The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

"Proceed then thither," continued she. "If Heaven have yet spared the lives of Wallace and my cousin, Andrew Murray, you will meet them before its walls. Meanwhile I shall seek the protection of my father's sister, and in her castle near the Forth abide in safety. But, noble stranger, one bond I must lay upon you; should you come up with my cousin, do not discover that you have met with me. He is precipitate in resentment; and his hatred is so hot against Soulis, my betrayer, that should he know the outrage I have sustained he would, I fear, run himself and the general cause into danger by seeking an immediate revenge."

The stranger readily passed his word to Helen that he would never mention her name to any of her family until she herself should give him leave. "But when your father is restored to his rights," continued he, "in his presence I hope to claim my acquaintance with his admirable daughter."

Helen blushed at this compliment—it was not more than any man in his situation might have said, but it confused her; and hardly knowing what were her thoughts, she answered-"His personal freedom may be effected, and God grant such a regard to your prowess! But his other rights, what can recover them? His estates sequestrated, his vassals in bonds, all power of the Earl of Mar will be annihilated; and from some obscure refuge like this, must he utter his thanks to his daughter's preserver."

"Not so, lady," replied he; "the sword is now raised in Scotland, that cannot be laid down till it be broken or has conquered. All have suffered by Edward; the powerful banished into other countries, that their wealth might reward foreign mercenaries; the poor driven into the waste, that the meanest Southron might share the spoil! Where all have suffered, all must be ready to avenge; and when a whole people take up arms to regain their rights, what force can prevent restitution? God is with them!"

"So I felt," returned Helen, "while I have not yet seen the horrors of the contest. While my father commanded in Bothwell Castle, and was sending out auxiliaries to the patriot chief, I too felt nothing but the inspiration which led them on, and saw nothing but the victory which must crown so just a cause. But now, when all whom my father commanded are slain or carried away by the enemy, when he is himself a prisoner, and awaiting the sentence of the tyrant he opposed, when the gallant Wallace, instead of being able to hasten to his rescue, is besieged by a numberless host, hope almost dies within me, and I fear that whoever may be fated to free Scotland, my beloved father, and those belonging to him are first to be made a sacrifice."

She turned pale as she spoke, and the stranger resumed. "No, lady, if there be that virtue in Scotland which can alone deserve freedom, it will be achieved. I am an inconsiderable man, but relying on the God of Justice, I promise you your father's liberty; and let his freedom be a pledge to you for that of your country. I now go to rouse a few brave spirits to arms. Remember the battle is not to the strong, nor victory with a multitude of hosts! The banner** of St. Andrew was once held from the heavens, over a little band of Scots, while they discomfited a thousand enemies—the same arm leads me on; and, if need be, I despair not to see it again, like the flaming pillar before the Israelites, consuming the enemies of liberty, even in the fullness of their might."

**At a time when Achaius King of Scotts, and Hungus King of Picts, were fiercely driven by Athelstan King of Northumberland into East Lothian, full of terrors of what the next morning might bring forth, Hungus fell into a sleep, and beheld a vision, which, tradition tells, was verified the ensuing day by the appearance of the cross of St. Andrew held out to him from the heavens, and waving him to victory. Under this banner he conquered the Northumberland forces, and slaying their leader, the scene of the battle has henceforth been called Atheistanford.-(1809.)

While he yet spoke, the hermit re-entered from the inner cell, supporting a youth on his arm. At sight of the knight, who held out his hand to him, he dropped on his knees and burst into tears. "Do you then leave me?" cried he; "am I not to serve my preserver?"

Helen rose in strange surprise; there was something in the feelings of the boy that was infectious; and while her own heart beat violently, she looked first on his emaciated figure, and then at the noble contour of the knight, "where every god had seemed to set his seal." His beaming eyes appeared the very fountains of consolation; his cheek was bright with generous emotions; and turning from the supplant boy to Helen. "Rise," said he to the youth, "and behold in this lady the object of the service to which I appoint you. You will soon, I hope, be sufficiently recovered to attend upon her wishes as you would upon mine. Be her servant and her guard; and when we meet again, as she will then be under the protection of her father, if you do not prefer so gentle a service before the rougher one of war, I will resume you to myself."

The youth, who had obeyed the knight and risen, bowed respectfully; and Helen, uttering some incoherent words of thanks, to hide her agitation turned away. The hermit exclaimed, "Again, my son, I beseech Heaven to bless thee!"