At that moment all former differences of opinion were forgotten; the prudent counsel neglected, the headstrong perseverance in contrary measures, the impatient rejection of advice, the contempt of timely warnings, all faded from the mind. As the different bands receded from each other's view, they saw but the trusted companion in arms, the fellow-sufferer, endeared by similar misfortunes. The Earl of Nithsdale and the other noblemen proceeded towards Westminster Bridge, where, according to custom, they were placed in a government barge, and were rowed down the river to the Tower. The boat shot London Bridge; it was admitted through the Traitor's Gate; and, as it darted from the open day-light under the three low and gloomy arches, each prisoner cast a lingering look behind him, and as he withdrew his eyes, met those of his companions. There was no need of words to express the feelings of that moment; each read his neighbour's but too plainly in his own; each was aware the other felt he had taken his last look at the free bright world without the prison walls. And, alas! to more than one was it indeed but too truly his last glimpse of freedom; more than one was doomed never to pass those barriers, but to take his trial at Westminster Hall, and then to mount the scaffold upon Tower Hill. Not a word was spoken. The plash of the waves against the stone stairs, as the sudden entrance of the barge into the narrow landing-place caused the muddy sullen water to overflow the bottom steps and as quickly to recede, the hollow echo of the oars as they were shifted, were the only sounds heard. The barred gates were unlocked, and the prisoners, one by one, mounted the dank steps, and emerged into day-light, opposite the Bloody Tower. They heard the portals closed and barred behind them; they heard the splash of the portcullis as it was let down into the water, and each was then delivered over to the warder in whose apartments lodgings were assigned to him. As long as he remained exposed to the observations of others, the most acute physiognomist could not have perceived any alteration in the countenance of the Earl of Nithsdale. He had, as it were, set his features to an expression of calm contempt and stoical endurance, which he would allow no circumstances to alter. With a firm step, a lofty unembarrassed air, he followed his guide into the small and narrow apartment which was destined to his use. He showed no emotion when the cords were removed from his wrists, and he replied with punctilious politeness to the civilities of the warder. At length the door was closed upon him, he was left in solitude; no eye was upon him, and he was able to relax for a moment from the imperturbable composure which he had forced himself to maintain. He hid his face in his hands, and allowed the thought of his beloved wife, the memory of his innocent children, whom he perhaps was never, never more to behold, to rush over his soul!