It was not until the next morning that she recovered to perfect
animation, and then her ravings were horrible and violent. She accused
herself of the murder of Sir William Wallace. She seemed to hear him
upbraid her with his fate: and her shrieks and tremendous ejaculations
so fearfully presented the scene of his death before the eyes of her
attendants, that her women fled and none others of that sex would
afterward venture to approach her. In these fearful moments the
dreadful confession of all her premeditated guilt, of her infuriate and
disappointed passion for Wallace, and her vowed revenge, were revealed,
under circumstances so shocking, that the English governor declared to
the King of Scots, while he conducted him toward her apartment, that he
would rather wear out his life in a rayless dungeon, then endure one
hour of her agonies.
There was a dead silence in her chamber as they approached the door.
Mowbray cautiously opened it, and discovered the object of their visit.
She was seated at the further end of the room on the floor, enveloped
in a mass of scarlet velvet she had drawn off her bed; her hands
clasped her knees, and she bent forward, with her eyes fixed on the
door at which they entered.
Pages:
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253