Scotland -- History -- War of Independence, 1285-1371 -- Fiction
The stranger sighed deeply: "Sweet lady," returned he, "I have no
sister, no wife. But my kindred is nevertheless very numerous, and I
thank thee for thy prayer." The hero sighed profoundly again, and led
her silently down the windings of the declivity. Having proceeded with
caution, they descended into a little wooded dell, and soon approached
the half-standing remains of what had once been a shepherd's hut.
"This," said the knight, as they entered, "was the habitation of a good
old man, who fed his flock on these mountains; but a band of Southron
soldiers forced his only daughter from him, and, plundering his little
abode, drove him out upon the waste. He perished the same night, by
grief, and the inclemencies of the weather. His son, a brave youth,
was left for dead by his sister's ravishers; but I found him in this
dreary solitude, and he told me the too general story of his wounds and
his despair. Indeed, lady, when I heard your shrieks from the opposite
side of the chasm, I thought they might proceed from this poor boy's
sister, and I flew to restore them to each other."
Helen shuddered, as he related a tale so near resembling her own; and
trembling with weakness, and horror of what might have been her fate
had she not been rescued by this gallant stranger, she sunk exhausted
upon a turf seat. The chief still held her hand. It was very cold,
and he called to his men to seek fuel to make a fire. While his
messengers were exploring the crannies of the rocks for dried leaves
and sticks, Helen, totally overcome, leaned almost motionless against
the wall of the hut. Finding, by her shortened breath, that she was
fainting, the knight took her in his arms, and supporting her on his
breast, chafed her hands and her forehead. His efforts were in vain;
she seemed to have ceased to breathe; hardly a pulse moved her heart.
Alarmed at such signs of death, he spoke to one of his men who remained
in the hut.
The man answered his master's inquiry by putting a flash into his hand.
The knight poured some of its contents into her mouth. Her streaming
locks wetted his cheek. "Poor lady!" said he, "she will perish in
these forlorn regions, where neither warmth nor nourishment can be
found."
To his glad welcome, several of his men soon after entered with a
quantity of withered boughs, which they had found in the fissures of
the rock at some distance. With these a fire was speedily kindled; and
its blaze diffusing comfort through the chamber, he had the
satisfaction of hearing a sigh from the breast of his charge. Her head
still leaned on his bosom when she opened her eyes. The light shone
full on her face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account