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 MR MWBY'S NEW WORKS. 
 
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 produced In the Italian scenery and in the 
 
 Italian intrigue, there is a freshness and attraction 
 which the reader will find in these pages much to 
 his sympathies, while the fidelity and tact with which 
 the accessories of place, and character are blended 
 together, constitute not the least attractive charm of 
 a very charming tale. — Dispatch.
 
 MR. NEWBY'S NEW WOEKS. 
 
 A New Novel by G. R K. JAMES, Esq. 
 
 In Three Vols. (In MA Y.J 
 
 THE 
 
 OLD OAK CHEST: 
 
 A TALE OF DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 B Y G. P. R. JAMES, Esq. 
 
 Author of ' The Gipsy,' ' Darnley,' ' The Forgery/ 
 ' The Woodman,' ' Richelieu.' 
 
 3 
 
 In Three Vols. {Shortly.) 
 E L L I E FORESTERE. 
 
 BY JOHN* BRENT, Esq. 
 
 Author of ' The Battle Cross/ etc. etc. 
 
 4 
 In Three Vols. (Now ready.) 
 
 THE YOUNGER SISTER. 
 
 A Novel. By Mrs. HUBBACK, (late miss austen.)
 
 THE 
 
 AEMOUKER'S DAUGHTEE 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 BORDER RIDERS, 
 
 a Nobel 
 
 IN THREE YOLUMES VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHEK, 
 
 30, WELBECK St., CAVENDISH S^. 
 1850.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/armourersdaughte01robi
 
 V. V 
 
 THE 
 
 ARMOURER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ^. 
 
 (^ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 It wa« a pale but lovelj face, 
 Yet in its fresh spring of grace 
 That spring before or leaf or flower 
 Has known a single withering hour : 
 With lips red as the earliest rose 
 That opens for the bee's repose. 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 On a bright autumn afternoon in the year 
 1492, the little town of Saint Evert, was 
 thrown into a state of unusual excitement 
 by the expected arrival of its sovereign 
 VOL. I. B
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER, 
 
 Ladj^ Margaret Duchess of Burgundy, who 
 had expressed her intention of taking up 
 her abode for a few days, within the walls 
 of the ancient priory, which, situated on 
 an adjoining eminence, overlooked a vast 
 extent of'country, peopled by obedient vas- 
 sals, who did not reverence the spiritual 
 authority of their rulers less, because it 
 was supported by secular power. The prior 
 himself, attended by the chief dignitaries of 
 the institution, issued forth to receive his 
 royal guest; grave burghers donned their 
 festive garbs, anxious to display their wil- 
 ling fealty, and several knights, from dis- 
 taHt parts of the province, joined the 
 cavalcade; their glittering pennons and gay 
 armour; lending fresh gaiety to the scene. 
 The streets were lined with spectators ; 
 mechanics and artisans had thrown aside 
 their various labours, and their voices 
 shouted a rough welcome as the courtly 
 train swept by. The noble dames of the 
 vicinity were ranged on a balcony erected 
 in front of the Hall of Justice; but, not-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 3 
 
 withstanding the bevy of beauty assembled 
 there ; many a knightly glance wandered- 
 from their united attractions to an upper 
 window in the house of Nicholas Hather- 
 ton the stout armourer of Saint Evert. 
 This was scarcely to be wondered at, for 
 the fair young face visible from that humble 
 casement, could hardly have found an equal in 
 its rare loveliness among, the well-born 
 maidens who crowded the platform beneath. 
 Nicholas Hatherton was born -in -the north 
 of merrie England; and having left his. 
 native land in the ,primeVof manhood to- ac- 
 quaint himself with an improvement in the 
 fashion of the steel corslet, his heart became- 
 captivated by the foreignbeauty of a-young 
 Milanese ; accordingly he married her, and 
 finally established himself at Saint .Evert 
 where he pursued his old craft. His wife -did 
 not long enjoy her wedded happiness, she 
 died the second year after her mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Viola, the armourer's only daughter, once 
 B 3
 
 THE AEMOURER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 the plaything of his idle hours, had now 
 grown into the careful housewife and aifec- 
 tionate companion. She had received no 
 other tuition than that occasionally be- 
 stowed on her by the sisters of aneighbouring 
 convent ; but the natural powers of her 
 mind were of a superior class ; and her mo- 
 therless position, instead of rendering her 
 wilful and froward, had only imparted to 
 her character a thoughtfulness and self- 
 control beyond her years. She was little 
 more than seventeen, and had inherited all 
 her mother's beauty. Her features were 
 faultless; her shining, raven hair was 
 simply braided upon a brow of exqui- 
 site whiteness; her full dark eye beam- 
 ed with peculiar lustre, and the calm, 
 pure, expression of that Madonna-like 
 countenance, seemed to promise it would 
 pity the human weakness it couid not 
 share. On the present occasion, Viola was 
 arrayed with a costliness becoming the 
 heiress of one of the richest artisans of 
 Saint Evert; her boddice was made of dark
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 cloth of Tours, embroidered in seed pearP 
 and fitted closely round her snow-white 
 throat, and the light blue kerseymere petti- 
 coat, terminated rather above the ankle, 
 displaying to advantage the small slippered 
 foot. But her gay apparel had not influ- 
 enced her mood, for she leaned against the 
 balustrade with a listless air ; and as she 
 gazed from her chamber window upon the 
 moving throng below, she did not seem to 
 note that a sturdy mechanic would often 
 doff his cap in her honor, or a young knight 
 occasionally rein in his steed as he rode by 
 her dwelling. However, this apparent in- 
 sensibility was not doomed to last long, for, 
 suddenly a quick step trod the adjoining 
 corridor, and then the colour rose to her 
 cheek, and the glad light flew to her eye, 
 although she did not change her posi- 
 tion. 
 
 "What ails you, fair mistress Viola?" 
 said a blithe, frank voice, as the door of 
 the apartment w^as opened by the speaker;
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " how haps it that you keep house while all 
 the world are making holiday?" 
 
 " Nay, Master Warbeck," replied the 
 maiden ; " it was not exactly by choice. 
 As all the people were from home, my father 
 judged it fitting to give an eye to the work- 
 shop, and so considered himself obliged to 
 deny me his companionship.'' 
 
 " Now, out on my blindness !" exclaimed 
 the armour's young apprentice; " here have 
 I lost the happiest chance of having on my 
 arm the pride of our town — your new kir- 
 tle would have filled the damsels with ill- 
 pleased wonder — and your fair presence 
 would have made me the envy of all the 
 court gallants." 
 
 To this Viola replied not, being engaged 
 in arranging one of her ruffles which had 
 become slightly displaced. 
 
 " In sooth," continued the youth, " this 
 fault must be amended ; and I shall 
 not be on terms with myself, until we have 
 taken a ramble among the sight-seekers/'
 
 THE ARMOURER S DAUGHTER. 7 
 
 " And what thought you of the pageant?" 
 interrupted Viola. 
 
 ''Twas a brave show; first came the 
 reverend fathers in their vestments of state 
 — then the solid burghers appearing half 
 ashamed to find themselves in the gay pro- 
 cession — after them rode the daintily-clad 
 knights, seemingly fit for nought but to 
 win a lady's ear — although, I warrant, there 
 was some good metal amongst them — and in 
 the rear of all, came the grim soldiers, look- 
 ing as if they were part and parcel of their 
 horses.^' 
 
 " But the Duchess?'' demanded Viola. 
 
 *' I saw her not. I will tell you how it 
 fell out. I had pushed myself into the 
 front of the throng, and seeing the royal group 
 approach, had just prepared to cry a lusty 
 ' God save Margaret of Burgundy,' when 
 my eye lighted on a lady who rode on the 
 right of the Duchess. I never yet beheld 
 such a blaze of beauty — my breath was 
 suspended — my brain grew dizzy, and in- 
 voluntarily I sank on one knee. I felt no-
 
 8 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 thing but the power of that excess of love- 
 liness — when my senses returned to me the 
 fair apparition had vanished from view — the 
 crowd was shouting at the the top of their 
 voices, and there knelt I looking, it must be 
 confessed, somewhat like a fool." 
 
 " Can you not describe this incomparable 
 being?" asked Viola. 
 
 " She was like nothing these eyes have 
 ever looked on — stately as a queen — soft as 
 a woman — bright as an angel — a miracle 
 of nature — '' 
 
 " A miracle of folly T' exclaimed a third 
 person, who had entered the room unper- 
 ceived by the others. " Out of what rhyme- 
 book have you borrowed those fine words? 
 You must have had sorry sport an you 
 made not better use of your holiday than 
 by gaping on a cunning piece of red and 
 white of Nature's workmanship." 
 
 The speaker was Nicholas Hatherton; 
 although advanced in life, he was still hale 
 and vigorous. Perkin Warbeck was a great 
 favorite with the old man, owing to the ap-
 
 THE ARMOURER S DAUGHTER. 9 
 
 titude he displayed in bis craft; and was, 
 in consequence, permitted many indulgen- 
 ces which were not granted to the otlier 
 workmen. Some months previous to the 
 opening of our narrative, he had wounded his 
 hand while endeavouring to carry out a new 
 device invented by bis master; during the 
 time that he was disabled, he was ad- 
 mitted into tbe amourer's house, and 
 placed under the tendance of young 
 mistress Viola ; thus a greater degree of in- 
 timacy and familiarity had arisen between 
 the parties than their different positions 
 seemed to warrant. 
 
 Perkin Warbeck was a foundling, although 
 his extraction was unknown it was generally 
 believed that the authors of his being be- 
 longed to the dregs of the people. In his 
 childhood he had been protected by a bene- 
 volent Jevv^ ; after the death of his benefac- 
 tor he had tried his fortune in various ways 
 — at one time he fell into the company of 
 a wandering Trouveur, then he became 
 page to a noble lady, but growing weary of
 
 10 
 
 such an uneventful life, he was promoted to 
 the household of her kinsman, a warlike 
 baron ; a hasty word soon procured his dis- 
 missal from thence, and finally he took up 
 service with his present master, with whom 
 he had remained for upwards of two years. 
 We have not yet described the exterior of 
 our young apprentice, but as circumstances 
 will hereafter compel us to do so with some 
 minuteness, suffice it for the present to observe 
 that his appearance was singularly preposses- 
 sing, which added to a ready wit, rendered him 
 a general favorite. 
 
 Scarcely more than a Loy in years, he 
 was possessed of a natural aptitude for 
 imitation, and as his varied career had 
 given him th(^ opportunity of observing the 
 different grades of society, he could with 
 equal ease affect the flippant bearing of a 
 young cavalier, or the more sober deport- 
 ment of one of his own station. 
 
 Perkin Warbeck bore with extreme good- 
 humour the armourer's raillery, and only 
 preferred a request that his daughter might
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER, 11 
 
 be entrusted to his charge for an hour or so, 
 to take the air and divert herself abroad. 
 
 " I know not that it would be wise/' re- 
 plied the old man ; '' our town is full of 
 strangers, the ways of these courtiers are 
 not unknown to me; if they fixed their 
 bold eyes on my child they would follow 
 her home and come here asking for new in- 
 ventions in armour and weapons, but really 
 to spy after other ware." 
 
 " Fear nothing," exclaimed the youth 
 vehemently ; " i should like to see the 
 highest in the land cast a glance failing in 
 respect at .Mistress Viola while I am with 
 her : a good Bilboa blade should teach 
 them—" 
 
 " Hot-headed boy !" interrupted Hather- 
 ton ; " can 1 never teach you that which 
 becomes your class? A good ashen stick 
 is the only weapon fit for your hand." 
 
 " Stick or sword I care not," answered 
 Warbeck; '• I would soon make them rue 
 the day they gave their eyes so wide a 
 license."
 
 12 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 The prudent father turned to his daughter 
 to hear what she had to say in favor of the 
 proposed plan. Hers was a woman's argu- 
 ment, and one she would do well always to 
 adhere to. Yiola advanced to her father's 
 side, and throwing her arms about his neck, 
 pressed a kiss upon his cheek. 
 
 " Nay,'^ said the old man, as if in answer 
 to this mute appeal ; "I say not that what 
 I apprehend must come to pass — and then 
 it is only for once in a way. Well, get 
 thy veil and muffler and begone. I would 
 not deny thee aught reasonable, but it would 
 fret me to have thee scared." 
 
 The young people quickly availed them- 
 selves of the permission thus accorded, and 
 set out together on their expedition — the 
 young man laughing and talking, and gazing 
 with curiosity on every fresh face ; and she 
 — her large loving eyes seldom strayed from 
 the countenance of her companion, except 
 when he turned his glance towards her to 
 direct her attention to some object of inte-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 13 
 
 rest, and then hers instinctively sought the 
 ground. 
 
 The apprehensions of the old man appa- 
 rently were not realized, and his daughter 
 returned home Avithout having encountered 
 anything to alarm her timidity or call forth 
 the prowess of her champion.
 
 14 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 INTRIGUE. 
 
 I'll read you matter deep and dangerous. 
 As full of peril and advent'rous spirit 
 As to o'er walk a current roaring loud, 
 Or the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 
 Shakespeare* 
 
 Margaret of Burgundy, widow of Charles 
 the Bold, was deseryedlj popular through- 
 out the province. Since the decease of her 
 husband she had held the reins of govern- 
 ment with a wisdom and prudence scarcely
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 15 
 
 to be expected in one of her violent cha- 
 racter, and while the affairs of state pros- 
 pered under her guidance, she had devoted 
 herself to superintending the education of 
 the heir to the dukedom, with a vigilant 
 zeal which justly entitled her to the esteem 
 and affection of all parties. 
 
 Temperate and politic in her general 
 views, there was, however, one subject on 
 which the impetuosity of her feelings had 
 betrayed her into signal error. An Eng- 
 lishwoman by birth^ a daughter of the house 
 of York, and sister to Edward the Fourth 
 of England, her youth had witnessed the 
 contentions of the rival roses, and so deeply 
 had she entered into the party-spirit of the 
 age, that even after the lapse of so many 
 years, the very name of Lancaster could 
 conjure up an evil spirit in her bosom which 
 neither time nor absence had sufBced to 
 allay. Apparently, the field of Bosworth 
 had decided for ever the claims of York. 
 Henry the Seventh now wore the British 
 crown, and in him centred all the animosity
 
 16 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 that Margaret bore to the hereditary ene- 
 mies of her race. 
 
 Malcontents of all descriptions resorted 
 from England to the Court of Burgundy, 
 where they found immediate countenance 
 and protection. No means, however un- 
 justifiable or unworthy, were left untried to 
 weaken the security of Henry's position; 
 the insurrection of Simnel was aided and 
 abetted by Margaret, and notwithstanding 
 the ill-success of this endeavour, her restless 
 brain even now fabricated an intrigue which 
 should shake the kingdom of her foe to the 
 very centre. 
 
 In a spacious and richly decorated apart- 
 ment of the venerable Priory of Saint 
 Evert sat the Duchess, of Burgundy. Be- 
 fore her was a table covered with papers, 
 which she seemed to scan with an anxious 
 air, while a frown of impatience contracted 
 her brow and rendered more marked the 
 lines of age visible on her once handsome 
 countenance. She was not alone: in the 
 recess of a large bay window stood the ex-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 17 
 
 quisitely moulded figure of the lady whose 
 extreme loveliness had excited the enthusi- 
 asm of the armourer's apprentice. This 
 was the Lady Katherine Gordon, daughter 
 of the £arl of Huntley, and near kinswoman 
 to the throne of Scotland, who, during her 
 father's absence on a foreign mission, had 
 come to spend some weeks with the Duchess, 
 to whose late lord she was distantly re- 
 lated. As true chroniclers we feel bound 
 to assert the pre-eminence of her beauty, a 
 fact which history even has not passed by 
 in silence. 
 
 Neither pen nor pencil could avail to give 
 to posterity a description of the face of the 
 most beautiful woman of her time, for the 
 charm of expression, constituted one of its 
 principal attractions, and whether her 
 bright blue eyes sparkled in their own sun- 
 shine, or softly melted into liquid lustre, 
 the beholder was always ready to acknow- 
 ledge that the mood she wore became her 
 best. 
 
 The fair stranger had evidently been
 
 18 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 employed at her tapestry frame, but had 
 now pushed it from her, and stood looking 
 thoughtfully down the broad avenue which 
 led to the principal gate of the Priory. 
 Her reverie was interrupted by the Duchess, 
 who exclaimed, 
 
 " Why should we covet the gift of memory 
 to ransack the storehouse of the past, when 
 the present plainly shows how ill a fruit the 
 promising blossom bore? Methinks I feel 
 like the peasant churl who hoarded the fairy 
 gold and found it turned to ashes. There," 
 continued she, pointing to some papers near 
 her, " there are documents swearing faithful 
 service to our line — devotion to the death 
 — allegiance that could own no change: 
 they were written years ago, and I have 
 preserved them as records of noble and tried 
 friends, until I find them utterly valueless. 
 Here are characters traced by the same hands 
 in which they give themselves the lie, 
 breathing words of cold excuse, proffers of 
 duty where more important interests were 
 not at stake. Traitors all! it is almost
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 19 
 
 enough to weary one of life to see its base 
 deceptions I" 
 
 " Naj, dear madam/' interposed Kather- 
 ine, " while the Avorld still holds some true 
 hearts, it is bootless to grieve over the 
 many that are false." 
 
 " Wisely said/' returned Margaret, " and 
 I take shame to myself, that the desertion 
 of such poor caitiffs should have had power 
 to move me thus. Let us talk of other 
 things. What is your opinion/' she asked 
 after a slight pause, " of the celebrated 
 Arabian astrologer, Abdulrahman Ubrantes, 
 who is astonishing the whole district with 
 his predictions?" 
 
 " I have no faith in the tricks of these 
 soothsayers/' replied the Lady Gordon 
 laughing, "but my waiting-women report 
 marvels of his skill." 
 
 " Have you then, no wish to raise the 
 veil that shrouds futurity from view?" en- 
 quired the Duchess in a tone of interest, 
 for she was not exempt from the supersti- 
 tious belief in the power of magic, which
 
 20 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 prevailed so generally in the fourteenth 
 century. 
 
 *^ The curiosity usually ascribed to our 
 sex, forbids me to deny it/' replied Kather- 
 ine, " but I would not be made the theme 
 of idle gossip." 
 
 '' That can be avoided," said Margaret, 
 " I must own I have a desire to question 
 this far-famed star-gazer. Leave the 
 management of the affair to me. We will 
 go as if to pay a visit to the Hotel de 
 Clagny, bid our suite await us at the outer 
 gate, and then, putting on a disguise, we 
 will pass through the back postern and 
 seek the dwelling of the Arabian.'' 
 
 " At this moment, before Katheriue had 
 time to offer any opposition to the proposed 
 plan, three slight taps were heard at the 
 door, which was then opened, without the 
 permission to enter being given, and a 
 priest, wrapped in the dark, loose robes of 
 his order, stood on the threshold. The in- 
 truder held the rank of sub-prior in the 
 monastery, although he was seldom there,
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 21 
 
 being confessor to the Duchess, and also, 
 as rumour asserted, her chief counsellor in 
 the private correspondence which she con- 
 tinued to entertain with the former ad- 
 herents of her family. 
 
 Father Hubert was a man about fifty 
 years of age, rather above the ordinary 
 stature, and his spare frame seemed to tell 
 of severe penance and nightly vigils. The 
 upper part of his countenance was far from 
 unpleasing; the broad, benevolent brow, 
 the calm, untroubled eye, suited well his 
 garb and calling, but the mouth marred the 
 effect of the whole, and excited surprise 
 that it should be connected so closely with 
 features of quite a different cast; the upper 
 lip was extremely long, and not possessing 
 the usual curve, extended from side to 
 side in one unbroken line, only inclining 
 downwards at the corners; the under lip 
 was twice the size of its fellow, and drooped 
 considerably, displaying to view a set of 
 glittering white teeth. It has many times 
 been declared that the eye is the window of
 
 22 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 the soul; it may be so, and yet to our 
 thinking the mouth is nearly as often the 
 vehicle of expression, and less under the 
 control of the owner — however, one thing 
 is certain, the mouth of Father Hubert 
 would neither have passed muster with the 
 physiognomist, nor the admirer of beauty. 
 !N'one had ever heard him speak of any 
 kindred ties, none knew the land of his 
 birth, although most living languages came 
 with equal readiness to his tongue. 
 
 With a slow step, the priest advanced to 
 the table at which the Duchess was seated, 
 but as his glance fell on the recess occupied 
 by Lady Katherine Gordon, he paused. 
 
 " Pardon, noble lady," said he, " I thought 
 •you were alone; if it please you T will re- 
 tire, but having received despatches from 
 the other side of the Channel, I sought 
 you.^' 
 
 '' News from England, my native Eng- 
 land I" exclaimed the Duchess, " hcyv my 
 heart beats at the very name. Out with
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 thy tidings, good father, for my patience 
 this morning is at a very low ebb." 
 
 '* Your anxiety is natural and shall speedily 
 be gratified," returned the confessor. :;. , 
 
 Immediately on Father Hubert's entrance, 
 Katherine began to collect her scattered 
 work, and prepared to withdraw. As she 
 passed, she made a lowly obeisance to the 
 priest, who extended his hands in silent 
 benediction over her bowed head, and 
 then she glided from the apartment. 
 
 Scarcely was the door closed upon her 
 retreating form, when the confessor drew 
 from his breast a packet of papers, some 
 had been read and had been sent to himself, 
 but many were unopened, being addressed 
 to Margaret of Burgundy. The Duchess 
 grasped them with an eager hand, and was 
 soon absorbed in their perusal. Father Hubert 
 withdrew to the bay window, and having 
 taken from the oaken shelf an illuminated 
 missal, he feigned to be engaged in ex- 
 amining it, although his clear eye frequently
 
 24 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 turned its searching light on the distant 
 reader, as if to trace from her aspect, the 
 feelings called forth by the intelligence be- 
 fore her. To judge from her countenance, 
 her emotions were sufficiently varied — at 
 first an appearance of undisguised interest, 
 succeeded by a glow of pleasure, then a 
 flush of surprise, and at last a slight shade 
 of dissatisfaction gathered over her features, 
 as throwing the packet from her and lean- 
 ing her head upon her hand, she seemed to 
 commune with herself. 
 
 " Too late," she exclaimed, at length 
 breaking the long silence; ''too late do 
 these fickle nobles and short-sighted gen- 
 try discover, that Henry Y II. is no king 
 for the brave and the ambitious — with a 
 soul absorbed in the accumulation of wealth, 
 how is he fit to rule a mighty people? But 
 what avails the general disaffection now^ — the 
 last descendents of our line fill a bloody 
 grave, and Elizabeth, my dead brother's 
 daughter, has wedded the conqueror and 
 sealed the downfal of her father's house.''
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 25 
 
 " They say he loves her not/" observed 
 the confessor in a low tone. 
 
 " Love r cried Margaret, " what should 
 his cold, calculating spirit know of a feel- 
 ing unfettered by rules of policy — and be- 
 sides, he is jealous that the name of York 
 is still loved by the many, and he does not 
 brook to find he owes his secure possession 
 of the throne to his union with her. Oh, 
 that I were a man for a few brief months ! 
 I would give half the remnant of my days 
 to see the White Rose borne victorious 
 through the routed foe." 
 
 '* 'Tis a pity, madam," said Father Hu- 
 bert, " that you cannot delegate to another 
 your spirit and your ancestors." 
 
 " Yet the project of Simnel failed/' ob- 
 served the Duchess, her thoughts immedi- 
 ately reverting to the channel intended by 
 her companion. 
 
 " It was an ill-concerted enterprise,'' re- 
 plied Father Hubert, " and met the tate it 
 merited." 
 
 " Think you that a better digested scheme 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 might be brought to successful issue?" 
 asked Margaret. 
 
 " That question would be difficult to 
 solve/' said the priest in a musing tone. 
 " True, Simnel fell, but the times are dif- 
 ferent. Henry's avarice has alienated the 
 minds of his subjects — the crown sits loosely 
 on his brow, and it only requires the raising 
 of a hand to wrench it thence." 
 
 *' Ay ! but where may that hand be found ? 
 Earl Warwick, the only son of poor Cla- 
 rence, has been a prisoner in the Tower, 
 until, crippled in body and imbecile in mind, 
 be is scarcely fit to go at large." 
 
 " How changed would have been the 
 aspect of things, had either of the young 
 princes escaped the murderer's hand/' re- 
 marked the priest. 
 
 " Retrospect is useless," said Margaret 
 sharply, for she liked not that another 
 should dwell on the crimes of her family. 
 " They are all swept from the face of the 
 earth, and I am left alone to mourn them." 
 
 '' In England," pursued Father Hubert,
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 27 
 
 " the belief is prevalent, that your youngest 
 nephew did not share his brother's doom, 
 and still lies in concealment for the better 
 security of his person/' 
 
 *' What care I/' exclaimed the Duchess, 
 " if all the world give credit to the tale, 
 when I know it to be false." 
 
 " Others," said the priest, " would easily 
 be persuaded to think it true, and one might 
 be found to personate the character." The 
 Dache^ started, but made no reply. Fa- 
 ther Hubert continued : *' It can be no in- 
 jury to the dead to assume their name — thus 
 might your kindred be avenged, and the 
 noble hearts panting to dethrone the usurper 
 would find a leader." 
 
 Margaret cast down her eyes and fell 
 into a deep fit of musing — there were evil 
 passions busy within her breast, and amid 
 the war of contending feelings, the still 
 small whisper of conscience became every 
 instant less audible, until it sank at last 
 completely overpowered. 
 
 *' Leave me now," said she raising her 
 c 3
 
 28 THE armourer's daughter, 
 
 head, and addressing her companion; "I 
 am weary with over-thought. We will 
 talk of these things at some other time. I 
 would wish to be alone." 
 
 The subtle confidant withdrew, and the 
 lady relapsed into a train of thought. 
 
 That evening, as Margaret presided at 
 the banquet, talking lightly with the younger 
 members of her court, or apparently listen- 
 ing to the grave discourse of the Prior, she 
 often murmured inwardly : 
 
 " Where shall I find the hand to work 
 my will?"
 
 THE AKMOURER'S DAUGHTER, 29 
 
 OHAPTEK IIL 
 
 THE astrologer's CHAMBER, 
 
 I conjure you by that which you profess, 
 (Howe'er you come to know it) answer me. 
 
 Shakespeare, 
 
 We must now change the scene to the 
 chamber of the Arabian astrologer. It 
 was the night following the conversation 
 recorded in the last chapter. The room, 
 which was circular, and its appurtenances, 
 bore evident marks of the owner's addiction
 
 30 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 to tlie occult sciences. Curious instru- 
 ments, foreign plants, and vessels of an- 
 tique shape, strewed the floor; strange 
 hieroglyphics were depicted on the walls, 
 and the ceiling had been painted to repre- 
 sent the celestial hemisphere. The light 
 of day was perpetually excluded from the 
 apartment, and a brazen lamp, emitting 
 the choicest perfumes, burned there con- 
 tinually. 
 
 By that dim and mystic light, Abdul- 
 rahman Ubrantes stood examining some 
 yellow parchments which he held before 
 hira. In appearance he was a very aged 
 man; but the weight of years had not 
 bowed his commanding figure, and although 
 his face was literally seamed with wrinkles, 
 his eye had lost none of its fire — the swar- 
 thy complexion of his features denoted the 
 Eastern land that gave him birlb, and con- 
 trasted singularly with his robe of snowy 
 whiteness. Suddenly a panel in the wal], 
 formed so skilfully as to elude the inspec- 
 tion of the most observant, was pushed
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 31 
 
 aside, and in another moment Father Hu- 
 bert, confessor to the Duchess of Burgundy, 
 passed through the aperture. 
 
 Apparently the intruder was known to 
 the astrologer, for he merely recognised his 
 presence by a slight inclination of the 
 head, while his eyes remained fixed on the 
 parchment. 
 
 '''- Listen," said the priest, without no- 
 ticing the other's abstraction, " you have 
 often fulfilled my behest, and have no cause 
 to term me ungrateful, although the service 
 has been mutual. You have encouraged 
 our vassals to obedience by the promise of 
 earthly blessings, and the church has ex- 
 tended over you the shield of protection, 
 where she might have raised the sword of 
 persecution. Once more I claim your aid. 
 Two ladies will be here anon to consult 
 your skill — one of them is — " and the 
 priest approached his lips to the ear of his 
 companion, who exhibited no other mark of 
 surprise at the whispered name, than an
 
 82 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 almost imperceptible elevation of the eye- 
 brows. 
 
 " Say on/' observed the astrologer 
 calmly. 
 
 '* She will seek to learn from you some- 
 thing of the future/' continued the priest. 
 " Tell her the goodliest tree in the forest 
 has been nearly hewn do^^n, but another 
 branch shall be grafted on that noble ruin, 
 which shall spread and grow and cast its 
 welcome shade around, until the passers by 
 shall bless the hand which grafted in that 
 alien branch. Read this scroll, you will 
 find therein all I would have you say — 
 use your own language, but make the mean- 
 ing plain." 
 
 " And the other lady what of her?" 
 asked the astrologer, glancing over the 
 paper. 
 
 " It matters not. Whisper in her ear 
 any light folly that a young maiden might 
 be apt to like." 
 
 Father Hubert now drew from his gir-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 33 
 
 a purse full of gold coin, which he laid 
 upon the table. The astrologer uttered no 
 thanks, but raised his fore finger in token 
 of warning, the confessor sprang through 
 the open panel which he closed after him, 
 and Abdulrahman Ubrantes stood once more 
 alone. 
 
 Father Hubert's departure was only just 
 effected in time to escape detection, for in 
 the following moment the door of the apart- 
 ment glided noiselessly open, and two ladies, 
 masked and wrapped in loose mantles, ap- 
 peared on the threshold. In the house of 
 the astrologer, the doors from the outer 
 portal to that of the reception chamber, 
 seemed to open of their own accord at 
 the approach of any stranger who came to 
 consult the sage; this did not fail to pro- 
 duce a certain sensation of awe in the su- 
 perstitious, but as we are no believers in 
 necromancy, we consider the peculiar mode 
 of entry was effected by some mechanical 
 ■arrangement, set in motion by some invisi*- 
 ble agent. 
 
 c 5
 
 34 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Abdulrabman advanced two or three 
 steps to meet his visitors, and then fixing 
 on them his penetrating glance, led them 
 to a cushioned seat at the upper end of 
 the room. 
 
 ''What seek ye, my gentle dames?" 
 asked Abdulrahman, as he placed himself 
 before them. 
 
 " Learned sir," said the elder of the la- 
 dies in an affected accent, " we have come 
 to enquire of your wisdom, if our husbands 
 will make a successful treaty with the rich 
 merchants of Flanders for the work of our 
 looms." 
 
 " Eoyal lady," replied the Arabian 
 gravely, " why sully thy lips with a false- 
 hood, or degrade them with an unworthy 
 jest? Me thou can'st not deceive." 
 
 " I am then known to you !" exclaimed the 
 lady. 
 
 " Duchess of Burgundy," said Abdul- 
 rabman, " if my boasted lore could not 
 teach me so simple a matter, how couldst 
 thou expect that it would avail thee?"
 
 THE ARM /URER'S DAUGHTER. 35 
 
 "Believe me," replied the Duchess, ''I 
 have never doubted you, but rather sought 
 an excuse to mysetf for the confidence I 
 felt.'^ 
 
 " Thou sayest well,'' returned the astro- 
 loger, " and know, madam, that to those 
 who seek me with distrusting minds, it is 
 not permitted me to make the revelation of 
 their destinies — now I wait thy bidding." 
 
 Margaret paused for a few moments, 
 anxious to fr:ime her questions so as not 
 to make too plain an exposure of her de- 
 sisfns: the astrologer met her hesitation 
 with a half contemptuous smile, and then 
 exclaimed : 
 
 '' Lady, 1 read thy heart and will answer 
 to thy thoughts — the future is unveiled 
 before me — I see an ishmd throne filled by 
 an alien, yet will he bear the cognizance of 
 a mighty house — a crown shall be lost and 
 won — in these changes shalt thou have thy 
 part— when the work is ready, a fitting tool 
 shall be found — scruple not to use the 
 means which will present themselves — re-
 
 36 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 ject them, and the fame of thy line is ended 
 — accept them, and the dearest wish of thy 
 heart is fulfilled." • 
 
 " Stay 1" exclaimed the Duchess, " I 
 would fain know — " 
 
 " No more — the fates brook no further 
 questioning,'' and Abdulrahman turned to 
 Margaret's companion, who had not yet 
 uttered a single word; he took her soft 
 hand in his, and looked with an air of in- 
 terest on the varied lines. " He who next 
 shall touch this fair hand," said the astro- 
 loger, " shall live to place on the finger the 
 circlet of gold w'hich shn.U link thee to him 
 for ever — the union shall be of hearts as 
 well as hands — meantime all good angels 
 have thee in their keeping, and now fare- 
 well." 
 
 The Arabian struck a silver bell, which 
 immediately summoned a swarthy atten- 
 dant, to whom he intimated, by a silent ges- 
 ture, that his visitors should be conducted 
 from his presence. The Duchess presented 
 a massive gold chain in acknowledgment
 
 THE armoUx^er's DAUGHTj-R. 37 
 
 of his services, and would gladly have 
 spoken a few words at parting, but the as- 
 trologer having made a lowly obeisance, in 
 homage of her rank, with an impatient 
 wave of the hand, signi^ed that he would 
 be alone. 
 
 When the sound of their retreating foot- 
 steps had died away, Abdulrahman care- 
 lessly swept into a small oaken chest, the 
 coin and costly chain which had been be- 
 stowed on him in guerdon of his predic= 
 tions. 
 
 " Thus," murmured he, '* am I compelled 
 to pander to ignorance and folly, to obtain 
 the means to serve the glorious cause of 
 science — I am nigh weary of this jugglery, 
 but the end will atone for all." 
 
 And ofivinq orders that he should be dis- 
 turbed no more that night, the alchemist 
 retired to his laboratory. 
 
 The two masked ladies were conducted 
 through various corridors by their silent 
 guide, and at length dismissed by a portal 
 different to that by which they entered.
 
 38 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 Much to their surprise, they now found 
 themselves in the principal street of the 
 town; a group of young mechanics stood 
 direct on their path, and immediately oh- 
 serving the house from which they had issued, 
 approached them with loud shouts and 
 bursts of merriment. 
 
 ** Hallo ! my pretty dames," exclaimed 
 one, '' let us see if you merit the good for- 
 tune the prophet has promised you," and as 
 he spoke he laid his profane hand on t!.e 
 mask of the younger lady — a half sup- 
 pressed shriek escaped her lips — at this 
 moment a youth, who also wore the garb of 
 an artisan, sprang into the centre of the 
 throng and thrusting aside her assailant, 
 exclaimed in a loud tone : 
 
 " Back, all of ye ; or you will rue this 
 jest till the last day of your lives." 
 
 The remonstrance had effect, for tlie i indi- 
 vidual w^ho uttered it was evidently known 
 to most of the party, and the crowd fell 
 back, somewhat astonished at the vehemence 
 of the interference.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 39 
 
 " Whither is it your pleasure that I attend 
 you, noble lady ?" asked the young stranger 
 with an air of the most profound reve- 
 rence. 
 
 ''- To the Hotel de Clagny," was the re- 
 ply. 
 
 The ladies hurried on in the direction 
 they had indicated, and their unknown 
 champion followed half a pace behind. A 
 few minutes brought them to their destina- 
 tion. As they stood before the ponderous 
 gate of the Hotel, the Duchess turned to the 
 young stranger. 
 
 "We are beholden to you," said she, 
 " for your ready service, and would wish to 
 learn the name of our protector." 
 
 " An it please you, gracious madam, I 
 am called Ferkin Warbeck," replied the 
 young man in a respectful tone. 
 
 *' We shall not forget to whom we are 
 indebted," continued Margaret. " Be dis- 
 creet on this night's adventure, and you 
 shall not repent the part you have played 
 therein."
 
 40 THE ARMOtJRFR^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Accept my thanks also/^ added tlie 
 other lady ; and as she slightly inclined her 
 head, her mask, which had been loosened in 
 the affray, became unfastened and fell at the 
 feet of Perkin Warbeck. He instantly 
 raised it, and removing his cap as be re- 
 turned it, with an innate courtliness which 
 art could not teach, he fixed his eyes upon 
 the ground, resolute not to avail himself of 
 the opportunity to gaze on a countenance 
 which the owner had evidently intended to 
 conceal. When the mask was presented, 
 their hands accidentally met, and a gay 
 smile played on the fair one's lip as she gave 
 a glance at the artisan, and called to mind 
 the prediction of the astrologer. The 
 Duchess also turned her keen gaze on the 
 stranger, and as the light from the arch* 
 way of the gate for the first time completely 
 exposed his lineaments to her vie\Y, she 
 suddenly started back and passed her hand 
 rapidly before her eyes, to assure herself of 
 the reality of her vision. The face that 
 met her sight was possessed of singular and
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 Striking beauty ; and let not carping critics 
 call the term misplaced, for we have autho- 
 rity to state that the outward appearance 
 of Perkin Warbeck was "of exceeding 
 comeliness ;" although the complexion was 
 fair, the general tone and expression amply 
 repelled the charge of effeminacy — intellect 
 was stamped on the spacious brow, and a 
 daring spirit was revealed in the quick 
 flash of his bright blue eye; his bright hair 
 clustered in short, thick curls round his 
 well-shaped head, and his scarcely developed 
 figure promised to be a model of manly 
 grace. 
 
