world his duty better than allow himself to be tied to any nursery
girdle in Christendom."

The brave old earl was offended with this roughness, but ere he could
so express himself, the object darted her own severe retort on
Kirkpatrick, and then, turning to her husband, with an hysterical sob,
exclaimed, "It is well seen what will be my fate when Wallace is gone!
Would he have stood by and beheld me thus insulted?"

Distressed with shame at her conduct, and anxious to remove her fears,
Lord Mar softly whispered her, and threw his arm about her waist. She
thrust him from her. "You care not what may become of me, and my heart
disdains your blandishments."

Lennox rose in silence, and walked to the other end of the chamber.
Sir Roger Kirkpatrick followed him, muttering, pretty audibly, his
thanks to St. Andrew that he had never been yoked with a wife.
Scrymgeour and Murray tried to allay the storm in her bosom by
circumstantially detailing how the fortress must be equally safe under
the care of Lennox as of Wallace. But they discoursed in vain; she was
obstinate, and at last left the room in a passion of tears.

On the return of Wallace, Lord Lennox advanced to meet him. "What
shall we do?" said he. "Without you have the witchcraft of Hercules,
and can be in two places at once, I fear we must either leave the rest
of Scotland to fight for itself, or never restore peace to this castle!"

Wallace smiled, but before he could answer, Lady Mar, having heard his
voice ascending the stairs, suddenly entered the room. She held her
infant in her arms. Her air was composed, but her eyes yet shone in