It was this denunciation which had struck to the soul of Helen; and
while the anxious Lady Ruthven removed her inanimate form into another
room, Bruce read the barbarous triumphs of this disappointed woman.
"No power on earth can save him now," continued she; "your doting heart
must yield him, Helen, to another rest than your bridal chamber. His
iron breast has met with others as adamantine as his own. A hypcrite!
he feels not pity; he knows no beat of human sympathies; and like a
rock, he falls, unpitied, undeplored--undeplored by all but you, lost,
self-deluded girl! My noble lord, the princely De Warenne, informs me
that William Wallace would be burned as a double traitor in England,
and a price is now set upon his head in Scotland! hence, there is
safety for him no more. Those his base-born heart has outraged shall
be avenged; and his cries for mercy, who will answer? No voice on
earth! None dare support the man whom friends and enemies abandon to
destruction!"
"Yes," cried Bruce, starting from his seat, "I will support him, thou
damned traitress! Bruce will declare himself! Bruce will throw
himself before his friend, and in his breast receive every arrow meant
for that godlike heart! Yes," cried he, glancing on the terrified
looks of Isabella, who believed that his delirium was returned.
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