 This was not a face and form to scare 
 the color from a lady's cheek, yet such was 
 the effect they produced on Margaret of 
 Burgundy. She was about to make an 
 effort to speak when a side wicket was 
 thrown open by an attendant apparently 
 stationed there for the purpose, and the 
 ladies both instantly hurried into the Hotel 
 
 Having effectually removed their disguise, 
 they entered the saloon, which by the con-
 
 42 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 nivance of their hostess they had quitted 
 an hour before, to indulge in a superstitious 
 curiosity not uncommon in that unen- 
 lightened age. 
 
 At an early hour the Duchess returned 
 to the Priory, and when she parted for the 
 night from her companion, the Lady Kathe- 
 rine Gordon, Margaret kissed her cheek and 
 whispered, 
 
 " Said not the fates that you should 
 wed him whose hand first encountered 
 yours?" 
 
 " Indeed, dear madam, I paid no heed to 
 such folly," replied Katherine, with a some- 
 what haughty toss of her graceful head as 
 she retired to her chamber. 
 
 The Duchess did not seek her couch, but 
 repaired to the room we have described, and 
 dismissing her attendants, desired that 
 Father Hubert should be summoned to lier 
 presence. 
 
 " Until my mind is fixed, I cannot close 
 these eyes in sleep,'^ she n:iurmured as she
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 paced the apartment with a troubled 
 step. 
 
 The priest entered with his usual air of 
 dignified composure. Margaret hurried 
 towards him, and laid one hand upon his 
 arm. 
 
 " Say, can the sheeted dead return to 
 earth and wear the aspect of their youth? 
 Or feel my pulse, and say if reason has 
 abandoned her seat, and made me the sport 
 of fancy ! for this night I aver 1 have seen 
 the living likeness of my brother Edward — 
 not as at the time of his death, but when he 
 first girded on his virgin sword. Was 
 this an apparition, or a delusion of the 
 brain?" 
 
 Tliis address, poured forth with all the 
 violence of her excited feelings was listened 
 to by Father Hubert with unfeigned aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " Did yon meet this vision," he enquired 
 " within the walls of the Priory, or in 
 the reception-room of the French Coun- 
 tess?"
 
 44 THE armoui.er's daughter. 
 
 The Duchess evaded the question. 
 
 " His garb," she continued, " was that of 
 a peasant; but in his demeanour he might 
 have represented a prince." 
 
 The confessor started, and a sudden 
 gleam of satisfaction relaxed the muscles of 
 his mouth. He led his companion to a 
 seat where the light fell full upon her agi- 
 tated countenance. 
 
 '' Lady," said he, '' your senses have not 
 misled you : the youth you have seen is an 
 artisan in the service of the armourer 
 of this town — his name is Perkin War- 
 beck." 
 
 *' Ha ! I remember me now — 'twas so he 
 called himself." 
 
 *' He is a foundling. I have seen and 
 talked to him many times, and have been 
 much struck with his miraculous resem- 
 blance to the royal Edward. If this same 
 apprentice were to land on the broad shores 
 of merry England, it would be difficult to 
 persuade your countrymen that he was not
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 45 
 
 one of the joung princes escaped from bloody 
 Richard's murderous hand." 
 
 " Has he no one connected with him by- 
 ties of blood?" asked Margaret; and as she 
 spoke, the words of the astrologer seemed once 
 more to ring in her ears, and her thirst for 
 revenge and insatiable love of intrigue com- 
 bined to lessen her repugnance to the prac- 
 tice of any fraud which might lead to their 
 gratification. 
 
 '' He does not even know the land of his 
 birth," answered the priest. " He is a youth 
 of quick parts and general aptitude. He 
 would be a fit instrument, and I doubt not, 
 a willing one in any project policy might 
 dictate. Nature has lavished gifts upon 
 him far beyond the station in which chance 
 has placed him. Would it not seem so, 
 Madam?" 
 
 There was no reply ; the Duchess trem- 
 bled perceptibly, and the clasped hands were 
 pressed still more tightly together. The 
 confessor strode to the window — flung aside 
 the heavy curtains and stepped forth upon
 
 46 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 the stone terrace. He approached a white 
 rose-tree, which, under careful tendance, 
 had grown into a luxuriant plant, and ga- 
 thered a half-blown bud, he then i^turned 
 to his companion and silently laid the blos- 
 som before her — the right chord was touched 
 — she pressed it to her lips and to her 
 heart — in these peaceful days, it would be 
 difficult to conceive the feeling of passion- 
 ate veneration with which Margaret re- 
 garded this badge of her family dig- 
 nity. 
 
 " Consider,'^ urged Father Hubert, in a 
 low, rapid manner; "how singularl)' fate 
 has favoured your wishes. Present to the 
 world this youth as your nephew. Prince 
 Richard, and my life on the issue! The 
 partisans of York will rise as one man — ■ 
 Scotland's king will seek an alliance — 
 France will offer no opposition — there will 
 be every thing to hope, and little to 
 fear!" 
 
 " Fear !" echoed Margaret, in an energe- 
 tic tone, from which all doubt and irresolu-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 47 
 
 tion had vanished. " Fear ! I cast it to the 
 winds ! When was a daughter of the House 
 of York known to feel it? Henceforth, I 
 vow myself to this enterprise ; and no weak 
 scruples shall check my course until my 
 hereditary foe shall be crushed at my feet, 
 or until I myself become a bye-word among 
 nations as a perjured deceiver !'' 
 
 How this resolution was kept will be seen 
 hereafter.
 
 48 THE ahmourer's daughtee. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 Oh 1 what a tangled web we weave, 
 When first we venture to deceive. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 About a mile from the town of Saint Evert, 
 was a spot justly celebrated for its great 
 natural beauty ; and while its claims to at- 
 traction were extolled by the admirers of 
 the picturesque, the lovers of solitude were 
 compelled to own that nature could possess
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 no haunt more remote from the busy hum of 
 men, than this lovely sylvan retreat. In the 
 background rose a gently sloping hill cover- 
 ed with verdure, which did not admit of any 
 thing being seen beyond itself and the distant 
 heavens ; where the ground became level 
 stood a group of noble forest trees, extend- 
 ing their giant arms round a fairy ring, in 
 the centre of which, some former seigneur 
 had erected a fountain that had now, how- 
 ever, fallen into ruins — it was as though art 
 had broken her wand in the presence of a 
 mightier magician. In the foreground, 
 stretched a boundless vista of hill and dale, 
 with patches of woodland scenery ; and wind- 
 ing through the whole, ran a limpid stream 
 scarce wider than a brook, gleaming in the 
 sunshine like a thread of silver, and giv- 
 ing a new charm to the varying land- 
 scape. 
 
 It was past the hour of noon, and the 
 sun's rays had lost little of their summer fer- 
 vour — on the greensward, protected by the 
 
 VOL. I. i>
 
 50 THE armourer's DAUGHTER, 
 
 grateful shade of the encircling trees, re- 
 clined a youthful figure in an attitude which 
 spoke rather of thought than slumber. It 
 was Perkin Warbeck the armourer's ap- 
 prentice. He had been there since the 
 early morning; and, although the hours 
 glided by, and he was conscious that his 
 employer's displeasure would be aroused by 
 his playing the truant ; there he still lay 
 absorbed in a reverie which seemed to have 
 suspended all power of action. He reviewed 
 the vicissitudes of his short career ; his 
 thoughts flew back to his early childhood 
 which had never known a parent's fostering 
 care — with what eagerness he yearned to 
 penetrate the mystery of his birth — then 
 rushed through his fmind a host of wild 
 ambitious hopes, blended with the con- 
 sciousness that, if it could be proved he 
 came of noble lineage, he should not dis- 
 grace the stock from which he sprang — 
 how faithfully he would draw his sword in 
 his country's cause — how devotedly would
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 51 
 
 he adore some bright-eyed dame — lovely, 
 perchance, as the vision that had twice 
 crossed his path in company with the 
 Duchess — and thus the boy dreamed on 
 until his eye fell accidentally on his coarse 
 garments, and then he smiled half in bit- 
 terness at his own folly. A sullen discon- 
 tent seemed to have taken possession of his 
 soul, and he yielded passively to its influ- 
 ence as he inveighed against the injustice 
 of fortune, and half-formed a resolution to 
 leave his present service and seek advance- 
 ment elsewhere. 
 
 His meditations had just reached this 
 point when a slight sound warned him that 
 his solitude was about to be invaded; he 
 looked up and recognised the well-known 
 figure of Father Hubert. The priest did 
 not appear to note his vicinity, but stood 
 wrapped in contemplation, surveying the 
 distant scenery. An idea flashed across 
 the mind of Warbeck — why should he not 
 reveal his wish of obtaining other employ- 
 D 3
 
 52 THE armourer's daughter, 
 
 merit, and ask counsel of one who had al- 
 ready shown a friendly interest in him, and 
 had, latterly, held frequent discourse with 
 him — perhaps, the shrewd reader may guess 
 that to these conversations with the court 
 confessor, may be attributed the present 
 unsettled and discontented mood of the 
 young artisan. He rose slowly from his 
 recumbent position and advanced towards 
 Father Hubert. 
 
 *' A fair morn to you, my son," said the 
 priest, slightly returning his salutation. 
 " This is a favorite spot of mine ; and yet, 
 while I court its solitudes, I marvel that it 
 should hold out any attraction to the gayer 
 spirits of youth." 
 
 " 1 sought this retreat, good father," an- 
 swered Perkin, " because I would not weary 
 others by my churlishness of mood.'' 
 
 The priest fixed his cold, searching eye 
 on the juuthful countenance before bim, 
 and read its despondent expression 
 aright.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 53 
 
 *^ Your face is sad, my son — has any evil 
 chanced to you? Speak out your grief, I 
 love the young; and, if you need a coun- 
 sellor, my experience may aid you." 
 
 As he spoke he turned into the thick 
 clump of trees and seated himself on the 
 green turf, making a gesture to his com- 
 panion to place himself by his side. Per-- 
 kin Warbeck did not obey this movement 
 and withdrew a few paces, carelessly lean- 
 ing his slight form against the trunk of a 
 mighty chesnut. 
 
 " Have you angered the good armourer 
 by some idle frolic ?" inquired the confessor, 
 *'if so I pledge myself to see him and re- 
 instate you in his favor." 
 
 " On this score I shall not need your 
 kind offices, good father,'' said the appren- 
 tice. " But I weary of the life I lead, this 
 continual servitude frets me; and, if such 
 luck could be mine, 1 would gladly enrol 
 myself in the train of some stirring lord, 
 where zeal might be rewarded by quick pro- 
 motion — should your interest enable me to 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 iiN'VERSITY OF HUNOfS
 
 54 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 do this, a poor lad's thanks will be grate- 
 fully paid/' 
 
 '* Have you any knowledge of the pur- 
 suits most esteemed in such a ser- 
 vice?" 
 
 ' ' I can rein a horse — fly a hawk — tune 
 a lute — polish armour, and wield a sword 
 indifferently well." 
 
 " Ha! the matter then might be brought 
 about — but stay, there exists one insuper- 
 able obstacle — your birth." 
 
 The youth bit his lip, and the colour 
 mounted to his cheek, but he made no re- 
 ply. 
 
 " Recollect my young friend," continued 
 Father Hubert, " that in the households of 
 every noble of repute, the pages and es- 
 quires are of honorable descent — and how 
 will it beseem them to have for their mate 
 one on whose origin there rests so dark a 
 mystery? Believe me, I would not, wil- 
 lingly, wound you— but think you, they 
 will admit the foundling to their compa-
 
 THE ARMOUREli'S DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 nionship? And then the implied taunt — 
 the open gibe — '' 
 
 '"Never!" interrupted Perkin Warbeck, 
 fiercely springing, with one bound, into the 
 open space in front of the priest. " The 
 tongue that uttered the foul jest should 
 rather be rent out by the roots. In what 
 do I differ from the children of the high- 
 born, that we should be regarded as sepa- 
 rate clay? Are they more lithe in limb — 
 more stout in heart? My blood is red as 
 theirs, and shall be poured out like water 
 ere I take a wrong. Why was I born? 
 What am I ? A blot on this fair crreation I 
 a worm doomed to creep and crawl ! To 
 whom the hope of rising is forbidden? 
 A loathsome object that must be kept from 
 the presence of the noble of the land, lest 
 the sight should blast them. Would that 
 the earth could open and take back the 
 nameless outcast." 
 
 And the apprentice flung himself on 
 the ground, rocking his body to and fro, 
 as if the movement lashed him to a higher
 
 56 THE arbiourer's daughter. 
 
 pitch of fury. These words fell from his 
 pale lips with a vehemence and impetuosity 
 which nearly paralysed the priest — he had 
 expected that his own speech should irri- 
 tate; such had been its object, but versed 
 as he was in the human character — he was 
 quite unprepared for the uncurbed violence 
 of feeling now displayed by the usually 
 submissive boy. After allowing sufficient 
 time for the paroxysm to subside, the confes- 
 sor spoke in kindly accents. 
 
 " I knew not that you felt so keenly the 
 injustice of your fate. Were such a thing 
 possible, what would you do or risk to 
 change it?" 
 
 " Do !" repeated the apprentice, " there 
 is nothing you could name I would not do. 
 Risk ! I would hazard all, except my soul's 
 weal, for the chance of a fair start in the 
 conflict of life, with the offspring of the 
 great and powerful.'' 
 
 Again the priest paused ; he felt he was 
 about to tread on dangerous ground, to 
 broach a subject which he had resolved to
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 defer until a further acquaintance had re- 
 vealed to him the secret springs by which 
 the mind of his young companion could be 
 actuated — yet the present opportunity of- 
 fered an advantage which might never be 
 recovered; and with a sudden decision he 
 determined to avail himself of the youth's 
 excited state of feeling to mould him to his 
 wishes. 
 
 "Perkin \Yarbeck," said the confessor, 
 after a silence of some duration, " shake 
 off this unmanly grief -come hither — closer 
 still — bend down your ear — I have that to 
 impart which the winds must not whisper 
 again." 
 
 Attracted by the gravity of this appeal, 
 the youth half sullenly obeyed. 
 
 " Yon seem to repine at your obscure 
 destiny, learn that it is in my power to 
 snatch you thence and place you on a pin- 
 nacle far abnve your wildest hopes." 
 
 "Know you aught of my parents?'' ex- 
 claimed Warbeck, throwing himself on his 
 knees before Father Hubert, and fixing his
 
 68 THE armouiaEr's daughter. 
 
 flashing eyes with imploring earnestness 
 on the impassable countenance of the 
 other. 
 
 " I said not so," answered the priest, 
 coldly, " I spoke of raising you to a station 
 of which your young ambition could not 
 even have dreamed." 
 
 " You said the means were yours, but not 
 the will,'' returned the youth, doubtingly, 
 the glow of animation fading from his 
 brow. 
 
 " Neither shall be wanting. Would you 
 attain this eminence ?" 
 
 '' Shall it be one where brave men will 
 not keep themselves aloof from contact with 
 me, and where it v^^ould not be held pre- 
 sumption — " here he broke off abruptly and 
 a faint blush dyed his cheek, as reverence for 
 his companion's calling forbade him to com- 
 plete the sentence. 
 
 " You were about to add," said the 
 priest, with a slight smile; "that you 
 would fain raise an eye to a maiden 
 of high estate, without the certainty of a
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 cudgel for your boldness. This, too, I can 
 promise. There shall not be a lovely dame 
 in Burgundy who would deny your suit. 
 Why say I of Burgundy? In every coun- 
 try of Europe the proudest beauty shall 
 esteem herself honoured by your wooing! 
 I speak not of a solid burgher's well dower- 
 ^d daughter, but of rank equal to that of 
 the Duchess's guest — the Lady Katherine 
 Gordon—" 
 
 " Give me the chance of winning a smile 
 from her- — though it be years hence — and 
 I will be the willing slave of your will for 
 life." 
 
 *' If peril were to be encountered?" 
 
 '' I would brave it gratefully if it pointed 
 the way to her." 
 
 " Will you swear in all things to entrust 
 yourself to my guidance?" 
 
 " Nay,'" replied Warbeck, " I am no child 
 to be led hoodwinked in a matter of such 
 deep moment; I will take no jump in the 
 dark- but show me the chasm, and though
 
 60 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 the grave yawned beneath a bold leap shall 
 clear it." 
 
 The confessor fixed his eyes upon the 
 ground in silent thought. 
 
 " Listen," said he, laying his hand upon 
 his companion's shoulder. " I will give you 
 a short outline of the scheme to be carried 
 out — more than this, I cannot and will not 
 do, until you have registered a vow to be- 
 come its chief agent. A noble family lacks 
 an heir — the child of their proudest hopes 
 has been torn from them in infancy by 
 fraud and violence — a grasping kinsman 
 has stepped into the inheritance; he rules 
 with a rod of iron, and oppresses, with base 
 malevolence, every friend of the former 
 line, to whom, in years gone by, he has 
 done deadly wrong; a rumour is abroad 
 that the long lost son is found, and is about 
 to return to claim his own again — this is 
 the character I propose you shall personate 
 — every avenue to detection has been care- 
 fully guarded against. You start and shake
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 61 
 
 your head. Recollect, my young friend, 
 how small the amount of evil, how large the 
 balance of good — an injustice to one — a 
 priceless benefit to numbers ! Why do you 
 turn away? The culpability of the decep- 
 tion may find ample atonement in the 
 noble use you can make of your good for- 
 tune, and many shall live to bless your ge- 
 nerous sway. Your election must now be 
 made. Remain as you are, and forget what 
 you have heard, or accept honour, power, 
 splendour, and the choice of a bride among 
 the noblest and fairest — ay ! even the Lady 
 Katherine Gordon. 1 leave you now — an 
 hour hence I will return, and your own lips 
 must then decide your fate.'' 
 
 The priest rose as he spoke, and shrouded 
 in his dark mantle, strode through the 
 thicket of trees and quickly disappeared 
 from view. 
 
 Perkin Warbeck gave one hurried glance 
 around to assure himself he was alone, and 
 then burying his face in his hands, sank 
 down on the grrss, while a perfect tempest
 
 62 THE ARMOURfiR's DAUGHTER. 
 
 of emotion convulsed his frame. His young 
 heart had yearned to be descended from a 
 long race of noble forefathers — but the 
 pride was for himself as much as for others; 
 he had thought to win, with gallant deeds, 
 a place of renown, not to steal with per- 
 jured speech into the seat of another. He 
 could not do it No! he would fly the 
 tempter, and strive, and wait, and struggle, 
 to carve out a road to fortune — then again, 
 the chilling words with which the priest 
 had answered his petition, crossed his mind 
 — and his own judgment acknowledged the 
 justice of the reasoning — the prejudices of 
 the age forebade him to mingle in fellow- 
 ship with those who could boast of time- 
 honored ancestors — he had felt something 
 of this in his earlier youth, and knew his 
 nature could ill endure the looks askant, or 
 even the tone of secret pity. Must he then 
 abide for ever in his present sphere, and 
 drag on the burden of life in one ceaseless 
 round of thankless toil ? Xever more could he 
 regard, without repining, his lowly lot;
 
 63 
 
 other wishes had been excited in his breast, 
 he might not yield to them — but they could 
 not be expelled. What was the alternative? 
 There was another side to the picture, and he 
 resolved to indulge his fancy with a moment- 
 ary glimpse of all that might be his if he ac- 
 ceded to the overtures of Father Hubert — 
 the pride of power — the possession of means 
 to ennoble the name he should be called 
 upon to bear — the homage of grateful hearts 
 — the luxuries of pleasure — the fulfilment 
 of more than his young ambition had ever 
 hoped or dreamed — the splendour of opu- 
 lence — the princely home — and here there 
 flitted across the scene a fairy vision — a 
 form of light, and grace*, and beauty, dou- 
 bling his enjoyment by sharing it. There 
 was rapture in the contemplation of such 
 a prospect, and the youth started up with 
 glowing cheek, and paced the grassy plat- 
 form ; the blood coursing through his veins 
 like fire, while he reviewed and brought 
 into the field every argument that could 
 make sin seem less heinous, and throw around
 
 64 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 it the false cloak of expediency. One act 
 of guilt, and then the tenor of his after life 
 should be of such lofty virtue — -such ex- 
 alted rectitude, that the sternest judge must 
 deem the atonement sufficient. One error ! 
 tears of gratitude from happy dependents 
 should blot it from the recording book, and 
 a thousand daily blessings wring his pardon 
 from offended Heaven. Mistaken and inex- 
 perienced reasoner ! Who can say when he 
 quits the path of right, how far his errant 
 steps shall stray? One subterfuge may 
 lead to a labyrinth of falsehood, while the 
 thoughtless adventurer discovers, too late, 
 that the clue has escaped from his 
 hand. 
 
 The distant abbey bell announced that 
 another hour was numbered with the annals 
 of the past. The youth thought for an 
 instant of a return to the workshop — his 
 rough comrades, the drudgery of labor, and 
 the rebuke which his causeless absence must 
 call down upon him. He flung from his
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 head the artisan's coarse cap, and set his 
 foot upon it. 
 
 " Come weal or woe/' said he half 
 aloud, " my choice is made ! Henceforth I 
 herd no more with the base and low-born. 
 If there be wrong in my career, let the shame 
 rest with those who threw me on the 
 world without even the inheritance of a 
 name !" 
 
 Presently the tall figure of Father Hu- 
 bert was seen approaching the spot where 
 he had left his young companion. Warbeck 
 slowly advanced towards him; his face was 
 deadly pale, but wore an air of stern com- 
 posure ; there was no sign of vaccillation in 
 the resolute eye as it met that of the priest, 
 while he clasped the hand extended to him. 
 The gesture was understood. Not a word 
 more was exchanged upon the subject. 
 The youth asked not of the station he was 
 destined to fill, nor of the degree of peril he 
 might be summoned to encounter; he had 
 resolved to venture everything on the issue 
 of the proposed enterprise, whatever it
 
 66 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 mio^ht be, and his mind rather seemed to 
 recoil from a description of its details. 
 
 " When shall we meet again ?" he en- 
 quired in a subdued tone. 
 
 *' Nay, my son," answered the confessor, 
 " we part not now ; I have further matter 
 for your ear. To-night you shall sleep at 
 the Priory. I will myself see Nicholas 
 Hatherton and tell him he must suit himself 
 with another apprentice, as the Church has 
 need of your service." 
 
 " There is one," said Warbeck musingly, 
 " to whom I would fain send some trifling 
 token of remembrance — the armourer's 
 daughter." 
 
 " It shall be done, my son," said Father 
 Hubert. " Now let us push onwards." 
 
 And so, side by side, the new-made 
 confederates pursued their way to the 
 town.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE TOKEN. 
 
 'Tis strange to think if we could fling aside 
 The masque and mantle that love wears from pride, 
 How much would be, we now so little guess, 
 Deep in each heart's undreamed, unsought recess. 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 The sun had just disappeared from the 
 gorgeous west, and the labours of the me- 
 chanic were about to close for the day, when 
 Viola Hatherton stole to the threshold of 
 her father's door, and gazed timidly down
 
 68 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 the quiet street. The armourer was much 
 chafed at the unjustifiable absence of his 
 favorite apprentice, who had not been seen 
 since early morning, and threatened to 
 manifest his dissatisfaction in no measured 
 terms. Knowing the impetuosity of War- 
 beck's character, the maiden was anxious to 
 be the first to meet him, and entreat that 
 he would not venture an excuse until his 
 employer's displeasure had passed away. 
 
 Weary at last with her vain watch, she 
 retreated to a small room on the ground 
 floor, chiefly appropriated to her use, where 
 the irritated accents of her father's angry 
 voice only occasionally reached her ear. 
 
 Meantime father Hubert had not forgot- 
 ten his engagement, and was even then 
 pursuing his course to the abode of the 
 armourer. As he sped on with downcast 
 eyes and gliding step, a wayfarer, whose 
 threadbare garments denoted that he be- 
 longed to the lower orders, accosted him in 
 a foreign tongue, and asked him, for charity, 
 to point out the road to the residence of
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 69 
 
 one Nicholas Hatherton. The priest looked 
 searchingly at the low, mean features of the 
 enquirer, and demanded if his business were 
 of an important nature. The man replied 
 that it was of interest only to himself, but 
 he had travelled some hundreds of miles to 
 attain his object, and as he could not make 
 himself understood, he feared he should 
 have some difficulty in finding the person 
 he sought. 
 
 " I grieve to say," answered the confes- 
 sor, " that your quest here is fruitless. 
 The individual you seek left Saint Evert 
 some months ago, and went no one knows 
 whither." 
 
 With a heavy sigh and look of heavy 
 disappointment the stranger turned away, 
 and the priest walked onwards. 
 
 It would be difficult to analyze the feel- 
 ings which caused Father Hubert thus to 
 mislead the traveller; it might be an un- 
 defined wish that none should follow in his 
 own track, or a sudden presentiment, or one 
 of those impulses which to ourselves seems
 
 70 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 afterwards unaccountable. Having arrived 
 at Hatherton's dwelling, he passed through 
 the half-open door, and was about to pro- 
 ceed to the distant workshop, when the 
 graceful figure of Yiola, seated in the oppo- 
 site apartment, caught his eye, and imme- 
 diatelv stepping forward he found himself 
 in the presence of the armourer^s daughter. 
 He had been accustomed to the view of the 
 rarest beauties of the court, and esteemed 
 himself no mean judge of their comparative 
 merits, but yet he could not help acknow- 
 ledging there was a charm of no ordinary 
 nature in the fair young face before him. 
 
 Somewhat startled at the appearance of 
 such an unexpected guest, she rose hastily, 
 and timidly advancing to bid him welcome, 
 offered to seek her parent. 
 
 "Not so, fair maiden," replied the priest. 
 " Presently I will myself go in search of 
 the worthy Nicholas ; I would now speak a 
 few words with you." 
 
 Viola assumed an attitude of the most 
 reverential attention, naturally expecting
 
 THE armourer's DAUGE'HLR. 71 
 
 that she was about to receive from him 
 some ghostly counsel ; but his next question 
 sent the blood to her heart with a fearful 
 rapidity, although she contrived to master 
 every outward semblance of emotion. 
 
 " Your father had an apprentice, by 
 name Perkin Warbeck?" said the confessor 
 interrogatively. 
 
 *' Nay, good father, T cannot guess why 
 you should say he had been in our service. 
 I believe him still to be so, and if you 
 know otherwise, I pray you tell me." 
 
 " This Warbeck then stands high in your 
 regard?" said Father Hubert, looking 
 keenly at her as he spoke. 
 
 The young girl instinctively felt that 
 her Interrogator was endeavouring to draw 
 aside the veil from her bosom's secrets, and 
 calmly raising her dark eyes, she answered 
 with some spirit, 
 
 '' The youth who has sat so long at our 
 board can scarce be an object of indifference 
 to me. If you can explain his disappear-
 
 72 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 ance, my father will thank you, as he has 
 been somewhat angered at his absence." 
 
 " Therefore have I come," said the priest; 
 " I have undertaken to inform his employer 
 that the church has need of him — not to 
 serve her with robe and cowl, but as an 
 active partisan in temporal matters. His 
 dutj accords with his inclination — through 
 me he sends greeting and thanks for past 
 favors to his former master, who shall be 
 well repaid for the loss of his servitor." 
 
 " It will always please us to hear of his 
 welfare and preferment," said Viola steadily, 
 her low Voice did not falter ; but although 
 Father Hubert endeavoured to catch a view 
 of her countenance, he was defeated in his 
 purpose, for she turned at the moment to 
 close the casement, through which the even- 
 ing air blew rather chilly. 
 
 The confessor then drew from the folds 
 of his robe, a small gold chain of curious 
 workmanship, to which was attached a ruby 
 cross. Viola recognized it instantly, she
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 73 
 
 had often seen it in the possession of Per- 
 kin Warbeck, and once he had told her it 
 was the only link by which he hoped to 
 clear up the secret of his birth. When 
 the youth consented to assume the feigned 
 character which was to obtain for him 
 the dignity and state he could not other- 
 wise aspire to, he resolved to send to the 
 armourer's daughter, as a token of recollec- 
 tion, the relic which formerly he would have 
 guarded with his life, but which he now 
 felt it would be mockery to keep. Accor- 
 dingly he had confided the trinket to 
 the confessor^s charge, without remarking 
 on the peculiar circumstances connected 
 with it. 
 
 ''Master Warbeck/'. continued Father 
 Hubert, '' was much grieved to part so un- 
 ceremoniously from one to whom he owed 
 such a large debt of kindness, and bade 
 me bring you this token of his grateful re- 
 gard, and repeat his hop^s that you would 
 keep him a place in your remembrance, al- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE armourer's daughtee. 
 
 though it may chance that you never meet 
 again/' 
 
 Viola mechanically grasped the ruby 
 cross, and demanded: 
 
 " Has he then left Saint Evert?'' 
 
 " His business did not admit of delay," 
 answered the confessor evasively. '' But 
 night draws on apace, and I must, not tarry. 
 I have yet to hold a short conference with 
 my old friend Nicholas — ^farewell, gentle 
 maiden, and Heaven's benison rest with 
 you/' 
 
 *' Good even, holy sir — will it please you 
 that I summon my father?" 
 
 The priest declined her offer, and passed 
 from tlie apartment. 
 
 Viola sprang to the door, fastened it 
 securely, and sinking into a chair, sobbed 
 as if her young heart would break, while 
 the tears trickled like rain through her 
 slender fiugers. 
 
 " T marked her narrowly," muttered Fa- 
 ther Hubert, as he wended his way to the
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 75 
 
 workshop. " She takes no dearer interest 
 in the boy than their late companionship 
 would render natural. This is well. There 
 must be no looking backward in the path 
 I destine him to tread. I must teach him 
 to fix every thought upon the goal ; what 
 will await him when he reaches it? the axe 
 or a throne." 
 
 E 3
 
 76 THE ARMOUIiER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTEK VI 
 
 THE BETROTHED, 
 
 One whom nature only meant 
 To be queen of the tournament- 
 Courtly fete and lighted hall, 
 Grace and ornament of all ! 
 
 L. E. L 
 
 We must now assume an author's privilege, 
 and gliding over a space of nearly two 
 years, transport our readers to a princely 
 dwelling in the Scottish capital. A low, 
 regular pile of buildings surrounded a vast
 
 THE aemjurer's daughter. 77 
 
 court, at either extremity of which rose a lofty 
 octagonal tower, containing the state cham- 
 bers, and other reception-rooms. The ar- 
 morial bearings of the Earl of Huntly, were 
 emblazoned above the principal entrance. 
 This nobleman, nearly allied to royalty, and 
 possessed of unbounded influence among 
 his dependents, had been engaged for some 
 weeks in quelling a disturbance in the 
 north, and had now despatched a noble 
 gentleman of his train to announce his 
 speedy return to his daughter, the Lady 
 Katherine Gordon. Sir Eonald Graham, 
 followed by two attendants, rode into the 
 court, and springing from his steed, threw 
 the rein to the serving men, while he nod= 
 ded hurriedly to a group of young knights 
 and well-born idlers, who in those days 
 were accustomed to attach themselves to 
 the almost regal establishments of the chief 
 nobility. 
 
 " What news from the camp?" cried one 
 of the foremostj advancing to greet the 
 new comer. •
 
 78 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 " I may not tarry," replied Sir Ronald. 
 '' The Earl is on my heels for I have been 
 delayed on the road. 1 will fulfil my mis- 
 sion, and then return to crush a cup with 
 you, and exchange our tidings." 
 
 "I will wager a gold piece to a silver 
 groat," said the first speaker, " that we of 
 the court will give you news for which you 
 will not be able to pay back a fair equiva- 
 lent.'^ 
 
 " We shall see, we shall see," answered 
 the young cavalier as he ascended the broad 
 flight of steps, and entered the spacious 
 hall. At one end was a range of lofty 
 windows fitted up with stained glass, 
 and the other sides formed an arcade whose 
 arches corresponding with the windows, 
 preserved an agreeable uniformity. Passing 
 to a large ante-chamber filled with pages, 
 he bade one of them inform the Lady Gor- 
 don that a messenger from tlie Earl of 
 Huntly craved an audience. He then pro- 
 ceeded to arrange his attire to as much ad-
 
 THE AT^MOU ER'S DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 vantage as the circumstances would per- 
 mit. 
 
 In a small withdrawing-room. sat the beau- 
 tiful Lady Gordon; one soft, white hand 
 held an open letter, while its fellow pressed 
 her flushed cheek. Before her lay a velvet 
 miniature case, evidently just received, for 
 it was still unopened. To obtain an insight 
 into the thoughts and emotions reigning in 
 that fair bosom, a short retrospect will be 
 necessary. 
 
 James IV. of Stotland had long nourished 
 a secret feeling of animosity against the 
 English monarch, and was only solicitous 
 to find some justifiable cause for a 
 renewal of hostilities between the coun- 
 tries. Where the will is strongly bent 
 on any object, it soon creates for itself op- 
 portunity. A new claimant to the British 
 crown had just arisen in the person of a 
 youth who proclaimed himself to be Kichard 
 of York, the youngest of the two princes 
 generally supposed to have been smothered 
 in the Tower. His age, his striking re-
 
 80 THE ARMOUKER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 semblance to Edward lY., and his knowledge 
 of many minute flimily details — all con- 
 firmed his tale. With apparent difficulty 
 he had been introduced at the court of the 
 Duchess of Burgundy, and after a public 
 hearing and strict investigation of his pre- 
 tensions, she had acknowledged and era- 
 braced him as her nephew. Many were 
 the adherents of York who crossed the 
 Channel to pay their homage to the young 
 adventurer. The Scottish King openly 
 avowed a belief in his identity, and imme- 
 diately entered into negotiations with him ; 
 and in order to draw still closer their alli- 
 ance, consented to bestow on him in mar- 
 riage the hand of his kinswoman, the Earl 
 of Huntly's daughter. When the prelimi- 
 naries were arranged, the Lady Gordon was 
 made acquainted with the alliance destined 
 for her by the king's gracious pleasure, 
 confirmed as it was by her father's joyful 
 sanction. 
 
 Our fair readers may naturally enquire 
 in what spirit this arbitrary mandate was
 
 THE ARMODREHS DAUGHTER. 81 
 
 received — perhaps a few sighs were breathed 
 over the demolition of imaginary hopes, 
 but although our heroine was endowed with 
 the waroi sensibilities inherent in the high- 
 minded of her sex, she had been taught to 
 consider her hand at the disposal of her 
 sovereign, and most probably to be con- 
 ferred as the price of some national benefit, 
 or the means of conciliating some foreign 
 power. 
 
 On that very morning the intelligence of 
 her betrothal had been bruited about the 
 good city of Edinburgh, and she had just 
 received a despatch in the King's own 
 handwriting, and accompanied by a pic- 
 ture of the young adventurer, whose destiny 
 was so soon to be linked to hers. 
 
 With trembling fingers, gasping breath, 
 and quivering lip she drew the velvet case 
 towards her, pressed a secret spring, and 
 the lid immediately flew open. For some 
 moments everything swam in meaningless 
 confusion beneath her unsteady eye, and 
 then regaining her composure with a 
 E 5
 
 82 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 tnighty effort, she turned her gaze on the 
 portrait before her. A single glance sufficed 
 to show her that the outline of a noble 
 countenance was there — the limner had 
 well done his part- — and she proceeded to 
 dwell on every feature with the minutest 
 attention — the fair hair waved carelessly 
 round the high forehead. 
 
 '' Here," murmured she inwardly, " may 
 be traced the descendent of a hundred kings 
 ■ — the eye, too, promises glorious things, 
 daring, aspiring, yet bright with truth — 
 methinks such an eye might easily school 
 this heart to love— and then the lip, it wears 
 an air of smiling tenderness, and yet I can 
 read on it fiery impatience and unflinching 
 firmness — well ! I could swear to obey that 
 lip — here is indeed the likeness of a man, 
 such as a true-hearted w^oman might re- 
 verence for her lord." 
 
 And then while a rosy blush gradually 
 gathered over face and neck and hands, 
 suffusing all in one universal glow, she 
 bent over the picture, and her coral lips im-
 
 THE AnM^.tJKER's DAUGHrER. S3 
 
 pressed a kiss upon the senseless ivory. 
 Starting up, she now approached the mir- 
 ror, and surveyed her own graceful figure 
 and beautiful features with more solicitude 
 than she had ever before bestowed upon 
 their contemplation — apparently the scru- 
 tiny was satisfactory — and returning to 
 her seat, she relapsed into a train of happy 
 thought. Her reverie was interrupted by the 
 delivery of Sir Ronald Graham's message. 
 His desire of admission to her presence was 
 instantly acceded to. Sir Honald had been 
 left by his dying parent to the guardian- 
 ship of the Earl of Huntly; during the 
 early days of childhood, he was often the 
 playmate of his protectors daughter — as 
 they advanced in years, their opportunities 
 of meeting became naturally less frequent, 
 until latterly her intercourse Vv^ith him was 
 as rare as v^ith any of the other noble gen- 
 t-lemen attached to her father's service. 
 
