"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 (among 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 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.