Cummin turned pale and red
at each sentence; and at last, Bruce closing it:
"Now, then, faithful adherent of Robert Bruce!" cried he, "say what the
man deserves who, in these blood-red lines, petitions the death of his
lawful prince! Oh! thou arch-regicide! Doth not my very look kill
thee?"
Badenoch, his complexion turning of a livid hue, and his voice
faltering, attempted to deny the letter having been his handwriting, or
that he had any concern in the former embassy to Edward; then, finding
that these falsehoods only irritated Bruce to higher indignation, and
fearful of being immediately sacrificed to his just resentment, he
threw himself on his knees, and confessing each transaction, implored
his life in pity to the natural desire of self-preservation which,
alone, had precipitated him to so ungrateful a proceeding.
"Oh!" added he, "even this danger I have incurred upon your account!
For your ultimate advantage did I bring on my head the perils which now
fill me with dismay! Love alone for you made me hasten the execution
of William Wallace, that insidious friend, who would have crept from
your bosom into your throne. And then, fear of your mistaking the
motives of so good a service, betrayed me to throw myself into the arms
of Edward!"
"Bury thyself and crimes, thou foulest traitor, deep in the depths of
hell!" cried the prince, starting away with a tremendous gesture! "Out
of my sight forever, that I may not pollute these hands with thy
monstrous blood!" Till this moment Bruce was ignorant that Badenoch
had been the instigator in the murder of Wallace; and forgetting all
his own person wrongs in this more mighty injury, with tumultuous
horror, he turned from the coward to avoid the self-blame of stabbing
an unarmed wretch at his feet.
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