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.
"But were it otherwise," cried she, "only tell me, that had I not been bound with chains, which my kinsmen forced upon me--had I not been made the property of a man who, however estimable, was of too paternal years for me to love; ah! tell me, if these tears should now flow in vain ?" Wallace seemed to hesitate what to answer.
Wrought up to agony, she threw herself on his breast, exclaiming, "Answer! but drive me not to despair.

I never loved man before--and now to be scorned! Oh, kill me, too, dear Wallace, but tell me not that you never could have loved me." Wallace was alarmed at her vehemence.