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From the estate of
MRS. FRED T. RANNEY
UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA LIBRARY

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Mary Stuart
From a drawing by Fr. Flameng
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ANDEDNESSE COLDEANUPAN TATARSARANDE REESESAMA LOGO KAMERANSTALTENZITAKOKEILED DESISERATANNYA PEX PREPARAGONA KANU KOYUN TEURALLESENELEK SEKUNDS BRASOARA PE TASOMNIAZACILAREN ROTANINGERNENANSNE
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KAFAKKASINDANE GARANTE SEVEN TURULA KRAJINE,
averley Novels
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BY
CAR DE SALAAMSCARY DOZANIA SHET SOFTENA READ MASKOLEN KERETA SERTA PASMARAGINEN ENNU TEISM PLANER MONSTA VARINGEN BAYISININKONDADE
Sir Walter Scott
BART.
PETERENG
VOLUME XI
VODE, MELAKUKANPURE KOMUNIDADELPHIARSKALNESSMAN 25E MELD UVC" ELNA
CALLAOREETTINESANAN CHARZIO
The Abbot
BYGGAGNAT GARNA TE DRAUDANTISKNET.
JOHN D. MORRIS & COMPANY
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SAVER SONGEREN MAT MESAJLATTENERSON KESANGEANTASCINANTES NOVEMBARRA EN
MELROSE EDITION DE LUXE
This edition of the complete Waverley
Novels by Sir Walter Scott, printed for
subscribers only, is limited to One
Thousand numbered sets of which this is
305
No.
Mary Stuart (Photogravure)
<c
wils, els
AFL8544-2
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"c
FACING PAGE
46
91
'Roland, go kiss the hand of the noble Knight'
"'Well done, thou good and faithful servant!' "
"The appearance of the crowd was grotesque in the extreme".. 144
"'A Seyton! A Seyton!
"Is this the jackanape page for whom we have waited so
s
Set on!
Set on! Set on!'
"
184
long?""
239
FRONTISPIECE
""
Beware, Madam!' said Lindesay, snatching hold of the
Queen's arm”
"The insulted maiden bestowed on the wag a buffet"..
"Mary seemed surprised by the train of horrible ideas".
"Mary flung the casement open”.
277
329
383
449
Mary Stuart (Photogravure)
66
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
'Roland, go kiss the hand of the noble Knight'
"'Well done, thou good and faithful servant!'
"The appearance of the crowd was grotesque in the extreme".. 144
46
91
184
'A Seyton! A Seyton! Set on!
"Is this the jackanape page for
""
long?'
""
""
ور
15
FRONTISPIECE
Set on!'""
whom we have waited so
'Beware, Madam!' said Lindesay, snatching hold of the
Queen's arm"
"The insulted maiden bestowed on the wag a buffet".
"Mary seemed surprised by the train of horrible ideas”.
"Mary flung the casement open"..
•
239
277
329
383
449
INTRODUCTION TO THE ABBOT.
FROM what is said in the Introduction to the Monastery, it
must necessarily be inferred that the Author considered that
romance as something very like a failure. It is true, the
booksellers did not complain of the sale, because, unless on
very felicitous occasions, or on those which are equally the
reverse, literary popularity is not gained or lost by a single
publication. Leisure must be allowed for the tide both to
flow and ebb. But I was conscious that, in my situation, not
to advance was in some degree to recede, and being naturally
unwilling to think that the principle of decay lay in myself, I
was at least desirous to know of a certainty whether the de-
gree of discountenance which I had incurred was now owing
to an ill-managed story or an ill-chosen subject.
I was never, I confess, one of those who are willing to sup-
pose the brains of an author to be a kind of milk, which will
not stand above a single creaming, and who are eternally harp-
ing to young authors to husband their efforts, and to be chary
of their reputation, lest it grow hackneyed in the eyes of men.
Perhaps I was, and have always been, the more indifferent to
the degree of estimation in which I might be held as an author
because I did not put so high a value as many others upon
what is termed literary reputation in the abstract, or at least
upon the species of popularity which had fallen to my share;
for though it were worse than affectation to deny that my
vanity was satisfied at my success in the department in which
chance had in some measure enlisted me, I was, nevertheless,
far from thinking that the novelist or romance-writer stands
high in the ranks of literature. But I spare the reader farther
egotism on this subject, as I have expressed my opinion very
8
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
fully in the Introductory Epistle to the Fortunes of Nigel,
and, although it be composed in an imaginary character, it is
as sincere and candid as if it had been written "without my
gown and band.'
"2
In a word, when I considered myself as having been un-
successful in the Monastery, I was tempted to try whether
I could not restore, even at the risk of totally losing, my so-
called reputation by a new hazard. I looked round my library,
and could not but observe that, from the time of Chaucer to
that of Byron, the most popular authors had been the most
prolific. Even the aristarch Johnson allowed that the quality
of readiness and profusion had a merit in itself, independent
of the intrinsic value of the composition. Talking of Churchill,
I believe, who had little merit in his prejudiced eyes, he allowed
him that of fertility, with some such qualification as this:
"A crab-apple can bear but crabs after all; but there is a
great difference in favour of that which bears a large quanti-
ty of fruit, however indifferent, and that which produces only
a few.”
Looking more attentively at the patriarchs of literature,
whose career was as long as it was brilliant, I thought I per-
ceived that in the busy and prolonged course of exertion there
were no doubt occasional failures, but that still those who were
favourites of their age triumphed over these miscarriages. By
the new efforts which they made, their errors were obliterated,
they became identified with the literature of their country,
and after having long received law from the critics, came in
some degree to impose it. And when such a writer was at
length called from the scene, his death first made the public
sensible what a large share he had occupied in their attention.
I recollected a passage in Grimm's Correspondence, that, while
the unexhausted Voltaire sent forth tract after tract, to the
very close of a long life, the first impression made by each as
it appeared was that it was inferior to its predecessors-an
opinion adopted from the general idea that the Patriarch of
Ferney must at last find the point from which he was to de-
cline. But the opinion of the public finally ranked in succes-
sion the last of Voltaire's Essays on the same footing with
INTRODUCTION TO THE ABBOT.
9
The
those which had formerly charmed the French nation.
inference from this and similar facts seemed to me to be that
new works were often judged of by the public, not so much
from their own intrinsic merit, as from extrinsic ideas which
readers had previously formed with regard to them, and over
which a writer might hope to triumph by patience and by
exertion. There is a risk in the attempt:
If he fall in, good-night, or sink or swim.
But this is a chance incident to every literary attempt, and
by which men of a sanguine temper are little moved.
I may illustrate what I mean by the feelings of most men
in travelling. If we have found any stage particularly tedious
or in an especial 'degree interesting, particularly short or much
longer than we expected, our imaginations are so apt to exag-
gerate the original impression that, on repeating the journey,
we usually find that we have considerably overrated the pre-
dominating quality, and the road appears to be duller or more
pleasant, shorter or more tedious, than what we expected, and,
consequently, than what is the actual case. It requires a third
or fourth journey to enable us to form an accurate judgment
of its beauty, its length, or its other attributes.
In the same manner, the public, judging of a new work,
which it receives perhaps with little expectation, if surprised
into applause, becomes very often ecstatic, gives a great deal
more approbation than is due, and elevates the child of its
immediate favour to a rank which, as it affects the author, it
is equally difficult to keep and painful to lose. If, on this
occasion, the author trembles at the height to which he is
raised, and becomes afraid of the shadow of his own renown,
he may indeed retire from the lottery with the prize which he
has drawn, but, in future ages, his honour will be only in pro-
portion to his labours. If, on the contrary, he rushes again
into the lists, he is sure to be judged with severity propor-
tioned to the former favour of the public. If he be daunted
by a bad reception on this second occasion, he may again be-
come a stranger to the arena. If, on the contrary, he can
keep his ground, and stand the shuttlecock's fate, of being
10
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
struck up and down, he will probably, at length, hold with
some certainty the level in public opinion which he may
be found to deserve; and he may perhaps boast of arresting
the general attention, in the same manner as the Bachelor
Samson Carrasco of fixing the weathercock La Giralda of Se-
ville for weeks, months, or years, that is, for as long as the
wind shall uniformly blow from one quarter. To this de-
gree of popularity the Author had the hardihood to aspire,
while, in order to attain it, he assumed the daring resolution
to keep himself in the view of the public by frequent appear-
ances before them.
It must be added, that the Author's incognito gave him the
greater courage to renew his attempts to please the public, and
an advantage similar to that which Jack the Giant-killer re-
ceived from his coat of darkness. In sending the Abbot forth
so soon after the Monastery, he had used the well-known prac-
tice recommended by Bassanio:
In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot another of the self-same flight,
The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth.
THE
And, to continue the simile, his shafts, like those of the Lesser
Ajax, were discharged more readily that the archer was as in-
accessible to criticism, personally speaking, as the Grecian
archer under his brother's sevenfold shield.
Should the reader desire to know upon what. principles the
Abbot was expected to amend the fortune of the Monastery, I
have first to request his attention to the Introductory Epistle
addressed to the imaginary Captain Clutterbuck-a mode by
which, like his predecessors in this walk of fiction, the real
Author makes one of his dramatis personæ the means of com-
municating his own sentiments to the public, somewhat more
artificially than by a direct address to the readers. A pleas-
ing French writer of fairy tales, Monsieur Pajon, author of
the History of Prince Soly, has set a diverting example of the
same machinery, where he introduces the presiding Genius of
the land of Romance conversing with one of the personages of
the tale.
INTRODUCTION TO THE ABBOT.
11
4
In this Introductory Epistle, the Author communicates, in
confidence, to Captain Clutterbuck, his sense that the White
Lady had not met the taste of the times, and his reason for
withdrawing her from the scene. The Author did not deem
it equally necessary to be candid respecting another alteration.
The Monastery was designed, at first, to have contained some
supernatural agency, arising out of the fact that Melrose had
been the place of deposit of the great Robert Bruce's heart.
The writer shrunk, however, from filling up, in this particu-
lar, the sketch as it was originally traced; nor did he venture
to resume, in the continuation, the subject which he had left
unattempted in the original work. Thus, the incident of the
discovery of the heart, which occupies the greater part of the
Introduction to the Monastery, is a mystery unnecessarily in-
troduced, and which remains at last very imperfectly explained.
In this particular, I was happy to shroud myself by the ex-
ample of the author of Caleb Williams, who never condescends
to inform us of the actual contents of that iron chest which
makes such a figure in his interesting work, and gives the
name to Mr. Colman's drama.
The public had some claim to inquire into this matter, but
it seemed indifferent policy in the Author to give the explana-
tion. For, whatever praise may be due to the ingenuity which
brings to a general combination all the loose threads of a nar-
rative, like the knitter at the finishing of her stocking, I am
greatly deceived if in many cases a superior advantage is not
attained by the air of reality which the deficiency of explana-
tion attaches to a work written on a different system. In life
itself, many things befall every mortal of which the individual
never knows the real cause or origin; and were we to point out
the most marked distinction between a real and a fictitious nar-
rative, we would say, that the former, in reference to the remote
causes of the events it relates, is obscure, doubtful, and mys-
terious; whereas, in the latter case, it is a part of the author's
duty to afford satisfactory details upon the causes of the sepa-
rate events he has recorded, and, in a word, to account for every-
thing. The reader, like Mungo in the Padlock, will not be
satisfied with hearing what he is not made fully to comprehend.
12
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
I omitted, therefore, in the Introduction to the Abbot, any
attempt to explain the previous story or to apologise for
unintelligibility.
Neither would it have been prudent to have endeavoured to
proclaim, in the Introduction to the Abbot, the real spring by
which I hoped it might attract a greater degree of interest
than its immediate predecessor. A taking title, or the an-
nouncement of a popular subject, is a recipe for success much
in favour with booksellers, but which authors will not always
find efficacious. The cause is worth a moment's examination.
There occur in every country some peculiar historical char-
acters, which are, like a spell or charm, sovereign to excite
curiosity and attract attention, since every one in the slightest
degree interested in the land which they belong to has heard
much of them, and longs to hear more. A tale turning on
the fortunes of Alfred or Elizabeth in England, or of Wallace
or Bruce in Scotland, is sure by the very announcement to ex-
cite public curiosity to a considerable degree, and ensure the
publisher's being relieved of the greater part of an impression,
even before the contents of the work are known. This is of
the last importance to the bookseller, who is at once, to use a
technical phrase, "brought home," all his outlay being repaid.
