When her parents had been seized, Helen had escaped to the Priory of St. Fillans. But she was persuaded to leave the priory by a trick of the traitor Scottish Lord Soulis, whom she hated, and whose quest of her hand had the secret approval of Lady Mar. When the ruffian laid hold upon her, he carried her away with threats and violence; but as Soulis and his band were crossing the Leadhill moors, a small party of men fell suddenly upon them. Soulis was forced to relinquish his prey, and was carried away by his men covered with wounds; while Helen found herself in the presence of a gentle and courteous Scottish warrior, who conveyed her to a hermit's cell near at hand. Without revealing his name he passed on his way, declaring that he went to arouse a few brave spirits to arms. Brief as the interview had been, Helen knew when it was ended that she had given her heart to the unknown knight.
As her father and mother lay one dark night in Dumbarton Castle, a fearful uproar arose without their prison--the clashing of swords, the thud of falling bodies, the groans of wounded.
"There is an attack," cried the earl.
"Nay, who would venture to attack such a fortress as this?" answered Lady Mar.
"Hark! it is the slogan of Sir William Wallace. Oh, for a sword!" exclaimed the earl.
A voice was heard begging for mercy--the voice of De Valence, the governor.
"You shall die!" was the stern answer.
"Nay, Kirkpatrick, I give him life." The accents were Wallace's.
A battering-ram broke down the prison-door. There stood Wallace and his men, their weapons and armour covered with blood. De Valence, evading the clutch of Kirkpatrick, thrust his dagger into Wallace's side and fled.
"It is nothing," said Wallace, as he staunched the wound with his scarf.