On Mar's probable speedy death she so long thought that she regarded it as a certainty, and so pressed forward to the fulfillment of her love and ambition with as much eagerness as if he were already in his grave.
She recollected that Wallace had not this time thrown her from his bosom, when in the transports of her joy she cast herself upon it; he only gently whispered, "Beware, lady, there are those present who may think my services too richly paid." With these words he had relinquished her to her husband.

But in them she saw nothing inimical to her wishes; it was a caution, not a reproof, and had not his warmer address to Helen conjured up all the fiends of jealousy, she would have been perfectly satisfied with these grounds of hope-slippery though they were, like the sands of the sea.
Eager, therefore, to break away from Lord Mar's projects relating to his daughter, at the first decent opportunity she said: "We will consider more of this, Donald.

I now resign you to the duties of your office, and shall pay mine to her, whose interest is our own." Lord Mar pressed her hand to his lips, and they parted.
Prior to Wallace's visit to the citadel, which was to be at an early hour the same morning, a list of the noble prisoners was put into his hand.

Edwin pointed to the name of Lord Montgomery.
"That," said he, "is the name of the person you already esteem; but how will you regard him when I tell you who he was ?" Wallace turned on him an inquiring look.
"You have often spoken to me of Sir Gilbert Hambledon-" "And this be he!" interrupted Wallace.
Edwin recounted the manner of the earl discovering himself, and how he came to bear that title.

Wallace listened in silence and when his young friend ended, sighed heavily, "I will thank him," was all he said; and rising, he proceeded to the chamber of Montgomery.