-t r 
 
 itf
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 ABBOT. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " WAVERLEY. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. III. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PHIN'TED FOR LONGMAN, HUIIST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 
 LONDON ; 
 
 AND FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, 
 
 A\n JOHN BALLANTYNE, EDINBURGH. 
 
 1820.
 
 r 
 
 3^ 
 
 / 
 
 
 A\ 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 ^3v 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 \' 
 
 
 THE ABBOT; 
 
 BEING 
 
 THE SEQUEL 
 
 OF 
 
 THE MONASTERY. 
 
 VOL. III.
 
 THE ABBOT; 
 
 BEING 
 
 TPIE SEQUEL 
 
 OF 
 
 THE MONASTERY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 See on yon verdant lawn, the gathering crowd 
 Thickens amain ; the huxom nymphs advance, 
 Usher'd by jolly clowns ; distinctions cease, 
 Lost in the common joy, and the bold slave 
 Leans on his wealthy master unrcproved. 
 
 Itural Games. — Someiiville. 
 
 JLhe re-appearance of the dignified Cham- 
 berlain on the street of the village, was 
 eagerly hailed by the reveller?, as a pledge 
 that the play, or dramatic representation, 
 which had been postponed owing to his 
 absence, was now full surely to commence. 
 Any thing like an approach to this most in-
 
 4 THE ABBOT. 
 
 teresting of all amusements, was of recent 
 origin in Scotland, and engaged public at- 
 tention in proportion. All other sports 
 were discontinued. The dance around the 
 May-pole was arrested — the ring broken up 
 and dispersed, while the dancers, .each lead- 
 ing his partner by the hand, tripped off to the 
 sylvan theatre. A truce was in like manner 
 achieved betwixt a huge brown bear and 
 certain mastiffs, who were tugging and pull- 
 ing at his shaggy coat, under the mediation 
 of the bear-ward and half a dozen butchers 
 and yeomen, who, by dint of stavwg cmd 
 tailings as it was technically termed, sepa- 
 rated the unfortunate animals, whose fury 
 had for an hour past been their chief amuse- 
 ment. The itinerant minstrel found him- 
 self deserted by the audience he had col- 
 lected, even in the most interesting passage 
 of the romance which he recited, and just 
 as he was sending about his boy, with 
 bonnet in hand, to collect their oblations. 
 He indignantly stopped short in the midst 
 of Rosewal and Lilian, and replacing his
 
 THE ABBOT. 5 
 
 three-Stringed fiddle or rebeck in its lea- 
 thern case, followed the crowd, with no 
 good will, to the exhibition which had su- 
 perseded his own. The juggler ceased his 
 exertions of emitting flame and smoke, and 
 was content to respire in the manner of or- 
 dinary mortals, rather than to play gratui- 
 tously the part of a fiery dragon. In short, 
 all other sports were suspended, so eagerly 
 did the revellers throng towards the place 
 of representation. 
 
 They would err greatly, who should re- 
 gulate their ideas of this dramatic exhibi- 
 tion upon those derived from a modern thea- 
 tre ; for the rude shews of Thespis were far 
 less different from those exhibited by Euri- 
 pides on the stage of Athens, with all its 
 magnificent decorations and pompof dresses 
 and of scenery. In the present case, there 
 were no scenes, no stage, no machinery, no 
 pit, box, and gallery, no box-lobby ; and, 
 what might in poor Scotland be some con- 
 solation for other negations, there was no 
 taking of money at the door. As in the de.
 
 6 THE ABBOT. 
 
 vices of the magnanimous Bottom, the ac- 
 tors had a green-sward plot for a stage, and 
 a hawthorn bush for a green-room and ty- 
 ring-house ; the spectators being accommo- 
 dated with seats on the artificial bank which 
 had been raised around tliree- fourths of the 
 play-ground, the remainder being left open 
 for the entrance and exit of the performers. 
 Here sate the uncritical audiencCjthe Cham- 
 berlain in the centre, as the person highest 
 in office, all alive to enjoyment and admi- 
 ration, and all therefore dead to criticism. 
 The characters which appeared and dis- 
 appeared before the amused and interested 
 audience, were those which fili the earlier 
 stage in all nations — old men, cheated by 
 their wives and daughters, piiiagecl by tneu 
 sons, and imposed on by their (iomestics, a 
 braggadocio captain, a knavish pardoner 
 or quaestionary, a country bumpkin, and a 
 wanton city-damc. Amid all these, and 
 more acceptable ihan almost the whole put 
 together, was the all-licensed fool, the Gra- 
 cioso of the Spanish drama, who, with his
 
 THE ABBOT. 7 
 
 cap fashioned into the resemblance of a 
 coxcomb, and his bauble, a truncheon ter- 
 minated by a carved figure, wearing a fool's- 
 cap in his hand, went, came, and returned, 
 mingling in every scene of the piece, and 
 interrupting the business, without having 
 any share himself in the action, and ever 
 and anon transferring his gibes from the 
 actors on the stage to the audience who 
 sate around, prompt to applaud the whole. 
 The wit of the piece, which was not of 
 the most polished kind, was chiefly directed 
 against the superstitious practices of the 
 Catholic religion j and the stage artillery 
 had on this occasion been levelled by no 
 less a person than Doctor Lundin, who 
 had not only commanded the manager of 
 the entertainment to select one of the nu- 
 merous satires which had been written 
 against the Papists, (several of which were 
 cast in a dramatic form,) but had even, like 
 the Prince of Denmark, caused them to in- 
 sert, or according to his own phrase to in- 
 fuse, here and there, a few pleasantries of
 
 8 THE ABBOT. 
 
 his own penning, on the same inexhaust- 
 ible subject, hoping thereby to mollify the 
 rigour of the Lady of Lochleven towards 
 pastimes of this description. He failed not 
 to jog Roland's elbow, who was sitting in 
 state behind him, and recommend to his 
 particular attention those favourite pas- 
 sages. As for the page, to whom the \^ry 
 idea of such an exhibition, simple as it 
 was, was entirely new, he belield it with 
 the undiminished and ecstatic delight with 
 which men ©f all ranks look for the first 
 time on dramatic representation, and laugh- 
 ed, shouted, and clapped his hands as the 
 performance proceeded. An incident at 
 length took place which effectually broke 
 ofl'his interest in the business of the scene. 
 One of the principal personages in the 
 comic part of the drama was, as we have 
 already said, a qua3Stionaryor pardoner, one 
 of those itinerants who hawked about from 
 place to place reliques, real or pretended, 
 with which he excited the devotion at once, 
 and thecharity of the populace, and general-
 
 THE ABBOT. i1 
 
 ly deceived both the one and the other. The 
 hypocrisy, impudence, and profligacy of 
 these clerical wanderers, had made them the 
 subject of satire from the time of Chaucer 
 down to that of Heywood. Their present 
 representative failed not to follow the same 
 line of humour, exhibiting pig's bones for 
 reliques, and boasting the virtues of small 
 tin a'osses, which had been shaken in the 
 holy porringer at Loretto, and of cockle- 
 shells, which had been brought from the 
 shrine of Saint James of Compostella, all 
 which he disposed of to the devout Catho- 
 lics at nearly as high a price as antiquaries 
 are now wilhng to pay for baubles of similar 
 intrinsic value. At length the pardoner 
 pulled from his scrip a small phial of clear 
 water, of which he vaunted the quality in 
 the following verses : — 
 
 Listneth, gode people, everiche one^ 
 
 For in the londe of Babylone, 
 
 Far eastward 1 wot it lyeth, 
 
 And is the first londe the sonne espieth^ 
 
 Ther, as he cometh fro out the se ; 
 
 In this ilk londe, as thinketh rae, 
 
 A 2
 
 10 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Right as holie legendes tell, 
 
 Snottreth from a roke a well, 
 
 And falleth into ane bath of ston, 
 
 Wher chast Susanne in times long gon, 
 
 Was wont to wash her bodie and lim— 
 
 Mickle vertue hath that streme. 
 
 As ye shall se er that ye pas, 
 
 Ensample by this little glas— 
 
 Through nightes cold and dayes hotCj 
 
 Hiderward I have it brought ; 
 
 Hath a wife made slip or slide. 
 
 Or a maiden stepp'd aside ; 
 
 Putteth this water under her nese, , j,^ 
 
 Wold she nold she, she shall snesc. , , 
 
 The jest, as the reader skilful in the an- 
 tique language of the drama must at once 
 perceive, turned on the same pivot as in the 
 old minstrel tales of the Drinking Horn of 
 King Arthur, and the Mantle made Amiss. 
 But the audience were neither learned nor 
 critical enough to challenge its want of ori- 
 ginality. The potent relique was, after 
 such grimace and buffoonery as betitted the 
 subject, presented successively to each of 
 tiie female personages of the drama, not 
 one of whom sustained the supposed test 
 of discretion; but, to the infinite delight of
 
 THE ABBOT. 11 
 
 the audience, sneezed niuch louder and 
 longer than perhaps they themselves had 
 counted on. The jest seemed at last worn 
 thread-b-ire, and the pardoner was passing 
 on to some new pleasantry, when the jester 
 or clown of the drama, possessing himself 
 secretly of the phial which contained the 
 wondrous liquor, applied it suddenly to the 
 nose of a young woman, who, with her 
 black silk muffler or screen drawn over her 
 face, was sitting in the foremost rank of the 
 spectators, intent apparently upon the bu- 
 siness of the stage. The contents of the 
 phial, well calculated to sustain the credit 
 of the pardoner's legend, set the damsel a 
 sneezing violently, an admission of frailty 
 which was received with shouts of rapture 
 by the audience. These were soon, how- 
 ever, renewed at the expence of the jester 
 himself, when the insulted maiden extrica- 
 ted, ere the paroxysm was well over, one 
 hand from the folds of her mantle, and be- 
 stowed on the wag a buffet, which made him 
 reel fully his own length from the pardoner,
 
 12 THE ABBOT. 
 
 and then acknowledge the favour by instant 
 prostration. 
 
 No one pities a jester overcome in his* 
 vocation, and the clown met with little sym- 
 pathy, when, rising from the ground, and 
 whimpering forth his complaints of harsh 
 treatment, he invoked the assistance and 
 sympathy of the audience. But the Cham- 
 berlain feeling his own dignity insulted, or- 
 dered two of his halberdiers to bring the 
 culprit before him. .When these official per- 
 sons first approached the virago, she threw 
 herself into an attitude of firm defiance, as 
 if determined to resist their authority ; and 
 from the sample of strength and spirit which 
 she had already displayed, they shewed no 
 alacrity at executing their commission. But 
 on half a minute's reflection, the damsel 
 changed totally her attitude and m.anner^ 
 folded her cloak around her arms in modest 
 and maiden-like fashion, and walked of her 
 own accord to the presence of the great 
 man, followed and guarded by the two man- 
 ful satellites. As she moved across the va»
 
 THE ABBOT. 13 
 
 cant space, and more especially as she stood 
 at the footstool of the doctor's judgment- 
 seat, the maiden discovered that lightnes3 
 and elasticity of step, and natural grace of 
 manner, which connoisseurs in female beau- 
 ty know to be seldom divided from it. 
 Moreover, her neat russet-coloured jacket, 
 and short petticoat of the same colour, dis- 
 played a handsome form and a pretty leg. 
 Her features were concealed by the screen ; 
 but the Doctor, whose gravity did not pre- 
 vent his pretensions to be a connoisseur of 
 the school we have hinted at, saw enough 
 to judge favourably of the piece by the 
 sample. 
 
 He began, however, with considerable 
 austerity of manner — '• And, how now, 
 saucy quean," said the medical man of of- 
 fice, ** what have you to say why I should 
 not order you to be ducked in the loch, for 
 lifting your hand to the man in my pre- 
 sence ?" 
 
 " Marry," replied the culprit^ " because
 
 14 THE ABBOT. 
 
 I judge that your honour will not think the 
 cold bath necessary for my complaints," 
 
 "A pestilent jade," said the Doctor, whis- 
 pering to Roland Graeme ; ** and I'll warrant 
 hei' a good one — her voice is as sweet as 
 syrup. — But, my pretty maiden," said he, 
 " you shew us wonderfully little of that 
 countenance of yours — be pleased to throw 
 aside your muffler." 
 
 " I trust your honour will excuse me till 
 we are more private," answered the maiden ; 
 ** for I have acquaintance, and I should like 
 ill to be known in the country as the poor 
 girl whom that scurvy knave put his jest 
 upon." 
 
 " Fear nothing for thy good name, my 
 sweet little modicum of candied manna," 
 replied the Doctor, ** for I protest to you, 
 as I am Chamberlain of Lochleven, Kin- 
 rosa, and so forth, that the ciiastc Susanna 
 herself could not have snutfed that elixir 
 without sternutation, being in truth a cu- 
 rious distillation of rectiried acctum, or vine- 
 gar of the sun, prepared by mine own hands
 
 THE ABBOT. 15 
 
 —•Wherefore, as thou sayest thou wilt come 
 to me in private, and express thy contrition 
 for the offence whereof thou hast been guil- 
 ty, I command that all for the present go 
 forward as if no such interruption of the 
 prescribed course had taken place." 
 
 The damsel curtsied and tripped back to 
 her place. The play proceeded, but it no 
 longer attracted the attention of Roland 
 Gramme. 
 
 The voice, the figure, and what the veil 
 permitted to be seen of the neck and tresses 
 of tlie village damsel, bore so strong a re- 
 semblance to those of Catherine Seyton, 
 that he felt like one bewildered in the mazes 
 of a changeful and stupifying dream. The 
 memorable scene of the hostelry rushed on 
 his recollection, with all its doubtful and 
 marvellous circumstances. Were the tales 
 of encliantment which he had read in ro- 
 mances realized in this extraordinary girl ^ 
 Could she transport herself from the walled 
 and guarded Castle of Lochleven, moated 
 with its broad lake, (towards which he cast 
 2
 
 16 THE ABBOT. 
 
 back a look as if to ascertain it was still in 
 existence,) and watched with such scrupu- 
 lous care as the safety of a nation demand- 
 ed — Could she surmount all these obstacles, 
 and make such careless and dangerous use 
 of her liberty, as to engage herself publicly 
 in a quarrel in a village fair ? Roland was 
 unable to determine whether the exertions 
 which it must have cost her to gain her 
 freedom, or the use to which she had put 
 it, rendered her the most unaccountable 
 creature. 
 
 Lost in these meditations, he kept his 
 gaze fixed on the subject of them ; and in 
 every casual motion, discovered, or thought 
 he discovered, something which reraindetl 
 him still more strongly of Catherine Seyton. 
 It occurred to him more than once, indeed, 
 that he might be deceiving himself by ex- 
 aggerating some casual likeness into abso- 
 lute identity. But then the meeting at the 
 hostelry of Saint Michael's returned to his 
 mind, and it seemed in the highest degree 
 improbable, that, under such various cir-
 
 THE ABBOT. 17 
 
 cumstances, mere imagination should twice 
 have found opportunity to play him the self- 
 same trick. This time, however, he deter- 
 mined to have his doubts resolved, and for 
 this purpose he sate during the rest of the 
 play like a grey-hound in the slip, ready 
 to spring upon the hare the instant that she 
 was started. The damsel, whom he watch- 
 ed attentively lest she should escape in 
 the crowd when the spectacle was closed, 
 sate as if perfectly unconscious that she was 
 observed. But the worthy Doctor marked 
 the direction of his eyes, and magnanimous- 
 ly suppressed his own inclination to become 
 the Theseus to this Hippolita, in deference to 
 the rights of hospitality which enjoined him 
 to forbear interference with the pleasurable 
 pursuits of his young friend. He passed one 
 or two formal gibes upon the fixed attention 
 which the page paid to the unknown, and 
 upon his ownjealousy; adding, however, that 
 if both were to be presented to the patient 
 at once, he had little doubt she would think 
 the younger man the sounder prescription.
 
 18 THE ABBOT. 
 
 « I fear me," he added, " we shall have no 
 news of the knave Auchternauchty for some 
 time, since the vermin whom 1 sent after 
 him seem to have proved corbie-messen- 
 gers. So you have an hour or two on your 
 hands, Master Page ; and as the minstrels 
 are beginning to strike up, now that the 
 play is ended, why, an you incline for a 
 dance, yonder is the green, and there sits 
 your partner — I trust you will hold me per- 
 fect in my diagnostics, since I see with half 
 an eye what disease you are sick of, and 
 have administered a pleasing remedy. 
 
 Discernit sapiens res (as Chambers hath it) quas con< 
 Jimdit asellus." 
 
 The page hardly heard the end of the 
 learned adage, or the charge which the 
 Chamberlain gave him to be within reacli, 
 in case of the wains arriving suddenly, and 
 sooner than expected — so eager he was at 
 once to shake himself free of his learned as- 
 sociate, and to satisfy his curiosity regard- 
 ing the unknown damsel. Yet, in the haste
 
 THE ABBOr. 19 
 
 with which he made towards her, he found 
 time to reflect, that in order to secure an 
 opportunity of conversing with her in pri- 
 vate, he must not alarm her at first accost- 
 ing her. He therefore composed his manner 
 and gait, and advancing with becoming self- 
 confidence before three or four country-fel- 
 lows who were intent on the same design, 
 but knew not so well how to put their re- 
 quest into shape, he acquainted her that he, 
 as the deputy of the venerable Chamberlain, 
 requested the honour of her hand as a part- 
 ner. 
 
 " The venerable Chamberlain," said the 
 damsel frankly, reaching the page her hand, 
 " does very well to exercise this part of his 
 prl^'ilogA Ky rlpputy ; and I supposfi the laws 
 of the revels leave me no choice but to ac- 
 cept of his faithful delegate." 
 
 ** Providing, fair damsel," said the page, 
 " his choice of a delegate is not altogether 
 distasteful to you." 
 
 " Of that, fair sir," replied the maiden,
 
 20 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ** I will tell you more when we have danced 
 the first measure." 
 
 We have mentioned that Catherine Sey- 
 ton had admirable skill in gestic lore, and 
 that she was sometimes called on to dance 
 for the amusement of her royal mistress, Ro- 
 land Graeme had often been a spectator of 
 her skill, and sometimes^at the Queen's com- 
 mand, Catherine's partner on such occasions. 
 He was, therefore, perfectly acquainted with 
 Catherine's mode of dancing ; and observed 
 that his present partner, in grace, in agili- 
 ty, in quickness of ear, and precision of exe- 
 cution, exactly resembled her, save that the 
 Scottish jigg, which he now danced with 
 her, required a more violent and rapid mo- 
 tion, and rnore rustio ngHity, than tUo otatc- 
 ly pavens, lavoltas, and courantoes, which 
 he had seen her execute in the chamber of 
 Queen Mary. The active duties of the 
 dance left him little time for reflection, and 
 none for conversation y but when their^^.? 
 des deux was finished, amidst the acclama-
 
 THE ABBOT. 21 
 
 tions of the villagers, who had seldom wit- 
 nessed such an exhibition, he took an oppor- 
 tunity, when they yielded up the green to 
 another couple, to use the privilege of a 
 partner, and enter into conversation with 
 the mysterious maiden whom he still held 
 by the hand. " Fair partner, may I not 
 crave the name of her who has graced me 
 thus far ?" 
 
 " You may,** said the maiden ; " but it 
 is a question whether I shall answer you." 
 
 «* And why T* asked Roland. 
 
 ** Because nobody gives anything for no- 
 thing — and you can tell me nothing in re- 
 turn which I care to hear." 
 
 ** Could I not tell you my name and li- 
 neage, in exchange for yours ?" returned 
 Roland. 
 
 *« No !" answered the maiden, ** for you 
 knorw little of either." 
 
 " How?'* said the page, somewhat an- 
 grily, 
 
 " Wrath you not for the matter," said 
 the damsel j *' I will shew you in an instant 
 13
 
 22 THE ABBOT. 
 
 that 1 know more of you than you do of 
 yourself." 
 
 " Indeed !" answered Grseme j " for whom 
 then do you take me ?" 
 
 ** For the wild falcon," answered she, 
 " whom a dog brought in his mouth to a 
 certain castle, when he was but an unfled- 
 ged eyass — for the hawk whom men dare 
 not let fly, lest he should check at game, 
 and pounce on carrion — whom folks must 
 keep hooded till he has the proper light of 
 his eyes, and can discover good from evil." 
 
 «' Well — be it so," replied Roland Graeme ; 
 *' I guess at a part of your parable, fair mis- 
 tress mine — and perhaps I know as much 
 of you as you do of me, and can well dis- 
 pense with the information which you are 
 so niggard in giving." 
 
 '* Prove that," said the maiden, " and 1 
 will give you credit for more penetration 
 than I judged you to be gifted withal." 
 
 *' It shall be proved instantly," said Ro- 
 land Gramme. ** The first letter of your 
 name is S, and the last N."
 
 THE ABBOT. 23 
 
 '* Admirable !" said his partner ; " guess 
 on." 
 
 " It pleases you to-day," continued Ro- 
 land, " to wear the snood and kirtle, and 
 perhaps you may be seen to-morrow in hat 
 and feather, hose and doublet. 
 
 " In the clout ! in the clout ! you have 
 hit the very white," said the damsel, sup- 
 pressing a great inclination to laugh. 
 
 *' You can switch men's eyes out of their 
 heads as well as the heart out of their bo- 
 soms." 
 
 These last words were uttered in a low 
 and tender tone, which, to Roland's great 
 mortification, and somewhat to his displea- 
 sure, was so far from allaying, that it great- 
 ly increased his partner's disposition to 
 laughter. She could scarce compose her- 
 self while she replied, " If you had thought 
 my hand so formidable," extricating it from 
 his grasp, " you would not have grasped it 
 so hard ; but I perceive you know me so 
 fully, that there is no occasion to shew you 
 my face."
 
 24 THE ABBOT. 
 
 *« Fair Catherine," said the page, ** he 
 were unworthy ever to have seen you, far 
 less to have dwelt so long in the same ser- 
 vice, and under the same roof with you, who 
 could mistake your air, your gesture, your 
 step in walking or ir dancing, the turn of 
 your neck, the symmetry of your form — 
 none could be so dull as not to recognize 
 you by so many proofs ; but for me, I could 
 Bwear even to that tress of hair that escapes 
 from under your muffler." 
 
 " And to the face of course which that 
 muffler covers," said the maiden, removing 
 h^r veil, and in an instant endeavouring to 
 replace it. She shewed the features of Ca- 
 tlierine ; but an unusual degree of petulant 
 impatience inflamed them, when, from some 
 awkwardness in her management of the 
 muffler, she was unable again to adjust it 
 with that dexterity which was a principal 
 accomplishment of the coquettes of the 
 time. 
 
 ** The fiend rive the rag to tatters," said 
 the damsel, as the veil fluttered about her
 
 THE ABBOT. 25 
 
 shoulders, with an accent so earnest and 
 decided, that it made the page start. He 
 looked again at the damsel's face, but the 
 information which his eyes received, was to 
 the same purport as before. He assisted 
 her to adjust her muffler, and both were for 
 for an instant silent. The damsel spoke 
 first, for Roland Graeme was overwhelmed 
 wuth surprise at the contrarieties which Ca- 
 therine Seyton seemed to include in her 
 person and character 
 
 *' You are surprised," said the damsel to 
 him, " at what you see and hear — But the 
 times which make females men, are least of 
 all fitted for men to become women ; yet you 
 yourself are in danger of such a change." 
 
 " I in danger of becoming effeminate 1" 
 said the page. 
 
 " Yes you, for all the boldness of your 
 reply," said the damsel. " When you should 
 hold fast your religion, because it is assailed 
 on all sides by rebels, traitors, and heretics, 
 you let it glide oat of your breast like wa- 
 
 VOL. III. B
 
 2G THE ABBOT. 
 
 ler grasped in the hand. If you are driven 
 from the faith of your fathers from fear of 
 a traitor, is not that womanish ? — If you 
 are cajoled by the cunning arguments of a 
 trumpeter of heresy, or the praises of a pu- 
 ritanic old woman, is not that womanish? 
 — If you are bribed by the hope of spoil 
 and preferment, is not tlmt womanish ? — 
 And when you wonder at my venting a 
 threat or an execration, should you not 
 v'onder at yourself, who, pretending to a 
 gentle name and aspiring to knighthood, 
 can be at the same time cowardly, silly, 
 and self-interested ?" 
 
 *' I would that a man would bring such 
 a charge," said the page ; *' he should see, 
 ere his life was a minute older, whether he 
 h.ad cause to term me coward or no." 
 
 '• Beware of such big words," answered 
 the maiden ; " you said but anon that 1 
 sometimes wear hose and doublet." 
 
 " But remain still Catherine Seyton, 
 wear what you list," said the page, endea-
 
 THE ABBOT. 27 
 
 vouring again to possess himself of her 
 hand. 
 
 " You indeed are pleased to call nie 
 so," replied the maiden, evading his inten- 
 tion, '* but I have many another name be- 
 sides." 
 
 *' And will you not reply to that," said 
 the page, •' by which you are distinguish- 
 ed beyond every other maiden in 5jcot- 
 land ?" 
 
 The damsel, unallured by his praises, stili 
 kept aloof, and sung with gaiety a verse frnm 
 an old ballad, 
 
 " O some do call me Jack, sweet love. 
 
 And some do call me Gill , 
 But when I ride to Holyrood, 
 
 My name is Wilful Will." 
 
 " Wilful Will ! ' exclaimed the page, 
 impatiently ; *' say rather Will o' the Wisp 
 — Jack with the lantern, for never was such 
 a deceitful or wandering meteor." 
 
 '• If I be such," replied the maiden, " i
 
 28 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ask no fools to follow me — If they do so, it 
 IS at their own pleasure, and must be on 
 their own proper peril." 
 
 " Nay, but, dearest Catherine," said 
 Roland Grasme, " be for one instant se- 
 rious." 
 
 *' If you will call me your dearest Ca- 
 therine, when I have given you so many 
 names to chuse upon," replied the dam- 
 sel, ** I would ask you how, supposing me 
 for two or three hours of my life escaped 
 from yonder tower, you have the cruelty 
 to ask me to be serious during the only 
 merry moments I have seen perhaps for 
 months ?" 
 
 " Ay, but, fair Catherine, there are mo- 
 ments of deep and true feeling, which are 
 worth ten thousand years of the liveliest 
 mirth ; and such was that of yesterday, when 
 you so nearly" 
 
 *• So nearly what ?" demanded the dam- 
 sel, hastily. 
 
 " When you approached your lips so
 
 THE ABBOT. 29 
 
 near to the sign you had traced on my fore- 
 head." 
 
 " ^lother of Heaven !" said she in a yet 
 fiercer tone, and with a more masculine 
 manner than she had yet exhibited ; " Ca- 
 therine Seyton approach her lips to a man's 
 brow, and thou that man ! — vassal, thou 
 lie3t !" 
 
 The page stood astonished ; but, concei- 
 ving he had alarmed the damsel's delicacy 
 by alluding to the enthusiasm of a moment, 
 and the manner in which she had express- 
 ed it, he endeavoured to faulter forth an 
 apology. His excuses, though he was un- 
 able to give them any regular shape, were 
 accepted by his companion, who had indeed 
 suppressed her indignation after its first ex- 
 plosion — " Speak no more on't," she said ; 
 " and now let us part, our conversation may 
 attract more notice than is convenient for 
 either of us." 
 
 " Nay, but allow me at least to follow 
 you to some sequestered place."
 
 50 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " You dare not," replied the maiden. 
 
 *' How," said the youth, •' dare not? 
 where is it you dare go, where I dare not 
 lollow ?" 
 
 " You fear a Will o' the Wisp," said the 
 damsel j '' how would you face a fiery dra- 
 gon, with an enchantress mounted on its 
 hack ?" 
 
 " Like Sir Eger, Sir Grime, or Sir Grey- 
 steil," said the page ; " but be there such 
 toys to be seen here ?" 
 
 "I go to Mother Nicneven's," answer- 
 ed the maid j " and she is witch enough to 
 rein the horned devil, with a red silk thread 
 for a bridle, and a rowan-tree switch for a 
 whip." 
 
 <♦ I will follow you," said the page. 
 
 " Let it be at some distance," said the* 
 maiden. 
 
 And wrapping her mantle around her 
 with more success than on her former at- 
 tempt, she mingled with the throng, and 
 walked towards the village, heedfuUy fol-
 
 THE ABBOT. 31 
 
 lowed by Roland Graeme at some distance, 
 and under every precaution which he could 
 use to prevent his purpose from being ob- 
 served.
 
 32 THE ABBOT. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Yes; it is he whose eyes look'd on thy childhood, 
 And watch d with trembUng hope thy dawn of youth. 
 That now, with these same eye-balls dimm'd with age. 
 And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonour. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 At the entrance of the principal^ or in. 
 deed so to speak, the only street in Kinross, 
 the damsel, whose steps were pursued by 
 Roland Graeme, cast a glance behind her, 
 as if to be certain he had not lost trace of 
 her, and then plunged down a very narrow 
 lane which run betwixt two rows of poor 
 and ruinous cottages. She paused for a se- 
 cond at the door of one of those miserable 
 tenements, again cast her eye up the lane 
 towards Roland, then lifted the latch, open- 
 ed the door, and disappeared from his view. 
 
 With whatever haste the page followed
 
 THE ABBOT. 3f> 
 
 her example, the difficulty which he found 
 in discovering the trick of the latch, which 
 did not work quite in the usual manner, 
 and in pushing open the door, which did 
 not yield to his first effort, delayed for a 
 minute or two his entrance into the cot- 
 tage. A dark and smoky passage passed as 
 usual betwixt the exterior wall of the house, 
 and the liallan or clay-wall which served as 
 a partition betwixt and the interior. At the 
 end of this passage and through the parti- 
 tion, was a door leading into the hen^ or 
 inner chamber of the cottage, and when 
 Roland Graeme's hand was upon the latch 
 of this door, a female voice pronounced, 
 '•' Boiedictiis qui veniat in nomine Dommit 
 damnandus qui in nomine inimici" On en- 
 tering the apartment, he perceived the figure 
 which the chamberlain had pointed out to 
 him as Mother Nicneven, seated beside the 
 lowly hearth. But there was no other per- 
 son in the room. Roland Gramme gazed 
 around in surprise at the disappearance of 
 Catherine Seyton, without paying much re- 
 B 2
 
 34 THE ABBOT. 
 
 gard to the supposed sorceress, until she 
 attracted and rivetted his regard by the 
 tone in which she asked him — '• What seek- 
 est thou here ?" 
 
 ** I seek," said the page, with much em- 
 barrassment ; "I seek" 
 
 But his answer was cut short, when the 
 old woman, drawing her huge grey eye- 
 brows sternly together, with a frown which 
 knitted her brow into a thousand wrinkles, 
 arose, and stretching herself up to her full 
 natural size, tore the kerchief from her 
 head, and seizing Roland by the arm, made 
 two sirides across the floor of the apartment 
 to a small window through which the light 
 fell full on her face, and shewed the asto- 
 nished youth the countenance of Magdalen 
 Graeme. — *' Yes, Roland," she said, " thine 
 eyes deceive thee not, they shew thee truly 
 the features of her whom thou hast thyself 
 deceived, whose wine thou hast turned into 
 gall, her bread of joyfulness into bitter poi- 
 son, her hope into the blackest despair — it is 
 she who now demands of thee what seekest
 
 THE ABBOT. S5 
 
 thou here ? — She whose heaviest sin towards 
 Heaven hath been that she loved thee even 
 better than the weal of the whole church, 
 and could not without reluctance surrender 
 thee even in the cause of God — she now 
 asks you what seekest thou here ?" 
 
 While she spoke, she kept her broad black 
 eye rivetted on the youth's face, with the 
 expression with which the eagle regards his 
 prey ere he tears it to pieces. Roland felt 
 himself at the moment incapable either 
 of reply or evasion. This extraordinary 
 enthusiast had preserved over him in some 
 measure the ascendancy which she had 
 acquired during his childhood j and besides 
 he knew the violence of her passions and 
 her impatience of contradiction, and was 
 sensible that almost any reply which he 
 could make, was like to throw her into an 
 ecstacy of rage- He was therefore silent, 
 and Magdalen Graeme proceeded with en- 
 creasing enthusiasm in her apostrophe — 
 *' Once more, what seek'st thou, fa,lse boy ? 
 — seek'st thou the honour thou hast renoun-
 
 3t) THE ABBOT. 
 
 ced, the faith thou hast abandoned, the 
 hopes thou hast destroyed ? — Or didst thou 
 seek me, the sole protectress of thy youth, 
 the only parent whom thou hast known, 
 that thou mayst trample on my grey hairs, 
 even as thou hast already trampled on the 
 best wishes of my heart ?" 
 
 " Pardon me, mother," said Roland 
 Graeme ; '' but, in truth and reason, 1 de- 
 serve not your blame — I have been treated 
 amongstyou — even byyourself, my reverend 
 parent, as well as by others, — as one who 
 lacked the common attributes of free-will 
 and human reason, or was at least deemed 
 unfit to exercise them. A land of enchant- 
 ment have I been led into, and spells have 
 been cast around me — every one has met 
 me in disguise — every one has spoke to me 
 injparables — I have been like one who walks 
 in a weary and bewildering dream, and now 
 you blame me that I have not the sense, and 
 judgment, and steadiness of a waking, and 
 a disenchanted, and a reasonable man, who 
 knows what he is doing, and wherefore he
 
 THE ABBOT. 37 
 
 does it. If one must walk with masks and 
 spectres, who waft themselves from place to 
 place as it were in vision rather than reality, 
 it might shake the soundest faith and turn 
 the wisest head. I sought, since I must 
 needs avow my folly, the same Catherine 
 Seyton with whom you made me first ac- 
 quainted, and whom I most strangely find 
 in this village of Kinross, gayest among the 
 revellers, when I had but just left her in the 
 well-guarded castle of Lochleven, the sad 
 attendant of an imprisoned Queen — I sought 
 her, and in her place I find you, my mother, 
 more strangely disguised than even she is." 
 
 *< And what hadst thou to do with Ca- 
 therine Seyton ?" said the matron, sternly ; 
 <* is this a time or a world to follow maidens, 
 or to dance around a maypole ? When the 
 trumpet summons every true-hearted Scots- 
 man around the standard of the true sove- 
 reign, shalt thou be found loitering in a 
 lady's bower ?" 
 
 " No, by Heaven, nor imprisoned in the 
 rugged walls of an island castle 1" answered 
 
 S .":
 
 S8 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Roland Grceme -, " I would the blast were 
 to sound even now, for I fear that nothing 
 less loud w.ill dispel the chimerical visions 
 by which I am surrounded." 
 
 " Doubt not that it will be winded/' said 
 the matron, " and that so fearfully loud, that 
 Scotland will never hear the like until the 
 last and loudest blast of all shall announce 
 to mountain and to valley that time is no 
 more. Meanwhile, be thou but brave and 
 constant — Serve God and honour thy sove- 
 reign — Abide by thy religion. — I cannot — 
 I will not — I dare not ask thee the truth of 
 the terrible surmises I have heard touching 
 thy falling away — perfect not that accursed 
 sacrifice — and yet, even at this late hour, 
 thou mayst be what 1 have hoped for the 
 son of my dearest hope^ — what say I.? theson 
 oimy hope — thou shall be the hope of Scot- 
 land, her boast and her honour 1 — Even thy 
 wildest and most foolish wishes may per- 
 chance be fulfilled — I shame to mingle mean- 
 er motives with the noble guerdon I hold out 
 to thee — It shames me, being such as I am,
 
 THE ABBOT. 39 
 
 to mention the idle passions of youth, save 
 with contempt and the purpose of censure. 
 But we must bribe cliildren to wholesome 
 medicine by the offer of cates, and youth 
 to honourable achievement with the pro- 
 mise of pleasure. Mark me, therefore, Ro- 
 land. The love of Catherine Seyton will 
 follow him only who shall achieve the free- 
 dom of her mistress ; and believe, it may 
 be one day in thine own power to be 
 that happy lover. Cast, therefore, away 
 doubt and fear, and prepare to do what re- 
 ligion calls for, what thy country demands 
 of thee, what thy duty as a subject and as 
 a servant alike require at your hand ; and 
 be assured even the idlest wishes of thy 
 heart will be most readily attained by fol- 
 lowing the call of thy duty." 
 
 As she ceased speaking, a double knock 
 was heard against the inner door. The ma- 
 tron hastily adjusting her muffler, and re- 
 suming her chair by the hearth, demanded 
 who was there.
 
 40 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Salve in nomnie sancfo,'' was answered 
 from without. 
 
 " Salvete et vos," answered Magdalen 
 Gr^me. 
 
 And a man entered in the ordinary dress 
 of a nobleman's retainer, wearing at his 
 girdle a sword and buckler — " 1 sought 
 you," said he, " my mother, and him whom 
 I see with you." Then addressing himself 
 to Roland Graeme, he said to him, ** Hast 
 thou not a packet from George Douglas ? ' 
 
 " I have," said the page, suddenly recol- 
 lecting that which had been committed to 
 his cliarge in the morning, " but I may not 
 deliver it to any one without some token 
 that they have right to ask it." 
 
 *• You say well," replied the serving-man, 
 and whispered into his ear, *' The packet 
 which I ask is the report to his father — will 
 this token suffice ?" 
 
 '• It will," replied the page, and taking 
 the packet from his bosom, gave it to the 
 man.
 
 THE ABBOT. 41 
 
 " I will return presently," said the ser- 
 ving-man, and left the cottage. 
 
 Roland had now sufficiently recovered his 
 surprise to accost his relative in turn, and 
 request to know the reason why he found 
 her in so precarious a disguise, and a place 
 so dangerous — " You cannot be ignorant," 
 he said, " of the hatred that the Lady of 
 Lochleven bears to those of your — that is 
 of our religion — j'our present disguise lays 
 you open to suspicions of a different kind, 
 but inferring no less hazard ; and whether 
 as a Catholic, or as a sorceress, or as a friend 
 to the unfortunate Queen, you are in equal 
 danger, if apprehended within the bounds 
 oftheDouglasj and in the Chamberlain, who 
 administers their authority, you have, for 
 his own reasons, an enemy, and a bitter one." 
 
 *« I know it," said the matron, her eyes 
 kindling with triumph ; ** I know that, vain 
 of his school- craft, and carnal wisdom, Luke 
 Lundin views with jealousy and hatred the 
 blessings which the saints have conferred on 
 my prayers, and on the holy reliques, before
 
 42 THE ABBOT. 
 
 the touch, nay, before the bare presence of 
 which, disease and death have so often been 
 known to retreat — I know he would rend 
 and tear me ; but there is a chain and a 
 muzzle on the ban- dog that shall restrain 
 his fury, and the Master's servant shall not 
 be offended by him until the Master's work 
 is wrought. When that hour comes, let the 
 shadows of the evening descend on me in 
 thunder and in tempest ; the time shall be 
 welcome that relieves my eyes from seeing 
 guilt, and my ears from listening to blas- 
 phemy. Do thou but be constant — play 
 thy part as I have played and will play 
 mine, and my release shall be like that of a 
 blessed martyr which angels hail with psalm 
 and song, while earth pursues him with hiss 
 and with execration." 
 
 As she concluded, the serving-man again 
 entered the cottage, and said, *' All is well ! 
 the time holds for to-morrow night." 
 
 '* What time ? what holds ?" exclaimed 
 Roland Graeme ; '* 1 trust 1 have given the 
 Douglas's packet to no wrong"
 
 THE ABBOT. 48 
 
 " Content yourself, young man," answer- 
 ed the serving- man j " thou hast my word 
 and token." 
 
 *' I know not if the token be right," said 
 the page j " and I care not much for the 
 word of a stranger." 
 
 " What," said the matron, " although 
 thou mayst have given a packet delivered 
 to thy charge by one of the Queen's rebels 
 into the hand of a loyal subject — there were 
 no great mistake in that, thou hot-brained 
 boy." 
 
 " By Saint Andrew, there were foul mis- 
 take though," answered the page ; *' it is 
 the very spirit of my duty, in this first stage 
 of chivalry, to be faithful to my trust ; and 
 had Che devil given me a message to dis- 
 charge, I would not (so I had plighted my 
 faith to the contrary) betray his counsel to 
 an angel of light." 
 
 " Now, by the love I once bore thee," said 
 the matron, " I could slay thee with mine 
 own hand, when 1 hear thee talk of a dearer
 
 44 THE ABBOT. 
 
 faith being due to rebels and heretics, than 
 thou owest to thy church and thy prince 1" 
 
 " Be patient, my good sister," said the 
 serving- man, *♦ I will give him such reasons 
 as shall counterbalance the scruples which 
 beset him — the spirit is honourable, though 
 now it may be mistimed and misplaced — 
 Follow me, young man." 
 
 *' Ere I go to call this stranger to a reck- 
 oning," said the page to the matron, " is 
 there nothing I can do for your comfort 
 and safety ?" 
 
 ** Nothing," she replied, " nothing, save 
 what will lead more to thy own honour — the 
 saints who have protected me thus far, will 
 lend me succour as I need it. Tread the 
 path of glory that is before thee, and only 
 think of me as the creature on earth who 
 will be most delighted to hear of thy fame. 
 — Follow the stranger — he hath tidings for 
 you that you little expect." 
 
 The stranger remained on the threshold 
 as if waiting tor Roland, and whenever he
 
 THE ABBOT. 45 
 
 saw him put himself in motion, he moved 
 on before him at a quick pace. Diving 
 still deeper down the lane, Roland per- 
 ceived that it was now bordered by build- 
 ings upon the one side only, and that the 
 other was fenced by a high old wall, over 
 which some trees extended their branches. 
 Descending a good way farther, they came 
 to a small door in the wall. Roland's guide 
 paused, looked around for an instant to see 
 if any one were within sight, then taking 
 a key from his pocket, opened the door and 
 entered, making a sign to Roland Grceme 
 to follow him. The guided did so, and the 
 stranger locked the door carefully on the 
 inside. During this operation the page had 
 a moment to look around, and perceived 
 that he was in a small orchard very trimly 
 kept. 
 
 The stranger led him through an alley or 
 two, shaded by trees loaded with summer- 
 fruit, into a pleached arbour, where, taking 
 the turf seat which was on the one side, he 
 motioned to Roland to occupy that which
 
 46 THE ABBOT. 
 
 was opposite to him, and after a momentary 
 silence, opened the conversL^tion as follows : 
 " You have asked '^. better warrant than the 
 word of a mere stranger, to satisfy you that 
 I have the authority of George of Douglas 
 for possessing myself of the packet entrust- 
 ed to your charge ?" 
 
 '' It is precisely the point on which 1 de- 
 mand reckoning of you," said Roland. " I 
 fear I have acted hastily ; if so, I must re- 
 deem my error as I best may." 
 
 " You hold me then as a perfect stran- 
 ger?" said the man. " Look at my face more 
 attentively, and see if the features do not 
 resemble those of a man much known to 
 you formerly." 
 
 Roland gazed attentively, but the ideas 
 recalled to his mind were so inconsistent 
 with the mean and servile dress of the per- 
 son before him, that he did not venture to 
 express the opinion which he was irresisti- 
 bly induced to form. 
 
 " Yes ! my son," said the stranger, ob- 
 serving his embarrassment, " you do indeed
 
 THE ABBOT. 47 
 
 see before you the unfortunate Father Am- 
 brose, who once accounted his ministry 
 crowned in your preservation from the 
 snares of heresy, but who is now condemn- 
 ed to lament thee as a cast-away !" 
 
 Roland Graeme's kindness of heart was 
 at least equal to his vivacity of temper — he 
 could not bear to see his ancient and ho- 
 noured master and spiritual guide in a si- 
 tuation which inferred a change of fortune 
 so melancholy, but, throwing himself at his 
 feet, grasped his knees and wept aloud. 
 
 " What mean these tears, my son ?" said 
 the Abbot ; •' if they are shed for your own 
 sins and follies, surely they are gracious 
 showers, and may avail thee much — but 
 weep not, if they fall on my account. You 
 indeed see the Superior of the Community 
 of vSaint iMary's, in tlie dress of a poor sword- 
 er, who gives his master the use of his blade 
 and buckler, and, ifneedful,.of his life, for a 
 coarse livery coat, and four marks by the 
 year. But such a garb suits the time, and, 
 
 11
 
 4iS THE ABBOT. 
 
 in the period of the church militant, as well 
 becomes her prelates, as staff, mitre, and 
 crosier, in the days of the church's triumph." 
 
 '* By what fate," said the page, — " and yet 
 why," added he, checking himself, " need 
 I ask ? Catherine Seyton in some sort pre- 
 pared me for this. But that the change 
 should be so absolute — the destruction so 
 complete 1"- 
 
 " Yes, my son," said the Abbot Ambro- 
 sius, " thine own eyes beheld, in my un- 
 worthy elevation to the Abbot's stall, the 
 last especial act of holy solemnity which 
 shall be seen in the church of Saint Mary's, 
 until it shall please Heaven to turn back the 
 captivity of the church. For the present, the 
 shepherd is smitten — ay, well nigh to the 
 earth — the flock are scattered, and the 
 shrines of saints and martyrs, and pious be- 
 nefactors to the church, are given to the 
 owls of night, and the satyrs of the desert." 
 