But it is a different case with the author, since it cannot be
denied that we are apt to feel least satisfied with the works
of which we have been induced, by titles and laudatory adver-
tisements, to entertain exaggerated expectations. The inten-
tion of the work has been anticipated, and is conceived or mis-
represented, and although the difficulty of executing the work
again reminds us of Hotspur's task of "o'erwalking a current
roaring loud," yet the adventurer must look for more ridicule
if he fails than applause if he executes his undertaking.
Notwithstanding a risk which should make authors pause
ere they adopt a theme which, exciting general interest and
curiosity, is often the preparative for disappointment, yet it
would be an injudicious regulation which should deter the poet
or painter from attempting to introduce historical portraits
merely from the difficulty of executing the task in a satisfac-
tory manner. Something must be trusted to the generous
INTRODUCTION TO THE ABBOT.
13
impulse, which often thrusts an artist upon feats of which he
knows the difficulty, while he trusts courage and exertion may
afford the means of surmounting it.
©
It is especially when he is sensible of losing ground with
the public that an author may be justified in using with ad-
dress such selection of subject or title as is most likely to pro-
cure a rehearing. It was with these feelings of hope and ap-
prehension that I ventured to awaken, in a work of fiction, the
memory of Queen Mary, so interesting by her wit, her beauty,
her misfortunes, and the mystery which still does, and probably
always will, overhang her history. In doing so, I was aware
that failure would be a conclusive disaster, so that my task
was something like that of an enchanter who raises a spirit over
whom he is uncertain of possessing an effectual control; and I
naturally paid attention to such principles of composition as I
conceived were best suited to the historical novel.
Enough has been already said to explain the purpose of
composing the Abbot. The historical references are, as usual,
explained in the notes. That which relates to Queen Mary's
escape from Lochleven Castle is a more minute account of that
romantic adventure than is to be found in the histories of the
period.
ABBOTSFORD, 1st January 1881.
INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE
FROM
THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY
OF HIS MAJESTY'S
ΤΟ
CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK,
REGIMENT OF INFANTRY.
DEAR CAPTAIN:
I am sorry to observe, by your last favour, that you dis-
approve of the numerous retrenchments and alterations which
I have been under the necessity of making on the Manuscript
of your friend, the Benedictine, and I willingly make you the
medium of apology to many who have honoured me more than
I deserve.
I admit that my retrenchments have been numerous, and
leave gaps in the story, which, in your original manuscript,
would have run wellnigh to a fourth volume, as my printer
assures me. I am sensible, besides, that, in consequence of
the liberty of curtailment you have allowed me, some parts of
the story have been huddled up without the necessary details.
But, after all, it is better that the travellers should have to
step over a ditch than to wade through a morass: that the
reader should have to suppose what may easily be inferred
than be obliged to creep through pages of dull explanation.
I have struck out, for example, the whole machinery of the
White Lady, and the poetry by which it is so ably supported
in the original manuscript. But you must allow that the pub-
lic taste gives little encouragement to those legendary super-
stitions which formed alternately the delight and the terror of
16
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
our predecessors. In like manner, much is omitted illustrative
of the impulse of enthusiasm in favour of the ancient religion
in Mother Magdalen and the abbot. But we do not feel deep
sympathy at this period with what was once the most power-
ful and animating principle in Europe, with the exception of
that of the Reformation, by which it was successfully opposed.
You rightly observe that these retrenchments have rendered
the title no longer applicable to the subject, and that some
other would have been more suitable to the work in its present
state than that of the abbot, who made so much greater figure
in the original, and for whom your friend, the Benedictine,
seems to have inspired you with a sympathetic respect. I
must plead guilty to this accusation, observing, at the same
time, in manner of extenuation, that though the objection
might have been easily removed by giving a new title to the
work, yet, in doing so, I should have destroyed the necessary
cohesion between the present history and its predecessor the
Monastery, which I was unwilling to do, as the period and
several of the personages were the same.
After all, my good friend, it is of little consequence what
the work is called, or on what interest it turns, provided it
catches the public attention; for the quality of the wine,
could we but ensure it, may, according to the old proverb,
render the bush unnecessary or of little consequence.
I congratulate you upon your having found it consistent
with prudence to establish your tilbury, and approve of the
colour, and of your boy's livery (subdued green and pink).
As you talk of completing your descriptive poem on the Ruins
of Kennaquhair, with Notes by an Antiquary, I hope you have
procured a steady horse.
I remain, with compliments to all friends, dear Captain,
very much
!
Yours, etc. etc. etc.,
THE AUTHOR OF 66 WAVERLEY."
THE ABBOT.
CHAPTER I.
Domum mansit, lanam fecit.
ANCIENT ROMAN EPITAPH.
She keepit close the hous, and birlit at the quhele.
GAWAIN DOUGLAS.
THE time which passes over our heads so imperceptibly
makes the same gradual change in habits, manners, and char-
acter as in personal appearance. At the revolution of every
five years we find ourselves another, and yet the same: there
is a change of views, and no less of the light in which we re-
gard them, a change of motives as well as of actions. Nearly
twice that space had glided away over the head of Halbert
Glendinning and his lady betwixt the period of our former
narrative, in which they played a distinguished part, and the
date at which our present tale commences.
Two circumstances only had embittered their union, which
was otherwise as happy as mutual affection could render it.
The first of these was indeed the common calamity of Scot-
land, being the distracted state of that unhappy country,
where every man's sword was directed against this neighbour's
bosom. Glendinning had proved what Murray expected of
him, a steady friend, strong in battle and wise in council, ad-
hering to him, from motives of gratitude, in situations where
by his own unbiassed will he would either have stood neuter
or have joined the opposite party. Hence, when danger was
near-and it was seldom far distant-Sir Halbert Glendin-
ning, for he now bore the rank of knighthood, was perpetu-
ally summoned to attend his patron on distant expeditions, or
2
18
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
on perilous enterprises, or to assist him with his counsel in
the doubtful intrigues of a half-barbarous court.
He was
thus frequently, and for a long space, absent from his castle
and from his lady; and to this ground of regret we must add,
that their union had not been blessed with children, to occupy
the attention of the Lady of Avenel while she was thus de-
prived of her husband's domestic society.
On such occasions she lived almost entirely secluded from
the world, within the walls of her maternal mansion. Visiting
amongst neighbours was a matter entirely out of the question,
unless on occasions of solemn festival, and then it was chiefly
confined to near kindred. Of these the Lady of Avenel had
none who survived, and the dames of the neighbouring barons
affected to regard her less as the heiress of the house of Av-
enel than as the wife of a peasant, the son of a church-vassal,
raised up to mushroom eminence by the capricious favour of
Murray.
This pride of ancestry, which rankled in the bosom of the
ancient gentry, was more openly expressed by their ladies,
and was, moreover, embittered not a little by the political
feuds of the time, for most of the Southron chiefs were
friends to the authority of the Queen, and very jealous of the
power of Murray. The Castle of Avenel was, therefore, on
all these accounts, as melancholy and solitary a residence for
its lady as could well be imagined. Still it had the essential
recommendation of great security. The reader is already
aware that the fortress was built upon an islet in a small lake,
and was only accessible by a causeway, intersected by a double
ditch, defended by two drawbridges, so that, without artil-
lery, it might in those days be considered as impregnable. It
was only necessary, therefore, to secure against surprise, and
the service of six able men within the castle was sufficient for
that purpose. If more serious danger threatened, an ample
garrison was supplied by the male inhabitants of a little ham-
let which, under the auspices of Halbert Gendinning, had
arisen on a small piece of level ground, betwixt the lake and
the hill, nearly adjoining to the spot where the causeway
joined the mainland. The Lord of Avenel had found it an
THE ABBOT.
19
-
easy matter to procure inhabitants, as he was not only a kind
and beneficent over-lord, but well qualified, both by his ex-
perience in arms, his high character for wisdom and integrity,
and his favour with the powerful Earl of Murray, to protect
and defend those who dwelt under his banner. In leaving
his castle for any length of time, he had, therefore, the con-
solation to reflect that this village afforded, on the slightest
notice, a band of thirty stout men, which was more than suffi-
cient for its defence; while the families of the villagers, as
was usual on such occasions, fled to the recesses of the moun-
tains, drove their cattle to the same places of shelter, and left
the enemy to work their will on their miserable cottages.
1
One guest only resided generally, if not constantly, at the
Castle of Avenel. This was Henry Warden, who now felt
himself less able for the stormy task imposed on the Reform-
ing clergy; and having by his zeal given personal offence to
many of the leading nobles and chiefs, did not consider him-
self as perfectly safe unless when within the walls of the
strong mansion of some assured friend. He ceased not, how-
ever, to serve his cause as eagerly with his pen as he had for-
merly done with his tongue, and had engaged in a furious and
acrimonious contest concerning the sacrifice of the mass, as it
was termed, with the Abbot Eustatius, formerly the sub-prior
of Kennaquhair. Answers, replies, duplies, triplies, quadru-
plies followed thick upon each other, and displayed, as is not
unusual in controversy, fully as much zeal as Christian charity.
The disputation very soon became as celebrated as that of John
Knox and the Abbot of Crossraguel, raged nearly as fiercely,
and, for aught I know, the publications to which it gave rise
may be as precious in the eyes of bibliographers.' But the
engrossing nature of his occupation rendered the theologian
not the most interesting companion for a solitary female;
and his grave, stern, and absorbed deportment, which seldom
showed any interest except in that which concerned his relig-
ious profession, made his presence rather add to than diminish
S
C
¹ The tracts which appeared in the disputation between the Scottish Re-
former and Quentin Kennedy, Abbot of Crossraguel, are among the scarc-
est in Scottish bibliography. See M'Crie's Life of Knox, p. 258.
20
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the gloom which hung over the Castle of Avenel.
To super·
intend the tasks of numerous female domestics was the prin-
cipal part of the lady's daily employment; her spindle and
distaff, the Bible, and a solitary walk upon the battlements of
the castle, or upon the causeway, or occasionally, but more sel-
dom, upon the banks of the little lake, consumed the rest of
the day. But so great was the insecurity of the period that,
when she ventured to extend her walk beyond the hamlet, the
warder on the watch-tower was directed to keep a sharp look-
out in every direction, and four or five men held themselves
in readiness to mount and sally forth from the castle on the
slightest appearance of alarm.
Thus stood affairs at the castle, when, after an absence of
several weeks, the Knight of Avenel, which was now the title
most frequently given to Sir Halbert Glendinning, was daily
expected to return home. Day after day, however, passed
away, and he returned not. Letters in those days were rarely
written, and the knight must have resorted to a secretary to
express his intentions in that manner; besides, intercourse of
all kinds was precarious and unsafe, and no man cared to give
any public intimation of the time and direction of a journey,
since, if his route were publicly known, it was always likely he
might in that cașe meet with more enemies than friends upon
the road. The precise day, therefore, of Sir Halbert's return
was not fixed, but that which his lady's fond expectation had
calculated upon in her own mind had long since passed, and
hope delayed began to make the heart sick.
It was upon the evening of a sultry summer's day, when
the sun was half-sunk behind the distant western mountains-
of Liddesdale, that the lady took her solitary walk on the bat-
tlements of a range of buildings, which formed the front of
the castle, where a flat roof of flagstones presented a broad
and convenient promenade. The level surface of the lake,
undisturbed except by the occasional dipping of a teal-duck
or coot, was gilded with the beams of the setting luminary,
and reflected, as if in a golden mirror, the hills amongst which
it lay embosomed. The scene, otherwise so lonely, was occa-
sionally enlivened by the voices of the children in the village,
1
THE ABBOT.
21
:
which, softened by distance, reached the ear of the lady in her
solitary walk, or by the distant call of the herdsman, as he
guided his cattle from the glen in which they had pastured all
day, to place them in greater security for the night, in the im-
mediate vicinity of the village. The deep lowing of the cows
seemed to demand the attendance of the milk-maidens, who,
singing shrilly and merrily, strolled forth, each with her pail
on her head, to attend to the duty of the evening. The Lady
of Avenel looked and listened; the sounds which she heard
reminded her of former days, when her most important
employment, as well as her greatest delight, was to assist
Dame Glendinning and Tibb Tacket in milking the cows at
Glendearg. The thought was fraught with melancholy.
Why was I not," she said, "the peasant girl which in all
men's eyes I seemed to be!
I seemed to be! Halbert and I had then spent our
life peacefully in his native glen, undisturbed by the phantoms
either of fear or of ambition. His greatest pride had then
been to show the fairest herd in the halidome; his greatest
danger to repel some pilfering snatcher from the Border; and
the utmost distance which would have divided us would have
been the chase of some out-lying deer. But, alas! what avails
the blood which Halbert has shed, and the dangers which he
encounters, to support a name and rank, dear to him because
he has it from me, but which we shall never transmit to our
posterity? With me the name of Avenel must expire."
