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HOME > Classical Novels > The Scottish Chiefs > Chapter 10. St. Fillan’s.
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Chapter 10. St. Fillan’s.
As soon as Murray found her within his arms, he clasped her insensible form to his breast, and carrying her up the steps, drew the bolt of the door. It opened to his pressure, and discovered a large monastic cell, into which the daylight shone through one long narrow window. A straw pallet, an altar, and a marble basin, were the furniture. The cell was solitary the owner being then at mass in the chapel of the monastery. Murray laid down his death-like burden on the monk’s bed. He then ventured (believing, as it was to restore so pure a being to life, it could not be sacrilege) to throw some of the holy water upon his cousin’s face; and by means of a little chalice, which stood upon the altar, he poured some into her mouth. At last opening her eyes, she recognized the figure of her young kinsman leaning over her. The almost paralyzed Halbert stood at her feet. “Blessed Virgin! am I yet safe, and with my dear Andrew! Oh! I feared you were slain!” cried she, bursting into tears.

“Thank God, we are both safe,” answered he; “comfort yourself, my beloved cousin! you are now on holy ground; this is the cell of the prior of St. Fillan. None but the hand of an infidel dare wrest you from this sanctuary.”

“But my father, and Lady Mar?” And again her tears flowed.

“The countess, my gracious lady,” answered Halbert, “since you could not be found in the castle, is allowed to accompany your father to Dumbarton Castle, there to be treated with every respect, until De Valence receives further orders from King Edward.”

“But for Wallace!” cried she, “ah, where are now the succors that were to be sent to him! And without succors, how can he, or you, dearest Andrew, rescue my father from this tyranny!”

“Do not despair,” replied Murray; “look but at the banner you held fast, even while insensible; your own hands have engraven my answer-God armeth the patriot! Convinced of that, can you still fear for you father? I will join Wallace to-morrow. Your own fifty warriors await me at the bottom of Cartlane Craigs; and if any treachery should be meditated against my uncle, that moment we will make the towers of Dumbarton shake to their foundation.”

Helen’s reply was a deep sigh: she though it might be Heaven’s will that her father, like the good Lord Douglas, should fall a victim to royal revenge; and so sad were her forebodings, that she hardly dared to hope what the sanguine disposition of her cousin promised. Grimsby now came forward; and unloosing an iron box from under his arm, put it into the hands of Lord Murray.

“This fatal treasure,” said he, “was committed to my care by the earl, your uncle, to deliver to the prior of St. Fillan’s.”

“What does it contain?” demanded Murray; “I never saw it before.”

“I know not its contents,” returned the soldier; “it belongs to Sir William Wallace.”

“Indeed!” ejaculated Helen. “If it be treasure, why was it not rather sent to him!”

“But how, honest soldier,” asked Murray, “did you escape with it, and Halbert, too! I am at a loss to conjecture, but by miracle.”

He replied, that as soon as the English, and their Scottish partisans under Lord Soulis, had surprised the castle, he saw that his only chance of safety was to throw off the bonnet and plaid, and mix amongst the numerous soldiers who had taken possession of the gates. His armor, and his language, showed he was their countryman; and they easily believed that he had joined the plunderers as a volunteer from the army, which at a greater distance beleaguered the castle. The story of his desertion from the Lanark garrison had not yet reached those of Glasgow and Dumbarton; and one or two men, who had known him in former expeditions, readily reported that he had been drafted into the present one. Their recognition warranted his truth; and he had no difficulty, after the carnage in the state apartment, to make his way to the bed-chamber where Lord Aymer de Valence had ordered Lord Mar to be carried. He found the earl alone, and lost in grief. He knew not but that his nephew, and even his daughter and wife, had fallen beneath the impetuous swords of the enemy. Astonished at seeing the soldier walking at large, he expressed his surprise with some suspicions. But Grimsby told him the strategem he had used, and assured him Lord Andrew had not been seen since the onset. This information inspired the earl with a hope that his nephew might have escaped: and when the soldier also said, that he had seen the countess led by Lord Soulis across the hall toward the Lady Helen’s apartments, while he overheard him promising them every respect, the earl seemed comforted. “But how,” inquired he of Grimsby, “has this hard fate befallen us? Have you learned how De Valence knew that I meant to take up arms for my country?”

When the soldier was relating this part of the conference, Murray interrupted him with the same demand.

“On that head I cannot fully satisfy you,” replied he; “I could only gather from the soldiers that a sealed packet had been delivered to Lor Aymer de Valence late last night at Dumbarton Castle. Soulis was then there; and he immediately set off to Glasgow, for the followers he had left in that town. Early this morning he joined De Valence and his legions on Bothwell Moor. The consequences there you know. But they do not end at Bothwell. The gallant Wallace-”

At that name, so mentioned, the heart of Helen grew cold.

“What of him?” exclaimed Murray.

“No personal harm yet happened to Sir William Wallace,” replied Grimsby; “but at the same moment in which De Valence gave orders for his troops to march on Bothwell, he sent others to intercept that persecuted knight’s escape from the Cartlane Craigs.”

“That accursed sealed packet,” cried Murray, “has been the traitor! Some villian in Bothwell Castle must have written it. Whence else could have come the double information? And if so,” added he, with tremendous emphasis, “may the blast of slavery ever pursue him and his posterity!”

Helen shuddered, as the amen to this frightful malediction was echoed by the voices of Halbert and the soldier. The latter continued:

“When I informed Lord Mar of these measures against Wallace, he expressed a hope that your first detachment to his assistance might, with yourself, perhaps, at its head, elude their vigilance, and join his friend. This discourse reminded him of the iron box. ‘It is in that closet,’ said his lordship, pointing to an opposite door; you will find it beneath the little altar, before which I pay my daily duties to the allwise Dispenser of the fates of men; else where would be my confidence now? Take it thence, and buckle it to your side.”

“I obeyed, and he then proceeded: ‘There are two passages in this house which lead to the sanctuary. The one nearest to us is the safest for you. A staircase from the closet you have just left will lead you directly into the chapel. When there hasten to the image of the Virgin, and slip aside the marble tablet on the back of the pedestal: it will admit you to a flight of steps; descend them, and at the bottom you will find a door, that will convey you into a range of cellars. Lift up the largest flag-stone in the second, and you will be conducted through a dark vault to an iron door; draw the bolt, and remain in the cell it will open to you till the owner enters. He is the prior of St. Fillan’s and a Murray. Give him this golden cross, which he well knows, as a mark you come from me; and say it is my request that he assist you to gain the sea-shore. As for the iron box, tell him to preserve it as he would his life; and never to give it up, but to myself, my children, or to Sir William Wallace, it’s rightful master.’”

“Alas!” cried Halbert, “that he had never been its owner! that he had never brought it to Ellerslie, to draw down misery on his head! Ill-omened trust! whatever it contains, its presence carried blood and sorrow in its train. Wherever it has been deposited war and murder have followed: I trust my dear master will never see it more!”

“He may indeed never see it more!” murmured Helen, in a low voice. “Where are now my proud anticipations of freedom to Scotland? Alas, Andrew,” said she, taking his hand, and weeping over it. “I have been too pre............
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