himself again before he is known in the land of his
fathers! This cruel wound in my head must heal first, and then I may
again share your dangers and your glory! Oh, Wallace, not a Southron
must taint our native lands when my name is proclaimed in Scotland!"**
**It is a curious circumstance, that when the body of Bruce was
discovered a few years ago in the abbey of Dunfermline, his head
retained all its teeth excepting two in front, evidently originally
injured by a stroke of violence.
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