She sighed as these reflections arose, and, looking towards
the shore of the lake, her eye was attracted by a group of chil-
dren of various ages, assembled to see a little ship, constructed
by some village artist, perform its first voyage on the water.
It was launched amid the shouts of tiny voices and the clap-
ping of little hands, and shot bravely forth on its voyage
with a favouring wind, which promised to carry it to the
other side of the lake. Some of the bigger boys ran round
to receive and secure it on the farther shore, trying their
speed against each other as they sprang like young fawns
along the shingly verge of the lake. The rest, for whom such
a journey seemed too arduous, remained watching the motions.
of the fairy vessel from the spot where it had been launched.
66
22
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
The sight of their sports pressed on the mind of the childless
Lady of Avenel.
"Why are none of these prattlers mine?" she continued,
pursuing the tenor of her melancholy reflections. "Their
parents can scarce find them the coarsest food; and I, who
could nurse them in plenty-I am doomed never to hear a
child call me mother!"
The thought sunk on her heart with a bitterness which re-
sembled envy, so deeply is the desire of offspring implanted
in the female breast. She pressed her hands together as if
she were wringing them in the extremity of her desolate feel-
ing, as one whom Heaven had written childless. A large
staghound of the greyhound species approached at this mo-
ment, and, attracted perhaps by the gesture, licked her hands
and pressed his large head against them. He obtained the
desired caress in return, but still the sad impression remained.
"Wolf," she said, as if the animal could have understood
her complaints, "thou art a noble and beautiful animal; but,
alas! the love and affection that I long to bestow is of a
quality higher than can fall to thy share, though I love thee
much."
And, as if she were apologising to Wolf for withholding
from him any part of her regard, she caressed his proud head
and crest, while, looking in her eyes, he seemed to ask her
what she wanted, or what he could do to show his attach-
ment. At this moment a shriek of distress was heard on the
shore, from the playful group which had been lately so jovial.
The lady looked, and saw the cause with great agony.
The little ship, the object of the children's delighted atten-
tion, had stuck among some tufts of the plant which bears the
water-lily, that marked a shoal in the lake about an arrow-
flight from the shore. A hardy little boy, who had taken the
lead in the race round the margin of the lake, did not hesi-
tate a moment to strip off his "wylie-coat," plunge into the
water, and swim towards the object of their common solici-
tude. The first movement of the lady was to call for help;
but she observed that the boy swam strongly and fearlessly,
and as she saw that one or two villagers, who were distant
THE ABBOT.
23
spectators of the incident, seemed to give themselves no un-
easiness on his account, she supposed that he was accustomed
to the exercise, and that there was no danger. But whether,
in swimming, the boy had struck his breast against a sunken
rock, or whether he was suddenly taken with cramp, or
whether he had over-calculated his own strength, it so hap-
pened that, when he had disembarrassed the little plaything
from the flags in which it was entangled and sent it forward
on its course, he had scarce swam a few yards in his way to
the shore, when he raised himself suddenly from the water
and screamed aloud, clapping his hands at the same time with
an expression of fear and pain.
The Lady of Avenel, instantly taking the alarm, called
hastily to the attendants to get the boat ready.
But this was
an affair of some time. The only boat permitted to be used
on the lake was moored within the second cut which inter-
sected the canal, and it was several minutes ere it could be
unmoored and got under way. Meantime the Lady of Av-
enel, with agonising anxiety, saw that the efforts which the
poor boy made to keep himself afloat were now exchanged for
a faint struggling, which would soon have been over, but for
aid equally prompt and unhoped-for. Wolf, who, like some
of that large species of greyhound, was a practised water-dog,
had marked the object of her anxiety, and, quitting his mis-
tress's side, had sought the nearest point from which he could
with safety plunge into the lake. With the wonderful in-
stinct which these noble animals have so often displayed in
the like circumstances, he swam straight to the spot where his
assistance was so much wanted, and seizing the child's under-
dress in his mouth, he not only kept him afloat, but towed
him towards the causeway. The boat, having put off with a
couple of men, met the dog half-way, and relieved him of his
burden. They landed on the causeway, close by the gate of
the castle, with their yet lifeless charge, and were there met
by the Lady of Avenel, attended by one or two of her maidens,
eagerly waiting to administer assistance to the sufferer.
He was borne into the castle, deposited upon a bed, and
every mode of recovery resorted to which the knowledge of
24
WAVERLEY NÖVELS.
the times, and the skill of Henry Warden, who professed some
medical science, could dictate. For some time it was all in
vain, and the lady watched with unspeakable earnestness the
pallid countenance of the beautiful child. He seemed about
ten years old. His dress was of the meanest sort; but his
long curled hair, and the noble cast of his features, partook
not of that poverty of appearance. The proudest noble in
Scotland might have been yet prouder could he have called
that child his heir. While, with breathless anxiety, the Lady
of Avenel gazed on his well-formed and expressive features,
a slight shade of colour returned gradually to the cheek; sus-
pended animation became restored by degrees, the child sighed
deeply, opened his eyes, which to the human countenance pro-
duces the effect of light upon the natural landscape, stretched
his arms towards the lady, and muttered the word " Mother".
that epithet of all others which is dearest to the female ear.
"God, madam,” said the preacher, "has restored the child
to your wishes; it must be yours so to bring him up that he
may not one day wish that he had perished in his innocence.
""
"It shall be my charge," said the lady; and again throwing
her arms around the boy, she overwhelmed him with kisses
and caresses, so much was she agitated by the terror arising
from the danger in which he had been just placed, and by joy
at his unexpected deliverance.
"But you are not my mother," said the boy, recovering his
recollection, and endeavouring, though faintly, to escape from
the caresses of the Lady of Avenel—“you are not my mother.
Alas! I have no mother-only I have dreamt that I had one.”
"I will read the dream for you, my love," answered the
Lady of Avenel; "and I will be myself your mother. Surely
God has heard my wishes, and in His own marvellous manner
hath sent me an object on which my affections may expand
themselves." She looked towards Warden as she spoke.
The preacher hesitated what he should reply to a burst of
passionate feeling which, perhaps, seemed to him more enthu-
siastic than the occasion demanded. In the mean while, the
large staghound, Wolf, which, dripping wet as he was, had
followed his mistress into the apartment, and had sate by the
THE ABBOT.
25
bedside, a patient and quiet spectator of all the means used
for resuscitation of the being whom he had preserved, now be-
came impatient of remaining any longer unnoticed, and began
to whine and fawn upon the lady with his great rough paws.
"Yes," she said, "good Wolf, and you shall be remembered
also for your day's work; and I will think the more of you
for having preserved the life of a creature so beautiful."
But Wolf was not quite satisfied with the share of attention
which he thus attracted: he persisted in whining and pawing
upon his mistress, his caresses rendered still more troublesome
by his long shaggy hair being so much and thoroughly wetted,
till she desired one of the domestics, with whom he was famil-
iar, to call the animal out of the apartment. Wolf resisted
every invitation to this purpose, until his mistress positively
commanded him to be gone, in an angry tone; when, turning
towards the bed on which the boy still lay, half-awake to sen-
sation, half-drowned in the meanders of a fluctuating delirium,
he uttered a deep and savage growl, curled up his nose and
lips, showing his full range of white and sharpened teeth,
which might have matched those of an actual wolf, and then,
turning round, sullenly followed the domestic out of the
apartment.
"It is singular," said the lady, addressing Warden; "the
animal is not only so good-natured to all, but so particularly
fond of children. What can ail him at the little fellow whose
life he has saved?"
"Dogs," replied the preacher, "are but too like the human
race in their foibles, though their instinct be less erring than
the reason of poor mortal man when relying upon his own un-
assisted powers. Jealousy, my good lady, is a passion not
unknown to them, and they often evince it, not only with re-
spect to the preferences which they see given by their masters
to individuals of their own species, but even when their rivals
are children.
You have caressed that child much and eagerly,
and the dog considers himself as a discarded favourite.”
"It is a strange instinct," said the lady; "and from the
gravity with which you mention it, my reverend friend, I
would almost say that you supposed this singular jealousy of
26
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
my favourite, Wolf, was not only well founded but justifiable.
But perhaps you speak in jest?"
"I seldom jest," answered the preacher; "life was not lent
to us to be expended in that idle mirth which resembles the
crackling of thorns under the pot. I would only have you de-
rive, if it so please you, this lesson from what I have said, that
the best of our feelings, when indulged to excess, may give pain
to others. There is but one in which we may indulge to the
utmost limit of vehemence of which our bosom is capable, se-
cure that excess cannot exist in the greatest intensity to which
it can be excited: I mean the love of our Maker.”
(C
Surely," said the Lady of Avenel, "we are commanded by
the same authority to love our neighbour?"
"Ay, madam," said Warden, "but our love to God is to be
unbounded; we are to love Him with our whole heart, our
whole soul, and our whole strength. The love which the
precept commands us to bear to our neighbour has affixed to
it a direct limit and qualification: we are to love our neigh-
bour as ourself; as it is elsewhere explained by the great
commandment, that we must do unto him as we would that he
should do unto us. Here there is a limit and a bound even to
the most praiseworthy of our affections, so far as they are
turned upon sublunary and terrestrial objects. We are to
render to our neighbour, whatever be his rank or degree, that
corresponding portion of affection with which we could ration-
ally expect we should ourselves be regarded by those standing
in the same relation to us. Hence, neither husband nor wife,
neither son nor daughter, neither friend nor relation, are law-
fully to be made the objects of our idolatry. The Lord our
God is a jealous God, and will not endure that we bestow on
the creature that extremity of devotion which He who made us
demands as His own share. I say to you, lady, that even in
the fairest and purest and most honourable feelings of our nature
there is that original taint of sin which ought to make us pause
and hesitate ere we indulge them to excess.
""
66
"I understand not this, reverend sir," said the lady; nor
do I guess what I can have now said or done to draw down
on me an admonition which has something a taste of reproof.
}}
THE ABBOT.
27
"Lady," said Warden, "I crave your pardon if I have urged
aught beyond the limits of my duty. But consider whether,
in the sacred promise to be not only a protectress but a mother
to this poor child, your purpose may meet the wishes of the
noble knight your husband. The fondness which you have
lavished on the unfortunate, and, I own, most lovely, child
has met something like a reproof in the bearing of your house-
hold dog. Displease not your noble husband. Men, as well
as animals, are jealous of the affections of those they love."
"This is too much, reverend sir," said the Lady of Avenel,
greatly offended. "You have been long our guest, and have
received from the Knight of Avenel and myself that honour
and regard which your character and profession so justly de-
mand. But I am yet to learn that we have at any time au-
thorised your interference in our family arrangements, or
placed you as a judge of our conduct towards each other. I
pray this may be forborne in future.”
"Lady," replied the preacher, with the boldness peculiar to
the clergy of his persuasion at that time, "when you weary
of my admonitions, when I see that my services are no longer
acceptable to you and the noble knight your husband, I shall
know that my Master wills me no longer to abide here; and,
praying for a continuance of His best blessings on your family,
I will then, were the season the depth of winter, and the hour
midnight, walk out on yonder waste, and travel forth through
these wild mountains, as lonely and unaided, though far more
helpless, than when I first met your husband in the valley of
Glendearg. But while I remain here, I will not see you err
from the true path, no, not a hair's-breadth, without making
the old man's voice and remonstrance heard."
66
-
'Nay, but," said the lady, who both loved and respected
the good man, though sometimes a little offended at what she
conceived to be an exuberant degree of zeal, "we will not part
this way, my good friend. Women are quick and hasty in
their feelings; but, believe me, my wishes and my purposes
towards this child are such as both my husband and you will
appove of."
The clergyman bowed, and retreated to his own apartment.
28
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
CHAPTER II.
How steadfastly he fix'd his eyes on me--
His dark eyes shining through forgotten tears-
Then stretch'd his little arms, and call'd me mother
What could I do? I took the bantling home;
I could not tell the imp he had no mother.
Count Basil.
WHEN Warden had left the apartment, the Lady of Avenel
gave way to the feelings of tenderness which the sight of the
boy, his sudden danger, and his recent escape had inspired;
and no longer awed by the sternness, as she deemed it, of the
preacher, heaped with caresses the lovely and interesting child.
He was now in some measure recovered from the consequences
of his accident, and received passively, though not without
wonder, the tokens of kindness with which he was thus loaded.
