CHAPTER LXIX.
-- A darker departure is near, The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier.
CAMPBELL.
After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle Castle.

But he paced it long in every direction, before the hour when, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were opened and the drawbridge lowered.
He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted.
The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment in the central part of the Castle--a huge old tower, supposed to be of great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII's time, or somewhat later.

The grating of the large old-fashioned bars and bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by the clash of chains, as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself into his friend's arms.
'My dear Edward,' he said, in a firm, and even cheerful voice, 'this is truly kind.

I heard of your approaching happiness with the highest pleasure.

And how does Rose?
and how is our old whimsical friend the Baron?
Well, I trust, since I see you at freedom--And how will you settle precedence between the three ermines passant and the bear and bootjack ?' 'How, oh how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such a moment!' 'Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure--on the 16th of November last, for example, when we marched in, side by side, and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers.