"My husband, and my king!" gently exclaimed Isabella, sinking on her
knee before him, and clasping his hand to her lips.
"Hearest thou that, my beloved Helen?" cried Bothwell, touching the
clasped hands which rested on the coffin. He turned pale, and looked
on Bruce. Bruce, in the glad moment of his joy at this happy
consummation of so many years of blood, observed not his glance, but in
exulting accents exclaimed, "Look up, my sister; and let thy soul,
discoursing with our Wallace, tell him that Scotland is free, and
Bruce's king indeed!"
She spoke not, she moved not. Bothwell raised her clay-cold face.
"That soul has fled, my lord!" said he; "but from yon eternal sphere,
they now together look upon your joys. Here let their bodies rest; for
'they loved in their lives, and in their deaths they shall not be
divided!"
Before the renewing of the moon, whose waning light witnessed their
solemn obsequies, the aim of Wallace's life, the object of Helen's
prayers, was accomplished. Peace reigned in Scotland. The discomfited
King Edward died of chagrin in Carlisle; and his humbled son and
successor sent to offer such honorable terms of pacification, that
Bruce gave them acceptance, and a lasting tranquility spread prosperity
and happiness throughout the land.
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