 Katherine now stepped forward to meet 
 him with the kindly courtesy she invariably 
 evinced towards her former companion*
 
 84 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 The young cavalier, although unable to 
 doff his riding apparel, had somewhat 
 amended its travel-stained appearance, for 
 he had ridden fast and far, and as he re- 
 spectfully saluted the hand the lady gra- 
 ciously extended to him, it might be seen, 
 notwithstanding his disadvantage of dress, 
 that he possessed a tolerably good person, 
 and rather attractive physiognomy. The 
 Earl's packet was duly presented, after 
 which followed some questions about the 
 doings at the camp. 
 
 " There is a rumour," said Lady Gordon, 
 " of a war with England, in which case I 
 shall expect to hear the name of Sir Ronald 
 Graham coupled with gallant deeds and 
 deathless fame.'' 
 
 " Dear lady, the expression of such a 
 wisli from you ensures its fulfilment. To 
 win a word of praise from your tongue, I 
 would fight my way single-handed through 
 a legion of Southerns." 
 
 " Nay !'' responded Katherine, '^ rashness 
 makes no part of a gallant soldier. Take
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 85 
 
 for your model some of the mighty leaders 
 of our own native land, the warlike Elgin, 
 the unconquered Douglas. Seek no un- 
 necessary danger, but let it find you fixed 
 as the rock firm set in the depths of the 
 roaring waves. But I overstep the boun- 
 dary of discretion in schooling you thus. 
 'Tis an old habit with me, and 1 cannot 
 shake it ofi*. Do you remember how gravely 
 I chid you some ten years ago, when you 
 were nearly drowned crossing the Lawrie's 
 Ford to bring me some water-lilies, for 
 which I had expressed my childish wish?" 
 
 ^' Lady Gordon, such recollections are the 
 dearest portion of my inheritance." 
 
 A gay answer from Katherine changed 
 the theme — and after a few enquiries about 
 absent friends, the interview closed. 
 
 With a buoyant step and bounding heart. 
 Sir Ronald quitted the withdrawing-room 
 where he had found so gracious a reception. 
 He paused at the window, terminating the 
 long corridor and looked forth. How brightly
 
 86 TH£ AKMOUREK^S DAtTGnT£ft» 
 
 the sun shone on the animated scene below! 
 he lingered for a few moments to watch its 
 yellow lustre gilding the tree tops, and 
 burnishing the aruiS of the stalwart senti- 
 nel. Loud shouts of merriment from the 
 entraiice-hall broke his fit of inusing, and 
 hurrying forward, he was soon surrounded 
 by his friends and companions. Various 
 were the queries made and answered* 
 
 " When does the good Earl come back?" 
 
 '' The morrow^s moon will find him here." 
 
 ^' Everything is then peaceful in the 
 North ?'^ 
 
 ^' As a convent of nuns.'^ 
 
 '• Ylu have just seen the Earl's daughter/' 
 cried another. ^' What said she? how 
 looked vshe?" 
 
 '' Truly, Lord Hamilton,^' replied Sir l\o- 
 nald stifiiy, ^' I have had the honor of an 
 audience with the Lady Katherine Gordon, 
 but I have yet to learn how the recaj)itLila- 
 tion of what passed therein can be of the 
 slightest advantage to yourself." 
 
 *' Heed him not, Hamilton," exclaimed
 
 TH£ ALMOtlREE^S DAUGHTER. 87 
 
 another of the group, '^ he knows not that 
 our curiosity springs lawfully froiii the tid* 
 ings we promised him but now.'^ 
 
 "And what are they?^' demanded the 
 young cavalier eagerly. '^ Compose your 
 laughing brows, my merry men, and divulge 
 quickly. I would gladly share your jest 
 whatever it be." 
 
 A dozen voices were instantly raised in 
 explanation. 
 
 " Of course," said one, '^ you have heard 
 that King James has signed a treaty with 
 this new-found prince of York?" 
 
 The young cavalier nodded his head in 
 assent. 
 
 " Which treaty,^ cried another, '^ the 
 hand of the Earl of Huntly's daughter is 
 to rivet most indissolubly," 
 
 " And soon there will be a march to 
 England,'^ exclaimed a third, " and plenty 
 of hard blows. Graves for some, and 
 honor for all. Feastings occasionally 'and 
 fastings often." 
 
 " Nor will swords be sheathed nor ban-
 
 88 THE ARMuUKER's DACGHTER. 
 
 ners furled," said Lord Hamilton, " until 
 Richard of York wears the English crown, 
 and Lady Gordon, the pride of Scotland, is 
 England's queen." 
 
 Sir Ronald Graham mechanically turned 
 from one speaker to another, as their dif- 
 ferent exclamations reached his ear — a cloud 
 had fallen upon his brow, his cheek was 
 deathly pale, and he seemed far from par- 
 ticipating in the mirthful mood of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 " And now having amply redeemed our 
 word," added the foremost of the throng, 
 " we would fain learn of Sir Ronald how the 
 bride elect bore the prospect of her unex- 
 pected elevation." 
 
 " There was certainly unusual animation 
 in her tone and manner," said Graham 
 slowly, rather answering his own thoughts 
 than the question proposed to him. " III 
 did I guess the cause. A slight flutter of 
 agitation was perceptible in her graceful 
 mien — so slight indeed, it needed a keen 
 eye to mark it."
 
 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 89 
 
 " As though a stone had been hurled 
 into a peaceful lake, and ruffled its fair 
 bosom for the first time," observed a young 
 knight, who, during the Earl's absence, held 
 the post of master of the household. '• But 
 this is no matter to be discussed drj-lipped. 
 Let us in — and taste some of our good 
 lord's last vintage." 
 
 With some difficulty Sir Ronald excused 
 himself on the plea of fatigue, and the obli- 
 gation he was under to execute some busi- 
 ness entrusted to him. Separating himself 
 from the laughing group, he pulled his hat 
 over his brows, and strode forward through 
 the crowded court. 
 
 The sun still shone, but he no longer 
 noted the golden beams — his eyes were turned 
 inwards, and there all was gloom and dark- 
 ness.
 
 90 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTEh YII. 
 
 THE ADVENTURER. 
 
 Do but think 
 How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown '. 
 Within whose circuit i3 Elysium, 
 And all that poets feign of bhss and joy. 
 
 SnAKE.~PEAR2. 
 
 All Edinburgh was a stir; tlie fair city 
 had poured forth its countless tliousands 
 to witness the return of King James to his 
 capital. The youthful monarch was tlien
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 91 
 
 in the zenith of his popularity ; his per- 
 sonal qualities were exactly of a nature to 
 win the affections of his turbulent, though 
 loyal, subjects; and no act of arbitrary 
 power had, hitherto, aroused the suspicions 
 of his jealous vassals — as yet, his sceptre 
 had never been raised to crush the oppres- 
 sor, and his diadem glittered over a smiling 
 brow. 
 
 A volley of artillery deafened the air— 
 the joyous bells rung from every steeple — 
 clarion and trumpet sounded — and then, 
 drowning all these, rose one long continued 
 shout — the single voice of a mighty multi- 
 tude, announcing the approach of the 
 sovereign. Uncovered, and bending his 
 lofty head to the saddle bow, James passed 
 slowly through the assembled crowds ; and 
 at his right hand, rode the young adven- 
 turer, whom, henceforth, we must designate 
 as Richard of York — for thus he named 
 himself, and was addressed by others. Amid 
 the same uproar of acclamation, the royal 
 cavalcade pursued their route to the eastern
 
 92 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 extremity of the town, where stood the 
 palace of Holyrood House. 
 
 There, in the long spacious gallery, were 
 collected, by the king's express orders, the 
 principal ladies of the court; and, pre- 
 eminent among them all, stood the Lady 
 Katherine Gordon — peerless in beauty as 
 first in rank. She was splendidly attired 
 in a robe of rich blue velvet slashed, at in- 
 tervals, with satin of the same colour; the 
 pendant, and half open white sleeves, par- 
 tially exposed to view her finely-moulded 
 arms — so round and soft — so perfect in 
 their swelling outline, that they have often 
 been cited as a model for the statuary. Her 
 heart beat high beneath her jewelled bod- 
 dice — for she had learned that James was 
 to be accompanied by her princely suitor — 
 and, although his picture had grown hourly 
 on her liking, she entertained an anxious 
 fear lest the original should fall below the 
 standard to which her fancy had exalted 
 him. We cannot say that our fiiir Kather- 
 ine— proud even in her gentle loveliness —
 
 THE AR^rOURER'S DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 did not regard her affianced bridegroom 
 \\'ith more ready favor in consequence of 
 his lofty descent. But do not misinterpret 
 her ambition — it was not the prospect of a 
 throne, but the lineage on which his claims 
 thereto were founded, that captivated her 
 imagination. Hers was a graceful pride — 
 never displayed in her bearing to others, 
 and tending rather to elevate her own cha- 
 racter, impelling her to all that was nobk 
 as a just tribute to the race from which she 
 sprang. 
 
 Prejudice had early instilled into her mind, 
 the idea that high birth set its stamp upon 
 a man, entrenching him in a barrier which 
 nothing sordid or base could overleap — '- 
 with this, she marvelled much that ought 
 dishonoring or unworthy could ever be con- 
 nected — without it, she would not have had 
 much faith in the existence of tlie higher 
 class of virtues. 
 
 The distant shouts that accompanied the 
 king's progress reverberated through the
 
 94 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 palace; and when the cavalcade halted at 
 Holy rood House, the reiterated sounds of 
 loyal greeting seemed literally to cleave the 
 roof. Katherine pressed her hand upon her 
 bosom as if to still its tumultuous throb- 
 bings. In a few minutes the doors of the 
 great saloon were thrown open, and the mo- 
 narch entered with the Prince of York on 
 his right hand, and followed by a brilliant 
 train of attendants. Immediately the 
 throng at the upper end of the gallery fell 
 back on each side, forming a circle, in the 
 centre of which, the Lady Gordon was left 
 standing almost alone. King James in- 
 stantly approached her. 
 
 '' Sweet cousin," said he, " I bring you 
 one who has sued long for the light of your 
 presence. I pray you, for my sake and his 
 own merits, give him no cold welcome 
 — but I leave him to advocate his own 
 cause.'' 
 
 The young adventurer advanced with a 
 mien in which the eager air of the lover,
 
 THE armourer's daugeter. 95 
 
 the dignity of the prince, and the manly 
 frankness of the soldier, were happily blend- 
 ed. Bending one knee to the ground, he 
 gently took Katherine's fair, white hand and 
 raised it to his lips. 
 
 '-'• Dear lady,^' said he, in a tone so low 
 that those around could not catch his words; 
 '' Tell me that I have not been over bold 
 in urging my suit — say that I do not owe 
 my fortune to the importunity of friends ; 
 assure me that this dearly valued hand is 
 not reluctantly bestowed, and the measure 
 of ray happiness will be complete.'' 
 
 Wiih a vivid blush Katherine bent for- 
 ward and bade him rise; and as she shook 
 back the countless curls of soft brown hair 
 that fell in clusters down her ivory neck, 
 Richard inwardly acknowledged that he had 
 never beheld any thing half so lovely. The 
 fair maiden too, even in her confusion, had 
 stolen one glance at her affianced lord, and 
 recognised the noble features whose por- 
 traiture had before won her approval — but
 
 96 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 oh ! how wide the difference ! She thought 
 the painter had done but scanty justice to 
 his subject — the radiant eves now sparkled 
 with joyous animation — their language 
 needed no interpreter, although the mouth 
 was likewise engaged in pouring forth 
 a torrent of ardent words and lover's 
 vows. 
 
 The Earl of Huntly, who had ridden 
 forth to meet the king, now advanced to his 
 daughter's side, and drew her arm within 
 his own. Meantime, James passed round 
 the circle, rendering to each one some gra- 
 cious salutation. 
 
 *'I grieve to part so fair a company,'' he re- 
 marked at length, aloud, " but time wears on, 
 and saortiv our council meet. Cousin of 
 York, we pray you take some refreshment; 
 our chamberlain will conduct you to your 
 apartments ! Ha ! Sir Eonald Graham, 
 have you only just entered? What think 
 you of the bonny bridegroom I have brought 
 to our fair kinswoman? Saw you ever a 
 pair so well matched?"
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 97 
 
 Sir Eonald bowed low, but his reply was 
 inaudible; for, at the moment, in obe- 
 dience to the king's implied desire, there 
 was a general movement as the company 
 prepared to quit the gallery. The 
 young adventurer was escorted to the rooms 
 set apart for his use, by several Scottish 
 nobles ; he dismissed them at the threshold 
 with a few words of frank courtesy, and 
 dispensed likewise with the attendance of 
 his suite; signifying, that one alone, who 
 wore the garb of a priest, should re- 
 main. 
 
 Throwing himself into a seat, Richard 
 contined for some time immersed in thought. 
 The long silence was broken by his compa- 
 nion. 
 
 '^ Welcome, my son, to the dominions of 
 our Scottish ally; hitherto, every thing 
 prospers with us, and success smiles upon 
 our efforts.'' 
 
 *' At last, I have seen her again," said 
 Richard, raising his head, evidently not 
 having attended to the other's words ; " at 
 
 VOL I. F
 
 98 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 last — how I have thirsted for this moment 1 
 She is marvellously fair ! surpassing even 
 what memory depicted. I can scarce credit 
 my own happiness ! Say, Father Hubert, 
 is not all this a dream that will pre- 
 sently dissolve, and leave me worse than 
 beggared ?" 
 
 ^ " No, my lord, your prospects are not 
 visionary ; you have placed yourself under 
 my guidance, and I have steered you 
 through a thousand difficulties to this happy 
 haven. I pledged myself that you should 
 win your noble bride — have I kept my 
 faith?" 
 
 The young man grasped his hand 
 warmly in silent acknowledgment of his 
 services. 
 
 " Ay !" continued the priest, " but much 
 remains to be done. Opportunity must not 
 be lost in idle dalliance. He who would 
 earn a crown, must bear the brunt of the 
 conflict. I did not err when I augured there 
 was a spirit in you that would not blench 
 in the hour of danger, and I shall live to
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 99 
 
 see Richard of England swaying, with just 
 and wise hand, the destinies of a loving 
 people/' 
 
 " Mock me not with such high-sounding 
 titles," said the young man smiling faintly. 
 *' From your lips they grate harshly on my 
 ear. We are alone, let it suffice us to wear 
 the mask before others. 
 
 "Not so," replied the priest; "try to 
 think yourself what you seem to he until 
 the character shall grow to your shape like 
 an old habit. Let the past be forgotten. 
 And now, my lord, will it please you to 
 give your attention to these despatches from 
 the South ?" and as he spoke he drew forth 
 a packet of sealed papers. 
 
 While they were plunging into the more 
 minute details of their enterprise. King 
 James had announced, in full council, his 
 alliance with the prince of York, of whose 
 undoubted pretensions to the English crown 
 he felt the clearest conviction ; the betrothal 
 of his kinswoman, Lady Gordon, and the 
 possibility that this might lead to a war 
 "f 2
 
 100 THE ASMOL'KER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 with England, although it was his firm de- 
 termination to allow the first infraction of 
 the treaty to proceed from the other side. 
 
 Among the Scotch nobles, high-spirited 
 and warlike, no movement could be more 
 generally popular than a march across the 
 Borders, and the measure had been fre- 
 quently recurred to by their rulers as a tem- 
 porary diversion from intestine contentions. 
 An unconquerable jealousy was entertained 
 by them towards their Southern neighbours, 
 and there were few of them whose family 
 records could not furnish them with the 
 recollection of some victory they hoped to 
 emulate, or some defeat they burned to 
 obliterate. Warfare was not then considered 
 a national scourge, since the great and power- 
 ful maintained at all times an almost unlimited 
 number of armed retainers, and therefore an 
 incursion into the enemies' territory, with 
 the prospect of booty, was always deemed a 
 welcome means of enriching themselves at 
 the expense of their opponents. 
 
 Such being the state of their feelings,
 
 THE AEMOUREK'S DAUGHTER. 101 
 
 the closing appeal of King James was re- 
 ceived with considerable enthusiasm. 
 
 '' Say, my good lords," he asked in an 
 animated tone, " will it beseem us to desert 
 a brother in distress? A crownless prince 
 has sought our friendly shore — can we deny 
 him an asylum lest England should take of- 
 fence ? My brave friends if we were to advocate 
 so base a course, thank Heaven, there would 
 not be found another man in our dominion 
 of the same mind. What does this hapless 
 Richard seek? His father was a king, and 
 he claims the inheritance bequeathed to 
 him ; well, let him win it with the strong 
 arm — and if a brave Scot should strike a 
 good blow by his side, we will hold him 
 high in honor for the gallant deed; and 
 should the English Lion be roused to show 
 his claws and turn his wrath our way — why 
 then, my loving lords, we must abide his 
 spring/' 
 
 A grim smile on the lips of all around 
 evinced how acceptable was the allusion. 
 
 *' Nevertheless," added the monarch, " we
 
 102 THE AEMOUKIR^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 would pray you not to be over hasty, but 
 to walk coolly and warily in this matter, 
 and while we hold ourselves in readiness 
 against surprise, it must not be forgotten 
 that a peace exists at present between the 
 two countries,. which may not justly be in- 
 fringed." 
 
 The council was dismissed ; but the king^s 
 concluding pacificatory recommendations 
 were far outweighed, in the minds of his 
 hearers, by the more spirited portion of his 
 address, and each noble went his way to 
 count his stout followers and inspect their 
 weapons and other military appointments, 
 considering, that although war might not be 
 overtly declared, they had virtually received 
 permission from their sovereign to serve 
 in the ranks of the invading prince. 
 
 Meantime the indefatigable activity of 
 the Duchess of Burgundy and Father Hu- 
 bert had apprised every partisan of the line 
 of York of the claims of the new aspirant, 
 and invited them to join his standard, while 
 promises of future rewards in divers shapes
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 were liberally accorded. Some of minor 
 note had obeyed the summons, but the more 
 influential members of the faction hung 
 back until the plans of the leaders of the 
 proposed invasion were more fully deve- 
 loped.
 
 104 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTEPt YIII. 
 
 THE BORDER CHIEF. 
 
 Let nobles fight for fame ; 
 Let vassals follow where they lead, 
 Burghers to guard their townships bleed, 
 
 But war's the Borderer s game. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 0^ the crest of an eminence on the Southern 
 banks of the Tweed, there stood, at the time 
 of which we write, an ancient fortress uni- 
 Yersallj known by the name of the Heron's 
 Haunt. The parapet of the outer wall was
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 105 
 
 covered with chinks or ceillets through 
 which arrows might be discharged. In the 
 yard was the keep, the residence of the 
 chieftain. The walls were of extraordinary 
 thickness, and the staircases were peculiarly 
 narrow, for the greater facility of defence 
 in circumstances of extreme peril. At the 
 top of the keep was a broad platform com- 
 manding a view over a vast extent of country, 
 and on each side of the embattled gate was 
 a tower in which sentinels were constantly 
 stationed. 
 
 This fortress appertained to John Heron, 
 a natural brother of the lord of Ford, com- 
 monly denominated the Bastard Heron, one 
 of the chieftains who had especially distin- 
 guished himself in the Border warfare that 
 was carried on unceasingly, without regard 
 to treaties of peace or penal proclamations. 
 His name had never been connected with any 
 tale of cruelty or unprovoked act of rapacity, 
 but rather as a general redresser of grievan- 
 ces. No sooner had a Scotch reiver com- 
 mitted a foray on the English side of the
 
 106 TUB ARMOUREfl"S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Tweed, harrying and pillaging the unarmed 
 inhabitants, than the Bastard Heron's foot 
 was in his stirrup, and followed by his trusty 
 band, he never rested until vengeance was 
 exacted and restitution made. Afterwards, 
 however, with an extraordinary idea of jus- 
 tice, he would himself make an inroad into 
 the territory of his northern neighbours and 
 carry off from the unoffending natives an 
 equal amount of property, which booty he 
 would bear to his castle-hold and divide 
 among his followers ; and woe to the Scotch 
 Borderers who endeavoured to make him 
 restore his prey, the attempt was never 
 effectual, and was invariably attended with 
 loss of life and limb. If any of the 
 English marauders made an unjustifiable 
 aggression on tlie Scotch frontier, he would 
 lend no aid, whatever might be the conse- 
 quences they drew down upon themselves; 
 but in contests between his own countrymen 
 he was always ready to take the part of the 
 oppressed. 
 
 The grey mist of early dawn had dis-
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 107 
 
 persed from the horizon, and the sun had 
 sent forth his first beam to waken creation 
 into life and light, lending even a momen- 
 tary brightness to the dark old fortress, 
 when the two sentinels descended from the 
 watch-towers, having been relieved from 
 their night-guard, and sauntered to the 
 outer postern, in order to continue their 
 discourse undisturbed. The comrades were 
 exceedingly dissimilar in their appearance. 
 The one was of gigantic proportions, his 
 extreme breadth of chest and length of 
 limb could not fail to strike the beholder 
 with surprise, and his overhanging brows 
 and bullet head, covered with an abundant 
 growth of shaggy hair, threw over him an 
 air of singular ferocity. His companion was 
 very diminutive in stature, and his well-knit 
 frame was singularly slight, while his small 
 features, fair complexion, and young, boyish 
 face seemed scarce adapted to the character 
 of a Border-rider. Apparently he was 
 urging something with peculiar warmth. 
 " Surely Lilburn," said he, " you must
 
 108 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 bear in mind that this same Scottish War- 
 den strung your brother to the nearest oak 
 like an acorn — and can you rest while your 
 kinsman's unburied bones are bleached by 
 the howling winds, and his destroyer still 
 lives to boast of the savage deed? Is your 
 blood so sluggish that it cannot be roused? 
 Has nature given you the thews and sinews 
 of a giant, and thrust in the iron case a 
 coward's shrinking spirit?" 
 
 The huge Lilburn's answer was tardily 
 delivered. 
 
 " I would not be more slack than another 
 in avenging the death of poor Lancelot; 
 but, though it is a plain truth Sir Eobert 
 Ker gave him a hempen cord and a short 
 shrift, it is no less certain he had often 
 tempted his fate. You have taxed me with 
 bearing a faint heart, Eobin Starhed, but 
 I think you ought to know that this body 
 of mine is always ready to cover a friend 
 or front a foe in the hour of need." 
 
 "I did you wrong/' answered the youth. 
 '* It was the false slip of an angry tongue.
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 109 
 
 Imagine not that I forget your friendship, 
 but there is also graven on my memory, an 
 injury which scorches my blood when I think 
 on't." 
 
 *' Come ! tell me your grievance," said the 
 Border-rider kindly. " You have said a 
 score of times that an insult has been put 
 upon you, and why refuse to name it? 
 Show the wound, or who can find the 
 plaister." 
 
 "I will tell none," exclaimed Starhed 
 vehemently, " nor even you, Dick Lilburn, 
 unless you swear to help me to avenge my- 
 self. I will not be pointed at and flouted 
 by every man on the country-side who 
 measures half a yard more than myself." 
 
 " I cannot promise to do your bidding, 
 but I would stretch a point rather than be 
 backward in serving you,'' and Lilburn 
 placed his large, muscular hand on the 
 other's shoulder. The youth gently re- 
 moved the friendly hand, and pressed it in 
 his own small palm. "You are a true
 
 110 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 friend and comrade, Dick, and shall hear 
 all ! On Saint Bridget's eve, I crossed the 
 frontier to see one of the Elliotts, who was 
 sick or sorry; as I was beating mj way- 
 home, Black Harry and his band swept by 
 me like a whirlwind — some minutes after 
 the Scotch Warden and his followers passed 
 onward in pursuit — they took the wrong 
 path — I met them on their return after an 
 ineffectual chase — the Warden drew up and 
 asked me which road the fugitives had 
 taken — I told him boldly enough that I was 
 not there to make or meddle, but I could not 
 betray my countrymen." 
 
 '^ ' Answer,' thundered Sir Eobert Ker ' or 1 
 will have you scourged like a malapert boy." 
 
 " What did you reply ?" interrupted Lil- 
 burn. 
 
 " Nothing. The fierce troop gathered 
 closer round me ; there was no way of es- 
 cape. At a signal from their leader they 
 stripped the doublet from my shoulders. 
 I sprang forward, and threw myself on my 
 knees before Sir Robert Ker —
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. Ill 
 
 *''Mj Lord Warden/ said I, * I am a 
 sworn follower of the Heron, and have never 
 done you any wilful harm. Put me not 
 then to this open shame, or you \^ill live to 
 rue it. 
 
 " Sir Robert raised his foot and spurned 
 me backward, saying to those around him, 
 
 " ' Bid the sullen hound confess where 
 his thieving countrymen have stowed them- 
 selves.' 
 
 *' I believe the question was thrice re- 
 peated, but my dull ear seemed scarce to 
 comprehend its meaning — 
 
 " ' Scourge him as you would a dog,' was 
 the Warden's cry. * If he were anything 
 like a man, I would send a shaft through 
 his cloth doublet.' 
 
 "■ The mandate was obeyed ; the blood 
 streamed from my shoulders and dyed the 
 heather that grew at my feet. I said not a 
 word to provoke further the wrath of my 
 captors, lest they might slay me on the spot 
 and then I should have died unavenged.
 
 112 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Their object being accomplished, they left 
 me. At a slow pace, I returned here. 
 Three days have passed away — sleep has 
 not closed my eyes — food has hardly crossed 
 my lips — one idea alone occupies my ex- 
 istence. Lilburn, the wounded flesh shrank 
 but now from the pressure of your hand, 
 yet that is nothing to the tortures of the 
 broken spirit.'^ 
 
 "Poor Eob!'' was the only comment 
 made by the Border-rider for some minutes 
 after the o therms tale was ended. 
 
 The affection existing between these 
 strangely matched comrades was peculiarly 
 strong, perhaps it might be explained by 
 the observation that attachments are as 
 frequently founded on dissimilarity of cha- 
 racter as on congeniality of disposition. 
 Robin Starhed was born of a good family, 
 and lost his parents in a Border feud during 
 his childhood — after the affray, John Heron 
 took him under his temporary charge, and 
 when some distant relatives coldly offered
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 113 
 
 him protection, the lad refused to abandon 
 the wild life which familiarity had endeared 
 to him. His diminutive stature and fiery 
 temper had obtained for him among his 
 companions the appellation of the Fire-fly. 
 Some good seeds were early visible in his 
 disposition, but no one was at hand to en- 
 courage their increase, and the exuberant 
 growth of his unchecked passions was ra- 
 pidly converting juvenile foibles into crime. 
 Dick Lilburn, an ancient adherent of the 
 Heron family, had sported with the boy, 
 and instructed the youth in the military 
 exercises necessary to his position, until 
 constant association had bound them to- 
 gether in the closest friendship; and al- 
 though the spirit of the gigantic Border- 
 rider could with difficulty be roused on 
 his own score, he was always ready to 
 throw his weight into the scale in any 
 of the quarrels in which his young 
 favorite was too often involved. It re- 
 quired so much exertion to bring into play 
 the very small portion of judgment with
 
 114 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ■which nature had endowed him, that he 
 found it far easier to submit to his more 
 decisive companion's impetuous direction, 
 in all cases that did not include an infringe- 
 ment of discipline, the only misdemeanour 
 he considered culpable in a frontier man. 
 He had borne with comparative fortitude 
 the execution of his brother, who, it must 
 be owned, was as arrant a rogue as ever 
 trod his native hills, still he felt instinc- 
 tively aware that his assistance would be 
 claimed to redress the injuries sustained by 
 Starhed, although he did not comprehend 
 in what way they could be resented. After 
 some minutes' reflection, a mental labour to 
 which he was not accustomed, he asked if 
 the Chief knew of the outrage that had 
 been committed on the person of his fol- 
 lower. 
 
 " Not a word to him for your life," was 
 the answer. " Sir Eobert Ker is too high 
 game for him to fly at ; he would name the 
 affair to our own Warden, who would insti-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 115 
 
 tute an enquiry, and, then, perhaps, a com- 
 pensation in money would be awarded, as 
 if my flesh were to be bought for gold — a 
 ducat for every stripe — or else our leader 
 might pass into Scotland and cudgel the 
 first poor groom he encountered wearing the 
 livery of the Kers, by way of settlement. 
 No! it is not thus the offence must be ex- 
 piated.'' 
 
 " How then?'' demanded Lilburn. 
 
 *' By blood !" answered the youth in a 
 low, hissing whisper. 
 
 The Border-rider started, and opened his 
 round eyes in blank amazement. 
 
 " The boy is mad,'' he muttered, " this 
 sad mischance has crazed his brain." 
 
 " If I am maddened," responded Starhed, 
 " it is by the foul dishonor and ignominy 
 that have been heaped upon me. You know, 
 Lilburn, I am of gentle blood, and have 
 abandoned the privileges of my birth to 
 lead a frontier life — so will I do myself 
 justice in Border fashion. I cannot survive 
 those disgracing blows, if they be unatoned.
 
 116 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Seven days from hence is the annual day 
 of truce, when Sir Eobert gives a holiday 
 to his large following, and rides to meet our 
 Warden with a single attendant." 
 
 " You would not lay finger on him on 
 the day of truce," exclaimed Lilburn. 
 
 " It must be so, or how else can we meet 
 him without such fearful odds? He shall 
 have a chance for life. You will stand by 
 me, dear Lilburn, in this matter. Man to 
 man we will deal with them. Why do you 
 wear that hang-dog look? you will not 
 refuse me. Who taught me never to bide 
 a buffet from living hand 1 Who told me 
 never to forget a kindness or forgive an 
 injury? You have had an apt pupil, and 
 now if you deny me the aid of jour arm, 
 I will meet my foe alone. I have sworn 
 that the earth shall not continue to hold us 
 both. — Hush ! give not your answer at pre- 
 sent — the Heron is descending from the 
 platform with the stranger who arrived 
 yesternight — have a care to salute him as
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 117 
 
 he passes, and pri'thee look not not so 
 scared, for nothing escapes his eye." 
 
 At this moment, the Chief and 'his com- 
 panions issued from the keep, and crossed 
 to the principal gate; as they passed 
 through it, the former called to Starhed to 
 bid one of the serving-men bring his guest's 
 horse to the base of the next hill. John 
 Heron was a man in the prime of life, 
 with noble features, and a bold, dark eye, 
 and an imposing presence — an air of 
 habitual command was peceptible in every 
 movement, and his fine, martial figure pos- 
 sessed that union of strength and activity, 
 so requisite in the Border Chief. He was 
 attired in a plain hunting frock — the usual 
 undress of the day — and the richly chased 
 handle of a dagger protruded from his 
 leathern belt — for in those disturbed dis- 
 districts and troubled times, it was scarcely 
 considered prudent to be found without some 
 weapon of offence. The companions walked 
 thoughtfully along the sunny slope, until 
 they reached the point where they were to
 
 118 THE APiMOURER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 await the coming of the horse. Then the 
 Chief broke the long silence. 
 
 " In good sooth, Master Dalton, since so 
 it is your humour to be called, I hope you 
 will pardon the license of an old friend, when 
 I say I like not your present errand.^^ 
 
 " And why not?" asked the other quietly. 
 
 " Again I claim your forbearance. To 
 my seeming, it does not tally with the 
 character of a soldier and noble knight to 
 eavesdrop and play the spy, even though 
 the purpose may be to unmask a traitor, 
 and the employer is a king.'' 
 
 " Personal information is required on 
 many points, and 1 have undertaken to ob- 
 tain it." 
 
 " I cannot overcome the repugnance with 
 which I view the step. Around the per- 
 son of the masquerading pretender, who 
 styles himself Richard of York, will be found 
 some honorable high-minded men, led thither 
 by a mistaken sense of duty — many will 
 be swayed by ambition or meaner motives, 
 yet a few are honest — and will you eat of
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 119 
 
 their bread, and drink of their cup, to be- 
 tray their secret counsels to their oppo- 
 nents?^ 
 
 " The service is a painful one," said 
 DaltoD, " however, I have accepted it, and 
 nothing will deter me from fulfilling it/' 
 
 *' Henry Yll. has not a more faithful 
 subject than his poor servant John Heron, 
 yet obedience has its limits. My castle 
 and life are at the disposal of my sovereign 
 — my honour is in my own keeping/' 
 
 " I fear we shall not convert each other," 
 said his companion with a heavy sigh. 
 
 " You are then determined to proceed 
 to Edinburgh, where the young impostor 
 has sought refuge with the false Scotch 
 King?" 
 
 *' I am so. They report the youth is 
 wonderfully like his father." 
 
 '' His reputed father, you would say." 
 
 There was a pause, when the Chief added, 
 " I would have you to remember that your 
 position will be one of peril. Letters may
 
 120 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 be intercepted, or jour person recognised, 
 and small will be your claim to mercy." 
 
 " To that I am indifferent. My hand 
 and sword are tolerably well acquainted, 
 and will serve, I doubt not, to keep rny 
 head on my shoulders. For the rest due 
 precautions have been taken, and I have 
 lived so long in solitude that I think I must 
 have outgrown recollection — even your eye, 
 John, §an trace that I am strangely al- 
 tered." 
 
 *' You are indeed sadly changed. I re- 
 member the day when you were gayer and 
 more buoyant than myself, the last at a 
 feast, and the foremost in a fray, and now — " 
 he stopped and glanced on the sunken fea- 
 tures of his companion — his face was pale, 
 unnaturally so, and this was rendered more 
 apparent by the contrast with his full suit 
 of deep mourning — his bright, restless eyes 
 glittered with the brilliancy of youth, and 
 the incessant motion of his arched eje-brows 
 denoted a peculiar irritability of charac- 
 ter.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 121 
 
 Dalton met and understood his friend's 
 melancholy gaze, and said, as if in reply 
 to it: 
 
 " Grief writes sad chronicles on human 
 tablets." 
 
 " I fear,'' observed the Borderer, *' the 
 pen that indented those untimely furrows 
 must have had a venomed point." 
 
 '' It had/' said Dalton in a low tone, and 
 then added with startling energy, " Do you 
 recollect Tewkesbury ? In that bloody field 
 I stood twice bet preen Edward of York and 
 impending death, and novv if I could be 
 convinced that this aspirant to royalty was 
 his son, and be myself the means of deliver- 
 ing hitn to the headsman's axe, I could 
 meet my last hour with a lighter heart. 
 But enough of this for the present — yon- 
 der comes my horse, and I have a long 
 march before me. Farewell, John Heron, 
 we shall meet again.'' 
 
 So saying, he vaulted lightly on the horse 
 which the groom had led from the castj^ 
 
 ^OL. I. G ^^^^^
 
 122 THE ARMOUKER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 according to orders, waved his hand to hi^ 
 friend and rode off at a sharp pace, while 
 the Chief returned slowly to the Heron's 
 haunt.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 123 
 
 CiIAPTER IX. 
 
 THE BANQUET 
 
 Old Holy-rood rung merrily 
 
 That night, with wassail, mirth, and glee. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The nuptials of Richard of York and the 
 Lady Katherine Gordon, were celebrated 
 with much pomp a week after his arrival; 
 King James himself bestowed his fair kins- 
 woman on the young adventurer, and the 
 day closed with a solemn festival to which 
 G 5
 
 124 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 the whole court was bidden. All the valour, 
 wisdom, wit and beauty of the capital, 
 were collected within the walls of Holy-rood 
 House, and it was impossible to conceive 
 a more gorgeous spectacle than that vast 
 assemblage presented. The great event of 
 the day had given universal satisfaction. 
 As a matter cf policy, hoary statesmen un- 
 derstood how advantageous it would be to 
 their country, to have the English throne 
 occupied by a prince so closely connected 
 with, and deeply indebted to, their own 
 monarch, while on the other hand, if Henry 
 succeeded in repelling the invasion, his power 
 Avould be so weakened by intestine distur- 
 bances, that it would be easy to extort from 
 him a treaty favourable to the Scottish 
 interests. Young nobles felt that chance of 
 distinction was at hand, and were delighted 
 at the prospect of changing the inactivity 
 of their present life, for the stirring excite- 
 ment of the camp. And the fair dames 
 of that century (like those of our own) 
 regarded a wedding with no small portion
 
 THE ARM.IT .ER's DAUGHTER. 125 
 
 of pleasurable interest. James, with the 
 enthusiasm and inexperience of youth, had 
 abandoned himself to the romantic pleasure 
 of befriending an unfortunate exile without 
 weighing the consequences to tlie kingdom 
 he ruled. 
 
 So, the contentment being general, every 
 one yielded themselves, with a spontaneous 
 feeling, to the hilarity of the moment. 
 