 " And your brother, the Knight of Ave- 
 nel — could he do nothing for your protec- 
 tion ?"
 
 THE ABBOT. 49 
 
 " He himself hath fallen under the sus- 
 picion of" the ruling powers," said the Ab- 
 bot, " who are as unjust to their friends as 
 they are cruel to their enemies. I could 
 not grieve at it, did I hope it might estrange 
 him from his course ; but I know the soul 
 of Halbert, and I rather fear it will drive 
 him to prove his fidelity to their unhappy 
 cause, by some deed which may be yet more 
 destructive to the church, and more offen- 
 sive to heaven. Enough of this, and now 
 to the business of our meeting — I trust you 
 will hold it sufl[icient if I pass my word to 
 you that the packet of which you were late- 
 ly the bearer, was designed for my hands by 
 George of Douglas ?" 
 
 '* Then," said the page, " is George of 
 Douglas" 
 
 " A true friend to his Queen, Roland ; 
 and will soon, I trust, have his eyes opened 
 to the errors of his (miscalled) church." 
 
 " But what is he to his father, and what 
 to the Lady of Lochleven, who has been 
 
 VOL. III. c
 
 50 THE ABBOT. 
 
 as a mother to him ?" said the page impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 *♦ The best friend to both, in time and 
 through eternity," said the Abbot, " if he' 
 shall prove the happy instrument for re- 
 deeming the evil they have wrought, and 
 are still working^." 
 
 " Still," said the page, '* I like not that 
 good service v/hich begins in breach of 
 trust." 
 
 "I blame not thy scruples, my son," said 
 the Abbot; "butthe time which has wrench- 
 ed asunder the allegiance of Christians to 
 the church, and of subjects to their king, 
 has dissolved all the lesser bonds of society ; 
 and, in such days, mere human ties must no 
 more restrain our progress, than the bram- 
 bles and briars, which catch hold of his gar- 
 ments, should delay the path of a pilgrim 
 who travels to pay his vows." 
 
 ** But, my father," said the youth, and 
 then stopped short in a hesitating manner. 
 
 «« Speak on my son," said the Abbot j 
 " speak without fiear."
 
 THE ABBuT. Bl 
 
 " Let me not (offend you tlien," said Ro- 
 land, " when I say that it is even this wjiich 
 our adversaries charge against us ; that sha- 
 ping the means according to the end, we are 
 willing to commit great moral evil in order 
 that we may work out eventual good." 
 
 " The heretics have played their usual 
 arts on you, my son," said the Abbot} " they 
 would wilhngly deprive us of the power 
 of acting wisely and secretly, though their 
 possession of superior force forbids our con- 
 tending with them on the terms of equali- 
 ty. They have reduced us to a state of ex- 
 hausted w^eakness, and now would fain pro- 
 scribe the means by which weakness, through 
 all the range of nature, supplies the lack 
 of strength, and defends itself against its 
 potent eneniics. As well migiit the hound 
 say to the hare, use not these wily turns to 
 escape me, but contend with me in pitched 
 battle, as the armed and powerful heretic 
 demand of the down-trodden and oppressed 
 Catholic to lay aside the wisdom of the ser- 
 pent, by which alone they may again hope
 
 52 THE ABBOT. 
 
 to raise up the Jerusalem over which they 
 weep, and which it is their duty to rebuild 
 — But more of this hereafter. And now, 
 my son, I command thee on thy failh to 
 tell me truly and particularly what has chan- 
 ced to thee since we parted, and what is 
 the present state of thy conscience. Thy 
 relation, our sister Magdalen, is a woman 
 of excellent gifts, blessed with a zeal which 
 neither doubt nor danger can quench ; but 
 yet it is not a zeal altogether according to 
 knowledge ; wherefore, my son, I would 
 willingly be myself thy interrogator and thy 
 counsellor, in these days of darkness and 
 stratagem." 
 
 With the respect which he owed to his 
 first instructor, Koland Grseme went rapid- 
 ly through the events which the reader is 
 acquainted with ; and while he disguised 
 not from the prelate the impression which 
 had been made on his mind by the argu- 
 ments of the preacher Henderson, he ac- 
 cidentally, and almost involuntarily, gave 
 his Father Confessor to understand the in-
 
 THE ABBOT. 53 
 
 fluence which Catherine Seyton had acqui- 
 red over his mind. 
 
 ** It is with joy I discover, my dearest 
 son," repHed the Abbot, " that I have ar- 
 rived in time to arrest thee on the verge of 
 the precipice to which thou wert approach- 
 ing. These doubts of which you complain, 
 are the weeds which naturally grow up in 
 a strong soil, and require the careful hand 
 of the husbandman to eradicate them. Thou 
 must study a little volume, which I will 
 impart to thee in fitting time, in which, by 
 Our Lady's grace, I have placed in some- 
 what a clearer light than heretofore, the 
 points debated betwixt us and these here- 
 tics, who sow among the wheat the same 
 tares which were formerly privily mingled 
 with the good seed by the Albigenses and 
 the Lollards. But it is not by reason alone 
 that you must hope to conquer these insi- 
 nuations of the enemy : It is sometimes 
 by timely resistance, but oftener by timely 
 flight. You must shut your ears against 
 the arguments of the heresiarch, when cir-
 
 5i THE ABBOT. 
 
 ciimstances permit you not to withdraw 
 the foot from his company. Anchor your 
 thoughts upon the service of Our Lady, 
 while he is expending in vain his hereti- 
 cal sophistry. Are you unable to maintain 
 your attention on heavenly objects, think 
 rather on thine own earthly pleasures, than 
 tempt Providence and the Saints, by giving 
 an attentive ear to the erring doctrine- 
 think of thy hawk, thy hound, thine angling- 
 rod, thy sword and buckler — think even 
 of Catherine Seyton, rather than give thy 
 soul to the lessons of the tempter. Alas ! my 
 son, believe not that, worn out vvith woes, 
 and bent more by afiHiction than by years, 
 I have forgotten the effect of beauty over 
 the heart of youth. Even in the watches of 
 the niglit, broken by thoughts of an impri- 
 soned Qaeen, a distracted kingdom, a church 
 laid waste and ruinous, come other thoughts 
 than these suggest, and feelings which be- 
 longed to an earlier and happier course of 
 life. Be it so— we must bear our load as 
 we may ; and not in vain are these passions
 
 THE ABBOT. 55 
 
 implanted in our breast, since, as now in 
 tby case, they may come in aid of resolu- 
 tions founded upon higher grounds. Yet 
 beware, my son — this Catherine Seyton is 
 the daughter of one of Scotland's proudest, 
 as well as most worthy barons j and thy 
 state may not suffer thee, as yet, to aspire 
 so high. But thus it is — Heaven works its 
 purposes through human folly ; and Dou- 
 glas's ambitious affection, as well as thine. 
 shall contribute alike to the desired end." 
 
 ** How, my father," said the page, •* my 
 suspicions are then true! — Douglas loves" — 
 
 '' He does ; and with a love as much 
 misplaced as thine own j but beware of him 
 ■ — cross him not — thwart him not." 
 
 " Let him not cross or thwart me," said 
 the page ; " for I will not yield him an 
 inch of way, had he in his body the soul of 
 every Douglas that has lived since the time 
 of the Dark Grey Man." 
 
 •* Nay, have patience, idle boy, and re. 
 fleet that your suit can never interfere with 
 his — a truce with these vanities, and let us
 
 56 THE ABBOT. 
 
 better employ the little space which it still 
 remains to us to spend together. To thy 
 knees, my son, and resume the long inter- 
 rupted duty of confession ; that, happen 
 what may, the hour may find in thee a faith- 
 ful Catholic, relieved from the guilt of his 
 sins by authority of the Holy Church. Could 
 I but tell thee, Roland, the joy with which 
 I see thee once more put thy knee to its 
 best and fittest use ! Quid dicis, mi fill ?" 
 
 " Culpas meas,'^ answered the youth ; and 
 according to the ritual of the Catholic 
 Church, he confessed and received absolu- 
 tion, to which was annexed the condition 
 of performing certain enjoined penances. 
 
 When this religious ceremony was end- 
 ed, an old man, in the dress of a peasant of 
 the better order, approached the arbour 
 and greeted the Abbot — " I have waited 
 the conclusion of your devotions," he said, 
 •' to tell you the youth is sought after by 
 the Chamberlain, and it were well he were 
 to appear without delay. Holy Saint Fran- 
 cis, if the halberdiers were to seek him here.
 
 THE ABBOr. 57 
 
 they might sorely wrong my garden-plot — 
 they are in office and reck not where they 
 tread, were each step on jessamine and 
 clove-jilliflowers." 
 
 *' We will speed him forth, my brother," 
 said the Abbot ; " but alas ! is it possible 
 that such trifles should live in your mind 
 at a crisis so awful as that which is now im- 
 pending ?" 
 
 " Reverend father," answered the proprie- 
 tor of the garden, for such he was, " how 
 oft shall I pray you to keep your high coun- 
 sel for high minds like your own ? What 
 have you required of me, that I have not 
 granted unresistingly, though with a sore 
 heart ?" 
 
 *' 1 would require of you to be yourself, 
 my brother," said the Abbot Ambrosius ; 
 *♦ to remember what you were, and to what 
 your early vows have bound you." 
 
 " I tell thee, Father Ambrosius," replied 
 
 the gardener, *' the patience of the best 
 
 saint that ever said pater-noster, would be 
 
 exhausted by the trials to which you have 
 
 C 2
 
 58 THE ABBOT. 
 
 put mine — What I have been, it skills not 
 to speak at present — no one knows better 
 than yourself, father, what I renounced, 
 in hopes to find ease and quiet during the 
 remainder of my days — and no one bet- 
 ter knows how my retreat has been inva- 
 ded, my fruit-trees broken, my flower-beds 
 trodden down, my quiet frightened away, 
 and my very sleep driven from my bed, 
 since ever this poor Queen, God bless 
 her, hath been sent to Lochleveii. — I blame 
 her not; being a prisoner, it is natural she 
 should wish to get out from so vile a holdj 
 where there is scarce any place even for a 
 tolerable garden, and where the water-mists, 
 as I am told, blight all the early blossoms 
 —I say, I cannot blame her for endeavour- 
 ing for her freedom j but why I should be 
 drawn into the scheme — why my harmless 
 arbours, that I planted v, ith my own hands, 
 should become places of privy conspiracy 
 — why my little quay, which I built for my 
 own fishing boat, should nave become a ha- 
 ven for secret embarkations — in short, why 
 13
 
 THE ABBOT. 59 
 
 I should be dragged into matters where 
 both heading and hanging are like to be 
 the issue, I profess to you, reverend father, 
 I am totally ignorant." 
 
 " My brother," answered the Abbot, 
 " you are wise, and ought to know" 
 
 " I am not — I am not — I am not wise," 
 replied the horticulturist, pettishly, and 
 stopping his ears with his fingers — " I was 
 never called wise, but when men wanted 
 to engage me in some action of notorious 
 folly." 
 
 " But, my good brother," said the Ab- 
 bot" 
 
 " I am not good neither," said the gar- 
 dener ; «* I am neither good nor wise — Had 
 I been wise, you would not have been ad- 
 mitted here j and were I good, methinks 1 
 Vv'ould send you elsewhere, to hatch plots 
 for destroying the quiet of the country. 
 AVhat signifies disputing about queen or 
 king, when men may sit at peace — suh um- 
 bra vitis sui; and so would I do, after the 
 precept of holy writ, were I, as you term
 
 60 THE ABBOT. 
 
 me, wise or good. But such as I am, my 
 neck is in the yoke, and you make me draw 
 what weight you list. — Follow me, young- 
 ster. This reverend father, who makes in his 
 jack-man's dress nearly as reverend a figure 
 as I myself, will agree with me in one thing 
 at least, and that is, that you have been 
 long enough here." 
 
 *' Follow the good father, Roland," said 
 the Abbot, " and remember my words — a 
 day is approaching that will try the temper 
 of all true Scotsmen — may thy heart prove 
 faithful as the steel of thy blade !" 
 
 The page bowed in silence, and they part- 
 ed ; the gardener, notwithstanding his ad- 
 vanced age, walking on before him very 
 briskly, and muttering as he went, partly to 
 himself, partly to his companion, after the 
 manner of old men of weakened intellects — 
 " When I was great," thus run his maun- 
 dering, *' and had my mule and my am- 
 bling palfrey at command, I warrant you 
 I could have as well flown through the 
 air as have walked at this pace. I had my
 
 THE ABBOT. 6l 
 
 gout and my rheumatics, and an hundred 
 things beside, that hung fetters on my 
 heels J and now, thanks to Our Lady, and 
 honest labour, I can walk with any good 
 man of my age in the kingdom of Fife — 
 Fie upon it, that experience should be so 
 long in coming." 
 
 As he was thus muttering, his eye fell 
 upon the branch of a pear tree, which droop- 
 ed down for want of support, and at once 
 forgetting his haste, the old man stopped 
 and set seriously about binding it up. Ro- 
 land Graeme had both readiness, neatness 
 of hand, and good nature in abundance ; 
 he immediately lent his aid, and in a mi- 
 nute or two the bough was supported, and 
 tied up in a way perfectly satisfactory to 
 the old man, who looked at it with great 
 complaisance. '* They are bargamots," he 
 said, " and if you will come ashore in 
 autumn, you shall taste of them — the like 
 are not in Lochleven Castle — the garden 
 there is a poor pin-fold, and the gardener, 
 Hugh Houkham, hath little skill of his
 
 62 THE ABBOT. 
 
 craft — so come ashore, Master Page, in au- 
 tumn, when you would eat pears. But what 
 am I thinking of — ere that time come, they 
 may have given thee sour pears for plums. 
 Take an old man's advice, youth, one who 
 hath seen many days, and sat in higher 
 places than thou canst hope for — bend thy 
 sword into a pruning-liook, and make a 
 dibble of thy dagger — thy days shall be the 
 longer, and thy health the better for it, and 
 come to aid me in my garden, and I will 
 teach thee the real French fashion of imji- 
 ing, which the Southron call graffing. Do 
 this, and do it without loss of time, for there 
 is a whirl v\ind coming over the land, and 
 only those shall escape who lie too much be- 
 neath the storm to have their boughs bro- 
 ken by it." 
 
 So saying, he dismissed Roland Gneme, 
 through a door different from that by which 
 he had entered, signed a cross, and pronoun- 
 ced a benedicite, as they parted, and then, 
 still muttering to himself, retired into the 
 garden, and locked the door on the inside.
 
 THE ABBOT. 63 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Pray God she prove not masculine ere long ! 
 
 King Henri/ VI, 
 
 Dismissed from the old man's garden, Ro- 
 land Graeme found that a grassy paddock, 
 in which sauntered two cows, the property 
 of the gardener, still separated him from 
 the village. He paced through it, lost in 
 meditation upon the words of the Abbot. 
 Father Ambrosius had, with success enough, 
 exerted over him that reverential influence 
 which the guardians and instructors of our 
 childhood possess over our more mature 
 youth. And yet, when Roland looked back 
 upon what the father had said, he could 
 not but suspect that he had rather sought 
 to evade entering into the controversy be-
 
 64 THE ABBOT. 
 
 twixt the churches, than to repel the ob- 
 jections and satisfy the doubts which the 
 lectures of Henderson had excited. " For 
 this he had no time," said the page to 
 himself, " neither have I now calmness and 
 learning sufficient to judge upon points 
 of such magnitude. Besides, it were base 
 to quit my faith while the wind of fortune 
 sets against it, unless I were so placed 
 that my conversion, should it take place, 
 were free as light from the imputation of 
 self interest. I was bred a Catholic — bred 
 in the faith of Bruce and Wallace — I will 
 hold that faith till time and reason shall 
 convince me that it errs. I will serve this 
 poor Queen as a subject should serve an im- 
 prisoned and wronged sovereign — they whc 
 placed me in her service have to blame them- 
 selves — they sent me hither, a gentleman 
 trained in the paths of loyalty and honour, 
 when they should have sought out some 
 truckling, cogging, double-dealing knave, 
 who would have been at once the observant 
 page of the Queen, and the obsequious spy
 
 THE ABBOT. 65 
 
 of her enemies. Since 1 must chuse be- 
 twixt aiding and betraying her, I will de- 
 cide as becomes her servant and her sub- 
 ject ; but Catherine Seyton — Catherine 
 Seyton, beloved by Douglas, and holding 
 me on or off as the intervals of her leisure 
 or caprice will permit — how shall I deal 
 with the coquette ? — By heaven, when I 
 next have an opportunity, she shall render 
 me some reason for her conduct, or I v;ili 
 break with her for ever." 
 
 As he formed this doughty resolution, he 
 crossed the stile which led out of the little 
 enclosure, and was almost immediately 
 greeted by Dr I.uke Lundin. 
 
 " Ha ! my most excellent young friend," 
 said the Doctor, " from whence come you ? 
 but I note the place. — Yes, neighbour 
 Blinkhoolie^s garden is a pleasant rendez- 
 vous, and you are of the age when lads look 
 after a bonny lass with one eye, and a dain- 
 ty plum with another. But hey ! you look 
 subtrist and melancholic — I fear the maiden 
 has proved cruel, or the plums unripe j and
 
 66 THE ABBOT. 
 
 surely,! think neighbour Blinkhoolie's dam- 
 sons can scarce have been well preserved 
 througliout the winter — he spares the sac- 
 charine juice on his confects. But courage, 
 man, there are more Kates in Kinross ; and 
 for the immature fruit, a glass of my double 
 distilled aqua mirahilis — lyrobatum est^' 
 
 The page darted an ireful glance at the 
 facetious physician ; but presently recollect- 
 ing that the name Kate, which had provo- 
 ked his displeasure, was probably but intro- 
 duced for the sake of alliteration, he sup- 
 pressed his wrath, and only asked if the 
 wains had been heard of? 
 
 <' Why, I have been seeking for you this 
 hour, to tell you that the stuff is in your 
 boat, and that the boat waits your [)]easure. 
 Auchtermuchty had only fallen into com- 
 pany with an idle knave like him.seir, and a 
 stoup of aquavitae between them. Your 
 boatmen lie on their oars, and there have 
 already been made two wefts from tiie war- 
 der's turret, to intimate that those in the 
 castle are impatient for your return. Yet
 
 THE ABBOT. 67 
 
 there is time for you to take a slight repast ; 
 and, as your friend and physician, I hold it 
 unfit you should face the water-breeze with 
 an empty stomach." 
 
 Roland Grseme had nothing for it but to 
 return, with such cheer as he might, to the 
 place where his boat was moored on the 
 beach, and resisted all offer of refreshment, 
 although the Doctor promised that he should 
 prelude the collation with a gentle appe- 
 tizer — a decoction of herbs, gathered and 
 distilled by himself. Indeed, as Roland had 
 not forgotten the contents of his morning 
 cup, it is possible that the recollection in- 
 duced him to stand firm in his refusal of all 
 food, to which such an unpalateable preface 
 was to be annexed. As they passed to- 
 wards the boat, (for the ceremonious polite- 
 ness of the worthy Chamberlain would not 
 permit the page to go thith er without attend- 
 ance,) Roland Graeme, amidst a group who 
 seemed to be assembled around a party of 
 wandering musicians, distinguished, as he
 
 68 THE ABBOT. 
 
 thought, the dress of Catherine Seyton. He 
 shook himself clear from his attendant, and 
 at one spring was in the midst of the crowd, 
 and at the side of the damsel, " Cathe- 
 rine," he whispered, *« is it well for you to 
 be still here ? — will you not return to the 
 castle ?" 
 
 *' To the devil with your Catherines and 
 your castles !" answered the maiden, snap- 
 pishly ; " have you not had time enough al- 
 ready to get rid of your follies ? Begone ! I 
 desire not your farther company, and there 
 will be danger in thrustins; it unon ms." 
 
 " Nay — but if there be danger, fairest 
 Catherine," replied Roland, " why v/jll you 
 not allow me to stay and share it with you ?" 
 " Intruding tool," said the maiden, " the 
 danger is all on thine own side — the risk 
 is, in plain terms, that I strike thee on the 
 mouth with the hilt of my dagger." So say- 
 ing, she turned haughtily from him, and 
 moved through the crowd, who gave way 
 in some astonishment at the masculine ac-
 
 THE ABBOT. 69 
 
 tivity with which she forced her way among 
 them. 
 
 As Roland, though much irritated, pre- 
 pared to follow, he was grappled on the 
 other side by Doctor Luke Lundin, who 
 reminded him of the loaded boat, of the two 
 wefts, or signals with the flag, which had 
 been made from the tower, of the danger of 
 the cold breeze to an empty stomach, and 
 of the vanity of spending more time upon 
 coy wenches and sour plums. Roland was 
 thus, in a manner, dragged back to his 
 boat, and obliged to launch her forth upon 
 his return to Lochleven Castle. 
 
 That little voyage was speedily accom- 
 plished, and the page was greeted at the 
 landing-place by the severe and caustic wel- 
 come of old Dryfesdale. " So, young gal- 
 lant, you are come at last, after a delay of 
 six hours, and after two signals from the 
 castle. But, I warrant, some idle junketting 
 had occupied you too deeply to think of 
 your service or your duty. Where is the 
 note of the plate and household stuff? — 
 2
 
 70 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Pray Heaven it hath not been diminished 
 under the sleeveless care of so young a gad- 
 about." 
 
 *♦ Diminished under my care, Sir Stew- 
 ard ?" retorted the page angrily ; " say so 
 in earnest, and by heaven your grey hair 
 shall hardly protect your saucy tongue !" 
 
 " A truce with your swaggering, young 
 Esquire," returned the steward ; " we have 
 bolts and dungeons for brawlers. Go to my 
 lady, and swagger before her, if thou da- 
 rest — she will give thee proper cause of 
 offence, for she has waited thee long and 
 impatiently." 
 
 " And where then is the Lady of Loch- 
 ieven r" said the page ; " for I conceive it 
 is of her thou speakest." 
 
 " Ay — of whom else ?' replied Dryfes- 
 dale J " or who besides the Lady of Loch- 
 leven hath a right to command in this cas- 
 tle ?" 
 
 " The Lady of Lochleven is thy mis- 
 tress," said Roland Graeme } " but mine is 
 the Queen of Scotland."
 
 THE ABBOT. 71 
 
 The steward looked at him fixedly for a 
 moment, with an air in whicii suspicion and 
 disHke were ill concealed by an affectation 
 of contempt. " The bragging cock-chick- 
 en," he said, '* will betray himself by his rath 
 crowing. I have marked thy changed man- 
 ner in the chapel of late — ay, and your 
 changing of glances at meal-time with a 
 certain idle damsel, who, like thyself, laughs 
 at all gravity and goodness. There is some- 
 thing about you, my master, which should 
 be looked to. But, if you would know 
 whether the Lady of Lochleven or thatother 
 lady hath right to command thy service, 
 thou wilt find them together in the Lady 
 Mary's anti-room." 
 
 Roland hastened thither, not unwilling to 
 escape from the iil-natured penetration of 
 the old man, and marvelling at the same time 
 what peculiarity could have occasioned the 
 Lady of Loctileven's being in the Queen's 
 apartment at this time of the afternoon, so 
 much contrary to her usual wont. His
 
 72 THE ABBOT. 
 
 acuteness instantly penetrated the meaning, 
 ** She wishes," he concluded, " to see the 
 meeting betwixt the Queen and me on m) 
 return, that she may form a guess whethei 
 there is any private intelligence or under- 
 standing betwixt us — I must be guarded." 
 
 With this resolution he entered the par- 
 lour, where the Queen, seated in her chair 
 with the Lady Fleming leaning upon th( 
 back of it, had already kept the Lady o; 
 Lochleven standing in her presence for tht 
 space of nearly an hour, to the manifest in 
 crease of her very visible bad humour. Ro 
 land Graeme, on entering the apartment 
 made a deep obeisance to the Queen and an 
 other to the Lady, and then stood still as if tc 
 await their furtlier question. Speaking al 
 most together, the Lady Lochleven said, 
 ** So, young man, you are returned ai 
 length ?" 
 
 And then stopped indignantly short 
 while the Queen went on without regard- 
 ing her — *♦ Roland, you are welcome home
 
 THE ABBOT. 73 
 
 to US — you have proved the true dove and 
 not the raven — Yet I am sure I could ha\ e 
 forgiven you, if, once dismissed from this 
 water, circled ark of ours, you had never 
 again returned to us. I trust you have 
 brought back an olive branch, for our kind 
 and worthy hostess has chafed herself much 
 on account of your long absence, and we 
 never needed more some symbol of peace 
 and reconciliation." 
 
 " I grieve I should have been detained, 
 madam," answered the page ; " but from the 
 delay of the person entrusted with the mat- 
 ters for which I was sent, I did not receive 
 them till late in the day." 
 
 *' See you there now," said the Qaeen 
 to the Lady Lochleven ; ** we could not 
 persuade you, our dearest hostess, that your 
 household goods were in all safe-keeping 
 and surety. True it is, that we can excuse 
 your anxiety, considering that these august 
 apartments are so scantily furnished, that 
 we have not been able to offer you even the 
 
 VOL, III. D
 
 74 THE ABBOT. 
 
 relief of a stool during the long time you 
 have afforded us the pleasure of your so- 
 ciety." 
 
 •* The will, madam," said the lady, 
 " the will to offer such accommodation was 
 more wanting than the means." 
 
 *' What !" said the Queen, looking round 
 and affecting surprise, *♦ there are then 
 stools in this apartment — one, two — no less 
 than four, including the broken one— ^ royal 
 garniture ! — We observed them not — will it 
 please your ladyship to sit ?" 
 
 " No, madam, I will soon relieve you of 
 ray presence," replied the Lady Lochleven ; 
 '* and, while with you, my aged limbs can 
 still better brook fiatigue, than my mind 
 stoop to accept of constrained courtesy." 
 
 ** Nay, Lady of Lochleven, if you take 
 it so deeply," said the Queen, rising and 
 motioning to her own vacant chair, *' I 
 would rather you assumed my seat — you 
 are not the first of your family who has done 
 so."
 
 THE ABBOT« 75 
 
 The Lady of Lochleven courtsied a ne- 
 gative» but seemed with much difficulty to 
 suppress the angry answer which rose to her 
 lips. 
 
 During this sharp conversation, the page's 
 attention had been almost entirely occu- 
 pied by the entrance of Catherine Seyton, 
 who came from the inner apartment, in the 
 usual dress in which she attended upon the 
 Queen, and with nothing in her manner 
 which marked either the hurry or confusion 
 incident to a hasty change of disguise, or 
 the conscious fear of detection in a perilous 
 enterprize. Roland Graeme ventured to 
 make her an obeisance as she entered, but 
 she returned it with an air of the utmost in- 
 difference, which, in his opinion, was ex- 
 tremely inconsistent with the circumstan- 
 ces in which they stood towards each other. 
 — Surely, he thought, she cannot in rea- 
 son expect to bully me out of the belief 
 due to mine own eyes, as she tried to do 
 concerning the apparition in the hostelry of 
 Saint Michael's — I will try if 1 cannot make
 
 7b THE ABBOT. 
 
 her feel that this will be but a vain task, 
 and that confidence in me is the wiser and 
 safer course to pursue. 
 
 Thesethoughts had passed rapidly through 
 his mind, when the Queen, having finished 
 her altercation with the Lady of the Castle, 
 again addressed him — " What of the revels 
 at Kinross, Roland Graeme ? Methought 
 they were gay, if I may judge from some 
 taint sounds of mirth and distant music, 
 which found their way so far as these grated 
 windows, and died when they entered them, 
 as all that is mirthful must — But thou look- 
 e3t as sad as if thou hadst come from a con- 
 venticle of the Huguenots !" 
 
 *' And so perchance he hath, madam," 
 repKed the Lady of Lochleven, at whom 
 this side-shaft was launched. *• 1 trust, amid 
 yonder idle fooleries, there wanted not some 
 pouring forth of doctrine to a better pur- 
 pose than that vain mirth, which, blazing 
 and vanishing like the crackling of dry 
 thorns, leaves to the fools who love it no- 
 thing but dust and ashes."
 
 THE ABBOT. 77 
 
 " Mary Fleming," said the Queen, turn- 
 ing round and drawing her mantle around 
 her, " I would that we had the chimney- 
 grate supphed with a faggot or two of thes3 
 same thorns, which the Lady of Lochleveu 
 describes so well. Methinks the damp air 
 from the lake, which stagnates in these 
 vaulted rooms, renders them deadly cold." 
 
 " Your Grace's pleasure shall be obeyed. ' 
 said the Lady of Lochleven ; " yet may I 
 presume to remind you that we are now in 
 summer ?" 
 
 " I thank you for the information, my 
 good lady," said the Queen ; •* for prisoners 
 better learn their calendar from the mouth 
 of their jailor, than from any change they 
 themselves feel in the seasons. — Once more, 
 Roland Graeme, what of the revels?" 
 
 '* They were gay, madam," said the page, 
 <' but of the usual sort, and little worth your 
 Highness's ear." 
 
 " O, you know not," said the Queen, 
 " how very indulgent my ear has become
 
 78 THE ABBOT. 
 
 to all that speaks of freedom and the piea- 
 iures of the free. Methinks I would rather 
 have seen the gay villagers dance their 
 ring round the May-pole, than have wit- 
 nessed the most stately masques within the 
 walls of a palace. The absence of stone- 
 walls — the sense that the green turf is un- 
 der the foot which may tread it free and 
 unrestrained, is worth all that art or splen- 
 dour can add to more courtly revels." 
 
 ♦* I trust," said the Lady Lochleven, ad- 
 dressing the page in her turn, " there were 
 amongst these follies none of the riots or 
 disturbances to which they so naturally 
 lead ?" 
 
 Roland gave a slight glance to Catherine 
 Seyton, as if to bespeak her attention as he 
 replied, — *♦ I witnessed no offence, madam, 
 worthy of marking — none indeed of any 
 kind, save that a bold damsel made her hand 
 somewhat too familiar with the cheek of a 
 player-man, and ran some hazard of being 
 ducked in the lake."
 
 THE ABBOT. 79 
 
 As he uttered these words he cast a hasty 
 glance at Catherine ; but she sustained, with 
 the utmost serenity of manner and counte- 
 nance, the hint which he had deemed could 
 not have been thrown out before her with- 
 out exciting some fear and confusion. 
 
 *' I will cumber your Grace no longer 
 with my presence," said the Lady Lochle- 
 ven, " unless you have aught to command 
 me." 
 
 " Nought, our good hostess," answered 
 the Queen, " unless it be to pray you, that 
 on another occasion you deem it not need- 
 ful to postpone your better employment to 
 wait so long upon us." 
 
 ** May it please you," added the Lady 
 Lochleven, ** to command this your gentle- 
 man to attend us, that I may receive some 
 account of these matters which have been 
 sent hither for your Grace's use." 
 
 " We may not refuse what you are pleased 
 to require, madam," answered the Queen. 
 " Go with the lady, Roland, if our com-
 
 80 THE ABBOT. 
 
 mands be indeed necessary to thy doing so. 
 We will hear to-morrow the history of thy 
 Kinross pleasures. For this night we dis- 
 miss thy attendance." 
 
 Roland Grgerae went with the Lady of 
 Lochleven, who failed not to ask him many 
 questions concerning what had passed at 
 the sports, to which he rendered such an- 
 swers as were most likely to lull asleep any 
 suspicions which she might entertain of his 
 disposition to favour Queen Mary, taking 
 especial care to avoid all allusion to the ap- 
 parition of Magdalen Gra3me, and of the 
 Abbot Ambrosius. At length, after un- 
 dergoing a long and somewhat close ex- 
 amination, he was dismissed with such ex- 
 pressions, as, coming from the reserved and 
 stern Lady of Lochleven, might seem to 
 express a degree of favour and countenance. 
 
 His first care was to obtain some refresh- 
 ment, which was more cheerfully afforded 
 him by a good-natured pantler than by 
 Dryfesdale, who was, on this occasion, much
 
 THE ABBOT. 81 
 
 disposed to abide by the fashion of Pud- 
 ding-burn House, where 
 
 They who came not the first call, 
 Gat no more meat till the next meal. 
 
 When Roland Graeme had finished his 
 repast, having his dismissal from the Queen 
 for the evening, and being little inclined 
 for such society as the Castle afforded, he 
 stole into the garden, in which he had per- 
 mission to spend his leisure time, when it 
 pleased him. In this place, the ingenuity 
 of the contriver and disposer of the walks 
 had exerted itself to make the most of little 
 space, and by screens, both of stone orna- 
 mented with rude sculpture, and hedges of 
 living green, had endeavoured to give as 
 much intricacy and variety as the confined 
 limits of the garden would admit. 
 
 Here the young man walked sadly, con- 
 sidering the events of the day, and compa- 
 ring what had dropped from the Abbot 
 with what he had himself noticed of the 
 demeanour of George Douglas. It must 
 be so, was the painful but inevitable con- 
 D 2
 
 82 THE ABBOT. 
 
 elusion at which he arrived. It must be 
 by his aid that she is thus enabled, like a 
 phantom, to transport herself from place 
 to place, and to appear at pleasure on the 
 mainland or on the islet. It must be so, 
 he repeated once more j with him she 
 holds a close, secret, and intimate corre- 
 spondence, altogether inconsistent with the 
 eye of favour which she has sometimes 
 cast upon me, and destructive to the hopes 
 which she must have known these glances 
 have necessarily inspired. And yet, (for 
 love will hope where reason despairs,) the 
 thought rushed on his mind, that it was pos- 
 sible she only encouraged Douglas's passion 
 so far as might serve her mistress's interest, 
 and that she was of too frank, noble, and 
 candid a nature to hold out to himself hopes 
 which she meant not to fulfil. Lost in these 
 various conjectures, he seated himself upon 
 a bank of turf, which commanded a view 
 of the lake on the one side, and on the other 
 of that front of the castle alongst which the 
 Queen's apartments were situated.
 
 THE ABBOT. 83 
 
 The sun had now for some time set, and 
 the twilight of May was rapidly fading into 
 a serene "night. On the lake, the expanded 
 water rose and fell, with the slightest and 
 softest influence of a southern breeze, which 
 scarcely dimpled the surface over which it 
 passed. In the distance was still seen the 
 dim outline of the island of Saint Serf, once 
 visited by many a sandalled pilgrim, as the 
 blessed spot trodden by a man of God — 
 now neglected, or violated, as the refuge of 
 lazy priests, who had with justice been com- 
 pelled to give place to the sheep and the 
 heifers of a protestant baron. 
 
 As Roland gazed on the dark speck, 
 amid the lighter blue of the waters which 
 surrounded it, the mazes of polemical discus- 
 sion again stretched themselves before the 
 eye of his mind. Had these men justly suf- 
 fered their exile as licentious drones, the 
 robbers, at once, and disgrace of the busy 
 hive J or, had the hand of avarice and ra- 
 pine expelled from the temple, not the ri-
 
 84 THE ABBOT. 
 
 balds who polluted, but the faithful priests 
 who served the shrine in honour and fideli- 
 ty ? The arguments of Henderson*, in this 
 contemplative hour, rose with double force 
 before him, and could scarce be parried by 
 the appeal which the Abbot Ambrosius 
 had made from his understanding to his 
 feelings, — an appeal which he had felt more 
 forcibly amid the bustle of stirring life, 
 than it now seemed to his more undisturb- 
 ed reflection. It required an effort to 
 divert his mind from this embarrassing to- 
 pic ; and he found that he best succeed- 
 ed by turning his eyes to the front of the 
 tower, watching where a twinkling light 
 still streamed from the casement of Cathe- 
 rine Seyton's apartment, obscured by times 
 lor a moment, as the shadow of the fair 
 inhabitant passed betwixt the taper and 
 the window. At length the light was re 
 moved or extinguished, and that object of 
 speculation was also withdrawn from the 
 eyes of the meditativQ lover. Dare I con-
 
 THE ABBOT. 85 
 
 fessthe fact, without injuring his character 
 for ever as a hero of romance ? These eyes 
 gradually became heavy, speculative doubts 
 on the subject of religious controversy, and 
 anxious conjectures concerning the state of 
 his mistress's affections, became confusedly 
 blended together in his musings ; the fatigues 
 of a busy day prevailed over the harassing 
 subjects of contemplation which occupied 
 his mind, and he fell fast asleep. 
 
 Sound were his slumbers, until they were 
 suddenly dispelled by the iron tongue of the 
 castle bell, which sent its deep and sullen 
 sounds wide over the bosom of the lake, and 
 awakened the echoes of Bennarty, the hill 
 which descends steeply on its southern bank. 
 Roland started up, for this bell was always 
 tolled at ten o'clock, as the signal for lock- 
 ing the castle gates, and placing the keys 
 under the charge of the seneschal. He there- 
 fore hastened to the wicket, by which the 
 garden communicated with the building, 
 and had the mortification, just as he reach-
 
 86 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ed it, to hear the bolt leave its sheath with 
 a discordant crash, and enter the stone 
 groove of the door-lintel. 
 
 *' Hold, hold," cried the page, " and let 
 me in ere you lock the wicket." 
 
 The voice of Dryfesdale replied from 
 within, in his usual tone of embittered sul- 
 lenness — '* The hour is passed, fair master 
 — you like not the inside of these walls — 
 even make it a complete holiday, and pass 
 the night as well as the day out of bounds." 
 
 ** Open the door," exclaimed the indig- 
 nant page, " or by Saint Giles I will make 
 thy gold chain smoke for it !" 
 
 " Make no alarm here," retorted the im- 
 penetrable Dryfesdale, " but keep thy sin- 
 ful oaths and silly threats for those that re- 
 gard them — I do mine office, and carry the 
 keys to the seneschal. — Adieu, my young 
 master j the cool night air will advantage 
 your hot blood." 
 
 The steward was right in what he said ; 
 tor the cooling breeze was very necessary 
 to appease the feverish fit of anger which
 
 THE ABBOT. 87 
 
 Roland experienced, nor did the remedy 
 succeed for some time. At length, after 
 some hasty turns made through the garden, 
 exhausting his passion in vain vows of ven- 
 geance, Roland Graeme began to be sensi- 
 ble that his situation ought rather to be 
 held as matter of laughter, than of serious 
 resentment. To one bred a sportsman, a 
 night spent in the open air had in it little 
 of hardship, and the poor malice of the 
 steward seemed more worthy of his con- 
 tempt than his anger. I would to God, he 
 said, that the grim old man may always have 
 contented himself with such sportive re- 
 venge. He often looks as he were capable 
 of doing us a darker turn. Returning, there- 
 fore, to the turf-seat which he had formerly 
 occupied, and which was partially sheltered 
 by a trim fence of green holly, he drew his 
 mantle around him, stretched himself at 
 length on the verdant settle, and endea- 
 voured to resume that sleep which the cas- 
 tle-bell had interrupted to so little purpose. 
 Sleep, like other earthly blessings, is nig-
 
 88 THE ABBOT. 
 
 gard of its favours when most courted. The 
 more Roland invoked her aid the further 
 she fled from his eye-lids. He had been 
 completely awakened, first by the sounds of 
 the bell, and then by his own aroused vi- 
 vacity of temper, and he found it difficult 
 again to compose himself to slumber. At 
 length, when his mind was wearied out with 
 a maze of unpleasing meditation, he suc- 
 ceeded in coaxing himself into a broken 
 slumber. This was again dispelled by the 
 voices of two persons who were walking 
 in the garden, the sound of whose conver- 
 sation, after mingling for some time in 
 the page's dreams, at length succeeded 
 in awaking him thoroughly. He raised 
 himself from his reclining posture in the 
 utmost astonishment, which the circum- 
 stance of hearing two persons at that late 
 hour conversing on the outside of the 
 watchfully guarded Castle of Lochleven, 
 was so well calculated to excite. His first 
 thought was upon supernatural beings ; his 
 next, upon some attempt on the part of
 
 THE ABBOT. 89 
 
 Queen Mary's friends and followers j his last 
 was, that George of Douglas, possessed of 
 the keys, and having the means of ingress 
 and egress at pleasure, was availing himself 
 of his office to hold a rendezvous with Ca- 
 therine Seyton in the castle garden. He 
 was confirmed in this opinion by the tone 
 of the voice, which asked in a low whisper^ 
 whether all was ready.
 
 90 THE ABBOT. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In some breasts passion lies conceal'd and silent, 
 Like war's swart powder in a castle-vault, 
 Until occasion, like the linstock, lights it : 
 Then comes at once the lightning and the thunder. 
 And distant echoes tell that all is rent asunder. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 Roland Gb-muil, availing himself of a 
 breach in the holly screen, and of the as- 
 sistance of the full moon, which was now 
 arisen, had a perfect opportunity, himself 
 unobserved, to reconnoitre the persons and 
 the motions of those by whom his rest had 
 been thus unexpectedly disturbed, and his 
 observations confirmed his jealous appre- 
 hensions. They stood together in close and 
 earnest conversation within four yards of 
 the place of his retreat, and he could easily 
 recognize the tall form and deep voice of
 
 THE ABBOT. 91 
 
 Douglas, and the no less remarkable dress 
 and tone of the page at the hostelry of Saint 
 Michael's. 
 
 *' I have been at the door of the page's 
 apartment," said Douglas, " but he is not 
 there, or he will not answer. It is fast bolt- 
 ed on the inside, as is the custom, and we 
 cannot pass through it — and what his silence 
 may bode I know not." 
 
 ** You have trusted him too far," said the 
 other ; ** a feather-headed coxcomb, upon 
 whose changeable mind and hot brain there 
 is no making an abiding impression." 
 
 " It was not I who was willing to trust 
 him," said Douglas j '* but I was assured he 
 would prove friendly when called upon — 
 
 for" Here he spoke so low that Roland 
 
 lost the tenor of his words, which was the 
 more provoking, as he was fully aware 
 that he was himself the subject of their 
 conversation, 
 
 " Nay," replied the stranger, more aloud, 
 *' I have on my side put him off with fail
 
 92 THE ABBOT. 
 
 words, which make fools fain — but now, if 
 you distrust him at the push, deal with him 
 with your dagger, and so make open pas- 
 sage." 
 
 " That were too rash," said Douglas ; 
 " and, besides, as I told you, the door of his 
 apartment is shut and bolted. I will essay 
 again to waken him." 
 
 Gramme instantly comprehended, that the 
 ladies having been somehow made aware of 
 his being in the garden, had secured the 
 door of the outer room in which he usually 
 slept, as a sort of centinel upon that only 
 access to the Queen's apartments. But then 
 how came Catherine Seyton to be abroad, if 
 the Queen and the other lady were still 
 within their chambers, and the access to 
 them locked and bolted ? — ** I will be in- 
 stantly at the bottom of these mysteries,'' 
 he said, *♦ and then thank Mrs Catherine, if 
 this be really she, for the kind use which 
 she exhorted Douglas to make of his dagger 
 ^— they seek me, as I comprehend, and they 
 shall not seek me in vain."
 
 THE ABBOT. 93 
 
 Douglas had by this time re-entered the 
 castle by the wicket, which was now open. 
 The stranger stood alone in the garden walk, 
 his arms folded on his breast, and his eyes 
 cast impatiently up to the moon, as if accu- 
 sing her of betraying him by the magniti- 
 cence of her lustre. In a moment Roland 
 Grreme stood before him — " A goodly 
 night," he said, '* Mrs Catherine, for a 
 young lady to stray forth in disguise, and 
 to meet with men in an orchard." 
 
 *♦ Hush !" said the stranger page, " hushj 
 thou foolish patch, and tell us in a word 
 if thou art friend or foe." 
 
 " How should I be friend to one who 
 deceives me by fair words, and who would 
 have Douglas deal with me with his po- 
 niard ?" replied Roland. 
 
 «' The fiend receive George of Douglas 
 and thee too, thou born mad- cap and sworn 
 marplot," said the other ; " we shall be dis- 
 covered, and then death is the word." 
 
 " Catherine," said the page, *' you have 
 dealt falsely and cruelly with me, and the 
 8
 
 94 THE ABBOT. 
 
 moment of explanation is now come — nei- 
 ther it nor you shall escape me." 
 
 " Madman 1" said the stranger, *• I am 
 neither Kate nor Catherine — the moon 
 shines bright enough surely to know the 
 hart from the hind." 
 
 " That shift shall not serve you, fair mis- 
 tress," said the page, laying hold on the lap 
 of the stranger's cloak ; " this time, at least, 
 I will know with whom I deal." 
 
 *' Unhand me," said she, endeavouring 
 to extricate herself fi-om his grap, and in a 
 tone where anger seemed to contend with 
 a desire to laugh ; ♦* use you so little discre- 
 tion towards a daughter of Seyton ?" 
 