The face of the lady was strange to him, and her dress differ-
ent and far more sumptuous than any he remembered. But
the boy was naturally of an undaunted temper; and indeed
children are generally acute physiognomists, and not only
pleased by that which is beautiful in itself, but peculiarly
quick in distinguishing and replying to the attentions of those
who really love them. If they see a person in company, though
a perfect stranger, who is by nature fond of children, the little
imps seem to discover it by a sort of freemasonry, while the
awkward attempts of those who make advances to them for
the purpose of recommending themselves to the parents usu-
ally fail in attracting their reciprocal attention. The little
boy, therefore, appeared in some degree sensible of the lady's
caresses, and it was with difficulty she withdrew herself from
his pillow to afford him leisure for necessary repose.
-
"To whom belongs our little rescued varlet?" was the first
question which the Lady of Avenel put to her handmaiden
Lilias, when they had retired to the hall.
،، To an old woman in the hamlet," said Lilias, "who is even
now come so far as the porter's lodge to inquire concerning his
safety. Is it your pleasure that she be admitted?”
THE ABBOT.
29
4
2
(6
"Is it my pleasure!" said the Lady of Avenel, echoing the
question with a strong accent of displeasure and surprise;
can you make any doubt of it? What woman but must pity
the agony of the mother whose heart is throbbing for the
safety of a child so lovely!"
"Nay, but, madam," said Lilias, "this woman is too old to
be the mother of the child; I rather think she must be his
grandmother, or some more distant relation.”
"Be she who she will, Lilias," replied the lady, “she must
have an aching heart while the safety of a creature so lovely is
uncertain. Go instantly and bring her hither. Besides, I
would willingly learn something concerning his birth."
Lilias left the hall, and presently afterwards returned, ush-
ering in a tall female very poorly dressed, yet with more pre-
tension to decency and cleanliness than was usually combined
with such coarse garments. The Lady of Avenel knew her
figure the instant she presented herself. It was the fashion
of the family that, upon every Sabbath, and on two evenings
in the week besides, Henry Warden preached or lectured in
the chapel at the castle. The extension of the Protestant faith
was, upon principle, as well as in good policy, a primary ob-
ject with the Knight of Avenel. The inhabitants of the vil-
lage were therefore invited to attend upon the instructions of
Henry Warden, and many of them were speedily won to the
doctrine which their master and protector approved. These
sermons, homilies, and lectures had made a great impression
on the mind of the Abbot Eustace, or Eustatius, and were a
sufficient spur to the severity and sharpness of his controversy
with his old fellow-collegiate; and, ere Queen Mary was de-
throned, and while the Catholics still had considerable author-
ity in the Border provinces, he more than once threatened to
levy his vassals, and assail and level with the earth that
stronghold of heresy, the Castle of Avenel. But notwith-
standing the abbot's impotent resentment, and notwithstand-
ing also the disinclination of the country to favour the new
religion, Henry Warden proceeded without remission in his
labours, and made weekly converts from the faith of Rome to
that of the Reformed church. Amongst those who gave most
30
WAVERLEY NOVELS. ·
earnest and constant attendance on his ministry was the aged
woman, whose form, tall, and otherwise too remarkable to be
forgotten, the lady had of late observed frequently as being
conspicuous amongst the little audience. She had indeed
more than once desired to know who that stately-looking wo-
man was, whose appearance was so much above the poverty
of her vestments. But the reply had always been that she
was an Englishwoman, who was tarrying for a season at the
hamlet, and that no one knew more concerning her. She now
asked her after her name and birth.
"Magdalen Græme is my name," said the woman; "I come
of the Græmes of Heathergill, in Nicol Forest, a people of
ancient blood."
،،
"And what make you," continued the lady, so far distant
from your home?”
"I have no home," said Magdalen Græme: "it was burnt
by your Border riders; my husband and my son were slain;
there is not a drop's blood left in the veins of any one which
is of kin to mine."
66 That is no uncommon fate in these wild times, and in this
unsettled land," said the lady; "the English hands have been
as deeply dyed in our blood as ever those of Scotsmen have
been in yours."
You have right to say it, lady," answered Magdalen
Græme; "for men tell of a time when this castle was not
strong enough to save your father's life, or to afford your
mother and her infant a place of refuge. And why ask ye
me, then, wherefore I dwell not in mine own home, and with
mine own people?"
"It was indeed an idle question," answered the lady, “where
misery so often makes wanderers; but wherefore take refuge
in a hostile country?"
'My neighbours were popish and mass-mongers,” said the
old woman; “it has pleased Heaven to give me a clearer sight
of the Gospel, and I have tarried here to enjoy the ministry
of that worthy man Henry Warden, who, to the praise and
comfort of many, teacheth the Evangel in truth and in sin-
cerity."
THE ABBOT.
31
"Are you poor?" again demanded the Lady of Avenel.
“You hear me ask alms of no one," answered the English-
woman.
Here there was a pause. The manner of the woman was,
if not disrespectful, at least much less than gracious; and she
appeared to give no encouragement to farther communication.
The Lady of Avenel renewed the conversation on a different
topic.
66
'You have heard of the danger in which your boy has been
placed?"
"I have, lady, and how by an especial providence he was
rescued from death. May Heaven make him thankful, and
me!"
"What relation do you bear to him?"
"I am his grandmother, lady, if it so please you; the only
relation he hath left upon earth to take charge of him.'
""
"The burden of his maintenance must necessarily be grievous
to you in your deserted situation?" pursued the lady.
"I have complained of it to no one," said Magdalen Græme,
with the same unmoved, dry, and unconcerned tone of voice
in which she had answered all the former questions.
"If," said the Lady of Avenel, "your grandchild could be
received into a noble family, would it not advantage both him
and you?"
"Received into a noble family!" said the old woman, draw-
ing herself up, and bending her brows until her forehead was
wrinkled into a frown of unusual severity; "and for what
purpose, I pray you?-to be my lady's page, or my lord's
jack-man, to eat broken victuals, and contend with other me-
nials for the remnants of the master's meal? Would you have
him to fan the flies from my lady's face while she sleeps, to
carry her train while she walks, to hand her trencher when
she feeds, to ride before her on horseback, to walk after her
on foot, to sing when she lists, and to be silent when she
bids? a very weathercock, which, though furnished in ap-
pearance with wings and plumage, cannot soar into the air—
cannot fly from the spot where it is perched, but receives all
its impulses, and performs all its revolutions, obedient to the
32
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
changeful breath of a vain woman? When the eagle of Hel-
vellyn perches on the tower of Lanercost, and turns and changes
his place to show how the wind sits, Roland Græme shall be
what you would make him."
CA
The woman spoke with a rapidity and vehemence which
seemed to have in it a touch of insanity; and a sudden sense
of the danger to which the child must necessarily be exposed
in the charge of such a keeper increased the lady's desire to
keep him in the castle, if possible.
"You mistake me, dame," she said, addressing the old
woman in a soothing manner; "I do not wish your boy to be
in attendance on myself, but upon the good knight, my hus-
band. Were he himself the son of a belted earl, he could not
better be trained to arms, and all that befits a gentleman, than
by the instructions and discipline of Sir Halbert Glendinning."
►
"Ay,” answered the old woman, in the same style of bitter
irony, "I know the wages of that service—a curse when the
corslet is not sufficiently brightened, a blow when the girth is
not tightly drawn; to be beaten because the hounds are at
fault; to be reviled because the foray is unsuccessful; to stain
his hands for the master's bidding in the blood alike of beast
and of man; to be a butcher of harmless deer, a murderer and
defacer of God's own image, not at his own pleasure, but at
that of his lord; to live a brawling ruffian, and a common
stabber—exposed to heat, to cold, to want of food, to all the
privations of an anchoret, not for the love of God, but for the
service of Satan; to die by the gibbet, or in some obscure
skirmish; to sleep out his brief life in carnal security, and to
awake in the eternal fire which is never quenched.”
"Nay," said the Lady of Avenel, "but to such unhallowed
course of life your grandson will not be here exposed. My
husband is just and kind to those who live under his banner;
and you yourself well know that youth have here a strict as
well as a good preceptor in the person of our chaplain.'
99
The old woman appeared to pause.
"You have named," she said, "the only circumstance which
can move me. I must soon onward, the vision has said it: I
must not tarry in the same spot-I must on-I must on, it is
THE ABBOT.
33
my weird. Swear, then, that you will protect the boy as if
he were your own, until I return hither and claim him, and I
will consent for a space to part with him. But especially
swear, he shall not lack the instruction of the godly man who
hath placed the Gospel truth high above those idolatrous
shavelings, the monks and friars.”
"Be satisfied, dame," said the Lady of Avenel; "the boy
shall have as much care as if he were born of my own blood.
Will you see him now?”
66
"No," answered the old woman, sternly; "to part is enough.
I go forth on my own mission. I will not soften my heart by
useless tears and wailings, as one that is not called to a duty."
"Will you not accept of something to aid you in your pil-
grimage?" said the Lady of Avenel, putting into her hand
two crowns of the sun. The old woman flung them down on
the table.
"Am I of the race of Cain," she said, "proud lady, that
you offer mẹ gold in exchange for my own flesh and blood?”
"I had no such meaning," said the lady, gently; "nor am
I the proud woman you term me. Alas! my own fortunes
might have taught me humility, even had it not been born
with me."
The old woman seemed somewhat to relax her tone of
severity.
"You are of gentle blood," she said, "else we had not par-
leyed thus long together. You are of gentle blood, and to
such," she added, drawing up her tall form as she spoke,
"pride is as graceful as is the plume upon the bonnet. But
for these pieces of gold, lady, you must needs resume them.
I need not money. I am well provided; and I may not care
for myself, nor think how, or by whom, I shall be sustained.
Farewell, and keep your word. Cause your gates to be opened
and your bridges to be lowered. I will set forward this very
night. When I come again I will demand from you a strict
account, for I have left with you the jewel of my life! Sleep
will visit me but in snatches, food will not refresh me, rest
will not restore my strength, until I see Roland Græme.
Once more, farewell."
3
34
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Make your obeisance, dame," said Lilias to Magdalen
Græme, as she retired-"make your obeisance to her lady-
ship, and thank her for her goodness, as is but fitting and
right."
The old woman turned short round on the officious waiting-
maid. "Let her make her obeisance to me then, and I will
return it. Why should I bend to her?—is it because her kirtle
is of silk, and mine of blue lockeram? Go to, my lady's wait-
ing-woman. Know that the rank of the man rates that of the
wife, and that she who marries a churl's son, were she a king's
daughter, is but a peasant's bride."
Lilias was about to reply in great indignation, but her
mistress imposed silence on her, and commanded that the old
woman should be safely conducted to the mainland.
"Conduct her safe!" exclaimed the incensed waiting-woman,
while Magdalen Græme left the apartment; "I say, duck her
in the loch, and then we will see whether she is witch or
not, as everybody in the village of Lochside will say and
swear. I marvel your ladyship could bear so long with her
insolence."
But the commands of the lady were obeyed, and the old
dame, dismissed from the castle, was committed to her for-
tune. She kept her word, and did not long abide in that
place, leaving the hamlet on the very night succeeding the
interview, and wandering no one asked whither. The Lady
of Avenel inquired under what circumstances she had appeared
among them, but could only learn that she was believed to be
the widow of some man of consequence among the Græmes
who then inhabited the Debateable Land, a name given to a
certain portion of territory which was the frequent subject
of dispute betwixt Scotland and England; that she had suffered
great wrong in some of the frequent forays by which that un-
fortunate district was wasted, and had been driven from her
dwelling-place. She had arrived in the hamlet no one knew
for what purpose, and was held by some to be a witch, by
others a zealous Protestant, and by others again a Catholic
devotee. Her language was mysterious, and her manners re-
pulsive; and all that could be collected from her conversation
THE ABBOT.
35
seemed to imply that she was under the influence either of a
spell or of a vow-there was no saying which, since she talked
as one who acted under a powerful and external agency.
Such were the particulars which the lady's inquiries were
able to collect concerning Magdalen Græme, being far too
meagre and contradictory to authorise any satisfactory deduc-
tion. In truth, the miseries of the time, and the various turns
of fate incidental to a frontier country, were perpetually chas-
ing from their habitations those who had not the means of de-
fence or protection. These wanderers in the land were too
often seen to excite much attention or sympathy. They re-
ceived the cold relief which was extorted by general feelings
of humanity; a little excited in some breasts, and perhaps
rather chilled in others, by the recollection that they who
gave the charity to-day might themselves want it to-morrow.
Magdalen Græme, therefore, came and departed like a shadow
from the neighbourhood of Avenel Castle.
