Helen grasped the pilot's rough
hand, and in a paroxysm of gratitude pressed it to her lips; then
forgetful of her engagements with the insensible man who stood unmoved
by his side, sprung into the boat. The Norwegian followed her, and in
a threatening tone demanded his hire. She now recollected it, and
putting her hand into her vest, gave him the string of pearls which had
been her necklace. He was satisfied, and the boat pushed off.
The cross, the cherished memorial of her hallowed meeting with Wallace
in the chapel of Snawdoun, and which always hung suspended on her
bosom, was now in her hand and pressed close to her heart. The rowers
plied their oars, and her eyes, with a gaze as if they would pierce the
horizon, looked intently onward, while the men labored through the
tide. Even to see the walls which contained Wallace, seemed to promise
her a degree of comfort she dared hardly hope herself to enjoy. At
last the awful battlements of England's state prison rose before her.
She could not mistake them. "That is the Tower," said one of the
rowers. A shriek escaped her, and instantly covering her face with her
hands, she tried to shut from her sight those very walls she had so
long sought amongst the clouds.
Pages:
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183