"It is now too late! We have not made the first overture, and there sounds the death-bell of this garrison! I saved your life, earl!" cried he, imploringly, to Lord Mar; "when the enraged Cressingham commanded me to pull the cord which would have launched you into eternity.

I disobeyed him! For my sake, then, preserve this garrison, and accompany me to the ramparts." The chains were immediately knocked off the limbs of Lord Mar, and the lieutenant presenting him with a sword, they appeared together on the battlements.

As the declining moon shone on their backs, Murray did not discern that it was his uncle who mounted the walls; but calling to him in a voice which declared there was no appeal, pointed to the humbled colors of Edward, and demanded the instant surrender of the citadel.
"Let it be, then with the pledge of Sir William Wallace's mercy ?" cried the venerable earl.
"With every pledge, Lord Mar," returned Murray, now joyfully recognizing his uncle, "which you think safe to give." "Then the keys of the citadel are yours," cried the lieutenant; "I only ask the lives of my garrison." This was granted, and immediately preparations were made for the admission of the Scots.

As the enraptured Edwin heard the heavy chains of the portcullis drawn up, and the massy bolts of the huge doors grating in their guards, he thought of his mother's liberty, of his father's joy, in pressing her again in his arms; and hastening to the tower where Lord Ruthven held watch over the now sleeping De Valance, he told him all that had happened.

"Go, my father," added he; "enter with Murray, and be the first to open the prison doors of my mother." Lord Ruthven embraced his son.