"Then I am indeed your brother!" cried the happy youth; "admit me but
to your heart, and no fraternal, no filial tie, shall be more strongly
linked than mine."

"What tender affections I can spare from those resplendent regions,"
answered Wallace, pointing to the skies, "are thine. The fervors of my
once ardent soul are Scotland's, or I die. But thou art too young, my
brother," added he, interrupting himself, "to understand all his
feelings, all the seeming contradictions, of my contending heart."

"Not so," answered Edwin, with a modest blush; "what was Lady Marion's,
you now devote to Scotland. The blaze of those affections which were
hers, would consume your being, did you not pour it forth on your
country. Were you not a patriot, grief would prey upon your life."

"You have read me, Edwin," replied Wallace; "and that you may never
love to idolatry, learn this also. Though Scotland lay in ruins, I was
happy; I felt no captivity while in Marion's arms; even oppression was
forgotten when she made the sufferer's tears cease to flow. She
absorbed my thoughts, my wishes, my life!-and she was wrested from me,
that I might feel myself a slave, that the iron might enter into my
soul, with which I was to pull down tyranny, and free my country. Mark
the sacrifice, young man," cried Wallace, starting on his feet; "it now
even smokes, and the flames are here inextinguishable." He struck his
hand upon his breast. "Never love as I have loved, and you will be a
patriot, without needing to taste my bitter cup!"

Edwin trembled; his tears were checked. "I can love no one better than
I do you, my general! and is there any crime in that?"