 The spacious banquet-hall was crowded 
 with guests— at the upper end of the room, 
 on a raised platform, under a cloth of state, 
 sat King James, the royal table being en- 
 circled by those whose rank entitled them 
 to the distinction. Every one remained 
 standing until a flourish of trumpets an- 
 nounced that the sovereign was seated, and 
 then the rest of the company hurried to 
 follow the example. Immediately behind 
 the monarch stood Sir Eobert Ker, Warden 
 of the middle Marches, who likewise held 
 the post of cup-bearer on state occasions. 
 He was a mm of strong build, with a 
 swarthy complexion, and heavy cast of
 
 126 THF armourer's paughter. 
 
 countenance — slightly tinctured with the 
 vices common to his age, he possessed 
 many sterling qualities to atone for them. 
 He rendered himself conspicuous by his 
 unremitting endeavours to repress the wild 
 license of the Borderers — of unimpeachable 
 integrity, he recked not if the offender were 
 high or low ; neither menaces nor bribery 
 could prevent the execution of his duty; 
 although it must be confessed, his stern 
 justice often degenerated into cruelty, his 
 firmness into obstinacy, and his love of truth 
 into uncouth discourtesy. There was only 
 one being for whom the bluff Warden en- 
 tertained the slightest degree of reverence 
 — and this was the king — in his presence, 
 a deep-rooted feeling of royalty caused him 
 to change his abrupt bearing, and com- 
 mand the violence of his passions — thus, 
 without intending it, his conduct offered a 
 more acceptable kind of homage than the 
 elaborate flatteries of more wily courtiers 
 — in consequence he was a decided favorite 
 with James, who was wont to say that a
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 127 
 
 lod of assent from Sir Robert Ker was of 
 Qore worth than the oath of another. 
 
 On the King's right hand was placed the 
 jeautiful bride, the Earl of Huntly's daugh- 
 ter — every heart acknowledged her un- 
 3quaHed in loveliness — her fair cheek was 
 slightly flushed with the excitement of the 
 scene, and the drooping lashes half concealed 
 her radiant eyes; a rich lace veil was fas- 
 tened round her head, shading her snowy 
 brow, and the lappets thickly studded with 
 jewels fell on either side of her face, min- 
 gling with her waving curls. Beside her 
 was the bridegoom, the lord of her future 
 destiny. That her sovereign's award was her 
 own heart's choice, c^mid not be doubted 
 by any who saw t: e depths of tenderness 
 revealed in those soft, blue eyes, when some 
 whispered word caused her to raise them 
 to his. The young adventurer, magnifi- 
 cently arrayed in cloth of silver and claret- 
 coloured velvet, looked a worthy competitor 
 for a crown, and a fitting match even for 
 the Lady Katherine.
 
 128 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 Around the illustrious party at the upper 
 end of the room, were ranged several no- 
 ble gentlemen appertaining to the royal 
 household, and likewise some few of Eich- 
 ard^s personal attendants; among thes3 
 might be seen the flowing robes of Father 
 Hubert, who had resisted the hospitable 
 entreaties of the ushers in waiting, that he 
 would assume the place reserved for him at 
 one of the distant tables, and stood con- 
 versing courteously with those near him, 
 while neither gesture nor syllable of Eich- 
 ard escaped his eye and ear. 
 
 " And so, Sir Robert Ker,^' said the 
 monarch to his cup-bearer, " you think the 
 wild Borderers are less turbulent than here- 
 tofore?'^ 
 
 ** Nay ! my Liege, I said not so. If the 
 Marches are somewhat more tranquil, it is 
 because my foot is oftener in the stirrup 
 than in the banquet-hall.^' 
 
 "We believe the rogues keep you in full 
 exercise,'' said James. '' We have often 
 heard tell of the feats of the Southern free-
 
 THE armourer's BAUGEiER. 129 
 
 hooters, Black Harry and the Bastard 
 Eeron." 
 
 '^ They cannot be classed together, your 
 Highness," replied the Warden. "Black 
 liarry is a marauder of the worst descrip- 
 tisn ; last week he crossed the Tweed and 
 pillngeil all the cottiers in Xethercleugh 
 who had anything to lose; I gave chase 
 in vain, but I shall live to reckon with him 
 him yet. Now the Bastard Heron is a 
 Border Chief of some repute, who has 
 served his county with distinction in war 
 time; although I say this, I owe him little 
 love on more counts than one, and should 
 be well content to iLcasure swords with 
 him — he is no depredator on his own score, 
 hut he seems to consider himself the cham- 
 pion of the English Border, and wlien one 
 of our reivers — of whom there are enough 
 and to spare — liarries any of our Southern 
 neighbours, his whole force is instantly in 
 the lield, and not only does he ex.ict resti- 
 tution, but pounces besides on the gear of 
 some of our Scotch folks, which spoil he 
 
 G 5
 
 130 THE ARMOUKER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 divides among Ins retainers, as a compensa- 
 tion, 1 suppose, for their prompt adiuiuis- 
 tration of justice." 
 
 '' In gocd sooth," said James with a smile, 
 " that is by no means a bad mode of re- 
 plenishing an empty exchequer. And 
 when is the day of truce?" 
 
 " Two days from hence, my gracious 
 Lord. I shall leave Edinburgh on the 
 morrow before the dawn." 
 
 " The place of meeting is in the Englisii 
 territory, is it not?" asked James. '' Think 
 you. Sir Robert, there is no peril in riding 
 unattended through a hostile country, where 
 every man is your sworn f^e?" 
 
 " I should say not, my Liege," returned 
 the Warden. '' The Borderers are lawless 
 enough. Heaven knows — but still they hold 
 a rude kind of faith, and would not be 
 likely to violate the truce." 
 
 " The matter should Le enquired into," 
 said the monarch in a thoughtful tone. 
 **lf the meeting takes place on the other
 
 THE a.rmocrek'5 daughter. 131 
 
 side the Tweed, our Warden ought at least 
 to be accompanied by an armed guard. ' 
 
 '' My Lord King," said the cup bearer 
 hastily, '' I humbly pray you, make no 
 changes while liobert Ker is Warden of 
 the Marches. The custom that has 
 suited his predecessors may very well serve 
 him. There is no risk, I will vouch 
 for it — a whole band of Border-riders would 
 not beset a single man, and with two or 
 three of the knaves I could hold my owii." 
 
 *' We will talk of it at some future mo- 
 ment/ said Jame.-. '' These Marchmen 
 must lead a stirring life, and would make 
 good sohliers — far better in our opinion, 
 than the artizans and handicraftimen that 
 abound in other lands, although they aie 
 scarce enough In our own realms. What 
 say yj)U, my Lord uf York? you have been 
 in Flanders and Burgundy, and must have 
 heard so.iiething of the mechanics and iheir 
 apprentices; are they men likely to serve 
 their i)rince in case of need — or are their
 
 132 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 limbs bowed and strength weakened by ser- 
 vile toiir 
 
 Eichard had turned from his bride with 
 a smiling lip, when the King addressed him 
 — apparently the question was a difficult 
 one, for he paused a full minute before he 
 answered, and then there was a slight shade 
 of embarrassment in his manner. 
 
 " Perhasps your Grace may deem the 
 assertion a bold one, when I say I have 
 seen an apprentice as good a master of his 
 weapon as the best knight that ever belted 
 on a sword/^ 
 
 James made a courteous observation, and 
 directed his attention to the other guests. 
 The young adventurer did not resume his 
 discourse with his fair Kate — a heavy cloud 
 had settled on his brow, and his eyes were 
 fixed moodily on vacancy — a flood of recol- 
 lections swept across his brain ; the festival, 
 the waving plumes, and glittering jewels 
 had disappeared from view, and he was 
 looking at years gone by, over the gulph of
 
 THE armourer's DAtGHTEH. 1£3 
 
 the irrevocable past. Father Hubert ob- 
 served his pre-occiipation, stepped behind 
 his seat, and touching him on the shoulder, 
 whispered in a low, distinct tone; 
 
 '' Eecollect yourself — what has disordered 
 you thus? Strange eyes are on you." 
 
 Richard turned and noted that his bride's 
 glance was fastened on his face with an air 
 of anxious solicitude, and shaking off the 
 grasp of the confessor, he said aluud : 
 
 " Good Father, this is no season for the 
 affair you speak of; it shall have due con- 
 siderati<Tn on the morrow. How can I 
 spare one moment from these hours of hap- 
 piness?'' 
 
 And Katherine was soon bLishing and 
 smiling once more as she listened to the 
 loving flatteries of her young husband's 
 voice. The priest fell back, somewhat dis- 
 concerted with the rebuff he had received, 
 but the feeling passed away in a moment as 
 he muttered : 
 
 " He but practises the lessons I have 
 taught him, and should I chafe that he
 
 134 
 
 plays his part so perfectly? Albeit when 
 he has gained the ascent he aims at. he 
 dare not for his life fling down the ladder 
 by which he mo an ted — my fall would be 
 the prelude of his ow^n.'^' 
 
 With this consolatory reflection, the con- 
 fessor returned to his post of observation. 
 The banquet was now drawing to a close, 
 when the King called for the large silver 
 goblet which w^as used on all occasions of 
 state ceremonial — filling it to the brim he 
 rose, and after a few animated allusions to 
 the future prospects of the bride and bride- 
 groom, he bade the company pledge hira to 
 the health of Richard of York and the Widre 
 Rose of Scotland. This appellation was 
 now bestowed on Lady Katherine for the 
 first time, but sMe retained it to the day of 
 her dt^ath, and history speaks of hei' bv this 
 name, as recording at once the pretensis'iis 
 of her husband and her own rare bejiury. 
 When did roval eloquence fail to move im 
 audience! rapturous shouts of applause rent 
 the .air — James drained his goblet; and t-he
 
 THE ARMOUR' RS DAUGIiTER. 135 
 
 example was right loyally followed. How- 
 ever there were some exceptions to the gene- 
 ral enthusiasm. At one of the distant 
 tables two guests were seated, who did not 
 appear to share the contentment of the 
 rest — chance had placed them together — } et 
 both were alike ignorant of each other's 
 name and station; the one was Sir Ko- 
 nald Graham, who has been already intro- 
 duced to the reader. The other, even in 
 his sombie garb, seemed to denote how 
 little congenial to his raood, vvas tiie nurth 
 that reigned around — his cadaverous and 
 care-worn features spoke of a spirit ill at 
 ease — he was an Englishman, who, under 
 the name of Dalton, had just joined the 
 advtnturer's standard., and offered his ser- 
 vices in any way that they could be made 
 available ; he was received with open ai'ms, 
 and his adherence quoted as a proof of the 
 attachment sliii felt for the House of York. 
 in answer to the pledge made by the king, 
 Dalton raised his cup to his lips and low- 
 ered it again without tasting the contents
 
 136 THE akmjuker's daughter. 
 
 Not so Sir Eon aid, he dashed from him the 
 fine Venetian glass with a violence which 
 broke it into a hundred fragments— the eyes 
 of the two met — the shivered glass and 
 the untasted wine told a tale that could not 
 be refuted— they were no longer strangers 
 to each other — they ovvned one feeling in 
 common, which caution would oblige them 
 to mask from those around them. 
 
 At a signal from the monarch, the com- 
 pany repaired to the long gallery, where 
 music's most enlivening measures invited 
 to the dance — Graham and Dalton remained 
 apart conversing in lov/, eager tones — and 
 the young adventurer, flushed with his own 
 daring hopes, and elated at his continued 
 success, stood the centre of a knot tf noble 
 courtiers, and never dreamed that love and 
 revenge were conspiring to eclipse the sun 
 of his prosperity almost ere it rose.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 137 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WARDEN. 
 
 Why is my temper shaken with each breath 
 Of fleeting air, that's formed into a voice 1 
 Why have I not an equal mastery 
 Over my passions with the rest of men ? 
 
 It was an annual custom on the borders, 
 when the two kingdoms were not at open 
 hostility, for the Wardens of the different 
 Marches to hold a solemn meeting, when 
 compensation was made for accidental dam-
 
 [38 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 ige to • property, trifling matters of com- 
 )laint were amicably adjusted, and such of 
 he more timid spirits as had provoked the 
 'engeance of their stronger neighbours 
 \^ould seize this opportunity of offering pe- 
 cuniary concessions whereby their wrath 
 night be appeased. Notwithstanding the 
 /ariety of feuds existing among the bor- 
 lerers, it rarely occurred that the day of 
 truce was violated by the perpetration of 
 my act of violence or outrage. From time 
 mmemorial, the place of rendezvous had 
 oeen on the English side of the Tweed, 
 md the Scottish Wardens had always passed 
 to and fro without suffering the slightest 
 molestation. In compliance with this long 
 3stablished practice, Sir Robert Ker had 
 attended the annual conferen ^e — the busi- 
 ness of the day was concluded without its 
 tranquillity bein"^ infringed by any unusual 
 occurrence, and the Scotch Warden took his 
 oad homewards accompanied by a single 
 ittendant; this show of careless security 
 »eing invariably adopted by him when these
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 139 
 
 periodical meetings summoned him to the 
 English territory; at other times, he was 
 never seen without a band of armed fol- 
 lowers, less from an idea of personal de- 
 fence, than the necessity of enforcing order 
 with the strong aand of power. 
 
 On the present occasion, mounted on a 
 black steed, that had not a white speck to 
 " be seen, save a star on the forehead, Sir 
 Robert pursued his journey in a more me- 
 lancholy mood than was liis wont. He had 
 just brought, to a satisfactory settlement, 
 several intricate afiairs, and yet he was 
 sensible of an unaccountable depression of 
 spirits. Certainly, the surrounding scenery 
 was not of the most enlivening character, 
 but the mind of the Warden was not pecu- 
 liarly susceptible to external impressions. 
 His way lay through a narrow pass between 
 stupendous hills, whose beetling summits 
 were fringed with brown, stunted €r trees, 
 no sign of habitation or cultivation was 
 visible.
 
 140 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 The leaden clouds hung over head in 
 solid masses ; a chill evening mist half 
 wrapped the distance in obscurity, and the 
 wind swept through the ravine with a low 
 portentous wail. As the defile widened, 
 somewhat assuming the appearance of a 
 regular path, the figures of two wayfarers 
 became perceptible to our horseman, who 
 pricked forward with increased celerity in 
 order to overtake them. Here we must 
 leave him for the present, while we make 
 an observation on what was passing a little 
 further on the road. 
 
 Under the shade of a straggling ash, 
 whose branches drooped over a brawling 
 rivulet, were stationed two men on horse- 
 back, evidently on the look out, while 
 their position denoted a wish for conceal- 
 ment. 
 
 " Hearken !" said one of the men, " is not 
 that the tramp of a horse?" 
 
 '' 'Tis but the whistle of the rising 
 gale; one might well fancy it a funeral
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 141 
 
 " I tell you plainly, Started, I have no 
 stomach for the business we are on/' said 
 Dick Lilburn — for the speaker was no other 
 than the gigantic border-rider. '' I never 
 buckled on sword with less good will than 
 this blessed eve." 
 
 " Leave me, Dick, if you will. It mat- 
 ters not, here I take my stand. I will 
 avenge me or die." 
 
 ''How know you that Sir Eobert will not 
 take the longer and safer road? You may 
 be foiled yet, my fire-fly."" 
 
 *' I feel that my prey will not escape 
 me,'' replied the youth, ominously, " The 
 Warden, to give him his due, carries a 
 stout heart, and will not skulk the mountaiu 
 path for its loneliness." 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 ''Bow bitterly the wind pierces to the 
 marrow of one's bones," muttered Lil- 
 burn. 
 
 '' The burning shame of those disgracing 
 blows has scorched out every other sensation. 
 Since that evil day — "
 
 142 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 The words were arrested on his lips as 
 a distant cry echoed faintly through the 
 hills. The comrades gazed on each 
 other. 
 
 " It is the grey woman of the haunted 
 glen," murmured the huge border rider, 
 with a superstitious tremour. 
 
 All was again still. There was a silence of 
 of some minutes, and then a second scream, 
 louder and more piercing than the first, 
 rang through the air. 
 
 " There is mischief abroad,'' exclaimed 
 Starhed, slackening his rein and galloping 
 madly in the direction of the cries, while 
 his companion followed at a more deliberate 
 pace. 
 
 In order to account for the succeeding 
 scene, we must pray our reader to return to 
 Sir Robert Ker. A few moments brought 
 him to the side of the travellers. One 
 was a tall, sun-burnt man, far stricken 
 in years, although he carried them well — his 
 dress indicated that he belonged to the
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 143 
 
 working classes. Beside him walked 
 a young maiden, whose dark hair and 
 eye, and foreign costume, suggested the 
 idea that she did not owe her birth to that 
 northern clime. The knight reined in his 
 horse as he approached. A single glance 
 sufficed to convince him he had seen that 
 Madonna countenance elsewhere — a slight 
 exertion of memory recalled that it was in 
 Burgundy, on the day of the Duchess' ar- 
 rival at Saint Evert, whither he was led, 
 partly by curiosity, and partly by a desire 
 do honor to the Earl of Huntly's daughter 
 — though possessing little reverence for 
 the sex — ^he was a rough admirer of beauty, 
 and had made some ineffectual efforts to 
 trace whose was the lovely face that had so 
 attracted him. 
 
 " My good friend," demanded the Warden, 
 whither are you bound?" 
 
 " Fair sir," replied the old^man, half chur 
 lishly — for he had noted the bold look fixed 
 on his child. " Fair sir, our road seems to
 
 144 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 be the same, but our weary limbs can ill 
 keep pace with your mettled steed. I pray 
 you to pass onward." 
 
 " My pretty maid," said Sir Eobert, " if 
 you will place your tiny foot on the toe of 
 my boot, I will engage to vault you into the 
 saddle as easily as a fly, and thus the way 
 will be lighter for both of us." 
 
 Instinctively the young girl drew closer 
 to her father, whose hand played tremu- 
 lously with his knotted stick as he an- 
 swered, 
 
 *' My daughter thanks you for your cour- 
 tesy, if it is intended as such. We are poor 
 but honest wayfarers, and no fit company 
 for a worshipful knight." 
 
 " Still 1 may not be defrauded of a kiss 
 for my good offer. Nay, fly not, foolish 
 trembler, your contumacy deserves harder 
 penance. Here Andrew," turning to his 
 attendant, " catch me yon frightened fawn; 
 I will press her lips, although her peevish- 
 ness scarce merits such a grace."
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 145 
 
 The grim retainer dismounted: as he 
 advanced the maiden uttered the first low 
 shriek that startled the Border-riders in 
 their ambush. 
 
 However, aid was nearer than any of the 
 parties expected. Suddenly a man bounded 
 over the ragged summit of an adjacent peak, 
 sprang down the declivity, and stood in 
 another moment by the Warden's side. 
 The new-comer was the Bastard Heron. 
 While pursuing his usual ramble through 
 the hills, accident directed his steps nigh 
 the spot where the above scene was being 
 enacted, and the cry of a woman in distress 
 never met his ear unheeded. Placing him- 
 self before Sir Eobert's horse, he said 
 sternly, 
 
 " Back with you ! Act your pleasure on 
 your own Borders, but our free-born mai- 
 dens shall find a protector from your lawless 
 outrage wherever a man's heart beats in 
 an English bosom. Take warning at 
 once, and go hence in peace while you may, 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 or the evil that will ensue be on your own 
 head!" 
 
 There was a momentary hesitation in the 
 Warden's manner ; the affair that had com- 
 menced with a rude jest, threatened a bloody 
 termination; he inwardly felt that his cause 
 of quarrel was not a worthy one, and was 
 half inclined to recede, but a glance at the 
 menacing frown on his opponent's brow 
 recalled the native obstinacy of his cha- 
 racter, and he answered, in terms as 
 haughty as those in which he had been ad- 
 dressed, 
 
 " Stand from my path, base-born churl ! 
 The foul fiend himself shall not stay my 
 purpose !" 
 
 While these words of defiance were being 
 exchanged, the old man threw himself be- 
 tween the armed attendant and his daughter, 
 and raising his stick dealt him as weighty 
 a blow as his failing force would permit. 
 Incensed at this attack, the retainer dashed 
 his assailant aside with such violence that
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 147 
 
 he fell to the ground groaning heavily ; his 
 head had struck against a projecting stone, 
 and the blood was flowing profusely from 
 a wound in the temple. At this moment a 
 second scream of mingled terror and anguish 
 escaped the young girl's lips. As Sir Ro- 
 bert made a movement to advance, the 
 Heron seized the bridle and caused the horse 
 to rear up almost in a horizontal position; 
 if his aim had been to unseat his opponent, 
 he soon found his mistake, for the Warden 
 remained as immoveable as if he were a por- 
 tion of the noble animal he bestrode. Per- 
 ceiving that his horse was being backed to 
 the edge of a deep chasm, the Warden drew 
 his short sword, when quick as thought the 
 Borderer relinquished the reins, and grasp- 
 ing the weapon with both hands, heedless 
 of the gashes it inflicted, snapped the blade 
 asunder. Tossing the fragments from him, 
 he threw his long arms around the body of 
 his adversary, and literally endeavoured to 
 tear him from the saddle. In this iron 
 embrace the arms of the Warden were pini- 
 H 3
 
 148 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 oned to his sides, and at first his most 
 strenuous efforts were insufficient to extri- 
 cate himself. Through all the country-side 
 there was none to compare with the Heron 
 for strength and pliancy of limb, or dexterity 
 in manly exercises; neither was Sir Robert 
 a contemptible foe — his position on horse- 
 back gave him a superiority which threa- 
 tened to render the unequal struggle a brief 
 one. 
 
 For some instants nothing was heard 
 but the heavy breathing of the combatants, 
 and then the galloping of a horse was dis- 
 tinguishable in the distance. The strength 
 of the Borderer was becoming gradually 
 expended. Sir Eobert had released one of 
 his arms, and snatched the dagger from his 
 belt, when there came a sudden flash, the 
 report of an arquebuse, and the Warden 
 dropped heavily to the earth, bearing with 
 him his antagonist who had not relinquished 
 his tenacious hold. 
 
 To rise from the ground and rush towards 
 the maiden who was weeping over her
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 149 
 
 father's bleeding body was with the Heron 
 but the work of a moment. Hitherto the 
 fierce retainer had stood by her unheeded, 
 while she attempted to restore suspended 
 animation, but when he saw the fall of his 
 leader, he leaped on his horse and was soon 
 lost to view in the winding defile. 
 
 Perceiving that life was not quite extinct, 
 the Heron desired the girl to bind the old 
 man's wound with her kerchief, and then 
 returned to the spot where his fallen enemy 
 was lying. Bending over him was a youth 
 whom the chief instantly recognised as 
 Robin Starhed, one of his own followers. 
 His arquebuse, recently discharged, was 
 leaning against the trunk of a neighbouring 
 pine-tree. Dick Lilburn stood a few 
 paces off, holding the horses, and seeming 
 scarcely able to comprehend what had taken 
 place. 
 
 '* That was an unlucky shot of yours, 
 Starhed, even though it saved me from a 
 stroke of the dagger," said the chief as he
 
 150 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 gazed on the countenance of the dying 
 Scot. 
 
 Life was evidently ebbing fast; the eyes 
 were open, but it was difficult to say if re- 
 cognition were in their glances ; the strong 
 man was wrestling with his last enemy, 
 death. At length he appeared to gain a 
 momentary advantage, as by an almost su- 
 pernatural exertion he raised himself from 
 his recumbent posture, and glared on those 
 around him, while he exclaimed, in faint, 
 hollow tones, 
 
 " I call Heaven and earth to witness, 
 John Heron, that 1 have been traitorously 
 done to death by you and your myrmidons, 
 on this day of truce ! My blood shall be 
 required at your hands, and this deed shall 
 be recorded for ever as a blot upon your 
 country, and a foul stigma on all who bear 
 your name !" 
 
 There was no answer made to this solemn 
 denunciation; each one felt inwardly ap- 
 palled at the consequences of the act that
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 151 
 
 had been committed. With a convulsive 
 gasp the Warden sank back, a slight tremor 
 passed over his limbs, the dews of death 
 gathered on his brow, and a light foam stood 
 on his lips, while they murmured, '' God 
 save King James 1" This was a last effort of 
 expiring nature — Sir Eobert Ker had 
 breathed his last ! 
 
 The Heron stooped over the body, and 
 perceived that the bullet had passed a little 
 below the heart. 
 
 '* You should have aimed at a less vital 
 part, Robin," said he, for Starhed was famed 
 for his singular address as a marksman, 
 whether with bullet or arrow. " But why 
 do I reproach others ! It is my own impe- 
 tuous folly that has brought this sore dis- 
 grace on me. I should have remembered 
 the truce; his person should have been 
 sacred as that of our anointed king. I fear 
 me this day's work will bring desolation on 
 many an English hearth." 
 
 It was evident the Scottish Warden had
 
 152 THE armourer's daughter, 
 
 died in the belief that he had been design- 
 edly beset by his enemies, and had fallen 
 a victim to treachery — his opinion did no 
 more than justice, as far as Starhed was 
 concerned. Xo error of judgment, no ex- 
 citation of the nerves at his leader's peril 
 occasioned the shot which put so fatal a 
 termination to the encounter — the youth 
 galloped to the spot with a presentiment 
 that he should find Sir Eobert engaged in 
 the scene of strife ; he did not recognise the 
 person of his chief, he felt only the presence 
 of his enemy, and the dread that some other 
 hand might lay him low — and his bullet 
 sped on its avenging errand. 
 
 In a few brief sentences the Heron com- 
 manded his followers to prepare a litter with 
 the branches of trees, that the old wayfarer, 
 whose course seemed nearly run, might be 
 conveyed to the Heron's Haunt, with as 
 much ease as the circumstances of his case 
 would permit. His intention was to send 
 from his castle a small troop to carry the
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 153 
 
 remains of Sir Robert Ker across the Tweed 
 to the Castle of Jedburgh. 
 
 While the Border- riders were executing 
 his orders, by a little kindlj questioning he 
 contrived to elicit from the poor maiden 
 some account of herself. Her father, Nicho- 
 las Hatherton, was, she said, born and bred 
 in the border-land, and had practised the 
 craft of armourer in Burgundy, until lately, 
 having sustained some severe losses in trade, 
 he determined to return to his native 
 country, and spend his last days among 
 the friends of his youth. It was during 
 their tedious journey from the coast 
 that the above unhappy adventure had oc- 
 curred. 
 
 All was in readiness for the march; the 
 sufferer was placed on the rudely-constructed 
 litter, and every eye was turned to the chief 
 for directions how to proceed. With a hasty 
 step he strode to the body of his fallen 
 enemy, and taking from his left hand the 
 hunting-glove embroidered with the armo- 
 H 5
 
 154 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTEK. 
 
 rial cognizance of the Herons, he laid it on 
 the breast of the dead knight, that all men 
 miglit know by whom the deed had been 
 committed. It was the custom of John 
 Heron, in consequence of the stain on his 
 birth, to employ the left glove as his gage 
 in all matters of challenge, in order to dis- 
 tinguish him more markedly from the legi- 
 timate head of that noble house. 
 
 The litter was now raised and borne for- 
 ward by the chief and Dick Lilburn ; Viola 
 Hatherton walked by her parent, holding 
 his nerveless hand, and Starhed followed 
 with the horses. They wended their way 
 slowly and in silence, save when a groan 
 broke at intervals from the lips of the 
 wounded man. 
 
 Night had spread her sable wings ere they 
 reached the Borderer's fortress. On enter- 
 ing the embattled gatep, his first order 
 was to send forth a band in quest 
 of the corpse of Sir Robert Ker. Starhed 
 accompanied them in the capacity of 
 guide.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 155 
 
 Dawn was glimmering in the East before 
 the English Border-riders returned from 
 an unsuccessful mission; they had sought 
 far and wide — but the body of the Warden 
 was nowhere to be found.
 
 156 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Without the smile from partial beauty won. 
 Oh, what were man? — a world without a sun I 
 
 Campbell, 
 
 The sun was sinking to his rest, half cur- 
 tained by a floating mass of golden clouds, 
 as Richard of York and his bride of a day 
 paced together along the trim, formal walks 
 of the pleasure-garden which stretched be- 
 hind the city residence of the Eail of Huntly.
 
 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 157 
 
 His arm was thrown fondly around her 
 graceful figure, and perhaps at that moment 
 he did not deem the treasure of her love 
 bought at too costly a price, even though 
 self-respect and peace of conscience had been 
 lost in the purchase. 
 
 Who has not felt occasionally, when in- 
 troduced to an utter stranger, a vague im- 
 pression that the aspect and features are 
 not quite unfamiliar? — an indefinite con- 
 sciousness that they have been encountered 
 before, while memory declines to lend her 
 aid for the solution of the mystery ? Such 
 was the case with the Lady Katherine Gor- 
 don; could it have been in her dreams that 
 she had beheld the future partner of her 
 destiny ? — and she smiled as the idea crossed 
 her mind. 
 
 Having elicited the cause of that involun- 
 tary smile, the Adventurer strove to combat 
 the impression that they had met at some 
 former period of their existence. 
 
 " And yet," he added, " why should he 
 doubt the airy creations of her slumbering
 
 158 THE AKMOURER's DAtlGHTEH. 
 
 brain had worked so pleasant a miracle, 
 since her own image was but the embodi- 
 ment in one perfect whole, of all the phan- 
 toms of loveliness which had been wont to 
 haunt the imagination of his youth. 
 
 *' Tell me, my good lord," interrupted the 
 Lady Katherine, " tell me something of 
 your early youth — if the sad tale will not 
 weary you : I would fain hear you speak of 
 yon gloomy Tower of London, where you 
 passed so many hours of captivity, and 
 escaped at last so cruel a death." 
 
 "Nay, my own Kate, this is no time for 
 such a blood-stained chronicle. The past 
 is to me a tragic volume, which I would 
 gladly keep for ever sealed ; and the present 
 is full of bliss so undeserved, that I tremble 
 at the excess of my happiness. Say, lady 
 mine, had your husband proved to be the 
 lowly serf, which for his safety's sake he has 
 sometimes been obliged to seem, could you 
 have loved him then?" 
 
 " Jest not, my dear lord, on so high a 
 theme," exclaimed Katherine, as she dispn.
 
 THE ARMOtJRER'S DAtJGHTER. 159 
 
 gaged herself from his embrace, and stood 
 before him with a countenance which 
 denoted, in the play of each expres- 
 sive feature, the earnest nature of her feel- 
 ings. 
 
 •"The kingdom you were born to rule, may 
 have passed into the hands of the usurper, 
 but who shall unking you? To me, you 
 will ever be lord and sovereign. Though 
 not a rood of the land, that should have 
 been your inheritance, may ever call you 
 master, who shall pluck from your bosom 
 the royal heart that leads you iorth to bat- 
 tle for the sceptre of your ancestors? In 
 that dread struggle, no woman's fear shall 
 hold you back; and whatever of evil may 
 betide, one subject will remain to you, 
 whose loving duty will seek to atone for 
 the unmerited strokes of adverse fortune." 
 And as she spoke, the young wife stooped 
 forward to kiss her husband's hand. 
 
 Passing his other hand rapidly across his 
 brow, the adventurer turned on her a
 
 160 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 glance of unutterable fondness as he mur- 
 mured : 
 
 " Little should I reck of crown or king- 
 dom, if this true heart still owned my do- 
 minion." 
 
 At this moment, the figure of Father 
 Hubert caught Eichard's eye, as he crossed 
 a side alley intersecting the other extre- 
 mity of the long gravel walk. 
 
 " I fear that I must quit this dear side 
 for a short space," said the adventurer. ^' An 
 affair of moment, summons me from you ; 
 }'et believe, sweet Kate, like a very miser, 
 I shall long to return and gaze on my trea- 
 sure, in order to assure myself of its pos- 
 session." 
 
 " I like not the aspect of yonder dark 
 priest," observed the lady. " Like some 
 spectre from another world, he ever starts 
 up when least expected, and then a cloud 
 gathers on your brow, and you seek an early 
 pretext to leave me.'' 
 
 " Chafe not at the vigilance of one whose
 
 THE ABMOURER'S DAUGHTER. 161 
 
 counsels I deeplj value ; without his aid I 
 should never have won my peerless bride; 
 all the energies of his active and powerful 
 mind, have constantly been devoted to my 
 success/' 
 
 " Since he holds so high a place in your 
 esteem, that should alone suffice to bespeak 
 my favor; and as a penance for my idle 
 prejudice, I will, myself, begone and leave 
 you to your conference,'' and inclining her 
 snowy forehead to meet his eager lips, Ka- 
 therine glided across the mossy lawn, where 
 the daisy scarce bowed the head beneath the 
 elastic tread of her fairy foot. 
 
 With a heart full of emotions, whose 
 conflicting character it would be impossible 
 to describe, Richard gazed after his beauti- 
 ful companion till distance rendered her in- 
 visible; and then folding his arms upon his 
 breast, he slowly paced the narrow path- 
 way, while his thoughts took the following 
 strain, although they did not shape them- 
 selves into words. 
 
 '^ She says truly," he mused to himself,
 
 J 62 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 " yon hooded priest is, to me, a spectre of 
 the past; haunting me with recollections 
 of another sphere; the tempter whose 
 smooth tongued words impelled me first to 
 plunge into this sea of error — if it were 
 not for the interruption of his presence, I 
 might sometimes be led to forget what I 
 have been, in what I seem to be. And yet, 
 what is Katherine herself? ^ly accusing 
 angel ! although she dreams not of it — her 
 truthful look — her confiding affection and 
 gentle deference, all these plant daggers in 
 my heart — how would she spurn me could she 
 guess to whom she had allied herself! Still, 
 if she knows it not, wherein have I wronged 
 her "? Will not my heart beat for her with 
 a love more fond and deep than the languid 
 pulses of any son of luxury could ever feel ? 
 Shall I not be as watchful to soothe, as bold 
 to defend, as if the blood that courses 
 through my veins, could be traced to a hun- 
 dred noble sires? To win her smiles, who 
 would have perilled earth and heaven as I 
 have done? Away then, with such gloomy
 
 THE ARMOUREK's DAUGHTER. 163 
 
 thoughts? Let me, with firmness at least, 
 play the part I have taken on myself! And 
 now, to seek my counsellor." 
 
 A few rapid strides brought the young 
 man to the side of Father Hubert, and then 
 succeeded several explanations relative to 
 the intricacies of the plot, which will be 
 found duly chronicled in the various histo- 
 ries of Perkin Warbeck's insurrection. 
 
 " Have you heard nought further from 
 Sir William Stanly?'' inquired the young 
 adventurer. 
 
 " Not a syllable ; I fear much the learned 
 chancellor's correspondence must have fallen 
 into evil hands." 
 
 •'It could not endanger his neck, if it is 
 written in the usual cypher, of which we 
 have the key." 
 
 " No doubt every possible precaution has 
 been taken to elude discovery," rejoined 
 Father Hubert. " And now, my lord, I 
 would venture to suggest that, in your pri- 
 vate negotiations with James, you must be 
 no niggard of your promises, fair words at
 
 164 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 the present crisis, will avail more than an 
 armed host ; there are various strongholds 
 on the other side of the Tweed, which the 
 Scottish Kings have long coveted, of these 
 you must guarantee him the possession — 
 that is to say, when you come into your 
 own — as a return for his immediate counte- 
 nance and protection,^' 
 
 Eichard bit his lip, and fixed his eyes 
 upon the ground, while he answered in a 
 constrained voice, 
 
 " It seems to me, neither just nor politic 
 to compromise the interests of a people 
 whose affections it would be desirable to 
 conciliate-; and to surrender fortresses, 
 which have been termed, with reason, the 
 keys of the country, into the keeping of a 
 rival king, would appear, to me, a danger- 
 ous expedient. But, indeed, the discussion 
 is useless ; as if I could bring my mind to 
 consent to an agreement of such a nature; 
 there is no certainty that I shall ever be in 
 a position to redeem the pledge." 
 
 " Truly," said the priest, with a smile?
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 165 
 
 " that last argument of yours lends weight 
 to my side of the question. It will be easy 
 to pass your word for the performance of 
 certain conditions, whose fulfilment cir- 
 cumstances may forbid ; and should 
 happy fortune once raise you to the 
 height we aim at, your promise can then 
 be broken." 
 
 While his companion spoke, the adven- 
 turer listened intently with knitted brow, 
 flashing eye, and clenched teeth ; as the last 
 words were uttered, he sprang forward and 
 grasped the other's arm violently, as he 
 muttered, 
 
 ^' Out on you, for a false-tongued villain ! 
 And yet," he added, relaxing his hold, 
 "why should I upbraid him? Is not my 
 own soul steeped in guilt and deception of 
 a far deeper dye? I have lost the right to 
 rebuke falsehood and condemn treachery — 
 henceforth, they are my household gods and 
 sit at my domestic hearth smiling at their 
 victim."
 
 166 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 And the young raan buried his face in 
 his hands and groaned aloud. 
 
