design easy. The English soldier as guide, and a troop from Bothwell, must accompany him.
"Alas! my young lord," interposed Halbert, "suppose you should meet some of the English still loitering there?"
"And what of that, my honest Halbert? would not I and my trusty band make them clear the way? Is it not to give comfort to the deliverer of my uncle, that I seek the glen? and shall anything in mortal shape make Andrew Murray turn his back? No, Halbert! I was not born on St. Andrew's day for naught; and by his bright cross I swear either to lay Lady Wallace in the tomb of my ancestors, or leave my bones to bleach on the grave of hers."
Helen loved the resolution of her cousin; and believing that the now ravaged Ellerslie had no attractions to hold marauders amongst its ruins, she dismissed Lord Andrew to make his preparations, and turned herself to prefer her suit accordingly to her father.
Ere Halbert withdrew, he respectfully put her hand to his lips. "Good-night," continued she, "ere you see me again, I trust the earthly part of the angel now in paradise will be safe within these towers." He poured a thousand blessings on her head, and almost thought that he saw in her beautiful form one of heaven's inhabitants sent to bear away his dear mistress to her divine abode.
On entering her father's apartment, Lady Helen found him alone. She repeated to him the substance of her conversation with Wallace's faithful servant; "and my wish is," continued she, "to have the murdered lady's remains entombed in the cemetery of this castle."
The earl approved her request, with expressions of satisfaction at the filial affection which so lively a gratitude to his preserver evinced.
"May I, then, my dear father," returned she, "have your permission to pay our debt of gratitude to Sir William Wallace to the utmost of our power?"
"You are at liberty, my noble child, to do as you please. My vassals, my coffers, are all at your command."
Helen kissed his hand. "May I have what I please from the Bothwell armory?"
"Command even there," said the earl; "your uncle Bothwell is too true a
Scot to grudge a sword in so pious a cause."
Helen threw her arms about her father's neck, thanking him tenderly, and with a beating heart retired to prosecute her plans. Murray, who met her in the anteroom, informed her that fifty men, the sturdiest in the glen, awaited her orders; while she, telling her cousin of the earl's approval, took the sacred banner in her hand, and followed him to the gallery in the hall.
The moment she appeared, a shout of joy bade her welcome. Murray waved his hands in token of silence; while she, smiling with the benignity that spoke her angel errand, spoke with agitation:
"My brave friends!" said she, "I thank you for the ardor with which, by this night's enterprise, you assist me to pay, in part, the everlasting tribute due to the man who preserved to me the blessing of a father.
"With that spirit, then," returned she, "I address ye with greater confidence. Who amongst you will shrink from following this standard to the field for Scotland's honor? Who will refuse to make himself the especial guardian of the life of Sir William Wallace? and who, in the moment of peril, will not stand by him to the last?
"None are her," cried a young man, advancing before his fellows, "who would not gladly die in his defense."
"We swear it," burst from every lip at once.
She bowed her head, and said, "Return from Ellerslie to-morrow, with the bier of its sainted mistress, I will then bestow upon every man in this band a war-bonnet plumed with my colors; and this banner shall then lead you to the side of Sir William Wallace. In the shock of battle look at its golden ensign, and remember that God not only armeth the patriot's hand, but shieldeth his heart. In this faith, be ye the bucklers which Heaven sends to guard the life of Wallace; and, so honored, exult in your station, and expect the future gratitude of Scotland."
"Wallace and Lady Helen! to death or liberty!" was the animated response to this exhortation; and smiling and crossing her hands over her bosom, in token of thanks of them and to Heaven, she retired in the midst of their acclamations. Murray, ready armed for his expedition, met her at the door. Restored to his usual vivacity by the spirit-moving emotions which the present scene awakened in his heart, he forgot the horror which had aroused his zeal, in the glory of some anticipated victory; and giving her a gay salutation, led her back to her apartments, where the English soldier awaited her commands. Lady Helen, with a gentle grace, commended his noble resentment of Heselrigge's violence.
"Lands in Mar shall be yours," added she, "or a post of honor in the little army the earl is now going to raise. Speak but the word, and you shall find, worthy Englishman, that neither a Scotsman, nor his daughter, know what it is to be ungrateful."
The blood mounted into the soldier's cheek. "I thank you, sweetest lady, for this generous offer; but, as I am an Englishman, I dare not accept it. My arms are due to my own country; and whether I am tied to it by lands or possessions, or have naught but my English blood and my oath to my king to bind me, still I should be equally unwarranted in breaking these bonds. I left Heselrigge because he dishonored my country; and for me to forswear her, would be to make myself infamous. Hence, all I ask is, that after I have this night obeyed your gracious commands, in leading your men to Ellerslie, the Earl of Mar will allow me instantly to depart for the nearest port."
Lady Helen replied that she revered his sentiments too sincerely to insult them by any persuasions to the contrary; and taking a diamond clasp from her bosom, she put it into his hand; "Wear it in remembrance of your virtue, and of Helen Mar's gratitude."
The man kissed it respectfully, and bowing, swore to preserve so distinguishing a gift to the latest hour of his existence.
Helen retired to her chamber to finish her task; and Murray, bidding her good-night, repaired to the earl's apartments, to take his final orders before he and his troop set out for the ruins of Ellerslie.
Chapter VIII.
Bothwell Chapel.
Night having passed over the sleepless heads of the inhabitants of Bothwell Castle, as soon as the sun arose, the Earl of Mar was carried from his chamber, and laid on a couch in the state apartment. His lady had not yet left the room of his daughter, by whose side she had lain the whole night in hopes of infecting her with the fears which possessed himself.
Helen replied that she could see no reason for such direful apprehension, if her father, instead of joining Wallace in person, would, when he had sent him succors, retire with his family into the Highlands, and there await the issue of the contest. "It is too late to retreat, dear madam," continued she; "the first blow against the public enemy was struck in defense of Lord Mar; and would you have my father act so base a part, as to abandon his preserver to the wrath such generous assistance has provoked?"
"Alas, my child!" answered the countess, "what great service will he have done to me or to your father, if he deliver him from one danger, only to plunge him into another? Edward's power in this country is too great to be resisted now. Have not most of our barons sworn fealty to him? and are not the potent families of the Cummin, the Soulis, and the March, all in his interest? You may perhaps say, that most of these are my relations, and that I may turn them which way I will; but if I have no influence with a husband, it would be madness to expect it over more distant kindred. How, then, with such a host against him, can your infatuated father venture, without despair, to support the man who breaks the peace with England?"
"Who can despair, honored lady," returned Helen, "in so just a cause? Let us rather believe with our good King David, that 'Honor must hope always; for no real evil can befall the virtuous, either in this world or in the next!' Were I a man, the justice that leads on the brave Wallace would nerve my arm with the strength of a host. Besides, look at our country; God's gift of freedom is stamped upon it. Our mountains are his seal. Plains are the proper territories of tyranny; there