respectful bow he was also moving away, she arrested his steps. She
held him fast, but her agitation prevented her speaking; she trembled
violently, and weeping, dropped her head upon his shoulder. He was
motionless. Her tears redoubled. He felt the embarrassment of his
situation; and at last extricating his tongue, which surprise and shame
for her had chained, in a gentle voice he inquired the cause of her
uneasiness. "If for the safety of your nephews-"

"No, no," cried she, interrupting him, "read my fate in that of the
lady of Glenshealeach!"

Again he was silent; astonished, fearful of too promptly understanding
so disgraceful a truth, he found no words in which to answer her, and
her emotions became so uncontrolled, that he expected she would swoon
in his arms.

"Cruel, cruel Wallace!" at last cried she, clinging to him, for he had
once or twice attempted to disengage himself, and reseat her on the
bench; "your heart is steeled, or it would understand mine. It would
at least pity the wretchedness it has created. But I am despised, and
I can yet find the watery grave from which you rescued me."

To dissemble longer would have been folly. Wallace, now resolutely
seating her, though with gentleness, addressed her: "Your husband,
Lady Mar, is my friend; had I even a heart to give a woman, not one
sigh should arise in it to his dishonor. But I am lost to all warmer
affections than that of friendship. I may regard man as my brother,
woman as my sister; but never more can I look on female form with love."

Lady Mar's tears now flowed in a more tempered current.