 But as Roland, encouraged perhaps by 
 her risibility to suppose his violence was 
 not unpardonably offensive, kept hold on 
 her mantle, she said, in a sterner tone of 
 unmixed resentment, — " Madman, let me 
 go ! — there is life and death in this moment 
 — I would not willingly hurt thee, and yet, 
 beware !" 
 
 As she spoke she made a sudden effort
 
 THE ABBOT. 95 
 
 to escape, and in doing so, a pistol, which 
 she carried in her hand or about her person, 
 went off. 
 
 This warHke sound instantly awakened 
 the well-warded castle. The warder blew 
 his horn, and began to toll the castle-bell, 
 crying out at the same time, " Fie, treason ! 
 treason ! cry all ! cry all 1" 
 
 The apparition of Catherine Seyton, 
 which the page had let loose in the first 
 moment of astonishment, vanished in dark- 
 ness, but the plash of oars was heard, and 
 in a second or two, five or six harquebusses 
 and a falconet were fired from the battle- 
 ments of the castle successively, as if level- 
 led at some object on the water. Confound- 
 ed with these incidents, no way for Cathe- 
 rine's protection (supposing her to be in 
 the boat which he had heard put from the 
 shore) occurred to Roland, save to have 
 recourse to George of Douglas. He has- 
 tened for this purpose towards the apart- 
 ment of the Queen, whence he heard loud 
 
 voices and much trampling of feet. When 
 12
 
 96 THE ABBOT. 
 
 he entered, he found himself added to a 
 confused and astonished group, which, as- 
 sembled in that apartment, stood gazing 
 upon each other. At the upper end of the 
 room stood the Queen, equipped as for a 
 journey, and attended not only by the Lady 
 Fleming, but by the omnipresent Catherine 
 Seyton, dressed in the habit of her own sex, 
 and bearing in her hand the casket in which 
 Mary kept such jewels as she had been per- 
 mitted to retain. At the other end of the 
 hall was the Lady of Lochleven, hastily 
 dressed, as one startled from slumber by the 
 sudden alarm, and surrounded by domestics, 
 some bearing torches, others holding naked 
 swords, partizans, pistols, or such other 
 weapons as they had caught up in the hurry 
 of a night alarm. Betwixt these two parties 
 stood George of Douglas, his arms folded 
 on his breast, his eyes bent on the ground, 
 like a criminal who knows not how to de- 
 ny, yet continues unwilling to avow, the 
 guilt in which he has been detected.
 
 THE ABBOT. 97 
 
 *' Speak, George of Douglas," said the 
 Lady of Lochleven j " speak, and clear the 
 horrid suspicion which rests on thy name. 
 Say * a Douglas was never faithless to his 
 trust, and I am a Douglas.' Say this, my 
 dearest son, and it is all I ask thee to say 
 to clear thy name, even under such a foul 
 charge. Say it was but the wile of these 
 unhappy women, and this false boy, which 
 plotted an escape so fatal to Scotland — so 
 destructive to thy father's house." 
 
 " Madam," said old Dryfesdale the stew- 
 ard, *' this much do I say for this silly page, 
 that he could not be accessary to unlock- 
 ing the doors, since I myself this night bolt- 
 ed him out of the castle. Whoever limned 
 this night-piece, the lad's share in it seems 
 to have been small." 
 
 " Thou liest, Dryfesdale," said the lady, 
 " and wouldst throw the blame on thy mas- 
 ter's house, to save the worthless life of a 
 gipsey boy." 
 
 " His death w'ere more desirable to me 
 
 VOL. III. E
 
 98 THE ABBOT. 
 
 than his life," answered the steward, sullen- 
 ly ; *' but the truth is the truth" 
 
 At these words Douglas raised his head, 
 drew up his figure to its full height, and 
 spoke boldly and sedately, as one whose re- 
 solution was taken. *« Let no life be en- 
 dangered for me. I alone" 
 
 " Douglas," said the Queen, interrupt- 
 ing him, " art thou mad ? Speak not, I 
 charge you." 
 
 •' Madam," he replied, bowing with the 
 deepest respect, " gladly would I obey your 
 commands, but they must have a victim, 
 and let it be the true one.—Yes, madam," he 
 continued, addressing the Lady of Loch- 
 leven, " I alone am guilty in this matter. If 
 the word of a Douglas has yet any weight 
 with you, believe me that this boy is inno- 
 cent ; and, on your conscience, I charge you 
 do him no wrong ; nor let the Queen suffer 
 hardship for embracing the opportunity of 
 freedom which sincere loyalty — which a 
 sentiment yet deeper — offered to her ac- 
 ceptance. Yes! I had planned the escape 
 11
 
 THE ABBOT. 90 
 
 of the most beautiful, the most persecuted 
 of women ; and far from regretting that I, 
 for a while, deceived the malice of her ene- 
 mies, I glory in it, and am most willing to 
 yield up life itself in her cause." 
 
 ** Now, may God have comfort on my 
 age," said the Lady of Lochleven, " and 
 enable me to bear this load of affliction ! O 
 Princess, born in a luckless hour, when will 
 you cease to be the instrument of seduc- 
 tion and of ruin to all who approach you ! 
 O ancient house of Lochleven, f^raed so 
 long for birth and honour, evil was the hour 
 brought the deceiver under thy roof !" 
 
 *' Say not so, madam," replied her grand- 
 son ; " the old honours of the Douglas line 
 will be outshone, when one of its descend- 
 ants dies for the most injured of queens — 
 for the most lovely of women." 
 
 " Douglas," said the Queen, " must I at 
 this moment — ay, even at this moment, 
 when I may lose a faithful subject for ever, 
 chide thee for forgetting what is due to me 
 as thy Queen ?"
 
 lOO THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Wretched boy," said the distracted 
 Lady of Lochleven, •* hast thou fallen even 
 thus far into the snare of this Moabitish 
 woman ? — hast thou bartered thy name, thy 
 allegiance, thy knightly oath, thy duty to 
 thy parents, thy country, and thy God, for 
 a feigned tear, or a sickly smile, firom lips 
 which flattered the infirm Francis — lured to 
 death the idiot Darnley — read luscious poe- 
 try with the minion Chastelet — mingled in 
 the lays of love which were sung by the 
 beggar Kizzio — and which were joined in 
 rapture to those of the foul and licentious 
 Both well?" 
 
 "Blaspheme not, madam !" said Douglas ; 
 — "nor you, fair Queen, and virtuous as fair, 
 chide at this moment the presumption of 
 thy vassal ! — Think not that tiie mere devo- 
 tion of a subject could have moved me to 
 the part I have been performing. Well you 
 deserve that each of your lieges should die 
 for you ; but 1 have done more — have done 
 that to which love alone could compel a 
 Douglas— 1 have dissembled. Farewell, then,
 
 THE ABBOT. 101 
 
 Qaeen of all hearts, and Empress of that of 
 Douglas ! — When you are freed from this 
 vile bondage— as freed you shall be, if justice 
 remains in Heaven — and when you load 
 with honours and titles the happy man who 
 shall deliver you, cast one thought on him 
 whose heart would have despised every re- 
 ward for a kiss of your hand — cast one 
 thought on his fidelity, and drop one tear 
 on his grave." And throwing himself at her 
 feet, he seized her hand, and pressed it to 
 his lips. 
 
 " This before my face !" said the Lady of 
 Lochleven— "wilt thou court thy adulterous 
 paramour before the eyes of a parent?— Tear 
 them asunder, and put him under strict 
 ward ! Seize him, upon your lives !" she add- 
 ed, seeing that her attendants looked on 
 each other with hesitation. 
 
 " They are doubtful," said Mary. *• Save 
 thyself, Douglas, I command thee !" 
 
 He started up from the floor, and only 
 exclaiming, " My life or death are yours,
 
 102 THE ABBOT. 
 
 and at your disposal !" — drew his sword, 
 and broke through those who stood betwixt 
 him and the door. The enthusiasm of his 
 onset was too sudden and too lively to have 
 been opposed by any tiling short of the 
 most decided opposition ; and as he was 
 both loved and feared by his father's vassals, 
 none of them would oiFer him actual injury. 
 
 The Lady of Lochleven stood astonished 
 at his sudden escape — *' Am I surrounded," 
 she said, " by traitors ? Upon him, villains! 
 — pursue, stab, cut him down i" 
 
 " He cannot leave the island, madam," 
 said Dryfesdale, interfering ; <' I have the 
 key of the boat-chain." 
 
 But two or three voices of those who 
 pursued from curiosity, or command of their 
 mistress, exclaimed from below, that he had 
 cast himself into the lake. 
 
 " Brave Douglas still !" exclaimed the 
 Queen — ♦' O, true and noble heart, that 
 prefers death to imprisonment !" 
 
 " Fire upon him !" said tb.c Lady of Loch-
 
 THE ABBOT. 103 
 
 ieven ; " if there be here a true servant ot 
 his father, let him shoot the runagate dead, 
 and let the lake cover our shame !" 
 
 The report of a gun or two were heard, 
 but they were probably shot rather to obey 
 the Lady, than with any purpose of hitting 
 the mark ; and Randal immediately en- 
 tering, said, that Master George had been 
 taken up by a boat from the castle, which 
 lay at a little distance. 
 
 " Man a barge, and pursue them !" said 
 the lady. 
 
 '♦ It were quite vain," said Randal ; "by 
 this time they are half way to shore, and a 
 cloud has come over the moon." 
 
 '* And has the traitor then escaped ?" 
 said the lady, pressing her hands against 
 her forehead with a gesture of despair ; 
 " the honour of our house is for ever gone, 
 and all will be deemed accomplices in this 
 base treachery." 
 
 ♦' Lady of Lochleven," said Mary, advan- 
 cing towards her, " you have this night cut 
 off my fairest hopes — You have turned my
 
 104 THE ABBOT. 
 
 expected freedom into bondage, and dash- 
 ed away the cup of joy in the very instant 
 I was advancing it to my lips — and yet I 
 feel for your sorrow the pity that you de- 
 ny to mine — Gladly would I comfort you 
 if I might ; but as I may not, I would at 
 least part from you in charity." 
 
 " Away, proud woman I" said the lady j 
 " who ever knew so well as thou to deal 
 the deepest wounds under the pretence of 
 kindness and courtesy ? — Who, since the 
 great traitor, could ever so betray with a 
 kiss ?" 
 
 " Lady Douglas of Lochleven," said the 
 Queen, " in this moment thou canst not 
 offend me — no, not even by thy coarse 
 and unwomanly language, held to me in 
 the presence of menials and armed retain- 
 ers. I have this night owed so much to 
 one member of the house of Lochleven, as 
 to cancel whatever its mistress can do or 
 say in the wildness of her passion." 
 
 " We are bounden to you, Princess," said 
 Lady Lochleven, putting a strong constraint
 
 THE ABBOT. 105 
 
 on herself, and passing from her tone of vio- 
 lence to that of bitter irony ; "our poorhouse 
 hath been but seldom graced with royal 
 smiles, and will hardly, with my choice, ex- 
 change their rough honesty for such court- 
 honour as Mary of Scotland has now to 
 bestow." 
 
 '* They," replied Mary, " who knew so 
 well how to take, may think themselves ex- 
 cused from the obligation implied in recei- 
 ving. And that I have now little to offer, is 
 the fault of the Douglasses and their allies." 
 
 " Fear nothing, madam," replied the La- 
 dy of Lochleven, in the same bitter tone, 
 ** you retain an exchequer which neither 
 your own prodigality can drain, nor your 
 offended country deprive you of. While you 
 have fair words and delusive smiles at com- 
 mand, you need no other bribes to lure 
 youth to folly." 
 
 The Queen cast a not ungratified glance 
 
 on a large mirror, which, hanging on one 
 
 side of the apartment, and illuminated by 
 
 the torch-light, reflected her beautiful face 
 
 E 2
 
 106 THE ABBOT. 
 
 and person. •' Our hostess grows complai- 
 sant," she said, " my Fleming ; we had not 
 thought that grief and captivity had left us 
 so well stored with that sort of wealth which 
 ladies prize most dearly." 
 
 *' Your Grace will drive this severe wo- 
 man frantic," said Fleming, in a low tone. 
 " On my knees I implore you to remember 
 she is already dreadfully offended, and that 
 we are in her power." 
 
 " I will not spare her, Fleming," answer- 
 ed tlie Queen j " it is against my nature. 
 She returned my honest sympathy with in- 
 sult and abuse, and I will gall her in return 
 — If her words are too blunt for answer, let 
 her use her poniard if she dare." 
 
 " The Lady Lochleven," said the Lady 
 Fleming aloud, " would surely do well now 
 to withdraw, and to leave her Grace to re- 
 pose." 
 
 «' Ay," replied the lady, *• or to leave her 
 Grace, and her Grace's minions, to think 
 what silly fly they may next wrap their 
 meslies about. Mv eldest son is a widower
 
 THE ABBOT. 107 
 
 ' — were he not more worthy the flattering 
 hopes with which you have seduced his bro- 
 ther ? — True, the yoke of marriage has been 
 already thrice fitted on — but the church of 
 Rome calls it a sacrament, and its votaries 
 may deem it one in which they cannot too 
 often participate." 
 
 ** And the votaries of the church of Ge- 
 neva," replied Mary, colouring with indig- 
 nation, " as they deem marriage 710 sacra- 
 ment, are said at times to dispense with the 
 holy ceremony." — Then, as if afraid of the 
 consequences of this home allusion to the 
 errors of Lady Lochleven's early life, the 
 Queen added, ** Come, my Fleming, we 
 grace her too much by this altercation, we 
 will to our sleeping apartment. If she would 
 disturb us again to-night, she must cause 
 the door to be forced." So saying, she re- 
 tired to her bed-room, followed by her two 
 women. 
 
 Lady Lochleveni stunned as it were by 
 this last sarcasm, and not the less deeply 
 incensed that she had drawn it upon her-
 
 108 THE ABBOT. 
 
 self, remained like a statue on the spot which 
 she had occupied, when she received an 
 affront so flagrant. Dryfesdale and Randal 
 endeavoured to rouse her to recollection 
 by questions. 
 
 " What is your honourable ladyship's 
 pleasure in the premises ?" 
 
 " Shall we not double the centinels, and 
 place one upon the boats and another in 
 the garden ?" said Randal. 
 
 '* Would you that dispatches were sent 
 to Sir William at Edinburgh, to acquaint 
 him with what has happened ?" demanded 
 Dryfesdale ; ** and ought not the place ot 
 Kinross to be alarmed, lest there be force 
 upon the shores of the lake r" 
 
 " Do all as thou wilt," said the lady, col- 
 lecting herself, and about to depart. " Thou 
 hast the name of a good soldier, Dryfesdale, 
 take all precautions. — Sacred heaven! that 
 I should be thus openly upbraided !" 
 
 " Would it be your pleasure," said Dryfes- 
 dale, hesitating, *' that this person — this 
 lady — be more severely restrained ?"
 
 THE ABBOT. 109 
 
 " No, vassal !" answered the lady indig- 
 nantly, " my revenge stoops not to such a 
 low gratification. But I will have more 
 worthy vengeance, or the tomb of my an- 
 cestors shall cover my shame." 
 
 *' And you shall have it, madam," replied 
 Dryfesdale — " Ere two suns go down, you 
 shall term yourself amply revenged." 
 
 The lady made no answer — perhaps did 
 not hear his words, as she presently left the 
 apartment. By the command of Dryfesdale, 
 the rest of the attendants were dismissed, 
 some to do the duty of guard, others to 
 their repose. The steward himself remained 
 after they had all departed ; and Roland 
 Grteme, who was alone in the apartment, 
 was surprised to see the old soldier advance 
 towards him with an air of greater cordiality 
 than he had ever before assumed towards 
 him, but which sat ill on his scowling fea- 
 tures. 
 
 " Youth," he said, ** I have done thee 
 some wrong — it is thine own fault, for thy 
 behaviour hath seemed as light to me as 
 5
 
 110 THE ABBOT. 
 
 the feather thou wearest in thy hat ; and 
 surely thy fantastic apparel, and idle hu- 
 mour of mirth and folly, have made me 
 construe thee something harshly. But I 
 saw this night from my casement, (as I 
 looked out to see how thou hadst disposed 
 of thyself in the garden,) I saw, I say, the 
 true efforts which thou didst make to de- 
 tain the companion of the perfidy of him 
 who is no longer worthy to be called by 
 his father's name, but must be cut off from 
 his house like a rotten branch. I was just 
 about to come to thy assistance when the 
 pistol went off; and the warder, (a false 
 knave, whom I suspect to be bribed for the 
 nonce,) sawhimself forced to give the alarm, 
 which, perchance, till tlien he had wilfully 
 withheld. To atone, therefore, for my in- 
 justice towards you, I would willingly ren- 
 der you a courtesy, if you would accept of 
 it fi"om my hands." 
 
 " May I first crave to know what it is?' 
 replied the page. 
 
 ** Simply to carry the news of this disco-
 
 THE ABBOT. Ill 
 
 very to Holyrood, where thou mayest do 
 thyself much grace, as well with th3 Earl 
 of Morton and the Regent himself) as with 
 Sir William Douglas, seeing thou bast seen 
 tlie matter from end to end, and borne faith- 
 ful part therein. The making thine own 
 fortune will be thus lodged in thine own 
 hand, when I trust thou wilt estrange thy- 
 self from foolish vanities, and learn to walk 
 in this world as one who thinks upon the 
 next." 
 
 ** Sir Steward," said Roland Graeme, •• I 
 thank you for your courtesy, but I may not 
 do your errand. I pass that I am the 
 Queen's sworn servant, and may not be of 
 counsel against her. But, setting this apart, 
 methinks it were a bad road to Sir William 
 of Lochleven's favour, to be the first to tell 
 him of his son's defection — neither would 
 the Regent be over well pleased to hear the 
 infidelity of his vassal, nor Morton to learn 
 the falsehood of his kinsman." 
 
 " Um !" said the steward, making that 
 inarticulate sound which expresses surprise
 
 112 - THE ABBOT. 
 
 mingled with displeasure. "Nay, then, even 
 fly where ye list ; for, giddy-pated as ye may 
 be, you know how to bear you in the world." 
 
 *' I will shew you my system is less sel- 
 fish than ye think for," said the page j " for 
 I hold truth and mirth to be better than 
 gravity and cunning — ay, and in the end 
 to be a match for them. — You never loved 
 me less. Sir Steward, than you do at this 
 moment, I know you will give me no real 
 confidence, and I am resolved to accept no 
 false protestations as current coin. Resume 
 your old course — suspect me as much and 
 watch me as close as you will, I bid you 
 defiance — you have met with your match." 
 
 *' By heaven, young man," said the stew- 
 ard, with a look of bitter malignity, •' if 
 thou darest to attempt any treachery to- 
 wards the house of Lochleven, thy head 
 shall blacken in the sun from the warder's 
 turret !" 
 
 " He cannot commit treachery who re- 
 fuses trust," said the page ; " and for my 
 head, it stands as securely on mine own
 
 THE ABBuT. 113 
 
 shoulders, as on any turret that ever mason 
 built." 
 
 •' Farewell, thou prating and speckled 
 pie," said Dryfesdale, " that art so vain of 
 thine idle tongue and variegated coat. Be- 
 ware trap and lime-twig." 
 
 '• And fare thee well, thou hoarse old ra- 
 ven," answered the page j " thy solemn 
 flight, sable hue, and deep croak, are no 
 charms against bird-bolt or hail-shot, and 
 that thou mayest find — It is open war be- 
 twixt us, each for the cause of our mistress, 
 and God shew the right !" 
 
 " Amen, and defend his own people 1" 
 
 said the steward. " I will let my mistress 
 
 know what addition thou hast made to this 
 
 . mess of traitors. Good night. Monsieur 
 
 Feather-pate." 
 
 *• Good night, Seignior Sowersby," re- 
 plied the page j and, when the old man de- 
 parted, he betook himself to rest.
 
 114 THE ABBOT. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Poison'd — ill fare — dead^, forsooth^ cast off. 
 
 King John, 
 
 Howsoever weary Roland Graeme might 
 be of" the Castle of Lochleven — however 
 much he might wish that the plan for Ma- 
 ry's escape had been perfected, I question 
 if he ever awoke with more pleasing feel- 
 ings than on the morning after George Dou- 
 glas's plan for accomplishing her deliver- 
 ance had been frustrated. In the first place, 
 he had the clearest conviction that he had 
 misunderstood the inuendo of the Abbot, 
 and that the affections of Douglas were fix- 
 ed, not on Catherine Seyton, but on the 
 Queen ; and in the second place, from the 
 sortofexplanation which had taken place be-
 
 THE ABBOT. 115 
 
 twixt the steward and him, he felt himself 
 at liberty, without any breach of honour to- 
 wards the family of Lochleven, to contri- 
 bute his best aid to any scheme which should 
 in future be formed for the Queen's escape ; 
 and, independently of the good will which 
 he himself had to the enterprize, he knew 
 he could find no surer road to the favour of 
 Catherine Seyton. He now sought but an 
 opportunity to inform her that he had de- 
 dicated himself to this task, and fortune was 
 propitious in affording him one which was 
 unusually favourable. 
 
 At the ordinary hour of breakfast, it was 
 introduced by the steward with the usual 
 forms, who, as soon as- it was placed on the 
 board in the inner apartment, said to Ro- 
 land GriEme, with a glance of sarcastic im- 
 port, *• I leave you, my young sir, to do 
 the office of sewer — it has been too long 
 rendered to the Lady Mary by one belong- 
 ing to the house of Douglas." 
 
 ^» Were it the prime and principal who
 
 116 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ever bore the name," said Roland, " the of- 
 fice were an honour to him." 
 
 The steward departed without replying to 
 this bravade, otherwise than by a dark look 
 of scorn. Graeme, thus left alone, busied 
 himself as one engaged in a labour of love, 
 to imitate, as well as he could, the grace 
 and courtesy with which George of Dou- 
 glas was wont to render his ceremonial ser- 
 vice at meals to the Queen of Scotland. 
 There was more than youthful vanity, — 
 there was a generous devotion in the feeling 
 with which he took up the task, as a brave 
 soldier assumes the place of a comrade who 
 has fallen in the front of battle. " I am 
 now," he said, *' their only champion ; and, 
 come weal, come woe, 1 will be, to the best 
 of my skill and power, as faithful, as trust- 
 worthy, as brave as any Douglas of them 
 all could have been." 
 
 At this moment Catherine Seyton en- 
 tered alone, contrary to her custom j and 
 not less contrary to her custom, she enter-
 
 THE ABBOT. 117 
 
 ed with her kerchief at her eyes. Roland 
 Grseme approached her with beating heart 
 and with downcast eyes, and asked her in a 
 low and hesitating voice, whether the Queen 
 were well ? 
 
 " Can you suppose it ?" said Catherine ; 
 " think you her heart and body are framed 
 of steel and iron, to endure the cruel dis- 
 appointment of yester even, and the infa- 
 mous taunts of yonder puritanic hag ? — 
 Would to God that I were a man, to aid 
 her more effectually !" 
 
 ** If those who carry pistols, and batons, 
 and poniards," said the page, " are not men, 
 they are at least Amazons, and that is as for- 
 midable." 
 
 *' You are welcome to the flash of your 
 wit, sir," replied the damsel j ** I am neither 
 in spirits to enjoy, or to reply to it." 
 
 " Well then," said the page, ** list to me 
 in all serious truth. And, first, let me say, 
 that the gear last night had been smoother, 
 had you taken me into your counsels." 
 
 *' And so we meant j but who could have
 
 118 THE ABBOT. 
 
 guessed that Master Page should chuse to 
 pass all night in the garden, like some moon- 
 stricken knight in a Spanish romance — in- 
 stead of being in his bed-room, when Dou- 
 glas came to hold communication with him 
 on our project ?" 
 
 " And why," said the page, " defer to so 
 late a moment so important a confidence ?" 
 
 " Because your communications with 
 Henderson, and — with pardon — the natural 
 impetuosity and fickleness of your disposi- 
 tion, made us dread to entrust you with a 
 secret of such consequence, till the last mo- 
 ment." 
 
 ** And why at the last moment ?" said the 
 page, offended at this frank avowal ; « why 
 at that, or any other moment, since I had 
 the misfortune to incur so much suspi- 
 cion ?" 
 
 *' Nay — now you are angry again," said 
 Catherine ; " and to serve you aright I 
 should break off this talk ; but I will be 
 magnanimous, and answer your question. 
 Know, then, our reason for trusting you was
 
 THE ABBOT. 119 
 
 two- fold. In the first place, we could scarce 
 avoid it, since you slept in the room through 
 which we had to pass. In the second 
 place"-^ 
 
 •' Nay," said the page, " you may dis- 
 pense with a second reason, when the first 
 makes your confidence in me a case of" ne- 
 cessity." 
 
 " Good now, hold thy peace," said Cathe- 
 rine. " In the second place, as I said be- 
 fore, there is one foolish person among us, 
 who believes that Roland Graeme's heart is 
 warm, though his head is giddy — that his 
 blood is pure, though it boils too hastily- 
 and that his faith and honour are true as 
 the load-star, though his tongue sometimes 
 is far less than discreet." 
 
 This avowal Catherine repeated in a low 
 tone, with her eyes fixed on the floor, as if 
 she shunned the glance of Roland while 
 she sufiered it to escape her lips — " And 
 this single friend," exclaimed the youth in 
 rapture ; " tliis only one who would do jus-
 
 120 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tice to the poor Roland Graeme, and whose 
 own generous heart taught her to distin- 
 guish between follies of the brain and faults 
 of the heart — Will you not tell me, dear- 
 est Catherine, to whom I owe my most 
 grateful, my most heartfelt thanks ?" 
 
 *• Nay," said Catherine, with her eyes still 
 fixed on the ground, *' if your own heart 
 tell you not" 
 
 ** Dearest Catherine," said the page, sei- 
 zing upon her hand, and kneeling on one 
 knee. 
 
 " If your own heart, I say, tell you not," 
 said Catherine, gently disengaging her hand, 
 " it is very ungrateful j for since the mater- 
 nal kindness of the Lady Fleming" 
 
 The page started on his feet. " By hea- 
 ven, Catherine, your tongue wears as many 
 disguises as your person. But you only 
 mock me, cruel girl. You know the Lady 
 Fleming has no more regard for any one, 
 than hath the forlorn princess who is wrought 
 into yonder piece of old figured court-tapes- 
 try."
 
 THE ABBOT. 121 
 
 " It may be so," said Catherine Seyton, 
 " but you should not speak so loud." 
 
 " Pshaw !" answered the page, but ^t-the 
 same time lowering his voice, " she cares 
 for no one but herself" and the Queen. And 
 you know, besides, there is no one of you 
 whose opinion I value, if I have not your 
 own. No — not that of Queen Mary her- 
 self" 
 
 '* Th.e more shame for you, if it be so/' 
 said Catherine with great composure. 
 
 **Nay, but, fair Catherine," said the page, 
 " why will you thus damp my ardour, when 
 I am devoting myself, body and soul, to the 
 cause of your mistress ?" 
 
 '* It is because in doing so," said Cathe- 
 rine, *' you debase a cause so noble, by na- 
 ming along with it any baser or more selfish 
 motive. Believe me," she said, with kind- 
 ling eyes, and while the blood mantled on 
 her cheek, " they think vilely and falsely 
 of women — I mean of those who deserve 
 the name — who deem that they love the 
 
 VOL. III. F
 
 122 THE ABBOT. 
 
 gratification of their vanity, or the mean 
 purpose of engrossing a lover's admiration 
 and affection, better than they love the vir- 
 tue and honour of the man they may be 
 brought to prefer. He that serves his re- 
 ligion, his prince, and his country, with ar- 
 dour and devotion, need not plead his cause 
 with the common-place rant of romantic 
 passion — the woman whom he honours with 
 his love, becomes his debtor, and her cor- 
 responding affection is engaged to repay his 
 glorious toil." 
 
 " You hold a glorious prize for siicf* 
 toil," said the youth, bending his eyes on 
 her with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Only a heart which knows how to va- 
 lue it," said C'atherine. " He that should 
 free this injured Princess from tiiese dun- 
 geons, and set her at freedom among ]}cr 
 free and warlike nobles, whose hearts are 
 burninLi to welcome her — where is the maid- 
 en in Scotland, whom the love of rucli a 
 hero weald not honour, were she sprung" 
 from the I'lood royal of the land, and he
 
 THE ABBOT. 123 
 
 the offspring of the poorest cottager that 
 ever held a plough ?" 
 
 " I am determined," said Roland, " to 
 take the adventure. Tell me first, however, 
 fair Catherine, and speak it as it' you were 
 confessing to the priest — this poor Queen, 
 i know she is unhappy — but, Catherine, do 
 you hold her innocent ? She is accused of 
 murder." 
 
 " Do I hold the lamb guilty, because it 
 is assailed by the wolf?" answered Cathe- 
 rine y ** do 1 hold yonder sun polluted, be- 
 cause an earth-damp sullies his beams ?" 
 
 The page sighed and looked down. 
 
 "■ Would my conviction were as deep as 
 
 thine ! But one thing is clear, that in this 
 
 captivity she hath wrong — She rendered 
 
 :crse!f up on a capitulation, and the terms 
 
 we been refused her — I will embrace her 
 
 ujarrel to the death." 
 
 '• Will yon — will you, indeed ?" said Ca- 
 
 '.erjne, taking his hand in her turn. " O 
 
 •? but firm in mind, as thou art bold in 
 
 'ced and quick in resolution j keep but 
 
 7
 
 124 THE ABBOT. 
 
 thy plighted faith, and after ages shall ho- 
 nour thee as the saviour of Scotland," 
 
 " But when I have toiled successfully to 
 win that Leah, Honour, thou wilt not, my 
 Catherine," said the page, " condemn me 
 to a new term of service for that Rachel, 
 Love ?" 
 
 " Of that," said Catherine, again extri- 
 cating her hand from his grasp, " we shall 
 have full time to speak ; but Honour is the 
 elder sister, and must be won the first." 
 
 •' I may not win her," answered the page ; 
 ** but I will venture fairly for her, and man 
 can do no more. And know, fair Catherine, 
 for you shall see the very secret thought 
 of my heart, that not Honour only — not 
 only that other and fairer sister, whom yo'i 
 frown on me for so much as mentioning — 
 but the stern commands of duty also, com- 
 pel me to aid the Queen's deliverance." 
 
 . *' Indeed !" said Catherine ; '* you were 
 wont to have doubts on that matter.' 
 
 " Ay, but her life was not then threaten- 
 ed," replied Roland.
 
 THE ABBOT. 125 
 
 •' And is it now more endangered than 
 heretofore ?" asked Catherine Seyton, in 
 anxious terror. 
 
 " Be not alarmed," said the page ; " but 
 you heard the terms on which your Royai 
 Mistress parted with the Lady of Loch- 
 leven r" 
 
 " Too well — but too well," said Cathe- 
 rine ; *' alas ! that she cannot rule her 
 princely resentment, and refrain from en- 
 counters like these !" 
 
 '* That hath passed betwixt them," said 
 Ilolancl, " for which woman never forf^ives 
 woman. I saw the Lady's brow turn pale, 
 and then black, when, before all the men- 
 zie, and in her moment of power, the 
 Queen humbled her to the dust by taxing 
 lier wir.h her shame. And 1 lieard tlie oath 
 of deadly resentment and revenge which 
 she muttered in the ear of one, who by his 
 answer will, I judge, be but too ready an 
 executioner of her will." 
 
 '* You terrify me," said Catherine.
 
 126 THE ABBOT. 
 
 *♦ Do not so take it — call up the mascu- 
 line part of your spirit — we will counter- 
 act and defeat her plans, be they dangerous 
 as they may. Why do you look upon me 
 thus and weep ?" 
 
 '* Alas !" said Catherine, " because you 
 stand there before me a living and breath- 
 ing man, in all the adventurous glow and 
 enterprize of youth, yet still possessing the 
 frolic spirits of childhood — there you stand, 
 full alike of generous enterprize and child- 
 ish recklessness; and if to-day, to-morrow, 
 or some such brief space, you lie a mangled 
 and lifeless corpse upon the floor of these 
 hateful dungeons, who but Catherine Sey- 
 ton will be the cause of your brave and 
 gay career being broken short as you start 
 from the goal ? Alas i she whom you have 
 chosen to twine your wreath, may too pro- 
 bably have to work your shroud." 
 
 ** And be it so, Catherine,'" said the page, 
 in the full glow of youthful enthusiasm ; 
 " and do thou Vvork my shroud j and if thou
 
 THE ABBOT. 127 
 
 grace it with such tears as fall now at 'the 
 thought, it will honour my remains more 
 than an earl's mantle would my living body. 
 Bat shame on this faintness of heart ! the 
 time craves a firmer mood — Be a woman, 
 Catherine, or rather be a man — thou canst 
 be a man ifthoa wilt." 
 
 Catherine dried her tears, and endea- 
 voured to smile. 
 
 ♦' You must not ask me," she said, " about 
 that which so much disturbs your mind j 
 YOU shall know all in time — nay, you should 
 know all now, but that — Hush ! here comes 
 the Queen." 
 
 Mary entered from her apartment, paler 
 than usual, and apparently exhausted by a 
 sleepless night, and by the painful thoughts 
 which had ill supplied the place of repose ; 
 yet the languor of her looks was so far from 
 impairing her beauty, that it only substi- 
 tuted the frail delicacy of the lovely woman 
 for the majestic grace of the Queen. Con- 
 trary to her wont, her toilette had been very 
 hastily dispatched, and her hair, which wa^
 
 128 THS ABBOT. 
 
 usually dressed by Lady Fleming wiiii great 
 care, escaping from beneath the bead-tire, 
 which had been hastily adjusted, fell in long 
 and luxuriant tresses of Nature's own curl- 
 ing, over a neck and bosom which were 
 somewhat less carefully veiled than usual. 
 As she stepped over the threshold of her 
 apartment, Catherine, hastily drying her 
 tears, ran to meet her Royal Mistress, and 
 having first kneeled at her feet, and kissed 
 lier hand, instantly rose, and placing her- 
 self OR the other side of'the Quef^n, seemed 
 anxious to divide with the Lady Flemnm 
 the honour of supporting and a^^sisting her. 
 The page, on liis part, advanced and put in 
 order the chair of state, whicli she usually 
 occupied, and having placed the cushion 
 and foot stool for her accommodation, step- 
 ped back, and stood ready for service in 
 the place usually occupied by his prede- 
 cessor, the young Seneschal. ALiry's eye 
 rested an instant on him, and could not 
 hut remark the change of persons. Her's 
 was not the female heart which could re-
 
 thl: abbot. 129 
 
 fuse compassion at least, to a gallant youth 
 who had suffered in her cause, altliough he 
 had been guided in liis enterprize by a loo 
 presumptuous passion; and the words "Poor 
 Douglas !" escaped ii-om her lips, perhaps 
 unconsciouslv, as she leant herself back in 
 her chair, and put the kerchief to her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, gracious madam," said Catherine, 
 assuming a cheerful manner, in order to 
 cheer her Sovereign, '' our gallant knight 
 is indeed banished — the adventure was not 
 reserved for him, but he has left behind him 
 a youthful E-quire, as much devoted to your 
 Grace's service, and who, by me, makes you 
 tender of his hand and sword." 
 
 ** If they may in aught avail your Grjce," 
 said Roland Graeme, bowing profoundly. 
 
 '* Alas !" said the Queen, " what needs 
 this, Catherine ? — why prepare new victims 
 to be involved in, and overwhelmed by my 
 cruel fortune ? — vvere we not better cease to 
 struggle, and ourselves sink in the tide with- 
 out further resistance, than thus drag into 
 destruction with us every generous heart 
 F 2
 
 ISO tHE ABBOi. 
 
 which makes an effort in our favour? — I 
 have had but too much of plot and intrigue 
 around me, since I was stretched an or- 
 phan child in my very cradle, while con- 
 tending nobles strove which should rule 
 in the name of the unconscious innocent. 
 Surely time it were that all this busy and 
 most dangerous coil should end. Let me 
 call my prison a convent, and my seclusion 
 a voluntary sequestration of myself from 
 the world and its ways." 
 
 " Speak not thus, madam, before your 
 faithful servants," said Catherine, " to dis- 
 courage their zeal at once, and to break 
 their hearts. Daughter of kings, be not in 
 this hour so unkingly — Come, Roland, and 
 let us, the youngest of her followers, shew 
 ourselves worthy of her cause — let us kneel 
 before her foot-stool, and implore her to be 
 her own magnanimous self." And leading 
 Roland Grasme to the Queen's seat, they 
 both kneeled down before her. Mary raised 
 herself in her chair, and sat erect, while 
 extending one hand to be kissed by the
 
 THE ABBOT. 131 
 
 page, she arranged with the other the clus- 
 tering locks which shaded the bold yet 
 iovely brow of the high-spirited Catherine. 
 
 " Alas ! ma mignonne^^ she said, for so 
 in fondness she often called her young at- 
 tendant, " that you should thus desperately 
 mix with my unhappy fate the fortune of 
 your own young lives ! Are they not a love- 
 ly couple, my Fleming ? and is it not heart- 
 rending to think that I must be their ruin ?" 
 
 '♦ Not so," said Roland Graeme, •' it is 
 we, gracious Sovereign, who will be your 
 deliverers." 
 
 *' Ex orihus parvulorumV said the Queen, 
 looking upward ; " if it is by the mouth of 
 these children that heaven calls me to re- 
 sume the stately thoughts which become 
 my birth and my rights, thou wilt grant 
 them thy protection, and to me the power 
 of rewarding their zeai." — Then turning to 
 Fleming, she instantly added, — ♦' Thou 
 knowest, my friend, whether to make those 
 who have served me happy, was not ever 
 Mary's favourite pastime. When I have
 
 132 THE ABBOT, 
 
 been rebuked by the stern preachers of the 
 Calvinistic heresy — when I have seen the 
 fierce countenances of my nobles averted 
 from me, has it not been because I mixed 
 in the harmless pleasures of the young and 
 gay, and rather for the sake of their happi- 
 ness than my own, have mingled in ti^e 
 masque, the song, or the dance, with the 
 youth of my household. Well, I repent 
 not of it — though Knox termed it sin, and 
 Morton degradation — I was happy, because 
 1 saw happiness around me; and woe betide 
 the wretched jealousy that can extract guilt 
 out of the oveiflowiiigs of an unguarded 
 gaiety ! — Fleming, if we are restored to our 
 throne, shall we not have one blithesome 
 dav at a blithesome bridal, of which we must 
 HOW name neither the bride nor the bride- 
 groom ? but that bridcixroom shall have the 
 b?j-onv of Blairgowrie, a fair gift even fcr 
 V. Queen to give, and that bride's chaplet 
 siiall be twined with the fairest pearls that 
 ever were found in the depths of Loch- 
 tomond ; and thou thyself, Mary Fleming,
 
 THE ABBOT. IfJS 
 
 the best dresser of tires that ever busked the 
 tresses of a queen, and who would scorn to 
 touch those of any woman of lower rank, 
 — thou thyself shalt for my love twine them 
 into the bride's tresses. — Look, my Fle- 
 ming, suppose them such clustered locks 
 as those of our Catherine, they would not 
 put shame upon thy skill." 
 
 So saying, she passed her hand fondly 
 over the head of her youthful favourite, 
 while her more aged attendant replied de- 
 spondently, " Alas! madam, your thoughts 
 stray far from home." 
 
 *' Tney tio, my Fleming," said the Queen, 
 *' but is it well or kind in you to call them 
 
 back? God knows, they havekepttheperch 
 
 this night but too closely — Come, I will re- 
 cal the gay vision, were it but to punish 
 them. Yes, at that blithesome bridal, Mary 
 herself shall forget the weight of sorrows, 
 and the toil of state, and herself once 
 more lead a measure. — At whose wed- 
 ding Vvas it that we last danced, my Fle- 
 ming ? I think care has troubled my me-
 
 134 THE ABBOT. 
 
 raory — yet something of it I should remem- 
 ber — canst thou not aid me ? — I know thou 
 canst." 
 
 " Alas ! madam," replied the lady — 
 
 •' What !" said Mary, '♦ wilt thou not help 
 us so far? this is a peevish adherence to 
 thine own graver opinion, which holds our 
 talk as folly. But thou art court-bred, and 
 wilt well understand me when I say, the 
 Queen commands Lady Fleming to tell her 
 where she led the last hranleT 
 
 With a face deadly pale, and a mien as 
 if she were about to sink into the earth, the 
 court-bred dame, no longer daring to refuse 
 obedience, faultered out — *• Gracious Lady 
 — if my memory err not — it was at a masque 
 in Holyrood — at the marriage of Sebas- 
 tian." 
 
 The unhappy Queen, who had hitherto 
 listened with a melancholy smile, provoked 
 by the reluctance with which the Lady 
 Fleming brought out her story, at this ill- 
 fated word, interrupted her with a shriek so 
 wild and loud that the vaulted apartment
 
 THK ABBOT. 135 
 
 fang, and both Roland and Catherine 
 sprung to their feet in the utmost terror 
 and alarm. Meantime, Mary seemed, by 
 the train of horrible ideas thus suddenly ex- 
 cited, surprised not only beyond self-com- 
 mand, but for the moment beyond the 
 verge of reason. 
 
 " Traitress !" she said to the Lady Fle- 
 ming, *' thou wouldst slay thy sovereign 
 — Call my French guards — a moi I a moi i 
 mes Fran^ais ! — I am beset with traitors in 
 mine own palace — they have murdered my 
 husband — Rescue ! rescue I for the Queen 
 of Scotland !" She started up from her 
 chair— her features, late so exquisitely love- 
 ly in their paleness, now inflamed with the 
 fury of frenzy, and resembling those of a 
 Bellona. •* We will take the field ourselfi" 
 she said ; " warn the city — warn Lothian 
 and Fife — saddle our Spanish barb, and bid 
 French Paris see our petronel be charged. 
 — Better to die at the head of our brave 
 Scotsmen, like our grandfather at Flodden,
 
 136 THE ABBOT. 
 
 than of a broken heart, like our ill starred 
 father." 
 
 " Be patient — be composed, dearest So- 
 vereign," said Catherine; and then address- 
 ing Lady Fleming angrily, she added, "How 
 could you say aught that reminded her of 
 her husband ?" 
 
 The word reached the ear of the unhappy 
 Princess, who caught it up, speaking with 
 great rapidity. " Husband ! — what hus- 
 band ? — Not his most Christian Majesty — he 
 is ill at ease — he cannot mount on horse- 
 back. — Not him of the Lennox — but it was 
 the Duke of Orkney thou wouldst say." 
 
 *' For God's love, madan), be patient I" 
 said the Lady Fleming. 
 
 ButtheQueen^s excited imagination could 
 by no entreaty be diverted from its course. 
 '* Bid him come hither to our aid," she said, 
 *' and bring with him his lambs, as he calls 
 them — Bowton, Hay of Talla, Black Ormis 
 ton, and his kinsman Hob — Fie ! how swart 
 they are, and how they smell of sulphur.
 
 THii ABBOT. Ici7 
 
 What ! closeted with Morton ? Nay, if the 
 Doughhs and the Hepburn hatch the com- 
 pk)t together, the bird, when it breaks the 
 shell, will scare Scotland. Will it not, ray 
 Fleming ?' 
 
 " She grows wilder and wilder," said Fle- 
 ming ; " we have too many hearers for these 
 strange words." 
 
 " Roland," said Catherine, «* in the name 
 of God, begone ! You cannot aid us here — 
 Leave us to deal with her alone^ — Away — 
 away !" 
 
 She thrust him to the door of the anti- 
 room ; yet even when he had entered that 
 apartment, and shut the door, he could still 
 hear the Queen talk in a loud and deter- 
 mined tone, as if giving forth orders, until at 
 length the voice died away in a feeble and 
 continued lamentation. 
 
 At this crisis Catherine entered the anti- 
 room. " Be not too anxious," she said, *' the 
 crisis is now over ; but keep the door fast 
 —let no one enter until she is more com- 
 posed.'"'
 
 138 THE ALBOT. 
 
 " In the name of God, what does this 
 mean ?" said the page ; *' or what was there 
 in the Lady Fleming's words to excite so 
 wild a transport ?" 
 
 '* O the Lady Fleming, the Lady Fle- 
 ming," said Catherine, repeating the words 
 impatiently ; " the Lady Fleming is a fool — 
 she loves her mistress, yet knows so little 
 how to express her love, that were the Queen 
 to ask her for very poison, she would deem 
 it a point of duty not to resist her com- 
 mands. I could have torn her starched head- 
 tire from her formal head — The Queen 
 should have as soon had the heart out of 
 my body, as the word Sebastian out of my 
 lips — That that piece of weaved tapestry 
 should be a woman, and yet not have wic 
 enough to tell a lie !' 
 
 " And what was this story of Sebastian r ' 
 said the page. " By heaven, Catherine, you 
 are all riddles alike." 
 
