Chapter XIV.
The Pentland Hills.
Helen listened with astonishment and grief to this too probable storyof her step-mother's ill-judged tenderness or cruel treachery; andremembering the threats which had escaped that lady in their lastconversation, she saw no reason to doubt what so clearly explained thebefore inexplicable seizure of her father, the betraying of Wallace,and her own present calamity.
"You do not answer me," rejoined the woman; "but if you think I don'tsay true, Lord Soulis himself will assure you of the fact."
"Alas, no!" returned Helen, profoundly sighing, "I believe it too well.I see the depth of the misery into which I am plunged. And yet,"cried she, recollecting the imposition the men had put upon her:-"yet,I shall not be wholly so, if my father lives, and was not in theextremity they told me of!"
"If that thought gives you comfort, retain it," returned the woman;"the whole story of the earl's illness was an invention to bring you atso short notice from the protection of the prior."
"I thank thee, gracious Providence, for this comfort!" exclaimed Helen;"it inspires me with redoubled trust in thee."
Margery shook her head. "Ah, poor victim (thought she), how vain isthy devotion!" But she had not time to say so, for her husband and thedeserter from Cressingham re-entered the cave. Helen, afraid that itwas Soulis, started up. The stranger proceeded to lift her in hisarms; she struggled, and in the evidence of her action, struck hisbeaver; it opened, and discovered a pale and stern countenance, with alarge scar across his jaw; this mark of contest, and the gloomy scowlof his eyes, made Helen rush toward the woman for protection. The manhastily closed his helmet, and, speaking through the clasped steel, forthe first time she heard his voice; it sounded, hollow and decisive; hebade her prepare to accompany Lord Soulis in a journey to the south.
Helen looked at her shackled arms, and despairing of effecting herescape by any effort of her own, she thought that gaining time might besome advantage; and allowing the man to take her hand, while Macgregorsupported her on the other side, they led her out of the cave. Sheobserved the latter smiled significantly at his wife. "Oh!" cried she,"to what am I betrayed? Unhand me! Leave me!" Almost fainting withdread, she leaned against the arm of the stranger.
Thunder now peaked over her head, and lightning shot across themountains. She looked up: "Merciful Heaven!" cried she, in a voice ofdeep horror; "send down thy bolt on me!" At that moment Soulis,mounted on his steed, approached, and ordered her to be put into thelitter. Incapable of contending with the numbers which surrounded her,she allowed them to execute their master's commands. Macgregor's wifewas set on a pillion behind him; and Soulis giving the word, they allmarched on at a rapid pace. In a few hours, having cleared the shadyvalleys of the Clyde, they entered the long and barren tracts of theLeadhill Moors.
A dismal hue overspread the country; the thunder yet roared in distantpeals, and the lightning came down in such vast sheets that thecarriers were often obliged to set down their burden, and cover theireyes to regain their sight. A shrill wind pierced the slight coveringof the litter, and blowing it aside, discovered the mist; or thegleaming of some wandering water, as it glided away over the cheerlesswaste.
"All is desolation, like myself!" thought Helen; but neither the coldwind, nor the rain, now drifting into her vehicle, occasioned her anysensation. It is only when the mind is at ease, that the body isdelicate; all within her was too expectant of mental horrors to noticethe casual inconveniences of season or situation. The cavalcade withdifficulty mounted the steps of a mountainous hill, where the stormraged so turbulently that the men who carried the litter stopped, andtold their lord it would be impossible to proceed in the approachingdarkness; they conjured him to look at the perpendicular rocks,rendered indistinct by the gathering mist; to observe the overwhelminggusts of the tempest; and then judge whether they dare venture with thelitter on so dangerous a pathway, made slippery by descending rain!
To halt in such a spot seemed to Soulis as unsafe as to proceed. "Weshall not be better off," answered he, "should we attempt to return:precipices lie on either side: and to stand still would be equallyperilous: the torrents from the heights increase so rapidly, there isevery chance of our being swept away, should we remain exposed to thestream."
Helen looked at these sublime cascades with a calm welcome, as theypoured from the hills, and flung their spray upon the roof of hervehicle. She hailed her release in the death they menaced; and farfrom being intimidated at the prospect, cast a resigned, and evenwistful glance, into the swelling lake beneath, under whose waves sheexpected soon to sleep.
