Thus did Lady Helen commune with her own strangely-affected heart; sometimes doubting the evidence of her eyes; then, convinced of their fidelity, striving to allay the tumults in her mind. She seldom appeared from her own rooms. And such retirement was not questioned, her father being altogether engaged at the citadel, the countess absorbed in her own speculations, and Lady Ruthven alone interrupted the solitude of her niece by frequent visits. Little suspecting the cause of Helen’s prolonged indisposition, she generally selected Wallace for the subject of conversation. She descanted with enthusiasm on the rare perfection of his character; told her all that Edwin had related of his actions from the taking of Dumbarton to the present moment; and then bade Helen remark the miracle of such wisdom, valor, and goodness being found in one so young and handsome.

“So, my child,” added she, “depend on it; before he was Lady Marion’s husband he must have heard sighs enough from the fairest in our land to have turned the wits of half the male world. There is something in his very look, did you meet him on the heath without better barg than a shepherd’s plaid, sufficient to declare him the noblest of men; and, methinks, would excuse the gentlest lady in the land for leaving hall and bower to share his sheep-cote. But, alas!” and then the playful expression of her countenance altered, “he is now for none on earth!”

With these words she turned the subject to the confidential hours he passed with the young adopted brother of his heart. Every fond emotion seemed then centered in his wife and child. When Lady Ruthven repeated his pathetic words to Edwin, she wept; she even sobbed, and paused to recover; while the deep and silent tears which flowed from the heart to the eyes of Lady Helen bathed the side of the couch on which she leaned. “Alas!” cried Lady Ruthven, “that a man, so formed to grace every relation in life-so noble a creature in all respects-so fond of a husband-so full of parental tenderness-that he should be deprived of the wife on whom he doted; that he should be cut off from all hope of posterity; that when he shall die, nothing will be left of William Wallace-breaks my heart!”

“Ah, my aunt,” cried Helen, raising her head with animation, “will he not leave behind him the liberty of Scotland? That is an offspring worthy of his god-like soul.”

“True, my dear Helen; but had you ever been a parent, you would know that no achievements, however great, can heal the wound made in a father’s heart by the loss of a beloved child. And though Sir William Wallace never saw the infant, ready to bless his arms, yet it perished in the bosom of its mother; and that circumstance must redouble his affliction; horribly does it enhance the cruelty of the deed!”

“He has in all things been a direful sacrifice,” returned Helen; “and with God alone dwells the power to wipe the tears from his heart.”

“They flow not from his eyes,” answered her aunt; “but deep, deep is the grief that, my Edwin says, is settled there.”

While Lady Ruthven was uttering these words, shouts in the street made her pause; and soon recognizing the name of Wallace sounding from the lips of the rejoicing multitude, she turned to Helen: “Here comes our deliverer!” cried she, taking her by the hand; “we have not seen him since the first day of our liberty. It will do you good, as it will me, to look on his beneficent face!”

She obeyed the impulse of her aunt’s arm, and reached the window just as he passed into the courtyard. Helen’s soul seemed rushing from her eyes. “Ah! it is indeed he!” thought she; “no dream, no illusion, but his very self.”

He looked up; but not on her side of the building; it was to the window of Lady Mar; and as he bowed, he smiled. All the charms of that smile struck upon the soul of Helen; and, hastily retreating, she sunk breathless into a seat.

“O, no! that man cannot be born for the isolated state I have just lamented. He is not to be forever cut off from communicating that happiness to which he would give so much enchantment!” Lady Ruthven ejaculated this with fervor, her matron cheeks flushing with a sudden and more forcible admiration of the person and mien of Wallace. “There was something in that smile, Helen, which tells me all is not chilled within. And, indeed, how should it be otherwise? That generous interest in the happiness of all, which seems to flow in a tide of universal love, cannot spring from a source incapable of dispensing the softer screams of it again.”

Helen, whose well-poised soul was not affected by the agitation of her body (agitation she was determined to conquer), calmly answered: “Such a hope little agrees with all you have been telling me of his conversation with Edwin. Sir William Wallace will never love woman more; and even to name the idea seems an offense against the sacredness of his sorrow.”

“Blame me not, Helen,” returned Lady Ruthven, “that I forgot probability, in grasping at possibility which might give me such a nephew as Sir William Wallace, and you a husband worthy of your merits! I had always, in my own mind, fixed on the unknown knight for your future lord; and now that I find that he and the deliverer of Scotland are one, I am not to be looked grave at for wishing to reward him with the most precious heart that ever beat in a female breast.”

“No more of this, if you love me, my dear aunt!” returned Helen; “it neither can nor ought to be. I revere the memory of Lady Marion too much not to be agitated by the subject; so, no more!”-she was agitated. But at that instant Edwin throwing open the door, put an end to the conversation.

He came to apprise his mother that Sir William Wallace was in the state apartments, come purposely to pay his respects to her, not having even been introduced to her when the sudden illness of her niece in the castle had made them part so abruptly.

“I will not interrupt his introduction now,” said Helen, with a faint smile; “a few days’ retirement will strengthen me, and then I shall see our protector as I ought.”

“I will stay with you,” cried Edwin, “and I dare say Sir William Wallace will have no objection to be speedily joined by my mother; for, as I came along, I met my aunt Mar hastening through the gallery; and, between ourselves, my sweet coz, I do not think my noble friend quite ............