"Any evil tidings from Perthshire?" demanded Wallace, who now hardly doubted that ill news had arrived of Bruce.
"None," was the knight's reply; "but I am come to fulfill my promise to you, to unite myself forever heart and soul to your destiny, or you behold me this night for the last time."
Surprised at this address, and the emotion which shook the frame of the unknown warrior, Wallace answered him with expressions of esteem, and added:
"If it depend on me to unite so brave a man to my friendship forever, only speak the word, declare your name, and I am ready to seal the compact."
"My name," declared the knight, "will indeed put these protestations to the proof. I have fought by your side, Sir William Wallace; I would have died at any moment to have spared that breast a wound, and yet I dread to raise my visor to show you who I am. A look will make me live or blast me."
"Your language confounds me, noble knight," replied Wallace. "I know of no man living, save the base violators of Lady Helen Mar's liberty, who need tremble before my eyes. It is not possible that either of these men is before me; and whoever you are, whatever you may have been, brave chief, your deeds have proved you worthy of a soldier's friendship, and I pledge you mine."
The knight was silent. He took Wallace's hand—he grasped it; the arms that held it did indeed tremble. Wallace again spoke.
"What is the meaning of this? I have a power to benefit, but none to injure."
"To benefit and to injure!" cried the knight, in a transport of emotion; "you have my life in your hands. Oh! grant it, as you value your own happiness and honor! Look on me and say whether I am to live or die."
As the warrior spoke, he cast himself impetuously on his knees, and threw open his visor. Wallace saw a fine but flushed face. It was much overshadowed by the helmet.