"I am fully sensible of the honor you would bestow upon my daughter and myself by your alliance; but, as I have said before, her heart is too devoted to Scotland to marry any man whose birth does not make it his duty to prefer the liberty of her native land, even before his love for her. That hope to see our country freed from a yoke unjustly laid upon her--that hope which you, not considering our rights, or weighing the power that lies in a just cause, denominate an ignis fatuus, is the only passion I believe that lives in the gentle bosom of my Helen; and therefore, noble earl, not even your offers can equal the measure of her wishes." At this speech De Valence bit his lip with real disappointment; and starting from his chair now in unaffected disorder, "I am not to be deceived, Lord Mar," cried he; "I am not to be cajoled by the pretended patriotism of your daughter; I know the sex too well to be cheated with these excuses. The ignis fatuus that leads your daughter from my arms, is not the freedom of Scotland, but the handsome rebel who conquers in its name! He is now fortune's minion, but he will fall, Lord Mar, and then what will be the fate of his mad adherents?" "Earl de Valence," replied the veteran, "sixty winters have checked the tides of passion in my veins; but the indignation of my soul against any insult offered to my daughter's delicacy, or to the name of the lord regent of Scotland is not less powerful in my breast. You are my prisoner, and I pardon what I could so easily avenge. I will even answer you, and say that I do not know of any exclusive affection subsisting between my daughter and Sir William Wallace; but this I am assured of, that were it the case, she would be more ennobled in being the wife of so true a patriot and so virtuous a man, than were she advanced to the bosom of an emperor. And for myself, were he to-morrow hurled by a mysterious Providence from his present nobly-won elevation, I should glory in my son were he such, and would think him as great on a scaffold as on a throne." "It is well that is your opinion," replied De Valence, stopping in his wrathful strides, and turning on Mar with vengeful irony; "cherish these heroics, for you will assuredly see him so exalted. Then where will be his triumphs over Edward's arms and Pembroke's heart? Where your daughter's patriot husband; you glorious son? Start not, old man, for by all the powers of hell I swear that some eyes which now look proudly on the Southron host, shall close in blood! I announce a fact!" "If you do," replied Mar, shuddering at the demoniac fire that lightened from the countenance of De Valence, "it must be by the agency of devils; and their minister, vindictive earl, will meet the vengeance of the Eternal arm."