It will be a patriot's standard; and let his own irresistible words be the motto--God armeth me." Helen advanced with awestruck trepidation.

Having been told by the earl of the generous valor of Wallace, and of the cruel death of his lady, she had conceived a gratitude and a pity deeper than language could express, for the man who had lost so much by succoring one so dear to hear.

She took the lock, waving in yellow light upon her hands, and, trembling with emotion, was leaving the room, when she heard her cousin throw himself on his knees.
"I beseech you, my honored uncle," cried he, "if you have love for me, or value for my future fame, allow me to be the bearer of your banner to Sir William Wallace." Helen stopped at the threshold to hear the reply.
"You could not, my dear nephew," returned the earl, "have asked me any favor I could grant with so much joy.

To-morrow I will collect the peasantry of Bothwell, and with those, and my own followers, you shall join Wallace the same night." Ignorant of the horrors of war, and only alive to the glory of the present cause, Helen sympathized in the ardor of her cousin, and with a thrill of sad delight hurried to her apartment, to commence her task.
Far different were the sentiments of the countess, her stepmother.

As soon as Lord Mar had let this declaration escape his lips, alarmed at the effect so much agitation might have on his enfeebled constitution, and fearful of the perilous cause he ventured thus openly to espouse, she desired his nephew to take the now comforted Halbert (who was pouring forth his gratitude to the earl, for the promptitude of his orders), and see that he was attended with hospitality.
When the room was left to the earl and herself, she ventured to remonstrate with him upon the facility with which he had become a party in so treasonable a matter.