soul which gazed on it. The countess felt her heart throb violently.
At that moment Wallace addressed a few words to her but she knew not
what they were; her soul was in tumults, and a mist passed over her
sight, which, for a moment, seemed to wrap all her senses in a trance.

The unconscious object of these emotions bowed to her inarticulate
reply, supposing that the mingling voices of others had made him hear
hers indistinctly.

Lady Mar found her situation so strange, and her agitation so
inexplicable, that feeling it impossible to remain longer without
giving way to a burst of tears, she rose from her seat, and forcing a
smile with her courtesy to the company, left the room.

On gaining the upper apartment, she threw herself upon the nearest
couch, and striking her breast, exclaimed: "What is this within me?
How does my soul seem to pour itself out to this man! Oh! how does it
extend itself, as if it would absorb his, even at my eyes! Only twelve
hours-hardly twelve hours, have I seen this William Wallace, and yet my
very being is now lost in his!"

While thus speaking, she covered her face with her handkerchief, but no
tears now started to be wiped away. The fire in her veins dried the
source, and with burning blushes she rose from her seat. "Fatal, fatal
hour! Why didst thou come here, too infatuating Wallace, to rob me of
my peace? Oh! why did I ever look on that face?-or rather, blessed
saints!" cried she, clasping her hands in wild passion, "why did I ever
shackle this hand?-why did I ever render such a sacrifice necessary?
Wallace is now free; had I been free? But wretch, wretch, wretch; I
could tear out this betrayed heart! I could trample on that of the