 " My young friend," said the confessor, 
 fixing his keen eye upon him; " take not 
 the matter so seriously. That which I have 
 proposed to you, is but one of the many 
 stratagems which men of worldly wisdom 
 deem justifiable, when employed in state 
 affairs. In transactions of this nature, a 
 slight deviation from rectitude does not in- 
 volve a loss of honour. Has any thing 
 occurred to make you loath the path you 
 have chosen, and thus changed into re- 
 proaches, the grateful thanks with which 
 you loaded me a few days since, as being 
 the chief instrument in your elevation to 
 splendour and happiness. Is there rea- 
 sonable foundation for this alteration of 
 sentiment?^' 
 
 Eichard shook his head impatiently. 
 Then, with a long succession of soothing 
 arguments and subtle reasonings, did Father 
 Hubert endeavour to reconcile his pupil to
 
 THE AliMOUREIi'S DAUGHTER. 167 
 
 the lot he had destined for him; laughing 
 away his scruples, and urging that the as- 
 sumption of the character of another person 
 could not be accounted an injury to society, 
 when the real existence of the individual 
 in question would be generally hailed as a 
 benefit. The topic upon which they had dif- 
 ferred, was not again alluded to; and if 
 the companions separated with somewhat less 
 than their usual demonstrations of cordiality 
 and good-will- — at least the young man's 
 manner was courteous and his words 
 calm, as he wished the priest good even, and 
 directed his steps towards the princely re- 
 sidence of the proud Earl, whose son-indaw 
 he had become. The connection between 
 Father Hubert and the youthful adventurer, 
 generally known as Eichard of York, was 
 not of a nature likely to foster in the latter 
 any feeling of respect for his preceptor, and 
 yet such was the power of intellect, added 
 to the advantages of experience, that the 
 wily priest had contrived to obtain an al- 
 most unbounded influence over the mind of 
 his pupil — his instructions, evil in their
 
 168 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 import, were ever supported by sophistries 
 difficult to refute — so subtle was the poison 
 that it gradually became diffused into the 
 system, without causing any decided shock 
 to the frame. However, since Richard 
 had proclaimed himself a suitor for the 
 hand of the Lady Gordon, the confessor 
 had assumed a greater freedom of ad- 
 dress^ an occasional sarcastic turn of ex- 
 pression, w^hich did not fail to irritate the 
 mind of his hearer, although the effect was 
 not visible at the moment — bound irre- 
 vocably to the course he had adopted, since 
 the happiness of one dearer than himself 
 would be shipwrecked by his defection, 
 there was no further fear that his impetu- 
 osity would mar, or his inward sense of 
 right revolt from, the plots and schemes 
 which had for their object the downfal of 
 the house of Tudor. Endowed with many 
 natural gifts of a superior order, during 
 the tw^o years he had been under the priest^s 
 tuition, the most careful culture had been 
 expended on his mind and person, with a
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 169 
 
 view to render him a fair pretender to the 
 regal dignity, and certainly the pains had 
 not been ill-bestowed. Possessed of an un- 
 taught eloquence and habitual grace of 
 speech, which arj; may improve but cannot 
 confer, he seldom failed to charm and in- 
 terest those with whom he came in contact. 
 There was an easy dignity in his step, and 
 an air of thoughtful command on his broad 
 brow, which made him no unmeet represen- 
 tative of a royal line. Neither is it to be 
 inferred from the readiness with which the 
 nameless outcast yielded to the voice of the 
 tempter, with its promises of exalted sta- 
 tion and high-born beauty, that his heart 
 was originally corrupted, or formed in an 
 ignoble mould. On the other hand, his had 
 been a generous ambition, and his tempera- 
 ment frank and open, until in a moment of 
 weakness and despair, he had consented to 
 play the part assigned to him, without 
 foreseeing " the tangled web he was about 
 to weave;'' and since that fatal hour the 
 sling of remorse had occasionally made it- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE ARMOURLR's DAUGHTER. 
 
 self felt in the very heighth of his triumph 
 and even now prevented him trom enjoying 
 the fruits of his deception. 
 
 This is a case of no unfrequent occur- 
 rence — many there are whose virtue is not 
 firm enough to avoid the wrong, and yet 
 possess sufficient to regret it.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. I 71 
 
 CHAPTER Xll. 
 
 THE ENYOY. 
 
 ''Tib true I am a king ; 
 Honors and glory too have been my aim : 
 But tho' I dare face death, and all the dangers 
 Which, furious war wears in its bloody front, 
 Yet could I choose to fix my fame by peace, 
 By justice, and by mercy ; and to raise 
 My trophies on the blessing of mankind ; 
 Nor would I buy the empire of the world 
 With ruin of the people whom I sway, 
 Or forfeit of my honor. 
 
 RowE. 
 
 It is curious to note with what fanatical 
 zeal men of the middle ages embraced the 
 I 3
 
 172 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 faction to which their early training or 
 personal predilection inclined them — how 
 devotedly blind was their enthusiasm — how 
 ready their belief in the possibility of suc- 
 cess — and how easily was the faintest spark 
 of hope extracted from the ashes of despair, 
 and fanned into a bright and steadfast 
 flame. Notwithstanding the late insurrec- 
 tion, organized by Simnel, had terminated 
 so promptly in the complete overthrow of 
 the insurgents, and the beheading and hang- 
 ing of the ringleaders, the expectations of 
 the Yorkists were still on the stretch ; and 
 in the easy credulity with which they ac- 
 cepted the claims of another pretender, 
 might be read their fervent wish to see the 
 banner of the White Eose once more in 
 the field. And yet, to a dispassionate mind, 
 Henry VII. was seated so firmly on the 
 British throne, that the hopes of his ad- 
 versaries had but a sorry foundation — his 
 union with Elizabeth, daughter of Edward 
 of York, and the last scion of that ill-fated 
 line, bespoke for him the legitimate homage
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 173 
 
 of the country — his coffers were full of 
 treasure that in those days, as in these, 
 sufficed to purchase service and allegiance ; 
 and above all, he had contrived to attach 
 to himself that new power lately grown 
 up in the state, whose voice began to be 
 heard, and whose influence would make it- 
 self felt; the traders and merchants of 
 London, and their connections in England's 
 most wealthy and populous cities, who were 
 already assuming a distinct course of policy, 
 and were no longer to be crushed by 
 the armed heel of the noble, or affrighted 
 by the terrors of the Church — the charac- 
 ter of the reigning sovereign, cold, prudent, 
 and calculating, was better appreciated by 
 the thrifty sons of commerce than by the 
 haughty Barons, who esteemed only the 
 more chivalrous qualities characteristic af 
 their orders. Aware that a fresh preten- 
 der to the crown had started up, and sought 
 protection and assistance from the King of 
 Scotland, Henry immediately despatched 
 an ambassador to the court of Edinburgh,
 
 174 THE AEMOURER^S DAUGHTER, 
 
 to demand that the impostor should be dis- 
 missed from the kingdom. The individual 
 selected to perform this missiou, was Sir 
 Ealph Wentworth, a man of little note, 
 but one whose keen perception, undoubted 
 courage, and inflexible loyalty had secured 
 for him the favorable opinion of his royal 
 master, and pointed him out as a fitting 
 representative of his interests. The envoy 
 had no sooner reached Edinburgh than his 
 arrival was duly announced, and an early 
 day was appointed for his reception. A 
 full council was convened an hour before 
 the time fixed for the introduction of the 
 English ambassador — at one end of the 
 hall, in a chair of state sat King James; 
 and at his right hand was Hichard of York, 
 whose presence had been solicited in order 
 that he might make a personal appeal to 
 that noble assemblage, before his powerful 
 enemy had an opportunity of urging his 
 banishment. The monarch, after a few 
 brief words of explanation, made a sign 
 that the Adventurer should advance and
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 175 
 
 speak in his own behalf. With a stately 
 step Richard moved into the centre of the 
 the hall, and certes at that moment there 
 was neither doubt nor vacillation on his 
 lofty brow; as he raised his head, and 
 glanced at the brilliant throng, his cheek 
 flushed, his eye kindled, and he looked and 
 felt as if he were indeed the exiled prince 
 pleading for his birthright. 
 
 '^ Peers of Scotland,'' he commenced, 
 " brave knights and honorable councillors, 
 byiavor of your sovereign, I am here this 
 day to pray of your nobleness and bounty 
 that which would not be denied to the 
 meanest kind — the boon of breathing the 
 air of your free land unmolested, the power 
 of wending where T list unquestioned. The 
 broad heritage that my father's sword 
 wrested from the grasp of the usurper, is 
 DOW swayed by another. The Envoy of 
 this potent enemy stands now at your gate, 
 to require that I should be thrust forth 
 like a branded felon — this will be his de- 
 mand. My lords, I read your answer on
 
 176 THE AKMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 your fearless brows; still it would be a 
 wrong to your friendly trust, did I forbear 
 to say that hereafter I shall turn my steps to 
 England, backed by my just cause, a 
 dauntless heart, and the few followers 
 whom love and old allegiance have bound 
 to me — and good hope have I that when 
 the White Eose takes the field, friends will 
 gather thick to the standard of their early 
 faith. The struggle may not be bloodless, 
 but if the issue is successful, Scotland will 
 find Richard of York bears a grateful heart, 
 and dear as brothers will he hold such 
 knights as lend him aid of men or arms. 
 After what I have avowed, if the dread of 
 England's displeasure should interpose, and 
 you cannot or dare not protect me, I will 
 withdraw without remonstrance, and only 
 sigh to think that Scottish men are less 
 generous than I had believed. How say 
 you, noble sirs, shall I have the boon I 
 crave ?'' 
 
 The death -like stillness which prevailed 
 while the Adventurer spoke, was broken by
 
 THE ARMOUKEr's DAUGHTER. 177 
 
 a low murmur of approbation, which was 
 only suppressed in deference to the presence 
 of the king, v/ho surveyed the scene before 
 him with an air of keen interest although 
 he did not offer any interruption. Then 
 Archibald, lord of Angus, stepped forth. 
 This was the celebrated warrior who had 
 obtained the name of Bell-the-cat, from a 
 circumstance that must be so well known to 
 our readers that a repetition of it would be 
 needless. Large of stature, strong of muscle, 
 and gigantic in strength was the Chief of 
 the line of Douglas, and although he had 
 reached a time of life usually more distin- 
 guished for wisdom than personal prowess, 
 his stalwrrt manhood had lost none of its 
 might, and as he stood leaning on his iieavy, 
 two-handed sword, which few in that cham- 
 ber could wield, bold indeed must have been 
 the spirit that coveted a trial of arms with 
 the stout eld earl. 
 
 " My gracious liege,'' said the Douglas, 
 and his voice, potent in the council as in 
 the field, riveted instant attention, " your 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 royal wisdom has in some measure left this 
 matter to our arbitration, and therefore, 
 beseeching your good patience, T would say 
 it touches our honor that the young Prince 
 of York should be driven from our shores at 
 the bidding of our Southern neighbours. 
 Id consideration of the existing treaty, we 
 may not marshal him across the Tweed with 
 the banner of Scotland flying beside his 
 own, though, by Saint Dunstan ! such would 
 be a just requital for former courtesies from 
 English rulers. If they want aught in 
 Scottish land, let them come and take it; 
 they will find a rougher welcome than they 
 look for. We may not be forward to attack, 
 but we will be prompt to defend. If any 
 here hold different judgment, impartial 
 hearing should be given him, only let him 
 beware that his counsel be not backed with 
 arguments to which it might not beseem our 
 king to listen." 
 
 '' As thinks the Douglas, so say we!'^ ex- 
 claimed a score of eager voices in one 
 breath.
 
 THE AKM^UREit's DAUGHTER. 171) 
 
 James noted the gathering enthusiasui, 
 and his hazel eye brightened; then with a 
 mien of grave majesty which he well knew 
 how to assume, he addressed the animated 
 conclave. 
 
 " Lords, ye have spoken as becomes your 
 gallant spirit and knightly faith ; and yet, 
 the peace of two kingdoms must not be en- 
 dangered lightly. Earl Hepburn, cousin 
 Huntly, marshal this royal messenger with 
 due ceremonial to our presence — we will 
 admit him straight, and learn what Henry 
 of England demands at our hand. If he 
 ask what our honur may lawfully grant, 
 he wall not find us loath to do him plea- 
 sure.'' 
 
 Obeying a silent gesture from the 
 monarch, the Adventurer withdrew from 
 the audience-hall, vv^here a deep silence 
 reigned, until the entry of the English 
 Envoy, preceded by the nobles who had 
 been appointed to conduct him to the pre- 
 sence. 
 
 Sir Ralph Weatworth was a man whose
 
 180 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 calm superiority of mind forbade his being 
 overawed by the dignity of rank, while his 
 steady self-control would enable him under 
 all circumstances to maintain a suitable 
 deference to the symbol of royalty. Small 
 had been the train assigned him by his 
 sovereign, for the pressing nature of his 
 mission did not admit of that ostentatious 
 splendour usually displayed in any solemn 
 embassy between the countries. 
 
 Passing through the gorgeous ante-cham- 
 ber, the British Envoy became instantly an 
 object of remark and interest to the groups 
 of lesser nobles congregated there. Amid 
 the glitter and shine of costly velvet and 
 gleaming jewels, the dark robe of Father 
 Hubert was seen in strange contrast, as he 
 spoke in light phrase to the younger 
 knights, of the pastimes suiting their years, 
 while his ear was painfully stretched to 
 catch the slightest sound from the adjoining 
 hall. 
 
 Sir Ralph Wentworth advanced to King 
 James's chair of state and made him due
 
 THE ABMOUREr's DAUGHTER. 181 
 
 obeisance, a herald having previously pre- 
 sented his letters of credence on bended 
 knee. The monarch made gracious 
 answer, 
 
 ^' We have learned/' added he, '' that the 
 majesty of England sends us a message 
 through your lips. What wills our royal 
 brother? We shall hold ourselves debtor 
 if you will teach us how we may serve 
 him." 
 
 " Gracious Sire," replied Sir Ealph, " I 
 speak the bidding of my lord and king. 
 Henry VII., by God's grace. King of Eng- 
 land and Ireland, demands that the Flemish 
 imposter, fiJsely assuming to be Eichard of 
 York, should be banished this kingdom; 
 and further, my most puissant liege and 
 sovereign entreats your royal grace to dis- 
 trust such ill-advised counsellors as would 
 seek to dissuade you from his alliance, and 
 for the establishment of a firm and durable 
 peace, my gracious lord proposes to meet in 
 person the King of Scotland, at any place
 
 182 THE ARMOURERS DaUGHTKR. 
 
 on the Borders that may be mutually agree 1 
 upon." 
 
 It may be matter of surprise that a prince 
 so politic as Henry should couch his com- 
 mission in terms so peremptory and so liable 
 to offend a fiery spirit, but the English 
 monarch was aware that an open eneuiy was 
 less to be dreaded than a covert oue, and 
 his emissary had clear instructions to un- 
 mask the intentions of James, and compel 
 him to avow them and take some decided 
 part in the impending struggle. Besides, 
 the feeling of the English was so jealously 
 averse to the intermeddling of other states 
 in their civil broils, that Henry knevv the 
 declared hostility of their northern lieigli- 
 bours would at least have the effect of giving 
 an impetus to their national defences, which 
 advantage he was resolved not to forego, iu 
 case he could not avert the evil of a foreign 
 war. 
 
 There had been an angry spot on James's 
 cheek at the commencement of the Envoy's
 
 THE arM'^urer's daughter. 183 
 
 address, but he offered no interruption, and 
 at the close he replied gravely, 
 
 " Compliance v/ith your first demand 
 accords not with our will, and exceeds our 
 power. England forgets our dignity, and 
 wrongs her own when she asks us to dismiss 
 the guest we have voluntarily received/' 
 
 " May it please your Highness," said Sir 
 Ralph ; '* such a requisition is not without 
 precedent; on this very question Charles of 
 France—" 
 
 "' Is no rule for James of Scotlaiul," in- 
 terrupted the king sharply ; '' It is idle to 
 cite an example we should shame to follo'^v: 
 Charles of France may choose to be dictated 
 to in surh a guise, and become thereby the 
 scoff of Christendom— that is nought to us 
 —urge us no further on this point; you 
 have heard our answer/' 
 
 '' Pardon Sire, if, having delivered the 
 charge of my sovereign, I would fain offer a 
 few words in my own unworthy person. 
 Have I your princely leave?'
 
 184 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 James nodded slightly, and the Envoy 
 continued. 
 
 "As I rode hitherward, pressed with 
 haste, and full of anxious thought, my eye 
 could not but range over the fruitful fields 
 and smiling glens through which my course 
 was bent; will not your Highness ponder 
 well ere you doom so fair a realm to a san- 
 guinary contest, of which the issue must be 
 doubtful?" 
 
 Here the king glanced proudly on his 
 warlike vassals, the bulwarks of his throne. 
 Sir Ralph marked the movement, and aptly 
 changed the theme. 
 
 " And even should success crown your 
 arras, the wail of the orphan and tears of 
 the widow would too late awake remorse for 
 the blood unnecessarily shed. Thinks not 
 your Grace, the sacrifice of human pride to 
 the prosperity of a whole people, will be 
 more pleasing in the sight of Heaven than 
 endowing the church with the spoils of 
 victory ?"
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 185 
 
 At this part of the discourse, James drew 
 closer round him the iron belt which he 
 always wore in penance for his involuntary 
 participator in his father's murder. 
 
 " These manifold evils — the impoverish- 
 ment of a fertile land, the destruction of 
 human life, the curse of the desolate hearth, 
 may be avoided by the exertion of your 
 single will, without abatement of your regal 
 dignity. Give King Henry the meeting he 
 seeks, and in a personal conference your 
 differences will be adjusted; and with one 
 breath will be dispersed the light clouds 
 which have unhappily arisen to impair so 
 noble a fellowship. '' 
 
 The Envoy ceased speaking, and a dead 
 stillness reigned in the hall — the nobles read 
 the indecision on the brow of their sove- 
 reign, and fixed their eyes moodily on*the 
 ground. 
 
 " Leave us for awhile, Sir Ralph," said 
 James, slowly. " We will take counsel of 
 our own heart, before we reject your propo- 
 sal. You have spoken well and boldly;
 
 187 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Henry of England has an able servant in 
 his Envoy. An hour hence we will speak 
 with you again. 
 
 Sir Ralph Wentworth bowed lowly and 
 withdrew; and as he retired, he felt that 
 if the establishment of peace ^vere not 
 yet fully decided, there was every proba- 
 i)ility that the result of his mission would 
 be more favourable than he had dared to 
 hope.
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 186 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DEFIANCE. 
 
 Wide let the news through Scotland ring, 
 The northern eagle claps his wing ! 
 
 Scott. 
 
 After the door had closed on the Envoy, 
 the silence remained unbroken until King 
 James raised his head and scanned the dis- 
 satisfied countenances round him. 
 
 " What think you, my good lord?/' asked
 
 18S THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTliR, 
 
 he, " of the project of this southern emis- 
 sary, that we should give Henry of Eng- 
 land the meeting in our person ? Perchance, 
 it would save some shedding of blood, and 
 much waste of land. Yet, by our lady! 
 ye look not as if the peaceful mood jumped 
 with your humours. Speak, Angus, we 
 will hear what you ^have to say, man, al- 
 though we reserve the arbitrement of the 
 question to ourself. 
 
 The Douglas, notwithstanding his unim- 
 peachable loyalty and acknowledged ser- 
 vices, was scarcely a favourite with 
 James, from his prominent station and 
 the high consideration in which he was 
 held by his fellow barons; he was usually 
 their mouth-piece on all occasions, when 
 they desired to express their dissent from 
 the known will of their sovereign — while 
 his natural independence of character, and 
 ignorance of a courtier's arts, rendered him 
 habitually careless of chafing the monarch's 
 fiery mood — and the manner in which the 
 opposition was tendered, doubled the odium
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 189 
 
 of the act. Tims, on the present occasion 
 James addressed himself to his powerful 
 subject as the readiest means of ascertaining 
 the sentiments of the rest. Bluntly did 
 Douglas answer to the appeal. 
 
 " My liege," said he, " ye have guessed 
 aright, that having mustered our followers 
 and made ready for the field, we mislike 
 much, that such a goodly company should be 
 dispersed without some blood-letting — how- 
 beit, we are bound to conform to the plea- 
 sure of our leader, though it be variable as 
 the wind. Still, when your Grace makes 
 li.ention of a personal conference with 
 Henry of England for the redress of our 
 national grievances, I cannot choose but 
 say, that your Highness' youth and inexpe- 
 rience, would be an ill match for the English 
 king's mature wisdom — like wax would he 
 mould you to his purpose — " 
 
 " l*[ow, by my faith !" angrily interrupted 
 James, " you have overstepped your license. 
 Earl Douglas ; and though you show little 
 reverence for our lack of years, we would
 
 190 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 bid you be wary that you urge not our pa- 
 tience too far, lest you find that Scotland's 
 sceptre has not changed into a distaff, be- 
 cause her king is yet in the prime of 
 youth." 
 
 '' My gracious lord," interposed the Earl 
 of Huntly, " I beseech you, be not over 
 hasty to impute as a failure in respect, 
 a caution, which the service of the state 
 demanded. Douglas could not have in- 
 tended-—'' 
 
 '' Douglas needs no interpreter of his 
 sayings," exclaimed the earl, vehemently. 
 " If I have spoken amiss, it is too late to 
 amend the matter — the wrath that I have 
 aroused, I will abye." 
 
 These words, although they could not 
 be actually termed rebellious, were accom- 
 panied by a look of defiance, which inti- 
 mated how little the speaker heeded whose 
 displeasure he had kindled. 
 
 An angry rejoinder was arrested on the 
 lips of the monarch by a loud outcry pro- 
 ceeding from the ante-chamber; it was as
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 191 
 
 if a general burst of lamentation, echoed 
 by many voices, betokened some tragic oc- 
 currence. Amazed and indignant at so un- 
 exampled a breach of decorum, the Earl of 
 Huntly glided to the door, and half opened 
 it, with a view to obtain some clue to the 
 cause of the uproar, and in the expectation 
 that his movement would call to the recol- 
 lection of those present, the vicinity to the 
 royal presence. Surrounded by a dense 
 circle of anxious faces, stood a man in mili- 
 tary garb, who was, apparently, narrating 
 something which exercised an indescribable 
 influence over the passions of the audi- 
 tory. 
 
 " Tarry no longer," cried Lord Hamilton, 
 the most prominent of the group, in tones 
 so audible, that they could hardly fail to 
 reach the ears of those within the hall. 
 " In to the king — the English Envoy has 
 but now left the presence — the day should 
 not be a second older ere your tale is 
 told.''
 
 192 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 The crowd parted, shouting simultane- 
 ously : 
 
 " To the king ! to the king !" 
 
 And several of the /oung nobles pushed 
 forward, dragging with them, the bearer 
 of the intelligence which had created so 
 violent an agitation. At this moment, the 
 Earl of Huntlj presented himself before 
 them, and authoritatively motioned ^e~tli^m 
 to them to fall back; he was about to 
 close the door, and thus bar their fur- 
 ther progress, when James, with an im- 
 patient brow, left his chair of state and 
 stepped into the centre of the hall, say- 
 ing— 
 
 '' Admit these untimely intruders, cou- 
 sin Huntly, whoever they be — if they 
 have broken on our counsel without suf- 
 ficient warrant, they shall rue their of- 
 fence." 
 
 There was a profound hush of expec- 
 tation as the slightly raised voice of the 
 king fell on the ears of those who thronged
 
 THE armourer's DAUGE7ER. 293 
 
 the gangway ; the crowd wavered for a 
 moment, as if the boldness of their tres- 
 pass had just become apparent — and then 
 Lord Hamilton, Sir Eonald Graham, and 
 some other knights of less distinction, ad- 
 vanced, leading forward the military stran- 
 ger, while the space behind them became 
 gradually filled up by spectators from the 
 ante-chamber. 
 
 '' Ye are over bold, sir !" said James, " in 
 thus forcing yourselves upon us — our de- 
 liberations or concerns of state, should be 
 sacred from your unaiannerly intrusions. 
 Have you no reverence, that you neglect 
 the usual means of approach? When did 
 James Stuart deny himself to the lowliest 
 of his subjects? When did he refuse aid 
 to the afflicted, or justice to the oppressed?" 
 Observing the downcast looks of the group, 
 the royal monitor continued, in a milder 
 tone, " What is this weighty business which 
 must even taken precedence of the affairs 
 of our kingdom? Ye are mute enough now, 
 — will no one answer ?" 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 294 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 The eyes of the party were instantly 
 turned towards the soldier; who, encum- 
 bered with his warlike accoutrements, stood 
 making profound obeisances, too abashed 
 at the scene into which he had been so un- 
 ceremoniously hurried, to render the re- 
 quired explanations. 
 
 The king remarked the awe his presence 
 had inspired; and with the gracious pur- 
 pose of affording the man time to col- 
 lect his scattered faculties, ere he deli- 
 vered himself of his tale, demanded his 
 name/' 
 
 " Jasper Ogilvy, at your Highness' ser- 
 vice,'' was the reply. 
 
 " What wind brought you hither?" asked 
 he monarch, " Whence come you?" 
 
 " Please your Grace, I am captain of the 
 guard at your^Highness' royal castle of Jed- 
 burgh?" 
 
 "Ha! what cheer from the borders? 
 There must be wild work, I trow, for 
 Sir Robert Ker, our trusty and well-be- 
 loved Warden, has" failed us at our
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 195 
 
 raorning's council. Doubtless, you bear 
 his excuse. What says he — why came he 
 notr 
 
 " Noble king," replied the captain of the 
 guard, " the lord Warden will never send 
 message or sit at council more — he has been 
 foully done to death by the English bor- 
 derers, among their own hills, on the day of 
 truce." 
 
 *' Murdered!" gasped James, while a 
 thrill of horror passed through the assem- 
 blage. "Now, by my crown!" continued 
 the monarch as he stamped violently on the 
 ground, and his eye sparkled with pas- 
 sion. " Vengeance bloody and dire will I 
 exact fur this cruel and dastardly deed. 
 My loyal servant ! Never had king a sub- 
 ject more faithful and true. For every 
 hair of his head an Englishman shall die. 
 Where lies his body — how know you your 
 tale is true?" 
 
 " My Liege, a single retainer rode with 
 Sir Robert, when he was beset by the troop 
 of murdering Southerns — after he saw his 
 K 3
 
 196 THE armourer's daughter. • 
 
 leader struck down, the man set spurs to 
 his horse, and fled at the top of his speed 
 to the other side of the Borders, there by 
 good hap he fell in with a few of our Scot- 
 tish riders under Donald Armstrong; he 
 guided them back instantly to the scene 
 of the affray, where they found the lifeless 
 body of our Warden — his assassiiis had 
 disappeared — the honored remains Tvere 
 borne with due ceremony to the castle of 
 Jedburgh, whence the Governor forthwith 
 despatched me with orders not to draw 
 bridle before the sad tidings had been laid 
 before your Grace." 
 
 " Did you discover no traces of those 
 by whom the crime was perpetrated?" 
 asked James in the low, concentrated tones, 
 which indicate the intensity of passion 
 with far more certainty than the most 
 violent outward ebullitions. 
 
 The captain of the guard drew from 
 his doublet a glove, which he presented to 
 the King with a profound and reverential 
 inclination.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 197 
 
 " This," said he, " was found on the 
 breast of the murdered man, in token that 
 the doer of the traitorous deed shames not 
 to avow his guilt." 
 
 " This glove belongs to the left hand," 
 observed the monarch, carefully examining 
 the embroidered cognizance. '* How saj 
 you, cousin Huntly, whose felon hand owns 
 this glove?" 
 
 The Earl thus appealed to, glanced slightly 
 on the device, then instantly replied : 
 
 " The Bastard Heron's," and the glove 
 was passed from hand to hand, and all with 
 one voice corroborated the testimony, 
 
 '" Xow," said James with dignity, " that 
 we have been enlightened as to the nature 
 of the peace which Henry of England de- 
 sires to cement, we will again admit his 
 Envoy, and bid him tell his master that 
 though these fair realms be doomed to float 
 in blood, we will not leave our subject's 
 death unavenged." 
 
 In obedience to an intimation from the 
 monarch, the officials departed to re-sum-
 
 198 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 mon Sir Ealph Wentworth. At this mo- 
 ment the Earl of Douglas approached, and 
 bending a knee, which seldom bowed to 
 anything mortal, he took his sovereign's 
 hand and pressed it to his lips. 
 
 " Pardon, my Liege,'' said he, if mj 
 rugged mood showed a lack of reverence 
 which the heart of Douglas can never feel. 
 Will your Grace forget what passed but 
 now, and only remember that if James 
 Stuart wills to resent a wrong, there is 
 one life that would gladly be laid down in 
 his cause.'^ 
 
 James was touched with the submission 
 of his mighty vassal, and raising him from 
 the ground, said earnestly : 
 
 " Xoble Angus, we have never mistrusted 
 you — curb your frowardness of speech, and 
 the annals of our reign will bear record of 
 you as a man whom his sovereign honored 
 as a leader, and valued as a friend." 
 
 In the interval that elapsed previous to 
 the entrance of Sir Ealph, the King re- 
 turned to his chair of state, and his cour-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 199 
 
 tiers formed a brilliant circle round him, 
 while those who had passed in from the 
 outer chamber, finding their intrusion met 
 with no further check, ranged themselves 
 in a line down the spacious hall, in order to 
 witness the ensuing scene. As Sir Ealph 
 Wentworth won his way through the en- 
 circling ranks, he could not fail to mark the 
 changed appearance of things, but without 
 seemiug to notice the fiery glances directed 
 towards him, he stood once more before the 
 Scottish King. 
 
 *' We engaged that you should not tarry 
 long for our answer," commenced James, 
 "this is it — war — fierce and deadly as the 
 aggressions of which we have to complain 
 — war to the death. Fire and flame may 
 desolate our kingdom, yet these we prefer 
 to the assassin's steel." 
 
 " Has your Highness then rejected the 
 personal conference?" enquired Sir Ralph. 
 
 " Grood faith !" replied the king, " we 
 owe you thanks for the offer, Sir Envoy. 
 But we would sooner trust our person in a
 
 200 THE armourer's DAUGHTEB. 
 
 den of wild beasts, than with Henry of 
 England and his treacherous subjects/' 
 
 " Please jour Highness," said the English 
 knight, '^ I am a plain man, and read no 
 riddles. Will your Grace deign to explain 
 the cause." 
 
 " Learn it then," thundered James, " the 
 murder of Sir Eobert Iver, our Lord War- 
 den, by your traitorous Borderers — our own 
 friend whom we would have given our 
 right hand to save — the bravest, truest, 
 most devoted — " James paused for a mo- 
 ment in uncontrolable emotion, and then 
 added more calmly — '' This deed has been 
 done by one of the Herons, a near kinsman 
 to your own Warden. To express a doubt 
 is useless— an eye-witness has assured us 
 of the fact. Return then to your master, 
 Sir Ralph, and tell him we shall soon cross 
 the Borders in other fashion than he looks 
 for." 
 
 *' Sire, if you would but accord me time," 
 urged the Envoy, '' to communicate with 
 the court at London, something might yet
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 201 
 
 be done in this unhappy affair. I would 
 pledge my life there is no reasonable com- 
 pensation that Henry would deny for so 
 grievous a wrong." 
 
 " We can accord nothing further," an- 
 swered the monarch. " Our wounded honor 
 lies bleeding, and we shall ourselves avenge 
 it. The sword has left our scabbard, and. 
 Heaven be our witness! shall not be 
 sheathed until your lord Warden, Sir Wil- 
 liam Heron, the head of his house, is 
 brought before us dead or alive, that we 
 may deal with his body as his kinsman has 
 done to that of Sir Robert Ker. We grieve 
 to play the niggard host. Sir Ealph, but we 
 would counsel you, after needful repose, to 
 hasten back with what speed you may, or 
 we may chance to be our own herald." 
 
 By an imperious wave of the hand, 
 James intimated that the audience was 
 over, and thus closed this memorable in- 
 terview, from which the actors retired with 
 very different sentiments. The moment 
 that the Envoy heard the nature of the
 
 202 THE AEMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 transgression that had been committed, he 
 abandoned all hopes of peace— the surren- 
 der of the culprits would not have been 
 deemed sufficient atonement — for setting 
 aside the private feelings and public mo- 
 tives of James himself, in those days when 
 a mortal feud was handed down from ge- 
 neration to generation as a natural heir- 
 loom, it could hardly be expected that the 
 kin&folk of the murdered man would rest 
 contented while one of their enemies' race 
 remained unsubdued; and on the other 
 band it could not be looked for, that a 
 powerful family like the Herons should sub- 
 mit to indignity in the person of its chief, 
 on account of an offence perpetrated by one 
 of its branches; it was certainly within 
 the range of possibility that they might 
 not shield the offenders, but voluntarily 
 they could not be induced to take any steps 
 for a reconciliation to which they w^ere in- 
 different. To comply, therefore, with the 
 only demands to which the Scottish King 
 -would listen, involved a more arbitrary
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 203 
 
 Stretch of authority than Henry dared to 
 hazard on the eve of a general insurrection, 
 which had for its declared object the res- 
 toration of the former dynasty. Under 
 these circumstances war was inevitable. Al- 
 though James mourned the loss of his fa- 
 vorite, and burned to avenge it, he was noG 
 on the whole dissatisfied v.'ith the complex- 
 ion afitiirs had assumed; when solemnly 
 appealed to, he would have resigned his 
 personal wishes to his kingdom's weal, and 
 signed an inglorious peace, wh'ch must have 
 shut him out from all hope of distinction 
 in martial achievements, but how much 
 more willingly did he persuade himself 
 that duty leaned to the side of inclination, 
 and his whole mind was now occupied with 
 arrangements for his march southward. 
 
 The Earl of Douglas rode away from the 
 council at the head of his numerous follow- 
 ers, with a grim smile relaxing his iron fea- 
 tures, as he laid his hand on his cumbrous 
 sword^ and thought how soon it might be 
 drawn against his old Border enemies j and
 
 204 THE armourer's daughter, 
 
 the lowest squire in his train shared, in some 
 degree, in the joy of his lord. 
 
 There was yet another who watched the 
 proceedings of the day with the keenest 
 interest. Father Hubert had pressed into 
 the audience-hall with the rest, and unob- 
 served, had taken his position in the back- 
 ground, where he listened to the final dis- 
 missal of the Envoy, with a triumph of heart 
 which he contrived to conceal from every 
 eye. War was declared with England — = 
 his darling project would receive the aid of 
 Scotland ; in anticipation he already revel- 
 led in success ; his pupil, the puppet he had 
 created, would fill the throne, while the 
 obscure priest would sway the destinies of 
 England — such at least were the aspira- 
 tions of his ambitious mind, as with slow 
 step and thoughtful brow he withdrew from 
 the council- chamber.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE heron's haunt. 
 
 If misfortune comes, she brings along 
 
 The bravest virtues. 
 
 Thomson^ 
 
 We must now return to the Border-fortress, 
 where Yiola Hatherton watches with un-^ 
 utterable anguish the ebbing life of her 
 parent and only friend. Since the unhappy 
 evening which terminated the existence of 
 Sir Eobert Ker, the utmost vigilance, that 
 human foresight could suggest, had beeu
 
 206 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 exercised in the Heron's Haunt, to guard 
 against surprise ; conscious as was its Cliief 
 that the whole force of a powerful kingdom 
 might be levied at any moment for his des- 
 truction, while in the case of sudden extre- 
 mity, he scarce dared to rely on the aid of 
 his kinsman, the English Warden, or any 
 other of his allies, so abhorrent was an ag- 
 gression committed on a day of truce, in the 
 eyes of every true man. 
 
 A deep-seated gloom now constantly 
 overshadowed his brow, and no traces were 
 to be seen of that blithe hilarity which, 
 added to his dauntless courage and unprece- 
 dented successes, attached his followers to 
 him in no ordinary degree. The military 
 duties of the castle were carried on with 
 more than usual precision, but in compara- 
 tive silence, that the last moments of old 
 Nicholas Hatherton might pass away un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 X day previous to the Border truce, Sir 
 Ralph Wentworth and his scanty tr-.iin 
 passed into Scotland, arid it was generally
 
 THE AKMOURER^S DAtJGHTER. 207 
 
 known that his object was the establi.sh- 
 ment of a permanent peace between the two 
 countries. The Chief awaited with restless 
 anxiety the result of his mission. Should 
 war be declared, he might well hope that 
 his sovereign would bury the remembrance 
 of his offence under the weight of new ser- 
 vices; but on the other hand, if a fair and 
 equitable peace should be decided on — what 
 would be his fate ? The English King could 
 not then deny to the Majesty of Scotland 
 the retribution that would naturally be de- 
 manded. Branded as an outlaw, hunted to 
 the death, with the hand of ev^ery man 
 raised against him ; was such indeed the 
 destiny reserved for the gallant Chief whose 
 chivalrous sense of honor, and inviolable 
 faith had ever been prominent among the 
 irregularities of a Border life. Guiltless 
 as he was of the blood of Sir Robert Ker, 
 was not the act committed in his defence? 
 and the unchecked vehemence witli which 
 he had yielded to the impulse of the mo- 
 ment, and rushed to an affrav he was almost
 
 208 THE ARMOURER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 bound to shun, caused him many a pang of 
 secret self-reproach. 
 
 With folded arms and closely-knit brow, 
 the Bastard Heron paced the short terrace 
 on the top of the keep — it was the fourth 
 day since the passage of Sir Ealph Went- 
 worth into Scotland, no tidings from the 
 Court at Edinburgh had reached that re- 
 mote district — by whom had the Warden's 
 body been found, and whither had it been 
 conveyed? The feeling of lingering sus- 
 pense was becoming intolerable, and he 
 resolved at all hazards to terminate it. In 
 truth, the English Envoy had already re- 
 turned to his own country, by an unfre- 
 quented pass, far distant from the Heron's 
 Haunt, the route being less circuitous, and 
 the roughness of the ground proving an 
 impediment to Sir Ralph's rapid advance. 
 
