The second matin bell sounded from the abbey before the eyes of Wallace opened from the deep sleep which had sealed them. A bath refreshed him from every toil, then renewing the stain on his face and hands with the juice of a nut which he carried about him, and once more covering his martial figure and golden hair with the minstrel’s cassock and cowl, he rejoined his friend.

Bruce had previously affected to consider the senachie as still disordered by his last night’s excess, and ordering him from his presence for at least a day, commanded that the traveling minstrel should be summoned to supply his place.

The table was spread when Wallace entered, and several servants were in attendance. Bruce hastily rose and would have embraced him, so did his comforted heart spring to meet his friend; but before these people it would have been more than imprudent, and hailing him with only one of his love-beaming looks, he made a sign to him to take his place at a board near his own. To prevent suspicioin in the attendants (some of whom might be spies of Edward’s), during the repast he discoursed with Wallace on subjects relative to northern literature, repeating many passages apposite to his own heroic sentiments, from Ossian and other Scottish bards.

The meal finished, Wallace, to maintain his assumed character while the servants were removing the table, was tuning his harp when the Earl of Gloucester entered the room. The earl told Bruce the king had required the attendance of the border minstrel, and that after searching over the castle, the royal seneschal had at last discovered he was in the keep with him. On this being intimated to Gloucester, he chose rather to come himself to demand the harper from his friend, than to subject him to the insolence of the royal servants. The king desired to hear “The Triumph,” with which the minstrel had so much pleased the queen. Bruce turned pale at this message; and was opening his mouth to utter a denial, when Wallace, who read in his countenance what he was going to say, and aware of the consequences, immediately spoke:

“If my lord Bruce will grant permission, I should wish to comply with the King of England’s request.”

“Minstrel!” replied Bruce, casting on him a powerful expression of what was passing in his mind, “you know not, perhaps that the King of England is at enmity with me, and cannot mean well to any one who has been my guest, or servant! The Earl of Gloucester will excuse your attendance in the presence.”

“Not for my life or the minstrel’s!” replied the earl; “the king would suspect some mystery, and this innocent man might fall into peril. But as it is, his majesty merely wishes to hear him play and sing, and I pledge myself he shall return in safety.”

Further opposition would only have courted danger, and with as good a grace as he could assume, Bruce gave his consent. A page who followed Gloucester took up the harp, and with a glance at his friend, which spoke the fearless mind with which he ventured into the power of his enemy, Wallace accompanied Gloucester out of the room.

The earl moved swiftly forward, and leading him through a double line of guards, the folding-doors of the royal apartment were thrown open by two knights in waiting, and Wallace found himself in the royal presence. Perforated with wounds which the chief’s own hand had given him, the king lay upon a couch overhung with a crimson-velvet canopy, with long golden fringes which swept the floor. His crown stood on a cushion at his head, and his queen, the blooming Margaret of France, sat full of smiles at his feet. The young Countess of Gloucester occupied a seat by her side.

The countess, who from indisposition had not been at court the preceding day, fixed her eyes on the minstrel as he advanced into the middle of the room, where the page, by Gloucester’s orders, planted the harp. She observed the manner of his obeisance to the king and queen, and to herself, and the queen whispering her with a smile, said, while he was taking his station at the harp, “Have your British troubadours usually such an air as that? Am I right, or am I wrong?”

“Quite right,” replied the countess in as low a voice; “I suppose he has sung of kings and heroes till he cannot help assuming their step and demeanor!”

“But how did he come by those eyes?” answered the queen. “If singing of Reuther’s ‘beamy gaze’ have so richly endowed his own, by getting him to teach me his art, I may warble myself into a complexion as fair as any northern beauty!”

“But then his must not be the subject of your song,” whispered the countess with a laugh, “for methinks it is rather of the Ethiop hue!”

During this short dialogue, which was heard by none but the two ladies, Edward was speaking with Gloucester, and Wallace leaned upon his harp.

“That is enough,” said the king to his son-in-law; “now let me hear him play.”

The earl gave the word, and Wallace, striking the chords with the master hand of genius, called forth such strains and uttered such tones from his full and richly-modulated voice, that the king listened with wonder, and the queen and countess scarcely allowed themselves to breathe. He sung the parting of Reuther and his bride, and their souls seemed to pant upon his notes; he changed his measure, and their bosoms heaved with the enthusiasm which spoke from his lips and hand, for he urged the hero to battle, he described the conflict, he mourned the slain, he sung the glorious triumph; as the last sweep of the harp rolled its lofty diapason on the ear of the king, the monarch deigned to pronounce him unequaled in his art. Excess of delight so agitated the more delicate frames of the ladies, that while they poured their encomiums on the minstrel, they wiped the glistening tears form their cheeks. The queen approached him, laid her hand upon the harp, and touching the strings with a light finger, said with a sweet smile, “You must remain with the king’s musicians, and teach me how to charm as you do!” Wallace replied to this innocent speech with a smile sweet as her own, and bowed.

The countess drew near. Though not much older than the youthful queen, she had been married twice, and being therefore more acquainted with the proprieties of life, her compliments were uttered in a form more befitting her rank, and the supposed quality of the man to whom the queen continued to pour forth her less considerate praises.

Edward desired Gloucester to bring the minst............