threw himself along the summit of the wall as if to sleep. He looked
down and saw nothing but the blackness of space, for here the broad
expanse of shadow rendered rocks and building of the same hue and
level. But hope buoyed him in her arms, and turning his eyes toward
the sentinel, he observed him to have arrived within a few paces of the
square tower. This was Edwin's moment: grasping the projecting stone
of the embattlement, and commending himself to Heaven, he threw himself
from its summit, and fell a fearful depth to the cliffs beneath.

Meanwhile Wallace, having seen his brave followers depart to their
respose, reclined himself along a pile of moss grown stones, which in
the days of the renowned Fingal, had covered the body of some valiant
Morven chieftain. He fixed his wakeful eyes on the castle, now
illumined in every part by the fullness of the moon's luster, and
considered which point would be most assailable by the scaling-ladders
he had prepared. Every side seemed a precipice; the Leven, surrounding
it on the north and the west; the Clyde, broad as a sea, on the south.
The only place that seemed at all accessible was the side next the dike
behind which he lay. Here the ascent to the castellated part of the
rock, because most perpendicular, was the least guarded with outworks,
and by this he determined to make the attempt as soon as the setting
moon should involve the garrison in darkness.

While he yet mused on what might be the momentous consequences of the
succeeding midnight hours, he thought he heard a swift though cautious
footstep. He raised himself, and laying his hands on his sword, saw a
figure advancing toward him.

"Who goes there?" demanded Wallace.