The boy whom Providence, as she thought, had thus strange-
ly placed under her care, was at once established a favourite
with the lady of the castle. How could it be otherwise? He
became the object of those affectionate feelings which, finding
formerly no object on which to expand themselves, had in-
creased the gloom of the castle, and embittered the solitude of
its mistress. To teach him reading and writing as far as her
skill went, to attend to his childish comforts, to watch his
boyish sports, became the lady's favourite amusement. In
her circumstances, where the ear only heard the lowing of the
cattle from the distant hills, or the heavy step of the warder
as he walked upon his post, or the half-envied laugh of her
maiden as she turned her wheel, the appearance of the bloom-
ing and beautiful boy gave an interest which can hardly be
conceived by those who live amid gayer or busier scenes.
Young Roland was to the Lady of Avenel what the flower
which occupies the window of some solitary captive is to the
poor wight by whom it is nursed and cultivated-something
which at once excited and repaid her care; and in giving the
boy her affection, she felt, as it were, grateful to him for re-
leasing her from the state of dull apathy in which she had
36
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
+
usually found herself during the absence of Sir Halbert Glen-
dinning.
But even the charms of this blooming favourite were unable
to chase the recurring apprehensions which arose from her
husband's procrastinated return. Soon after Roland Græme
became a resident at the castle, a groom, despatched by Sir
Halbert, brought tidings that business of importance still de-
layed the knight at the court of Holyrood. The more distant
period which the messenger had assigned for his master's ar-
rival at length glided away, summer melted into autumn, and
autumn was about to give place to winter, and yet he came not.
CHAPTER III.
The waning harvest-moon shone broad and bright,
The warder's horn was heard at dead of night,
And while the folding portals wide were flung,
With trampling hoofs the rocky pavement rung.
LEYDEN.
"AND you, too, would be a soldier, Roland?" said the Lady
of Avenel to her young charge, while, seated on a stone chair
at one end of the battlements, she saw the boy attempt with
a long stick to mimic the motions of the warder as he alter-
nately shouldered, or ported, or sloped pike.
"Yes, lady," said the boy, for he was now familiar, and re-
plied to her questions with readiness and alacrity-" a soldier
will I be; for there ne'er was gentleman but who belted him
with the brand."
"Thou a gentleman!" said Lilias, who, as usual, was in at-
tendance; "such a gentleman as I would make of a bean-cod
with a rusty knife."
"Nay, chide him not, Lilias," said the Lady of Avenel,
"for, beshrew me, but I think he comes of gentle blood; see
how it musters in his face at your injurious reproof.
""
"Had I my will, madam," answered Lilias, "a good birchen
wand should make his colour muster to better purpose still."
"On my word, Lilias," said the lady, "one would think
THE ABBOT.
37
you had received harm from the poor boy; or is he so far on
the frosty side of your favour because he enjoys the sunny
side of mine?”
"Over Heaven's forbode, my lady!" answered Lilias; “I
have lived too long with gentles, I praise my stars for it, to
fight with either follies or fantasies, whether they relate to
beast, bird, or boy."
Lilias was a favourite in her own class, a spoiled domestic,
and often accustomed to take more license than her mistress
was at all times willing to encourage. But what did not
please the Lady of Avenel she did not choose to hear, and
thus it was on the present occasion. She resolved to look
more close and sharply after the boy, who had hitherto been
committed chiefly to the management of Lilias. He must,
she thought, be born of gentle blood; it were shame to think
otherwise of a form so noble and features so fair; the very
wildness in which he occasionally indulged, his contempt of
danger and impatience of restraint, had in them something
noble: assuredly the child was born of high rank.
Such was
her conclusion, and she acted upon it accordingly. The do-
mestics around her, less jealous or less scrupulous than Lilias,
acted as servants usually do, following the bias, and flattering,
for their own purposes, the humour of the lady; and the boy
soon took on him those airs of superiority which the sight
of habitual deference seldom fails to inspire. It seemed, in
truth, as if to command were his natural sphere, so easily did
he use himself to exact and receive compliance with his
humours. The chaplain, indeed, might have interposed to
check the air of assumption which Roland Græme so readily
indulged, and most probably would have willingly rendered
him that favour; but the necessity of adjusting with his
brethren some disputed points of church discipline had with-
drawn him for some time from the castle, and detained him in
a distant part of the kingdom.
Matters stood thus in the Castle of Avenel, when a winded
bugle sent its shrill and prolonged notes from the shore of the
lake, and was replied to cheerily by the signal of the warder.
The Lady of Avenel knew the sounds of her husband, and
38
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
rushed to the window of the apartment in which she was sit-
ting. A band of about thirty spearmen, with a pennon dis-
played before them, winded along the indented shores of the
lake, and approached the causeway. A single horseman rode
at the head of the party, his bright arms catching a glance of
the October sun as he moved steadily along. Even at that
distance, the lady recognised the lofty plume, bearing the
mingled colours of her own liveries and those of Glendonwyne,
blended with the holly-branch; and the firm seat and dignified
demeanour of the rider, joined to the stately motion of the
dark-brown steed, sufficiently announced Halbert Glendinning.
The lady's first thought was that of rapturous joy at her
husband's return; her second was connected with a fear which
had sometimes intruded itself, that he might not altogether
approve the peculiar distinction with which she had treated
her orphan ward. In this fear there was implied a conscious-
ness that the favour she had shown him was excessive; for
Halbert Glendinning was at least as gentle and indulgent as
he was firm and rational in the intercourse of his household;
and to her, in particular, his conduct had ever been most
affectionately tender.
Yet she did fear that, on the present occasion, her conduct
might incur Sir Halbert's censure; and hastily resolving that
she would not mention the anecdote of the boy until the next
day, she ordered him to be withdrawn from the apartment by
Lilias.
"I will not go with Lilias, madam," answered the spoiled
child, who had more than once carried his point by persever-
ance, and who, like his betters, delighted in the exercise of
such authority--"I will not go to Lilias's gousty room; I will
stay and see that brave warrior who comes riding so gallantly
along the drawbridge."
""
"You must not stay, Roland," said the lady, more positive-
ly than she usually spoke to her little favourite.
"I will," reiterated the boy, who had already felt his con-
sequence, and the probable chance of success.
"You will, Roland!" answered the lady; "what manner of
word is that? I tell you, you must go."
""
THE ABBOT.
39
“'Will,'” answered the forward boy, "is a word for a man,
and 'must' is no word for a lady."
""
'You are saucy, sirrah," said the lady. "Lilias, take him
with you instantly."
"I always thought," said Lilias, smiling, as she seized the
reluctant boy by the arm, "that my young master must give
place to my old one.”
66
And you too are malapert, mistress," said the lady. "Hath
the moon changed, that ye all of you thus forget yourselves?”
Lilias made no reply, but led off the boy, who, too proud
to offer unavailing resistance, darted at his benefactress a glance
which intimated plainly how willingly he would have defied
her authority had he possessed the power to make good his
point.
i
The Lady of Avenel was vexed to find how much this trifling
circumstance had discomposed her at the moment when she
ought naturally to have been entirely engrossed by her hus-
band's return. But we do not recover composure by the mere
feeling that agitation is mistimed. The glow of displeasure
had not left the lady's cheek, her ruffled deportment was not
yet entirely composed, when her husband, unhelmeted, but
still wearing the rest of his arms, entered the apartment.
His appearance banished the thoughts of everything else; she
rushed to him, clasped his iron-sheathed frame in her arms,
and kissed his martial and manly face with an affection which
was at once evident and sincere. The warrior returned her
embrace and her caress with the same fondness; for the time
which had passed since their union had diminished its roman-
tic ardour, perhaps, but it had rather increased its rational
tenderness, and Sir Halbert Glendinning's long and frequent
absences from his castle had prevented affection from degen-
erating by habit into indifference.
When the first eager greetings were paid and received, the
lady gazed fondly on her husband's face as she remarked:
“You are altered, Halbert: you have ridden hard and far to-
day, or you have been ill?”
"I have been well, Mary," answered the knight "passing
well have I been; and a long ride is to me, thou well know-
40
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
est, but a thing of constant custom. Those who are born
noble may slumber out their lives within the walls of their
castles and manor-houses; but he who hath achieved nobility
by his own deeds must ever be in the saddle, to show that he
merits his advancement.”
While he spoke thus, the lady gazed fondly on him, as if
endeavouring to read his inmost soul; for the tone in which he
spoke was that of melancholy depression.
Sir Halbert Glendinning was the same, yet a different per-
son from what he had appeared in his early years. The fiery
freedom of the aspiring youth had given place to the steady
and stern composure of the approved soldier and skilful politi-
cian. There were deep traces of care on those noble features,
over which each emotion used formerly to pass like light clouds
across a summer sky. That sky was now, not perhaps clouded,
but still and grave, like that of the sober autumn evening. The
forehead was higher and more bare than in early youth, and
the locks which still clustered thick and dark on the warrior's
head were worn away at the temples, not by age, but by the
constant pressure of the steel cap, or helmet. His beard, ac-
cording to the fashion of the times, grew short and thick, and
was turned into mustachios on the upper lip, and peaked at
the extremity. The cheek, weather-beaten and embrowned,
had lost the glow of youth, but showed the vigorous complex-
ion of active and confirmed manhood. Halbert Glendinning
was, in a word, a knight to ride at a king's right hand, to
bear his banner in war, and to be his counsellor in time of
peace; for his looks expressed the considerate firmness which
can resolve wisely and dare boldly. Still, over these noble
features there now spread an air of dejection, of which, per-
haps, the owner was not conscious, but which did not escape
the observation of his anxious and affectionate partner.
"Something has happened, or is about to happen," said the
Lady of Avenel; "this sadness sits not on your brow without
cause—misfortune, national or particular, must needs be at
hand."
"There is nothing new that I wot of," said Halbert Glen-
dinning; "but there is little of evil which can befall a king-
}
THE ABBOT.
41
dom that may not be apprehended in this unhappy and divided
realm."
"Nay, then," said the lady, "I see there hath really been
some fatal work on foot. My Lord of Murray has not so long
detained you at Holyrood, save that he wanted your help in
some weighty purpose."
"I have not been at Holyrood, Mary," answered the knight;
"I have been several weeks abroad."
"Abroad! and sent me no word!" replied the lady.
"What would the knowledge have availed, but to have ren-
dered you unhappy, my love?" replied the knight; "your
thoughts would have converted the slightest breeze that curled
your own lake into a tempest raging in the German Ocean."
"And have you then really crossed the sea?" said the lady,
to whom the very idea of an element which she had never seen
conveyed notions of terror and of wonder-"really left your
own native land, and trodden distant shores, where the Scot-
tish tongue is unheard and unknown?"
(6
Really, and really," said the knight, taking her hand in
affectionate playfulness, "I have done this marvellous deed-
have rolled on the ocean for three days and three nights, with
the deep green waves dashing by the side of my pillow, and
but a thin plank to divide me from it.”
“Indeed, my Halbert,” said the lady, "that was a tempting
of Divine Providence. I never bade you unbuckle the sword
from your side, or lay the lance from your hand; I never bade
you sit still when your honour called you to rise and ride; but
are not blade and spear dangers enough for one man's life, and
why would you trust rough waves and raging seas?"
"We have in Germany and in the Low Countries, as they
are called," answered Glendinning, "men who are united with
us in faith, and with whom it is fitting we should unite in
alliance. To some of these I was despatched on business as
important as it was secret. I went in safety, and I returned
in security: there is more danger to a man's life betwixt this
and Holyrood than in all the seas that wash the lowlands of
Holland."
And the country, my Halbert, and the people,” said the
((
42
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
lady, "are they like our kindly Scots? or what bearing have
they to strangers?"
"They are a people, Mary, strong in their wealth, which
renders all other nations weak, and weak in those arts of war
by which other nations are strong."
"I do not understand you," said the lady.
"The Hollander and the Fleming, Mary, pour forth their
spirit in trade, and not in war; their wealth purchases them
the arms of foreign soldiers, by whose aid they defend it.
They erect dikes on the sea-shore to protect the land which
they have won, and they levy regiments of the stubborn Switz-
ers and hardy Germans to protect the treasures which they have
amassed. And thus they are strong in their weakness; for the
very wealth which tempts their masters to despoil them arms
strangers in their behalf."
"The slothful hinds!" exclaimed Mary, thinking and feel-
ing like a Scotswoman of the period; "have they hands, and
fight not for the land which bore them? They should be
notched off at the elbow!"
ours.