 " You are as great a fool as Fleming, ' re- 
 turned the impatient maiden j •• know ye 
 not, that on the night of Henry Darnley's
 
 THE ABBOT. ISO 
 
 murder, and at the blowing up of the Kirk 
 of Field, the Queen's absence was owing to 
 her attending on a masque at Holyrood, 
 iL^iven by her to grace the marriage of this 
 same Sebastian, who, iiimself a favoured 
 servant, married one of iier female attend- 
 ants who was near to her person ?" 
 
 " By Saint Giles," said the page, " I won- 
 der not at her passion, bur only marvel by 
 what forgetfulness it was that she could 
 urge the Lady Fleming with such a ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " I cannot account for it," said Cathe- 
 rine ; *' but it seems as if great and violent 
 grief or horror sometimes obscure tiie me- 
 mory, and spread a cloud like that of an 
 exploding cannon, over the circumstances 
 with which they are acconipanied. But 1 
 may not stay here, where 1 came not to mo- 
 ralize with your wisdom, but simply to cool 
 my resentment against that unwise Lady 
 Fleming, which I think hath now somewhat 
 abated, so that I shall endure her presence
 
 14-0 THE ABBOT. 
 
 without any desire to damage either her 
 curch or vasquine. Mean\\hile, keep fast 
 that door — I would not for my life that any 
 of these heretics saw her in the unhap- 
 py state, which, brought on her as it has 
 been by the success of their own diabolical 
 plottings, they would not stick to call, in 
 their snuffling cant, the judgment of Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 She left the apartment just as the latch 
 of the outward door was raised from with- 
 out. But the bolt which Roland had drawn 
 on the inside, resisted the efforts of the per- 
 son desirous to enter. *' Who is there ?'" 
 said Grffime aloud. 
 
 " It is ]," replied the harsh and yet slow 
 voice of the steward Dryfesdale. 
 
 " You cannot enter now," returned the 
 youth. 
 
 '• And wherefore ?" demanded Dryfes- 
 dale, *' seeing I come but to do my duty, 
 and enquire what mean the shrieks from 
 the apartmentof theMoabitishlady. Where-
 
 THE ABBOT. 141 
 
 fore, I say, since such is mine errand, can 
 I not enter ?" 
 
 " Simply," replied the youth, *< because 
 the bolt is drawn, and I have no fancy to 
 undo it. 1 have the rigb.t side of the door 
 to-day, as you had last night." 
 
 *' Thou art ill-advised, thou malapert 
 boy," replied the steward, " to speak to me 
 in such fashion ; but I shall inform my lady 
 of thine insolence." 
 
 " The insolence," said the page, " is 
 meant for thee only, in fair guerdon of thy 
 constant discourtesy to me. For thy lady's 
 information, I have answer more courteous 
 — you may say that the Queen is ill at ease, 
 and desires to be disturbed neither by visits 
 nor messages." 
 
 •■* I conjure you, in the name of God," 
 said the old man, with more solemnity in 
 his tone than he had hitherto used, ** to let 
 me know if her malady really gains power 
 on iier !" 
 
 " She will have no aid at your hand, or 
 at your lady's — wherefore, begone, and trou-
 
 142 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ble us no more — we neither want, nor will 
 accept of aid at your hands.'" 
 
 With this positive reply, the steward, 
 grumbling, and di?satisfied, returned down 
 
 stairs.
 
 THE ABBOT. 143 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It is the curse of kings to be attended 
 
 By slaves, who take their humours for a warrant 
 
 To break into the bloody house of life. 
 
 And on the winking of authority 
 
 To understand a law. 
 
 King John, 
 
 The Lady of Lochleven sat alone in her 
 chamber, endeavouring, with sincere but 
 imperfect zeal, to fix her eyes and her at- 
 tention on the black-lettered Bible which 
 !ay before her, bound in velvet and em- 
 broidery, and adorned with massive silver 
 clasps and knosps. But she found her ut- 
 most efJbrts unable to withdraw her mind 
 from the resentful recollection of what had 
 la ,t nitiiht passed betwixt her and the Queen, 
 ir. wiiicii the latter had with such bitter 
 taunt rcmnuled her of her early an'l long- 
 j'err!itc''l tjan-'^iTTes-^ion,
 
 144 TBE ABBOT. 
 
 Why, she said, should I resent so deeply, 
 that another reproaches me with that which 
 I have never ceased to make matter of blush- 
 ing to myself? and yet, why should this 
 woman, who reaps — at least, has reaped, the 
 fruits of my folly, and has jostled my son 
 aside from the throne, why should she, in 
 the face of all my domestics, and of her 
 own, dare to upbraid me with my shame 
 and folly ? Is she not in my power ? Does 
 she not fear me ? Ha ! wily tempter, I will 
 wrestle with thee strongly, and with better 
 suggestions than my own evil heart can 
 supply. 
 
 She again took up the sacred volume, and 
 was endeavouring to fix her attention on its 
 contents, when she was disturbed by a tap 
 at the door of the room. It opened at her 
 command, and the Steward Dryfesdale en- 
 tered, and stood before her with a gloomy 
 and perturbed expression on his brow. 
 
 *' What has chanced, Dryfesdale, that thou 
 lookest thus ?" said his mistress—" Have 
 8
 
 THE ABBOT. 145 
 
 there been evil tidings of my son, or of my 
 grandchildren ?" 
 
 " No, lady," replied Dryfesdale, " but 
 you were deeply insulted last night, and I 
 fear me thou art as deeply avenged this 
 morning — Where is the chaplain ?" 
 
 *' What mean you by hints so dark, and 
 a question so sudden ? The chaplain, as 
 you well know, is absent at Perth upon an 
 assembly of the brethren." 
 
 " I care not," answered the steward, " he 
 is but a priest of Baal." 
 
 " Dryfesdale," said the Lady, sternly, 
 *" what meanest thou ? I have ever heard, 
 that in the Low Countries thou didst herd 
 with the Anabaptist preachers, those boars 
 which tear up the vintage — But the mini- 
 stry which suits me and my house must 
 content my retainers." 
 
 " I would I had good ghostly counsel 
 though," replied the steward, not attending 
 to his mistress's rebuke, andseemingtospeak 
 to himself, " this woman of Moab" 
 
 VOL. III. G
 
 146 THE ABBOT. 
 
 •' Speak of her with reverence," said the 
 lady, •* she is a king's daughter." 
 
 *' Be it so," replied Dryfesdale ; " she 
 goes where there is little difference betwixt 
 her and a beggar's child — Mary of Scotland 
 is dying." 
 
 *' Dying, and in my castle !" said the Lady, 
 starting up in alarm •, ** of what disease, or 
 by what accident?" 
 
 " Bear patience, lady. The ministry was 
 mine." 
 
 " Thine, villain and traitor '. — how didst 
 thou dare ?" 
 
 " I heard you insulted, lady — 1 heard you 
 demand vengeance — I promised it you, and 
 I now bring tidings of it." 
 
 " Dryfesdale, I trust thou ravest," said 
 the lady. 
 
 " I rave not," replied the steward j " that 
 which was written of me a million of years 
 ere I saw the light, must be executed by 
 me. She hath that in her veins that, I fear 
 me, will soon stop the springs of life."
 
 THE ABBOT. 147 
 
 *• Cruel villain," exclaimed the Lady, 
 ** thou hast not poisoned her r" 
 
 ** And if I had," said Dryfesdale, *' what 
 does it so greatly merit? Men bane vermin 
 — why not rid them of their enemies so ? 
 in Italy ihey will do it for a cruizuedor." 
 
 ** Cowardly ruffian, begone from my 
 sight !" 
 
 " Think better of my zeal, lady," said the 
 steward, •' and judge not without looking 
 around you. Lindsay, Ruthven, and your 
 kinsman Morton poniarded Rizzio, and yet 
 you now see no blooa on tneir embroidery 
 — the Lord Semple stabbed the Lord of 
 Sanquhar — does his bonnet sit a jot more 
 awry on his brow ? What noble lives in Scot- 
 land who has nothad a share, for policy or re- 
 venge, in some such dealing ? — and who im- 
 putes it to them? Be not cheated with names 
 — a dagger or a draught work to the same 
 end, ard are little unlike — a glass phial im- 
 prisons the one, and a leathern sheath the 
 other — one deals with the brain, the other
 
 148 THE ABBOT, 
 
 sluices the blood — Yet, I say not I gave 
 aught to this lady." 
 
 <' What dost thou mean by thus dallying 
 with me?" said the lady ; " as thou wouldst 
 save thy neck from the rope it merits, tell 
 me the whole truth of this story — thou hast 
 long been known a dangerous man." 
 
 " Ay, in my master's service, I can be 
 cold and sharp as my sword. Be it known 
 to you, that v.hen last on shore, I consult- 
 ed with a woman of skill and power, called 
 Nicneven, of whom the country has rung 
 for this some brief time past. Fools asked 
 her for charms to make them beloved, mi- 
 sers for means to increase their store j some 
 demanded to know the future — an idle wish, 
 since it cannot be altered ; others would 
 have an explanation of the past — idler still, 
 since it cannot be recalled — I heard their 
 queries with scorn, and demanded the means 
 of avenging myself of a deadly enemy, for 
 1 grow old, and may trust no longer to Bil- 
 boa blade. She gave me a packet — Mix
 
 THE ABBOT. 149 
 
 that, said she, with any liquid, and thy ven- 
 geance is complete." 
 
 '♦ Villain ! and you mixed it with the 
 food of" this imprisoned lady, to the dis- 
 honour of thy master's house ?'' 
 
 " To redeem the insulted honour of my 
 master's house, I mixed the contents of the 
 packet with the jar of succory- water ; they 
 seldom fail to drain it, and the woman loves 
 it over all." 
 
 *' It was a work of hell," said the Lady 
 Lochleven, '* both the asking and the grant- 
 ing. — Away, wretched man, let us see if aid 
 be yet too late !" 
 
 «• They will not admit us, madam, save 
 we enter by force — I have been twice at 
 the door, but can obtain no entrance." 
 
 *' We will beat it level with the ground, 
 if needful — And, hold — summon Randal 
 hither instantly. — Randal, here is a foul 
 and evil chance befallen — send off a boat 
 instantly to Kinross, the Chamberlain Luke 
 Lundin is said to have skill — Fetch oft', too,
 
 150 THE ABBOT. 
 
 that foul witch Nicneven ; she shall firsi 
 counteract her own spell, and then be burn- 
 ed to ashes in the island of Saint Serf 
 Away, away — Tell them to hoist sail and 
 ply oar, as ever they would have good of 
 the Douglas's hand." 
 
 '* Mother Nicneven will not be lightly 
 Ibund or fetched hither on these condi- 
 tions," answered Dryfesdale. 
 
 " Then grant her full assurance of safe- 
 ty — Look to it, for thine own life must an- 
 swer for this lady's recovery." 
 
 '• I might have guessed that," said Dryfes- 
 dale sullenly ; " but it is ray comfort I 
 have avenged mine own cause, as well as 
 yours. She hath scoffed and scripped at 
 me, and encouraged her saucy minion of 
 a page to ridicule my stiff gait and slow 
 speech. I felt it borne in upon me that I 
 was to be avenged on them." 
 
 *• Go to the western turret," said the 
 Lady, " and remain there in ward until we 
 see how this gear will terminate, I know
 
 THE ABBOT. 151 
 
 thy resolved disposition — thou wilt not at- 
 tempt escape." 
 
 ** Not were the walls of the turret of egg- 
 shells, and the lake sheeted with ice," said 
 Dryfesdale. *' I am well taught, and strong 
 in belief that man does nought of himself; 
 he is but the foam on the billow, which 
 rises, bubbles, and bursts, not by its own 
 effort, but by the mightier impulse of fate, 
 which urges him. Yet, lady, if I may ad- 
 vise, amid this zeal for the life of the Jeza- 
 bel of Scotland, forget not what is due to 
 thine own honour, and keep the matter se- 
 cret as you may." 
 
 So saying, the gloomy fatalist turned from 
 her, and stalked off with sullen composure 
 to the place of confinement allotted to him. 
 
 His lady caught at his last hint, and on- 
 ly expressed her fear that the prisoner had 
 partaken of some unwholesome food, and 
 was dangerously ill. The castle was soon 
 alarmed and in confusion. Randal was dis- 
 patched to the shore to fetch of!' Lundin,
 
 152 THE ABBOT. 
 
 with such remedies as could counteract 
 poison ; and with farther instructions to 
 bring Mother Nivneven, if she could be 
 found, with fall power to pledge the Lady 
 of Lochleven's word for her safety. 
 
 Meanwhile the Lady of Lochleven her- 
 self held parley at the door of the Queen's 
 apartment, and in vain urged the page to 
 undo it. 
 
 " Foolish boy !" she said, " thine own 
 life and thy Lady's are at stake — Open, I 
 say, or we will cause the door to be broken 
 down." 
 
 " I may not open the door without my 
 Royal Mistress's orders, ' answered Roland ; 
 *' she has been very ill, and now she slum- 
 bers — if you wake her by using violence, 
 let the consequence be on you and your 
 followers." 
 
 •' Was ever woman in a strait so fearful ?" 
 said the Lady of Lochleven — " At leastj 
 thou rash boy, beware that no one tastes 
 the food, but especially the jar of succory, 
 water."
 
 THE ABBOT. IBS 
 
 She then hastened to the turret, where 
 Dryfesdale had composedly resigned him- 
 self to imprisonment. She found him read- 
 ing, and demanded of him, •• Was thy fell 
 potion of speedy operation ?" 
 
 «' Slow !" answered the steward. " The 
 hag asked me which I chose — I told her I 
 loved a slow and sure revenge. Revenge, 
 said I, is the highest-flavoured draught 
 which man tastes upon earth, and he should 
 sip it by little and little— not drain it up 
 greedily at once." 
 
 " Against whom, unhappy man, couldst 
 thou nourish so fell a revenge ?" 
 
 ** I had many objects, but the chief was 
 that insolent page." 
 
 *• The boy I — thou inhuman man," ex- 
 claimed the lady ; ** what could he do to 
 deserve thy malice ?" 
 
 " He rose in your favour, and you gra- 
 ced him with your commissions — that was 
 one thing. He rose in that of George Dou- 
 glas's also — that was another. He was the 
 Q 2
 
 154 THE ABBOT. 
 
 favourite of the Calvinistic Henderson, who 
 hated me because my spirit disowns a sepa- 
 rated priesthood. The Moabitish Queen 
 held him dear — winds from each opposing 
 point blew in his favour — the old servitor 
 of your house was held lightly among ye — 
 above all, from the first time I saw his face, 
 I longed to destroy him." 
 
 ♦' What fiend have I nurtured in my 
 house ?" rephed the Lady. ** May God for- 
 give me the sin of having given thee food 
 and raiment !" 
 
 *' You might not chuse, lady," answered 
 the steward. '* Long ere this castle was 
 builded — ay, long ere the islet which sus- 
 tains it reared its head above the blue wa- 
 ter, 1 was destined to be your faithful slave, 
 and you to be my ungrateful mistress. Re- 
 member you not when I plunged amid the 
 victorious French, in the time of this ladjs 
 mother, and brought off your husband, when 
 those who had hung at the same breasts 
 with him dared not attempt the rescue ?—
 
 THE ABBOT. 155 
 
 Remember how I phinged into the lake 
 when your grandson's skiff was overtaken 
 by the tempest, boarded, and steered her 
 safe to the land. Lady — the servant of a 
 Scottish baron is he who regards not his 
 own life, or that of any other, save his mas- 
 ter. And, for the death of the woman, I 
 had tried the potion on her sooner, had not 
 Master George been her taster. Her death 
 — would it not be the happiest news that 
 Scotland ever heard .? Is she not of the 
 bloody Guisian stock, whose sword was so 
 often red with the blood of God's saints ? 
 Is she not the daughter of the wretched ty- 
 rant James, whom heaven cast down from 
 his kingdom, and his pride, even as the king 
 of Babylon was smitten ?" 
 
 " Peace, villain !" said the lady — a thou- 
 sand varied recollections thronging on her 
 mind at the mention of her royal lover's 
 name ; " Peace, and disturb not the ashes 
 of the dead — of the royal, of the unhappy 
 dead. Read thy Bible j and may God grant 
 thee to avail thyself better of its contents 
 10 
 
 V
 
 156 THE ABBOT. 
 
 than thou hast yet done." She departed 
 hastily, and as she reached the next apart- 
 ment, the tears rose to her eyes so hastily, 
 that she was compelled to stop and use her 
 kerchief to dry them. " I expected not this," 
 she said, " no more than to have drawn wa- 
 ter from the dry flint, or sap from a wither- 
 ed tree. I saw with a dry eye the apostacy 
 and shame of George Douglas, the hope of 
 my son's house — the child of my love ; and 
 yet I now weep for him who has so long 
 lain in his grave — for him to whom I owe 
 it, that his daughter can make a scoffing and 
 a jest of my name 1 But she is his daughter 
 — my heart, hardened against her for so 
 many causes, relents when a glance of her 
 eye places her father unexpectedly before 
 me — and as often her likeness to that true 
 daughter of the house of Guise, her detested 
 mother, has again confirmed my resolution. 
 But she must not — must not die in my 
 house, and by so foul a practice. Thank 
 God, the operation of the potion is slow, 
 and may be counteracted. I vvill to her 
 
 /"
 
 THE ABBOT. 157 
 
 apartment once more. But O ! that hard- 
 ened villain, whose fidelity we held in such 
 esteem, and had such high proof of ! What 
 miracle can unite so much wickedness, and 
 so much truth, in one bosom !" 
 
 The Lady of Lochleven was not aware 
 how far minds of a certain gloomy and de- 
 termined cast by nature, may be warped by 
 a keen sense of petty injuries and insults, 
 combining with the love of gain, and sense 
 of self-interest, and amalgamated with the 
 crude, wild, and undigested fanatical opi- 
 nions which this man had gathered among 
 the crazy sectaries of Germany ; or how far 
 the doctrines of fatalism, which he had em- 
 braced so decidedly, sear the human con- 
 science, by representing our actions as the 
 result of inevitable necessity. 
 
 During her visit to the prisoner, Roland 
 had communicated to Catherine the tenor 
 of the conversation he had had with her at 
 the door of the apartment. The quick in- 
 telligence of that lively maiden instantly 
 comprehended the outline of what was be- 
 
 ^X.
 
 158 THE ABBOT. 
 
 lieved to have happened, but her prejudices 
 hurried her beyond the truth. 
 
 *' They meant to have poisoned us," she 
 exclaimed in horror, ♦' and there stands the 
 fatal liquor which should have done the 
 deed i — ay, as soon as Douglas ceased to be 
 our taster, our food was like to be fatally 
 seasoned. Thou, Roland, who shouldst have 
 made the essay, wert readily doomed to die 
 vvith us. O, dearest Lady Fleming, par- 
 don, pardon, for the injuries I said to you 
 in my anger — your words were prompted 
 by heaven to save our lives, and especially 
 that of the injured Queen. But what have 
 we now to do ^ that old crocodile of the 
 lake will be presently back to shed her hy- 
 pocritical tears over our dying agonies. — 
 Lady Fleming, what shall we do ?" 
 
 " Our Lady help us in our need !" she 
 repHed ; *' how should I tell — unless we 
 were to make our plaint to the Regent." 
 
 ** Make our plaint to the devil," said Ca- 
 therine, impatiently, '* and accuse his dam 
 atthefbotofhisburningthrone! — the Queen
 
 THE ABBOT. 159 
 
 still sleeps — we must gain time. The poi- 
 soning hag must not know her scheme has 
 miscarried ; the old envenomed spider has 
 but too many ways of mending her broken 
 web. — The jar of succory water," said she — 
 ♦' Roland, if thou be'st a man, help me — 
 empty the jar on the chimney or from the 
 window — make such waste among the vi- 
 ands as if we had made our usual meal, and 
 leave the fragments on cup and porringer, 
 but taste nothing as thou lovest thy life. I 
 will sit by the Queen, and tell her at her 
 waking, in what a fearful pass we stand. 
 Her sharp wit and ready spirit will teach 
 us what is best to be done. Meanwhile, till 
 farther notice, observe, Roland, that the 
 Queen is in a state of torpor — that Lady 
 Fleming is indisposed — that character, 
 (speaking in a lower tone) will suit her best, 
 and save her wits some labour in vain. I 
 am not so much indisposed, thou under- 
 standest."' 
 
 " And I ?" said the page
 
 160 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " You ?" replied Catherine, " you are 
 quite well — who thinks it worth while to 
 poison puppy-dogs or pages?" 
 
 " Does this levity become the time ?' 
 said the page. 
 
 *' It does, it does," answered Catherine 
 Seyton ; ** if the Queen approves, 1 see 
 plainly how this disconcerted attempt may 
 do us good service." 
 
 She went to work while she spoke, eagerly 
 assisted by Roland. The breakfast- table 
 soon displayed the appearance as if the la- 
 dies had eaten their meal as usual, and the 
 ladies retired as <softly as possible into the 
 Queen's sleeping apartment. At a new 
 summons of the Lady Lochleven, the page 
 undid the door and admitted her into the 
 anti-room, asking her pardon for having 
 withstood her, alleging in excuse, that the 
 Queen had fallen into a heavy slumber since 
 she had broken her fast. 
 
 " She has eaten and drunken then?" said 
 the Lady of Lochleven.
 
 THE ABBOT. I6l 
 
 *' Surely," replied the page," according to 
 her Grace's ordinary custom, unless upon 
 the fasts of the church." 
 
 *' The jar," she said, hastily examining 
 it, " it is empty — drank the Lady Mary the 
 whole of this water ?" 
 
 " A large part, madam ; and I heard the 
 Lady Catherine Seyton jestingly upbraid 
 the Lady Mary Fleming with having taken 
 more than a just share of what remained, 
 so that but little fell to her own lot." 
 
 " And are they well in health ?" said the 
 Lady of Lochleven. 
 
 " Lady Fleming," said the page, " com- 
 plains of lethargy, and looks duller than 
 usual ; and the Lady Catherine of Seyton 
 feels her head somewhat more giddy than 
 is her wont." 
 
 He raised his voice a little as he said 
 these words, to apprize the ladies of the 
 part assigned to each of them, and not, per- 
 haps, without the wish of conveying to the 
 ears of Catherine the page-like jest which 
 lurked in the allotment.
 
 162 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " I will enter the Queen's chamber," said 
 the Lady Lochleven, " my business is ex- 
 press." 
 
 As she advanced to the door, the voice 
 of Catherine Seyton was heard from within 
 — *• No one can enter here — the Queen 
 sleeps." 
 
 " I will not be controuled, young lady,'" 
 replied the Lady of Lochleven ; '* there is, 
 I wot, no inner bar, and I will enter in 
 your despite." 
 
 ** There is, indeed, no inner bar," an- 
 swered Catherine firmly, " but there are the 
 staples where that bar should be j and into 
 those staples have I thrust mine arm, like 
 an ancestress of your own, when, better 
 employed than the Douglasses of our days, 
 she thus defended the bed- chamber of her 
 sovereign against murderers. Try your 
 force, then, and see whether a Seyton can- 
 not rival in courage a maiden of the house 
 of Douglas." 
 
 •< I dare not attempt the pass at such 
 risk," said the Lady of Lochleven; " strange,
 
 THE ABBOT. l63 
 
 that this Princess, with all that justly at- 
 taches to her as blameworthy, should pre- 
 serve such empire over the minds of her 
 attendants. — Damsel, I give thee my ho- 
 nour that I come for the Queen's safety 
 and advantage. Awaken her, if thou lovest 
 her, and pray her leave that I may enter — 
 I will retire from the door the whilst." 
 
 '* Thou wilt not awaken the Queen ?" 
 said the Lady Fleming. 
 
 *' What choice have we ?" said the ready- 
 witted maiden, ** unless you deem it better 
 to wait till the Lady Lochleven herself plays 
 lady of the bed-chamber. Her fit of pa- 
 tience will not last long, and the Queen 
 must be prepared to meet her." 
 
 ** But thou wilt bring back her Grace's 
 fit by thus disturbing her." 
 
 ** Heaven forbid !" replied Catherine 5 
 '* but if so, it must pass for an effect of the 
 poison. I hope better things, and that the 
 Queen will be able when she wakes to form 
 her own judgment in this terrible crisis. 
 Meanwhile, do thou, dear Lady Fleming,
 
 164 THE ABBOT. 
 
 practise to look as dull and heavy as the 
 alertness of thy spirit will permit." 
 
 Catherine kneeled by the side of the 
 Queen's bed, and kissing her hand repeated- 
 ly, succeeded at last in awakening without 
 alarming her. She seemed surprised to find 
 that she was ready dressed, but sate up in 
 her bed, and appeared so perfectly compo- 
 sed, that Catherine Seyton, without farther 
 preamble, judged it safe to inform her of 
 the predicament in which they were placed. 
 Mary turned pale, and crossed herself again 
 and again, when she heard the imminent 
 danger in which she had stood. But, like 
 the Ulysses of Homer, 
 
 Hardly waking yet, 
 
 Sprung in her mind the momentary wit^ 
 
 and she at once understood her situation, 
 with the dangers and advantages that at- 
 tended it. 
 
 *' We cannot do better," she said, after 
 her hasty conference with Catherine, press-
 
 THE ABBOT. 165 
 
 ing her at the same time to her bosom, and 
 kissing her forehead ; " we cannot do bet- 
 ter than to follow the scheme so happily 
 devised by thy quick wit and bold affection. 
 Undo the door to the Lady Lochleven — 
 She shall meet her match in art, though not 
 in perfidy. Fleming, draw close the cur- 
 tain, and get thee behind it — thou art a 
 better tire-woman than an actress ; but do 
 but breatlie heavily, and, if thou wilt, groan 
 slightly, and it will top thy part. Hark ! 
 they come. Now, Catherine of Medicis, 
 may thy spirit inspire me, for a cold north- 
 ern brain is too blunt for this scene 1" 
 
 Ushered by Catherine Seyton, and step- 
 ping as light as she could, the Lady Loch- 
 leven was ushered into the twilight apart- 
 ment, and conducted to the side of the 
 couch, where Mary, pallid and exhausted 
 from a sleepless night, and the subsequent 
 agitation of the morning, lay extended so 
 listlessly as might well confirm the worst 
 fears of her hostess.
 
 166 THE ABBOT. 
 
 •' Now, God forgive us our sins 1" said 
 the Lady of Lochleven, forgettingherpride. 
 and throwing herself on her knees by the 
 side of the bed ; " it is too true — she is 
 murdered." 
 
 *• Who is in the chamber ?" said Mary, 
 as if awaking from a heavy sleep ; " Seyton, 
 Fleming, where are you ? I heard a strange 
 voice. "Who waits ? — Call Courselles.'' 
 
 " Alas ! her memory is at Holyrood, 
 though her body is at Lochleven. — For- 
 give, madam," continued the lady *' if I 
 call your attention to me — I am Margaret 
 Erskine, of the house of Mar, by marriage 
 Lady Douglas of Lochleven." 
 
 " O, our gentle hostess," answered the 
 Queen, " who hath such care of our lodg- 
 ings and of our diet — We cumber you too 
 much and too long, good Lady of Loch- 
 leven ; but we now trust your task oi hos- 
 pitality is well nigh ended." 
 
 *' Her words go like a Knife through my 
 heart," said the Lady of Lochleven — " With
 
 THE ABBOT. 167 
 
 a breaking heart, I pray your Grace to tell 
 me what is your ailment, that aid may be 
 had if there be yet time ?" 
 
 ** Nay, my ailment," replied the Queen, 
 " is nothing — nothing worth telling, or 
 worth a leech's notice — my limbs feel heavy 
 — my heart feels cold — a prisoner's limbs 
 and heart are rarely otherwise — fresh air, 
 methinks, and freedom, would soon revive 
 me ; but, as the Estates have ordered it, 
 death alone can break my prison-doors." 
 
 " Were it possible, madam," said the La- 
 dy, " that your liberty could restore your 
 perfect health, I would myself encounter 
 the resentment of the Regent — of my son, 
 Sir William — of my whole friends, rather 
 than you should meet your fate in this 
 castle." 
 
 *' Alas ! madam," said the Lady Fleming, 
 who conceived the time propitious to shew 
 that her own address had been held too 
 lightly of J " it is but trying what good free- 
 dom may work upon us ; for myself, I think
 
 168 THE ABBOT. 
 
 a free walk on the greensward would do 
 me much good at heart." 
 
 The Lady of Lochleven rose from the 
 bed-side, and darted a penetrating look at 
 the elder valetudinary. " Are you so evil- 
 disposed, Lady Fleming?" 
 
 " Evil-disposed indeed, madam," replied 
 the court dame, " and more especially since 
 breakfist." 
 
 " Help ! help !" exclaimed Catherine, 
 anxious to break off a conversation which 
 boded her schemes no good ; " Help ! I 
 say, help ! the Queen is about to pass away. 
 Aid her, Lady Lochleven, if you be a wo- 
 man." 
 
 The lady hastened to support the Queen's 
 head, who, turning her eyes towards her 
 with an air of great languor, exclaimed, 
 " Thanks, my dearest Lady of Lochleven — 
 notwithstanding some passages of late, 1 
 have never misconstrued or misdoubted 
 your affection to our house. It was proved, 
 as I have heard, before I was born." 
 1
 
 THE ABBOT. 169 
 
 The Lady Lochleven sprung from the 
 floor on which she had again knelt, and ha- 
 ving paced the apartment in great disorder, 
 flung open the lattice, as if to get air. 
 
 " Now, Our Lady forgive me!" said Ca- 
 therine to herself ** How deep must the 
 love of sarcasm be implanted in the breasts 
 of us women, since the Queen, with ail her 
 sense, will risk ruin rather than rein in her 
 wit." She then adventured, stooping over 
 the Queen's person, to press her arm with 
 her hand, saying at the same time, ** For 
 God's sake, madam, restrain yourself." 
 
 " Thou art too forward, maiden," said 
 the Queen ; but immediately adde^l, in a 
 low whisper, •' Forgive me, Catherine ; but 
 when I felt the hag's murtherous hands busy 
 about my head and neck, I felt such disgust 
 and hatred, that I must have said something, 
 or died. But I will be schooled to better 
 haviour — only see that thou let her not 
 touch me." 
 
 " Now, God be praised !" said the Lady 
 
 VOL. III. H
 
 170 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Lochleven, withdrawing her head from the 
 window, " the boat comes as fast as sail and 
 oar can send wood through water — It brings 
 the leech and a female — certainly, firom the 
 appearance, the very person I was in quest 
 of. Were she but well out of this castle, 
 with our honour safe, I would that she were 
 on thcitop of the wildest mountain in Nor- 
 way, or I would I had been there myself) 
 ere I had undertaken this trust." 
 
 While she thus expressed herself, stand- 
 ing apart at one window, Roland Graeme, 
 from the other, watched the boat bursting 
 through the waters of the lake, which gh- 
 ded from its side in ripple and in foam. He, 
 too, became sensible, that at the stern was 
 seated the medical Chamberlain, clad in his 
 l)lack velvet cloak ; and that his own rela- 
 tive, Magdalen Gramme, in her assumed cha- 
 racter of Mother Nicneven, stood in the bow, 
 her hands clasped together, and pointed to- 
 wards the castle, and her attitude, even at 
 that distance, expressing enthusiastic eager- 
 ness to arrive at the landing-place. They
 
 THE ABBOT. 171 
 
 arrived there accordingly ; and while the 
 supposed witch was detained in a room be- 
 neath, the physician was ushered to the 
 Queen's apartment, which he entered with 
 all due professional solemnity. Catherine 
 had, in the meanwhile, fallen back from the 
 Queen's bed, and taken an opportunity to 
 whisper to Roland, " Methinks, from the 
 information of the thread-bare velvet cloak 
 and the solemn beard, there would be little 
 trouble in haltering yonder ass. But thy 
 grandmother, Roland — thy grandmother's 
 zeal will ruin us, if she get not a hint to dis- 
 semble." 
 
 Roland, without reply, glided toward the 
 door of the apartment, crossed the parlour, 
 and safely entered the anti-chamber ; but 
 when he attempted to pass farther, the word 
 '•' Back ! Back !" echoed from one to the other, 
 by two men armed with carabines, convin- 
 ced him that the Lady of Lochleven's sus- 
 picions had not, even in the midst of her 
 alarms, been so far lulled to sleep as to omit 
 the precaution of stationing centinels on 
 12
 
 172 THE ABBOT. 
 
 her prisoners. He was compelled, there- 
 fore, to return to the parlour, or audience- 
 chamber, in which he found the lady of the 
 castle in conference with her learned leech, 
 
 *» A truce with your cant phrase and 
 your solemn foppery, Lundin,"in such terms 
 she accosted the man of art, ** and let me 
 know instantly, if thou canst t !1 vvhether 
 this lady hath swallowed aught that is less 
 than wholesome." 
 
 *' Nay, but, good lady — honoured patron- 
 ess — to whom I am alike bondsman in my 
 medical and official capacity, deal reason- 
 ably with me. If this, mine illustrious pa- 
 tient, will not answer a question, saving 
 wuth sighs and moans — if that other honour- 
 able lady will do nought but yawn in my 
 face when I enquire after the diagnostics — 
 and if that other young damsel, who I pro- 
 fess is a comely maiden" 
 
 " Talk not to me of comeliness or of 
 damsels," said the Lady of Lochleven, ** I 
 say, are they evil- disposed ? — In one word, 
 man, have they taken poison, ay or no ?"'
 
 THE ABBOT. 173 
 
 " Poisons, madam," said the learned leech, 
 " are of various sorts. There is your animal 
 poison, as the lepus marimis, as mentioned 
 by Dioscorides and Galen — there are mine- 
 ral and semi-mineral poisons, as those com- 
 pounded of sublimate regulus of antimony, 
 vitriol, and the arsenical salts — there are 
 your poisons from herbs and vegetables, as 
 the aqua cymbalariae^ opium, aconitum, can- 
 tharides, and the like — there are also" 
 
 *' Now, out upon thee for a learned fool 1 
 and I myself am no better for expecting an 
 oracle from such a log," said the lady. 
 
 " Nay, but if your ladyship will have pa- 
 tience — if I knew what food they have par- 
 taken of, or could see but the remnants of 
 what they have last eaten — for as to the ex- 
 ternal and internal symptoms, I can disco- 
 ver nought like ; for, as Galen saith in his 
 
 second book de Antidotes" 
 
 " Away, fool!" said the lady j '^ send me 
 that hag hither j she shall avouch what it 
 was that she hath given to the wretch
 
 174 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Dryfesdale, or the pilniewinks and thumbi- 
 kins shall wrench it outof her finger-joints/' 
 
 " Art hath no enemy unless the igno- 
 rant," said the mortified Doctor ; veiling, 
 however, his remark under the Latin ver- 
 sion, and stepping apart into a corner to 
 watch the result. 
 
 In a minute or two, Magdalen Grseme 
 entered the apartment, dressed as we have 
 described her at the revel, but with her 
 muffler thrown back, and all affectation of 
 disguise. She was attended by two guards, 
 of whose presence she did not seem even 
 to be conscious, and who followed her with 
 an air of embarrassment and timidity, which 
 was probably owing to their belief in her 
 supernatural power, coupled with the eflect 
 produced by her bold and undaunted de- 
 meanour. She confronted the Lady of 
 Lochleven, who seemed to endure with 
 high disdain the confidence of her look antl 
 manner. 
 '♦ Wretched cman !" said the Lady> after
 
 THE ABBOT. 175 
 
 essaying for a moment to bear her down, be- 
 fore she addressed her, by the stately severi- 
 ty of her look, ** what was that powder which 
 thou didst give to a servant of this house, 
 by name Robert Dryfesdale, that he might 
 work out with it some slow and secret ven- 
 geance ? — Confess its nature and properties, 
 or, by the honour of Douglas, I give thee 
 to fire and stake before the sun is lower 1" 
 
 ♦« Alas 1" said Magdalen Graeme in reply, 
 *' and when became a Douglas or a Dou- 
 glas's man so unfurnished of his means of 
 revenge, that he should seek them at the 
 hands of a poor and solitary vy-oman? The 
 towers in which your captives pine away 
 into unpitied graves, yet stand fast on the 
 foundation — the crimes wrought in them 
 have not yet burst their vaults asunder — 
 your men have still their cross-bows, pis- 
 tolets, and daggers — why need you seek 
 to herbs or charms for the execution of 
 your revenges ?" 
 
 «* Hear me, foul hag," said the Lady of 
 Lochleven, — '* but what avails speaking to
 
 176 THE ABBOT. 
 
 thee ? — Bring Dryfesdale hither, and let 
 them be confronted together." 
 
 '* You may spare your retainers the la- 
 bour," replied Magdalen Greeme. *' I came 
 not here to be confronted with a base 
 groom, nor to answer the interrogatories of 
 James's heretical leman — I came to speak 
 ^^ith the Queen of Scotland — Give place 
 there !" 
 
 And while the Lady of Lochleven stood 
 confounded at her boldness, and at the re- 
 proach she had cast upon her, Magdalen 
 Grsme strode past her into the bed-cham- 
 ber of the Queen, and kneeling on the floor, 
 made a salutation as ifj in the Oriental fa- 
 shion, she meant to touch the earth with 
 her forehead. 
 
 '* Hail, Princess 1" she said, '• hail daugh- 
 ter of many a king, but graced above them 
 all in that thou art called to suffer for the 
 t.ae faith 1 — liail to thee, the pure gold of 
 whose crown has been tried in the seven- 
 times heated furnace ot affliction — hear the 
 co.nfort which God and Our Lady send
 
 THE ABBOT. 177 
 
 thee by the mouth of thy unworthy ser- 
 vant. — But first," and stooping her head 
 she crossed herself repeatedly, and, still up- 
 on her knees, appeared to be rapidly reci- 
 ting some formula of devotion. 
 
 " Seize her and drag her to the Massy- 
 more ! — To the deepest dungeon with the 
 sorceress, whose master, the Devil, could 
 alone have inspired her with boldness 
 enough to insult the mother of Douglas in 
 his own castle." 
 
 Thus spoke the incensed Lady of Loch- 
 leven, but the physician presumed to inter- 
 pose. 
 
 " I pray of you, honoured madam, she 
 be permitted to take her course without in- 
 terruption. Peradventure, we shall learn 
 something concerning the nostrum she hath 
 ventured, contrary to law and the rules of 
 art, to adhibit to these ladies, through the 
 medium of the steward Dryfesdale." 
 
 «* For a fool," replied the Lady of Loch- 
 leven, ** thou hast counselled wisely — I 
 H 2
 
 178 THE ABBOT. 
 
 will bridle ray resentment till their confe- 
 rence be over." 
 
 " God forbid, honoured lady," said Doc- 
 tor Lundin, " that you should suppress it 
 longer — nothing may more endanger the 
 frame of your honoured body ; and truly, 
 if there be witchcraft in this matter, it is 
 held by the vulgar, and even by solid authors 
 on Daemonology, that three scruples of the 
 ashes of the witch, when she hath been wel! 
 and carefully burned at a stake, is a grand 
 Catholicon in such matter, even as they 
 prescribe crinis canis ruhidi^ a hair of the 
 dog that bit the patient, in cases of hydro- 
 phobia. I warrant neither treatment, being 
 cut of the regular practice of the schools ; 
 but in the present case, there can be little 
 harm in trying the conclusion upon this old 
 necromancer and quack-salver— ^a^ etn-pc- 
 rimentum (as we say) in corpore vili.'" 
 
 ♦< Peace, fool !" said the Lady, " she is 
 about to speak." 
 
 At that moment Magdalen Greeme arose 
 from her knees, and turned her countenance
 
 THE ABBOT. 179 
 
 on the Queen, at the same tune advancinpj 
 her foot, extending her arm, and assuming 
 the mien and attitude of a Sybil in frenzy. 
 As her grey hair floated back from under 
 her coif, and her eye gleamed fire from un- 
 der its shaggy eye-brow, the effect of her 
 expressive, though emaciated features, was 
 heightened by an enthusiasm approaching 
 to insanity, and her appearance struck wii'i 
 awe all who were present. Her eyes for a 
 time glanced wildly around, as if seeking 
 for something to aid her in collecting her 
 powers of expression, and her lips had a 
 nervous and quivering motion, as those of 
 one who would fain speak, yet rejects as 
 inadequate the words which present them- 
 selves. 2vlary herself caught the infection, 
 as if by a sort of magnetic influence, and 
 raising herself from her bed, without b^'ing 
 able to withdraw her eyes from those of Mag. 
 dalen, v.-aited as if for the oracle of a Pytho- 
 ness, She waited not long ; for no soOiier hail 
 the enthusiast collected herself, than her 
 gaze became intensely steady, her features
 
 180 THE ABBOr. 
 
 assumed a determined energy, and no sooner 
 did she begin to speak, than the words flow- 
 ed from her with a profuse fluency, which 
 might have passed for inspiration, and which, 
 perhaps, she herself mistook for such. 
 
 " Arise," she said, *' Queen of France 
 and of England ! Arise, lioness of Scotland, 
 and be not dismayed, though the nets of 
 the hunters have encircled thee ! Stoop not 
 to feign with the false ones, whom thou shalt 
 soon meet in the field. The issue of battle 
 is with the god of armies, but by battle thy 
 cause shall be tried. Lay aside, then, the 
 arts of lower mortals, and assume those 
 which become a Queen ! True defender of 
 the only true faith, the armoury of heaven 
 is open to thee ! Faithful daughter of the 
 Church, take the keys of St Peter, to bind 
 and to loose ! — Royal Princess of the land, 
 take the sword of Saint Paul, to smite and 
 to shear i There is darkness in thy destiny ; — 
 but not in these towers, not under the rule 
 of their haughty mistress, shall that destiny 
 be closed — In other lands the lioness may
 
 THE ABBOT. 181 
 
 crouch to the power of the tigress, but not 
 in her own — not in Scotland shall the Queen 
 of Scotland long remain captive — nor is the 
 fate of the royal Stuart in the hands of the 
 traitor Douglas. Let the Lady of Loch- 
 leven double her bolts and deepen her dun- 
 geons, they shall not retain thee — each ele- 
 ment shall give thee its assistance ere thou 
 shalt continue captive — the land shall lend 
 its earthquakes, the water its waves, the air 
 its tempests, the fire its devouring flames, 
 to desolate this house, rather than it shall 
 continue the place of thy captivity. — Hear 
 this and tremble, all ye who fight against 
 the light, for she says it, to whom it hath 
 been assured !" 
 
 She was silent, and the astonished physi- 
 cian said, '* If there was ever an Energu- 
 mene, or possessed Demoniac, in our days, 
 there is a devil speaking with that woman's 
 tongue." 
 
 " Practice," said the Lady of Lochleven, 
 recovering her surprise j " here is all prac-
 
 182 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tice and imposture — To the dungeon with 
 her!" 
 
 '* Lady ofLochleven," said Mary, arisin.^^ 
 from her bed, and coming forward with her 
 wonted dignity, " ere you make arrest on 
 any one in our presence, hear me but one 
 word. I have done you some wrong — I be- 
 lieved you privy to the murderous purpose 
 of your vassal, and I deceived you in siifi'er- 
 ing you to beheve it had taken effect. I 
 did you wrong, Lady of Lochleven, for I 
 perceive your purpose to aid me was sin- 
 cere. We tasted not of the h'quid, nor are 
 we now sick, save that we languish for our 
 freedom." 
 
 '♦ It is avowed like iMary of Scotland,'" 
 said Magdalen Gramme ; " and know, be- 
 sides, that had the Queen drained the 
 draught to the dregs, it was harmless as 
 the water from a sainted spring. Trow ye, 
 proud woman," she added, addressing her- 
 self to the Lady ofLochleven, " that I — I 
 — would have been the wretch to put poi-
 
 THE ABBOT. 183 
 
 son in the hands of a servant or vassal of the 
 House of Lochleven, knowing whom that 
 house contained ? as soon would I have fur- 
 nished drug to slay my own daughter." 
 
 " Am I thus bearded in mine own castle," 
 said the Lady j " to the dungeon with her ! 
 — she shall abye what is due to the vender of 
 poisons and practiser of witchcrafts." 
 
 *' Yet hear me for an instant, Lady of 
 Lochleven," said 3-Iary ; *' and do you," to 
 Magda'en, ** be silent at my command.— 
 Your steward, lady, has by confession at- 
 tempted my life, and those of my house- 
 hold, and this woman hath done her best to 
 save them, by furnishing him with what was 
 harmless, in place of the fatal drugs which 
 he expected. JNIethinks I propose to you 
 but a fair exchange, when 1 say I forgive 
 your vassal with all my heart, and leave 
 vengeance to God, and to his conscience, 
 so that you also forgive the boldness of this 
 woman in your presence ; for we trust you 
 do not hold it as a crime, that she substi^
 
 184 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tuted an innocent beverage for the mortal 
 poison which was to have drenched our 
 cup." 
 
