HAVING rewarded his trusty followers with their promised war-bonnets from the hand of Helen, and despatched them onward to the foot of Cartlane craigs, to await his arrival with the larger levy; Murray proceeded to the apartment of Lord Mar, to inform him how far he had executed his commands, and to learn his future orders. He found the veteran Earl surrounded by arms and armed men; fifty brave Scots, who were to lead the three hundred then on Bothwell Moor, were receiving their spears and swords, and other weapons, from the hands of their lord.

"Bear these stoutly, my gallant countrymen," cried he, "and remember, that although the dragon [The standard of Edward I. was a golden dragon :—a very ancient British standard, but derived from pagan times.—1809.) of England has burnt up your harvests, and laid our homes in ashes; there is yet a lion in Scotland to wither his power, and glut you with his spoil!"

The interest of the scene, and the clatter of the arms he was dispensing, prevented anybody present hearing any sound of what was taking place beyond the room. But the Earl had hardly uttered those words, when the double-doors of the apartment were abruptly opened, and all eyes were blasted by the sudden sight of Lord Soulis, and a man in splendid English armour, with a train of Southron soldiers, following this recreant Scot.

[William Lord Soulis was a powerful chief in the south of Scotland. He founded pretensions to the Scottish crown, on his descent from an illegitimate daughter of Alexander II. Soulis was a traitor to his country, and so notoriously wicked, that tradition endows him with the power of infernal necromancy. His castle of Hermitage, in Teviotdale, is still shown the resort of malignant demons.—(1809.)]

The Earl started from his couch. "Lord Soulis! what is the occasion of this unapprised visit?"

Meanwhile, unconscious of these events, Helen had lain down on her bed, to seek a few minutes’ repose; and having watched the whole of the preceding night, was sunk into a profound sleep.

Helen gazed at him in terror: "Where is my father? Leave him, I cannot."

"Fly, in pity to your father! Oh, do not hesitate! What will be his anguish, should you fall into the hands of the furious man whose love you have rejected; when it will no longer be in the power of a parent to preserve your person from the outrages of his eager and avengeful passion! If you had seen Soulis’s threatening eyes—" He was interrupted by a clamour in the opposite gallery, and the shrieks of women. Helen grasped his arm: "Alas, my poor damsels! I will go with you, whither you will, to be far from him."

"Rather fear the libertine Soulis," returned Murray "he can only make them prisoners; and even that injury shall be of short duration I will soon join the brave Wallace, and then, my sweet cousin, liberty, and a happy meeting !"

Alas, his venerable harper;" cried she, suddenly remembering Halbert; "should he be discovered to have belonged to Wallace, he, too, will be massacred by these merciless men."

Murray stopped: "Have you courage to remain in this darkness alone? If so, I will seek him, and he shall accompany us."

Helen had courage for anything but the dangers Murray might encounter, by returning into the castle; but the generous youth had entered too fully into her apprehensions concerning the old man to be withheld. " Should I be delayed in coming back," said he, recollecting the possibility of himself being attacked and slain, "go forward to the end of this passage; it will lead you to a flight of stairs; ascend them; and by drawing the bolt of a door, you will find yourself at once in the prior’s cell."

"Talk not of delay," replied Helen; "return quickly, and I will await you at the entrance of the passage." So saying, she swiftly retraced with him her steps to the bottom of the stone stairs by which they had descended. He raised the flag, sprung out of the aperture, and closing it down, left her in solitude and darkness.

Murray passed through the first cellar, and was proceeding to the second (amongst the catacombs of which lay the concealed entrance to the private stairs,) when he saw the great gates of the cellar open, and a large party of English soldiers enter. They were conducted by the butler of the castle, who seemed to perform his office very unwillingly, while they crowded in, thirsty and riotous.

Aware how unequal his single arm would be, to contend with such numbers, Murray, at the first glance of these plunderers, retreated behind a heap of casks in a remote corner. While the trembling butler was loading a dozen of the men with flasks for the refreshment of their masters above, the rest were helping themselves from the adjacent catacombs. Some left the cellars with their booty, and others remained to drink it on the spot. Glad to escape the insults of the soldiers, who lay wallowing in the wine, Bothwell’s old servant quitted the cellar, with the last company which bore flagons to their comrades above.

Murray listened anxiously, in hopes of hearing from his garrulous neighbours some intimation of the fate of his uncle and aunt. He hearkened in vain, for nothing was uttered by these intoxicated banditti, but loud boastings of the number each had slain in the Earl’s apartment; execrations against the Scots for their obstinate resistance; and a thousand sanguinary wishes, that the nation had but one neck, to strike off at a blow.

How often, during this conversation, was Murray tempted to rush out amongst them, and seize a desperate revenge! But the thought of his poor cousin, now awaiting his return, and perhaps already suffering dreadful alarms from such extraordinary uproar, restrained him ; and unable to move from his hiding-place, without precipitating himself into instant death, he remained nearly an hour in the most painful anxiety, watching the dropping to sleep of this horrid crew, one by one.

When all seemed hushed—not a voice, even in a whisper, startling his ear—he ventured forth with a stealing step, towards the slumbering group. Like his brave ancestor Gaul, the son of Morni, "he disdained to stab a sleeping foe!" He must pass them to reach the private stairs. He paused and listened. Silence still reigned; not even a hand moved, so deeply wire they sunk in the fumes of wine. He took courage, and flew with the lightness of air to the secret door. As he laid his hand on it, it opened from without, and two persons appeared. By the few rays which gleamed from the expiring torches of the sleepers, he could see that the first wore English armour. Murray believed himself lost; but determined to sell his life dearly, he made a spring, and caught the man by the throat; when some one seizing his arm, exclaimed, "Stop, my Lord Murray! it is the faithful Grimsby." Murray let go his hold, glad to find that both his English friend, and the venerable object of his solicitude, were thus providentially brought to meet him; but fearing that the violence of his action, and Halbert’s exclamation, might have alarmed the sleeping soldiers, (who, drunk as they were, were too numerous to be resisted,) he laid his finger on the lip of Grimsby, and motioned to the astonished pair to follow him.

As they advanced, they perceived one of the soldiers move as if disturbed. Murray held his sword over the sleeping wretch, ready to plunge it into his heart should he attempt to rise: but he became still again; and the fugitives having approached the flag, Murray drew it up, and eager to haven his double charge, he thrust them together down the stairs. At that moment, a shriek from Helen, (who had discovered, by the gleam of light which burst into the vault, a man descending in English armour,) echoed through the cellars. Two of the soldiers jumped upon their feet, and rushed upon Murray. He had let the flag drop behind him; but still remaining by it, in case of an opportunity to escape, he received the strokes of their weapons upon his target, and returned them with equal rapidity. One assailant lay gasping at his feet. But the clashing of arms, and the cries of the survivor, had already awakened the whole crew. With horrid menaces, they threw themselves towards the young Scot, and would certainly have cut him to pieces, had he not snatched the only remaining torch out of the hand of a staggering soldier, and extinguished it under his foot. Bewildered where to find their prey, with threats and imprecations, they groped in darkness, slashing the air with their swords, and not unfrequently wounding each other in the vain search.