The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

"Wallace," cried the now soul-struck earl, "what have I done? Has a father's anxiety asked amiss? If so, pardon me! But if my daughter also must perish for Scotland, take her, O God, uncontaminated, and let us meet in heaven! Wallace, I dare not accept your vow."

"But I will fulfill it," cried he. "Let thy paternal heart rest in peace; and by Jesus' help, Lady Helen shall again be in her own country, as free from Southron taint as she is from all mortal sin! De Valence dare not approach her heavenly innocence with violence; and her Scottish heart will never consent to give him a lawful claim to her precious self. Edward's legions are far beyond the borders! but wherever this earl may be, yet I will reach him. For there is a guiding hand above, and the demands of the morning at Falkirk are now to be answered in the halls of Stirling."

Lord Ruthven, followed by Edwin and Murray, entered the room. And the two nephews were holding each a hand of their dying uncle in theirs, when Lady Ruthven (who, exhausted with fatigue and anxiety, had retired an hour before), reappeared at the door of the apartment. She had been informed of the arrival of the regent and her son, and now hastened to give them a sorrowful welcome.

"Ah, my lord," cried she, as Wallace pressed her matron cheek to his; "this is not as your triumphs are wont to be greeted! You are still a conqueror, and yet death, dreadful death, lies all around us! And our Helen, too—"

"Shall be restored to you, by the blessed aid of Heaven!" returned he, "What is yet left for me to do, must be done; and then-" He paused, and added, "The time is not far distant, then—" He paused, and added "The time is not far distant, Lady Ruthven, when we shall meet in the realms to which so many of our bravest and dearest have just hastened."

With swimming eyes Edwin drew toward his master. "My uncle would sleep," said he; "he is exhausted, and will recall us when he wakes from rest." The eyes of the veteran were at that moment closed with heavy slumber. Lady Ruthven remained with the countess to watch by him; and Wallace, gently withdrawing, was followed by Ruthven and the two young men out of the apartment.

Lord Lochawe, with the Bishop of Dunkeld, and other chiefs, lay in different chambers, pierced with many wounds; but none so grievous as those of Lord Mar. Wallace visited them all, and having gone through the numerous places in the neighborhood, then made quarters for his wounded men. At the gloom of evening he returned to Falkirk. He sent Edwin forward to inquire after the repose of his uncle; but on himself re-entering the monastery, he requested the abbot to conduct him to the apartment in which the remains of Sir John Graham were deposited. The father obeyed; leading him along a dark passage, he opened a door, and discovered the slain hero lying on a bier. Two monks sat at its head, with tapers in their hands. Wallace waved them to withdraw; they set down the lights and departed. He was then alone.

For some time he stood with clasped hands, looking intently on the body as it lay extended before him. "Graham! Graham!" cried he, at last, in a voice of unutterable grief; "dost thou not rise at thy general's voice? Oh! is this to be the tidings I am to send to the brave father who intrusted to me his son? Lost in the prime of youth, in the opening of thy renown, is it thus that all which is good is to be martyrized by the enemies of Scotland?" He sunk gradually on his knees beside him. "And shall I not look once more on that face," said he, "which ever turned toward mine with looks of faith and love?" The shroud was drawn down by his hand. He started on his feet at the sight. The changing touch of death had altered every feature—had deepened the paleness of the bloodless corpse into an ashy hue. "Where is the countenance of my friend?" cried he. "Where the spirit which once moved in beauty and animating light over this face! Gone; and all I see before me is a mass of molded clay! Graham! Graham!" cried he, looking upward, "thou art not here. No more can I recognize my friend in this deserted habitation of thy soul. Thine own proper self, thine immortal spirit, is ascended up above; and there my fond remembrance shall ever seek thee!" Again he knelt, but it was in devotion—a devotion which drew the sting from death, and opened to his view the victory of the Lord of Life over the King of Terrors.

Edward having learned from his father that Lord Mar still slept, and being told by the abbot where the regent was, followed him to the consecrated chamber. On entering, he perceived him kneeling by the body of his friend. The youth drew near. He loved the brave Graham, and he almost adored Wallace; the scene, therefore, smote upon his heart. He dropped down by the side of the regent, and, throwing his arms around his neck, in a convulsive voice exclaimed: "Our friend is gone; but I yet live, and only in your smiles, my friend and brother!"

Wallace strained him to his breast. He was silent for some minutes, and then said: "To every dispensation of God I am resigned, my Edwin. While I bow to this stroke, I acknowledge the blessing I still hold in you and Murray. But did we not feel these visitations from our Maker, they would not be decreed to us. To behold the dead is the penalty of man for sin; for it is more pain to witness and to occasion death, than for ourselves to die. It is also a lesson which God teaches his sons; and in the moment that he shows us death he convinces us of immortality. Look upon that face, Edwin!" continued he, turning his eyes on the breathless clay. His youthful auditor, awestruck, and his tears checked by the solemnity of this address, looked as he directed him. "Doth not that inanimate mold of earth testify that nothing less than an immortal spirit could have lighted up its marble substance with the life and god-like actions we have seen it perform?" Edwin shuddered; and Wallace, letting the shroud fall over the face, added: "Never more will I look at it, for it no longer wears the characters of my friend—they are pictured on my soul; and himself, my Edwin, still effulgent in beauty and glowing with imperishable life, looks down on us from heaven!" He rose as he spoke, and opening the door, the monks re-entered, and placing themselves at the head of the bier, chanted the vesper requiem. When it was ended, Wallace kissed the crucifix they laid on his friend's breast, and left the cell.