 "Heaven forefend, madam," said the Lady, 
 " that I should account that a crime which 
 saved the house of Douglas from a foul 
 breach of honour and hospitality ! We have 
 written to our son touching our vassal's de- 
 lict, and he must abide his doom, which 
 will most likely be death. Touching this 
 woman, her trade is damnable by Scripture, 
 and is mortally punished by the wise laws 
 of our ancestry — she also must abide her 
 doom." 
 
 ** And have I then," said the Queen, " no 
 claim on the house of Lochleven for the 
 wrong I have so nearly suffered within their 
 walls ? I ask but in requital, the life of a frail 
 and aged woman, whose brain, as yourself 
 may judge, seems somewhat affected by 
 years and suffering." 
 
 " If the Lady Mary," replied the inflexi- 
 ble Lady of Lochleven, *♦ hath been mena-
 
 THE ABBOT. 185 
 
 ced with wrong in the house of Douglas, it 
 miiy be regarded as some compensation, that 
 her complots have cost that house the exile 
 of a valued son." 
 
 ** Plead no more for me, my gracious 
 Sovereign," said Magdalen Graeme, *• nor 
 abase yourself to ask so much as a grey 
 hair of my head at her hands I knew the 
 risk at which I served my Church and my 
 Queen, and was ever prompt to pay my poor 
 life as the ransom. It is a comfort to think, 
 that in slaying me, or in restraining my free- 
 dom, or even in injuring that single grey 
 hair, the house, whose honour she boasts 
 so highly, will have filled up the measure 
 of their shame by the breach of their so- 
 lemn written assurance of safety." — And 
 taking from her bosom a paper, she handed 
 it to the Queen. 
 
 ** It is a solemn assurance of safety in 
 life and limb," said Queen Mary, '• with 
 space to come and to go, under the hand 
 and seal of the Chamberlain of Kinross,
 
 186 THE ABBOT. 
 
 granted to Magdalen Gramme, commonly 
 called Mother Nicneven, in consideration 
 of her consenting to put herself, for the 
 space of twenty-four hours, if required, with- 
 in the iron gate of the Castle of Lochle- 
 ven." 
 
 <' Knave !" said the lady, turning to the 
 Chamberlain, " how dared you grant her 
 such a protection ?" 
 
 " It was by your ladyship's orders, trans- 
 mitted by Randal, as he can bear witness," 
 replied Doctor Lundin j " nay, I am only 
 like the pharmacopolist, who compounds 
 the drugs after the order of the mediciner." 
 
 " I remember — I remember," answered 
 the Lady ; " but I meant the assurance only 
 to be used in case, by residing in another 
 jurisdiction, she could not have been ap- 
 prehended under our warrant." 
 
 ** Nevertheless," said the Queen, " the 
 Lady of Lochleven is bound by the action 
 of her deputy in granting the assurance." 
 
 <' Madam," repHed the Lady, <' the house
 
 THE ABBOT. 187 
 
 of Douglas have never broken their safe- 
 conduct and never will do — too deeply did 
 they suffer by such a breach of trust, exer- 
 cised on themselves when your Grace's an- 
 cestor, the second James, in defiance of the 
 rights of hospitality, and of his own written 
 assurance of safety, poniarded the brave 
 Earl of Douglas with his own hand, and 
 within two yards of the social board, at 
 which he had just before sat the King of 
 Scotland's honoured guest." 
 
 '* Methinks," said the Queen, carelessly, 
 " in consideration of so very recent and 
 enormous a tragedy, which I think only 
 chanced some six score years agone, the 
 Douglasses should have shewn themselves 
 less tenacious of the company of their sove- 
 reigns, than you, Lady of Lochleven, seem 
 to be of mine." 
 
 ♦♦Let Randal," said the Lady, " take the hag 
 back to Kinross, and set her at full liberty, 
 discharging her from our bounds in future, 
 on peril of her head. — And let your wis- 
 dom," to the Chamberlain, *' keep her com-
 
 188 THE ABBOT. 
 
 pany. And fear not for your character, 
 though I send you in such company ; for, 
 granting her to be a witch, it would be a 
 waste of faggots to burn you for a wizard." 
 The crest-fallen Chamberlain was prepa- 
 ring to depart ; but Magdalen Graeme, col- 
 lecting herself, was about to reply, when the 
 Queen interposed, saying, " Good mother, 
 we heartily thank you for your unfeigned 
 zeal towards our person, and pray you, as our 
 liege-woman,thatyouabstainfi:om whatever 
 may lead you into personal danger ; and, 
 further, it is our will that you depart with- 
 out a word of farther parley with any one in 
 this castle. For thy present guerdon, take 
 this small reliquary — it was given to us by 
 our uncle the Cardinal, and hath hati the 
 benediction of the Holy Father himself — 
 and now depart in peace and in silence. — 
 For you, learned sir," continued the Queen, 
 advancing to the doctor, who made his re- 
 verence in a manner doubly embarrassed 
 by the awe of the Queen's presence, which 
 made him fear to do too little, and by the
 
 THE ABBOT. 189 
 
 apprehension of his lady's displeasure, in 
 case he should chance to do too much ; 
 *' for you, learned sir, as it was not your 
 fault, though surely our own good fortune, 
 that we did not need your skill at this time, 
 it would not become us, however circum- 
 stanced, to suffer our leech to leave us with- 
 out such guerdon as we can offer." 
 
 With these words, and with the grace 
 which never forsook her, though, in the pre- 
 sent case, there might lurk under it a little 
 gentle ridicule, she offered a small embroi- 
 dered purse to the Chamberlain, who, with 
 extended hand and arched back, his learn- 
 ed face stooping until a physiognomist 
 might have practised the metoscopical 
 science upon if, as seen from behind be- 
 twixt his gambadoes, was about to accept 
 of the professional recompence, offered by 
 so fair as well as illustrious an hand. But 
 the Lady interposed, and, regarding the 
 Chamberlain, said aloud, ** No servant of 
 our house, without instantly relinquishing 
 13
 
 190 THE ABBOT. 
 
 that character, and incurring withal our 
 highest displeasure, shall dare receive any 
 gratuity at the hand of" the Lady Mary." 
 
 Sadly and slowly the Chamberlain raised 
 his depressed stature into the perpendicu- 
 lar attitude, and left the apartment deject- 
 edly, followed by Magdalen Gro2me, after, 
 with mute but expressive gesture, she had 
 kissed the reliquary with which the Queen 
 had presented her, and raising her clcisped 
 hands and uplifted eyes towards Heaven, had 
 seemed to entreat a benediction upon tiie 
 royal dame. As she left the castle and 
 went towards the quay where the boat lay, 
 Roland Graame, anxious to communicate 
 with her if possible, threw himself in lier 
 way, and might have succeeded in excliar- 
 ging a few words with her, as she was guard- 
 ed only by the dejected Chamberlain and 
 his halberdiers ; but she seemed to have 
 taken, in its most rstrict and literal accep- 
 tation, the command to be silent, whicl? 
 she had received from the Queen, for, to
 
 THE ABBOT. 191 
 
 the repeated signs of her grandson, she 
 only replied by laying her finger on her 
 lip. Dr Lundin was not so reserved. Re- 
 gret for the handsome gratuity, and for the 
 compulsory task of self-denial imposed on 
 him, had grieved the spirit of that wor- 
 thy officer and learned mediciner — '' Even 
 thus, my friend," said he, squeezing the 
 page's hand as he bade him farewell, " is 
 merit rewarded. I came to cure this un- 
 happy lady — and I profess she well deserves 
 the trouble, for say what they will of her, 
 she hath a most winning manner, a sweet 
 voice, a gracious smile, and a most majes- 
 tic wave of her hand. If she was not poi- 
 soned, say, my dear Master Roland, was 
 that fault of mine, I being ready to cure 
 her if she had? — and now I am denied tlie 
 permission to accept my well-earned ho- 
 norarium — O Galen ! O Hippocrates ! is 
 the graduate's cap and doctor's scarlet 
 brought to this pass ! Fru^tra fatigamus 
 rcmediis cegros''
 
 192 THE ABBOT. 
 
 He wiped his eyes, stepped on the gun- 
 wale, and the boat pushed off from the 
 shore, and went merrily across the lake, 
 which was dimpled by the summer wind.
 
 THE ABBOT. 193 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Death distant ? — No, alas ! he's ever with us. 
 And shakes the dart at us in all our actings : 
 He lurks within our cup, while we're in health ; 
 Sits by our sick-bed, mocks our medicines ; 
 We cannot walk, or sit, or ride, or travel. 
 But Death is bye to seize us when he lists. 
 
 The Spanish Failter. 
 
 From the agitating scene in the Queen's 
 presence-chamber, the Lady of Lochleven 
 retreated to her own apartnnent, and order- 
 ed the steward to be called before her. 
 
 *• Have they not disarmed thee, Dryfes- 
 dale ?" she said, on seeing him enter ac- 
 coLitered, as usual, with sword and dagger. 
 
 " No !" replied the old man ; " how should 
 they? — Your ladyship, when you com- 
 manded me to ward, said nought of laying 
 down my arms ; and, I think, none of your 
 
 VOL. Ill, I
 
 194 THE ABBOT. 
 
 menials, without your order, or your son's, 
 dare approach Jasper Dryfesdale for such 
 a purpose. Shall I now give up my sword 
 to you ? — it is worth little now, for it has 
 fought for your house till it is worn down 
 to cold iron, like the pantler's old chipping 
 knife." 
 
 *' You have attempted a deadly crime — 
 poison under trust." 
 
 *' Under trust ! — hem. — I know not what 
 your ladyship thinks of it, but the world 
 without thinks the trust was given you even 
 for that very end ; and you would have been 
 well off' had it been so ended, as I proposed, 
 and you neither the worse nor the wiser." 
 
 " Wretch !" exclaimed the Lady, " and 
 fool as villain, who could not even execute 
 the crime he had planned !" 
 
 '• I bid as fair for it as man could," re- 
 plied Dryfesdale ; " I went to a woman — 
 a witch and a papist — If I found not poison, 
 it was because it was otherwise predestined. 
 1 tried fair for it ; but the half done job 
 may be clouted, if you will."
 
 THE ABBuT. 195 
 
 *' Villain ! I am even now about to send 
 offan express messenger to my son, to take 
 order how thou shouldst be disposed of. 
 Prepare thyself for death, if thou canst." 
 
 '' He that looks on death, lady," answer- 
 ed Dryfesdale, " as that which he may not 
 shun, and which has its own fixed and cer- 
 tain hour, is ever prepared for it. He that 
 is hanged in May will eat no flaunes in Mid- 
 summer — so there is the moan made for the 
 old serving-man. But whom, pray I, send 
 you on so fair an errand ?" 
 
 *• There will be no lack of messengers," 
 answered his mistress. 
 
 " By my hand, but there will," replied 
 the old man ; " your castle is but poorly 
 manned, considering the watches that you 
 must keep, having this charge — There is 
 the warder, and two others, whom you dis. 
 carded for tampering with Master George ; 
 then for the warder's tower, the baillie, the 
 donjon — five men mount each guard, and 
 the rest must sleep for the most part in their 
 clothes. To send away another man, were
 
 196 THE ABBOT. 
 
 to harass the centinels to death — unthrifty 
 misuse for a household. To take in new 
 soldiers were dangerous, the charge re- 
 quiring tried men. I see but one thing for 
 it — 1 will do your errand to Sir William 
 Douglas myself." 
 
 '* That were indeed a resource ! — And on 
 what day within twenty years would it be 
 done ?" said the Lady. 
 
 " Even with the speed of man and horse," 
 said Diyfesdale ; "for though I care not 
 much about the latter days of an old ser- 
 ving man's life, yet I would like to know as 
 soon as may be whether my neck is mine 
 own, or the hangman's." 
 
 «* Holdest thou thy own life so lightly r" 
 said the Lady. 
 
 *• Else I had recked more of that of 
 others," said the predestinarian — " What is 
 death ? — it is but ceasing to live — And what 
 is living ? — a weary return of light and 
 darkness, sleeping and waking, being hun- 
 gered and eating. Your dead man needs 
 neither candle nor cann, neither fire nor
 
 THE ABBOT. 197 
 
 feather-bed ; and the joiner's chest serves 
 him for an eternal freize-jerkin." 
 
 " Wretched man ! believest thou not that 
 after the death comes the judgment ?" 
 
 *' Lady," answered Dryfesdale, ** as my 
 mistress, I may not dispute your words; but, 
 as spiritually speaking, you are still but a 
 burner of bricks in Egypt, ignorant of the 
 freedom of the saints ; for, as was well 
 shewn to me by that gifted man, Nicolaus 
 Schcefferbach, who was martyred by the 
 bloody Bishop of Munster, he cannot sin 
 who doth but execute that which is pre- 
 destined, since" 
 
 " Silence !" said the Lady, interrupting 
 him — *< Answer me not with thy bold and 
 presumptuous blasphemy, but hear me — 
 Thou hast been long the servant of our 
 house" 
 
 " The born-servant of the Douglas — they 
 have had the best of me — I served them 
 since I left Lockerbie : I was then ten years 
 old, and you may soon add the threescore 
 to it."
 
 198 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Thy foul attempt has miscarried, so 
 thou art guilty only in intention. It were 
 a deserved deed to hang thee on the war- 
 der's tower ; and yet, in thy present mind, 
 it were but giving a soul to Satan. I take 
 thine offer, then — Go hence — here is my 
 packet — I will add to it but a line, to de- 
 sire him to send me a faithful servant or 
 two to complete the garrison. Let my son 
 deal with you as he will. If thou art wise, 
 thou wilt make for Lockerbie so soon as 
 thy foot touches dry land, and let the 
 packet find another bearer ; at all rates, 
 look it miscarries not." 
 
 " Nay, madam," replied he — " I was 
 born, as I said, the Douglasses' servant, and 
 I will be no corbie-messenger in mine old 
 age — your message to your son shall be 
 done as truly by me as if it concerned an- 
 other man's neck. I take my leave of your 
 honour." 
 
 The Lady issued her commands, and the 
 old man was ferried over to the shore, to 
 proceed in his extraordinary pilgrimage. It 
 is necessary tlie reader should accompany
 
 THE ABBOT. 199 
 
 him on liis journey, which Providence had 
 determined should not be of long duration. 
 
 On arriving at the village, the steward, 
 although his disgrace had transpired, was 
 readily accommodated with a horse, by the 
 Chamberlain's authority ; and the roads 
 being by no means esteemed safe, he as- 
 sociated himself with Auchtermuchty, the 
 common carrier, in order to travel in his 
 company to Edinburgh. 
 
 The worthy waggoner, according to the 
 established custom of all carriers, stage- 
 coachmen, and other persons in such pub- 
 lic authority, from the earliest days to the 
 present, never wanted good reasons for 
 stopping upon the road, as often and wherc- 
 ever he would ; and the place which had 
 most captivation for him as a resting-place 
 was a change- house, as it was termed, not 
 very distant from a romantic dell, well 
 known by the name of Keirie Craigs. At- 
 tractions of a kind very different from those 
 which arrested the progress of John Auch- 
 termuchty and his wains, still continue to
 
 200 THE ABBOT. 
 
 hover round this romantic spot, and none 
 has visited its vicinity without a desire to 
 remain long and to return soon. 
 
 Arrived near his favourite howff, not all 
 the authority of Dryfesdale (much diminish- 
 ed indeed by the rumours of his disgrace) 
 couki prevail on the carrier, obstinate as 
 the brutes which he drove, to pass on with- 
 out his accustomed halt, for which the dis- 
 tance he had travelled furnished little or 
 no pretence. Old Keltic, the landlord, 
 who has bestowed his name on a bridge in 
 the neighbourhood of his quondam dwell- 
 ing, received the carrier with his usual fes- 
 tive cordiality, and adjourned with him into 
 the house, under pretence of important 
 business, which, I believe, consisted in their 
 emptying together a mutchkin stoup of us- 
 quebaugh. While the worthy host and his 
 guest were thus employed, the discarded 
 steward, with a double portion of morose- 
 ness in his gesture and look, walked discon- 
 tentedly into the kitchen of the place, which 
 was occupied but by one guest. The stran-
 
 THE ABBOT. 201 
 
 ger was a slight figure, scarce above the age 
 of boyhood, and in the dress of a page, but 
 bearincT an air of haughty aristocratic bold- 
 ness and even insolence in his look and man- 
 ner, that might have made Dryfesdale con- 
 clude he had pretensions to superior rank, 
 had not his experience taught him how fre- 
 quently these airs of superiority were assu- 
 med by the domestics and military retainers 
 of the Scottish nobility. — ** The pilgrim's 
 morning to you, old sir," said the youth ; 
 " you come, as I think, from Lochleven 
 Castle — What news of our bonnie Queen? — 
 a fairer dove was never pent up in so wretch- 
 ed a dove-cot." 
 
 *' They that speak of Lochleven, and of 
 those whom its walls contain,' answered 
 Dryfesdale, ** speak of what concerns the 
 Douglas ; and they who speak of what con- 
 cerns the Douglas, do it at their peril." 
 
 " Do you speak from fear of them, old 
 man, or would you make a quarrel for them ? 
 — I should have deemed your age might 
 have cooled your blood." 
 I 2
 
 202 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ** Never, while there are empty- pated 
 coxcombs at each corner to keep it warm." 
 
 *' The sight of thy grey hairs keeps mine 
 cold," said the boy, who had risen up and 
 now sat down again. 
 
 " It is well for thee, or I had cooled it 
 with this holly-rod," replied the steward. 
 " 1 think thou be'st one of those swash- 
 bucklers, who brawl in ale-houses and ta- 
 verns ; and who, if words were pikes, and 
 oaths were Andrew Ferraras, would soon 
 place the religion of Babylon in the land 
 once more, and the woman of Moab upon 
 the throne." 
 
 " Now, by Sdint Bennet of Seyton," said 
 the youth, •♦ I will strike thee on the face, 
 thou foul-mouthed old railing heretic 1" 
 
 " Saint Bennet of Seyton !" echoed the 
 steward ; •* a proper warrant is Saint Ben- 
 net's, and for a proper nest of woU-birds 
 like the Seytons — I will arrest thee as a 
 traitor to King James and the good Regent. 
 
 Ho ! John Auchtermuchty, raise aid 
 
 against the King's traitor '"
 
 THE ABBOT. 203 
 
 So saying, he laid his hand on the youth's 
 collar, and drew his sword. John Auchter- 
 muchty looked in, but, seeing the naked 
 weapon, ran faster out thanhe entered. Kel- 
 tie, the landlord, stood by and helped nei- 
 ther party, only exclaiming, •* Gentlemen ! 
 gentlemen ! for the love of Heaven !" and 
 so forth. A struggle ensued, in which the 
 young man, chafed atDryfesdale's boldness, 
 and unable, with the ease he expected, to 
 extricate himself from the old man's deter- 
 mined grasp, drew his dagger, and, with the 
 speed of light, dealt him three wounds in 
 the breast and body, the least of which was 
 mortal. The old man sunk on the ground 
 with a deep groan, and the host set up a 
 piteous exclamation of surprise. 
 
 '* Peace, ye bawling hound !" said the 
 wounded steward ; " are dagger-stabs and 
 .dying men such rarities in Scotlar>d, that 
 you should cry as if the house were falling .? 
 — Youth, I do not forgive thee, for there 
 is nought betwixt us to forgive. Thou hast
 
 204 THE ABBOT. 
 
 done what I have done to more than one — 
 And I suffer what I have seen them suffer 
 — it was all ordained to be thus and not 
 otherwise — But if" thou wouldst do me 
 right, thou wiit send this packet safely to 
 the hands of" Sir William of Douglas; and 
 see that my memory suffer not, as if I would 
 have loitered on mine errand for fear of my 
 life." 
 
 The youth, whose passion had subsided 
 tiie instant he had done the deed, listened 
 with sympatliy and attention, when another 
 person, muffled in his cloik, entered the 
 apartment, and exclaimed — " Good God ! 
 Dryfesdale, and expiring!" 
 
 *' Ay, and Dryfesdale would that he had 
 been dead," answered the wounded man, 
 " rather than that his ears had heard the 
 words of the only Douglas that ever was 
 false — but yet it is better as it is. Good my 
 murderer, and the rest of you, stand back 
 a little, and let me speak with this un- 
 happy apostate. — Kneel down by me, Mas- 
 ter George — You have heard that I fail- 
 3
 
 THE ABBOT. 205 
 
 ed ill my attempt, to take away thatMoa- 
 bitish stumbling-block and her retinue — 
 I gave them that which I thought would 
 have removed the temptation out of thy 
 path — and this, though I had other reasons 
 to shew to thy mother and others, I did 
 chiefly purpose for the love of thee." 
 
 •' For the love of me, base poisoner ! 
 Wouldst thou liave committed so horrible, 
 so unprovoked a murder, and mentioned 
 my name with it ?" 
 
 *' And wherefore not, George of Dou» 
 glas ?" answered Dryfesdale. " Breath is 
 now scarce with me, but I would spend my 
 last gasp on this argument. Hast thou not, 
 despite the honour thou owest to thy pa- 
 rents, the faith that is due to thy religion, 
 the truth that is due to thy King, been so 
 carried away by the charms of this beauti- 
 ful sorceress, that thou wouldst have help- 
 ed her to escape from her prison-house, and 
 again to ascend the throne, which she had 
 made a place of abomination? — Nay,stir not
 
 206 THE ABBOT. 
 
 from me — my hand, though fast stiffening^ 
 has yet force enough to hold thee. — What 
 dost thou aim at ? — to wed this witch of 
 Scotland ? — I warrant thee, thou mayst suc- 
 ceed — her heart and hand have been oft 
 won at a cheaper rate, than thou, foal that 
 thou art, would think thyself happy to pay. 
 But, should a servant of thy father's house 
 have seen thee embrace the fate of tlie 
 idiot Darnley, or of the villain Bothwell — 
 the fate of the murdered fool, or of the 
 living pirate — while an ounce of rat's bane 
 would have saved thee ?" 
 
 "Think on God, Dryfesdale,"said George 
 Douglas, *' and leave the utterance of those 
 horrors — Repent if thou canst — if not, at 
 least be silent. — Seyton, aid me to support 
 this dying wretch, that he may compose 
 himself to better thoughts, if it be possible." 
 
 •' Seyton ! ' answered the dying man ; 
 " Seyton ! Is it by a Seyton's hand that I 
 fall at last ? — there is something of retribu- 
 tion in that — since the house had nigh lost
 
 THE ABBOT. 207 
 
 a sister by my deed." Fixing his fading eyes 
 on the youth, he added, *« He hath her very 
 features and presence ! — Stoop down, youth, 
 and let me see thee closer — I would know 
 thee when we meet in yonder world, for ho- 
 micides will herd together there, and 1 have 
 been one." He pulled Seyton's face, in 
 spite of some resistance, closer to his own, 
 looked at him fixedly, and added, " Thou 
 hast begun young — thy career will be the 
 briefer — ay, thou wilt be met with, and that 
 anon — a young plant never throve that was 
 watered with an old man's blood. — Yet why 
 blame I thee ? Strange turns of fate," he 
 muttered, ceasing to address Seyton, *' I 
 designed what 1 could not do, and he has 
 done what he did not perchance design. — 
 Wondrous, that our will should ever oppose 
 itself to the strong and uncontroulable tide 
 of destiny — that we should strive with the 
 stream when we might drift with the cur- 
 rent ! My brain will serve me to question 
 it no farther — I would Schcrflferbach were 
 here — yet why ? — I am on a course which
 
 208 THE ABDOr. 
 
 the vessel can hold without a pilot. — Fare- 
 well, George of Douglas — I die true to thy 
 father's house." He fell into convulsions 
 at these words, and shortly after expired. 
 
 Seyton and Douglas stood looking on the 
 dying man, and when the scene was closed, 
 the former was the first to speak. '' As 1 
 live, Douglas, I meant not this, and am sor- 
 ry ; but he laid hands on me, and compel- 
 led me to defend my freedom, as I best 
 might, with my dagger. If he were ten 
 times thy friend and follower, I can but say- 
 that I am sorry." 
 
 " I blame thee not, Seyton," said Dou- 
 glas, " though I lament the chance — There 
 is an over-ruling destiny above us, though 
 not in the sense of that wretched man, who, 
 beguiled by some foreign mystagogue, used 
 tlie awful word as the ready apology for 
 whatever he chose to do — we must examine 
 the packet." 
 
 They withdrew into an inner room, and 
 remained deep in consultation, until they 
 were disturbed by the entrance of Keltic,
 
 THE ABBOT. 209 
 
 who, with an embarrassed countenance, ask- 
 ed Master. George Douglas's pleasure re- 
 specting the disposal of the body. " Your 
 honour knows," he added, *• that I make my 
 bread by living men, not by dead corpses ; 
 and old Mr Dryfesdale, who was but a sor- 
 ry customer while he was alive, occupies my 
 public room now that he is deceased, and 
 can neither call for ale noi' brandy." 
 
 *♦ Tie a stone round his neck," said Sey- 
 ton, *• and when the sun is down, have him 
 to the Loch of Cleish ; heave him. in, and 
 let him alone for finding out the bottom." 
 
 " Under your favour, sir," said George 
 Douglas, " it shall not be so. — Keltic, thou 
 art a true fellow to me, and thy having been 
 so shall advantage thee. Send or take the 
 body to the church of Ballingry, and tell 
 what tale thou wilt of his having fallen in 
 a brawl with some unruly guests of thine. 
 Auchtermuchty knows nought else, nor 
 are the times so peaceful as to admit close 
 looking into such accounts."
 
 210 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Nay, let him tell the truth," said Sey- 
 
 ton, " so far as it harms not our scheme 
 
 Say that Henry Seyton met with him, my 
 good fellow — I care not a brass bodle for 
 the feud." 
 
 " A feud with the Douglas was ever to 
 be feared, however," said George, displea- 
 sure mingling with his natural deep gravity 
 of manner. 
 
 *• Not when the best of the name is on 
 my side," replied Seyton. 
 
 " Alas ! Henry, if thou meanest me, I 
 am but half a Douglas in this emprize — 
 half head, half heart, and half hand — But I 
 will think on one who can never be forgot- 
 :ten, and be all, or more, than any of my 
 
 jancestors was ever Keltic, say it was Hen- 
 
 ry Seyton did the deed ; but beware, not 
 a word of me ! — Let Auchtermuchty carry 
 this packet (which he had re-sealed with 
 his own signet) to my father at Edinburgh ; 
 and here is to pay for the funeral expences, 
 and thy loss of custom."
 
 THE ABBOT. 211 
 
 " And the washing of the floor," said the 
 landlord, *' which will be an extraordinary 
 job; for blood, they say, will scarcely ever 
 cleanse out." 
 
 •• But as for your plan," said George of 
 Douglas, addressing Seyton, as if in conti- 
 nuation of what they had been before treat- 
 ing of, " it has a good face ; but, under your 
 favour, you are yourself too hot and too 
 youngjbesides other reasons which are much 
 against your playing the part you propose." 
 
 " We will consult the Father Abbot upon 
 it," said the youth. " Do you ride to Kin- 
 ross to-night ?" 
 
 •' Ay — so I purpose," answered Douglas ; 
 *' the night will be dark, and suits a muf- 
 fled man. — Keltic, I forgo", there should 
 be a stone laid on that man's grave, record- 
 ing his name, and his only merit, which was 
 being a faithful servant to the Douglas." 
 
 ** What religion was the man of?" said 
 Seyton ; •* he used words which made me 
 fear I have sent Satan a subject before his 
 time."
 
 212 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " I can tell you little of that," said George 
 Douglas ; " he was noted for disliking both 
 Rome and Geneva, and spoke of lights he 
 had learned among the fierce sectaries of 
 Lower Germany — an evil doctrine it was, 
 if we judge by the fruits. God keep us 
 from presumptuously judging of Heaven's 
 secrets!" 
 
 " Amen !" said the young Seyton, " and 
 from meeting any encounter this evening." 
 
 ** It is not thy wont to pray so," said 
 George Douglas. 
 
 " No ! I leave that to you," replied the 
 youth, ** when you are seized with scruples 
 of engaging with your father's vassals. But 
 I would fain have this old man's blood off 
 these hands of mine ere I shed more — I 
 will confess to the Abbot to-night, and I 
 trust to have light penance for ridding the 
 earth of such a miscreant. All I sorrow for 
 is, that he was not a score of years young- 
 er — He drew steel first, however, that is one 
 comfort."
 
 THE ABBOT. 213 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ay, Pedro, — Come you here with mask and lantern, 
 Ladder of ropes and other moonshine tools — 
 Why, youngster, thou mayest cheat the old Duenna, 
 Flatter the waiting- woman, bribe the valet ; 
 But know, that I her father play the Gryphon, 
 Tameless and sleepless, proof to fraud or bribe. 
 And guard the hidden treasure of her beauty. 
 
 The Spanish Father. 
 
 The tenor of our tale carries us back to 
 the Castle of Lochleven, where we take up 
 the order of events on the same remarkable 
 day on which Dryfesdale had been dismiss- 
 ed from the castle. It was past noon, the 
 usual hour of dinner, yet no preparations 
 seemed made for the Queen's entertain- 
 ment. iNlary herself was retired into her 
 own apartment, where she was closely en- 
 gaged in writing. Her attendants were to- 
 gether in the presence-chamber, and much
 
 214 THE ABBOT. 
 
 disposed to speculate on the delay of the 
 dinner ; for it may be recollected that their 
 breakfast had been interrupted. *' 1 be- 
 lieve in my conscience," said the page, 
 *' that having found the poisoning scheme 
 miscarry, by having gone to the wrong mer- 
 chant for their deadly wares, they are now 
 about to try how famine will work upon 
 us." 
 
 Lady Fleming was somewhat alarmed at 
 this surmise, but comforted herself by ob 
 serving that the chimney of the kitchen had 
 reeked that whole day in a manner which 
 contradicted the supposition. — Catherine 
 Seyton presently exclaimed, '♦ They were 
 bearing the dishes across the court, mar- 
 shalled by the Lady Lochleven herself, 
 dressed out in her highest and stiffest ruff, 
 with her partlet and sleeves of Cyprus, and 
 her huge old-fashioned farthingale of crim- 
 son velvet." 
 
 ♦' I believe on my word," said the page, 
 approaching the window also, " it was in 
 that very farthingale that she captivated 
 the heart of gentle King Jamie, which pro-
 
 THE ABBOT. 215 
 
 cured our poor Queen her precious bargain 
 of a brother." 
 
 " That may hardly be, Master Roland," 
 answered the Lady Fleming, who was a 
 great recorder of the changes of fashion, 
 •' since the farthingales came first in when 
 the Queen Regent went to Saint Andrews, 
 after the battle of Pinkie, and were then 
 called Verfgadins" 
 
 She would have proceeded farther in this 
 important discussion, but was interrupted 
 by the entrance of the Lady of Lochleven, 
 who preceded the servants bearing the 
 dishes, and formally discharged the duty of 
 tasting each of them. Lady Fleming re- 
 gretted, in courtly phrase, that the Lady 
 of Lochleven should have undertaken so 
 troublesome an office. 
 
 *' After the strange incident of this day, 
 madam," said the Lady, *' it is necessary for 
 my honour and that of my son, that I par- 
 take whatever is offered to my involuntary 
 guest. Please to inform the Lady Mary 
 that I attend her commands."
 
 216 THE ABBOT. 
 
 «' Her Majesty," replied Lady Fleming, 
 with due emphasis on the word, " shall be 
 informed that the Lady Lochleven waits." 
 
 Mary appeared instantly, and addressed 
 her hostess with courtesy, which even ap- 
 proached to something more cordial. *• This 
 is nobly done, Lady Lochleven j" she said, 
 *• for though we ourselves apprehend no 
 danger under your roof, our ladies have 
 been much alarmed by this morning's 
 chance, and our meal will be the more 
 cheerful for your presence and assurance. 
 Please you to sit down." 
 
 The Lady Lochleven obeyed the Queen's 
 commands, and Roland performed the of- 
 fice of carver and attendant as usual. But, 
 notwithstanding what the Queen had said, 
 the meal was silent and unsocial ; and every 
 effort which Mary made to excite some con- 
 versation, died away under the solemn and 
 chill replies of the Lady of Lochleven. At 
 length it became plain that the Queen, who 
 had considered her advances as a conde-
 
 THE ABBOT. 21/ 
 
 scension on her part, and who piqued herself 
 justly on her powers of pleasing, became of- 
 fended at the repulsive conduct of her host- 
 ess. After looking with a significant glance 
 at Lady Fleming and Catherine, she slightly 
 shrugged her shoulders, and remained si- 
 lent. A pause ensued, at the end of which 
 the Lady Douglas spoke. — *' I perceive, 
 Madam, I am a check on the mirth of this 
 fair company. I pray you to excuse me — 
 I am a widow — alone here in a most peri- 
 lous charge — deserted by my grandson — 
 betrayed by my servant — I am little worthy 
 of the grace you do me in offering me a 
 seat at your table, where I am aware that 
 wit and pastime are usually expected from 
 the guests." 
 
 '' If the Lady Lochleven is serious," said 
 the Queen, •* we wonder by what simplicity 
 she expects our present meals to be sea- 
 soned with mirth. If she is a widow, she 
 lives honoured and uncontrouled, at the 
 head of her late husband's household. But 
 
 VOL. iir. K
 
 218 THE ABBOT. 
 
 I know, at least, of one widowed woman ir: 
 the world, before whom the words deser- 
 tion and betrayal ought never to be men- 
 tioned, since no one has been made so bit- 
 terly acquainted with their import." 
 
 *' I meant not to remind you of your 
 misfortunes, by the mention of mine," an 
 swered the Lady Loch] even, and there was 
 again a deep silence. 
 
 Mary at length addressed Lady Fleming. 
 " We can commit no deadly sins here, ma 
 honney where we are so well warded and 
 looked to ; but if we could, this Carthusian 
 silence might be useful as a kind of penance. 
 If thou hast adjusted my wimple amiss, my 
 Fleming, or if Catherine hath made a wry 
 stitch in her broidery, when she was think- 
 ing of something else than her work, or if 
 Roland Graeme hath missed a wild-duck on 
 the wing, and broke a quarrel-pane of glass 
 in the turret window, as chanced to him 
 a week since, now is the time to think on 
 your sins and to repent of them." 
 
 " Madam, 1 speak with all reverence/
 
 THE ABBOT. 219 
 
 said the Lady Lochleven ; " but I ain old, 
 and claim the privilege of'iige. Methinks 
 your followers might find fitter subjects for 
 repentance than the trifles you mention, and 
 so mention — once more, I crave your par- 
 don — as if you jested with sin and with re- 
 pentance both." 
 
 " You have been oiir taster, Lady Loch- 
 leven," said the Queen, " I perceive you 
 would eke out your duty with that of our 
 Father Confessor — and since you chuse that 
 our conversation should be serious, may I 
 ask you why the Regent's promise — since 
 your son so styles himself^ — has not been 
 kept to me in that respect ? From time to 
 time this promise has been renewed, and 
 as constantly broken. Methinks, those who 
 pretend themselves to so much gravity and 
 sanctity, should not debar from others the 
 religious succours which their consciences 
 require." 
 
 " Madam, the Earl of Murray was in- 
 deed weak enough," said the Lady Loch- 
 leven, '' to give so far way to your unhappy
 
 220 THE ABB )T. 
 
 {)rcjudices, and a religioner of the Pope 
 presented himself on his part at our town 
 of Kinross. — But the Douglas is Lord of 
 his own castle, and will not permit his 
 threshold to be darkened, no not for a sin- 
 gle moiTient, by an em.issary belonging to 
 the Bishop of Rome." 
 
 '* Methinks it were well, then," said Ma- 
 ry, " that my Lord Regent would send me 
 where there is less scru|)}e and more cha- 
 rity." 
 
 " In this, madam," answered the Lady 
 Loclileven, ** you mistake tlie nature both 
 of charity and of religion. Charity givetli 
 to those who are in delirium the medi- 
 caments which may avail their health, but 
 refuses those enticing cates and liquors 
 which please the palate, but augment the 
 disease." 
 
 " This your charity, Lady Lochleven, is 
 pure cruelty, under the hypocritical dis- 
 guise of friendly care. I am oppressed 
 amongst you as if you meant the destruc- 
 tion both of my body and soul j but Hea-
 
 THE ABB)T. 2:il 
 
 ven will not erulure such iiiit[uity for ever, 
 and they who are the most active agents in 
 it may speedily expect their reward." 
 
 At tiiis moment Randal entered the apart- 
 ment, with a look so much perturbed, that 
 the Lady Fleming uttered a faint scream, 
 the Queen was obviously startled, and the 
 I.ady of Lochiever., though too bold and 
 proud to evince any marked signs of alarm, 
 asked hastily what was the matter ? 
 
 " Dryfesdale has been slain, madam," 
 was the reply ; '' murdered as soon as he 
 gained the dry land by young Master Hen- 
 ry Seyton." 
 
 It was now Catherine's turn to start and 
 grow pale — " Has the murderer of the 
 Douglas's vassal escaped ?" was the Lad}''s 
 hasty question. 
 
 " There was none to challenge him but 
 old Keltie, and the carrier Auchtermuchty," 
 replied Randal ; '* unlikely men to slay one 
 of the frackest* youths in Scotland ot his 
 
 * Boldest — most forward.
 
 222 THE ABBOT. 
 
 years, and who was sure to have friends and 
 partakers at no great distance." 
 
 *' Was the deed completed ?" said the 
 Lady. 
 
 ** Done, and done thoroughly," said Ran- 
 dal J " a Seyton seldom strikes twice — But 
 the body was not despoiled, and your ho- 
 nour's packet goes forward to Edinburgh by 
 Auchtermuchty, who leaves Keltie-Bridge 
 early to-morrow — marry, he has drunk two 
 bottles of aquavit£e to put the fright out of 
 his head, and nov/ sleeps them off beside 
 his cart- avers." 
 
 There was a pause when this fatal tale 
 was told. The Queen and Lady Douglas 
 looked on each other, as if each thought 
 how she could best turn the incident to her 
 own advantage in the controversy, v/hich 
 was continually kept alive betwixt them — 
 Catherine Seyton kept her kerchief at her 
 eyes and wept. 
 
 " You see, madam, the bloody maxims 
 and practice of the deluded papists," said 
 Lady Lochleven.
 
 THE ABBOT. 223 
 
 *« Nay, madam," replied the Queen, 
 " say rather you see the deserved judgment 
 of Heaven upon a Calvinistical poisoner." 
 
 " Dryfesdale was not of the Church of 
 Geneva or of Scotland," said the Lady 
 Lochleven, hastily. 
 
 <' He was a heretic, however," replied 
 Mary ; " there is but one true and unerring 
 guide, the others lead alike into error." 
 
 *' Well, madam, I trust it will reconcile 
 you to your retreat, that this deed shews 
 the temper of those who might wish you at 
 liberty. Blood-thirsty tyrants, and cruel 
 man-quellers are they all, from the Clan- 
 Ranald and Clan-Tosach in the north, to the 
 Ferniherst and Buccleuch in the south — 
 the murdering Sey tons in the east, and" 
 
 *♦ Methinks, madam, you forget that 1 
 am a Seyton ?" said Catherine, withdrawing 
 her kerchief from her face, which was now 
 coloured with indignation. 
 
 ** If I had forgot it, fair mistress, your 
 forward bearing would have reminded me," 
 said Lady Lochleven.
 
 224) niE abeot. 
 
 " li my brother has slain the villain that 
 would have poisoned his Sovereign, and his 
 sister," said Catherine, " I am only so far 
 sorry that he should have spared the hang- 
 man his proper task. For aught f'urtlier, 
 had it been the best Douglas in the land, 
 he would have been honoured in falling by 
 the Seyton's sword." 
 
 " Farewell, gay mistress," said the Lady 
 oi' Loehleven, rising to withdraw ; *' it is 
 such maidens as you, who make giddy-la- 
 shioned revellers and deadly brawlers. Boys 
 must needs rise, forsooth, in the grace of 
 some sprightly damsel, who thinks to dance 
 thicugh life as througli a French galliard.'" 
 .She then niade her reverence to the Queen, 
 and added, " Do you also, madam, fare you 
 weil, till curfew time, when 1 will make, 
 j^erchance, more bold than welcome in at- 
 tending upon your supper board. — Come 
 witli me, Randal, and tell me more of this 
 cruel t'ACi.'' 
 
 " 'Tis an extraordinary chance," said the 
 Qiicen, when she had departed ; " and.
 
 THE ABBOT. 225 
 
 villain as he was, I would this man had been 
 spared time for repentance. We will cause 
 something to be done for his soul, if we 
 ever attain our liberty, and the Church will 
 permit such grace to an heretic. — But, tell 
 me,Catherine, ma mignomie — thisbrotherof 
 thine, who is so frac7£, as the fellow called 
 him, bears he the same wonderful likeness 
 to thee as formerly ?" 
 
 " If your Grace means in temper, you 
 know whether I am io frack as the serving- 
 man spoke him." 
 
 " Nay, thou art prompt enough in all 
 reasonable conscience," replied the Queen ; 
 *' but thou art my own darling notwith- 
 standing — But I meant, is this thy twin- 
 brother as like thee in form and features 
 as formerly ? I remember thy dear mother 
 alleged it as a reason for destining thee to 
 the veil, that, were ye both to go at large, 
 thou wouldst surely get the credit of some 
 of thy brother's mad pranks." 
 
 '• I believe, madam," said Catherine, 
 *' there are some unusually simple people 
 
 K 2
 
 226 THE ABBOT. 
 
 even yet, who can hardly distinguish be- 
 twixt us, especially when, for diversion's 
 sake, my brother hath taken a female dress," 
 — and, as she spoke, she gave a quick glance 
 at Roland Gramme, to whom this conversa- 
 tion conveyed a ray of light, v/elcome as 
 ever streamed into the dungeon of a cap- 
 tive through the door which opened to give 
 him freedom. 
 
 " He must be a handsome cavalier this 
 brother of thine, if he be so like you," re- 
 plied Mary. " He was in France, I think, 
 for these late years, so that I saw him not 
 at Holyrood." 
 
 " His looks, madam, have never been 
 much found fault with," answered Cathe- 
 rine Seyton ; " but I would he had less of 
 that angry and heady spirit which evil times 
 have encouraged amongst our young no- 
 bles. God knows, I grudge not his life in 
 your Grace's quarrel } and love him for the 
 willingness with which he labours for your 
 rescue. But wherefore should he brawl 
 with an old ruffianly serving-man, and stain 
 
 4
 
 THE ABBOT. 227 
 
 at once his name \yth such a broil, and his 
 hands with the blood of an old and ignoble 
 wretch ?" 
 
 " Nay, be patient, Catherine ; I will not 
 have thee traduce my gallant young knight. 
 With Henry for my knight, and Roland 
 Gramme for my trusty squire, methinks I am 
 like a princess of romance, who may short- 
 ly set at defiance the dungeons and the wea- 
 pons of all wicked sorcerers. — But my head 
 aches with the agitation of the day. Take 
 me La Mer cles Histoires, Siud resume where 
 we left off on Wednesday. — Our Lady help 
 thy head, girl, or rather may she help thy 
 heart ! — I asked thee for the Sea of Histo- 
 ries, and thou hast brought La Cronique 
 d' Amour'' 
 
 Once embarked upon the Sea of Histories, 
 the Queen continued her labours with her 
 needle, while Lady Fleming and Catherine 
 read to her alternately for two hours. 
 
 As to Roland Graeme, it is probable that 
 \ he continued in secretintent upon the Chro- 
 nicle of Love, notwithstanding the censure
 
 228 THE ABBOT. 
 
 which the Queen seern^^ to pass upon that 
 branch of study. He now remembered a 
 thousand circumstances of" voice and man- 
 ner, which, had his own prepossession been 
 less, must surely have discriminated the bro- 
 ther from the sister ; and he felt ashamed, 
 that, having as it were by heart every par- 
 ticular of Catherine's gestures, words, and 
 manners, he should have thought her, not- 
 withstanding her spirits and levity, capable 
 of assuirjng the bold step, loud tones, and 
 forward assurance, which accorded well 
 enough with her brother's hasty and mas- 
 culine character. He endeavoured repeat- 
 edly to catch a glance of Catherine's eye, 
 that he might judge how she was disposed 
 to look upon him since he had made the 
 discovery, but he was unsuccessful ; for Ca- 
 therine, when she was not reading herself, 
 seemed to take so much interest in the ex- 
 ploits of the Teutonic knights against the 
 Heathens of Esthonia and Livonia, that he 
 could not surprise her eye even for a second. 
 But when, closing the book, the Queen com-
 
 THE ABBOT. i?29 
 
 manded their attendance in the garden, 
 Mary, perhaps of set purpose, (for Roland's 
 anxiety could not escape so practised an ob- 
 server,) afforded him a favourable opportu- 
 nity of accosting his mistress. The Queen 
 commanded them to a little distance, while 
 she engaged Lady Fleming in a particular 
 and private conversation; the subject where- 
 of, we learn from another authority, to have 
 been the comparative excellence of the high 
 standing ruff and the falling band. Roland 
 must have been duller, and more slieepish 
 than ever was youthful lover, if he had not 
 endeavoured to avail himself of this oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 '* I have been longing this wliole even- 
 ing to ask of you, fair Catherine," said the 
 page, " how foolish and unapprehensive you 
 must have thought me, in being capable to 
 mistake betwixt your brother and you ?" 
 