 In those days the circulation of public 
 intelligence was attended with great uncer- 
 tainty; sometimes rumour with her thou- 
 sand tongues spread it through the land 
 with the swiftness of the wind, and then
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 209 
 
 again an event of peculiar interest might 
 by chance be withheld from those it most 
 nearly concerned. On the present occasion 
 the murder of Sir Robert Ker filled every 
 bosom with consternation and dismay, and 
 fearing it would be the fore-runner of some 
 general outbreak, the Borderers of both 
 kingdoms repaired to their respective 
 strongholds, to superintend their means of 
 defence. 
 
 For the hundredth time the Border Chief 
 paused in his weary walk, and looked 
 abroad on the landscape beneath him — no 
 human figure could he descry — so deep was 
 his reverie that he heard not his own name 
 uttered in gentle accents close beside him, 
 and it was not until a small white hand 
 timidly touched his arm that he turned, and 
 beheld the graceful form of Viola Ilather- 
 ton. So lovely was the face presented un- 
 expectedly to his view, that John Heron 
 might well be excused if he fancied for one 
 moment that his guardian angel had visibly
 
 210 THE AKMOURER's DAUGHTER. 
 
 descended to offer consolation to bis troubled 
 spirit. Tbe soft dark ejes beamed with 
 tender resignation, and if a slowly gather- 
 ing tear occasionally overshadowed their 
 brightness, it was forced back to its secret 
 cell, to steal forth only when there was none 
 to witness — the setting sun threw a richer 
 glow over cheek and brow, and the warm 
 rosy lips were perfect in form and colour. 
 The maiden had been watching for many 
 anxious hours by her father's sick couch, 
 and had only withdrawn from her sorrow- 
 ful task to find the lord of that isolated 
 hold, and entreat that a confessor might be 
 sought to receive her parent's last shrift. 
 When this suit was ended, the chief paused, 
 ere he made reply ; and fearing a denial, 
 Viola added, with simple earnestness, 
 
 '' I beseech you, sir, deny not so poor a 
 boon to one whose minutes are numbered ; 
 this is the last grace that mortal power may 
 yet accord." 
 
 '' Fair mistress," rejoined the Borderer,
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 21 1 
 
 " you mistake John Heron, if you think 
 he would not risk life and limb to do you a 
 pleasure. If I hesitated, it was to ponder 
 how your wish might best meet fulfilment. 
 Well can I avouch no priest will be found 
 nigher than Norham Castle, and that is dis- 
 tant more than a score of miles, as the crow 
 flies — Father Paul will not venture on a 
 lone ride among these wild hills, until the 
 sun is up to light his way, and then, I fear, 
 he will demand an escort — these are trou- 
 blous times, and any one who sets much 
 store by his span of life, would do more 
 wisely to sit in the chimney nook, and tell 
 his beads, than issue forth where a false 
 Scot might choose to exercise his archery 
 upon a living target. But droop not. Mis- 
 tress Yiola, I will myself do your errand." 
 
 " Nay !" commenced the maiden, hur- 
 riedly, " if there be aught of peril — " 
 
 " There is none but what a ready ear, 
 quick eye, and strong arm may avert. And 
 I am not right sure that a death-blow in
 
 212 THE AKMOURER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 some honourable field would not be the 
 best boon I could now desire — at least it 
 might save from a worse fate/' 
 
 So deep was the tone of melancholy with 
 which these words were pronounced, that 
 Viola Hatherton, who, her mission being 
 fulfilled, had already retreated a few paces 
 in her anxiety to rejoin her father, could 
 not refrain from turning hastily round to 
 glance on the speaker. Her eye quickly 
 traced the air of despondency visibly im- 
 printed on his features, and her heart smote 
 her as she reflected that in the overwhelm- 
 ing sense of her own approaching bereave- 
 ment, she had forgotten that in rescuing 
 her from outrage, a heavy penalty had been 
 incurred by her preserver — for such she 
 deemed him — although no further injury 
 was intended her than the perpetration of a 
 foolish jest, it was not singular that in so 
 lawless an age, her apprehensions had 
 assumed the most fearful character. The 
 exact particulars of the case had not been
 
 THE AEMOURER'S DAUGHTER. 213 
 
 made known to lier, but she fully recognised 
 that her persecutor was of high rank, and 
 his death would be terribly avenged. As 
 these thoughts rapidly crossed her mind, 
 she returned to the Borderer's side. 
 
 *' Xoble sir," said she, " if the protection 
 of the helpless has placed you in danger, 
 let the brave heart which led you on then, 
 still bear you up against the worst that 
 may betide — my poor thanks are all I can 
 render for your priceless service, and though 
 it had been far better that this worthless 
 life should be spent, than that you should 
 be thrust in so fearful a jeopardy, 1 know 
 well your nobleness will not think so — there- 
 fore speak no more so despairingly, it be- 
 comes not the manhood of which you are 
 reputed to have given such gallant proof." 
 
 '' Bravely spoken !" exclaimed the chief, 
 and his eye sparkled and his heart beat in 
 quick echo to a reproof which chimed in 
 exactly with his peculiar temperament, 
 and habitual train of associations. *' And
 
 114 THE aemourer's daughter. 
 
 yet, kind maiden, it would be wise to probe 
 the wound ere you attempt the cure. Be- 
 lieve not that John Heron cares a rush for 
 this feud with the Scotch, but the blood 
 shed on that hapless night has affixed a 
 stain to me, nothing can efface — on a day 
 of truce, held inviolate by the most auda- 
 cious freebooters, I have entered into an 
 affray with the Warden of the Scottish 
 Marches, struck him down as he rode with- 
 out retinue on our English land, whither 
 he had ventured to hold conference with 
 our own Warden — turn the tale as you will, 
 'tis a deed that unborn ages will learn to 
 curse — my very blood curdles when I think 
 on't. 'Tis as though I murdered a guest on 
 my own hearth-stone. And all this evil 
 might have been avoided, had I governed 
 my violent mood, and treated Sir Robert 
 Ker with the consideration that was doubly 
 his due. I am not the coward to shrink 
 from the dangers of the fate I have invoked ; 
 but to walk evermore with the mark of
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 215 
 
 shame branded on my brow — it is tbis that 
 unmans me." 
 
 '' 'Tis a sore trial," murmured Yiobi, 
 " yet if there was no eye-witness save a 
 single retainer, how know you that your 
 person was recognised, and the deed traced 
 to you?" 
 
 " Because," said the Borderer, proudly, 
 " I placed my gauntlet on the dead body 
 that no other might suffer for my transgres- 
 sion — had the matter remained doubtful, 
 the whole Border might have been harried 
 ere this. The Scots have now learned on 
 whom to direct their vengeance — I must 
 bide the brunt alone." 
 
 There was a rude nobility in the senti- 
 ments of the Chief that involuntarily won 
 the admiration of the armourer's daughter, 
 and she was about to renew the discourse, 
 when an aged crone, whom she had left in 
 attendance on her father during her own 
 temporary absence, made her appearance, 
 and indicated that old Hatherton had twice 
 called for his child. "With a hasty step
 
 216 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 she instantly disappeared — the Borderer 
 suppressed a struggling sigh as he gazed 
 after her, and then descended to the outer 
 court, where he found Robin Starhed and 
 several of his young comrades engaged in 
 leaping, wrestling, and other military exer- 
 cises, tle'r sole diversion when the mimic 
 war was not exchanged for the stern 
 reality. 
 
 Starhed's bearing had resumed its usual 
 quiet assurance since the murder of Sir 
 Robert Ker, in which he at least had been 
 a wilful agent — with that callous indif- 
 ference to all moral responsibility which 
 characterized him, he entertained no re- 
 morse, and only felt that the foe who had 
 outraged him, no longer drew breath ; and 
 his step was lighter, and his sleep more 
 calm in consequence. At times in the 
 midst of his inward triumph, the instinc- 
 tive attachment that bound him to his 
 chief, would make him pause to consider if 
 the act of vengeance that weighed so little 
 on his soul, might not exercise an evil in-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 217 
 
 fluence on the fortunes of his leader; with 
 the careless elasticity of youth, he quickly 
 shook off the presentiment. 
 
 By a mute signal John Heron summoned 
 Starhed to his side, and bade him see that 
 his horse was saddled an hour before day- 
 break, with a couple of stout retainers 
 ready equipped to accompany him. 
 
 '' I would gladly ride in your train," said 
 the youth earnestly. 
 
 " 'Tis but to escort Father Paul hither 
 from Norham Castle, and his reverence, 
 who has such a marvellous regard for his 
 goodly person, would prefer as a bulwark 
 some of our more burly Eiders.^' 
 
 " In sooth ! I care not to make one," an- 
 swered Starhed, " when the object of the 
 expedition is to play guard over a cowardly 
 priest. What horse will it please you to 
 ride?'' 
 
 " The roan — speed and endurance may 
 both be put to the test — having secured 
 the services of Father Paul, i shall part 
 company with the others In truth, Rob, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 I cannot rest since that luckless affair, and 
 intend to seek tidings at Edinburgh, ere 
 another sun sets." 
 
 The Chief turned away, and Starhed 
 returned no more to his companions, but 
 walked aloof, and seemed lost in thought.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 219 
 
 CHAPTEF. XV. 
 
 FATHER PAUL. 
 
 Where is to-morrow 1 In another worlds 
 For numbers this is certain : the reverse 
 Is sure to none. 
 
 YOTJKG. 
 
 Long before daybreak, John Heron was in 
 the saddle, and attended by three sturdy 
 retainers, took the road to Norhara Castle. 
 A heavy mist hung like a shroud over the 
 earth, a chilling sleet penetrated to the 
 L 2
 
 220 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 skin, and as he looked around, the gloom 
 without responded well to the gloom within. 
 There are moments, when the spirit is op- 
 pressed with a weight of despondency, and 
 a deep dejection clouds the burdened mind, 
 that the glorious sunbeam lighting up the 
 face of rejoicing nature, seems but to mock 
 the despairing heart with its triumphant 
 splendours — when the bleak hill, the rug- 
 ged path, and the whistling gale are all in 
 consonance with the troubled mood, and 
 the traveller feels that life is a struggle 
 wherein the difficulties and dangers are 
 many, and the course seldom runs smooth. 
 So thought the Chief as he sped onward. 
 The first gleam of light had scarcely bro- 
 ken in the east, when by good hap he 
 descried, at some short distance, the fat, 
 rotund figure of Father Paul, bestriding a 
 well-fed mule — to overtake him was the 
 work of a moment. The worthy man was 
 journeying back to Norham Castle, having 
 been absent for some days, as he said, on 
 an errand of mercy, and certes it had passed
 
 THE armourer's DAUGRMiR. 22 L 
 
 into a proverb that his visits were longest 
 where the ale was the strongest. 
 
 Nought had he heard of the murdered 
 Warden, and the chance of a feud with 
 Scotland, or the jovial priest would not 
 have been raet rambling through the coun- 
 try in so lonely a manner. The necessary 
 explanations having been made. Father 
 Paul was easily induced to yield to the 
 Borderer's solicitations, and prepared to 
 return with the attendants to the Heron's 
 Haunt, while the Chief himself, after a few 
 brief orders, turned his horse's bridle 
 northward in a line of route totally dif- 
 ferent from that which the party had been 
 hitherto pursuing. 
 
 Dick Lilburn, for one of the Border- 
 riders was no other than our old friend, 
 looked long after his leader, and his glance 
 continued strained in the same direction, even 
 when his form had lessened to a speck in the 
 distance — at last, he resettled himself in the 
 saddle with a puzzled air, and shaking his 
 head, he muttered in an under tone,
 
 222 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 " See, what a slippery jade fancy is ! I 
 could have sworn that 1 caught sight of 
 Robin Starhed's diminutive figure gliding 
 after our chief like a second shadow; but 
 it cannot be, and I must have been be- 
 witched for such an idea to cross my 
 brain." 
 
 And as he spoke, he applied himself to 
 urging forward the priest's mule — which 
 self-willed animal did by no means approve 
 of the retrogade movement, inasmuch, as 
 it did not understand that the present road 
 would conduct them to good quarters as, 
 speedily as their former destination. Fa- 
 ther Paul was soon engaged in discourse with 
 his escort; to him it was a matter of indiffer- 
 ence into whose companionship he was 
 thrown, provided hib ready tongue could 
 find a willing listener. 
 
 '■ Mayhap," asked the other retainer; 
 " your reverence has heard some fresh tid- 
 ings of the lying young mummer who has 
 stuck a white rose in his cap, and goes by
 
 THE ARMOUREE's DAUGHTER. 223 
 
 the name of Eichard of York, when we all 
 know the poor young princes were smother- 
 ed years agone by their crooked-backed un- 
 cle. ' 
 
 " I trow," replied the priest, " that those 
 who march in his train, will find themselves 
 a head shorter some fine day." 
 
 " And yet," interposed Lilburn, " they 
 do say many gentlemen of mark and birth, 
 moved by the ancient allegiance, have flock- 
 ed to Edinburgh to do homage to the im- 
 postor. 'Tis pity that so false a knave 
 should have the power to lure men on to 
 destruction." 
 
 " This rebellion," said the priest; ''is a 
 foul disease spreading far and wide. I fear 
 me, the leprosy must be cut out, lest it eat 
 into the he«rt of the land. Still the rebel 
 camp contains several whom I pity and 
 esteem; one youth in especial, whom I have 
 known long and hold high in love — brave, 
 and gentle, frank, and courteous, true and 
 quick-w^itted, is Maurice Vipont, and a like- 
 lier lad never trod the sward."
 
 224 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 " Maurice Vipont/' echoed Lilburn, " that 
 is no Border name." 
 
 " He comes from the midland country, 
 and has sojourned, for weeks together, at 
 Norham Castle, and now the head-strong 
 boy has gone to offer his sword and service 
 to this mad adventurer. Sorely do I grieve 
 for his folly. Gently, Surefoot, gently ! A 
 murrain take take- the beast ! one would 
 think he was possessed by an evil 
 
 spirit.'^ 
 
 And here a violent contention ensued be- 
 tween the mule and his rider, which cut short 
 further con verse,and continued until the party 
 drew up before the embattled gates of the 
 Heron's Haunt. With all due speed. Father 
 Paul was assisted to dismount, and guided 
 to the darkened apartment .where the 
 anxious Viola was keeping her weary 
 watch. 
 
 Dick Lilburn had no sooner attended to the 
 wants of his horse, than with his accus- 
 tomed deliberate pace, he proceeded to make
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 225 
 
 search for his young comrade, Eobin Star, 
 hed, but his quest was fruitless, the youth 
 was nowhere to be found, and all enquiries 
 on the subject were equally vain, as no one 
 had noted his egress from the fortress. 
 Not even the mid-day meal had power to 
 divert the mind of the Border-rider from 
 his topic of wonder; and no sooner was that 
 important ceremony concluded, than he 
 betook himself to the outer court, where he 
 encountered Giles Hurst, his companion in 
 the expedition of that morning. 
 
 '• They do say," commenced Giles, " that 
 the Fire-fly has made a moonlight flitting 
 of it. Pray heaven he has given no one 
 a stab in the dark — for sure a more fiery 
 spirit never fretted and chafed in a frailer 
 body." 
 
 *' He is a bold lad and a shrewd," an- 
 swered Lilburn ; '' and I will be his war- 
 ranty that he will be back ere his turn of 
 duty comes." 
 
 " Ay ! you were ever ready to stand by 
 L 5
 
 226 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 him in his mad pranks; but I tell you 
 plainly, friend Lilburn, I see no merit in 
 this young springald you set such store by, 
 with his talk of gentle blood, and hand on 
 his dagger for the first wry word — so 1 will 
 leave you on the look out for his return — 
 and e'en go drink a health to pretty Janet 
 of the mill/' 
 
 Giles Hurst was a young man of athle- 
 tic proportions, with an uncommonly good- 
 humoured countenance, and. intelligence 
 and energy rather superior to most of his 
 class. Dick Lilburn's looks expressed con- 
 siderable dissatisfaction at the other's opin- 
 ion of his favorite, but his reply was pre- 
 vented by the appearance of Father Paul, 
 who advanced with an air of unusual gra- 
 vity. 
 
 " Has your reverence shrived the peni- 
 tent?" inquired the Border-rider. 
 
 " Happily I was not too late," said the 
 priest, " his spirit has but now passed away, 
 and the poor maiden is grievously overcome.
 
 THE ARMOUREE's DAUGHTER. 227 
 
 Know jou any discreet person, of her own 
 sex, who may tend her in these first mo- 
 ments of sorrow ? Your garrison contains 
 but one old crone, whose duties are already 
 too numerous/^ 
 
 " There is Janet, the miller's niece/' ex- 
 claimed Hurst, eagerly. " Eight sure am 
 I, that she would be blithe to come on this 
 errand of charity, I will step there forth- 
 with, and ask her presence." 
 
 " Be it as you say — you will be doing a 
 good office/' said Father Paul, moving 
 slowly away to return to the chamber of 
 death. 
 
 Tn this world of hidden motives, it will 
 often occur that commendation is received 
 for acts of kindness, mainly suggested by 
 our own inclination. I cannot say if this 
 struck Giles Hurst as he hurried out of the 
 side wicket, and proceeded on his mis- 
 sion. 
 
 Liiburn had followed his comrade, and was 
 ibout to close the postern behind him, when
 
 228 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 his eye fell on an old man, whose dress and 
 appearance were squalid in the extreme, 
 and who was seated at a short distance off 
 on the stump of a fallen tree, apparently 
 resting himself after a long march, or wait- 
 ing to get speech of some one at the castle ; 
 probably the latter — for as Hurst strode by 
 he made an effort to speak, which the other, 
 full of the object he had in view, did not 
 heed. 
 
 "Whom seek you, friend?" shouted Lil- 
 burn, having surveyed the stranger for a 
 moment. 
 
 " I would speak with one Master 
 Hatherton," replied the old man ; " I 
 have traced him hither, and would ask 
 him somewhat it much concerns me to 
 know." 
 
 '* I grieve to say you are too late. 
 The man you seek, died within the 
 hour!" 
 
 And the Border-rider shut the wicket — 
 for, at that instant, the voice of Father 
 Paul summoned him from within.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 229 
 
 The old man eyed the closed gate wist- 
 fully, and then, with an air of bitter dis- 
 appointment, turned his steps from the dark 
 fortress.
 
 230 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE. 
 
 On each adventure rash he roved 
 As danger for itself he loved. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 At a late hour in the evening, a travel- 
 ler entered the fair city of Edinburgh; 
 he was clad in a suit of plain broad 
 cloth — such as a steady citizen might 
 be supposed to choose for his usual attire; 
 and his sober cloak was drawn carefully
 
 THE ARMOURER^S DAUGHTER. 231 
 
 round him, while his well-knit frame, his 
 erect bearing, and the manner in which he 
 guided his powerful roan horse, did not ex- 
 actly harmonize with his peaceful habili- 
 ments. The darkness of the hour prevent- 
 ed his person from being too closely scanned 
 as he threaded the well-peopled streets; 
 and, at length, directing his course to the 
 meaner quarters of the town ; he proceeded 
 up a narrow alley, without a thoroughfare, 
 and dismounting, led his steed across a 
 long fore-court, where the weeds and tan- 
 gled grass grew in considerable profusion, 
 presenting a most desolate appearance, and 
 testifying to the neglect or poverty of the 
 proprietor. After knocking repeatedly with 
 the heavy handle of his whip at the ricketty 
 door, the stranger's patience gave way, and 
 he was about to put in practise more forci- 
 ble measures, when the door was suddenly 
 unbarred from within, and an ungainly, 
 ill-contrived figure of a man, with nether 
 hose that scarcely fitted the limbs they co- 
 vered, stood at the portal.
 
 232 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 '* What may you be pleased to lack?" he 
 inquired in a surly tone. 
 
 " A few words with yourself, Ralph Mul- 
 ton/' replied the stranger. 
 
 *' Ha! whose voice is that? But no! 
 it cannot be !'^ 
 
 " John Heron, you would say, old neigh- 
 bour. Yes, ^tis T ! You should know me 
 well — unless, with the rest of the world, you 
 mislike a friend's face when it is under a 
 cloud." 
 
 " Heart sore am I, to see you here. Who 
 would thrust his head in the jaws of a lion 
 thirsting for blood?'' 
 
 " You give me but a sorry welcome," re- 
 turned the Borderer, half smiling at the 
 other's visible distress. 
 
 '* No good can come of such a risk. Know 
 you not that the Scottish King marches 
 into England ere the week is out? and a 
 power of gold he has promised to any one 
 who shall bring him your head ?" 
 
 " They must first take it," exclaimed 
 the Chief; although with instinctive cau-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 233 
 
 tion, he dropped his voice a full half 
 tone. 
 
 " That will be no difficult matter, if you 
 run into su h fearful straights for nought. 
 Was ever venture so unlucky !'' 
 
 " Eail not at fortune. Think what luck 
 is mine, that while I hear a price is placed 
 upon my life, I lay my hand on the shoulder 
 of a true man, who would run some hazard 
 to serve me.'' 
 
 " Small merit is mine for any service I 
 could render you — good reason is there that 
 all of my kin should stand by you in fair 
 weather or foul. I can never forget that 
 night when you saved us all from fire and 
 death." 
 
 " Never mind that bygone tale. But 
 tell me whom have you within the house 
 at the present moment ?' 
 
 And then followed Ealph Multon's long 
 winded explanations, showing that he was 
 possessed of a prying landlady, whose 
 curiosity was fully equalled by her assur- 
 ance ; her sex forbade her being thrown out
 
 234 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 of window ; and a trifling arrear of rent 
 placed him more completely in her power; 
 her eye would now have been upon them, 
 had she not retired to enjoy her evening 
 nap, while Ralph was about to pay a visit 
 to his sister's husband, who was one of the 
 yeomen of the kitchen at the palace at 
 Holyrood House. 
 
 " I will walk with you there," said the 
 Borderer, decidedly. " Since I may not 
 refresh myself under this roof, your kins- 
 man will doubtless let me taste his fare, for 
 to speak truth, I am half famished." 
 
 After sundry doleful ejaculations from 
 Ralph on the score of the other's rashness, 
 the horse was fastened up in a partly 
 ruinous shed, which occupied one corner 
 of the fore-court, and then the strangely 
 assorted companions took their way to 
 Hlyrood House. On the road Ralph Mul- 
 ton, with much circumlocution, imparted to 
 the Borderer the intelligence he was so soli- 
 citous to obtain — the discovery of Sir Ro- 
 bert Ker's body, and its transportation to
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 235 
 
 Jedburgh; the reception of the English 
 Envoy, and the active preparations that 
 were making throughout the land for imme- 
 diate hostilities. 
 
 These latter tidings gladdened the heart 
 of the chief; a war between the two coun- 
 tries, that might enable him to distinguish 
 himself in the cause of his sovereign, would 
 place him at the summit of his wishes, and 
 surely his zeal and devotion w^ould purchase 
 amnesty for the late unfortunate transac- 
 tion. 
 
 Twilight had deepened into the darkness 
 of night as our adventurers passed into the 
 palace by one of the back entrances, and 
 Ralph having found his kinsman, the Chief 
 was conducted to a small apartment, where 
 the others quitted him with directions to 
 abide patiently their return, as his detec- 
 tion would be attended with serious conse- 
 quences to him, or to themselves — promis- 
 ing to bring him forthwith a supply of pro- 
 visions for the fortification of the inner 
 man.
 
 236 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 Left to his own thoughts, the pictures 
 that glided before his imagination v>^ere 
 colored by hope; projects of daring achieve- 
 ments filled his brain; he would yet strike 
 a blow that should leave men something 
 else to talk of than his share in a cowardly 
 assassination. 
 
 The Borderer's fit of musing was sud- 
 denly disturbed by the sound of voices, 
 laughter, and many footsteps, plainly di- 
 recting their course to the chamber in which 
 he was concealed. His first impulse was 
 to secure the door, but neither bolt nor bar 
 could be found, and without the loss of a 
 moment, he sprang through a door at the 
 other end of the room, and darting up a 
 narrow passage, paused to listen. The 
 voices were still behind him, and the glim- 
 mer of a light at the extremity of the cor- 
 ridor showed that the party was approach- 
 ing, although he had apparently not been 
 seen. 
 
 With a stealthy step he proceeded on- 
 ward, not knowing whither he went, and
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 237 
 
 little caring, provided he could only once 
 more reach the outer air. 
 
 Wherever he heard the signs of any hu- 
 man being in the vicinity, he turned im- 
 mediately in a contrary direction; many 
 Avere the stairs he ascended, and the passages 
 he crossed, sometimes in total darkness, and 
 at other times lighted by a flambeau thrust 
 down a niche in the walL At length he 
 came to a pause in a small ante-chamber, 
 which evidently led to the more private 
 apartments of the royal dwelling. Straight 
 before him was a door slightly ajar, and the 
 murmur of voices told the room beyond was 
 occupied. 
 
 Placing himself close to the aperture, 
 tliC cheerful light of a lamp suspended 
 from the ceiling, enabled him clearly to 
 observe what was passing within. The 
 room was of moderate dimensions, and 
 shelves filled with manuscripts covered the 
 walls. A young man, with a bright hazel 
 eye, and princely mein, reclined at full 
 length in an easy chair; he was splendidly
 
 238 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 attired, as if about to join some scene of 
 revelry, and he was speaking with consider- 
 able earnestness to another individual who 
 stood before him, in an attitude of deep 
 reverence, l^either usher nor herald were 
 needed to assure the Bastard Heron that 
 James Stuart was before him; by instinct 
 he recognized the fact, and had he doubted 
 it, the ensuing conversation would have set 
 the matter at rest. 
 
 " Sir Andrew Ker," said the Monarch, 
 " we cannot say how truly we have 
 mourned your noble-hearted father. That 
 he did his devoir as a gallant knight and 
 faithful subject we shall be ever willing to 
 avouch ; his valour in the field, his upright 
 judgment, and unswerving truth are all 
 known to us, and we shall never cease to 
 deplore the dastardly deed for which we 
 have refused compensation, and plunged 
 our kingdom in a foreign war." 
 
 Andrew Ker bore a strong personal re- 
 semblance to the murdered Warden ; and 
 notwithstanding his extreme youth, he was
 
 THE ARMOUEEr's DAUGHTER. 239 
 
 already distinguished by the same tenacity 
 of purpose, and unalterable firmnes? of 
 resolution that had characterized his 
 parent. 
 
 " I humbly thank your Grace for your 
 many kindnesses," returned the young 
 man. ''To hear my dead father's praises 
 from your lips, is the greatest consolation 
 left to me." 
 
 '* My good friend, we will not be content 
 to bewail his loss, we will avenge it. When 
 our armies cross the frontier, this base- 
 born Heron cannot continue to cheat the 
 the gibbet ; we have set a price upon his 
 life, and he will be a sharper- witted knave 
 than we take him for, if he continue to 
 wear his head much longer." 
 
 " Tour Grace's assumption of my cause 
 binds me to you, heart and hand, for ever. 
 That my father loved you well, none can 
 know better than myself — he has reared 
 me firm in loyalty — and if his services 
 have been of any worth to his prince, I
 
 240 THE akmourer's daughter. 
 
 pray Heaven the chance may be mine to 
 follow in his steps." 
 
 And here the youth stepped forward, 
 and kneeling, kissed the hand his King ex- 
 tend' d to him. 
 
 " Come, man," said James, rising, " the 
 hour grows late ; we must seek our guests. 
 It would be an idle ceremony to ask your 
 presence ; and since you are bound to Jed- 
 burgh on this melancholy business, we will 
 give you the papers you wot of, we have 
 left them in our cabinet." 
 
 With a few more expressions of grateful 
 acknowledgment, Sir Andrew Ker followed 
 his sovereign from the apartment. 
 
 During the above discourse, the con- 
 cealed listener had remained at his post, 
 breathless and motionless, apprehensive 
 that the slightest sound would induce dis- 
 covery ; the Border Chief well deserved the 
 reputation for courage he had acquired, 
 still his pulsation became momentarily 
 quickened, as he beheld in such close vicinity
 
 THE ARMOUEER's DAUGHTER. 241 
 
 the son he had rendered an orphan, and 
 the Monarch whose favorite he had 
 destroyed, while their menaces against his 
 person were yet on their lips. After their 
 departure, the Borderer deliberated for an 
 instant, and then softly entered the room, 
 where the royal conference had been held. 
 The table was covered with articles of 
 various description, he threw a quick glance 
 around, and seizing a small sealed packet, 
 thrust it in his doublet. The kinsi's sip^iiet 
 ring next caught his attention, and he 
 quietly fixed it on his finger, conceiving 
 that it might aid him in his escape from 
 the palace. He was now about to hurry 
 away, when a new idea crossed his mind, 
 and returning to the table, he drew off the 
 glove from his left hand, and laid it down 
 on the spot where the packet and ring had 
 been deposited. A smile brightened his 
 bold features, he passed through the ante- 
 chamber once more, and taking a different 
 turning from that he had formerly pursued, 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 he began to entertain a hope of a success- 
 ful issue from his dangerous position. 
 
 However he had not proceeded far, when 
 he descried a serving man approaching him, 
 bearing a light — the newcomer was evidently 
 startled at his appearance there, and paused 
 to demand his business. Far from avoid- 
 ing the encounter, the Chief stepped for- 
 ward calmly, and displayed to the man the 
 royal signet ring, exclaiming — 
 
 ''Detain me not, good fellow; I am on 
 an errand of life and death ;" and then 
 without waiting to be farther questioned, 
 he passed onward. The man looked after 
 him somewhat perplexed; but as it was 
 not in his way to intermeddle with what 
 he did not comprehend, he pursued his own 
 course without more inquiry. 
 
 A fresh current of air now assured the 
 fugitive that some mode of egress was nigh, 
 and following the direction that the wind 
 blew from, he soon perceived a massive 
 door, one half of ^diich was flung open, 
 enabling him to look into a spacious quad-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 243 
 
 rangle, lighted up by the soft beams of 
 the rising moon. With a bound of joyous 
 triumph, the Chief sprang through the 
 aperture, and the next moment he found 
 himself in the iron grasp of two armed 
 sentinels, one of whom held a drawn sword 
 to his breast, while the other pushed back 
 his cap, in order to examine his features 
 more closely. 
 
 M 3
 
 244 THE aemoueek's daughter. 
 
 CHAPTEE XYIL 
 
 THE CAPTURE, 
 
 The eagle pounces on the lamb, 
 The wolf devours the fleecy dam ; 
 Even tiger fell, and sullen bear 
 Their likeness and their lineage spare. 
 Man only mars kind nature's plan, 
 And turns the fierce pursuit on man. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The Borderer's first impulse was to exert 
 his great personal strength in freeing himself 
 from his assailants, but he soon recognized
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 245 
 
 the madness of such an attempt ; more of his 
 enemies were at hand, whose notice the 
 slightest struggle could attract, and render 
 his detention more secure. He was about 
 once more to try the efficacy of the signet 
 ring, when two gentlemen, richly dressed, 
 crossed the quadrangle, and asked the 
 meaning of the affray. 
 
 '' What is going on here, treason, or 
 worse?' said one of them. '' Your guards, 
 Graham, seemed disposed to give the poor 
 knave a few inches of cold steel without 
 much ado. What is his offence T 
 
 " Please you, noble sir, it is offence enow 
 that he came louping through the private 
 portal like a thief in the dark — no one is 
 permitted to pass out this way." 
 
 The sentinel said this with an air of 
 deference, for he recognized in the first 
 speaker's companion, one of the officers of 
 the guard for the night. 
 
 The Borderer had started almost imper- 
 ceptibly as his ear caught the tones of the 
 gentleman who had interposed in his be-
 
 246 THE aemoueer's daughter. 
 
 half, and now that his captors slightly re- 
 laxed their hold, he looked up boldly, and 
 said : 
 
 " Another time I would advise you, my 
 masters, to greet a stranger less warmly ; 
 had not my spirit been stout as my broad- 
 cloth, both would have given way under 
 your rough salutations. I am a peaceable 
 man, and came here on my own personal 
 concerns ; having lost my way in your 
 maze of passages, I was glad enough to spy 
 this open door, and floundered out in the 
 dark, little expecting what was to befall 
 me on the other side. That you cannot 
 tell I am an honest man, is pretty natural, 
 for you have never seen me before, but yon 
 gentleman, Masler Dal ton, knows me well, 
 and will be responsible that my purpose 
 here is no worse than his own.'^ 
 
 The individual alluded to, was the Master 
 Dalton, of whom we have made mention on 
 more occasions than one; his companion 
 was Sir Eonald Graham, and both were ac- 
 cidentally passing to join the revellers in
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 247 
 
 the palace, when their attention was at- 
 tracted by the prisoner's arrest. Thus 
 publicly appealed to, Dalton stepped for- 
 ward, and scrutinizing the captive's ftice 
 keenly, a single glance was exchanged be- 
 tween them, its effect was decisive. 
 
 •' I will wager," said Dalton, " that what 
 this man says is true. I recognize in him 
 an old acquaintance, and must pray you, 
 Graham, to have him released.'' 
 
 " Stay !" returned Sir Ronald, " it is a 
 point of duty — the matter should be en- 
 quired into — his designs may be found — " 
 
 " He can entertain none of any moment. 
 Losing one's way is not in the catalogue 
 of crimes you are bound to punish. For 
 my sake, Graham, hold him harmless." 
 
 Then followed a short whispered consul- 
 tation between the frieuds ; at the termina- 
 tion, Sir Eonald desired that the prisoner 
 should be set free, and bade him quit the 
 precincts of the palace forthwith. 
 
 It might readily be imagined the Bor- 
 derer was no laggard in obeying this order.
 
 248 THE AEMOUEER''s daughter. 
 
 Without pausing to reflect what Kalph 
 Multon and his kinsman might think of 
 his disappearance, he bent his hurried steps 
 to the mean alley where his old friend 
 lodged, and leading his horse out of the 
 dilapidated shed, he felt, as he leaped into 
 the saddle, that his fate was once more partly 
 in his own hands. 
 
 The signet ring served him well at the 
 city gates, and he was soon galloping along 
 the hard road at a pace that set pursuit at 
 defiance. He had left Edinburgh many 
 miles behind, when certain interior sensa- 
 tions warned him that he had endured a 
 long fast, and at the same time his horse 
 began to show symptoms of weariness. 
 Feeling the necessity of recruiting himself, 
 and certain that the fame of his last ex- 
 ploit could not have preceded him, he de- 
 termined to stop at some house of public 
 entertainment, and rest awhile, He had 
 few apprehensions on the score of being re- 
 cognized and detained, for he had seldom 
 visited that part of the country, and be-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 249 
 
 lieved he was fully able to protect himself 
 from any ordinary dangers. His greatest 
 fear was, that the lateness of the hour would 
 prevent him obtaining the refreshment he 
 so much required. However, his misgiv- 
 ings were needless, for as he drew up at a 
 little hostelrie which stood some distance 
 apart from the road side, the blazing fire 
 within spoke a cheerful welcome. Having 
 attended to the wants of his horse, a duty 
 which self-interest and gratitude alike dic- 
 tated, the Border Chief entered the kitchen, 
 where the trim hostess was spreading her 
 table, evidently for the reception of a large 
 party. Perhaps our single traveller would 
 now have done wisely to withdraw, but 
 prudence was not one of his characteristics, 
 and moreover the steaming viands sent forth 
 so acceptable a smell, that he could not 
 relinquish his original intention of essaying 
 their merits. 
 
 Seating himself, therefore, on a three- 
 cornered stool, his wishes were promptly 
 expressed — a smoking platter was soon 
 M 5
 
 250 THE armourer's DArOHTER. 
 
 placed before him, and he did not fail to dc? 
 full justice to the fare. Nature's first crav- 
 ings being tolerably satisfied, he addressed 
 himself to the hostess. 
 
 '* It would seem that you are expecting 
 a great number of guests; I can warrant 
 they will not have cause to fall out with 
 their supper." 
 
 ^' Ay, sir,""' replied the well-pleased 
 hostess, " but every one has not your wor- 
 ship's kindly judgment." 
 
 " Nor my good appetite, you would say. 
 How know you the party you are awaiting 
 will arrive? The liour grows late for tra- 
 vellers." 
 
 " The archer who pricked forward to bid 
 me have all in readiness, said it might be 
 nigh midnight before they got here." 
 
 " Your customers are soldiers then ; from 
 what quarter come they?" 
 
 The good woman's reply was cut short 
 by the loud tramp of horses' feet dashing 
 into the yard, announcing the arrival of the 
 company. Out she flew to aj^sist in the
 
 THE AHMOURER's DAUGHTER. 251 
 
 disembarkation; great was the uproar and 
 confusion that prevailed ; the shouts of the 
 horse-boys, the barking of dogs, the laughter 
 of the riders, and above all, the shrill voice 
 of the hostess, giving a hundred directions 
 in one breath. 
 
 At length Lord Hamilton, commander 
 of the troop, entered the kitchen, closely 
 followed by some of his subordinates — we 
 shall not pause to particularise, for with 
 these our tale intermeddles not — but will 
 pass on to speak of one of the group, whose 
 appearance rather distinguished him from 
 the rest. This was Maurice Yipont, a 
 young English volunteer ; he had just bound 
 himself to the service of Eichard of York, 
 whose cause he had embraced with motives 
 as pure, and zeal as disinterested as ever 
 led astray an ardent, enthusiastic tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 His father had always followed the 
 White Rose to the field, and no fluctuations 
 of fortune had influenced their constant 
 adherence ; the young man had hitherto
 
 252 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 lived tranquilly under Henry's sway, but 
 no sooner had he heard the generally cur- 
 rent rumour, that a son of the Fourth Ed- 
 ward yet lived, to claim the crown of his 
 ancestors, than he hastened to tender his 
 allee^iance, where alone he considered it to 
 be lawfully due. 
 