"Nay, that were but hard justice," answered her husband;
"for their hands serve their country, though not in battle, like
Look at these barren hills, Mary, and at that deep wind-
ing vale by which the cattle are even now returning from their
scanty browse. The hand of the industrious Fleming would
cover these mountains with wood, and raise corn where we
now see a starved and scanty sward of heath and ling. It
grieves me, Mary, when I look on that land, and think what
benefit it might receive from such men as I have lately seen—
men who seek not the idle fame derived from dead ancestors,
or the bloody renown won in modern broils, but tread along
the land as preservers and improvers, not as tyrants and
destroyers.'
"These amendments would here be but a vain fancy, my
Halbert,” answered the Lady of Aver el: "the trees would be
burnt by the English foemen ere they ceased to be shrubs, and
the grain that you raised would be gathered in by the first
neighbour that possessed more riders than follow your train.
Why should you repine at this? The fate that made you
ور
THE ABBOT.
43
Scotsman by birth gave you head, and heart, and hand to up-
hold the name as it must needs be upheld."
“It gave me no name to uphold," said Halbert, pacing the
floor slowly; "my arm has been foremost in every strife, my
voice has been heard in every council, nor have the wisest re-
buked me.
The crafty Lethington, the deep and dark Morton,
have held secret council with me, and Grange and Lindesay
have owned that in the field I did the devoir of a gallant.
knight; but let the emergence be passed when they need my
head and hand, and they only know me as son of the obscure
portioner of Glendearg.
""
This was a theme which the lady always dreaded; for the
rank conferred on her husband, the favour in which he was
held by the powerful Earl of Murray, and the high talents by
which he vindicated his right to that rank and that favour,
were qualities which rather increased than diminished the
envy which was harboured against Sir Halbert Glendinning
among a proud aristocracy, as a person originally of inferior
and obscure birth, who had risen to his present eminence sole-
ly by his personal merit. The natural firmness of his mind
did not enable him to despise the ideal advantages of a higher
pedigree, which were held in such universal esteem by all with
whom he conversed; and so open are the noblest minds to jeal-
ous inconsistencies, that there were moments in which he felt
mortified that his lady should possess those advantages of birth
and high descent which he himself did not enjoy, and regretted
that his importance as the proprietor of Avenel was qualified by
his possessing it only as the husband of the heiress. He was
not so unjust as to permit any unworthy feelings to retain per-
manent possession of his mind, but yet they recurred from time
to time, and did not escape his lady's anxious observation.
"Had we been blessed with children," she was wont on such
occasions to say to herself "had our blood been united in a
son who might have joined my advantages of descent with my
husband's personal worth, these painful and irksome reflections
had not disturbed our union even for a moment. But the ex-
istence of such an heir, in whom our affections, as well as our
pretensions, might have centred, has been denied to us.”
M
44
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
With such mutual feelings, it cannot be wondered that it
gave the lady pain to hear her husband verging towards this
topic of mutual discontent. On the present, as on other simi-
lar occasions, she endeavoured to divert the knight's thoughts
from this painful channel.
How can you," she said, "suffer yourself to dwell upon
things which profit nothing? Have you indeed no name to
uphold? You the good and the brave, the wise in council and
the strong in battle, have you not to support the reputation
your own deeds have won a reputation more honourable than
mere ancestry can supply? Good men love and honour you,
the wicked fear and the turbulent obey you; and is it not nec-
essary you should exert yourself to ensure the endurance of
that love, that honour, that wholesome fear, and that neces-
sary obedience?”
M
As she thus spoke, the eye of her husband caught from hers
courage and comfort, and it lightened as he took her hand and
replied: "It is most true, my Mary, and I deserve thy rebuke,
who forget what I am, in repining because I am not what I
cannot be. I am now what the most famed ancestors of those
I envy were, the mean man raised into eminence by his own
exertions; and sure it is a boast as honourable to have those
capacities which are necessary to the foundation of a family
as to be descended from one who possessed them some centu-
ries before. The Hay of Luncarty who bequeathed his bloody
yoke to his lineage, the 'dark grey man' who first founded the
house of Douglas, had yet less of ancestry to boast than I have.
For thou knowest, Mary, that my name derives itself from a
line of ancient warriors, although my immediate forefathers
preferred the humble station in which thou didst first find
them; and war and counsel are not less proper to the house of
Glendonwyne,' even in its most remote descendants, than to
the proudest of their baronage."
He strode across the hall as he spoke; and the lady smiled
internally to observe how much his mind dwelt upon the pre-
rogatives of birth, and endeavoured to establish his claims,
however remote, to a share in them, at the very moment when
1 See Note 1.
THE ABBOT.
45
he affected to hold them in contempt. It will easily be guessed,
however, that she permitted no symptom to escape her that
could show she was sensible of the weakness of her husband-
a perspicacity which perhaps his proud spirit could not very
easily have brooked.
As he returned from the extremity of the hall, to which he
had stalked while in the act of vindicating the title of the
house of Glendonwyne in its most remote branches to the full
privileges of aristocracy-"Where," he said, "is Wolf? I
have not seen him since my return, and he was usually the
first to welcome my home-coming."
"Wolf," said the lady, with a slight degree of embarrass-
ment, for which, perhaps, she would have found it difficult to
assign any reason even to herself—“Wolf is chained up for
the present. He hath been surly to my page.
""
66
"Wolf chained up-and Wolf surly to your page!" answered
Sir Halbert Glendinning. Wolf never was surly to any one;
and the chain will either break his spirit or render him savage.
So ho, there-set Wolf free directly."
He was obeyed; and the huge dog rushed into the hall, dis-
turbing by his unwieldy and boisterous gambols the whole
economy of reels, rocks, and distaffs with which the maidens
of the household were employed when the arrival of their lord
was a signal to them to withdraw, and extracting from Lilias,
who was summoned to put them again in order, the natural
observation: "That the laird's pet was as troublesome as the
lady's page."
"And who is this page, Mary?" said the knight, his atten-
ion again called to the subject by the observation of the wait-
ing-woman—“ who is this page, whom every one seems to weigh
in the balance with my old friend and favourite, Wolf? When
did you aspire to the dignity of keeping a page, or who is
the boy?"
-
"I trust, my Halbert," said the lady, not without a blush,
"you will not think your wife entitled to less attendance than
other ladies of her quality?"
"Nay, Dame Mary," answered the knight, "it is enough
you desire such an attendant. Yet I have never loved to
46
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
nurse such useless menials. A lady's page-it may well suit
the proud English dames to have a slender youth to boar their
trains from bower to hall, fan them when they slumber, and
touch the lute for them when they please to listen; but our
Scottish matrons were wont to be above such vanities, and
our Scottish youth ought to be bred to the spear and the
stirrup."
"Nay, but, my husband," said the lady, "I did but jest
when I called this boy my page; he is in sooth a little orphan
whom we saved from perishing in the lake, and whom I have
since kept in the castle out of charity. Lilias, bring little
Roland hither."
Roland entered accordingly, and, flying to the lady's side,
took hold of the plaits of her gown, and then turned round
and gazed with an attention, not unmingled with fear, upon
the stately form of the knight. "Roland," said the lady, "go
kiss the hand of the noble knight, and ask him to be thy pro-
tector." But Roland obeyed not, and, keeping his station,
continued to gaze fixedly and timidly on Sir Halbert Glendin-
ning. "Go to the knight, boy," said the lady; "what dost
thou fear, child? Go kiss Sir Halbert's hand.'
99
"I will kiss no hand save yours, lady," answered the boy.
"Nay, but do as you are commanded, child,” replied the
lady. "He is dashed by your presence," she said, apologising
to her husband; "but is he not a handsome boy?”
"And so is Wolf," said Sir Halbert, as he patted his huge
four-footed favourite, "a handsome dog; but he has this double
advantage over your new favourite, that he does what he is.
commanded, and hears not when he is praised."
"Nay, now you are displeased with me," replied the lady;
"and yet why should you be so? There is nothing wrong in
relieving the distressed orphan, or in loving that which is in
itself lovely and deserving of affection. But you have seen
Mr. Warden at Edinburgh, and he has set you against the
poor boy."
"My dear Mary," answered her husband, "Mr. Warden
better knows his place than to presume to interfere either in
your affairs or in mine. I neither blame your relieving this

2
HAMFE
4 Ley
"Roland, go kiss the hand of the noble Knight.'"
Abbot, Chap. iii., p. 46.
THE ABBOT.
47
boy nor your kindness for him. But I think, considering his
birth and prospects, you ought not to treat him with injudi-
cious fondness, which can only end in rendering him unfit for
the humble situation to which Heaven has designed him."
"Nay, but, my Halbert, do but look at the boy," said the
lady, "and see whether he has not the air of being intended
by Heaven for something nobler than a mere peasant. May
he not be designed, as others have been, to rise out of a hum-
ble situation into honour and eminence?"
Thus far had she proceeded, when the consciousness that
she was treading upon delicate ground at once occurred to her,
and induced her to take the most natural but the worst of all
courses on such occasions, whether in conversation or in an
actual bog, namely, that of stopping suddenly short in the
illustration which she had commenced. Her brow crimsoned,
and that of Sir Halbert Glendinning was slightly overcast.
But it was only for an instant; for he was incapable of mis-
taking his lady's meaning, or supposing that she meant in-
tentional disrespect to him.
"Be it as you please, my love," he replied; "I owe you too
much to contradict you in aught which may render your soli-
tary mode of life more endurable. Make of this youth what
you will, and you have my full authority for doing so; but
remember he is your charge, not mine. Remember he hath
limbs to do man's service, a soul and a tongue to worship
God; breed him, therefore, to be true to his country and to
Heaven; and for the rest, dispose of him as you list. It is,
and shall rest, your own matter."
This conversation decided the fate of Roland Græme, who
from thenceforward was little noticed by the master of the
mansion of Avenel, but indulged and favoured by its mistress.
This situation led to many important consequences, and, in
truth, tended to bring forth the character of the youth in all
its broad lights and deep shadows. As the knight himself
seemed tacitly to disclaim alike interest and control over the
immediate favourite of his lady, young Roland was, by cir-
cumstances, exempted from the strict discipline to which, as
the retainer of a Scottish man of rank, he would otherwise
48
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
have been subjected, according to all the rigour of the age.
But the steward, or master of the household-such was the
proud title assumed by the head domestic of each petty baron
deemed it not advisable to interfere with the favourite of
the lady, and especially since she had brought the estate into
the present family. Master Jasper Wingate was a man ex-
perienced, as he often boasted, in the ways of great families,
and knew how to keep the steerage even, when wind and tide
chanced to be in contradiction.
This prudent personage winked at much, and avoided giv-
ing opportunity for further offence, by requesting little of Ro-
land Græme beyond the degree of attention which he was him-
self disposed to pay; rightly conjecturing that, however lowly
the place which the youth might hold in the favour of the
Knight of Avenel, still to make an evil report of him would
make an enemy of the lady, without securing the favour
of her husband. With these prudential considerations, and
doubtless not without an eye to his own ease and convenience,
he taught the boy as much, and only as much, as he chose to
learn, readily admitting whatever apology it pleased his pupil
to allege in excuse for idleness or negligence. As the other
persons in the castle to whom such tasks were delegated read-
ily imitated the prudential conduct of the major-domo, there
was little control used towards Roland Græme, who, of course,
learned no more than what a very active mind, and a total im-
patience of absolute idleness, led him to acquire upon his own
account, and by dint of his own exertions. The latter were
especially earnest when the lady herself condescended to be
his tutoress or to examine his progress.
It followed also, from his quality as my lady's favourite,
that Roland was viewed with no peculiar good-will by the fol-
lowers of the knight, many of whom, of the same age, and
apparently similar origin, with the fortunate page, were sub-
jected to severe observance of the ancient and rigorous disci-
pline of a feudal retainer. To these, Roland Græme was, of
course, an object of envy, and, in consequence, of dislike and
detraction; but the youth possessed qualities which it was im-
possible to depreciate. Pride and a sense of early ambition
1
THE ABBOT.
49
did for him what severity and constant instruction did for
others. In truth, the youthful Roland displayed that early
flexibility both of body and mind which renders exercise,
either mental or bodily, rather matter of sport than of study;
and it seemed as if he acquired accidentally, and by starts, those
accomplishments which earnest and constant instruction, en-
forced by frequent reproof and occasional chastisement, had
taught to others. Such military exercises, such lessons of the
period, as he found it agreeable or convenient to apply to, he
learned so perfectly as to confound those who were ignorant
how often the want of constant application is compensated by
vivacity of talent and ardent enthusiasm. The lads, there-
fore, who were more regularly trained to arms, to horseman-
ship, and to other necessary exercises of the period, while
they envied Roland Græme the indulgence or negligence with
which he seemed to be treated, had little reason to boast of
their own superior acquirements: a few hours, with the power-
ful exertion of a most energetic will, seemed to do for him
more than the regular instruction of weeks could accomplish
for others.
