voice,
replied, 'God save King James!' These were the last words which Waverley
heard him speak.

The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished from beneath
the portal, under which it had stopped for an instant. The dead-march
was then heard, and its melancholy sounds were mingled with those of a
muffled peal, tolled from the neighbouring cathedral. The sound of the
military music died away as the procession moved on--the sullen clang of
the bells was soon heard to sound alone.

The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under the vaulted
archway through which they had been filing for several minutes; the
courtyard was now totally empty, but Waverley still stood there as if
stupefied, his eyes fixed upon the dark pass where he had so lately
seen the last glimpse of his friend. At length, a female servant of the
governor's, struck with compassion at the stupefied misery which his
countenance expressed, asked him if he would not walk into her master's
house and sit down? She was obliged to repeat her question twice ere he
comprehended her, but at length it recalled him to himself. Declining
the courtesy by a hasty gesture, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and,
leaving the Castle, walked as swiftly as he could through the empty
streets, till he regained his inn, then rushed into an apartment, and
bolted the door.

In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterable
suspense, the sound of the drums and fifes, performing a lively air, and
the confused murmur of the crowd which now filled the streets, so lately
deserted, apprized him that all was finished, and that the military and
populace were returning from the dreadful scene. I will not attempt to
describe his sensations.

In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him that he
did so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him that Fergus
Mac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered his friendship to the
last. He added, he had also seen Flora, whose state of mind seemed more
composed since all was over. With her and Sister Theresa, the priest
proposed next day to leave Carlisle, for the nearest seaport from which
they could embark for France. Waverley forced on this good man a ring
of some value, and a sum of money to be employed (as he thought might
gratify Flora) in the services of the Catholic Church, for the memory of
his friend. 'FUNGARQUE INANI MUNERE,' he repeated, as the ecclesiastic
retired. 'Yet why not