 He was received by the Adventurer with 
 the consummate grace, and winning address 
 he knew so well how to employ ; and from 
 that moment Maurice attached himself to 
 his new lord with the most devoted regard. 
 His patrimony was far from large, and now 
 would necessarily be confiscated, but this 
 and all other evils would of course be re- 
 dressed when the Yorkists had won their 
 way to the seat of power. 
 
 Without being prominently handsome 
 the new recruit had sufficient good looks, 
 to justily the favorable welcome given him 
 by the fair ones of the Court of James. 
 Strangely indifferent to their smiles, and 
 longing for the activity of the camp, he had 
 obtained permission to accompany Lord
 
 THE ARMOURER^S BAUGHTEil. 253 
 
 Hamilton in his visit of inspection to the 
 different Marches, to ascertain the number 
 of Moss-trcopers willing to enrol themselves 
 in the army that King James was assem- 
 bling. 
 
 There was one point in the approaching 
 warfare which did occasionally cause Mau- 
 rice Yipont a feeling of uneasiness; he 
 could not quite reconcile himself to the 
 idea of standing alongside Scottish men in 
 a charge against his own countrymen ; but 
 he found consolation in the reflection that 
 a sick man^s life must often be saved by 
 violent remedies ; and there were no other 
 visible means of delivering England from 
 the usurper, so he settled the matter with 
 his conscience very easily. 
 
 Lord Hamilton walked straight to the 
 kitchen fire, gaily humming a tune, and 
 scarcely glancing at the solitary traveller, 
 who occupied a seat near the blazing pile. 
 The rest quickly gathered round their lea- 
 der, and an animated conversation took 
 place concerning their prospects of houor
 
 25 i THE AHMOtJllER's DAlTGHTER. 
 
 and booty, mingled with hopes that the 
 bright eyes left behind them would not 
 learn to rove during their absence. 
 
 The loud demands of the famished sol- 
 diers recalled the hostess to her duties 
 within doors, and she concluded the cata- 
 logue of the cheer that was awaiting them, 
 by an assurance that the worshipful gen- 
 tleman in the ingle nook had liked it 
 well. 
 
 " And so, my friend," said Lord Hamil- 
 ton, turning full round to the Borderer, 
 " ycu speak a{)provingly of the gude wife's 
 fare; yet you are an Englishman," added 
 he after another keen survey of the stran- 
 ger, " and that is a rare compliment, I trow, 
 from one of your land." 
 
 '' That's true enough," rejoined the Chief 
 readily. '' I am a peaceful trader, and am 
 returning to my own country, for if the 
 tale I hear is correct, the two kingdoms will 
 shortly be at issue." 
 
 '' You may not be far wrong," pursued 
 the young leader; 'perhaps ere the moon
 
 THE AKMOtJEEIi's t)ArGHTER. 255 
 
 is over, we may meet again on your side of 
 the Border/' 
 
 *' I trust then it will be in the way of 
 lawful trade, for I love not whistling arrows 
 and" heavy armour; and come when you 
 will, I hardly think I can promise you a 
 better supper tlian I have tasted this blessed 
 night/' 
 
 While the above discourse was being 
 carried on, Maurice Yipont had stepped into 
 the yard, to see that the horses were pro- 
 perly cared for; he now re-entered in some 
 haste, and prayed to speak a few words apart 
 to Lord Hamilton. 
 
 Casting a lingering look at the tempting 
 viands, which were being ranged upon the 
 board, the young leader reluctantly suffered 
 himself to be drawn into the narrow pas- 
 sage, where their conference was conducted 
 in tones too low to reach the ears of those 
 within. 
 
 The Borderer imagined this would be a 
 seasonable opportunity for him to withdraw 
 without attracting observation, and havincr
 
 256 THE ARMOUBER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 paid his reckoning, with a kindly "good 
 even " to his hostess, he strode from the 
 kitchen. Making a silent salutation, he 
 passed Lord Hamilton and his companion, 
 and proceeded to the stall where his steed 
 had been stabled. Two grooms stood at 
 the horse's head, and the saddle and other 
 harness had been removed, as if it had been 
 fully decided he should travel no further 
 that night. 
 
 "What means this, knaves!" thundered 
 the Chief. 
 
 He took two steps in advance, w^hen his 
 arms were suddenly seized from behind, and 
 pinioned to his side, and he saw himself 
 surrounded by a band of soldiers. The 
 truth Hashed across his mind, his true cha- 
 racter had been discovered. 
 
 In triumph he was led back to the inn, 
 where the soft-hearted landlady shed a few 
 tears over his probable fate. 
 
 Lord Hamilton's eye sparkled as it met 
 the steady glance of the prisoner. 
 
 " John Heron," said he sternly, " I may
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 257 
 
 not permit your return to England, but 
 must hold you in safe keeping until 
 the pleasure of my sovereign is made 
 known." 
 
 Will you answer me one question?" said 
 the Borderer. " How did you discover 
 me?" 
 
 " My young friend there recognised your 
 celebrated horse, made some inquiries that 
 fully established your identity, and took 
 the necessary precautions to secure your 
 capture.'' 
 
 '' So the good horse that has saved my 
 neck so often, has delivered it at last to 
 the halter. But 'twas ill done of an Eng- 
 lish tongue to betray his countryman to a 
 Scot." 
 
 " True, John Heron," exclaimed Maurice 
 vehemently. " But he who has stained 
 our honest English name by a deed of mid- 
 night murder, is no countryman of mine! 
 The foul blot must be washed out in your 
 blood; England dishonoured herself in
 
 258 THE armouree's daughter. 
 
 giving birth to one so base and per- 
 jured!" 
 
 The Borderer's bronzed cheek flushed 
 deeply, but he replied not, and pulling 
 his cap over his brow, sank passively into 
 the seat assigned to him.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XYIIL 
 
 THE COURT. 
 
 Oh, for knighthood's golden time, 
 
 When romance was yet adored, 
 When Love wrought the minstrel rhyme. 
 
 When Love drew the warrior sword ; 
 When in woman's eye to shine, 
 
 Every deed of fame was done; 
 Peace the garland used to twine. 
 
 War flung down the banner won. 
 
 Song. 
 
 We must now return to Holyrood-house. 
 
 King James, having terminated his inter- 
 view with Andrew Ker, bent his steps to the
 
 260 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 lighted hall, where a brilliant circle awaited 
 the arrival of their royal entertainer. 
 
 In those days, when the system of ancient 
 feudality had not been superseded by a 
 more peefect state of civilization, the num- 
 ber of troops levied and paid by the crown 
 was comparatively small, and the national 
 army was principally composed of the fol- 
 lowings of the warlike vassals, who were 
 compelled to do military service, as a term 
 of tenure; however, there were so many 
 means of evading this duty, that an unpopu- 
 lar monarch would occasionally find it im- 
 possible to keep his forces in the field, and 
 a cause of quarrel which failed to enlist the 
 general sympathy was seldom brought to a 
 successful issue. 
 
 On the verge of a war, James Stuart now 
 felt the necessity of conciliating the various 
 interests of his more powerful subjects, and 
 while he conceded some immunities of 
 trifling value to the burgesses, promises of 
 reward and preferment were liberally be- 
 stowed on all classes.
 
 THE AEMOUEER's DAUGHTER. 261 
 
 With the elder knights he held grave 
 council, and he failed not to gratify the 
 younger by a succession of brilliant fetes^ 
 whereat the bright glances and witchery of 
 the fair dames of his court aAvoke a feeling 
 of generous emulation and desire of honour- 
 able distinction in the breasts of those who 
 owned the influence of their charms. 
 
 War was the universal theme. Nothing 
 was thought of but the march to Eng- 
 land, and many an eager suitor peti- 
 tioned the lady of his love for the smallest 
 gage of her favour — a knot of ribbons, a 
 glove, or kerchief — vowing that the token 
 should be carried foremost into the combat ; 
 and as we pique ourselves on our veracity, 
 it must be owned the request so boldly 
 urged, was not always denied. Proud 
 beauties, who had jested hitherto at their 
 lovers' sighs and oaths, now listened with 
 downcast eye and changing cheek to the oft 
 repeated protestations. 
 
 The scene of the revels on the present 
 occasion was one of peculiar interest. The
 
 262 THE aemoueer's daughter. 
 
 vast hall with its colonnade of ornamented 
 pillars, environed by many coloured lamps, 
 presented a magnificent spectacle, filled, as 
 it was, to overflowing, with the noblest and 
 fairest in the realm. Many who joined the 
 blithest in the passing glee, who won for 
 themselves an everlasting name in Scotland's 
 historic page — some too, who vaunted the 
 loudest of the deeds that should be done 
 when the Scots crossed the Borders, were 
 doomed to leave their bones in that Southern 
 land they spoke of so defyingly. 
 
 The Earl of Douglas stood somewhat 
 apart; his court attire differed little from 
 that which he wore in the field, but he was 
 privileged, and his presence was esteemed a 
 happy augury — seldom did he enter into the 
 gaiety around him, his busy mind was em- 
 ployed in reviewing the nature of the ground, 
 through which the royal army would have 
 to pass, and his attention only became 
 momentarily diverted from this occupation, 
 when his eye chanced to fall, in curious 
 speculation, on the sinewy frame of some
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 2o3 
 
 Highland leader, whose figure was unknown 
 to him. 
 
 Among the variegated throng might be 
 seen som.e Chief of the Isles, enveloped in 
 his plaid, who stalked along with a bearing 
 as haughty as if the world owned no other 
 master. Occasionally a point of altercation 
 would arise between these fiery spirits, and 
 then the Earl of Huntly, vdth his usual 
 peaceful policy, would glide among the dis- 
 putants, and enter into the discussion, ex- 
 plaining away what had given offence, and 
 restoring harmony and good will. There 
 was one spot in the illuminated hall, w^hich 
 seemed to possess a more than ordinary at- 
 traction — this was where the Lady Katherine 
 was stationed, the centre of a crowd of 
 worshippers. An involuntary murmur of 
 admiration passed from lip to lip at her 
 unequalled loveliness, and every eye was 
 fastened on her countenance. I^otvvithstand- 
 ing the universal adulation she looked only 
 on him to whom her hand and troth were
 
 264 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 plighted, and bis smile was the only homage 
 she prized. Never did painter's dream of 
 beauty call into creation a face of more 
 marvellous attraction; a coronet glittered 
 above her snowy brow, that had not yet 
 been clouded by a care ; and the sparkling 
 joyousness of her whole aspect, denoted 
 that her path had hitherto been strewn with 
 flowers. When the Adventurer turned to 
 address his beautiful bride, his voice un- 
 wittingly assumed a tenderer tone, and the 
 love he read in her soft blue eyes was re- 
 quited a thousand-fold by a devotion as 
 deep and tender as ever animated the breast 
 of man. 
 
 '' Think you," he whispered, as the en- 
 trance of King James directed the attention 
 of the courtiers into another channel, 
 '' think you, my Kate, that you will not 
 repent your determination to follow the 
 fortunes of your husband? Have you 
 weighed the privations of a hasty march? 
 Of peril, I speak not, for there is not a
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 265 
 
 man in our gallant host who would not lose 
 his life ere a curl on that bright head were 
 endangered." 
 
 '' Our fates are henceforth one/' was her 
 reply, " for me that will be sufficient 
 happiness.'' 
 
 No music ever sounded half so sweet to 
 Richard's ear as that unhesitating declara- 
 tion of an affection which he coveted the 
 more, perhaps, from his consciousness of 
 how little he deserved it. 
 
 While the nobles eagerly encircled their 
 Monarch, contending for a share of his 
 notice, Father Hubert leaned against a 
 slender column, contemplating stealthily the 
 wedded pair — that wary glance betokened 
 neither love, nor hatred, nor indifference, 
 but rather the lynx-eyed, restless vigilance 
 of one who watches a game in which he has 
 a large issue at stake. The priest could 
 not help secretly acknowledging that his 
 surveillance had become irksome to his 
 pupil ; he felt, that as promptings of a better 
 nature rose in the young man's bosom, he 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE armourjr's daughter. 
 
 shuddered to think how the deception, he 
 was carrying on, would inflict ruin and 
 bloodshed on an entire kingdom. Yet the 
 toils were around him; what did remorse 
 avail! AVhen the Adventurer linked his 
 destiny to that of the high-born maiden he 
 had dared to love. Father Hubert knew there 
 could be no drawing back, no willing aban- 
 donment of the position he had assumed — 
 still the priest was aware that the enthral- 
 ment of the senses renders the powers of 
 the mind less vigorous, and therefore he 
 w^as ever on the alert to repair, by his ready 
 wit, any mischance that might induce dis- 
 covery. 
 
 Soon after the arrival of the King, Mas- 
 ter Dalton and Sir Eonald Graham made 
 their appearance in the hall; the latter 
 was not long permitted to remain in 
 the background. James beckoned him 
 familiarly to his side, and with his usual 
 winning courtesy, acquainted him that the 
 Lady Katherine had wrought a standard 
 which was to be borne to the field by the
 
 THE AHMOURER's DAUGHTER. 267 
 
 following of her father, the Earl of 
 Huntly. 
 
 " And as you are a Captain of that 
 honoured band," concluded the King, " be 
 it your task to seek the noble lady, and tell 
 her brave men are never thankless." 
 
 In obedience to the royal mandate, Sir 
 Konald Graham crossed the hall, and ap- 
 proached the Lady Katherine; as he drew 
 near, the Adventurer perceived his object, 
 and moved away towards a group of gay 
 gallants, in order to allow free access. An- 
 other moment, and the young knight stood 
 before the queen-like bride ; was it plea- 
 sure or pain that caused the momentary 
 pallor which overspread his countenance? 
 she received him with the frank simplicity 
 of her early days. He took that soft, 
 "white hand, whose contact sent an in- 
 describable thrill through every beating 
 vein, and slightly touched it with his lips ; 
 when he resigned it, he made an effort to 
 collect his scattered faculties. 
 
 " Noble Lady," he commenced, " I am 
 N 3
 
 268 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 here to offer the homage of a thousand 
 hearts for the banner you have conferred 
 on our troop — it was a gracious thought, 
 and dear as our lives will we hold the gift 
 — us it shall lead to glory — it we wil 
 guard with our blood — wherever the Gor- 
 don standard moves in the wind, far and 
 wide shall it be known that honour is to be 
 won, and victory secure/' 
 
 " That you will achieve fame and re- 
 nown, Sir Eonald, I nothing doubt, and I 
 pray it may some day be in the power of 
 my good lord and husband to requite your 
 service." 
 
 " There is no need, madam," returned 
 the young man, coldly. " I draw the 
 sword at my own sovereign's behest; from 
 his hand alone will I receive guerdon/' 
 
 " You are too proud then to accept 
 thanks," said Katherine, smiling at the 
 other's well- remembered impetuosity. 
 
 "Xot from you, dear lady," exclaimed 
 Sir Ronald, eagerly. "Not from you — 
 near you, I have no pride. For one poor
 
 THE ARMOUtlER's DAUGHTER. 269 
 
 word from your lips I would toil for years, 
 and think myself overpaid." 
 
 "Yours was ever a kind heart, Sir 
 Ronald, and that you would gladly serve 
 me, 1 have not now to learn. Have you 
 been absent lately from the court?" 
 
 "No! madam; my duties have com- 
 pelled my attendance." 
 
 " How is it then we have been such 
 strangers? we have not met since — " she 
 paused, and a faint blush dyed her cheek 
 with a richer glow. 
 
 '• Since the White Rose of Scotland was 
 grafted on a foreign stock. But see — his 
 Highness looks this way, and I must return 
 to his side — moreover, I trespass on mo* 
 ments that might be more worthily spent. 
 I leave you, lady, invoking every blessing 
 on your honoured head." 
 
 Sir Ronald resisted the temptation of 
 touching ouce more the jewelled hand that 
 was half extended to him, and bowing 
 lowly, he turned resolutely away — when 
 next his eyes sought the form of the Lady
 
 270 THE ARMOURb-R^S DAUGHTER* 
 
 Katherine, she was leaning fondlj on her 
 husband's arm. 
 
 A sudden movement had now become 
 apparent about the person of the King; 
 messengers were despatched from the 
 presence, and their return seemed to awaken 
 fresh disquietude; the sovereign himself, 
 with an appearance of discomposure and 
 amazement, was speaking earnestly to the 
 Earl of Huntlj and the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Father Hubert was next summoned, and 
 evidently returned a decided negative to 
 the questions referred to him. At length, 
 with a countenance black as midnight, the 
 monarch, followed by some of the nobles, 
 swept from the Hall. All was conster- 
 nation and dismay in the gay assembly. 
 To account for this unexpected change of 
 cheer was whispered the varying tale, of 
 how important papers had been taken from 
 the outer cabinet where King James had 
 given audience to the young heir of Ker; 
 in vain, had been the strict search that was 
 immediately instituted, and the only trace
 
 THE ABMOURER*S DAUGHTER. 271 
 
 that could be found of the hand that had 
 removed the missing documents, had gloom- 
 ed the monarch's brow, and raised a tem- 
 pest of passion in his fiery heart, was a glove 
 broidered with the well-known cognizance of 
 the Bastard Heron, which had been left on 
 the table from whence the packet was stolen ! 
 How came it there? Was treason at work 
 so near the throne? Or had the audacious 
 Borderer indeed penetrated into the royal 
 dwelling? Each asked the other these ques- 
 tions which none could explain. With sun- 
 dry ejaculations of astonishment the goodly 
 company gradually dispersed. But there 
 was one whose bearing showed more angry 
 mortification than curiosity, as he listened 
 to the widely circling rumour — this was 
 Sir Ronald Graham. Instantly it flashed 
 across his mind that the prisoner detain- 
 ed by the sentry, and freed by his own 
 command, was no other than the redoubta- 
 ble Border Chief, and he flt-w to find Regi- 
 nald Daltou, by whose intervention the mis- 
 hap had occurred.
 
 272 THE armourer's daughter, 
 
 " I am undone/' he exclaimed breath- 
 lessly, as he reached his friend's side ; " and 
 you are the cause. The man, you besought 
 me to release, is the Bastard Heron, who 
 has robbed the King of some state secrets, 
 and me of my honour. I shall never raise 
 head again with so foul a stain on my 'scut- 
 cheon." 
 
 "By what strange miracle," asked the 
 Englishman, " did James know that his 
 palace had held so unexpected a guest?" 
 
 " Because the bold varlet left his gaunt- 
 let of defiance as a bravado, in lieu of the 
 papers he had seized." 
 
 " 'Twas a daring deed, but the fearless 
 Heron will have his wings clipped, an he be 
 not less rash." 
 
 " And what need had you to meddle in 
 the matter T asked Sir Eonald, impatiently. 
 " Why importune me to send the man off 
 scatheless? I could break my own head for 
 my folly." 
 
 " Because he was known to me in bye- 
 gone days," answered the Englishman, *'and
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGiiTER. 273 
 
 I could not see him delivered to the dooms- 
 man/' 
 
 " How shall I avow my part in this dis- 
 astrous affair 1" 
 
 " Be ruled by me. Keep your own coun- 
 sel. The sentinels must be taught the 
 value of discretion. I will set this business 
 straight forthwith. Meet me an hour hence 
 at my lodging. Away with you!" 
 
 And while the king chafed — the nobles 
 marvelled — Sir Ronald accused his unlucky 
 stars — .md iiis friend was endeavouring to 
 buy silence with hush money, the Border 
 Chief was bound hand and foot, a captive 
 in the power of Lord Hamilton and his 
 Scottish archers. 
 
 N O
 
 274 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX, 
 
 THE ENGLISHMAN'S TALE. 
 
 Thou hast seen me start 
 As if a dagger thrilled my heart, 
 When it has happed some casual phrase 
 Wake d memorj of my former days. 
 
 Scott* 
 
 The hour had scarcely elapsed when Sir 
 Ronald Graham entered the chamber of his 
 English friend. It was past midnight,- yet 
 the fire burned brightly on the hearth — for^
 
 THE AKM 'URER's DAUGHTER. 275 
 
 although the season was early spring, the 
 Southern stranger found the Scottish air 
 chill, and indulged in a luxury which 
 a hardier temperament would have de- 
 spised. 
 
 The host had not yet returned; but 
 shortly made his appearance — and before 
 he had flung aside his hat and cloak, the 
 young caviilier eagerly demanded his tidings 
 -^Dalton briefly disclosed that the matter 
 was satisfactorily arranged — -he had spoken 
 with the sentinels —they were prudent men 
 who could hold their peace — and had an eye 
 to their ovvn interest — which was far more 
 effectually secured by keeping their young 
 captain's secret, than in making a clean 
 breast of it. Having neglected to reveal 
 the case in the first instance, hereafter for 
 their own sakes, they must be everlastingly 
 mute. Sir Eonald felt inexpressibly re- 
 lieved that this point was settled ; nothing 
 he dreaded so much as the public disgrace 
 and general censure an exposure of the 
 circumstances would entail.
 
 276 THE armoueer's daughter. 
 
 Having furnished his guest with a cup 
 of wine, Dalton stood regarding him for a 
 few moments with an air of keen scrutiny, 
 and then said, abruptly — 
 
 ''You mislike this liichard of York — so 
 do I — he has his father's bland smile, 
 gracious as the noon-daj, fickle as April, 
 false as hell. I would he had not 
 strengthened his power by this alliance 
 to your royal James." 
 
 " He is my sovereign's guest and 
 plighted friend," returned Sir Ronald, " and 
 while he remains so, I may not lift finger 
 to do him a despite." 
 
 " Ay 1 and he has a fair wife and a 
 loving." 
 
 The other started, as if a scorpion had 
 stung him, b'lt made no reply. 
 
 " Seems it not strange — most strange," 
 pursued Dalton, *' that one whose dower of 
 beauty would bow all hearts, should be con- 
 tent to give her troth at a Monarch's bid- 
 ding, as though a high-born maiden's affec- 
 tions were a legal object of barter."
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 277 
 
 " Is not the bridegroom of princely 
 birth?'' asked Graham, bitterly. "Is he 
 not gay, generous, valiant, and well favored 
 — what would you more"?" 
 
 " This would be passing well, had the 
 maiden been nurtured in the convent shade ; 
 but reared in the precincts of a glittering 
 court, would not one imagine that some 
 young cavalier — some sharer of the child- 
 ish pastimes — must ere this have stolen 
 into her heart at unawares. Would not 
 such be natural ?" 
 
 "Who can say?" answered Sir Ronald, 
 turning away his head. 
 
 The Englishman drew nearer, and press- 
 ing his companion's arm, dropped his voice, 
 as he continued — 
 
 " Have you never thought that the Earl 
 of Huntly's daughter smiled more sweetly 
 than her wont on one of her father's train 
 — did you never fancy that her tone was 
 kindlier, her brow more joyous when you 
 were nigh?"
 
 278 THE AEMOUREr's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I have cherished such presumptuous 
 thought," exchiimed Graham, pushing 
 aside his friend's hand, and springing from 
 his seat, he paced to and fro the room with 
 hurried strides. " I have dreamed a dream 
 of such exquisite bliss that a life-long of 
 withering regret must atone for the short 
 spanned pleasure. Out on the soft folly! 
 One glimpse of a phantom crown, one word 
 from a prince's lips, and the hopes of years 
 vanished into air." 
 
 Dalton awaited until the first outbreak 
 of emotion had subsided, and then said, 
 
 '• You had some converse with the Lady 
 Katherine this night: in whiit humour 
 found you the would-be queen?" 
 
 Cold as the unsunned snow," replied 
 the young man, bitterly. 
 
 " The day may come when she will 
 smile again," said the Englishman, care- 
 lessly. " Men who strike for thrones, 
 sometimes, make a false step, and slip into 
 a grave.''
 
 TH£ ARMOimERS DAUGHTER. 279 
 
 There was a long pause. At length, Sir 
 Ronald Graham fixed his dark eyes on his 
 associate's cadaverous and care-worn 
 features, and stalked towards him with a 
 determined air. 
 
 ''Who are you?" demanded he, "who 
 come here wearing the livery of one prince 
 while your heart seems to own another. 
 What is your purpose at our northern 
 court? You have wrung my secret from 
 my unwilling lips — give me yours in re- 
 turn.'' 
 
 " You have told me nought that I had 
 not guessed before — yet I will not gainsay 
 your wish. You shall hear the history of 
 my early wrongs ; but first plight me your 
 word as knight and gentleman, that what I 
 now may utter, shall pass no further.'' 
 
 " I will vow to be secret in all matters 
 that impeach not my allegiance to my own 
 sovereign lord King James." 
 
 Placing the solitary lamp in such a posi- 
 tion that the light gleamed on the counte- 
 nance of the listener, while it cast a shadow
 
 280 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 on his own, the Englishman commenced his 
 tale. 
 
 " Perchance you will not marvel to learn 
 the name I bear is a feigned one. That I 
 spring from a long line of noble forefathers, 
 is all I may now avow — heir to broad lands 
 — the pride of my house — in the hey-day 
 of vigorous youth — I would often wonder 
 that others should cark and repine at a 
 world which seemed to me one long scene of 
 delight. And then, Love, with his zephyr 
 wing, stirred the fresh emotions of my heart 
 into a passion so wild and fervent, that to 
 the eye of sober sense, it might well seem, 
 a mad idolatry. I will not say how beauti- 
 ful was my Edith — what lover swears not 
 that his mistress is fair — enough that to 
 me she was the loveliest on earth — the 
 dearest — and Heaven assoil me at the hour 
 of need! was I believe, the truest. The 
 suit I urged was accepted. Little thought 
 I of the lordship of Borodaile, over which 
 hereafter she would have the rights of Seig- 
 neuriej the spot on which s/ie stood was all
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 281 
 
 the empire I coveted. Friends smiled on 
 our loves; we were affianced. At that 
 moment the great Earl of Warwick gave 
 the aid of his popular name, and mighty 
 arm to the Lancastrian cause ; the invaders' 
 ships threatened our coast — trained to the 
 use of arms, and vowed from my cradle to 
 the White Rose, I tore myself from my 
 ancestral halls, and arming my retainers, I 
 flew to offer my services to Edward the 
 Fourth. He assigned me a post near his 
 own person. There was a witchcraft in his 
 royal presence which bound me to him, as 
 by a magic spell. I became devoted to 
 his interest. Yet I had myself witnessed 
 instances of his misrule — had I not heard 
 tales of his cruelty, oppression, and rapine? 
 Had he not broken the laws of gratitude 
 and knightly faith ? These things seldom 
 strike home until the shaft is aimed at our- 
 selves. Whenever there was a rising of 
 the rebels, my sword was foremost in the 
 onset; in exile I stood at his side; I served 
 Edward with more than the zeal of a loyal
 
 282 THE ARMOUKER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 subject, for I loved him. Finally at the 
 battle of Barnet, which secured his crown, 
 my ready arm interposed between the King 
 and death. My father and younger brother 
 fell on that victorious field- — as we stood 
 among the heaps of slain — the King placed 
 his hand on my shoulder, and said, 
 
 " ' Edward of York owes you a life, the 
 debt shall not be forgotten.' " 
 
 " Wisely is it written — ' Put not your 
 faith in princes.' — Short time had we to 
 grieve over our dead; the head of the re- 
 bellion had fallen, but the insurgents in 
 small bodies still continued their resistance. 
 Meantime the death of a kinsman had made 
 my Edith heiress to a barony; by the 
 Monarch's command, she was summoned to 
 Court, and placed under the protection of 
 the Queen. I took an opportunity to make 
 known to the King that we were betrothed, 
 and my claims were graciously allowed. 
 As I left the court for the north, to head 
 Edward's forces against a party of Lan- 
 castrians, who, aided by the Scots, were
 
 THE ARMOURLRS DAUGHTER. 283 
 
 ravaging our Marches, I could scarcely feel 
 sad at a parting which was to be the pre- 
 lude of my future happiness. Unluckily, 
 in a hot skirmish, I was taken prisoner, 
 covered with wounds, and carried to Scot- 
 land by my enemies. Tedious were the 
 months of my captivity ; no efforts were 
 made for my release, my friends seemed to 
 have forgotten me. At last, a Border chief, 
 John Heron, a companion of my boyhood, 
 learned my pitiful state, and ransomed me 
 from the prison whose walls he could not 
 break — and once more I was a free man." 
 
 Here Dalton paused, drew the wine-flask 
 towards him, and took a long draught. 
 
 " There was a man who, during my ab- 
 sence, had become popular with the King 
 — Sir Herbert Coldinghame — his glozing 
 tongue, and ready flatteries, had pleased 
 the royal ear — he had too some clerkly skill 
 — yet stay ! 1 must not belie my worst foe; 
 1 have heard he was a deft swordsman, and 
 had done his devoir aforetime in the King's 
 quarrel — being so young a cavalier, I had
 
 284 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 never encountered him, for while I fought 
 with the Yorkist troops, he was engaged in 
 diplomatic negotiations at the Court of 
 France. Besides he was connected with 
 the Queen's kin — those upstart Woodvilles 
 — that was a better pass-port to favour 
 than scars or service — this man fixed his 
 bold eyes on the seraph beauty of my Edith 
 — perhaps her countless acres had some 
 weight — still he loved her after his own 
 fierce fashion — that unholy love appalled 
 her gentle nature, she shrank from him 
 with natural antipathy. He demanded 
 her hand of the King — my claim was 
 upheld by my affianced bride — endeavours 
 were made to blacken my name — the 
 charge fell to the ground, so that not 
 the shadow of an excuse remained to the 
 ingrate King. The new wooer's suit was 
 backed by a queen, supported by powerful 
 favorites — I had only the remembrance of 
 past services, and the claim of a right 
 founded on justice. The King's warrant 
 was given empowering Sir Herbert Col-
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER. 285 
 
 dingharae to wed the Lady Edith of Boro- 
 daile. See, I pray you, how calmly I speak 
 of that which rends my heart-strings. 
 Edith — no longer mine — knelt, wept, im- 
 plored, resisted in vain. A priest was 
 found to perform the espousals; violence 
 was used, the mark of their unmanly grasp 
 was laid upon her delicate arm, the ring 
 was forced upon her finger, and she was in 
 in the eyes of all men a wedded wife. Thus 
 much I gathered from the old retainers 
 who preserved some reverence for their 
 former lord. The night of the bridal, 
 restored to freedom, I stood at my rival's 
 castle gate. The feast and wassail had 
 been prolonged; the guests were slowly 
 departing from their revelry, when a gleam 
 of light shot from the southern tower — it 
 caught, it spread, the castle was on fire. 
 Up crumbling staircases, over smoking 
 rafters, through flaming ruins, I sought the 
 one I had so madly worshipped — T found 
 her at last, and carrying her like an infant, 
 I bore her to a sequestered nook, where
 
 286 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 once more we were alone together. Reason 
 had fled — her own hand had ^red the ac- 
 cursed pile — the flame had done its work 
 on her feeble frame — grief, terror, and mad- 
 ness had also their part in the beautiful 
 ruin. It would have made an angel weep 
 to hear her despairing shriek when her eye 
 fell on the abhorred ring — at last I soothed 
 her into rest — lier arm clasped my neck — 
 her head on my bosom — and thus she 
 died." 
 
 " 'Tis a moving tale," exclaimed Sir 
 Ronald, after a long silence, pressing his 
 friend's hand in token of cordial sympathy. 
 " And what befell Sir Herbert Colding- 
 harae?" 
 
 " He disappeared for aye ; yet he perished 
 not in the flames. Shame for the unknightly 
 deed — remorse perchance — caused him to 
 quit his native land — possibly he is dead, 
 for my strictest search never discovered a 
 clue to his retreat." 
 
 " What was your own fate?" asked the 
 young cavalier.
 
 THE armourer's daugejcr. 287 
 
 " Some words of treason occasioned me 
 to be held a prisoner, and dealt with as a 
 traitor, until Henry Tudor won the English 
 throne. I was then released. Sore sick- 
 ness hill changed the bloom of youth upon 
 my chtek to the hues of death. Of what 
 use was freedo n? 1 had no object in life; 
 I was the last of my race; my father and 
 brother had died in battle. Sir Herbert 
 Coldinghame never returned. My enmity 
 to the house of York slept perforce, for 
 there were none to feel it. Then suddenly 
 I heard the tyrant Edward had yet a living 
 son, to whom I could requite his father's 
 wrong — the torpor fell from my soul — I 
 lived again — the hope of revenge shook 
 aside t'le apathy of years. The boy-prince 
 has an inheritance he dreams not of — the 
 deadly liate of an injured man. Now leave 
 me, gcod Sir Ronald, I am weary with 
 these sad memories. Yet stay — one word 
 more; if the day should come when this 
 league of amity should be dissolved be- 
 tween James and his new ally.''
 
 288 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 " Then," said the Scot, rising to depart, 
 " I shall see in Eichard of York, only the 
 haughty rival and successful suitor to the 
 lady whose smile I would have died to
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 Alas ! what is't for us to sound, to explore, 
 To watch, oppose, plot, practise, or prevent, 
 If he, for tvhom it is so stronglj laboured. 
 Shall, out of greatness and free spirit, be 
 Supremely negligent. 
 
 Ben Johnson. 
 
 The sun had risen high in the heavens, 
 and his beams shone cheerily over pleasaunce 
 and chase, yet King James kept his cham- 
 ber. A few favoured counsellors only had 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 290 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 been admitted to his presence, and when 
 Lord Hamilton besought an audience, after 
 his return from a visit of inspection to the 
 frontiers, in which the King had seemed to 
 be especially interested — the gentlemen 
 collected in the ante-room assured him his 
 application would be denied. The young 
 noble drew from his pouch a ring, and 
 placing it in the hand of the page, who in- 
 stantly recognized it as the royal signet 
 ring, he bade him deliver it forthwith to 
 the Monarch, and say the bearer humbly 
 craved admission. The embassy was favor- 
 ably received, and contrary to the general 
 expectation, Lord Hamilton was admitted 
 to the King's closet. In another quarter of 
 the palace sat the young Adventurer, 
 busily employed inditing a missive to the 
 Duchess of Burgundy, praying her for a 
 further subsidy. At length, his task con- 
 cluded, he flung aside the pen with an air 
 of impatience, and fell into a train of 
 thought. Never was a temperament less 
 fitted by nature for the hypocrisy of enact-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 291 
 
 ing a false character — constitutionally frank 
 and joyous — none could tell how irksome 
 it was for him to weigh his words, to watch 
 his actions, and dispense his smiles, with 
 the accuracy of a well-formed machine. 
 Then he had to wrestle with self-contempt, 
 and a feeling of humiliation at his daily per- 
 jury, which lowered him in his own esteem, 
 and oppressed his spirits; while at the same 
 time he felt that loving eyes discerned the 
 slightest shade upon his brow, and he was 
 compelled to rouse from his dejection, and 
 enter into the mirth of the hour, with a 
 smiling lip and a weary heart. Still there 
 were moments when the recolieciions of his 
 obscure boyhood became like a dim and 
 half forgotten dream. Habit was so power- 
 ful, that sometimes he would lose his own 
 identity; and feel, in reality, as if he were 
 the injured prince whose inheritance was a 
 throne — the native ambition that filled and 
 crushed his boyish heart, would take a wider 
 sweep ; and before his mind's eye would 
 arise a long vista of brilliant achievements, 
 3
 
 292 THE aemoueee's daughtek. 
 
 whose end was an empire. These hopes 
 Avere not so chimerical, as, at first view, 
 they might appear — true, his followers were 
 few, his supplies of money and arms inade- 
 quate to the undertaking; and the King he 
 was about to oppose, wielded his sceptre 
 with a firm and able hand — vet it was in 
 the rememibrance of all men that, twenty 
 years before, Edward of York landed on 
 England's unfriendly coast, at the head of 
 live hundred adventurers; and yet, in a 
 few weeks, the conquering King entered 
 the capital in triumph. What had the 
 power of noble or baron availed to stem 
 the torrent? The hearts of the people had 
 raised an army to fight under the banner of 
 the White Rose. 
 
 " Under this ensign too, will I conquer 
 or perish !'' said Eichard to himself. " Again 
 will the nation rally to the standard of the 
 mighty House of York." But the bright 
 smile faded from his countenance, as the 
 thought pressed upon him that he had no 
 claim to the fealty which his adherents
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 293 
 
 might be called on to seal with their blood ; 
 what must be the feeling of the low bom 
 impostor, when knights of unstained lineage 
 pledged to him their noble faith to live for 
 his service or die in his cause. " What 
 magic lies in a name l" thought the Adven- 
 turer. '' The unworthiest descendent of the 
 Plantagenets could marshal a host in arms, 
 while Heaven help the chief! Avho, endowed 
 with nature's goodliest gifts, has not this 
 priceless boon. Such honored title have I 
 borrowed with dissembling tongue. It is 
 all too late to shun the struggle I have pro- 
 voked; but if mj unlawful grasp should 
 wrest the crown from Henry Tudor's head 
 — here, in the face of open day, I register 
 a vow to live only for England. I will atone 
 — deeply atone.'' 
 
