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Porter, Jane, 1776-1850

"The Scottish Chiefs"

"I
would go to the top of that wall, and sleep sweetly in the moonbeams,"
said he, "if any goodnatured fellow would meanwhile wait for my pretty
Scot!"
The half-inebriated Southron liked no better sport, and regardless of
duty, he promised to draw nearer the tower, and bring from the fair
messenger the expected token.
Having thus far gained his point, with an apparently staggering, but
really agile step, Edwin ascended the wall. A leap from this dizzy
height was his only way to rejoin Wallace. To retread his steps
through the fortress in safety would hardly be possible, and, besides,
such a mode of retreat would leave him uninformed on the second object
of his enterprise-to know the most vulnerable side of the fortress. He
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.


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