The countess’ chivalric tribute from the window gave Wallace reason to anticipate her company in his visit to Lady Ruthven; and on finding the room vacant, he dispatched Edwin for his mother, that he might not be distressed by the unchecked advances of a woman whom, as the wife of Lord Mar, he was obliged to see, and whose weakness he pitied, as she belonged to a sex for which, in consideration of the felicity once bestowed on him by woman, he felt a peculiar tenderness. Respect the countess he could not; nor, indeed, could he feel any gratitude for a preference which seemed to him to have no foundations in the only true basis of love-the virtues of the object. For, as she acted against every moral law, against his declared sentiments, it was evident that she placed little value on his esteem; and therefore he despised, while he pitied, a human creature ungovernably yielding herself to the sway of her passions.
In the midst of thoughts so little to her advantage, Lady Mar entered the room. Wallace turned to meet her; while she, hastening toward him, and dropping on one knee, exclaimed, “Let me be the first woman in Scotland to acknowledge its king!”
Wallace put forth both his hands to raise her; and smiling, replied, “Lady Mar, you would do me an honor I can never claim.”
“How?” cried she, starting up. “What, then, was that cry I heard? Did they not call you ‘prince,’ and ‘sovereign?’ Did not my Lord Buchan-”
Confused, disappointed, overpowered, she left the sentence unfinished, sunk on a seat, and burst into tears. At that moment she saw her anticipated crown fall from her head, and having united the gaining of Wallace with his acquisition of this dignity, all her hopes seemed again the sport of winds. She felt as if Wallace had eluded her power, for it was by the ambition-serving acts of her kinsman that she had meant to bind him to her love; and now all was rejected, and she wept in despair. He gazed at her with amazement. What these emotions and his elevation had to do with each other, he could not guess; but, recollecting her manner of mentioning Lord Buchan’s name, he answered, “Lord Buchan I have just seen. He and Lord March came upon the carse at the time I went thither to meet my gallant countrymen; and these two noblemen, though so lately the friends of Edward, united with the rest in proclaiming me regent.”
This word dried the tears of Lady Mar. She saw the shadow of royalty behind it; and summoning artifice, to conceal the joy of her heart, she calmly said, “Do not too severely condemn this weakness; it is not that of vain wishes for your aggrandizement. You are the same to Joanna Mar whether as a monarch or a private man, so long as you possess that supremacy in all, excellence which first gained her esteem. It is for Scotland’s sake alone that I wish you to be her king. You have taught me to forget all selfish desires-to respect myself,” cried she; “and, from this hour I conjure you to wipe from your memory all my folly-all my love-”
With the last word her bosom heaved tumultuously, and she rose in agitation. Wallace now gazed on her with redoubled wonder. She saw it; and hearing a foot in the passage, turned, and grasping his hand, said in a soft and hurried tone, “Forgive, that which is entwined with my heart should cost me some pangs to wrest thence again. Only respect me and I am comforted.” Wallace in silence pressed her hand, and the door opened.
Lady Ruthven entered. The countess, whose present aim was to throw the virtue of Wallace off its guard, and to take that by sap, which she found resisted open attack, with a penitential air disappeared by another passage. Edwin’s gentle mother was followed by the same youth who had brought Helen’s packet to Berwick. It was Walter Hay, anxious to be recognized by his benefactor, to whom his recovered health had rendered his person strange. Wallace received him with kindness, and told him to bear his grateful respects to his lady for her care of her charge. Lord Ruthven with others soon entered; and at the appointed hour they attended their chief to the citadel.
The council-hall was already filled with the lords who had brought their clans to the Scottish standard. On the entrance of Wallace they rose; and Mar coming forward, followed by the heralds and other officers of ceremony, saluted him with the due forms of regent, and led him to the throne. Wallace ascended; but it was only to take thence a packet which had been deposited for him on its cushion, and coming down again, he laid the parchment on the council-table.
“I can do all things best,” said he, “when I am upon a level with my friends.” He then broke the seal of the packet. It was from the Prince of Wales, agreeing to Wallace’s proposed exchange of prisoners, but denouncing him as the instigator of the rebellion, and threatening him with a future judgment from his incensed king for the mischief he had wrought in the realm of Scotland. The letter was finished with a demand that the town and citadel of Berwick should be surrendered to England, as a gauge for the quiet of the borders till Edward should return.
Kirkpatrick scoffed at the audacious menace of the young prince. “He should come amongst us, like a man,” cried he; “and we would soon show him who it is that works mischief in Scotland! Ay, even on his back, we would write the chastisement due to the offender.”
“Be not angry with him, my friend,” returned Wallace; “these threats are words of course from the son of Edward. Did he not fear both our rights and our arms, he would not so readily accord with our propositions. You see every Scottish prisoner is to be on the borders by a certain day; and to satisfy that impatient valor (which I, your friend, would never check, but when it loses itself in a furor too nearly resembling that of our enemies), I intend to make your prowess once again the theme of their discourse. You will retake your castles in Annandale!”
“Give me but the means to recover those stout gates of our country,” cried Kirkpatrick, “and I will warrant you to keep the keys in my hand till doomsday.”
Wallace resumed: “Three thousand men are at your command. When the prisoners pass each other on the Cheviots, the armistice will terminate. You may then fall back upon Annandale, and that night, light your own fires in Torthorald! Send the expelled garrison into Northumberland, and show this haughty prince that we know how to replenish his depopulated towns!”
“But first I will set my mark on them!” cried Kirkpatrick, with one of those laughs which ever preluded some savage proposal.
“I can guess it would be no gentle one,” returned Wallace. “Why, brave knight, will you ever sully the fair field of your fame with an ensanguined tide?”
“It is the fashion of the times,” replied Kirkpatrick, roughly, “You only, my victorious general, who, perhaps, had most cause to go with the stream, have chosen a path of your own. But look around! see our burns, which the Southrons made run with Scottish blood; our hillocks, swollen with the cairns of our slain; the highways blocked up with the graves of the murdered; our lands filled with maimed clansmen, who purchased life of our ruthless tyrants, by the loss of eyes and limbs! And, shall we talk of gentle methods, with the perpetrators of these horrors? Sir William Wallace, you would make women of us!”
“Shame, shame, Kirkpatrick!” resounded from every voice, “you insult the regent!”
Kirkpatrick stood, proudly frowning, with his left hand on the hilt of his sword. Wallace, by a motion, hushed the tumult, and spoke: “No true chief of Scotland can offer me greater respect, than frankly to trust me with his sentiments.”
“Though we disagree in some points,” cried Kirkpatrick, “I am ready to die ............