The next instant a musket was discharged; then came volley after volley, then the clash of swords, and cries, and shouts, and words of command, with every now and then a deadly groan between, while through the chink of the door that was left open crept the pale blue smoke, rolling round with a sulphurous smell, and the blast of the trumpet echoed from without, as if calling up fresh spirits to the fray. Lady Margaret Langley held her niece's hand firmly in hers, while Annie Walton bent her fair brow upon her old relation's shoulder, and struggled with the tears that would fain have burst forth. The strife in the neighbouring room seemed to last an age, though in truth its duration was but a few minutes, and then came a pause, not of absolute silence, for the sounds were still various and many, but there was a comparative stillness, and a voice was heard speaking, though the words were indistinct. The moment after, some one near exclaimed-- "Lay down your arms, then, traitors! We will grant no conditions to rebels with arms in their bands. Hie to Major Randal, Barecolt. Tell him to guard well every door, that no one escape. Now, sir, do you surrender?" Annie Walton recognised her brother's voice, and murmured, "He at least is safe." "We will surrender upon quarter, sir," answered the voice of Captain Hargood. "You shall surrender at discretion, or die where you stand," answered Lord Walton. "Make your choice quickly, or we fire!" Almost as he spoke, there came a dull clang, as of arms grounded suddenly on the wooden floor; and, greatly to the relief of poor Annie Walton's heart, the voice of Lord Beverley was heard exclaiming-- "Treat them gently, treat them gently! They are prisoners, and must abide his majesty's pleasure." "Thank God!" said Miss Walton; "thank God!" "Hush!" said Lady Margaret. "Let us look out, Annie. There is a smell of burning wood."