Pardon me then, holy father, that I sometimes weep; but they are often tears of trust and consolation." "Daughter of heaven," replied the good prior, "you might teach devotion to age, and cause youth to be enamored of the graces of religion! Be ever thus, and you may look with indifference on the wreck of worlds." Helen having meekly replied to this burst from the heart of the holy man, begged to see her cousin before he set off on his expedition.

The prior withdrew, and within an hour after, Murray entered the apartment.
Their conversation was long, and their parting full of an interest that dissolved them both into tears.

"When I see you again, my brave cousin, tell me that my father is free, and his preserver safe.

Your own life, dear Andrew," added she, as he pressed his cheek to hers, "must always be precious to me." Murray hastily withdrew, and Helen was again alone.
The young chieftain and Ker covered their armor with shepherd's plaids; and having received a thousand blessings from the prior and Halbert, proceeded under shelter of the night, through the obscurest paths of the wood which divided Bothwell from Drumshargard.
Sir John Murray was gone to rest when his nephew arrived, but Lord Andrew's voice being well known by the porter, he was admitted into the house; and leaving his companion in the dining-hall, went to the apartment of his uncle.

The old knight was soon aroused, and welcomed his nephew with open arms; for he had feared, from the accounts brought by the fugitive tenants of Bothwell, that he also had been carried away prisoner.
Murray now unfolded his errand--first to obtain a band of Sir John's trustiest people to assist in rescuing the preserver of the earl's life from immediate destruction; and secondly, if a commission for Lord Mar's release did not arrive from King Edward, to aid him to free his uncle and the countess from Dumbarton Castle.
Sir John listened with growing anxiety to his nephew's details.