 ' - The circumstance does indeed little ho- 
 nour to my rustic manners," said Catlierine, 
 " since those of a wild young man were so 
 readily mistaken (or mine. But I shall grow 
 11
 
 230 THE ABBOT. 
 
 wiser in time ; and with that view I am de- 
 termined not to think of your follies, but 
 to correct my own." 
 
 " It will be the lighter subject of medi- 
 tation of the two," said Roland. 
 
 " I know not that," said Catherine, very 
 gravely ; ** I fear we have been both unpar- 
 donably foolish." 
 
 " I have been mad," said Roland, '* un- 
 pardonably mad. But you, lovely Cathe- 
 rine"— 
 
 *' I," said Catherine, in the same tone of 
 unusual gravity, " have too long suffered 
 you to use such expressions towards me — 
 I fear I can permit it no longer, and I blame 
 myself for the pain it may give you." 
 
 ** And what can have happened so sud- 
 denly to change our relation to each other, 
 or alter, with such sudden cruelty, your 
 whole deportment to me ?" 
 
 '* I can hardly tell," replied Catherine, 
 ** unless it is that the events of the day have 
 impressed on my mind the necessity of our 
 observing more distance to each other — a
 
 THE ABBOT. 231 
 
 chance similar to that which betrayed to you 
 the existence of my brother, may make 
 known to Henry the terms you have used 
 to me ; and, alas ! his whole conduct, as 
 well as his deed this day, makes me too just- 
 ly apprehensive of the consequences." 
 
 *' Fear nothing for that, fair Catherine," 
 answered the page ; " I am well able to 
 protect myself against risks of that nature." 
 
 " That is to say," replied she, ** that you 
 would fight with my twin-brother to shew 
 your regard for his sister? I have heard 
 the Queen say, in her sad hours, that men 
 are, in love or in hate, the most selfish ani- 
 mals of creation ; and your carelessness in 
 this matter looks very like it. But be not 
 so much abashed — you are no worse than 
 others." 
 
 " You do me injustice, Catherine," re- 
 plied the page, " I thought but of being 
 threatened with a sword, and did not re- 
 member in whose hand your fancy had 
 placed it. If your brother stood before me, 
 with his drawn weapon in his hand, so like
 
 232 THE ABBOT. 
 
 as he is to you in word, person, and favour, 
 he might shed my life's- blood ere I could 
 tnd in my heart to resist him to his injury." 
 
 "Alas!" said she, " it is not my brother 
 alone. But you remember onlv the sin<iular 
 circumstances in which we have met in equa- 
 lity, and 1 may say in intimacy. You think 
 not, that whenever I re-enter my father's 
 house, there is a gulph between us you may 
 not pass, but with peril of your life. — Your 
 only known relative is of wild and singular 
 habits, 0.^ n hostile and broken clan — the 
 rest of your I'neage unknown — forgive me 
 that I speak what is the undeniable truth." 
 
 " Love, my beautiful Catherine, despises 
 genealogies," answered Roland Gneme. 
 
 " Love may, but so will not the Lord 
 Seyton," rejoined the damsel. 
 
 •' The Queen, thy mistress and mine, she 
 will intercede. O ! drive me not from you 
 at the moment I thought myself most hap- 
 py ! — and if I shall aid her deliverance, said 
 not yourself that you and she would become 
 my debtors ?"
 
 THE ABBOT. 233 
 
 *• All ScoLland will become vour debt- 
 or8/' said Catherine ; *' but for the act' . 
 etiects you might hope from our gratitude, 
 you must remember 1 am wholly subjected 
 to my father ; and the poor Queen is, for a 
 long time, more likely to be dependent on 
 the pleasure of the nobles of her party, 
 than possessed of power to controul them." 
 
 " Be it so/' replied-Roland ; " my deeds 
 shall controul prejudice itself — it isa bust- 
 ling world, and I will have my share. The 
 Knight of Avenel, high as he now stands, 
 rose from as obscure an origin as mine." 
 
 " Ay !" said Catherine, " there spoke the 
 doughty knight of romance, that will cut 
 his way to the imprisoned princess, through 
 fiends and fiery dragons." 
 
 " But if 1 can set the princess at large, 
 and procure her the freedom of her own 
 choice," said the p^ige, " where, dearest Ca- 
 therine, will that choice alight ?" 
 
 '* Release the princess from duresse, and 
 she Tvill ted you," said the damsel ; and
 
 ^34< THE ABBOT. 
 
 breaking off the conversation abruptly, she 
 joined the Queen so suddenly, that Mary 
 exclaimed, half" aloud, 
 
 " No more tidings of evil import — no dis- 
 sention, I trust, in my limited household ?"— - 
 Then looking on Catherine's blushing cheek, 
 and Roland's expanded brow and glancing 
 eye — ** No — no," she said, *' I see all is 
 well — Ma petite mignonney go to my apart- 
 ment and fetch me down — let me see — ay 
 fetch my pomander box." 
 
 And having thus disposed of her attend- 
 ant in the manner best qualified to hide her 
 confusion, the Queen added, speaking apart 
 to Roland, " 1 should at least have two grate- 
 ful subjects of Catherine and you j for what 
 sovereign but Mary would aid true-love so 
 willingly I — Ay, you lay your hand on your 
 sword — your iietite Jiainherge a rlen there 
 — Well, short time will shew if all the good 
 be true that is protested to us. — I hear them 
 toll curfew from Kinross. To our chamber 
 — this old dame hath promised to be witii
 
 THE ABBOT. 235 
 
 US again at our evening meal. Were it not 
 for the hope ofspeedy deliverance, her pre- 
 sence would drive me distracted. But I 
 will be patient." 
 
 " I profess," said Catherine, ** I would I 
 could be Henry, with all a man's privileges 
 for one moment — I long to throw my plate 
 at that confect of pride, and formality, and 
 ill-nature." 
 
 The Lady Fleming reprimanded her 
 young companion for this explosion of im- 
 patience 5 the Queen laughed, and they 
 went to the presence-chamber, where al- 
 most immediately entered supper, and the 
 Lady of the Castle. The Queen, strong in 
 her prudent resolutions, endured her pre- 
 sence with great fortitude and equanimity, 
 until her patience was' disturbed by a new 
 form, which had hitherto made no part of 
 the ceremonial of the castle. When the 
 other attendant had retired, Randal enter- 
 ed, bearing the keys of the castle fastened 
 upon a chain, and, announcing that the
 
 2b6 THE ABBor, 
 
 watch was set, and the gates locked, deh- 
 vered the keys with, all reverence to the 
 Lady of Lochleven., 
 
 The Queen and her ladies exchanged 
 with each other a look of disappointment, 
 anger, and vexation, and Mary said aloud, 
 " We cannot regret the smallness of our 
 court, when we see our hostess discharge 
 in person so many of its offices. Inaddi- 
 tion to her charges of principal steward of 
 our household and grand almoner, she 
 has to-night done duty as captain of our 
 guard. ' 
 
 '* And will continue to do so in future, 
 madam," answered the Lady Lochleven, 
 with much gravity ; " the history of Scot- 
 land may teach me how ill the duty is per- 
 formed, which is done by an accredited de- 
 puty — We have heard, madam, of favourites 
 of later date, and as little merit, as Oliver 
 Sinclair." 
 
 '* O, madam," replied the Queen, ** my 
 father had his female as well as his male fa-
 
 THt: ABBOT. 237 
 
 vourite? — there were the Ladies S.indilands 
 and OHfaiint, and some others, methinks ; 
 but their names cannot survive in the me- 
 mory of so grave a person as you." 
 
 The Lady Lochleven looked as if she 
 couh] liave slain the Queen on the spot, but 
 commanded h.er temper, and retired from 
 the apartment, bearing in her hand the pon- 
 derous bunch of keys. 
 
 " Now God be praised for that woman's 
 youthful frailty," said the Queen. *' Had she 
 not that weak point in her character, I migiu 
 waste my words on her in vain — But that 
 stain is the very reverse of what is said of 
 the witch's mark — I can make her feel there, 
 though she is otherwise insensible all over 
 — But how say you, girls — here is a new 
 difficulty — How are these keys to be come 
 by ? — tliere is no deceiving or bribing this 
 dragon, I trow." 
 
 " May I crave to know," said Roland, 
 " whether, if your Grace were beyond the 
 walls of the castle, you could find means of
 
 238 THE ABBOT. 
 
 conveyance to the firm land, and protectioi: 
 when you are there." 
 
 " Trust us for that, Roland," said the 
 Queen ; " for to that point our scheme is 
 indifferent well laid." 
 
 *' Then if your Grace will permit me to 
 speak my mind, 1 think I could be of some 
 use in this matter." 
 
 " As how, my good youth ? — speak on," 
 said the Queen, " and fearlessly." 
 
 *' My patron the Knight of Avenel used 
 to compel the youth educated in his house- 
 hold to learn the use of axe and hammer, 
 and working in wood and iron — he used to 
 speak of old northern champions, who for- 
 ged their own weapons, and of the High- 
 land Captain Donald nan Ord, or Donald 
 of the Hammer, whom he himself knew, 
 and who used to work at the anvil with a 
 sledge- hammer in each hand. Some said 
 he praised this art, because he was himself 
 of churl's blood. However, I gained some 
 practice in it, as the Lady Catherine Seyton
 
 THE ABBOT. 239 
 
 partly knows ; for since we were here I 
 wrought her a silver broach." 
 
 " Ay," replied Catherine, " but you 
 should tell her Grace that your workman- 
 ship was so indifferent that it broke to pieces 
 next day, and I flung it away." 
 
 *' Believe her not, Roland," said the 
 Queen ; " she wept when it w^as broken, 
 and put the fragments into her bosom. But 
 for your scheme — could your skill avail to 
 forge a second set of keys ?" 
 
 " No, madam, because I know not the 
 wards. But I am convinced I could make 
 a set so like that hateful bunch which the 
 lady bore off even now, that could they be 
 exchanged against them by any means, she 
 would never dream she was possessed of the 
 wrong." 
 
 " And the good dame, thank heaven, is 
 somewhat blind," said the Queen ; ** but 
 then for a forge, my boy, and the means of 
 labouring unobserved ?" 
 
 " Tlie armourer's forge, at which I used 
 sometimes to work with him, is in the round
 
 240 THE ABBOT. 
 
 vauk at the bottom of" the turret — he was 
 dismissed with the warder for being suppo- 
 sed too much attached to George Douglas. 
 The people are accustomed to see me work 
 there, and I will find some excuse that will 
 pass current with them lor putting bt'llows 
 and anvil to work."' 
 
 " Tiie scheme has a promising face," said 
 the Queen; "about it, mylad, with ali speed, 
 and beware the nature of your work is not 
 discovered." 
 
 " NaVj I wiji take the liberty to draw the 
 boit against chance visitors, so that I will 
 have time to put away what 1 am working 
 upon, before I undo the door." 
 
 " Will not that of itself aitract suspicion, 
 in a ])lace where it is so current already ?" 
 said Catherine. 
 
 " Not a whit," replied Roland ; '-''■ Gre- 
 gory the armourer, and every good ham- 
 merman, locks himself in when he is about 
 some masterpiece of crafr. Besides, some- 
 thins: must be risked."
 
 THE ABBOT. 241 
 
 " Part we then to-night," said the Queen, 
 *' and God bless you, my children. — If 
 Mary's head ever rises above water, you 
 shall all arise along with her. 
 
 
 VOL III.
 
 242 THE ABBOr. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It is a time of danger, not of reve!, 
 \Mien churchmen turn masquers. 
 
 Spanish Father. 
 
 The enterprize of Roland Gra?me appear- 
 ed to prosper. A trinket or two, of which 
 the work did not surpass the substance, (for 
 the materials were silver, supplied by the 
 Queen) were judiciously presented to those 
 most likely to be inquisitive into the labours 
 of the forge and anvil, which they thus were 
 induced to reckon profitable to others and 
 harmless in itself. Openly, the page was 
 seen working about such trifles. In private, 
 he forged a number of keys resembling so 
 nearly in weight and in form those which 
 were presented every evening to the Lady 
 Lochleven, that, on a slight inspection, it 
 would have been difricult to perceive the
 
 THE ABBOT. S43 
 
 difference. He brought them ta the dark 
 rusty colour by the use of salt and water ; 
 and, in the triumph of his art, presented 
 them at length to Queen Mary in her pre- 
 sence- chamber, about an hour before the 
 tolling of the curfew. She looked at them 
 with pleasure, but at the same time with 
 doubt. — *« I allow," she said, " that the 
 Lady Lochleven's eyes, which are not of 
 the clearest, may be well deceived, could 
 we pass those keys on her, in place of the 
 real implements of her tyranny. But how 
 is this to be done, and which of my little 
 court dare attempt this tour de jongleur 
 with any chance of success ? Could we but 
 engage her in some earnest matter of argu- 
 ment — but those which I hold with her, 
 always have been of a kind which make her 
 grasp her keys the faster, as if she said to 
 herself — Here I hold what sets me above 
 your taunts and reproaches — And even for 
 her liberty, Mary Stuart could not stoop to 
 speak the proud heretic fair.— What shall 
 we do ? Shall Lady Fleming try her elo-
 
 24i4 THE ABBOT. 
 
 I 
 
 quence in describing the last new head- 
 tire from Paris ? — Alas ! the good dame has 
 not changed the fashion of her head-gear 
 since Pinkiefield, for aught that I know. 
 vShall my mignonne Catherine sing to her 
 one of those touching airs, which draw the 
 very souls out of me and Roland Gr^me? — 
 Ahs ! Dame Margaret Douglas would rather 
 hear a Huguenot psalm sung to the tune of 
 li£veille% vous belle endoriiue — Cousins and 
 liege counsellors, what is to be done, for 
 our w^ts are really astray in this matter. — 
 Must our man-at-arms and the champion of 
 our body, Roland Graeme, manfully assault 
 the old lady, and take the keys from her 
 par vote du fait ?" 
 
 " Nay ! with your Grace's permission," 
 said Roland, " I doubt not to manage the 
 matter with more discretion ; for though, in 
 your Grace's service, I do not fear" 
 
 *' A host of old women," interrupted Ca- 
 therine, " each armed with rock and spin- 
 dle, yet he has no fancy for pikes and par- 
 tizans."
 
 THE ABBOT. 245 
 
 *' They that do not fear fair ladies' 
 tongues," continued the page, " need dread 
 nothing else. — But, gracious Liege, I am 
 well nigh satisfied that I could pass the 
 exchange of these keys on the Lady Loch- 
 leven ; but I dread the centinel who is now 
 planted nightly in the garden, which, by 
 necessity, we must traverse." 
 
 " Our last advices from our friend on the 
 shore have promised us assistance in that 
 matter," replied the Queen. 
 
 " And is your Grace well assured of the 
 fidelity and watchfulness of those without ?" 
 
 ** For their fidelity, I will answer with 
 my life, and for their vigilance, I" will an- 
 swer with my life — I will give thee instant 
 proofi my faithful Roland, that they are in- 
 genious and trusty as thyself. Come hi- 
 ther — Nay, Catherine, attend us; we carry 
 not so deft a page into our private cham- 
 ber alone. Make fast the door of the par- 
 lour, Fleming, and warn us if you hear the 
 least step — or stay, go thou to the door, 
 Catherine, (in a whisper) thy ears and thy
 
 S46 THE ABBOT. 
 
 wits are both sharper. — Good Fleming, at- 
 tend us thyself-^(and again she whispered) 
 her reverend presence will be as safe a 
 watch on Koland as thine can — so be not 
 jealous, imgnonne*^ 
 
 Thus speaking, they were lighted by the 
 Lady Fleming into the Queen's bed- room, 
 a small apartment enlightened by a pro- 
 jecting window. 
 
 " Look from that window, Roland," she 
 said ; " see you amongst the several lights 
 which begin to kindle, and to glimmer pale- 
 ly through the grey of the evening from the 
 village of Kinross— Seest thou, I say, one 
 solitary spark apart from the others, and 
 nearer it seems to the verge of the water ?- — 
 It is no brighter at this distance than the 
 torch of the poor glow-worm, and yet, my 
 good youth, that light is more dear to Mary 
 Stuart, than every star that twinkles in the 
 blue vault of Heaven. By that signal, I 
 know that more than one true heart are 
 plotting my deliverance; and without that 
 consciousness, and the hope of freedom it
 
 THE ABBOT. 247 
 
 gives me, I had long since stooped to my 
 fate, and died of a broken heart. Plan after 
 plan has been formed and abandoned, but 
 still the light glimmers, and while it glim- 
 mers, my hope lives. — O ! how many even- 
 ings have I sat musing in despair over our 
 ruined schemes, and scarce hoping that I 
 should again see that blessed signal; when it 
 has suddenly kindled, and, like the lights of 
 Saint Elmo in a tempest, brought hope and 
 consolation, where there was only dejection 
 and despair 1" 
 
 " If I mistake not," answered Roland, 
 *' the candle shines from the house of Blink- 
 hoolie, the mail.gardener." 
 
 " Thou hast a good eye," said the Queen ; 
 " it is there where my trusty lieges — God 
 and the saints pour blessings on them ! — 
 hold consultation for my deliverance. The 
 voice of a wretched captive would die on 
 these blue waters, long ere it could mingle 
 in their councils, and yet I can hold com- 
 munication — I will confide the whole to
 
 248 THE ABBOT. 
 
 thee — I am about to ask those faithful 
 friends, if the moment for the great attempt 
 is nigh — Place the lamp in the window. Fie- 
 ming." 
 
 She obeyed, and immediately withdrew 
 it. No sooner had she done so, than the 
 light in the cottage of the gardener disap- 
 peared. 
 
 •' Now, count," said Queen Mary, •* for 
 my heart beats so thick that I cannot count 
 myself" 
 
 The Lady Fleming began deliberately to 
 count one, two, three, and when she had ar- 
 rived at ten, the light on the shore again 
 shewed its pale twinkle. 
 
 *• Now, Our Lady be praised !" said the 
 Queen ; ♦' it was but two nights since, that 
 the absence of the light remained, while I 
 could tell thirty. The hour of deliverance 
 approaches. May God bless those who la- 
 bour in it with such truth to me ! — alas ! 
 with such hazard to themselves — And bless 
 you too, my children ! — Come, we must to
 
 THE ABBOT. 240 
 
 the audience-chamber again. Our absence 
 might excite suspicion, should they serve 
 the supper." 
 
 They returned to the presence-chamber, 
 and the evening concluded as usual. 
 
 The next morning, at dinner-time, an 
 unusual incident occurred. While Lady 
 Douglas of Lochleven performed her daily 
 duty of assistant and taster at the Queen's 
 table, she was told a man at-arms had ar- 
 rived recommended by her son, but without 
 any letter or other token than what he 
 brought by word of mouth. 
 
 " Hath he given you that token r" de- 
 manded the Lady. 
 
 " He reserved it, as I think, for your 
 ladyship's ear," replied Randal. 
 
 " He doth well," said the Lady ; '» tell 
 him to wait in the hall — But no — with your 
 permission, madam, (to the Queen) let him 
 attend me here." 
 
 '* Since you are pleased to receive your 
 domestics in my presence," said the Queen, 
 
 ** I cannot chuse " 
 
 L sr
 
 250 THE ABBOT. 
 
 «« My infirmities must plead my excuse, 
 madam," replied the Lady j " the life I must 
 lead here ill suits with the years which have 
 passed over my head, and compels me to 
 waive ceremonial." 
 
 " O, my good lady," replied the Queen, 
 *' I would there were nought in this your 
 castle more strongly compulsive than the 
 cobweb chains of ceremony ; but bolts and 
 bars are harder matters to contend with." 
 
 As she spoke, the person announced by 
 Randal entered the room, and Roland 
 Graeme at once recogni?ed in him the Ab>^ 
 bot Ambrosius. 
 
 *' What is your name, good fellow ?" said 
 the Lady. 
 
 *' Edward Glendinning," answered the 
 Abbot, with a suitable reverence. 
 
 " Art thou of the blood of the Knight 
 of Avenel ?" said the Lady of Lochleven. 
 
 " Ay, madam, and that nearly," replied 
 the pretended soldier. 
 
 '* It is likely enough," said the Lady, " for 
 the Knight is the son of his own good works, 
 8
 
 THE ABBOT. 251 
 
 and has risen from obscure lineage to his 
 present high rank in the Estate — But he is 
 of sure truth and approved worth, and his 
 kinsman is welcome to us. You hold, un- 
 questionably, the true faith ?" 
 
 " Do not doubt of it, madam," said the 
 disguised churchman. 
 
 " Hast thou a token to me from Sir Wil- 
 liam Douglas ?" said the Lady. 
 
 " I have, madam," replied he; *' but it 
 must be said in private." 
 
 " Thou art right," said the Lady, moving 
 towards the recess of a window j " say in 
 what does it consist ?" 
 
 '* In the words of an old bard," replied 
 the Abbot. 
 
 " Repeat them," answered the Lady; and 
 he uttered, in a low tone, the lines from an 
 old poem, called The Howlet, — 
 
 " O, Douglas ! Douglas ! 
 Tender and true." 
 
 " Trusty Sir John Holland !" said the 
 Lady Douglas, apostrophizing the poet.
 
 252 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " a kinder heart never inspired a rhime, 
 and the Douglas's honour was ever on thy 
 harp-string ! We receive you among our 
 followers, Glendinning — But, Randal, see 
 that he keep the outer ward only, till we 
 shall hear more touching him from our son. 
 — Thou fearest not the night-air, Glendin- 
 ning ?" 
 
 ** In the cause of the Lady before whom 
 I stand, I fear nothing, madam," answered 
 the disguised Abbot. 
 
 *' Our garrison, then, is stronger by one 
 trust- worthy soldier," said the matron — 
 " Go to the buttery, and let them make 
 much of thee." 
 
 When the Lady Lochleven had retired, 
 the Queen said to Roland Grajrae, who was 
 now almost constantly in her company, " I 
 spy comfort in that stranger's countenance j 
 I know not why it should be so, but I am 
 well persuaded he is a friend." 
 
 ♦• Your Grace's penetration does not de- 
 ceive you," answered the page ; and he in- 
 formed her that ihe Abbot of Saint Mary's
 
 THE ABBOT. 253 
 
 himself played the part of the newly arri- 
 ved soldier. 
 
 The Queen crossed herself and looked 
 upwards. " Unworthy sinner that I am," 
 she said, '* that for my sake a man so holy, 
 and so high in spiritual office, should wear 
 the garb of a base sworder, and run the risk 
 of dying the death of a traitor 1'* 
 
 *• Heaven will protect its own servant, 
 madam," said Catherine Seyton ; *' his aid 
 would bring a blessing on our undertaking, 
 were it not already blest for its own sake." 
 
 " What I admire in my spiritual father," 
 said Roland, " was the steady front with 
 which he looked on me, without giving the 
 least sign of former acquaintance. I did 
 not think the like was possible, since I have 
 ceased to believe that Henry was the same 
 person with Catherine." 
 
 '* But marked you not how astuceously 
 the good father," said the Queen, " eluded 
 the questions of the woman Lochleven, tell- 
 ing her the very truth, which yet she re- 
 ceived not as such ?"
 
 254 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Roland thought in his heart, that when 
 the truth was spoken for the purpose of de- 
 ceiving, it was little better than a lie in dis- 
 guise. But it was no time to agitate such 
 questions of conscience. 
 
 " And now for the signal from the shore," 
 exclaimed Catherine ; " my bosom tells me 
 we shall see this night two lights instead of 
 one gleam from that garden of Eden— =■ And 
 then, Roland, do you play your part man- 
 fully, and we will dance on the greensward 
 like midnight fairies," 
 
 Catherine's conjecture misgave not, nor 
 deceived her. In the evening two beams 
 twinkled from the cottage, instead of one ; 
 and the page heard, with beating heart, that 
 the new retainer was ordered to stand cen- 
 tinel on the outside of the castle. When 
 he intimated this news to the Queen, she 
 held her hand out to him — he knelt, and 
 when he raised it to his lips in all dutiful 
 homage, he found it was damp and cold as 
 marble. " For God's sake, madam, droop 
 not now — sink not now."
 
 THE ABBOT. 255 
 
 " Call upon Our Lady, my Liege," said 
 the Lady Fleming — " call upon your tute- 
 lar saint." 
 
 '• Call the spirits of the hundred kings 
 you are descended from," exclaimed the 
 page ; *' in this hour of need, the resolution 
 of a monarch were worth the aid of a hun- 
 dred saints." 
 
 " O! Roland Graeme," said Mary, in a 
 tone of deep despondency, ** be true to 
 me — many have been false to me. Alas ! I 
 have not always been true to myself. My 
 mind misgives me that I shall die in bon- 
 dage, and that this bold attempt will cost 
 all our lives. It was foretold me by a sooth- 
 sayer in France, that I should die in prison, 
 and by a violent death, and here comes the 
 hour — O, would to God it found me pre- 
 pared !'* 
 
 '* Madam," said Catherine Seyton, " re- 
 member you are a Queen. Better we all 
 died in bravely attempting to gain our free- 
 dom, than remained here to be poisoned, as
 
 256 THE ABBOT. 
 
 men rid them of the noxious vermin that 
 haunt old houses." 
 
 " You are right, Catherine," said the 
 Queen ; " and Mary will bear her like her- 
 self. But, alas ! your young and buoyant 
 spirit can ill spell the causes which have 
 broken mine. Forgive me, my children, 
 and farewell for a while — I will prepare 
 both mind and body for this awful ven- 
 ture." 
 
 They separated, till again called together 
 by the tolling of the curfew. The Queen 
 appeared grave, but firm and resolved ; the 
 Lady Fleming, with the art of an expe- 
 rienced courtier, knew perfectly how to dis- 
 guise her inward tremors ; Catherine's eye 
 was fired, as if with the boldness of the pro- 
 ject, and the half sm.ile which dwelt upon 
 her beautiful mouth seemed to contemn all 
 the risk and all the consequences of dis- 
 covery ; Roland, who felt how much suc- 
 cess depended on his own address and bold- 
 ness, summoned together his whole pre*
 
 THE ABBOT. 257 
 
 sence of mind, and, if he found his spirits 
 flag for a moment, cast his eye upon Ca- 
 therine, whom he thought he had never 
 seen look so beautiful. — I may be foiled, 
 he thought, but with this reward in pros- 
 pect, they must bring the devil to aid them 
 ere they cross me. Thus resolved, he stood, 
 like a greyhound in the slips, with hand, 
 heart, eye intent upon making and seizing 
 opportunity for the execution of their pro- 
 ject. 
 
 The keys had, with the wonted ceremo- 
 nial, been presented to the Lady Lochle- 
 ven. She stood with her back to the case- 
 ment, which, like that of the Queen's apart- 
 ment, commanded a view of Kinross, with 
 the church, which stands at some distance 
 from the town, and nearer to the lake, 
 then connected with the town by strag- 
 gling cottages. With her back to this case- 
 ment, then, and her face to the table, on 
 which the keys lay for an instant while she 
 tasted the various dishes which were placed
 
 258 THE ABBOT. 
 
 there, stood the Lady of Lochleven, more 
 provokingly intent than usual — so at least 
 it seemed to her prisoners — upon the huge 
 and heavy bunch of iron, the implements of 
 their restraint. Just when, having finished 
 her ceremony as taster of the Queen's table, 
 she was about to take up the keys, the 
 page, who stood beside her, and had hand- 
 ed her the dishes in succession, looked side- 
 ways to the church-yard, and exclaimed he 
 saw corpse candles in the church-yard. The 
 Lady of Lochleven was not without a touch, 
 though a slight one, of the superstitions of 
 the time ; the fate of her sons made her 
 alive to omens, and a corpse -light, as it was 
 called, in the family burial-place, boded 
 death. She turned her head towards the 
 casement — saw a distant glimmering — for- 
 got her charge for one second, and in that 
 second were lost the whole fruits of her 
 former vigilance. The page held the forged 
 keys under his cloak, and with great dex- 
 terity exchanged them for the real ones. 
 His utmost address could not prevent a
 
 THE ABBOT. 259 
 
 slight clash as he took up the latter bunch. 
 " Who touches the keys ?" said the Lady ; 
 and while the page answered that the sleeve 
 of his cloak had stirred them, she looked 
 round, possessed herself of the bunch which 
 now occupied the place of the genuine keys, 
 and again turned to gaze at the supposed 
 corpse-candles. 
 
 " I hold these gleams," she said, after a 
 moment's consideration, " to come, not 
 from the church-yard, but from the hut of 
 the old gardener Blinkhoolie. I wonder 
 what thrift that churl drives, that of late he 
 hath ever had light in his house till the 
 night grew deep. I thought him an in- 
 dustrious, peaceful man — if he turns reset- 
 ter of idle companions and night-walkers, 
 the place must be rid of him." 
 
 " He may work his baskets perchance," 
 said the page, desirous to stop the train of 
 her suspicion. 
 
 *' Or nets, may he not ?" answered the 
 Lady.
 
 260 TH£ ABBOT. 
 
 " Ay, madam," said Roland, " for trout 
 and salmon." 
 
 " Or for fools and knaves," replied the 
 Lady ; '' but this shall be looked after to- 
 morrow. I wish your Grace and your com- 
 pany a good evening. — Randal, attend us." 
 And Randal, who waited in the anti-cham- 
 ber, after having surrendered his bunch of 
 key?, gave his escort to his mistress as usual, 
 while, leaving the Queen's apartments, she 
 retired to her own. 
 
 " To-morrow ?" said the page, rubbing 
 his hands with glee as he repeated theLady's 
 last words, " fools look to to-morrow, and 
 wise folk use to-night. — May I pray you, 
 my gracious Liege, to retire for one half 
 hour, until all the castle is composed to rest. 
 I must go and rub with oil these blessed 
 implements of our freedom. Courage and 
 constancy, and all will go well, providing 
 our friends on the shore fail not to send the 
 boat you spoke of." 
 
 *• Fear them not," said Catherine, " they
 
 THE ABBOT. 26l 
 
 are true as steel — if our dear mistress do 
 but maintain her noble and royal courage." 
 " Doubt not me, Catherine," replied the 
 Queen ; " a while since I was overborne, 
 but I have recalled the spirit of my earlier 
 and more sprightly days, when I used to 
 accompany my armed nobles, and wish to 
 be myself a man, to know what life it was 
 to be in the fields with sword and buckler, 
 jack and knapsack." 
 
 " O, the lark lives not a gayer life, nor 
 sings a lighter and gayer song than the 
 merry soldier," answered Catherine. "Your 
 Grace shall be in the midst of them soon, 
 and the look of such a liege Sovereign will 
 make each of your host worth three in the 
 hour of need j but I must to my task." 
 
 <' We have but brief time," said Queen 
 Mary ; " one of the two lights in the cottage 
 is extinguished — that shows the boat is put 
 off." 
 
 *' They will row very slow," said the 
 page, *' or kent where depth permits, to 
 13
 
 262 THE ABBOT. 
 
 avoid noise* — To our several gear — I will 
 communicate with the good Father." 
 
 At the dead hour of midnight, when all 
 was silent in the castle, the page put the 
 key into the lock of the wicket which open- 
 ed into the garden, and which was at the 
 bottom of a staircase that descended from 
 the Queen's apartment. *' Now, turn smooth 
 and softly, thou good bolt," said he, " if 
 ever oil softened rust !" and his precautions 
 had been so effectual, that the bolt revolved 
 with little or no sound of resistance He 
 ventured not to cross the threshold, but ex- 
 changing a word with the disguised Abbot, 
 asked if the boat were ready. 
 
 " This half hour," said the centinel, " she 
 lies beneath the wall, too close under the 
 islet to be seen by the warder, but I fear 
 she will hardly escape his notice in putting 
 off again." 
 
 " The darkness," said the page, '' and 
 our profound silence, may take her off un- 
 observed, as she came in. Hildebrand has
 
 THE ABBOT. 263 
 
 the watch on the tower — a heavy-headed 
 knave, who holds a can of ale to be the best 
 head-piece upon a night-watch. He sleeps 
 for a wager." 
 
 " Then bring the Queen," said the Ab- 
 bot, " and I will call Henry Seyton to assist 
 them to the boat." 
 
 On tiptoe, with noiseless step and sup. 
 pressed breath, trembling at every rustle of 
 their own apparel, one after another the fair 
 prisoners glided down the winding stair, 
 under the guidance of Roland Graeme, and 
 were received at the wicket-gate by Henry 
 Seyton and the churchman. The former 
 seemed instantly to take upon himself the 
 whole direction of the enterprize. " My 
 Lord Abbot," he said, " give my sister your 
 arm — I will conduct the Queen — and the 
 youth will have the honour to guide Lady 
 Fleming." 
 
 This was no time to dispute the arrange- 
 ment, although it was not that which Ro- 
 land Grseme would have chosen. Catherine 
 Seyton, who well knew the garden path,
 
 264 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tripped on before like a sylph, rather lead- 
 ing the Abbot than receiving assistance — 
 the Queen, her native spirit prevailing over 
 female fear, and a thousand painful reflec- 
 tions, moved steadily forward, by assistance 
 of Henry Seyton — while the Lady Fleming 
 encumbered with her fears and her helpless- 
 ness Roland Grseme, who followed in the 
 rear, and who bore under the other arm a 
 packetofnecessariesbelonging to the Queen. 
 The door of the garden, which communica- 
 ted with the shore of the islet, yielded to one 
 of the keys of which Roland had possessed 
 himself, although not until he had tried se- 
 veral, — a moment of anxious terror and ex- 
 pectation. The ladies vvere then partly led, 
 partly carried, to the side of the lake, where a 
 boat with six rowers attended them, the men 
 couched along the bottom to secure them 
 from observation. Henry Seyton placed 
 the Queen in the stern j the Abbot offered 
 to assist Catherine, but she was seated by 
 the Queen's side before he could utter his 
 proffer of help j and Roland Graeme was
 
 THE ABBOT. 265 
 
 just lifting Lady Fleming over the boat- 
 side, when a thought suddenly occurred to 
 him, and exclaiming, '• Forgotten, forgot- 
 ten ! wait me but one half minute," he re- 
 placed on the shore the helpless lady of the 
 bed-chamber, threw the Queen's packet into 
 the boat, and sped back through the garden 
 with the noiseless speed of a bird on the 
 wing. 
 
 ** By Heaven he is false at last !" said 
 Seyton ; '* I ever feared it !" 
 
 " He is as true," said Catherine, ♦* as 
 Heaven itself, and that I will maintain." 
 
 " Be silent, minion," said her brother, 
 *'for shame, if not for fear — Fellows, put off, 
 and row for your lives." 
 
 ♦' Help me, help me on board !" said the 
 deserted Lady Fleming, and that louder 
 than prudence warranted. 
 
 *« Put off — put offi" cried Henry Seyton ; 
 " leave all behind, so the Queen is safe." 
 
 «♦ Will you permit this, madam ?" said 
 Catherine, imploringly ; *' you leave your 
 deliverer to death." 
 
 VOL. ni. M
 
 266 TH£ ABBOT. 
 
 " I will not," said the Queen. — " Seyton, 
 I command you to stay at every risk." 
 
 *• Pardon me, madam, if I disobey," said 
 the intractable young man ; and with one 
 hand lifting in Lady Fleming, he begun 
 himself to push off" the boat. 
 
 She was two fathoms lengtli from the 
 shore, and the rowers were getting her 
 head round, when Roland Grasme, arriving, 
 bounded from the beach, and attained the 
 boat, overturning Seyton, on whom he 
 lighted. The youth swore a deep but sup- 
 pressed oath, and stopping Graeme as he 
 stepped towards the stern, said, " Your 
 place is not with high-born dames — keep at 
 the head and trim the vessel — Now give 
 way — give way — Row, for God and the 
 Queen !" 
 
 Tlie rowers obeyed, and began to pull 
 vigorously. 
 
 " Vr'b.y did ye not miiffle the oars .?" said 
 Roland Giseme; " the dasli must awaken 
 the cenlinel — Row, lad?, aiul get out of 
 shot ; for had not old Hildebrand, tlie war-
 
 THE ABBOT. 26? 
 
 dcr, supped upon poppy-porridge, this 
 whi'^pering must have waked him." 
 
 " It was all thine own delay," said Sey- 
 ton ; " thou shalt reckon with me hereaf- 
 ter for that and other matters." 
 
 But lloland's apprehension was verified 
 too instantly to permit him to reply. The 
 cenlincl, whose slumbering had withstood 
 the whispering, w^as alarmed by the dash of 
 the oars. His challenge was instantly 
 heard. *' A boat- — a boat ! — bring to, or I 
 shoot !" And, as they continued to ply their 
 oar?, lie called aloud, " Treason ! treason !" 
 rung the bell of the castle, and dischar- 
 ged his harquebuss at the boat. The ladies 
 crowded on each other like startled wild- 
 fowl, at the flash and report of the piece, 
 while the men urged the rowers to the ut- 
 most speed. They heard more than one 
 ball whiz along the surface of the lake, at 
 no great distance from their little bark ; and 
 from the lights, which glanced like meteors 
 from window to window, it was evident
 
 268 THE ABBOT. 
 
 the whole castle was al irmed, and their es- 
 cape discovered. 
 
 *' Pull!" again exclaimed Seyton ; " stretch 
 to your oars, or I will spur you to the task 
 with my dagger — they will launch a boat 
 immediately." 
 
 *' That is cared for," said Roland ; '* I 
 locked gate and wicket on them v»hen I 
 went back, and no boat Avill stir from the 
 island this night, if doors of good oak and 
 bolts of iron can keep men within stone- 
 walls. — And now I resign my office of 
 porter of Lochleven, and give the keys to 
 the Kelpie's keeping.'' 
 
 As the heavy keys plunged in the lake, 
 the Abbot, who till then had been repeat- 
 ing his prayer?, exclaimed, *' Now, bless 
 thee, my son ! for thy ready prudence puts 
 shame on us all." 
 
 " I knew," said ^lary, drawing her breath 
 more freely, as they WTre now out of reach 
 of the musketry — " I knew my squire's 
 truth, promptiiude, and sagacity. — I must
 
 THE ABBOT. 269 
 
 have liim dear friends with my no less 
 true knight?, Douglas and Seaton — but 
 wliere, then, is Douglas ?" 
 
 •' Here, madam," answered the deep and 
 melancholy voice of the boatman who sate 
 next her, and who acted as steersman. 
 
 " Alas ! was it you who stretched your 
 body before me," said the Queen, " when 
 the balls were raining around us ?" 
 
 " Believe you," said he, in a low tone, 
 " that Douglas would have resigned to any 
 one the chance of protecting his Queen's 
 life with his own?" 
 
 The dialogue was here interrupted by a 
 shot or two, from one of those small pieces 
 of artillery, called falconets, then used in 
 defending castles. The shot was too vague 
 to have any effect, but the broader flash, 
 the deeper sound, the louder return, which 
 was made by the midnight echoes of Ben- 
 narty, terrified and imposed silence on the 
 liberated prisoners. The boat was along- 
 side of a rude quay or landing place, run- 
 ning out from a garden of considerable ex-
 
 270 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tent, ere any of them again attempted to 
 speak. They landed, and while the Abbot 
 returned thanks aloud to Heaven, wliich 
 had thus far favoured their enterpriz.', Dou- 
 glas enjoyed the best reward of his despe- 
 rate undertaking, in conducting the Queen 
 to the house of the gardener. Yet, not un~ 
 mindful of Roland Graeme even in that 
 moment of terror and exhaustion, Mary 
 expressly commanded Seyton to give his 
 assistance to Fleming, while Catherine vo- 
 luntarily, and vvithoutbidding, took the arm 
 of the page. Seyton presently resigned 
 Lady Fleming to the care of the Abbot, 
 alleging, he must look after their horses ; 
 and his attendants, disencumbering them- 
 selves of their boat- cloaks, hastened to as- 
 sist him. 
 
 While Mary spent in the gar Icner's cot- 
 tage tlie few minutes which were necessary 
 to prepare the steeds for their departure, 
 she perceived, in a corner, the -old man to 
 whom the garden belonged, and calli^d him
 
 THE ABBOT. 271 
 
 to approach. He came as it were with re- 
 luctance. 
 
 " How, brother," said the Abbot, "so slow 
 to welcome thy royal Queen and mistres?, 
 to liberty and to her kingdom !" 
 
 The old man, thus admonished, came for- 
 ward, and in good terms of speech, g^ve 
 her Grace joy of her deliverance. The 
 Q;ieen returned him thanks in the most 
 gracious manner, and added, ** It will re- 
 main to us to oft'er some immediate reward 
 for your fidelity, for we wot well your house 
 has been long the refuge in which our trusty 
 servants have met to concert measures for 
 our freedom." So saying, she offered gold, 
 and added, *• We will consider your ser- 
 vices more fully hereafter." 
 
 *' Kneel, brother," said the Abbot, "kneel 
 instantly, and thank her Grace's kindness." 
 •' Good brother, that wert once a few 
 steps under me, and art still many years 
 younger," replied the gardener pettishly, 
 *• let me do mine acknowledgments in my 
 own way. Queens have knelt to me ere
 
 272 THE ABBOT. 
 
 now, and in truth my knees are too old and 
 stiff to bend even to this lovely-faced lady. 
 May it please your Grace, if your Grace's 
 servants have occupied my house, so that I 
 could not call it mine own — if they have 
 trodden down my flowers in the zeal of 
 their midnight comings and goings, and de- 
 stroyed the hope of the fruit season, by 
 bringing their war- horses into my garden, 1 
 do but crave of your Grace in requital, 
 that you will chuse your residence as far 
 from me as possible. I am an old man, 
 who would willingly creep to my grave as 
 easily as he can, in peace, good will, and 
 quiet labour." 
 
 " I promise you fairly, good man," said 
 the Queen, ** I will not make yonder castle 
 my residence again, if I can help it. But 
 let me press on you this money — it will 
 make some amends for the havoc we have 
 made in your little garden and orchard." 
 
 ♦' I thank your Grace, but it, will make 
 me not the least amends," said the old man. 
 *' The ruined labours of a whole year are
 
 THE ABBOr. 27S 
 
 not so easily replaced to him vho has per 
 chance but that one year to live ; and be- 
 sides, they tell me I must leave this place 
 and become a wanderer in mine old age — 
 1 that have nothing on earth saving these 
 fruit-trees, and a few old parchments and 
 family secrets not worth knowing. As for 
 gold, if I had loved it, I might have re- 
 mained Lord Abbot of Saint Mary's — and 
 yet, I wot not — for, if Abbot Boniface be 
 but the poor peasant Blinkhoolie, his suc- 
 cessor the Abbot Ambrosius is still trans- 
 muted for the worse into the guise of a 
 sword-and-buckler-man." 
 
 " Is this indeed the Abbot Boniface of 
 whom 1 have heard ?" said the Queen. ** It 
 is I who should have bent the knee for your 
 blessing, good Father." 
 
 "• Bend no knee to me, Lady ! The bless- 
 ing of an old man who is no longer an Ab- 
 bot, go vith you over dale and down — I 
 hear the trampling of your horses." 
 
 '* Farewell, Father," said the Queen. 
 •< When we are once more seated at Holy^- 
 M 2
 
 274 THE ABBOT. 
 
 rood, we will neither forget thee nor thine 
 injured garden." 
 
 *' Forget us both," said the Ex- Abbot 
 Boniface, «« and may God be with you !" 
 
 As they hurried out of the house, they 
 heard the old man talking and muttering 
 to himself, as he liastily drew bolt and bar 
 behind them. 
 
 " Therevenge of the Douglasses will reacli 
 the poor old man," said the Queen. " God 
 help me, I ruin every one whom 1 ap- 
 proach." 
 
 " His safety is cared for," said Seyton ; 
 " he must not remain here, but will be pri- 
 vately conducted to a place of greater se- 
 curity. But I would your Grace wx^'e in 
 your saddle. — To horse ! to horse !" 
 
 The party of Seyton and of Douglas were 
 increased to about ten by those attendants 
 who had remained with the horses. The 
 Queen and her ladies, with all the rest who 
 came from the boat, were instantly mount- 
 ed, and holding aloof from the village, vvhich 
 was already alarmed by the firing from the 
 
 12
 
 THE ABBOT. 275 
 
 castle, with Douglas acting as their guide, 
 they soon reached the open ground, and 
 began to ride as fast as was consistent with 
 keeping together in good order,
 
 276 THE ABBOT, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. • 
 
 He mounted himself on a coal-black steed. 
 