Under these advantages, if, indeed, they were to be termed
such, the character of young Roland began to develop itself.
It was bold, peremptory, decisive, and overbearing; generous
if neither withstood nor contradicted; vehement and passion-
ate if censured or opposed. He seemed to consider himself
as attached to no one, and responsible to no one, except his
mistress; and even over her mind he had gradually acquired
that species of ascendency which indulgence is so apt to occa-
sion. And although the immediate followers and dependants
of Sir Halbert Glendinning saw his ascendency with jealousy,
and often took occasion to mortify his vanity, there wanted
not those who were willing to acquire the favour of the Lady
of Avenel by humouring and taking part with the youth whom
she protected; for although a favourite, as the poet assures
us, has no friend, he seldom fails to have both followers and
flatterers.
The partizans of Roland Græme were chiefly to be found
amongst the inhabitants of the little hamlet on the shore of
4
50
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
2
the lake. These villagers, who were sometimes tempted to
compare their own situation with that of the immediate and
constant followers of the knight, who attended him on his fre-
quent journeys to Edinburgh and elsewhere, delighted in con-
sidering and representing themselves as more properly the
subjects of the Lady of Avenel than of her husband. It is
true, her wisdom and affection on all occasions discounte-
nanced the distinction which was here implied; but the vil-
lagers persisted in thinking it must be agreeable to her to en-
joy their peculiar and undivided homage, or at least in acting
as if they thought so; and one chief mode by which they
evinced their sentiments was by the respect they paid to young
Roland Græme, the favourite atttendant of the descendant of
their ancient lords. This was a mode of flattery too pleasing
to encounter rebuke or censure; and the opportunity which it
afforded the youth to form, as it were, a party of his own
within the limits of the ancient barony of Avenel, added not
a little to the audacity and decisive tone of a character which
was by nature bold, impetuous, and incontrollable.
Of the two members of the household who had manifested
an early jealousy of Roland Græme, the prejudices of Wolf
were easily overcome; and in process of time the noble dog
slept with Bran, Luath, and the celebrated hounds of ancient
days. But Mr. Warden, the chaplain, lived, and retained his
dislike to the youth. That good man, single-minded and
benevolent as he really was, entertained rather more than a
reasonable idea of the respect due to him as a minister, and
exacted from the inhabitants of the castle more deference than
the haughty young page, proud of his mistress's favour, and
petulant from youth and situation, was at all times willing to
pay. His bold and free demeanour, his attachment to rich
dress and decoration, his inaptitude to receive instruction,
and his hardening himself against rebuke, were circumstances
which induced the good old man, with more haste than charity,
to set the forward page down as a vessel of wrath, and to pre-
sage that the youth nursed that pride and haughtiness of
spirit which goes before ruin and destruction. On the other
hand, Roland evinced at times a marked dislike, and even
1
THE ABBOT.
51
something like contempt, of the chaplain. Most of the at-
tendants and followers of Sir Halbert Glendinning entertained
the same charitable thoughts as the reverend Mr. Warden; but
while Roland was favoured by their lady, and endured by their
lord, they saw no policy in making their opinions public.
Roland Græme was sufficiently sensible of the unpleasant
situation in which he stood; but in the haughtiness of his
heart he retorted upon the other domestics the distant, cold,
and sarcastic manner in which they treated him, assumed an
air of superiority which compelled the most obstinate to obe-
dience, and had the satisfaction at least to be dreaded, if he
was heartily hated.
The chaplain's marked dislike had the effect of recommend-
ing him to the attention of Sir Halbert's brother, Edward, who
now, under the conventual appellation of Father Ambrose, con-
tinued to be one of the few monks who, with the Abbot Eu-
statius, had, notwithstanding the nearly total downfall of their
faith under the regency of Murray, been still permitted to linger
in the cloisters at Kennaquhair. Respect to Sir Halbert had
prevented their being altogether driven out of the abbey,
though their order was now in a great measure suppressed,
and they were interdicted the public exercise of their ritual,
and only allowed for their support a small pension out of their
once splendid revenues. Father Ambrose, thus situated, was
an occasional, though very rare, visitant at the Castle of
Avenel, and was at such times observed to pay particular
attention to Roland Græme, who seemed to return it with
more depth of feeling than consisted with his usual habits.
Thus situated, years glided on, during which the Knight of
Avenel continued to act a frequent and important part in the
convulsions of his distracted country; while young Græme an-
ticipated, both in wishes and personal accomplishments, the
age which should enable him to emerge from the obscurity of
his present situation.
:
52
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
CHAPTER IV.
Amid their cups that freely flow'd,
Their revelry and mirth,
A youthful lord tax'd Valentine
With base and doubtful birth.
Valentine and Orson.
WHEN Roland Græme was a youth about seventeen years
of age, he chanced one summer morning to descend to the
mew in which Sir Halbert Glendinning kept his hawks, in
order to superintend the training of an eyas, or young hawk,
which he himself, at the imminent risk of neck and limbs, had
taken from a celebrated eyrie in the neighbourhood, called
Gledscraig. As he was by no means satisfied with the atten-
tion which had been bestowed on his favourite bird, he was not
slack in testifying his displeasure to the falconer's lad, whose
duty it was to have attended upon it.
"What, ho! sir knave," exclaimed Roland, "is it thus you
feed the eyas with unwashed meat, as if you were gorging the
foul brancher of a worthless hoodie-crow? By the mass, and
thou hast neglected its castings also for these two days!
Think'st thou I ventured my neck to bring the bird down
from the crag that thou shouldst spoil her by thy neglect?"
And to add force to his remonstrances, he conferred a cuff or
two on the negligent attendant of the hawks, who, shouting
rather louder than was necessary under all the circumstances,
brought the master falconer to his assistance.
Adam Woodcock, the falconer of Avenel, was an English-
man by birth, but so long in the service of Glendinning that
he had lost much of his national attachment in that which he
had formed to his master. He was a favourite in his depart-
ment, jealous and conceited of his skill, as masters of the game
usually are; for the rest of his character, he was a jester and
a parcel poet (qualities which by no means abated his natural
conceit), a jolly fellow, who, though a sound Protestant, loved
a flagon of ale better than a long sermon, a stout man of his
THE ABBOT.
53
hands when need required, true to his master, and a little pre-
suming on his interest with him.
Adam Woodcock, such as we have described him, by no
means relished the freedom used by young Græme in chastis-
ing his assistant. "Hey, hey, my lady's page," said he,
stepping between his own boy and Roland, "fair and softly,
an it like your gilt jacket-hands off is fair play-if my boy
has done amiss, I can beat him myself, and then you may
keep your hands soft."
66
"I will beat him and thee, too," answered Roland, without
hesitation, an ye look not better after your business. See
how the bird is cast away between you. I found the care-
less lurdane feeding her with unwashed flesh, and she an
eyas.
39 1
"Go to," said the falconer, "thou art but an eyas thyself,
child Roland. What knowest thou of feeding? I say that
the eyas should have her meat unwashed until she becomes a
brancher: 'twere the ready way to give her the frounce, to
wash her meat sooner, and so knows every one who knows a
gled from a falcon."
'It is thine own laziness, thou false English blood, that
dost nothing but drink and sleep," retorted the page, "and
leaves that lither lad to do the work, which he minds as little
as thou."
“And am I so idle then," said the falconer, "that have three
cast of hawks to look after, at perch and mew, and to fly them
in the field to boot?—and is my lady's page so busy a man that
he must take me up short?—and am I of false English blood?
I marvel what blood thou art-neither Englander nor Scot-
fish nor flesh-a bastard from the Debateable Land, without
either kith, kin, or ally! Marry, out upon thee, foul kite,
that would fain be a tercel gentle!”
The reply to this sarcasm was a box on the ear, so well ap-
plied that it overthrew the falconer into the cistern in which
water was kept for the benefit of the hawks. Up started
Adam Woodcock, his wrath nowise appeased by the cold im-
There is a difference amongst authorities how long the nestling hawk
should be fed with flesh which has previously been washed.
54
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
mersion, and seizing on a truncheon which stood by, would
have soon requited the injury he had received, had not Roland
laid his hand on his poniard, and sworn by all that was sacred
that, if he offered a stroke towards him, he would sheath the
blade in his bowels. The noise was now so great that more
than one of the household came in, and amongst others the
major-domo, a grave personage, already mentioned, whose gold
chain and white wand intimated his authority. At the ap-
pearance of this dignitary, the strife was for the present ap-
peased. He embraced, however, so favourable an opportunity
to read Roland Græme a shrewd lecture on the impropriety of
his deportment to his fellow-menials, and to assure him that,
should he communicate this fray to his master (who, though
now on one of his frequent expeditions, was speedily expected
to return), which but for respect to his lady he would most
certainly do, the residence of the culprit in the Castle of
Avenel would be but of brief duration. "But, however,"
added the prudent master of the household, "I will report the
matter first to my lady."
"Very just very right, Master Wingate," exclaimed several
voices together; "my lady will consider if daggers are to be
drawn on us for every idle word, and whether we are to live
in a well-ordered household, where there is the fear of God,
or amongst drawn dirks and sharp knives.'
""
The object of this general resentment darted an angry glance
around him, and suppressing with difficulty the desire which
urged him to reply in furious or in contemptuous language,
returned his dagger into the scabbard, looked disdainfully
around upon the assembled menials, turned short upon his
heel, and pushing aside those who stood betwixt him and the
door, left the apartment.
Sp
"This will be no tree for my nest," said the falconer, "if
this cock-sparrow is to crow over us as he seems to do.”
"He struck me with his switch yesterday," said one of the
grooms, "because the tail of his worship's gelding was not
trimmed altogether so as suited his humour."
"And I promise you," said the laundress, "my young mas-
ter will stick nothing to call an honest woman 'slut' and
THE ABBOT.
55
'quean' if there be but a speck of soot upon his band-
collar."
"If Master Wingate do not his errand to my lady," was the
general result, "there will be no tarrying in the same house
with Roland Græme."
The master of the household heard them all for some time,
and then, motioning for universal silence, he addressed them
with all the dignity of Malvolio himself."My masters-not
forgetting you, my mistresses-do not think the worse of me
that I proceed with as much care as haste in this matter.
Our master is a gallant knight, and will have his sway at
home and abroad, in wood and field, in hall and bower, as the
saying is. Our lady, my benison upon her! is also a noble
person of long descent, and rightful heir of this place and
barony, and she also loves her will; as for that matter, show
me the woman who doth not. Now, she hath favoured, doth
favour, and will favour this jackanapes, for what good part
about him I know not, save that as one noble lady will love a
messan dog, and another a screaming popinjay, and a third a
Barbary ape, so doth it please our noble dame to set her affec-
tions upon this stray elf of a page, for nought that I can think
of, save that she was the cause of his being saved-the more's
the pity-from drowning." And here Master Wingate made
a pause.
66
I would have been his caution for a grey groat, against
salt water or fresh," said Roland's adversary, the falconer;
"marry, if he crack not a rope for stabbing or for snatching, I
will be content never to hood hawk again.”
"Peace, Adam Woodcock," said Wingate, waving his hand-
"I prithee, peace, man. Now, my lady, liking this springald,
as aforesaid, differs therein from my lord, who loves never a
bone in his skin. Now, is it for me to stir up strife betwixt
them, and put as 'twere my finger betwixt the bark and the
tree, on account of a pragmatical youngster, whom, neverthe-
less, I would willingly see whipped forth of the barony?
Have patience, and this boil will break without our meddling.
I have been in service since I wore a beard on my chin, till
now that that beard is turned grey, and I have seldom known
56
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
""
any one better themselves even by taking the lady's part against
the lord's; but never one who did not dirk himself if he took
the lord's against the lady's.'
"And so,
" said Lilias, 66 we are to be crowed over, every
one of us, men and women, cock and hen, by this little up-
start? I will try titles with him first, I promise you. I
fancy, Master Wingate, for as wise as you look, you will be
pleased to tell what you have seen to-day, if my lady com-
mands you?"
"To speak the truth when my lady commands me," answered
the prudential major-domo, "is in some measure my duty, Mis-
tress Lilias; always providing for and excepting those cases in
which it cannot be spoken without breeding mischief and in-
convenience to myself or my fellow-servants; for the tongue
of a tale-bearer breaketh bones as well as a Jeddart staff.”