 And, as he pronounced the last words, 
 his face assumed an aspect of unwonted se- 
 riousness. 
 
 " Good morrow, fair lord," said Father 
 Hubert, enterino; at the moment. " A roval
 
 294 THE armourer's daughter, 
 
 page waits without, charged with the mes- 
 sage that King James intends to breathe 
 his palfry anon, and prays your com- 
 pany." 
 
 " I will attend his Highness forthwith," 
 and the young man lost no time in throwing 
 aside his plain morning attire; and equip- 
 ping himself in the magnificent riding ap- 
 parel, which the cavaliers of that day were 
 wont to exhibit on like occasions. 
 
 His super-tunic was of crimson velvefc 
 richly flowered, and the lawn shirt partially 
 exposed to view, was edged with a deep 
 gold fringe. 
 
 While he hastily arrayed himself, he did 
 not allow the conversation to flag. 
 
 '' I trust his Grace is in more cheerful 
 mood, and frets no longer over the singular 
 occurrence which caused his discomposure 
 yesternight." 
 
 ^ 'Tis an indignity that cannot be passcid 
 over lightly," replied the confessor. ^' Trinces 
 are not wont to be braved with impunity ;
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 295 
 
 and the Stuart blood runs not always in a 
 peaceful current. The fiercer the King's 
 ire, and the deadlier his feud with these 
 Herons, larger aid will he give to our cause, 
 and firmer fellowship will he hold with 
 yourself." 
 
 " In good sooth ! fortune wears a smiling 
 aspect/' returned the Adventurer. ** Our 
 last letters from Sir William Stanley, Eng- 
 land's chancellor, warrant the belief that 
 our increased offers of honour and emo- 
 lument, will win him to our side. Say you 
 not so?" 
 
 '* He is wary and politic. If he espouse 
 your interest, 'twill be for the reason that it 
 is linked with his own.'' 
 
 " Methinks, I am the last man who has 
 a right to complain of such a motive," re- 
 turned Richard, relapsing into the self- 
 upbraiding tone which he usually adopted 
 when alone with his confederate. 
 
 " What says your sweet lady to your high 
 hopes T asked the priest — for well he knew 
 how to touch the mainspring on which
 
 296 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 the progression of the whole work de- 
 pended. 
 
 " She at least is fitted to mate with a 
 king. To encircle her queenly brow with 
 a diadem, what would I not dare!" 
 
 " Never did dame more worthy enter the 
 royalty of England. She has a lofty spirit, 
 and a right noble heart, and for her smiles 
 a brave man might well risk much. Par- 
 don my zeal, my lord, if I err," continued 
 the priest with some hesitation ; '' but to 
 my anxious eye it seems that the Lady 
 Katherine grieves and marvels sometimes 
 to find your humour less gay and open than 
 would be natural to expect/' 
 
 " She shall not repent this dispropor- 
 tioned match,'' exclaimed Richard abruptly ; 
 " I will set a closer guard over every word 
 and feature. 1 must on — on — with a bold 
 and unflinching purpose. I will hew her 
 out a path to exalted station. In her 
 graceful pride she shall sit upon a thione. 
 No touch of shame will ever kindle a blush 
 upon her cheek, and though my heart may
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 297 
 
 sink and wither beneath the burden of its 
 treachery, not a shadow of remorse shall be 
 mingled with the triumph I will win for 
 her/' 
 
 The young man was now fully equipped, 
 and placing on his head his braided cap 
 with its single plume, he waved an adieu to 
 his companion, and descended from the 
 chamber. 
 
 Father Hubert retired, better pleased than 
 usual with the disposition in which he found 
 his associate. Provided there was a rigid 
 adherence to the course of action most 
 favourable to the success of his designs, he 
 was indifferent to the motive from which 
 they sprang. If the actor played his part 
 to the life, his individual happiness or re- 
 morse could be of little importance. 
 
 In the spacious enclosure which extended 
 before the inner gate of the palace were to 
 be seen the horses of the monarch and the 
 lords who were to share his morning's pas- 
 time. The grooms and retainers, wearing 
 the badges of the different houses they 
 5
 
 298 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 served, hurried to and fro with busy activity, 
 preserving a decorous silence; while the 
 nobles and gentles conferred together in a 
 low tone on the events of the past night. 
 The king's evident distemperature, and the 
 English Borderer's daring feat afforded an 
 ample field for conjecture. Nothing further 
 had transpired, and the courtiers whose 
 acquaintance with the sovereign was the 
 most intimate, were well aware that the 
 outrage was of a nature particularly adapted 
 to gall his haughty character. The Adven- 
 turer had acquired some consideration 
 among the Scottish knights; his frank and 
 manly air, his address in the tilt-yard, and 
 his princely courtesy of mien rendered him 
 well-fitted, in their opinion, for the career 
 marked out for him. 
 
 As Eichard entered the enclosure, King 
 James also made his appearance at the 
 principal portal, his face radiant with 
 smiles, and closely followed by the Earl of 
 Huntley and Lord Hamilton. All stepped 
 forward to pay their dutiful homage. When
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 299 
 
 the king's eye fell on the distant figure of 
 the Adventurer, he hastened forward to 
 meet him, accosting him gaily. 
 
 " I give you good day, gallant prince. 
 The news we have but now received from 
 yon young lord," pointing to Hamilton, *' are 
 bright as the morn. The evil faitour who 
 traitorously beset our Warden, and stole 
 into our palace, carrying off our signet ring 
 and other matters — this Bastard Heron, was 
 seized last night, by Lord Hamilton, at the 
 hostelrie where he was recruiting himself — 
 his horse was recognized by a follower of 
 your own : he is now in safe keeping at 
 Glanmorris Castle. Why brought you not 
 your prisoner straight to the capital. Lord 
 Hamilton?" 
 
 " Because, my liege, I had your Grace's 
 commission to leave the archers and horse- 
 men at Glanmorris Castle, part of the garri- 
 son having lately been withdrawn. The 
 tidings of the prisoner's fresh aggression 
 had not reached me, and therefore I con-
 
 300 THE AEMOUEER's DiUGHTER, 
 
 siclered it expedient not to depart from the 
 original plan; so I sent him southward 
 with the rest of the troop, commanding that 
 he should be held in strict durance until 
 your Highness's pleasure was known." 
 
 " Our pleasure will work him small 
 grace," returned James. '' The priest and 
 the hangman will be his doom. How found 
 you the ring?" 
 
 " One of the men spied it on the knave's 
 finger. " I took possession of it, deeming it 
 a bold forgery." 
 
 " We will ourselves confront the shame- 
 less villain, and learn how he chanced to 
 honor our poor dwelling with his presence. 
 Od's life ! we must look about us sharply, 
 when the daggers of the Southerns may 
 be at our throats, before we have time to 
 nry ' God save us !' " 
 
 " I heartily wish your Highness joy," said 
 
 ,ae Adventurer, '' that so great an offender 
 
 should be brought to justice. His capture 
 
 will be a warning not easily forgotten,
 
 THE ARMOURER^'s DAUGHTER. 301 
 
 May I crave to know if your Grace regained 
 possession of the packet of papers taken 
 from your cabinet?" 
 
 " By some oversight the prisoner was 
 disarmed, but his person was not minutely 
 searched, as he made it appear he was 
 coming to Edinburgh instead of returning 
 from thence. A messenger has just been 
 despatched with an order to seek the packet 
 and have the Borderer conveyed forthwith 
 to the capital under a strong guard. By 
 the way, fair cousin," continued the King, 
 drawing the Adventurer somewhat aside, 
 '* you are nearly concerned in the restora- 
 tion of these documents. There is the 
 letter written by your own hand to the 
 English Chancellor, Sir AYilliam Stanley, 
 and which we undertook to forward ; if that 
 scroll fell into the power of ill-wishers, it 
 might bring his head to the block." 
 
 '' Now Heaven forefend from such evil 
 issue !" cried Eichard, eagerly. 
 
 " That danger is happily eluded. Now, 
 to horse, gentlemen."
 
 302 TUE armourer's daughter. 
 
 The KiDg vaulted lightly on his steed, 
 and in a few minutes the gay cavalcade 
 swept through the streets of Edinburgh^ 
 amid the shouts of the loyal citizens.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 FIDELITY. 
 
 Though perils did 
 Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and 
 Appear in forms as horrid : yet my duty, 
 As doth a rock against the chiding flood, 
 Should the approach of this wild river break, 
 And stand unshaken yours. 
 
 Shakespeabz. 
 
 In a large, desolate room in one of the 
 lower turrets of the castle of Glan morris, 
 sat the Bastard Heron, his head resting on
 
 304 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 his hand, and his eyes fixed on the bare 
 walls, prescribing such narrow limits to a 
 step hitherto free as the mountain wind. 
 It was the second day of his captivity. 
 
 In compliance with the injunctions of 
 Lord Hamilton, he was kept under the 
 strictest guard. It is true his limbs were 
 unfettered, and he had escaped the ioliic- 
 tion of a warder in his chamber, but an 
 armed sentinel was posted day and night at 
 the bottom of the staircase, which wound 
 from his solitary turret, and formed the 
 only possible outlet. Light and air were 
 admitted through a spacious loophole, 
 covered with a net-work of iron rings, of 
 such massive and complex manufacture, as 
 set at defiance alike the strength and art of 
 man. 
 
 The noon- day sun streamed in through 
 the grating, chequered by the shadow of an 
 enormous sycamore tree, which extended its 
 leafy covert close to the well defended loop- 
 hole. The birds fluttered in its branches, 
 and poured forth a flood of melody, almost
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 305 
 
 it might be thought in praise of that liberty 
 which the captive could scarcely hope to 
 regain. 
 
 Where were now the faithful hearts that 
 would have shed their life's blood to ransom 
 his — the followers who reverenced him as 
 a Chief, and loved him as a father. They 
 knew not of his danger. The first tidings 
 of his capture would doubtless be accom- 
 panied by the history of his execution 
 amid gaping crowds of blood-thirsty 
 enemies. Still the Borderer bore a brave 
 heart, and in the judgment of the guards, 
 his demeanour well became his gallant 
 name. When the Chief's morning meal 
 had been brought to him, he had been 
 given to understand that at sunset he was 
 to be removed to Edinburgh by the royal 
 order. 
 
 The announcementby no means imparted 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Had I but died sword in hand," said 
 the Borderer to himself, " with my foot on 
 my native hills, and my breast to the foe.
 
 306 THE abmourer's daughter. 
 
 I had not murmured at ray fate — but to be 
 caged in this rat-trap; to be made the 
 gazing stock of the cowardly herd — this is 
 no soldier's death — well-a-day ! I must 
 e'en accept it as a penance for the hasty 
 deed which coupled the title of assassin 
 with my name." 
 
 The Chiefs thoughts had reached this 
 point, when a sound differing somewhat 
 from the notes of the feathered songsters 
 caught his attention. His ear was strained 
 to the utmost. For a few moments nothing 
 was to be heard save the whistle of the 
 distant sentinel as he endeavoured to while 
 away the heavy hours. The Borderer ap- 
 proached the loophole, and fixed his 
 anxious gaze on the huge sycamore tree. 
 There was a slight rustling among the 
 branches. An undefiuable thrill of hope 
 shot across the prisoner's bosom. In an- 
 other instant a low voice issued from amid 
 the leaves, speaking in a tone so low as to 
 be barely audible. 
 
 " Noble Chief!" it whispered.
 
 THE AKMOURER's DAUGHTER. 307 
 
 *' Who speaks ?'' demanded the Borderer 
 in the same cautious manner. 
 
 " Tis I — Robin Starhed — one who would 
 die to serve you." 
 
 " My faithful Rob — then I may yet be 
 saved — are you alone?" 
 
 ''Unluckily, yes r 
 
 " xMy true-hearted lad — how came you 
 to discover my prison-house?" 
 
 " The tale is too long for the present 
 precious moments," replied Robin. " I 
 have been concealed among these friendly 
 branches for the last hour, being compelled 
 to tarry until the sentry had passed to re- 
 lieve guard. They will return anon. Say 
 quickly — how can I best aid you V^ 
 
 '' Stay ! until I can collect my 
 thoughts." 
 
 The Borderer pondered awhile. 
 
 " Listen I" said he. " This fortress is 
 too well defended to permit the hope of 
 escape. To-night after sunset, I am to be 
 removed to the Scottish capital — if I am
 
 308 THE aumourer's daughter. 
 
 not set free ere I arrive — my doom is 
 sealed/' 
 
 " Ha ! a rescue on the road is what you 
 aim at?" 
 
 " There is my only chance. A party of 
 our Border-riders in ambush would settle 
 the affair. But the time is short — fear- 
 fully short. Let me consider — this spot 
 is a score of miles from the Heron's Haunt. 
 Have you a horse, Eobin?" 
 
 '' Ne'er a one. The sorry beast I bor- 
 rowed fell lame on the road." 
 
 " Think you one could be procured ?" 
 asked the Chief, thoughtfully. 
 
 " The trial must not be made. I might 
 be questioned and suspected, and then all 
 would be lost. No — I am accounted fleet 
 of foot, and will use my utmost speed. I 
 have often followed the chase as far, and on 
 this errand I shall prove no laggard." 
 
 " My poor boy, you will never compass 
 it; yet I'see no other way. Would that I 
 could put the sun back two short hours ! '
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 309 
 
 " It shall not need," said Robin, reso- 
 lutely. " Doubt nothing — you shall be 
 saved/' 
 
 " 'Twill be a perilous risk of life," pur- 
 sued John Heron. " AYhy should my brave 
 fellows spill their blood in a service that 
 profits them nought. Out on ray selfish- 
 ness !" 
 
 "Noble Chief,'' answered Starhed, "I 
 pledge myself that no man shall ride to 
 your rescue who does not hold himself 
 prouder and blither to go on such an ad- 
 venture than if he went to his bridal. 
 Sore hearts will those have who remain in 
 garrison." 
 
 " I believe the poor lads love me," said 
 the Borderer, huskily. 
 
 '^ Body and soul," replied Robin. " Take 
 good cheer, gallant Chief, all will go well. 
 ]f you have no further commands, I will 
 aw^ay instantly.'* 
 
 " Stop one moment," returned the Bor- 
 derer. " I have about me a packet of 
 letters which I carried off from the enemy,
 
 310 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 judging from the superscription of one of 
 them that it contains a budget of treason 
 against our good King Henry. In my pos- 
 session they will be retaken. I will pass 
 them out to you, and if we never meet 
 again, have a care that they are delivered 
 to our own sovereign.'^ 
 
 As John Heron spoke, he unfastened the 
 silk that bound the packet, and forced the 
 missives separately through the iron rings 
 cf the grating — each one floated a moment 
 in the balmy breeze, and then fell lightly 
 to the earth." 
 
 ''Farewell, Robin," murmured the Chief, 
 " whether I live or die you have my 
 thanks.'' 
 
 There was no reply. The youth had 
 already glided to the ground, and was 
 gathering up the letters which he deposited 
 in his dusty jerkin. Afterwards, with his 
 usual stealthy boldness he leaped the ditch, 
 climbed the wall, and was shortly wending 
 on the road far from the fortress. The 
 Borderer had remained about half an hour
 
 THE AEMOURER's DAUGHTER. 311 
 
 in hopeful contemplation, when many foot- 
 steps were heard ascending the stair-case, 
 and presently the ponderous bolt which 
 fastened the door from without, was draw^n 
 aside, and the governor of the castle, at- 
 tended by four soldiers, entered the prison 
 room. An order from King James had ar- 
 rived some hours previously, enjoining that 
 the English prisoner was to be conveyed 
 that night, after sunset, to the capital, under 
 the escort of Lord Hamilton's company of 
 archers; meantime the slender garrison at 
 Glanmorris was to be reinforced by a troop 
 from Ayton Castle. The messenger brought 
 directions for the immediate search of the 
 Borderer's person, and the careful deten- 
 tion of a packet of papers that would be 
 found thereon. The governor, a heavy, 
 pompous man, replete with ideas of his 
 own dignity, did not see the necessity of 
 any haste in the matter, and consulting 
 his personal ease, deferred obedience 
 to the royal command until the busi- 
 ness of the mornino; had been trans-
 
 312 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 acted. The Border Chief, not so well ac- 
 quainted as ourselves with the purport of 
 this unexpected visit, could not help enter- 
 taining a slight feeling of uneasiness, fear- 
 ful that his young retainer might have 
 been detected, and made captive. 
 
 " John Heron, Bastard of that name," 
 commenced the governor with an- air of 
 authority, " it has been ordained by our 
 sovereign lord. King James, that I should 
 make strict inquisition for a packet feloni- 
 ously carried off by you from the palace of 
 Holyrood House, and reported to be at 
 present concealed on your person. Will 
 you yield it peaceably — ay or no?" 
 
 " Iknow nought of what you require," 
 returned the captive sullenly, " work your 
 will." 
 
 At a signal from their leader, the sol- 
 diers advanced, and seizing the Borderer, 
 who made no resistance, they examined each 
 article of his apparel separately, and with 
 the greatest minuteness. It was so<m evi- 
 dent that no papers were hidden about his
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 313 
 
 person. The room was closely searched — 
 all was in vain. 
 
 " Can it be a mistake?" said the gover- 
 nor to himself, and then added aloud, — 
 " If you entertain the smallest hope of 
 grace from the King's majesty, I would ad- 
 vise you not to trifle with his imperative 
 demand." 
 
 " I ask no favor from him or from you, 
 save the scant courtesy of relieving me 
 from the present annoyance, unless it is 
 part of your purpose to torment a defence- 
 less man — you- are welcome to anything 
 you may find ; only leave me in peace." 
 
 And the Borderer flung himself impa- 
 tiently into a seat. After a closer and 
 equally unsuccessful investigation, the go- 
 vernor withdrew in considerable perturba- 
 tion, apprehensive that some blame might 
 be attached to his own conduct in the af- 
 fair, and the Border Chief was left alone 
 to congratulate himself on the good for- 
 tune which had postponed the search for 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 314 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 the papers, until they had been transmitted 
 into other hands. 
 
 We must now make a short digression in 
 order to explain how Robin Starhed chanced 
 to arrive so opportunely for the prisoner. 
 The morning that the Chief left the Heron's 
 Haunt, the young retainer tracked him, hav- 
 ing an impression that he would proceed to 
 Edinburgh, and entertaining certain mis- 
 givings as to the result of so dangerous 
 an expedition. Perhaps his zeal was quick- 
 ened by the consciousness that it was 
 the vengeance due to his own crime, which 
 threatened the life of his leader, and he re- 
 solved to be on the alert to give aid in case 
 of extremity. 
 
 Finding his Chief did not return, and 
 anxious to obtain intelligence, Robin pro- 
 cured a hofse from a friendly Scot, and 
 pushed along the road, until early on the 
 following morning he reached the small hos- 
 telrie, where the Borderer's horse had been 
 recognised and himself captured.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 315 
 
 The tale was soon elicited from the 
 loquacious hostess, as well as the directions 
 of Lord Hamilton that his prisoner should 
 be conveyed, by the mounted troop, to the 
 Castle of Glanraorris. 
 
 Without loss of time, Starhed returned 
 southward ; and an hour before noon, found 
 himself approaching the towers of Glan- 
 morris. His weary beast he left at the 
 nearest farm house, and succeeded almost 
 beyond his hopes, and in spite of a thou- 
 sand obstacles, in obtaining a conference 
 with the prisoner. As we before recounted, 
 he retreated from the castle without much 
 loss of time. 
 
 Aware that life and death hung upon his 
 speed liobin sped on over hill and dale 
 with the swiftness of the hunted deer. Each 
 mountain pass — each secret defile — and 
 winding track for twenty miles around, was 
 known to the English Borderer — w^ell was 
 it for him — a false step, a wrong turn- 
 ing, and the doom of the Heron was 
 sealed. 
 
 p 3
 
 316 THE armourer's DAUGHTERe 
 
 His foot scarcely seemed to press the 
 bloom from the heather, as it lightly 
 skimmed the ground. Now, sure-paced as 
 a mule, he climbed some rocky ascent, 
 maintaining his position by a grasp ot the 
 twining plants, whose fragile stems threat- 
 ened to snap beneath his slender weight. 
 Anon he plunged into a swollen torrent, 
 seeking neither bridge nor ford — his dimi- 
 nutive frame breasted the foaming wave 
 with a giant's courage — and when he gained 
 the opposite bank — he shook the streaming 
 water from his apparel, and with a cry of 
 triumph, bounded forward on his way. It 
 was long past noon ; half of the distance 
 had been traversed, and still Eobin 
 pressed onward with the same unwearied 
 speed. 
 
 The shepherd idly tending his flock, and 
 the lowland maid with jug or pail, looked 
 wonderingly after the youth^s flying figure, 
 as he shot past them, deeming, no doubt, 
 that some evil sprite was abroad. At length, 
 momentarily overcome, Starhed paused and
 
 THE ARMOURERS DAUGHTER, 317 
 
 dashed the elf locks from his pallid brow; 
 feeling how necessary it was to husband his 
 remaining strength. 
 
 The sun poured forth a blaze of glorious 
 light as he travelled forward in his bright 
 career; the youth fixed his anxious gaze on 
 the glittering orb— away — away—messen- 
 ger of mercy — the sun makes no pause in 
 bis steadfast course, and may yet win the 
 race — of which the prize will be your Chief- 
 tain's life. 
 
 Once more Kobin flew on with a step 
 hardly less elastic than when first he started. 
 
 As he approached the frontier, so fre- 
 quently traversed, every stone was a land- 
 mark to che^r him on; but the fatigue now 
 began to tell on him sensibly; and dizzy 
 from the rapid motion, he could, with 
 difficulty, recognize the different hamlets 
 and towers visible in the distance. 
 
 A shallow brook crossed his path — one he 
 had often bounded over in sport — he essayed 
 the leap, but stumbled, and barely saved 
 himself from falling. For one moment he
 
 318 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 threw himself on the shelving bank, dipped 
 his palm in the stream and bathed his burn- 
 ing lips and brow — not one drop of that 
 cooling water did he allow to enter his 
 parched mouth, although he longed for the 
 draught with feverish intensity — evidently, 
 his powers of endurance would not bear 
 him much farther — his young strength was 
 failing, but his spirit was unquenched as 
 ever — he turned his straining eyes on the 
 sun, and once more he started on his weary 
 course. 
 
 There was a perceptible alteration in his 
 gait — his flying pace was slackened — each 
 breath he drew with a sob — still he toiled 
 onward. He dared not stop lest his limbs 
 could not again be set in motion. 
 
 The Heron's Haunt was now in sight — 
 he knew it was nigh at hand, but his flick- 
 ering gaze could not descry the grim old 
 fortress. His step reeled — he no longer 
 seemed to breathe — -a hoarse rattle issued 
 from his breast, but the stout heart within 
 was unsubdued — still he pressed onward. A
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 319 
 
 loud, well-remeoibered voice hailed him — 
 he waved his hand, for he had not the power 
 to reply — he rallied his energies for a last 
 effort — the ponderous gate of the castle was 
 swung open — he sprang through, and was 
 caught in the arms of his ancient ally, Dick 
 Lilburn. 
 
 The huge Border-rider felt the quivering 
 of the slight frame that clung to him for 
 support, and noted the ghastly pallor of 
 the countenance; with a rough gentleness 
 peculiar to himself, he bore his young com- 
 rade to the inner court, and deposited him 
 on a stone bench, raising his head, and 
 forbearing to question him until he bad 
 somewhat recovered. Every idler in the 
 castle gathered round the spot. Eobin 
 understood it all — he heard distinctly the 
 hum of voices — the saw the friendly faces 
 round him — he knew that he had attained 
 the desired haven — now was the moment — 
 now — his lips moved, but he could not 
 articulate — his haggard eye glanced towards 
 the sun — with a sudden exertion he raised
 
 320 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 
 
 himself on bis feet, made a gesture, as it 
 were, to demand silence, and then fell to 
 the ground in a state of insensibility. 
 
 A cordial was promptly administered. 
 His face retained tbe same bueless expres- 
 sion, but it would seem that the conscious- 
 ness of the duty he had to perform, caused 
 his senses to stagger back to life. 
 
 " The sun," he exclaimed, wildly, as he 
 started up. " Has the sun set? "What 
 time have we?" 
 
 And he stretched out his arm towards 
 the bright luminary still travelling west- 
 ward. 
 
 " There will be two hours and a half 
 good before the sun sets," returned Lilburn. 
 '' But is there anything to be done, Eob?" 
 
 The youth motioned for the restorative. 
 Then with a rapid tongue, and eager haste, 
 he recountered the history of their Chief's 
 capture, and his own interview with him. 
 He told how the order had arrived for John 
 Heron's removal to Edinburgh that night at 
 sunset, under the convoy of the Scottish
 
 Archers, and he hurriedly explained that his 
 only chance of life was a rescue on the 
 road. 
 
 The tab was not conclud'ed, €re every 
 man in the castle had volunteered for the 
 service ; however, twenty of the boldest 
 riders were selected from the rest to conduct 
 the expedition. The greatest confusion 
 instantly prevailed. Horses were saddled, 
 men equipped, and weapons brought forth 
 — and in less than half an hour from the 
 time that Eobin Starhed entered the Heron's 
 Haunt, a small but well-appointed train 
 rode from the gates, armed to the teeth, 
 and ready to brave every possible danger m 
 the service of their Chief, 
 
 P Q
 
 322 THE ARMOUEEK's DAUGHTEE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE CAMP. 
 
 Come away, come away, 
 
 Hark to the summons ! 
 Come in your war array, 
 
 Gentles and commons. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 Our narrative now carries us back to the 
 Scottish capita], King James's gay humour 
 had continued unabated, and the fete that 
 night was not less brilliant than the last, 
 while its jojaunce was unmarred by the oc-
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER, 323 
 
 curreiice of any untowai'd event, such as 
 had abruptly terminated the pastime of the 
 previous evening. 
 
 On the following day, it had been an- 
 nounced that tiie King intended to review, 
 on an extensive plain, without the fair cit}^, 
 the gallant army assembled by his liegemen 
 for the invasion of England, under the per- 
 sonal command of the sovereign. 
 
 In so popular a cause, few were found to 
 hang back; moreover, the various interests 
 which spurred men on to action in those 
 days, were all enlisted on the side of war. 
 Did any wish to achieve fame — serve ambi- 
 tion — gratify an ancient grudge — obtain 
 wealth, or court favour — where could there 
 be an opportunity more propitious than the 
 present for the attainment of his end. So 
 at least thought the different leaders, as 
 they donned their armour, and marshalled 
 their men under their respective pennons, 
 anxious to make a fair show in the eyes of 
 the spectators. 
 
 Early on the morn appnated for the
 
 324 THE armoueee's daughter, 
 
 martial display, Sir Konald Graham and 
 his English acquaintance rode together, at 
 a leisurely pace, to the encampment. 
 Wrapped in their dark mantles, the coats of 
 mail which they wore heneath were only 
 partially exposed to view. While the 
 horsemen pricked onward, their discourse 
 lightened the way. Their friendship had 
 been of rapid growth, and they had become 
 almost inseparable. Sir Eonald Graham 
 felt a strange pleasure in the company of 
 one who was acquainted with 1 he secret of 
 his love for the Lady Katherine — one to 
 whom he could breathe the one loved name 
 unrestrainedly, and in whose presence he 
 was not compelled to guard every move- 
 ment, lest his passion for the bride of the 
 Prince of York should be detected. Master 
 Dalton had, doubtless, his own motives for 
 so close a fellowship. 
 
 "Harkr exclaimed Sir Ronald; "the 
 swell of yon trumpet denotes that the camp 
 is near— and list you th3 sound of the 
 pipes."
 
 THE ARMOtTRER^S DAUGHTER. 325 
 
 They spurred their steeds towards some 
 rising ground, and then drew the rein. 
 
 'Twas a spirit-stirring scene that stretched 
 itself before them. The many-coloured 
 tents gleamed gaily in the distance — a 
 thousand banderols flaunted in the wind, 
 and on every side the sparkling sunbeams 
 were reflected dazzlingly upon spear and 
 lance. Far as the eye could reach, the 
 serried ranks were being ranged in fitting 
 order under the directions of their comman- 
 ders, and great was the diversity of appear- 
 ance and accoutrements between the widely- 
 spread bands. 
 
 Here was a file of men-at-arms, sheathed 
 in mail from head to foot, and trained to act 
 together with the utmost regularity and 
 discipline; there a line of archers from 
 Ettrick Forest, with their graceful forms 
 and far-famed bows, whose unerring aim 
 was often the theme of minstrers song. 
 One portion of the ground was occupied by 
 a company of burghers, lightly armed, and 
 wearing little defensive aimour, for they
 
 326 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 liked not the unaccustomed weight, and 
 preferred to run some additional risk rather 
 than be harassed by so cumbrous a burden ; 
 in close proximity appeared a body of moss- 
 troopers, and spearsmen from the Scottish 
 Borders, each man differing from his fellow 
 in weapons and garb, but no mean oppo- 
 nents were they, notwithstanding the irregu- 
 larity of their front; their muscular strength 
 had been brought to perfection by continual 
 exercise, and for the most part they had 
 literally been cradled in the lap of danger. 
 Equally untaught, but essentially different 
 in nature and habits were the wild Islemen, 
 yielding blind obedience to their own chief- 
 tains, and disavowing allegiance to any 
 other, even to the King himself. Couriers 
 were posting to and fro with busy activity ; 
 and knights and barons were gathering their 
 retainers around their unfurled standards. 
 
 Master Dalton looked at the goodly 
 array — a kingdom's strength — and he ut- 
 tered an inward malediction as he called to 
 mind that this warlike power had been
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 327 
 
 summoned to attack his native England, 
 foment civil war and broil in her peaceful 
 bosom. 
 
 ''• There is yet a chance," thought he, 
 " that dissension may be sown between 
 James Stuart and his young ally ; then 
 would this valiant host dissolve in a night, 
 and leave the presumptuous boy to hew out 
 his own path to the headsman's block." 
 
 Very different was the thought of Sir 
 Ronald Graham; glancing joyously on the 
 peopled plain, he plunged the rowel deep in 
 his horse's flanks, and made the animal per- 
 form a succession of lively caracoles. 
 
 " Yon display seems to please you well," 
 observed his companion. 
 
 '' What leal heart would not bound at 
 sight of so gallant a muster. 'T were 
 worth half a life to wield a sword in so 
 brave a company." 
 
 '' And what is the end you would com- 
 pass by joining the mighty armament?" de- 
 manded Dalton, in a sarcastic tone of voice 
 he could not always repress.
 
 32,8 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 " Honor !'^ replied the Cavalier, briefly. 
 
 " The breath of fools," returned the 
 Englishman. " Nay, bend not your brows 
 on me, man, but hearken. Suppose the ex- 
 pedition of your King should meet success, 
 what is the issue ! Eichard of York fills 
 Henry Tudor's throne; the conqueror enters 
 the English capital over his enemies' necks, 
 and his fair Kate owes to her lord a new 
 measure of love and reverence, for having 
 placed upon h^r dainty head a crown; 
 meantime lip thanks are rendered to all 
 concerned in the good work, and you. Sir 
 Ronald, are then dismissed from Court with 
 the rest of the worn-out swords and rusty 
 armour. How like you the commentary on 
 your text?^ 
 
 Graham made no reply, but the gloom 
 again gathered on his countenance, and 
 giving an impatient shrug, he urged his 
 steed forward. Dalton followed his lead, 
 and they pursued their course in silence 
 to the encampment. 
 
 As they approached closer to the scene
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 329 
 
 of action, the obstacles to their progress 
 multiplied, and they experienced consider- 
 difficulty in threading their way through 
 the steel-clad throng. On one side a gal- 
 lery, slightly raised, had been hastily con- 
 structed, for the accommodation of the 
 ladies of the Court, in order that they 
 might not be debarred a sight of the spec- 
 tacle. 
 
 As the fair dames assumed their seats, 
 there was a sudden rush of the spectators 
 to the spot, and our horsemen were almost 
 carried along with the inundation. Oppos- 
 ing manual resistance to the overwhelming 
 tide, they succeeded at length in extricating 
 themselves from the crowd, and then the 
 friends separated. Sir Konald Graham 
 gallopped off to his post in the Earl of 
 Iluntlv's division, and Master Dalton re- 
 mained on the watch to join the train of the 
 Adventurer immediately that he entered 
 the field. 
 
 He had not long to tarry. A joyous
 
 330 THE armouree's daughter. 
 
 burst of acclaim announced the appearance 
 of King James. 
 
 He was surrounded by the gentlemen of 
 his household, and beside him rode the 
 Adventurer, attended by a body of English 
 volunteers, who gradually became mingled 
 with the Scottish gentles. Behind these 
 marched a small party of Burgundians, 
 sent over by the Duchess of Burgundy 
 wdth her reputed nephew. 
 
 Comprehending little of what they saw, 
 and startled by the wild dress and war-cry 
 of the Highlanders, the foreign troops 
 glanced ever and anon warily at their arms, 
 and kept their attention fixed on their own 
 immediate officer. 
 
 Now the business of the day coihmenced. 
 Each separate band was reviewed by James, 
 and afterwards addressed by him in the 
 dialect and style most suitable to the pre- 
 dilections of the hearers: his princely affa- 
 bility winning a hearty blessiug from many 
 a loval breast.
 
 THE armourer's DAUGHTER. 331 
 
 The review was over. The Lady Kathe- 
 rine had presented the banner worked by 
 her own fair hands, to her father's followers, 
 and the boon had been duly acknowledged 
 on bended knee by the leaders of the divi- 
 sion. 
 
 The ceremony having terminated; James 
 spurred his charger to the gallery, in the 
 centre whereof sat the Lady Katherine — 
 her sweet face flushing, her proud lip tre- 
 mulous with the emotion of the moment, 
 and her eye sparkling brighter even than 
 the sun-beam. 
 
 " Now by my sceptre ! fair cousin,'' said 
 the King, as he looked on her, " 'tis easy to 
 read that the clash of swords rings as sweet 
 music in your ear as in my own. I would 
 have you ever at the head of our armies, 
 that brave men might see in you the star of 
 victory, and the faint-hearted take shame 
 to learn courage from a woman." 
 
 " Know you not, my liege," returned 
 Katherine, smiling, " that I have also the 
 blood of the Stuart in my veins. Marvel
 
 332 THE armourer's daughter. 
 
 not then if I show a toiicli of their 
 spirit." 
 
 " You are my own saucy kinswoman,'' 
 replied the King, '' and I will make coni- 
 plaint to your lord that while you carry 
 the badge of the White Rose on your bosom 
 you wear the rebel roses on your cheek — 
 although it pleases us to see you have the 
 grace to blush for your offence." 
 
 And James turned his laughing glance 
 full on Katherine, whose cheek became 
 every moment of a deeper color, as she felt 
 the general observation attracted towards 
 her. Richard now rode up to join the King, 
 and pointing to the countless array that 
 covered the plain on all sides, said : 
 
 " Happy is the Monarch at whose beck 
 yon valiant host has sprung to arms. The 
 captainship of that gallant band would 
 move an envy more than the pomp and 
 pageant of a crown."' 
 
 '' Certes, the office of leading those brave 
 hearts is not undervalued by us,'' answered 
 the Monarch. " Dear to us likewise is the
 
 fHE abmofreb's dacghter. 333 
 
 cause for which our sword leaves the sheath ; 
 the assertion of our own dignitj, inrol- 
 Ting vengeance for the death of our trusty 
 subject and counsellor; neither are we in- 
 different tx) the hope of seeing our new 
 kinsman and ally of the house of York 
 win his way to the English throne/' 
 
 •• My poor words can ill express my 
 sense of your Highuess's benefits ; my grati- 
 tude for your generous aid will take a whole 
 life taprove.' 
 
 " Away with such cold ceremony ! When 
 we ride side by side into London, when 
 your kingly inheritance recognizes your 
 sway — then, and not till then, will we speak 
 of thanks." 
 
 As the King spoke, he extended his 
 mailed hand and grasped that of the Ad- 
 venturer — during some moments they re- 
 tained the same attitude, while the latter 
 expressed in animated tenns his affectionate 
 regard. The friendly act was quickljr 
 noted by the curious eyes that were seldom 
 long diverted from the royal person, and
 
 334 THE armourer's, daughter. 
 
 then issued from thousands of throats, a 
 shout, long, loud, and deep — the trumpets 
 sounded their most triumphant measure — 
 the ladies waved their kerchiefs — still amid 
 the din, the outcries of that armed multi- 
 tude rang through the air: 
 
 " God save King James — Long live 
 Richard of York." 
 
 And so ends the first act ol our drama. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T C. Newdy, Printer, 30, Welbcck-street, Cavendish -«q.
 
 Mr. NEWBY'S new WORKS. ■ 
 
 ]^fow ready. In three Vols. 
 THE 
 
 FOREST AND THE FORTRESS 
 
 A eoma:n^ce of the 1 9th. century 
 
 BY Miss LAURA JEWRY. 
 
 Author of * The Ransom/ ' The Vassal,' &c. 
 
 This is the best romance we have read since the days of 
 Sir Walter Scott. The scene in which it is laid is new to the 
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 Mr. NEWBrS NEW WORKS. 
 
 In Three Vols. 
 
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 it opens with an extraordinary mystery which remains 
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