 And her on a freckled grey. 
 With a bugelet horn hung down from his side, 
 
 And roundly they rode away. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 The influence of the free air, the rushing 
 of the horses over high and low, the ring- 
 ing of the bridles, the excitation at once 
 arising from a sense of freedom and of ra- 
 pid motion, gradually di.^pellcd the con- 
 fused and dejected sort of stupefaction by 
 which Queen IMary was at first overwhelm- 
 ed. She could not at last conceal the change 
 of her feelings to the person Avho rode at her 
 rein, and who she doubted not was the Fa- 
 ther Ambrosius ; for Seyton, with all the 
 heady impetuosity of a youth, proud, and 
 justly so, of his first successful adventure. 
 1
 
 THE ABBOT. 277 
 
 assumed all the bustle and importance of 
 commander of the little party, which escort- 
 ed, in the language of the time, the For- 
 tune of Scotland. He now led the van, 
 now checked his bounding steed till the 
 rear had .come up, exhorted the leaders to 
 keep a steady, though rapid pace, arid com- 
 manded those who were hindmost of the 
 party to use their spurs, and allow no in- 
 terval to take place in their line of march ; 
 and anon he was beside the Queen, or her 
 ladies, enquiring how they brooked the has- 
 ty journey, and whether they had any com- 
 mands for him. But while Sey ton thus busi- 
 ed himself with some advantage, and a good 
 deal of ostentation, the horseman who rode 
 beside the Queen gave her his full and un- 
 divided attention, as if he had been waiting 
 upon some superior being. When the road 
 was rugged and dangerous, he abandoned 
 almost entirely tlie care of his own horse, 
 and kept his hand constantly upon the 
 Queen's bridle ; a river or larger brook tra- 
 versed their course, and his left arm retain-
 
 278 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ed her in the saddle, while his right held 
 her palfrey's rein. 
 
 " I had not thought, reverend Father," 
 said the Queen, when they reached the 
 other bank, " that the convent bred such 
 good horsemen." — The person she address- 
 ed sighed, but made no other answer. — 
 '•' I know not how it is," said Queen iSIary, 
 " either the sense of freedom, or the plea- 
 sure of mv favourite exercise, from which 
 I have been so long debarred, or both com- 
 bined, seem to have given wings to me — 
 no fish ever shot through the water, no bird 
 through the air, with the hurried feeling of 
 liberty and rapture with which I sweep 
 through this night-v/ind, and over these 
 wolds. Tsay, such is the magic of feeling 
 myself once more in the saddle, that I could 
 ahnost swear I am at this moment mount- 
 ed on my own favourite Kosabclle, who was 
 never matched in Scotland for swiftness, for 
 ease of motion, and for sureness of foot." 
 
 " And if the horse which bears so dear 
 a burtlien could speak," answered the deep
 
 THE ABBOT. 270 
 
 voice of the melancholy George of Douglas, 
 " would she not reply, who but Rosabelle 
 ought at such an emergence as this to serve 
 her beloved mistress, or who but Douglas 
 ought to hold her bridle-rein !" 
 
 Queen Mary started ; she foresaw at onee 
 all the evils like to arise to herself and him 
 from the deep enthusiastic passion of this 
 youth ; but her feelings as a woman, grate- 
 ful at once and compassionate, prevented 
 her assuming the dignity of the Queen, and 
 she endeavoured to continue the conversa- 
 tion in an indifferent tone. 
 
 "' iSIethought," she said, " I heard that, 
 at the division of my spoils, llosabelle had 
 become the property of Lord Morton's pa- 
 ramour and ladye-love, Alice." 
 
 " The noble palfrey had indeed been des- 
 tined to so base a lot," answered Douglas ; 
 *' she was kept under four keys, and under 
 the charge of a numerous crew of grooms 
 aiid domestics — but Queen Mary needed 
 llosabelle, and Rosabelle is here." 
 '•' And was it well, Douglas," said Queen
 
 280 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Mary, " when such fearful risks of various 
 kinds must needs be encountered, that you 
 should augment their perils to yourself, for 
 a subject of so little moment as a palfrey ?" 
 
 " Do you call that of little moment whicli 
 has afforded you a moment's pleasure ? — 
 Did you not start with joy when I first said 
 you were mounted on llosabelle ? — And to 
 purchase you that pleasure, though it were 
 to last no longer than the flash of lightning 
 doth, w^ould not Douglas have risked his 
 life a thousand times !" 
 
 " O, peace, Douglas, peace," said the 
 Queen, " this is an unfitting language ; and, 
 besides, I would speak," said she, recollect- 
 ing herself, " with the Abbot of Saint Ma- 
 ry's — Nay, Douglas, I will not let you quit 
 my rein in displeasure. ' 
 
 " Displeasure, lady !" answered Douglas ; 
 " alas ! sorrow is all that I can feel for your 
 well-v>'arranted contempt — I should be as 
 soon displeased with Heaven for refusing 
 the wildest wish which mortal can form." 
 
 " Abide by my rein, however," said Mary.
 
 THE ABBOT. 281 
 
 " there is room for my Lord Abbot on the 
 other side ; and, besides, I doubt if his as- 
 sistance would be so useful to llosabelle and 
 me as yours has been, should the road again 
 require it." 
 
 The Abbot came up on the other side, 
 and she immediately opened a conversation 
 with him on the topic of the state of parties, 
 and the plan fittest for her to pursue in con- 
 sequence of her deliverance. In this con- 
 versation Douglas took little share, and ne- 
 ver but when directly applied to by the 
 Queen, while, as before, his attention seem- 
 ed entirely engrossed by the care of the 
 Queen's personal safety. She learned, how- 
 ever, she had a new obligation to him, since 
 by his contrivance the Abbot, wdiom he had 
 furnished with the family pass-word, was 
 introduced into the castle as one of the ffar- 
 rison. 
 
 I^ong before day-break they ended their 
 hasty and perilous journey before the gates 
 of West Niddrie, a castle in West Lothian, 
 belonging to Lord Seyton. When the 
 Queen was about to alight, Henry Seyton,
 
 282 THE ABBOT. 
 
 preventing Douglas, received her in his 
 arms, and, kneeling down, prayed her Ma- 
 jesty to enter the house of his father, her 
 faithful servant. 
 
 " Your Grace," he added, " may repose 
 yourself here in perfect safety — it is already 
 garrisoned with good men for your protec- 
 tion ; and I have sent a post to my father, 
 whose instant arrival, at the head of five 
 hundred men, may be looked for. Do not 
 dismay yourself, therefore, should your 
 sleep be broken by the trampling of horse ; 
 but only think that here are some scores 
 more of the saucy Seytons come to attend 
 you." 
 
 " And by better friends than the saucy 
 Seytons, a Scottish Queen cannot be guard- 
 ed," replied Mary. " llosabellc went fleet 
 as the summer breeze, and well nigh as easy ; 
 but it is long since I have been a traveller, 
 and I feel that repose will be welcome. — Ca- 
 therine, ma mignonne, you must sleep in my 
 apartment to-night, and bid me welcome to 
 your noble father's castle. — Thanks, thanks 
 to all my kind deliverers — thanks, and a
 
 THE ABBOT. 2 S3 
 
 good night is all I can now offer ; but if I 
 climb once more to the upper side of For- 
 tune's wheel, I will not have her bandage. 
 JSIary Stuart will keep her eyes open, and 
 distinguish her friends. — Seyton, I need 
 scarce recommend the venerable Abbot, the 
 Douglas, and my page, to your honourable 
 care and hospitality." 
 
 Henry Seyton bowed, and Catherine and 
 Lady Fleming attended the Queen to her 
 apartment ; where, acknowledging to them 
 that she should have found it difficult in 
 that moment to keep her promise of hold- 
 ing her eyes open, she resigned herself to 
 repose, and awakened not till the morinng 
 was advanced. 
 
 Mary's first feeling when she awoke, was 
 the doubt of her freedom ; and the impulse 
 prompted her to start from bed, and hastily 
 throwing her mantle over her shoulders, to 
 look out at the casement of her apartment. 
 — O sight of joy ! instead of the crystal sheet 
 of Lochleven, unaltered save by the influ- 
 ence of the wind, a landscape of wood and
 
 284 THE ABBOT. 
 
 moorland lay before her, and the park 
 around the castle was occupied by the troops 
 of her most faithful and most favourite 
 nobles. 
 
 " Rise, rise, Catherine," cried the enrap- 
 tured Princess ; " arise and come hither ! — 
 here are swords and spears in true hands^ 
 and glittering armour onloyal breasts. Here 
 are banners, my girl, floating in the wdnd, 
 as lightly as summer-clouds — Great God I 
 what pleasure to my weary eyes to trace 
 their devices — thine own brave father's — 
 the princely Hamilton's — the faithfulFlem- 
 ing's — See — see — they have caught a glimpse 
 of me, and throng towards the window !" 
 
 She flung the casement open, and with 
 her bare bead, from which the tresses flew 
 back loose and dishevelled, her fair arm 
 slenderly veiled by her mantle, returned 
 by motion and sign, the exulting shouts of 
 the warriors, which echoed for many a fur- 
 Ions; around. ^Vhen the first burst of ec- 
 static joy was over, she recollected how light- 
 ly she was dressed, and, putting her hands
 
 THE ABBOT. 285 
 
 to her face, which was covered with blushes 
 at the recollection, withdrew abruptly from 
 the window. The cause of her retreat was 
 easily conjectured, and increased the gene- 
 ral enthusiasm for a Princess, who had for- 
 gotten her rank in her haste toacknowledge 
 the services of her subjects. The unadorn- 
 ed beauties of the lovely woman, too, mo- 
 ved the military spectators more than the 
 highest display of her regal state might, 
 and what might have seemed too free in her 
 mode of appearing before them, was more 
 than atoned for by the enthusiasm of the 
 moment, and by the delicacy evinced in her 
 hasty retreat. Often as the shouts died 
 away, as often were they renewed till wood 
 and hill rung again ; and many a deep oath 
 was made that morning on the cross of the 
 sword, that the hand should not part with 
 the weapon, till Mary Stuart was restored 
 to her rights. But what are the promises, 
 what the hopes of mortals ? In ten days, 
 these "-allant and devoted votaries were 
 
 o 
 
 slain, were captives, or were fled.
 
 286 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ISIary flung herself into the nearest seat, 
 and still blushing, yet half smiling, exclaim- 
 ed, " Ma imgnonne, Avhat will they think 
 of me ! — to shew myself to tliem with my 
 bare feet hastily thrust into the slippers — 
 only this loose mantle about me — my hair 
 loose on my shoulders — my arms and neck 
 so bare — O, the best they can suppose is, 
 that her abode in yonder dungeon has turn- 
 ed tlieir Queen's brain ! Eut my rebel sub- 
 jects saw w.Q exposed wlien I was in the 
 depth of afiiiction, Vv'hy sliouid I hold colder 
 ceremony with thcsefaithful and loyal mcri? 
 —Call Fleming, however — I trust she has 
 not forgotten the little mail Vvith my appa- 
 rel — We must be as brave as we can, w//--- 
 nomic.'''' 
 
 " iVav, madam, our j/ood I^adv Flcmiu'r 
 was in no case to remember any thing." 
 
 " You jest, Catherine," said the Queen, 
 somewhat offended ; " it is not in her na- 
 ture, surely, to forget her duty so far as to 
 leave us witliout a change of apparel." 
 
 " Iloland Gramme, madam, took care of
 
 THE ABBOT. 287 
 
 that," answered Catherine ; " for he threw 
 the mail, wdth your highness's clothes and 
 jewels, into the boat, ere he ran back to lock 
 the gate — I never saw so awkward a page 
 as that youth — the packet well nigh fell on 
 my head." 
 
 " lie shall make thee amends, my girl," 
 said Queen Mary, laughing, " for that, and 
 all other offences given. But call Fleming, 
 and let us put ourselves into apparel to meet 
 our faithful lords." 
 
 Such had been the preparations, and such 
 was the skill of Lady Fleming, that the 
 Queen appeared before her assembled no- 
 bles in such attire as became, though it 
 coidd not enhance, her natural dignity. 
 With the most winning courtesy, she ex- 
 pressed to each individual her grateful 
 thanks, and dignified not only every noble, 
 but many of the lesser barons by her parti- 
 cular attention. 
 
 " And whither now, niy lords ?" she 
 said ; '•' what way do your councils deter- 
 imne for us ?"
 
 288 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " To Draphane Castle," replied Lord 
 Arbroath, " if your Majesty is so pleased ; 
 and thence to Dumbarton, to place your 
 Grace's person in safety, after which we 
 long to prove if these traitors will abide us 
 in the field." 
 
 "' And when do we journey ?" 
 
 " We propose," said Lord Seyton, " if 
 your Grace's fatigue will perniit, to take 
 horse after the morning's meal." 
 
 " You. pleasure, my lords, is mine," re- 
 plied the Queen ; " we will rule our jour- 
 ney by your wisdom now, and hope here- 
 after to have the advantage of governing 
 by it our kingdom. — You will permit my 
 ladies and me, my good lords, to break our 
 fasts along with you — We must be half 
 soldiers ourselves, and set state apart." 
 
 Low bowed many a helmeted head at 
 this gracious proffer, when the Queen, glan- 
 cing her eyes through the assembled lead- 
 ers, missed both Douglas and Roland 
 Gramme, and enquired for them in a whis- 
 per at Catherine Seyton.
 
 THE ABBOT. 289 
 
 " They are in yonder oratory, madam, 
 sad enough," replied Catherine ; and the 
 Queen observed that her favourite's eyes 
 were red with weeping. 
 
 " This must not be," said the Queen. 
 " Keep the company amused — I will seek 
 them, and introduce them myself." 
 
 She went into the oratory, where the 
 first she met was George Douglas, stand- 
 ing, or rather reclining, in the recess of a 
 window, his back rested against the wall, 
 and his arms folded on his breast. At the 
 sight of the Queen he started, and his coun- 
 tenance shewed, for an instant, an expres- 
 sion of intense delight, which was instant- 
 ly exchanged for his usual deep melan- 
 choly. 
 
 " What means this ?" she said ; " Doug- 
 las, why does the first deviser and bold ex- 
 ecutor of the happy scheme for our free- 
 dom, shun the company of his fellow no>- 
 bles, and of the Sovereign whom he has 
 obliged ?" 
 
 VOL. III. N
 
 290 THE ABBOT. 
 
 '' Madam," replied Douglas, " those whoii. 
 you grace with your presence bring fol- 
 lowers to aid your cause, wealth to support 
 your state, — can offer you halls in which to 
 feast, and impregnable castles for your de- 
 fence, I am a houseless and landless man — 
 disinherited by my father, and laid under 
 his malediction — disowned by my name 
 and kindred, who bring nothing to your 
 standard but a single sword, and the poor 
 life of its owner." 
 
 " Do you mean to upbraid me, Dou- 
 glas," replied the Queen, " by shewing 
 what you haA'e lost for my sake ?" 
 
 " God forbid, madam," interrupted the 
 young man, eagerly ; " were it to do again, 
 and had I ten times as much rank and 
 Avealth, and twenty times as many friends 
 to lose, my losses would be overpaid by 
 the first step you made, as a free princess, 
 upon the soil of your native kingdom." 
 
 " And what then ails you, that you will 
 not rejoice with those who rejoice upon the 
 same joyful occasion '^"' said the Queen.
 
 THE ABBOT. 201 
 
 ^* Madam," replied the youth, " though 
 exheridated and disowned, I am yet a 
 Douglas : with most of yonder nobles my 
 family have been in feud for ages — a cold 
 reception amongst them were an insult — 
 and a kind one yet more humiliating." 
 
 " For shame, Douglas," replied the 
 Queen, " shake off this unmanly gloom I— 
 I can make thee match for the best of them 
 in title and fortune, and, believe me, I will 
 — Go then amongst them, I command you. ' 
 
 " That word," said Douglas, '" is enough 
 — I go. This only let me say, that not for 
 wealth or title w^ould I have done that 
 which I have done — ]Mary Stuart will not, 
 and the Queen cannot reward me." 
 
 So saying, he left the oratory, mingled 
 with the nobles, and placed himself at the 
 bottom of the table. The Queen looked 
 after him, and put her kerchief to her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Now, Our Lady pity me," bhe said, 
 " for no sooner are my prison-cares ended.
 
 292 THE ABBOT. 
 
 than those which beset me as a woman and 
 a queen again thicken around me. — Hap- 
 py Elizabeth ! to whom political interest is 
 every thing, and whose heart never betrays 
 thy head. — And now must I seek this 
 other boy, if I would prevent daggers- 
 drawing betwixt him and the young Sey- 
 ton." 
 
 Roland Graeme was in the same ora- 
 tory, but at such a distance from Douglas, 
 that he could not overhear what passed be- 
 twixt the Queen and him. He also was 
 moody and thoughtful, but cleared his brow 
 at the Queen's question, " How now, Ro- 
 land? you are negligent in your attendance 
 this morning. Are you so much overcome 
 with your night's ride ?" 
 
 " Not so, gracious madam," answered 
 Grasme ; " but I am told the Page of Loch- 
 leven is not the Page of Niddrie-Castle ; 
 and so JNIaster Henry Seyton hath in a 
 manner been pleased to supersede my at- 
 tendance."
 
 THE ABBOT. 293 
 
 " Now, Heaven forgive me," said the 
 Queen, " how soon these cock-chickens 
 begin to spar ! — with children and boys, at 
 least, I may be a queen. — I will have you 
 friends. — Some one send me Henry Sey- 
 ton hither." As she spoke the last words 
 aloud, the youth whom she had named en- 
 tered the apartment. " Come hither," she 
 said, " Henry Seyton — I will have you 
 give your hand to this youth, who so well 
 aided in the plan of my escape." 
 
 " Willingly, madam," answered Seyton, 
 " so that the youth will grant me, as a 
 boon, that he touch not the hand of an- 
 other Seyton whom he knows of. My hand 
 has passed current for her's with him be- 
 fore now — and to win my friendship, he 
 must give up thoughts of my sister's 
 love." 
 
 •• Henry Bey ton," said the Queen, " does 
 it become you to add any condition to my 
 command ?"
 
 294 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Madam," said Henry, '* I am the ser- 
 vant of your Grace's throne, son to the 
 most loyal man in Scotland. Our goods, 
 our castles, our blood, are your's. Our ho- 
 nour is in our own keeping. I could say 
 more, but" 
 
 " Nay, speak on, rude boy," said the 
 Queen ; " what avails it that I am released 
 from Lochleven, if I am thus enthralled 
 under the yoke of my pretended deliverers, 
 and prevented from doing justice to one 
 who has deserved as well of me as your- 
 self?" 
 
 " Be not in this distemperature for me, 
 sovereign lady," said lloland ; " this young 
 gentleman, being the faithful servant of 
 yoin Grace, and the brother of Catherine 
 Seyton, bears that about him which will 
 chiii'in dovv'u my passion at the hottest." 
 
 ''• I warn thee once more," said Henry 
 Seyton haughtily, " that you make no 
 s])eech which may infer that the daughter 
 oi' Lord Sovton can be auo-ht to thee be-
 
 THE ABBOT. 295 
 
 yond what she is to every churl's blood in 
 Scotland." 
 
 The Queen was again about to interfere, 
 for Roland's complexion rose, and it became 
 somewhat questionable how long his love 
 for Catherine would suppress the natural 
 fire of his temper. But the interposition of 
 another person, hitherto unseen, prevented 
 Mary's interference. There was in the 
 oratoiy a separate shrine, inclosed with a 
 high screen of pierced oak, within wliich 
 was placed an image of Saint Bennet, of pe- 
 culiar sanctity. From this recess, in which 
 she had been probably engaged in her de- 
 votions, issued suddenly Magdalen Gnenie, 
 and addressed Henry Sey ton, in reply to his 
 last offensive expressions — " And of what 
 clay, then, are they moulded these Seytons, 
 that the blood of the Granges may not 
 aspire to mingle with theirs ? Know, proud 
 boy, that when I call this youth my daugh- 
 ter's child, I affirm his descent from JNIalise 
 Earl of Strathern, called Malise with the
 
 296 THE ABBOT. 
 
 bright brand ; and I trow the blood of your 
 house springs from no higher source." 
 
 " Good mother," said Seyton, " methinks 
 your sanctity should make you superior 
 to these worldly vanities ; and indeed it 
 seems to have rendered you somewhat ob- 
 livious touching them, since, to be of gentle 
 descent, the father's name and lineage must 
 be as well qualified as the mother's." 
 
 " And if I say he comes of the blood of 
 Avenel by the father's side," replied Mag- 
 dalen Graeme, " name I not blood as richly 
 coloured as thine own ?" 
 
 " Of Avenel ?" said the Queen ; " is my 
 page descended of Avenel ?" 
 
 " Ay, gracious Princess, and the last male 
 heir of that ancient house — Julian Avenel 
 was his father, who fell in battle against the 
 Southron." 
 
 " I have heard the tale of sorrow," said 
 the Queen ; '^ it was thy daughter, then, 
 who followed that unfortunate baron to the 
 field, and died on his body ? Alas ! how
 
 THE ABBOT. 297 
 
 many ways does woman's affection find tx) 
 work out her own misery ! The tale has oft 
 been told and sung in hall and bower — 
 And thou, Roland, art that child of misfor- 
 tune, who was left among the dead and 
 dying ? — Henry Seyton, he is thine equal 
 in blood and birth." 
 
 " Scarcely so," said Henry Seyton, " even 
 were he legitimate ; but if the tale be told 
 and sung aright, Julian Avenel was a false 
 knight, and his leman a frail and credulous 
 maiden." 
 
 " Now, by Heaven, thou liest !" said Ro^ 
 land Graeme, and laid his hand on his sword. 
 The entrance of Lord Seyton, however, pre- 
 vented violence. 
 
 " Save me, my lord," said the Queen, 
 ** and separate these wild and untamed 
 spirits." 
 
 " How, Henry !" said the Baron, " are my 
 castle, and the Queen's presence, no checks 
 on thine insolence and impetuosity ? — And 
 with whom art thou brawling ? — unless my 
 
 N
 
 298 THE ABBOT. 
 
 eye^ spell that token false, it is with the 
 A ery youth who aided me so gallantly in 
 the skirmish with the Leslies — Let me look, 
 fair youth, at the medal which thou wearest 
 in thy ca]). By Saint Bennet, it is the 
 same ! — Henry, I command thee to forbear 
 iiiiUj as thou lovest my blessing" 
 
 " .\nd as you honour my command," said 
 the Queen ; " good service hath he done 
 me. ' 
 
 " Ay, madam,'' replied young Seyton, 
 ''' as when he carried the billet inclosed in 
 the sword- sheath to Lochleven — marry, the 
 good youth knew no more than a pack- 
 horse what he was carrying." 
 
 " But I, who dedicated him to this great 
 work," said ]Magdalen Gramme — •' I, by 
 whose advice and agency this just heir hath 
 beeii unloosed from her thraldom — I, who 
 spared not the last remaining hope of a fall- 
 ing house in this great action — I, at least, 
 knew and counselled ; and what merit may 
 be mine, let the reward, most gracious 
 Queen, dcscoid upon this youth. My nii>
 
 THE ABBOT. 299 
 
 iiistry here is ended ; you are free — a so- 
 vereign Princess, at the head of a gallant 
 army, surrounded by valiant barons — ISly 
 service could avail you no farther, but 
 might well prejudice you; your fortune 
 now rests upon men's hearts and men's 
 swords — may they prove as trusty as the 
 faith of women !" 
 
 " You will not leave us, mother," said 
 the Queen — " you whose practices in our 
 favour were so powerful, who dared so 
 many dangers, and wore so many disguises, 
 to blind our enemies and to confirm our 
 friends — you will not leave us in thj dawn 
 of our reviving fortunes, ere we have time 
 to know and to thank you ?" 
 
 " You cannot know her," answered Mag- 
 dalen Greeme, " who knows not herself — 
 there are times, when, in this woman's frame 
 of mine, there is the strength of him of 
 Gath — in this over-toiled brain, the wisdom 
 of the most sage counsellor — and again the 
 mist is on me, and my strength is weak-
 
 300 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ness, my wisdom folly. I have spoken be- 
 fore princes and cardinals — ay, noble Prin- 
 cTess, even before the princes of thine own 
 house of Lorraine ; and I know not whence 
 the words of persuasion came which flow- 
 ed from my lips, and were drunk in by 
 their ears. — And now, even when I most 
 need words of persuasion, there is some- 
 thing which choaks my voice, and robs me 
 of utterance." 
 
 " If there be aught in my power to do 
 thee pleasure," said the Queen, " the bare- 
 ly naming it shall avail as well as all thine 
 eloquence."' 
 
 " Sovereign Lady," replied the enthusi- 
 ast, " it shames me that at this high mo- 
 ment, something of human frailty should 
 cling to one, whose vows the saints have 
 heard, whose labours in the rightful cause 
 heaven has prospered. But it will be thus 
 while the living spirit is shrined in the clay 
 of mortality — I will yield to the folly," she 
 said, weeping as she spoke, " and it shall 
 
 3
 
 THE ABBOT. 301 
 
 be the last." Then seizmg Roland's hand, 
 she led him to the Queen's feet, kneeling 
 lierself upon one knee, and causing him t© 
 kneel on botli. " Mighty Princess," she 
 said, " look on this flower — it was found 
 by a kindly stranger on a bloody field of 
 battle, and long it was ere my anxious eyes 
 saw, and my arms pressed, all that was left 
 of my only daughter. For your sake, and 
 for that of the holy faith we both profess, 
 I could leave this plant, while it was yet 
 tender, to the nurture of strangers — ay, 
 of enemies, to whom, perchance, his blood 
 would have been as wine, had the heretic 
 Glendinning known that he had in his 
 house the heir of Julian Avenel. Since 
 then I have seen him only in a few hours 
 of doubt and dread, and now I part with 
 the child of my love — for ever — for ever. — 
 O, for every weary step I have made in 
 your rightful cause, in this and in foreign 
 lands, give protection to the child whom I 
 must no more call mine !"
 
 302 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " I swear to you, mother," said the 
 Queen, deeply affected, " that, for your 
 sake and his own, his happiness and for- 
 tunes shall be our charge !" 
 
 " I thank you, daughter of princes," said 
 Magdalen, and pressed her lips, first to the 
 Queen's hand, then to the brow of her 
 grandson. " And now," she said, drying 
 her tears, and rising with dignity, " Earth 
 has had its own, and Heaven claims the 
 rest. — Lioness of Scotland, go forth and 
 conquer ! and if the prayers of a devoted 
 votaress can avail thee, they will rise in 
 many a land, and from many a distant 
 shrine. I will glide like a ghost from land 
 to land, from temple to temple ; and where 
 the very name of my country is unknown, 
 the priests shall ask who is the Queen of 
 that distant northern land, for whom the 
 aged pilgrim was so fervent in prayer. Fare- 
 well ! Honour be thine, and earthly pros- 
 perity, if it be the will of God — if not» may 
 the penance thou shalt do here, ensure thee
 
 THE ABBOT. 303 
 
 happiness hereafter. — Let no one speak or 
 tbllow me — my resolution is taken — my 
 vow cannot be cancelled." 
 
 She glided from their presence as she 
 spoke, and her last look was upon her be- 
 loved grandchild. He would have risen 
 and followed, but the Queen and Lord 
 Seyton interfered. 
 
 ■' Press not on her now," said Lord Sey- 
 ton, " if you would not lose her for ever. 
 Many a time have we seen the sainted mo- 
 ther, and often at the most needful mo- 
 ment ; but to press on her privacy, or to 
 thw^art her purpose, is a crime which she 
 cannot pardon. I trust we shall yet see her 
 at her need — a holy woman she is for cer- 
 tain, and dedicated wholly to prayer and 
 penance ; and hence the heretics hold her 
 as distracted, while Catholics deem her a 
 saint." 
 
 " Let me then hope," said the Queen, 
 " that you, my lord, will aid me in the exe- 
 cution of her last request."
 
 304 THE ABBOT. 
 
 '•' What ! in the protection of my young 
 second ?_cheerfiilly— that is, in all that your 
 majesty can think it fitting to ask of me. — 
 Henry, give thy hand upon the instant to 
 Roland Avenel, for so I presume he must 
 now be called." 
 
 " And shall be Lord of the Barony," 
 said the Queen, " if God prosper our right- 
 ful arms." 
 
 " It can only be to restore it to my kind 
 protectress, who now holds it," said young 
 Avenel. " I would rather be landless all 
 my life, than she lost a rood of ground by 
 me." 
 
 " Nay," said the Queen, looking to Lord 
 Seyton, " his mind matches his birth — 
 Henry, thou hast not yet given thy hand." 
 
 "' It is his," said Henry, giving it with 
 some appearance of courtesy, but whisper- 
 ing Roland at the same time. " For all 
 this, thou hast not my sister's." 
 
 " May it please your Grace," said Lord 
 Seyton, '* now that these passages are over,
 
 THE ABBOT. 305 
 
 to honour our poor meal. Time it were 
 that our banners were reflected in the 
 Clyde. We must to horse with as little 
 stop as may be."
 
 306 THE ABBOT. 
 
 CHAPTLli X. 
 
 Ay, sir — our ancient crown, in tiiese wild times, 
 Oft stood upon a cast — the gamester's ducat. 
 So often staked, and lost, and then regain'd, 
 Scarce knew so many hazards. 
 
 The Spanish Father. 
 
 It is not our object to enter into the his- 
 torical part of the reign of the ill-fated Mary, 
 or to recount, how, during the week which 
 succeeded her flight from Lochleven, her 
 partizans mustered around her with their 
 followers, forming a gallant army, amount- 
 ing to six thousand men. So much light 
 has been lately thrown on the most minute 
 details of the period, by Mr Chalmers, in his 
 valuable History of Queen Mary, that the 
 reader may be safely referred to it for the 
 most full information which ancient records 
 aiford concerning that interesting time. It
 
 THE ABBOT. 307 
 
 is sufficient for our purpose to say, that 
 while Mary's head-quarters were at Hamil- 
 ton, the Regent and his adherents had, in 
 the King's name, assembled a host at Glas- 
 gow, inferior indeed to that of the Queen 
 in numbers, but formidable from the mili- 
 tary talents of Murray, Morton, the Laird 
 of Grange, and others, who had been trained 
 from their youth in foreign and domestic 
 wars. 
 
 In these circumstances, it was the ob- 
 vious policy of Queen Mary to avoid a con- 
 flict, secure that were her person once in 
 safety, the number of her adherents must 
 daily increase ; whereas, the forces of those 
 opposed to her, must, as had frequently hap- 
 pened in the previous history of her reign, 
 have diminished, and their spirits become 
 broken. And so evident was this to her 
 counsellors, that they resolved their first 
 step should be to place the Queen in the 
 strong castle of Dumbarton, there to await 
 the course of events, the arrival of suc- 
 cours from France, and the levies which
 
 308 THE ABBOT. 
 
 were made by her adherents in every pro- 
 vince of Scotland. Accordingly, orders 
 were given, that all men should be on horse- 
 back or on foot, apparelled in their armour, 
 and ready to follow the Queen's standard 
 in array of battle, the avowed determina- 
 tion being to escort her to the castle of 
 Dumbarton in defiance of her enemies. 
 
 The muster was made upon Hamilton- 
 moor, and the march commenced in all the 
 pomp of feudal times. JNIilitary music sound- 
 ed, banners and pennons waved, armour 
 glittered far and wide, and spears glanced 
 and twinkled like stars in a frosty sky. The 
 gallant spectacle of v/arlike parade was on 
 this occasion dignified by the presence of 
 the Queen herself, who, with a fair retinue 
 of ladies and household attendants, and a 
 special guard of gentlemen, amongst whom 
 young Seyton and Roland were distinguish- 
 ed, gave grace at once and confidence to 
 the army, which spread its ample filesbefbre, 
 around, and behind her. Many churchmen 
 also joined the cavalcade, most of whom did
 
 THE ABBOT. 309 
 
 not scruple to assume arms, and declare 
 their intention of wielding them in defence 
 of Mary and the Catholic faith. Not so the 
 Abbot of Saint Mary's. Roland had not 
 seen this prelate since the night of their 
 escape from Lochleven, and he now beheld 
 him, robed in the dress of his order, assume 
 his station near the Queen's person. Ro- 
 land hastened to pull off his basnet, and be- 
 seech the Abbot's blessing. 
 
 *' Thou hast it, my son !" said the priest ; 
 '* I see thee now under thy true name, and 
 in thy rightful garb. The helmet with the 
 holly branch befits your brows well — I have 
 long waited for the hour thou shouldst as- 
 sume it." 
 
 " Then you knew of my descent, my 
 good father !" said Roland. 
 
 *' I did so, but it was under seal of con- 
 fession from thy grandmother ; nor was I 
 at liberty to tell the secret, till she herself 
 should make it known." 
 
 " Her reason for such secrecy, my fa- 
 ther ?" said Roland Avenel.
 
 310 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Fear, perchance, of my brother — amis- 
 taken fear, for Halbert would not, to en- 
 sure himself a kingdom, wrong an orphan ; 
 besides, that your title, in quiet times, even 
 had your father done your mother that jus- 
 tice, which I well hope he did, could not 
 have competed with that of my brother's 
 wife, the child of Julian's elder brother." 
 
 " They need fear no competition from 
 me," said Avenel. " Scotland is wide enough, 
 and there are many manors to win, without 
 plundering my benefactor. But prove to 
 me, my reverend father, that my father was 
 just to my mother — shew me that I may 
 call myself a legitimate Avenel, and make 
 me your bounden slave for ever." 
 
 '* Ay," replied the Abbot, '* I hear the 
 Seytons hold thee cheap for that stain on 
 thy shield. Something, however, I have 
 learnt from the late Abbot Boniface, which, 
 if it prove sooth, may redeem that re- 
 proach." 
 "Tell me that blessed news," said Roland, 
 
 " and the future service of my life" 
 
 5
 
 THE ABBOT. 311 
 
 " Rash boy !" said the Abbot, " I should 
 but madden thine impatient temper, by ex- 
 citing hopes that may never be fulfilled — 
 and is this a time for them ? Think on what 
 perilous march we are bound, and if thou 
 hast a sin unconfessed, neglect not the only 
 leisure which heaven may perchance afford 
 thee for confession and absolution." 
 
 " There will be time enough for both, I 
 trust, when we reach Dumbarton," answer- 
 ed the page. 
 
 " Ay," said the Abbot, ** thou crowest 
 as loudly as the rest — but we are not yet at 
 Dumbarton, and there is a lion in the path." 
 
 " Mean you Murray, Morton, and the 
 other rebels at Glasgow, my reverend fa- 
 ther ? Tush ! they dare not look on the royal 
 banner." 
 
 " Even so," replied the Abbot, «* speak 
 
 many of those who are wiser than thou. I 
 
 have returned from the Southern shires, 
 where I left many a chief of name arming 
 in the Queen's interest— I left the lords
 
 312 THE ABBOT. 
 
 here wise and considerate men — I find them 
 madmen on my return — they are willing, for 
 mere pride and vain glory, to brave the 
 enemy, and to carry the Queen, as it were 
 in triumph, past the walls of Glasgow, and 
 under the beards of the adverse army. — 
 Seldom does heaven smile on such mis- 
 timed confidence. We shall be encounter- 
 ed, and that to the purpose." 
 
 " And so much the better," replied Ro- 
 land, '' the field of battle was my cradle." 
 
 ** Beware it be not thy dying-bed," said 
 the Abbot; " but what avails it whispering 
 to young wolves the dangers of the chace ? 
 You will know, perchance, ere this day is 
 out, what yonder men are, whom you hold 
 in rash contempt." 
 
 " Why, what are they ?" said Henry Sey- 
 ton, who now joined them ; " have they si- 
 news of wire, and flesh of iron ? — Will lead 
 pierce and steel cut them ? — If so, reve- 
 rent father, we have little to fear." 
 
 " They are evil men," said the Abbot,
 
 THE ABBOT. 313 
 
 but the trade of" war demands no saints, — 
 Murray and Morton are known to be the 
 best generals in Scotland. No one ever saw 
 Lindesay or Ruthven's back — Kirkaldy of 
 Grange was named by the Constable Mont- 
 morency the first soldier in Europe — My 
 brother, too good a name for such a cause, 
 has been far and wide known for a soldier." 
 " The better, the better," said Seyton 
 triumphantly, " we shall have all these trai- 
 tors of rank and name in a fair field before 
 us. Our cause is the best, our numbers are 
 the strongest, our hearts and limbs match 
 theirs — Saint Bennet, and set on !" 
 
 The Abbot made no reply, but seemed 
 lost in reflection ; and his anxiety in some 
 measure communicated itself to Roland 
 Avenel, who ever as their line of march led 
 over a ridge or an eminence, cast an anxi- 
 ous look towards the towers of Glasgow, as 
 if he expected to see symptoms of the ene- 
 my issuing forth. It was not that he fear- 
 ed the fight, but the issue was of such deep 
 
 VOL. III. o
 
 314 THE ABBOT. 
 
 import to his country, and to himself, that 
 the natural fire of his spirit burned with a 
 less lively, though with a more intense glow. 
 Love, honour, fame, fortune, all seemed to 
 depend on the issue of one field, rashly ha- 
 zarded perhaps, but now likely to become 
 unavoidable. 
 
 When, at length, their march came to be 
 nearly parallel with the city of Glasgow, 
 Roland became sensible, that the high 
 grounds before them were already in part 
 occupied by a force, shewing, like their own, 
 the royal banner of Scotland, and on the 
 point of being supported by columns of in- 
 fantry and squadrons of horse, which the 
 city gates had poured forth, and which has- 
 tily advanced to sustain those troops who 
 already possessed the ground in front of the 
 Queen's army. Horseman after horseman 
 galloped in from the advanced guard, with 
 tidings that Murray had taken the field 
 with his whole army ; that his object was to 
 intercept the Queen's march, and his pur- 
 pose unquestionable to hazard a battle. It
 
 THE ABBOT. 315 
 
 was now that the tempers of men were sub- 
 jected to a sudden and a severe trial ; and 
 that those who had too presumptuously con- 
 cluded that they would pass without com- 
 bat, were something disconcerted, when, at 
 once, and with little time to deliberate, 
 they found themselves placed in front of a 
 resolute enemy. — Their chiefs immediately 
 assembled around the Queen, and held a 
 hasty council of war. Mary's quivering lip 
 confessed the fear wiiich she endeavoured 
 to conceal, under a bold and dignified de- 
 meanour. But her efforts were overcome 
 by painful recollections of the disastrous 
 issue of her last appearance in arms at Car- 
 berry-hill ; and when she meant to have 
 asked them their advice for ordering the 
 battle, she involuntarily enquired whether 
 there were no means of escaping without 
 an engagement. 
 
 ** Escaping?" answered the Lord Seytonj 
 «* When I stand as one to ten of your High- 
 nesses enemies, I may think of escape — but 
 never while I stand with three to two !"
 
 S16 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " Battle ! battle !" exclaimed the assem- 
 bled lords ; ♦' we will drive the rebels from 
 their vantage ground, as the hound turns 
 the hare on the hill side." 
 
 " Methinks, my noble lords," said the 
 Abbot, " it w^ere as well to prevent his 
 gaining that advantage. — Our road lies 
 through yonder hamlet on the brow, and 
 whichever paity hath the luck to possess 
 it, with its little gardens and enclosures, 
 will attain a post of great defence." 
 
 " The reverend father is right," said the 
 Queen. •' O, haste thee, Seyton, haste, and 
 get thither before them — they are marching 
 like the wind." 
 
 Seyton bowed low, and turned his horse's 
 head. — " Your Highness honours me," he 
 said ; *' I will instantly press forward, and 
 seize the pass." 
 
 '' Not before me, my lord, whose charge 
 is the command of the van- guard ?" said 
 the Lord of Arbroath. 
 
 " Before you, or any Hamilton in Scot-
 
 THE ABBOT. 317 
 
 land," said the Seyton, " having the Qu'jen's 
 command — Follow me, gentlemen, my vas- 
 sals, and kinsmen — Saint Bennet, and set 
 on!" 
 
 " And follow me," said Arbroath, " my 
 noble kinsmen, and brave men-tenant5, we 
 will see which will first reach the post of 
 danger. For God and Queen Mary i" 
 
 " Ill-omened haste, and most unhappy 
 strife," said the Abbot, who saw them and 
 their followers rush hastily and emulously 
 to ascend the height, without waiting till 
 their men were placed in order. — " And 
 you, gentlemen," he continued, address- 
 ing Roland and Seyton, who were each 
 about to follow those who hastened thus dis- 
 orderly to the conflict, " will you leave the 
 Queen's person unguarded ?" 
 
 " O, leave me not, gentlemen !" said the 
 Queen — " Roland and Seyton, do not leave 
 me — there are enough of arms to strike in 
 this fell combat — withdraw not those to 
 whom I trust for my safety."
 
 318 THE ABBOT. 
 
 " We may not leave her Grace," said Ro- 
 land, looking at Seyton, and turning his 
 horse. 
 
 " I ever looked when thou wouldst find 
 out that," rejoined the fiery youth, 
 
 Roland made no answer, but bit his lip 
 till the blood came, and spurring his horse 
 up to the side of Catherine Sey ton's palfrey, 
 he whispered in a low voice, *' I never 
 thought to have done aught to deserve you j 
 but this day I have heard myself upbraid- 
 ed with cowardice, and my sword remained 
 still sheathed, and all for the love of you." 
 
 ♦' There is madness among us all," said 
 the damsel ; *' my father, my brother, and 
 YOU, are all alike bereft of reason. Ye should 
 think only of this poor Queen, and you are 
 all inspired by your own absurd jealousies 
 — The Monk is the only soldier and man 
 of sense amongst you all. — My Lord Ab- 
 bot," she cried aloud, *' were it not better 
 we should draw to the westward, and wait 
 the event that God shall send us, instead 
 of remaining here in the highway, endan-
 
 THE ABBOT. 319 
 
 gering the Queen's person, and cumbering 
 the troops in their advance ?" 
 
 *' You say well, my daughter," replied the 
 Abbot, " had we but one to guide us where 
 the Queen's person may be in safety — Our 
 nobles hurry to the conflict, without cast- 
 ing a thought on the very cause of the 
 war." 
 
 *' Follow me," said a knight, or man-at- 
 arms, well mounted, and attired complete- 
 ly in black armour, but having the visor of 
 his helmet closed, and bearing no crest on 
 his helmet, or device upon his shield. 
 
 " We will follow no stranger," said the 
 Abbot, " without some warrant of his 
 truth." 
 
 " I am a stranger and in your hands," 
 said the horseman ; " if you wish to know 
 more of me, the Queen herself will be your 
 warrant." 
 
 The Queen had remained fixed to the 
 spot, as if disabled by fear, yet mechani- 
 cally smiling, bowing, and waving her hand.
 
 320 THE ABBOT. 
 
 as banners were lowered and spears depress- 
 ed before her, while, emulating the strife 
 betwixt Seyton and Arbroath, band on band 
 pressed forward their march towards the 
 enemy. Scarce, however, had the black 
 rider whispered something in her ear, than 
 she assented to what he said j and when 
 he spoke aloud, and with an air of com- 
 mand, *« Gentlemen, it is the Queen's plea- 
 sure that you should follow me," Mary ut- 
 tered, with something like eagerness, the 
 word " Yes." 
 
 All were in motion in an instant, for the 
 black horseman, throwing oif a sort of apa- 
 thy of manner, which his first appearance in- 
 dicated, spurred his horse to and fro, making 
 him take such active bounds and short turns 
 as shewed the rider master of the animal ; 
 and getting theQueen's little retinuein some 
 order for marching, he led them to the left, 
 directing his course towards a castle, which, 
 crowning a gentle yet commanding emi- 
 nence, presented an extensive view over 
 
 4
 
 THE ABBOT. 321 
 
 the country beneath, and, in particular, 
 commanded a view of those heights which 
 both armies hastened to occupy, and which 
 it was now apparent must almost instantly 
 be the scene of struggle and dispute. 
 
 *' Yonder towers," said the Abbot, ques- 
 tioning the sable horseman, " to whom do 
 they belong ? — and are they now in the 
 hands of friends ?" 
 
 " They are untenanted," replied the 
 stranger, " or, at least, they have no hostile 
 inmates. — But urge these youths. Sir Ab- 
 bot, to make more haste — this is but an 
 evil time to satisfy their idle curiosity, by 
 peering out upon the battle in which they 
 are to take no share." 
 
 *' The worse luck mine," said Henry 
 Seyton, who overheard him j ** I would ra 
 ther be under my father's banner at this 
 moment than be made Chamberlain of Ho- 
 lyrood, for this my present duty of peace- 
 ful ward well and patiently discharged." 
 
 ^' Your place under your father's banner 
 o 2
 
 322 THE ABBOT. 
 
 will shortly be right dangerous," said Ro- 
 land Avenel, who, pressing his horse to- 
 wards the westward, had still his look re- 
 verted to the armies ; *• for I see yonder 
 body of cavalry, which presses from the 
 eastward, will reach the village ere Lord 
 Seyton can gain it." 
 
 " They are but cavalry," said Seyton, 
 looking attentively ; " they cannot hold the 
 village without shot of harquebuss." 
 
