On the night before the English prisoners were to start on their journey
southwards to be exchanged with Scottish nobles--an exchange after
which, by England's will, the war was to continue--Lady Mar, whose
husband was now governor of Stirling Castle, gave a banquet in honour of
the departing knights. The entertainment was conducted with that
chivalric courtesy which a noble conqueror always pays to the
vanquished.

But the spirit of Wallace was sad amid the gaiety; seeking quiet, he
wandered along a darkened passage that led to the chapel, unobserved
save by his watchful enemy De Valence--whose hatred had been intensified
by the knowledge that Helen, whose hand he had again demanded in vain,
loved the regent. He had guessed her secret, and she had guessed
his--the design he had of murdering the foe who had twice spared his
life.

As Wallace entered the chapel and advanced towards the altar, he saw a
woman kneeling in prayer. "Defend him, Heavenly Father!" she cried.
"Guard his unshielded breast from treachery!" It was Helen's voice.

Wallace stepped from the shadow; Helen was transfixed and silent.
"Continue to offer up these prayers for me," he said gently, "and I
shall yet think, holy maid, that I have a Marion to pray for me on
earth, as well as in heaven."

"They are for your life," she said in agitation, "for it is menaced."

"I will inquire by whom," answered he, "when I have first paid my duty
at this altar. Pray with me, Lady Helen, for the liberty of Scotland."