left all to the power of her natural charms, and appeared simply clad
in her favorite green.** Moraig, the pretty grandchild of the steward,
walked beside her, like the fairy queen of the scene, so gayly was she
decorated in all the flowers of spring. "Here is the lady of my elfin
revels, holding her little king in her arms!" As the countess spoke,
Moraig held up the infant to Lady Mar, dressed like herself, in a
tissue gathered from the field. The sweet babe laughed and crowed, and
made a spring to leap into Wallace's arms. The chief took him, and
with an affectionate smile, pressed his little cheek to his.

Though he had felt the repugnance of a delicate mind, and the
shuddering of a man who held his person consecrated to the memory of
the only woman he had ever loved; though he had felt these sentiments
mingle into an abhorrence of the countess, when she allowed her head to
drop on his breast in the citadel; charging her to himself with
anything designedly immodest), he had certainly avoided her; yet since
the wreck, the danger she had escaped, the general joy of all meeting
again, had wiped away even the remembrance of his former cause of
dislike; and he now sat by her as by a sister, fondling her child,
although at every sweet caress it reminded him of what might have been
his-of hopes lost to him forever.

The repast over, the piper of the adjacent cottages appeared; and,
placing himself on a projecting rock, at the carol of his merry
instrument the young peasants of both sexes jocundly came forward and
began to dance. At this sight Edwin seized the little hand of Moraig,
while Lord Andrew called a pretty lass from amongst the rustics, and
joined the group. The happy earl, with many a hearty laugh, enjoyed
the jollity of his people; and while the steward stood at his lord's
back describing whose sons and daughters passed before him in the reel,