 *' Look more closely," said Roland ; <* you 
 will see that each of these horsemen who 
 advance so rapidly from Glasgow, carries a 
 a footman behind him." 
 
 " Now, by Heaven, he speaks well !" said 
 the black cavalier j " one of you two must 
 go carry the news to Lord Seyton and Lord 
 Arbroath, that they hasten not their horse- 
 men on before the foot, but advance more 
 regularly." 
 
 *' Be that my errand," said Roland, " for 
 I first marked the stratagem of the enemy." 
 
 ♦' But, by your leave," said Seyton,
 
 THE ABBOT. 323 
 
 " yonder is my father's banner engaged, 
 and it best becomes me to go to the rescue." 
 
 " I will stand by the Queen's decision," 
 said Roland Avenel. 
 
 " What new appeal ? — what new quarrel r" 
 said Queen Mary — " Are there not in yon- 
 der dark host enemies enough to Mary 
 Stuart, but must her very friends turn ene- 
 mies to each other ?" 
 
 " Nay, madam," said Roland, " the young 
 Master of Seyton and I did but dispute 
 who should leave your person to do a most 
 needful message to the host. He thought 
 his rank entitled him, and I deemed that 
 the person of least consequence, being my- 
 self, were better perilled" 
 
 " Not so," said the Queen j '' if one 
 must leave me, be it Seyton." 
 
 ^enry Seyton bowed till the white plumes 
 on his helmet mixed with the flowing mane 
 of his gallant war-horse, then placed him- 
 self firm in the saddle, shook his lance aloft 
 with an air of triumph and determinatioii, 
 and striking his horse with the spurs, made
 
 324 THE ABBOT. 
 
 towards his father's banner, which was still 
 advancing up the hill, and dashed his steed 
 over every obstacle that occurred in his 
 headlong path. 
 
 *' My brother ! ray father !" exclaimed 
 Catherine, with an expression of agonized 
 apprehension — " they are in the midst of 
 peril, and I in safety !" 
 
 *' Would to God," said Roland, ** that I 
 were with them, and could ransom every 
 drop of their blood by two of mine !" 
 
 " Do I not know thou dost wish it r' 
 said Catherine — " Can a woman say to a 
 man what I have well nigh said to thee, 
 and yet think that he could harbour fear 
 or faintness of heart? — There is that in 
 yon distant sound of approaching battle 
 that pleases me even while it affrights me. 
 I would I were a man, that I might feel 
 that stern delight, without the mixture of 
 terror !" 
 
 *' Ride up, ride up, Lady Catherine Sey- 
 ton," cried the Abbot, as they still swept 
 on at a rapid pace, and were now close be-
 
 THE ABBOT. 325 
 
 neath the walls of the castle — ** ride up, 
 and aid Lady Fleming to support the Queen 
 — she gives way more and more." 
 
 They halted and lifted Mary from the 
 saddle, and were about to support her to- 
 wards the castle, when she said faintly, 
 " Not there — not there — these walls will I 
 never enter more !" 
 
 " Be a Queen, madam," said the Abbot, 
 *' and forget that you are a woman." 
 
 " O, I must forget much much more," an- 
 swered the unfortunate Mary, in an under 
 tone, '• ere I can look with steady eyes on 
 these well-known scenes ! — I must forget the 
 days which I spent here as the bride of the 
 lost — the murthered " 
 
 '• Thisis the Castle of Crookstone," said 
 the Lady Fleming, ** in which the Queen 
 held her first court after she was married 
 to Darnley." 
 
 " Heaven," said the Abbot, *• thy hand 
 is upon us ! — Bear yet up, madam — your 
 foes are the foes of Holy Church, and God
 
 326 THE ABBOT. 
 
 will this day decide whether Scotland shall 
 be Catholic or heretic." 
 
 A heavy and continued fire of cannon 
 and musketry, bore a tremendous burthen 
 to his words, and seemed far more than 
 they to recal the spirits of the Queen. 
 
 *• To yonder tree," she said, pointing to 
 a yew tree, which grew on a small mount 
 close to the castle ; " I know it well — 
 from thence you may see a prospect wide 
 as from the peaks of Schehallion." 
 
 And freeing herself from her assistants, 
 she walked with a determined, yet some- 
 what wild step, up to the stem of the noble 
 yew. The Abbot, Catherine, and Roland 
 Avenel followed her, while Lady Fleming 
 kept back the inferior persons of her train. 
 The black horseman also followed the 
 Queen, waiting on her as closely as the 
 shadow upon the light, but ever remaining 
 at the distance of two or three yards — he 
 folded his arms on his bosom, turned his 
 back to the battle, and seemed solely occu-
 
 THE ABBOT. 327 
 
 pied by gazing on Mary, through the bars 
 of his closed vizor. The Queen regarded 
 him not, but fixed her eyes upon the spread- 
 ing yew. 
 
 ** Ay, fair and stately tree," she said, as 
 if at the sight of it she had been rapt away 
 from the present scene, and had overcome 
 the horror which had oppressed her at the 
 first approach to Crookstone, *' there thou 
 standest, gay and goodly as ever, though 
 thou hearest the sounds of war, instead of 
 the vows of love. Ail is gone since I last 
 greeted thee — love and lover — vows and 
 vower — king and kingdom. — How goes the 
 field, my Lord Abbot ? — with us I trust — 
 yet what but evil can Mary's eyes witness 
 from this spot !" 
 
 Her attendants eagerly bent their eyes 
 on the field of battle, but could discover 
 nothing more than that it was obstinately 
 debated. The small inclosures and cottage 
 gardens in the village, of which they had a 
 full and commanding view, and which late- 
 ly lay, with their lines of sycamore and ash-
 
 328 THE ABBOT. 
 
 trees, so still and quiet in the mild light ot" 
 a May sun, were now each converted into 
 a line of fire, canopied by smoke j and the 
 sustained and constant report of the mus- 
 ketry and cannon, mingled with the shouts 
 of the meeting combatants, shewed that as 
 yet neither party had given ground. 
 
 " Many a soul finds its final departure to 
 heaven or hell, in these awful thunders," 
 said the Abbot ; " let those that believe in 
 the Holy Church, join me in orisons for 
 victory in this dreadful combat." 
 
 *• Not here — not here," said the unfortu- 
 nate Queen ; ** pray not here, father, or 
 pray in silence — my mind is too much torn 
 between the past and the present, to dare 
 to approach the heavenly throne — Or, if ye 
 will pray, be it for one whose fondest affec- 
 tions have been her greatest crimes, and 
 who has ceased to be a queen, only because 
 she was a deceived and a tender-hearted 
 woman." 
 
 " Were it not well," said Roland, '« that
 
 THE ABBOT. 329 
 
 I rode somewhat nearer the hosts, and saw 
 the fate of the day ?" 
 
 " Do so, in the name of God," said the 
 Abbot ; *♦ for if our friends are scattered, 
 our flight must be hasty — but beware thou 
 approach not too nigh the conflict, there is 
 more than thine own life depends on thy 
 safe return." 
 
 ** O, go not too nigh," said Catherine ; 
 «' but fail not to see how the Seytons fight, 
 and how they bear themselves." 
 
 ** Fear nothing, I will be on my guard," 
 said Ronald Avenel j and without waiting 
 further answer, rode towards the scene of 
 conflict, keeping, as he rode, the higher 
 and uninclosed ground, and ever looking 
 cautiously around him, for fear of involving 
 himself in some hostile party. As he ap- 
 proached, the shots rung sharp and more 
 sharply on his ear, the shouts came wilder 
 and wilder, and he felt that thick beating 
 of the heart, that mixture of natural appre- 
 hension, intense curiosity, and anxiety for 
 the dubious event, which even the bravest
 
 330 THE ABBOT. 
 
 experience when they approach alone to a 
 scene of interest and of danger. 
 
 At length he drew so close, that from a 
 bank, screened by bushes and underwood, he 
 could distinctly see where the struggle was 
 most keenly maintained. This was in a hol- 
 low way, leading to the village, up which the 
 Queen's vanguard had marched with more 
 hasty courage than well advised conduct, 
 for the purpose of possessing themselves of 
 that post of vantage. But they found the 
 hedges and inclosures already occupied by 
 the enemy, led by the celebrated Kirkcaldy 
 of Grange, and the Earl of Morton ; and 
 not small was the loss which they sustained 
 while struggling forward to come to close 
 with the men-at-arms on the other side. 
 But, as the Queen's followers were chiefly 
 noblemen and barons, with their kinsmen 
 and followers, they had pressed onwards, 
 contemning obstacles and danger, and had, 
 when Roland arrived on the ground, met 
 hand to hand at the gorge of the pass with 
 the Regent's vanguard, and endeavoured tc
 
 THE ABBOT. 331 
 
 bear them out of the village at the spear- 
 point ; while their foes, equally determined 
 to keep the advantage which they had at- 
 tained, struggled with the like obstinacy to 
 drive back the assailants. 
 
 Both parties were on foot, and armed in 
 proof; so that, when the long lances of the 
 front ranks were fixed in each other's shields, 
 corslets, and breast- plates, the struggle re- 
 sembled that of two bulls, who, fixing their 
 frontlets hard against each other, remain in 
 that posture for hours, until the superior 
 strength or obstinacy of the one compels 
 the other to take to flight, or bears him 
 down to the earth. Thus locked together 
 in the deadly struggle, which swayed slow- 
 ly to and fro, as one or other party gained 
 the advantage, those who fell were trampled 
 on alike by friends and foes ; those whose 
 weapons were broken retired from the front 
 rank, and had their place supplied by others ; 
 while the rearward ranks, unable otherwise 
 to take share in the combat, fired their pis-
 
 332 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tols, and hurled their daggers, and the 
 points and truncheons of the broken wea- 
 pons, like javelins against the enemy. 
 
 '• God and the Queen !" resounded from 
 the one party j ♦* God and the King !" thun- 
 dered from the other, while, in the name of 
 their sovereign, fellow-subjects shed each 
 other's blood, and, in the name of their 
 Creator, defaced his image. Amid the tu- 
 mult was often heard the voices of the cap- 
 tains, shouting their commands 5 of leaders 
 and chiefs, crying their gathering words ; 
 of groans and shrieks from the falling and 
 the dying. 
 
 The strife had lasted nearly an hour. The 
 strength of both parties seemed exhausted, 
 but their rage was unabated, and their ob- 
 stinacy unsubdued, when Roland, who 
 turned eye and ear to all around him, saw 
 a column of infantry, headed by a few horse- 
 men, wheel round the base of the bank 
 where he had stationed himself, and, level- 
 ling their long lances, attack the flank of
 
 THE ABBOT. 333 
 
 the Queen's vanguard, closely engaged as 
 they were with the conflict on their front. 
 The very first glance shewed him that the 
 leader who directed this movement was 
 the Knight of" Avenel, his ancient master, 
 and the next convinced him that its effect 
 would be decisive. The result of the attack 
 of fresh and unbroken forces upon the 
 flank of those already wearied with a long 
 and obstinate struggle, was, indeed, instan- 
 taneous. 
 
 The column of the assailants, which had 
 iiitherto shewn one dark, dense, and united 
 line of helmets, surmounted with plumage, 
 was at once broken and hurled in confusion 
 down the hill, which they had so long en- 
 deavoured to gain. In vain were the leaders 
 heard calling upon their followers to stand 
 to the combat, and seen personally resist- 
 ing when all resistance was evidently vain. 
 They were slain, or felled to the earth, or 
 hurried backwards by the mingled tide of 
 flight and pursuit. What were Roland's 
 feelings on beholding the rout, and feehng
 
 334 THE ABBOT. 
 
 that all that remained for him was to turn 
 bridle, and endeavour to ensure the safety 
 of the Queen's person ! Yet, keen as his 
 grief and shame might be, they were both 
 forgotten, when, almost close beneath the 
 bank which he occupied, he saw Henry 
 Seyton forced away from his own party in 
 the tumult, covered with dust and blood, 
 and defending himself desperately against 
 several of the enemy who had gathered 
 around him, attracted by liis gay armour. 
 Roland paused not a moment, but pushing 
 his steeddownthebankjleaped him amongst 
 the hostile party, dealt three or four blows 
 amongst them, which struck down two, and 
 made the rest stand aloof, then reaching 
 Seyton his hand, he exhorted him to seize 
 fast on his horse's mane. 
 
 '« We live or die together this day,"' said 
 he ; *' keep but fast hold till we are out of 
 the press, and then my horse is yours."" 
 
 Seyton heard and exerted his remaining 
 strength, and, by their joint efibrts, Roland 
 brought him out of danger, and behind the 
 9
 
 THE ABBOT. $35 
 
 spot from whence he had witnessed the dis- 
 astrous conclusion of the fight. But no 
 sooner were they under shelter of the trees, 
 than Seyton let go his hold, and in spite of 
 Roland's efforts to support him, fell at length 
 on the turf. " Trouble yourself no more 
 with me," he said ; " this is my first and my 
 last battle — and 1 have already seen too 
 much of it to wish to see the close. Hasten 
 to save the Queen — and commend me to 
 Catherine — she will never more be mistaken 
 for me nor I for her — the last sword-stroke 
 has made an eternal distinction." 
 
 " Let me aid you to mount my horse," 
 said Roland, eagerly, *' and you may yet 
 be saved — I can find my own way on foot — 
 turn but my horse's head westward, and he 
 wii! carry you fleet and easy as the wind." 
 
 " I will never mount steed more," said 
 the youth ; " farewell — I love thee better 
 dying, than ever 1 thought to have done 
 while in life — I would that old man's blood 
 were not on my hand — Sande Benedicite,
 
 336 THE ABBOT. 
 
 ora pro me — Stand not to look on a dying 
 man, but haste to save the Queen." 
 
 These words were spoken with the last 
 effort of his voice, and scarce were they 
 uttered ere the speaker was no more. They 
 recalled Roland to the sense of the duty 
 which he had well-nigh forgotten, but they 
 did not reach his ears only. 
 
 " The Queen — where is the Queen ?" 
 said Haibert Glendinning, who, followed 
 by two or three horsemen, appeared at this 
 instant. Roland made no answer, but turn, 
 ing his horse, and confiding in his speed, 
 gave him at once rein and spur, and rode 
 over height and hollow towards the Castle 
 of Crookstone. More heavily armed, and 
 mounted upon a horse of less speed, Sir 
 Haibert Glendinning followed with couch- 
 ed lance, calling out as he rode, " Sir, with 
 the holly-branch, halt, and shew your right 
 to bear that badge — fly not thus cowardly, 
 nor dishonour the cognizance thou deservest 
 not to wear ! — Halt, sir coward, or by Hca-
 
 THE ABBOT. 337 
 
 ven, I will strike thee with my lance on the 
 back, and slay thee like a dastard — I am 
 the Knight of Avenel — I am Halbert Glen- 
 dinning." 
 
 But Roland, who had no purpose of en- 
 countering his old master, and who besides 
 knew the Queen's safety depended on his 
 making the best speed he could, answered 
 not a word to the defiances and reproaches 
 which Sir Halbert continued to throw out 
 against him ; but making the best use of his 
 spurs, rode yet harder than before, and had 
 gained about a hundred yards upon his 
 pursuer, when coming near to the yew- tree 
 v.'here he had left the Qiieen, he saw them 
 already getting to horse, and cried out as 
 loud as he could, " Foes ! foes ! — Ride for 
 it, fair ladies — Brave gentlemen, do your 
 devoir to protect them." 
 
 So sayinL^ he wheeled his horse, and 
 avoiding the shock of Sir Halbert Giendin- 
 iiiiig, charged one of his followers, who was 
 nearly on a line with him, so rudely with 
 
 VOL. iir. p
 
 338 THE ABBOT. 
 
 his lance, that he overthrew horse and man. 
 He then drew his sword and attacked the 
 second, while the black man-at-arms, throw- 
 ing himself in the way of Glendinning, they 
 rushed on each other so fiercely, that both 
 horses were overthrown, and the riders lay 
 rolling on the plain. Neither was able to 
 arise, for the black horseman was pierced 
 through with Glendinning's lance, and the 
 Knight of Avenel, oppressed with the 
 weight of his own horse and sorely bruised 
 besides, seemed in little better plight than 
 he whom he had mortally wounded. 
 
 *• Yield thee, Sir Knight of Avenel, re- 
 scue or no rescue," said Roland, who had 
 put a second antagonist out of condition to 
 combat, and hastened to prevent Glendin- 
 ning from renewing the conflict. 
 
 *« 1 may not chuse but yield," said Sir 
 
 Halbert, ** since 1 can no longer fight, but 
 
 it shames me to speak such a word to a 
 
 coward like thee." 
 
 «* Call me not coward," said Roland, 
 
 lifting his visor, and helping his prisoner to
 
 THE ABBOT. 339 
 
 rise, " since but for old kindness at thy 
 hand, and yet more at thy lady's, I had 
 met thee as a brave man should." 
 
 *' The favourite page of my wife !" said 
 Sir Ilalbert, astonished ; " Ah ! wretched 
 boy, I have heard of thy treason at Loch- 
 leven." 
 
 «' Reproach him not, my brother," said 
 the Abbot, ♦* he was but an agent in the 
 hands of Heaven." 
 
 *' To horse, to horse !" said Catherine 
 Seyton ; " mount and be gone, or we are all 
 lost. I see our gallant army flying for many 
 a league — To horse, my Lord Abbot — To 
 horse, Roland — My gracious Liege, to 
 horse ; ere this, we should have ridden a 
 mile." 
 
 *' Look on these features," said Mary, 
 pointing to the dying knight, who had been 
 unhelmed by some compassionate hand ; 
 ** look there, and tell me if she who ruins 
 all who love her, ought to fly a foot farther 
 to save her wretched life." 
 
 The reader must have long anticipated
 
 340 THE ABBOT. 
 
 the discovery, which the Queen's feelings 
 had made before her eyes confirmed it. It 
 was the features of the unha{)py Georijre 
 Douglas, on which death was stamping his 
 mark. 
 
 " Look. — look £l him v.-ell," said the 
 Queen, '' thus has it been with all v/lio lo- 
 ved Mary Stuart! — The royalty of Francis, 
 the wit of Chatelet, the power and gallant- 
 ry of the gay Gordon, the melody of Rizzio, 
 the portly form and youthful grace of Darn- 
 ley, the bold address and courtly manners 
 of Bothwell — and now the deep-devoted 
 passion of the noble Douglas — nought could 
 save them — they looked on the v/retched 
 Mary, and to have loved her was crime 
 enough to deserve early death ! No sooner 
 had the victim formed a kind thought of me, 
 than the poisoned cup, the axe and block, 
 the dagger, the mine, were ready to punish 
 them i'ov casting away affection on such a 
 wretch as 1 am. — Importune me not — I will 
 fly :]o fartliCr — I can die but once, and I 
 will die here."
 
 THE ABBOT. 341 
 
 While she spoke, her tears fell fast on 
 the face of the dying mun, who continued 
 to fix his eyes on her with an eagerness of 
 passion, which death itself could hardly 
 subdue. — " Mourn not for me," he said 
 faintly, " but care for your own safety — I 
 die a Douglas, and I die pitied by Mury 
 Stuart!" 
 
 He expired with these words, and with- 
 out withdrawing his eyes from her face; and 
 the Queen, whose heart was of that soft 
 and gentle mould, which, in domestic life, 
 and with a more suitable partner than Darn- 
 ley, might have made her happy, remained 
 weeping by the dead man, until recalled to 
 herself by the Abbot, who found it neces- 
 sary to use a style of unusual remonstrance, 
 *• We also, madam," he said, " we, your 
 Grace's devoted followers, have friends and 
 relatives to weep for. I leave a brother in 
 eminent jeopardy — the husband ofthe Lady 
 Fleming — the father and brothers of the 
 Lady Catherine, are all in yonder bloody 
 field, slain, it is to be feared, or prisoners.
 
 342 THE ABBOT. 
 
 We forget the fate of our own nearest and 
 dearest, to wait on our Queen, and she is 
 too much occupied with her own sorrows 
 to give one thought to ours." 
 
 " I deserve not your reproach, father," 
 said the Queen, checking her tears ; " but 
 I am docile to it — where must we go ? — 
 what must we do ?" 
 
 '* We must fly, and that instantly," said 
 the Abbot ; " whither is not so easily an- 
 swered, but we may dispute it upon the 
 road- — Lift her to her saddle, and set for- 
 ward." 
 
 They set oft' accordingly — Roland lin- 
 gered a moment, to command the attend- 
 ants of the Knigiit of Avenel to tb.e C;istie 
 of Crookstone, and to say that he demanded 
 from him no other condition of liberty, than 
 his word, that he and his followers would 
 keep secret the direction in which the 
 Queen fled. As he turned his rein to depart, 
 the honest countenance of Adam Wood- 
 cock stared upon him with an expression 
 of surprise, which, at another time, would
 
 THE ABBOT. 343 
 
 bave excited his hearty mirth. He had 
 been one of the followers who had experi- 
 enced the weight of Roland's arm, and they 
 now knew each other, Roland having put 
 up his vizor, and the good yeoman having 
 thrown away his barret cap, with the iron 
 bars in front, that he might the more readily 
 assist his master. Into this barret- cap, as 
 it lay on the ground, Roland forgot not 
 to drop a few gold pieces, (fruits of the 
 Queen's liberality,) and with a signal of 
 kind recollection and enduring friendship, 
 he departed at full gallop to overtake the 
 Queen, the dust raised by her train being 
 already far down the hill. 
 
 *' It is not fairy-money," said honest 
 Adam, weighing and handling the gold — 
 '* And it is Master Roland himself, that is 
 a certain thing — the same open hand, and, 
 by Our Lady ! — (shrugging his shoulders) 
 — the same ready fist ! — My lady will hear 
 of this gladly, for she mourns for him as if 
 he were her son. And to see how gay he 
 is ! But these light lads are as sure to be
 
 344 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Uppermost as the froth to be on the top of 
 the quart-pot — Your man of sohd parts re- 
 mains ever a falconer," So saying, he went 
 to aid his comrades, who had now come up 
 in greater numbers, to carry his master in- 
 to the Castle of Crookstone.
 
 THE ABBOT. g45 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 My native land, good night ! 
 
 Byrok. 
 
 Many a bitter tear was shed during the 
 hasty flight of Queen Mary, over fallen 
 hopes, future prospects, and slaughtered 
 friends. The deaths of the brave Douglas, 
 and of the fiery but gallant young Seyton, 
 seemed to affect the Queen as much as the 
 fall from the throne, on which she had so 
 nearly been again seated. Catherine Sey- 
 ton devoured in secret her own grief, an- 
 xious to support the broken spirits of her 
 mistress ; and the Abbot, bending his anxious 
 thoughts upon futurity, endeavoured in 
 vain to form some plan which had a shadow 
 of hope. The spirit of young Roland, for 
 2p
 
 346 THE ABBOT. 
 
 he also mingled in the hasty debates held 
 by the companions of the Queen's flight, 
 continued unchecked and unbroken. 
 
 " Your Majesty," he said, " has lost a bat- 
 tle — Your ancestor, Bruce, lost seven suc- 
 cessively, ere he sat triumphant on the 
 Scottish throne, and proclaimed with the 
 voice of a victor, in the field of Bannock- 
 burn, the independence of his country. Are 
 not these heaths, which we may traverse at 
 ■will, better than the locked, guarded, and 
 lake- moated Castle of Lochleven ? — We are 
 free — in that one word there is comfort for 
 all our losses." 
 
 He struck a bold note, but the heart of 
 Mary made no response. 
 
 ** Better," she said, '• I had still been in 
 Lochleven, than seen the slaughter made 
 by my rebels among the subjects who offer- 
 ed themselves to death for my sake. Speak 
 not to me of further efforts — they would 
 only cost the lives of you the friends who 
 recommend them — 1 would not again un-
 
 T»E ABBOT. 34T 
 
 dergo what I felt, when I saw from yonder 
 mount the swords of the fell horsemen of 
 Morton raging among the faithful Seytons 
 and Hamiltons, for their loyalty to their 
 Queen — I would not again feel what I felt 
 when Douglas's life-blood stained my man- 
 tle for his love to Mary Stuart — not to be 
 empress of all that Britain's seas enclose. 
 Find for me some place where I can hide 
 my unhappy head, which brings destruction^ 
 on all who love it — it is the last favour that 
 Mary asks of her faithful followers," 
 
 In this dejected mood, but still pursuing, 
 her flight with unabated rapidity, the un- 
 fortunate Mary, after having been joined 
 by Lord Herries and a few followers, at 
 length halted, for the first time, at the Ab- 
 bey of Dundrennan, nearly sixty miles dis- 
 tant from the field of battle. In this re- 
 mote corner of Galloway, the Reformation 
 not having yet been strictly enforced againsr. 
 the monks, a few still lingered in their cells 
 unmolested ; and the Prior, with tears and
 
 318 THE ABBOT. 
 
 reverence, received the fugitive Queen at 
 the gate of his convent. 
 
 " I bring you ruin, my good Father," said 
 the Queen, as she was lifted from her pal- 
 frey. 
 
 " It is welcome," said the Prior, *» if it 
 comes in the train of duty." 
 
 Placed on the ground and supported by 
 her ladies, the Queen looked for an instant 
 at her palfrey, which, jaded and drooping 
 its head, seemed as if it mourned the dis- 
 tresses of its mistress. 
 
 *♦ Good Roland," said the Queen, whis- 
 pering, "let Rosabelle be cared for — ask thy 
 heart, and it will tell thee why I make this 
 little request even in this awful hour." 
 
 She was conducted to her apartment, and 
 in the hurried consultation of her attend- 
 ants, the fatal resolution of the retreat to 
 England was finally adopted. In the morn- 
 ing it received her approbation, and a mes- 
 senger was dispatched to the English ward- 
 en, to pray him for safe- conduct and hos^
 
 THE ABBOT. 349 
 
 pitality, on the part of the Queen of Scot- 
 land. On the next day, the Abbot walked 
 in the garden of the Abbey with Roland, 
 to whom he expressed his disapprobation 
 of the course pursued. " It is madness and 
 ruin," he said ; " better commit herself to 
 the savage Highlanders or wildBordermen, 
 than to the faith of EHzabeth. A woman to 
 a rival woman — a presumptive successor to 
 the keeping of a jealous Queen ! — Roland, 
 Herries is true and loyal, but his counsel 
 has ruined his mistress." 
 
 " Ay, ruin follows us every where," said 
 an old man, with a spade in his hand, and 
 dressed like a lay-brother, of whose pre- 
 sence, in the vehemence of his exclamation, 
 the Abbot had not been aware — ** Gaze 
 not on me with such wonder ! — I am he 
 who was the Abbot Boniface at Kenna- 
 quhair, who was the gardener Blinkhoolie at 
 Lochleven, hunted round to the place in 
 which I served my noviciate, and now ye 
 are come to rouse me up again ? — A weary 
 12
 
 350 THE ABBOT. 
 
 life I have had for one to whom peace was 
 ever the dearest blessing !" 
 
 " We will soon rid you of our company, 
 good Father," said the Abbot ; *' and the 
 Queen will, I fear me, trouble your retreat 
 no more." 
 
 *' Nay, you said as much before," said the 
 querulous old man, "and yet I was put forth 
 from Kinross, and pillaged by troopers on 
 the road. — They took from me the certifi« 
 cate that you wot of — that of the Baron — 
 ay, he was a moss-trooper like themselves — 
 You asked me of it, and I could never find 
 it, but they found it — it shewed the mar- 
 riage of — of^ — my memory fails me — now 
 see how men differ ! — Father Nicolas would 
 have told you an hundred tales of the Ab- 
 bot Ingelram, on whose soul God have mer- 
 cy 1 — He was, I warrant you, fourscore and 
 six, and I am not more than — let me see." 
 
 "Was not Avenel the name you seek, 
 my good Father?" said Roland impatiently, 
 yet moderating his tone for fear of alarm- 
 ing or offending the infirm old man.
 
 THE ABBOT. 351 
 
 " Ay, right — Avenel, Julian Avenel — 
 You are perfect in the name — I kept all the 
 special confessions, judging it held with my 
 vow to do so — I could not find it when my 
 successor, Ambrosius, spoke on't — but the 
 troopers found it, and the Knight struck 
 his breast, till the target clattered like an 
 empty watering can." 
 
 "Saint Mary!" said the Abbot, ''in whom 
 could such a paper excite such interest ? 
 What was the appearance of the Knight, his 
 arm?, his colours ?" 
 
 *' Ye distract me with your questions — I 
 dared hardly look at him — they charged me 
 with bearing letters for the Queen, and 
 searched my mail — This was all alongof your 
 doings at Lochleven." 
 
 " I trust in God," said the Abbot to Ro- 
 land, who stood beside him, shivering and 
 trembling with impatience, ** the paper has 
 fallen into the hands of my brother — I heard 
 he had been with his followers on the scout 
 betwixt Stirling and Glasgow. — Bore not 
 13
 
 352 THE ABBOT. 
 
 the Knight a holly- bough in his helmet ? — 
 Canst thou not remember ?" 
 
 " O, remember— remember," said the 
 old man pettishly ; " count as many years 
 as I do, if your plots will let you, and see 
 what, and how much you remember — 
 Why, I scarce remember the pear-mains 
 which I graffed here with my own hands 
 some fifty years since." 
 
 At this moment a bugle sounded loudly 
 from the beach. 
 
 *' It is the death-blast to Queen Mary's 
 royalty," said Ambrosius ; *• the English 
 warden's answer has been received, favour- 
 able doubtless, for when was the door of 
 the trap closed against the prey which it was 
 set for ? — Droop not, lioland — this matter 
 shall be sifted to the bottom — but we must 
 not now leave the Queen — follow me — let 
 us do our duty, and trust the issue with God 
 — Farewell, good Father — I will visit thee 
 again soon." 
 
 He was about to leave the garden, foL
 
 THE ABBOT. 355 
 
 lowed by Roland, with halflreluctant steps. 
 The Ex- Abbot resumed his spade. 
 
 " I could be sorry for these men," he 
 said, " ay, and for that poor Queen, but 
 what avail earthly sorrows to a man of four- 
 score ? — and it is a rare dropping morning 
 for the early colewort." 
 
 *' He is stricken with age," said Ambro- 
 sius, as he dragged Roland down to the sea- 
 beach ; " we must let him take his time to 
 collecthimself^ — nothing row can be thought 
 on but the fate of the Queen." 
 
 They soon arrived where she stood, sur- 
 rounded by her little train, and by her side 
 the Sheriff' of Cumberland, a gentleman of 
 the house of Lowther, richly dressed and 
 accompanied by soldiers. The aspect of 
 the Queen exhibited a sin2;ular mixture of 
 alacrity and reluctance to depart. Her lan- 
 guage and gestures spoke hope and conso- 
 lation to her attendants, and she seemed 
 desirous to persuade even herself that the 
 step she adopted was secure, and that the 
 assurance she had received of kind recep-
 
 S64 THE ABBOT. 
 
 tion was altogether satisfactory ; but her 
 quivering lip, and unsettled eye, betrayed 
 at once her anguish at departing from Scot- 
 land, and her fears of confiding herself to 
 the doubtful faith of England. 
 
 " Welcome, my Lord Abbot," said she ; 
 "and you, Roland Avenel, we have joyful 
 news for you — our loving sister's officer 
 proffers us, in her name, a safe asylum from 
 the rebels who have driven us from our 
 own — only it grieves me we must here part 
 from you for a short space." 
 
 " Part from us, madam !" said the Ab- 
 bot J " is your welcome in England, then, 
 to commence with the abridgment of your 
 train and dismissal of your counsellors?" 
 
 " Take it not thus, good Father," said 
 Mary ; " the Warden and the Sheriff, faith- 
 ful servants of our Royal Sister, deem it 
 necessary to obey her instructions in the 
 present case, even to the letter, and can 
 only admit me with my female attendants. 
 An express will instantly be dispatched 
 from London, assigning me a place of re-
 
 THE ABBOT. 355 
 
 sidence j and I will speedily send to all of 
 you whenever my Court shall be formed." 
 
 " Your Court formed in England 1 and 
 while Elizabeth lives and reigns ?" said the 
 Abbot — " that will be when we shall see 
 two suns in one heaven I" 
 
 " Do not think so," replied the Queen ; 
 ** we are well assured of our sister's good 
 faith. Elizabeth loves fame — and not all 
 that she has won by her power and her wis- 
 dom will equal that which she will acquire 
 by extending her hospitality to a distressed 
 sister ! — not all that she may hereafter do 
 of good, wise, and great, would blot out 
 the reproach of abusing our confidence.— 
 Farewell, my page — now my knight — fare- 
 well for a brief season. I will dry the tears 
 of Catherine, or I will weep with her till 
 neither of us can weep longer." She held 
 out her hand to Roland, who, flinging him- 
 self on his knees, kissed it with much emo- 
 tion. He was about to render the same 
 homage to Catherine, when the Queen, as-
 
 356 THE ABBOT. 
 
 suming an air of sprightliness, said, " Her 
 lips, tiiou foolish boy ! and, Catherine, coy 
 it not — these English gentlemen should see, 
 that, even in our cold clime, Beauty knows 
 how to reward Bravery and Fidelity !" 
 
 " We are not now to learn the force of 
 Scottish beauty, or the mettle of Scottish 
 valour," said the Sheriff of Cumberland 
 courteously — " I would it were in my power 
 to bid these attendants upon her who is 
 herself the mistress of Scottish beauty, as 
 welcome to England as my poor cares would 
 make them. But our Queen's orders are 
 positive in case of such an emergence, and 
 they must not be disputed by her subject. 
 — May I remind your Majesty that the tide 
 ebbs fast ?" 
 
 The Sheriff took the Queen's hand, and 
 she had already placed her foot on the gang- 
 way, by which she was to enter the skiff, 
 when the Abbot, starting from a trance of 
 grief and astonishment at the words of the 
 Sheriff) rushed into the water, and seized 
 upon her mantle.
 
 THE ABBOT. 357 
 
 " She foresaw it ! — she foresaw it !" he 
 exclaimed — " she foresaw your flight into 
 her realm; and, foreseeing it, gave orders 
 you should be thus received. Biinded, de- 
 ceived, doomed Princess ! your fate is seal- 
 ed when you quit this strand.— -Queen of 
 Scotland, thou shalt not leave thine heri- 
 tage !" he continued, holding a still firmer 
 grasp upon her mantle ; '• true men shall 
 turn rebels to thy will, that they may save 
 thee from captivity or death. Fear not the 
 bills and bows whom that gay man has at 
 his beck — we will withstand him by force. 
 O, for the arm of my warlike brother I — 
 Roland Avenel, draw thy sword." 
 
 The Queen stood irresolute and fright- 
 ened ; one foot upon the plank, the other 
 on the sand of her native shore, which she 
 was quitting for ever. 
 
 " What needs this violence. Sir Priest?" 
 said the Sherifi'of Cumberland ; •' I came 
 hither at your Queen's command, to do her 
 service ; and I will depart at her least or- 
 der, if she rejects such aid as I can oflfer. No
 
 358 THE ABBOr. 
 
 marvel is it if our Queen's wisdom foresaw 
 that such chance as this mi<^ht happen 
 amidst the turmoils of your unsettled State ; 
 and, while willing to afford fair hospitality 
 to her Royal Sister, deemed it wise to pro- 
 hibit the entrance of a broken army of her 
 followers into the English frontier." 
 
 " You hear," said Queen Mary, gently 
 unloosing her robe from the Abbot's grasp, 
 '* that we exercise full liberty of choice in 
 leaving this shore ; and, questionless, the 
 choice will remain free to us in going to 
 France, or returning to our own domi- 
 nions, as we shall determine — Besides, it is 
 too late — Your blessing. Father, and God 
 speed thee !" 
 
 " May He have mercy on thee, and speed 
 thee also !" said the Abbot, retreating. 
 *' But my soul tells me I look on thee for 
 the last time !" 
 
 The sails were hoisted, the oars were 
 plied, the vessel went freshly on her way 
 through the Frith, which divides the shores 
 of Cumberland from those of Galloway ;
 
 THE ABBOT. 359 
 
 but not till the vessel diminished to the 
 size of a child's frigate, did the doubtful, 
 and dejected, and dismissed followers of the 
 Queen cease to linger on the sands ; and 
 long, long could they discern the kerchief 
 of Mary, as she waved the oft-repeated sig- 
 nal of adieu to her faithful adherents, and 
 to the shores of Scotland. 
 
 If good tidings of a private nature could 
 have consoled Roland for parting with his 
 mistress, and for the distresses of his sove- 
 reign, he received such comfort some days 
 subsequent to the Queen's leaving Dun- 
 drennan. A breathless post — no other than 
 Adam Woodcock — brought dispatches from 
 Sir Halbert Glendinning to the Abbot, 
 whom he found, with Roland, still residing 
 at Dundrennan, and in vain torturing Bo- 
 niface with fresh interrogations. The pack-
 
 360 THE ABBOT. 
 
 et bore an earnest invitation to his bro- 
 ther to make Avenel Castle for a time 
 his residence. *' The clemency of the 
 Regent,** said the writer, « has extended 
 pardon both to Roland and to you, upon 
 condition of your remaining a time under 
 my wardship. And I have that to commu- 
 nicate respecting the parentage of Roland, 
 which not only you will willingly listen to, 
 but which will be also found to afford me, 
 as the husband of his nearest relative, 
 some interest in the future course of his 
 life." 
 
 The Abbot read this letter, and paused, 
 as if considering what were best for him to 
 do. Meanwhile, Woodcock took Roland 
 aside, and addressed him as follows : — 
 ** Now, look, Mr Roland, tliat you do not 
 let any papist nonsense hire either the priest 
 or you from the right quarry. See you, 
 you ever bore yourself as a bit of a gen- 
 tleman. Read that, and thank God that 
 tlirew old Abbot Boniface in our way, as 
 two of the Seyton's men v.-ere conveying
 
 THE ABBOT. 361 
 
 toward Dundrennan here.— We searched 
 him for intelligence concerning that fair 
 exploit of your's at Lochleven, that has 
 cost many a man his life, and me a set of 
 sore bones — and we found what is better 
 for your purpose than our's.** 
 
 The paper which he gave, was, indeed, 
 an attestation by Father Philip, subscribing 
 himself unworthy Sacristan, and brother of 
 the House of Saint Mary's, stating, *• that 
 under a vow of secrecy, he had united, in the 
 holy sacrament of marriage, Julian Avenel 
 and Catherine Graeme ; but that Julian ha- 
 ving repented of his union, he, Father 
 Philip, had been sinfully prevailed on by 
 him to conceal and disguise the same, ac- 
 cording to a complot devised betwixt him 
 and the said Julian Avenel, whereby the 
 poor damsel was induced to believe that 
 the ceremony had been performed by one 
 not in holy orders, and having no authority 
 to that effect. Which sinful concealment, 
 the undersigned conceived to be the cause 
 
 \OL. III. Q
 
 36"2 THE ABBOT. 
 
 wi)}- iie was abandoned to the misguidino^ 
 of a water-fiend, whereby he had been un- 
 der a spell, besides being sorely afflicted 
 with rheumatic pains ever after. Where- 
 fore he had deposited this testificate and 
 confession, with the day and date of the 
 said marriage, with his lawful superior Bo- 
 nilace, Abbot of Saint Mary's, suh sigilh 
 cmfessionisr 
 
 It appeared by a letter from Julian, fold^ 
 ed carefully up with the certificate, that the 
 Abbot Boniface had, in effect, bestirred 
 himself in the affair, and obtained from, the 
 Baron a promise to avow his marriage ; but 
 the death of Doth Julian and his injured 
 bride, together with the Abbot's resignation, 
 his ignorance of the fate of their unhappy 
 offspring, and, above all, his listless and in- 
 active disposition, had suffered the matter 
 to become totally forgotten, until it was 
 recalled by some accidental conversation 
 with the Abbot Ambrosius concerning the 
 fortunes of the Avenel familv. At the re-
 
 THE ABBOT. 363 
 
 quest of his successor, he searched for it ; 
 but, as he would receive no assistance in 
 looking among the few records of spiritual 
 experiences and important confessions, 
 which he had conscientiously treasured, 
 it might have remained for ever hidden 
 amongst them, but for the more active re- 
 searches of Sir Halbert Glendinning. 
 
 " So that you are like to be heir of Ave- 
 nel at last, Master Roland, after my lord 
 and lady have gone to their place," said 
 Adam ; " and as I have but one boon to 
 ask, I trust you will not nick me with 
 nay." 
 
 " Not if it be in my power to say yes,- 
 my trusty friend." 
 
 " Why then, I must needs, if I live to see 
 that day, keep on feeding the eyasses vath 
 unwashed flesh," said Woodcock sturdily, 
 yet as if doubting the reception that his 
 request might meet with. 
 
 '* Thou shalt feed them with what you 
 list for me," said Roland, laughing ; *' 1 am 
 not many months older than when I left
 
 364 THE ABBOT, 
 
 the Castle, but I trust I have gathered wit 
 enough to cross no man of skill in his own 
 vocation." 
 
 " Then I would not change places with 
 the King's falconer," said Adam Woodcock, 
 " nor with the Queen's neither — but they 
 say she will be mewed up and never need 
 one — I see it grieves you to think of it, and 
 I could grieve for company, but what help 
 for it — fortune will fly her own flight, let a 
 man hollo himself hoarse." 
 
 The Abbot and Roland journeyed to 
 Avenel, where the former was tenderly re- 
 ceived by his brother, while the lady wept 
 for joy to find that in her favourite orphan 
 she had protected the sole surviving branch 
 of her own family. Sir Halbert Glendin- 
 ning and his household were not a little 
 surprised at the change which a brief ac- 
 quaintance with the world had produced in 
 their former inmate, and rejoiced to find, 
 in the petted, spoiled, and presuming page, 
 a modest and unassuming young man, too 
 much acquainted with his own expectations
 
 THE ABBOT. 'j65 
 
 and character, to be hot or petulant in de- 
 manding the consideration which was rea- 
 dily and voluntarily yielded to him. The 
 old Major Dorao Wingate was the first to 
 sing his praises, to which Mrs Lilias bore a 
 loud echo, always hoping that God would 
 teach him the true gospel. 
 
 To the true gospel the heart of Roland 
 had secretly long inclined, and the depar- 
 ture of the good Abbot for France, with 
 the purpose of entering into some house of 
 his order in that kingdom, removed his 
 chief objection to renouncing the Catholic 
 faith. Another might have existed in the 
 duty which he owed to Magdalen Graeme, 
 both by birth and from gratitude. But he 
 learned, ere he had been long a resident in 
 Avenel, that his grandmother had died at 
 Cologne, in the performance of a penance 
 too severe for her age, which she had taken 
 upon herself in behalf of the Queen and 
 Church of Scotland, so soon as she heard 
 of the defeat at Langside. The zeal of the 
 Q 2
 
 ^66 THE ABBOT. 
 
 Abbot Ambfosius was more regulated, but 
 he retired into the Scottish convent of 
 
 — , and so lived there, that the fra- 
 
 ternity were inclined to claim for him the 
 honours of canonization. But he guessed 
 their purpose, and prayed them, on his 
 death bed, to do no honours to the body of 
 one as sinful as themselves ; but to send his 
 body and his heart to be buried in Avenel 
 burial-aisle, in the monastery of Saint Ma^ 
 ry's, that the last Abbot of that celebrated 
 house of devotion might sleep among its 
 ruins. 
 
 Long before that period arrived, Roland 
 Avenel was wedded to Catherine Seyton, 
 who, after two years residence with her un- 
 happy mistress, was dismissed, upon her be- 
 ing subjected to closer restraint than had 
 been at first exercised. She returned to 
 her father's house, and as Roland was ac- 
 knowledged for the successor and lawful 
 heir of the ancient house of Avenel, greatly 
 increased as the estate was by the provi- 
 dence of Sir Halbert Glendinning, there 
 11
 
 THE ABBOT. 367 
 
 occurred no objections to the match on the 
 part of her family. Her mother was re- 
 cently dead when she first entered the con- 
 vent ; and her father, in the unsettled times 
 which followed Queen Mary's flight to 
 England, was not averse to an alHance with 
 a youth, who, himself loyal to Queen Mary, 
 still held some influence, through means of 
 Sir Halbert Glendinning, v/ith the party in 
 power. 
 
 Roland and Catherine, therefore, were 
 united, spite of their differing faiths j and 
 the White Lady, whose apparition had been 
 infrequent when the House of Avenel seem- 
 ed verging to extinction, was seen to sport 
 by her haunted well, with a zone of gold 
 around her bosom as broad as the baldric 
 of an Earl. 
 
 THE END.
 
 liDlNBUK&Ji : 
 
 i^nnttd by Jaincs Ballantync- and Co.

 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 ?P 1 1 1^53 
 
 '^ " ; • O'X'f 
 
 P^D^^ ' 
 
 
 ^^4f 
 
 MA> 3 1 lOf 
 
 ib -■
 
 S317 
 Al2 
 1&20 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 075 972 
 
 lyvsv; 
 
 ('FOKNU