On the remonstrance of their master, the men resumed their pace; andafter a hard contention with the storm, they gained the summit of thewest side of the mountain, and were descending its eastern brow, whenthe shades of night closed in upon them. Looking down into the blackchaos, on the brink of which they must pass along, they once moreprotested they could not advance a foot, until the dawn should givethem some security.
At this declaration, which Soulis saw could not now be disputed, heordered the troop to halt under the shelter of a projecting rock. Itshuge arch overhung the ledge that formed the road, while the deep gulfat his feet, by the roaring of its waters, proclaimed itself thereceptacle of those cataracts which rush tremendous from theever-streaming Pentland hills.
Soulis dismounted. The men set down the litter, and removed to adistance as he approached. He opened one of the curtains, and throwinghimself beside the exhausted, but watchful Helen, clasped his armsroughly about her, and exclaimed, "Sweet minion, I must pillow on yourbosom till the morn awakes!" His brutal lips were again riveted to hercheek. Ten thousand strengths seemed then to heave him from her heart;and struggling with a power that amazed even herself, she threw himfrom her; and holding him off with her shackled arms, her shrieks againpierced the heavens.
"Scream thy soul away, poor foul!" exclaimed Soulis, seizing herfiercely in his arms; "for thou art now so surely mine, that Heavenitself cannot deprive me!"
At that moment her couch was shaken by a sudden shock, and in the nextshe was covered with the blood of Soulis. A stroke from an unseen armhad reached him, and starting on his feet, a fearful battle of swordstook place over the prostrate Helen.
One of the men, out of the numbers who hastened to the assistance oftheir master, fell dead on her body; while the chief himself, sorelywounded, and breathing revenge and blasphemy, was forced off by thesurvivors. "Where do you carry me, villians?" cried he. "Separate menot from the vengeance I will yet hurl on that demon who has robbed meof my victim, or ye shall die a death more horrible than hell caninflict!" He raved; but more unheeded than the tempest. Terrifiedthat the spirits of darkness were indeed their pursuers, in spite ofhis reiterated threats, the men carried him to a distant hollow in therock, and laid him down, now insensible from loss of blood. One or twoof the most desperate returned to see what was become of Lady Helen;well aware that if they could regain her, their master would besatisfied; but, on the reverse, should she be lost, the whole troopknew their fate would be some merciless punishment.
Macgregor, and the deserter of Cressingham, were the first who reachedthe spot where the lady had been left; with horror they found thelitter, but not herself. She was gone. But whether carried off by themysterious arm which had felled their lord, or she had thrown herselfinto the foaming gulf beneath, they could not determine. They decided,however, the latter should be their report to Soulis; knowing that hewould rather believe the object of his passions had perished, than thatshe had escaped his toils.
Almost stupefied with consternation, they returned to repeat this taleto their furious lord; who, on having his wounds staunched, hadrecovered from his swoon. On hearing that the beautiful creature hehad so lately believed his own beyond the power of fate; that hisproperty, as he called her, the devoted slave of his will, the mistressof his destiny, was lost to him forever! swallowed up in the whelmingwave! he became frantic. There was
desperation in every word. Heraved; tore up the earth like a wild beast; and, foaming at the mouth,dashed the wife of Macgregor from him, as she approached with a freshbalsam for his wounds. "Off, scum of a damned sex!" cried he. "Whereis she, whom I intrusted to thy care?"
"My lord," answered the affrighted woman, "you know best. Youterrified the poor young creature. You forced yourself into a litter,and can you wonder-"
"That I should force you to perdition! execrable witch," cried he,"that knew no better how to prepare a slave to receive her lord!" Ashe spoke, he struck her again; but it was with his gauntlet hand, andthe eyes of the unfortunate woman opened no more. The blow fell on hertemple, and a motionless corpse lay before him.
"My wife!" cried the poor Macgregor, putting his trembling arms abouther neck: "Oh, my lord, how have I deserved this? You have slain her!"
"Suppose I have!" returned the chief with a cold scorn; "she was oldand ugly; and could you recover Helen, you should cull Hermitage, for asubstitute for this prating bedlam."
Macgregor made no reply, but feeling in his heart that he "who sows thewind, must reap the whirlwind;" that such were the rewards fromvillainy, to its vile instruments; he could not but say to himself, "Ihave deserved it of my God, but not of thee!" and sobbing over theremains of his equally criminal wife, by the assistance of his comradeshe removed her from the now hated presence of his lord.