The knight turned to Helen. "Farewell, sweet lady!" said he. She trembled at the words, and, hardly conscious of what she did, held out her hand to him. He took it, and drew it toward his lips, but checking himself, he only pressed it, while in a mournful voice he added, "in your prayer, sometimes remember the most desolate of men!" A mist seemed to pass over the eyes of Lady Helen. She felt as if on the point of losing something most precious to her. "My prayers for my own preserver, and for my father's," cried she, in an agitated voice, "shall ever be mingled. And, if ever it be safe to remember me--should Heaven indeed arm the patriot's hand--then my father may be proud to know and to thank the brave deliverer of his child." The knight paused, and looked with animation upon her. "Then your father is in arms, and against the tyrant! Tell me where, and you see before you a man who is ready to join him, and to lay down his life in the just cause!" At this vehement declaration, Lady Helen's full heart overflowed, and she burst into tears. He drew toward her, and in a moderated voice continued: "My men, though few, are brave. They are devoted to their country, and are willing for her sake to follow me to victory or to death. As I am a knight, I am sworn to defend the cause of right; and where shall I so justly find it, as on the side of bleeding, wasted Scotland? How shall I so well pursue my career as in the defense of her injured sons? Speak, gentle lady! trust me with your noble father's name, and he shall not have cause to blame the confidence you repose in a true though wandering Scot!" "My father," replied Helen, weeping afresh, "is not where your generous services can reach him. Two brave chiefs, one a kinsman of my own, and the other his friend, are now colleagued to free him. If they fail, my whole house falls in blood! and to add another victim to the destiny which in that case will overwhelm me--the thought is beyond my strength." Faint with agitation, and the horrible images which reawakened her direst fears, she stopped; and then added in a suppressed voice, "Farewell!" "Not till you hear me further," replied he. "I repeat I have now a scanty number of followers; but I leave these mountains to gather more. Tell me, then, where I may join these chiefs you speak of. Give me a pledge that I come from you; and whoever may be your father, as he is a true Scot, I will compass his release, or perish in the attempt." "Alas! generous stranger," cried she, "to what would you persuade me? You know not the peril that you seek!" "Nothing is perilous to me," replied he, with an heroic smile, "that is to serve my country. I have no interest, no joy but in her. Give me, then, the only happiness of which I am now capable, and send me to serve her, by freeing one of her defenders!"