"But this imp of Satan is none of your friends or fellow-ser-
vants," said Lilias; "and I trust you mean not to stand up for
him against the whole family besides?"
"Credit me, Mrs. Lilias," replied the senior, "should I see
the time fitting, I would with right good-will give him a lick
with the rough side of my tongue."
"Enough said, Master Wingate," answered Lilias; "then
trust me, his song shall soon be laid. If my mistress does not
ask me what is the matter below stairs before she be ten min-
utes of time older, she is no born woman, and my name is not
Lilias Bradbourne."
In pursuance of her plan, Mistress Lilias failed not to pre-
sent herself before her mistress with all the exterior of one
who is possessed of an important secret—that is, she had the
corners of her mouth turned down, her eyes raised up, her lips
pressed as fast together as if they had been sewed up, to pre-
vent her blabbing, and an air of prim mystical importance dif-
fused over her whole person and demeanour, which seemed to
intimate: "I know something which I am resolved not to tell
you!"
O
Lilias had rightly read her mistress's temper, who, wise and
good as she was, was yet a daughter of grandame Eve, and
could not witness this mysterious bearing on the part of her
THE ABBOT.
37
waiting-woman without longing to ascertain the secret cause.
For a space, Mrs. Lilias was obdurate to all inquiries, sighed,
turned her eyes up higher yet to Heaven, hoped for the best,
but had nothing particular to communicate. All this, as was
most natural and proper, only stimulated the lady's curiosity;
neither was her importunity to be parried with: "Thank God,
I am no makebate-no tale-bearer-thank God, I never envied
any one's favour, or was anxious to propale their misdemean-
our-only, thank God, there has been no bloodshed and mur-
der in the house-that is all."
-
"Bloodshed and murder!" exclaimed the lady, "what does
the quean mean? If you speak not plain out, you shall have
something you will scarce be thankful for."
"Nay, my lady," answered Lilias, eager to disburden her
mind, or, in Chaucer's phrase, to "unbuckle her mail,” “if
you bid me speak out the truth you must not be moved with
what might displease you: Roland Græme has dirked Adam
Woodcock-that is all."
"Good Heaven!" said the lady, turning pale as ashes, "is
the man slain?"
"No, madam," replied Lilias, "but slain he would have
been if there had not been ready help; but maybe it is your
ladyship's pleasure that this young esquire shall poniard the
servants, as well as switch and baton them?”
"Go to, minion," said the lady, "you are saucy; tell the
master of the household to attend me instantly."
Lilias hastened to seek out Mr. Wingate, and hurry him to
his lady's presence, speaking as a word in season to him on
the way: "I have set the stone a-trowling, look that you do
not let it stand still."
The steward, too prudential a person to commit himself
otherwise, answered by a sly look and a nod of intelligence,
and presently after stood in the presence of the Lady of Ave-
nel, with a look of great respect for his lady, partly real, partly
affected, and an air of great sagacity, which inferred no ordi-
nary conceit of himself.
"How is this, Wingate," said the lady, "and what rule do
you keep in the castle, that the domestics of Sir Halbert Glen-
58
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:
dinning draw the dagger on each other as in a cavern of
thieves and murderers? Is the wounded man much hurt?
and what-what hath become of the unhappy boy?"
"There is no one wounded as yet, madam," replied he of
the golden chain; "it passes my poor skill to say how many
may be wounded before Pasche, if some rule be not taken with
this youth; not but the youth is a fair youth," he added, cor-
recting himself, "and able at his exercise; but somewhat too
ready with the ends of his fingers, the butt of his riding-
switch, and the point of his dagger."
"And whose fault is that," said the lady, "but yours, who
should have taught him better discipline than to brawl or to
draw his dagger?"
""
"If it please your ladyship so to impose the blame on me,
answered the steward, "it is my part, doubtless, to bear it;
only I submit to your consideration that, unless I nailed his
weapon to the scabbard, I could no more keep it still than I
could fix quicksilver, which defied even the skill of Raymond
Lullius."
“Tell me not of Raymond Lullius," said the lady, losing
patience, "but send me the chaplain hither. You grow all of
you too wise for me during your lord's long and repeated
absences. I would to God his affairs would permit him to
remain at home and rule his own household, for it passes my
wit and skill!”
"God forbid, my lady!" said the old domestic, "that you
should sincerely think what you are now pleased to say: your
old servants might well hope that, after so many years' duty,
you would do their service more justice than to distrust their
grey hairs, because they cannot rule the peevish humour of a
green head, which the owner carries, it may be, a brace of
inches higher than becomes him."
“Leave me,” said the lady; "Sir Halbert's return must now
be expected daily, and he will look into these matters himself—
leave me, I say, Wingate, without saying more of it. I know
you are honest, and I believe the boy is petulant; and yet I
think it is my favour which hath set all of you against him.
The steward bowed and retired, after having been silenced
22
THE ABBOT.
59
in a second attempt to explain the motives on which he
acted.
The chaplain arrived; but neither from him did the lady
receive much comfort. On the contrary, she found him dis-
posed, in plain terms, to lay to the door of her indulgence all
the disturbances which the fiery temper of Roland Græme had
already occasioned, or might hereafter occasion, in the family.
"I would," he said, "honoured lady, that you had deigned to
be ruled by me in the outset of this matter, since it is easy to
stem evil in the fountain, but hard to struggle against it in
the stream. You, honoured madam-a word which I do not
use according to the vain forms of this world, but because I
have ever loved and honoured you as an honourable and an elect
lady—you, I say, madam, have been pleased, contrary to my
poor but earnest counsel, to raise this boy from his station into
one approaching to your own."
"What mean you, reverend sir?" said the lady. "I have
made this youth a page; is there aught in my doing so that
does not become my character and quality?"
"I dispute not, madam," said the pertinacious preacher,
"your benevolent purpose in taking charge of this youth, or
your title to give him this idle character of page, if such was
your pleasure; though what the education of a boy in the
train of a female can tend to, save to ingraft foppery and
effeminacy on conceit and arrogance, it passes my knowledge
to discover. But I blame you more directly for having taken
little care to guard him against the perils of his condition, or
to tame and humble a spirit naturally haughty, overbearing,
and impatient. You have brought into your bower a lion's
cub; delighted with the beauty of his fur, and the grace of
his gambols, you have bound him with no fetters befitting the
fierceness of his disposition. You have let him grow up as
unawed as if he had been still a tenant of the forest, and now
you are surprised, and call out for assistance, when he begins
to ramp, rend, and tear, according to his proper nature."
"Mr. Warden," said the lady, considerably offended, "you
are my husband's ancient friend, and I believe your love sin-
cere to him and to his household. Yet let me say, that when
60
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
I asked you for counsel, I expected not this asperity of rebuke.
If I have done wrong in loving this poor orphan lad more than
others of his class, I scarce think the error merited such severe
censure; and if stricter discipline were required to keep his
fiery temper in order, it ought, I think, to be considered that
I am a woman, and that, if I have erred in this matter, it be-
comes a friend's part rather to aid than to rebuke mẹ. I
would these evils were taken order with before my lord's re-
turn. He loves not domestic discord or domestic brawls; and
I would not willingly that he thought such could arise from
one whom I have favoured. What do you counsel me to do?”
'Dismiss this youth from your service, madam,” replied
the preacher.
66
"You cannot bid me do so," said the lady-"you cannot,
as a Christian and a man of humanity, bid me turn away an
unprotected creature against whom my favour-my injudi-
cious favour, if you will-has reared up so many enemies."
"It is not necessary you should altogether abandon him,
though you dismiss him to another service, or to a calling
better suiting his station and character," said the preacher;
“elsewhere he may be an useful and profitable member of the
commonweal; here he is but a makebate and a stumbling-
block of offence. The youth has snatches of sense and of in-
telligence, though he lacks industry. I will myself give him
letters commendatory to Olearius Schinderhausen, a learned
professor at the famous university of Leyden, where they lack
an under-janitor; where, besides gratis instruction, if God give
him the grace to seek it, he will enjoy five marks by the year,
and the professor's cast-off suit, which he disparts with bien-
nially."
66
"This will never do, good Mr. Warden," said the lady,
scarce able to suppress a smile; “ we will think more at large
upon this matter. In the mean while, I trust to your remon-
strances with this wild boy and with the family for restrain-
ing these violent and unseemly jealousies and bursts of passion;
and I entreat you to press on him and them their duty in this
respect towards God and towards their master.'
"2
"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Warden. "On the
P
THE ABBOT.
61
next Thursday I exhort the family, and will, with God's bless-
ing, so wrestle with the demon of wrath and violence which
hath entered into my little flock that I trust to hound the wolf
out of the fold, as if he were chased away with ban-dogs."
This was the part of the conference from which Mr. Warden
derived the greatest pleasure. The pulpit was at that time the
same powerful engine for affecting popular feeling which the
press has since become, and he had been no unsuccessful
preacher, as we have already seen. It followed as a natural
consequence that he rather overestimated the powers of his
own oratory, and, like some of his brethren about the period,
was glad of an opportunity to handle any matters of impor-
tance, whether public or private, the discussion of which could
be dragged into his discourse. In that rude age the delicacy
was unknown which prescribed time and place to personal ex-
hortations; and as the court preacher often addressed the king
individually, and dictated to him the conduct he ought to ob-
serve in matters of state, so the nobleman himself, or any of
his retainers, were, in the chapel of the feudal castle, often
incensed or appalled, as the case might be, by the discussion
of their private faults in the evening exercise, and by spiritual
censures directed against them specifically, personally, and by
name.
22
The sermon by means of which Henry Warden proposed to
restore concord and good order to the Castle of Avenel bore
for text the well-known words, "He who striketh with the
sword shall perish by the sword," and was a singular mixture
of good sense and powerful oratory with pedantry and bad
taste. He enlarged a good deal on the word "striketh,
which he assured his hearers comprehended blows given with
the point as well as with the edge, and more generally shoot-
ing with hand-gun, cross-bow or long-bow, thrusting with a
lance, or doing anything whatever by which death might be
occasioned to the adversary. In the same manner, he proved
satisfactorily that the word "sword" comprehended all de-
scriptions, whether backsword or basket-hilt, cut-and-thrust
or rapier, falchion or scimitar. "But if," he continued, with
still greater animation, "the text includeth in its anathema
·
62
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
those who strike with any of those weapons which man hath
devised for the exercise of his open hostility, still more doth
it comprehend such as from their form and size are devised
rather for the gratification of privy malice by treachery than
for the destruction of an enemy prepared and standing upon
his defence. Such," he proceeded, looking sternly at the
place where the page was seated on a cushion at the feet of
his mistress, and wearing in his crimson belt a gay dagger
with a gilded hilt-"such, more especially, I hold to be those
implements of death which, in our modern and fantastic times,
are worn not only by thieves and cut-throats, to whom they
most properly belong, but even by those who attend upon wo-
men, and wait in the chambers of honourable ladies. Yes,
my friends, every species of this unhappy weapon, framed for
all evil and for no good, is comprehended under this deadly
denunciation: whether it be a stilet, which we have borrowed
from the treacherous Italian, or a dirk, which is borne by the
savage Highlandmen, or a whinger, which is carried by our own
Border thieves and cut-throats, or a dudgeon-dagger, all are
alike engines invented by the devil himself, for ready imple-
ments of deadly wrath, sudden to execute, and difficult to be
parried. Even the common sword-and-buckler brawler de-
spises the use of such a treacherous and malignant instrument,
which is therefore fit to be used, not by men or soldiers, but
by those who, trained under female discipline, become them-
selves effeminate hermaphrodites, having female spite and
female cowardice added to the infirmities and evil passions of
their masculine nature."
The effect which this oration produced upon the assembled
congregation of Avenel cannot very easily be described. The
lady seemed at once embarrassed and offended; the menials
could hardly contain, under an affectation of deep attention,
the joy with which they heard the chaplain launch his thun-
ders at the head of the unpopular favourite, and the weapon
which they considered a badge of affectation and finery. Mrs.
Lilias crested and drew up her head with all the deepfelt
pride of gratified resentment; while the steward, observing a
strict neutrality of aspect, fixed his eyes upon an old scutcheon
THE ABBOT.
63
on the opposite side of the wall, which he seemed to examine
with the utmost accuracy, more willing, perhaps, to incur the
censure of being inattentive to the sermon than that of seem-
ing to listen with marked approbation to what appeared so
distasteful to his mistress.
The unfortunate subject of the harangue, whom nature had
endowed with passions which had hitherto found no effectual
restraint, could not disguise the resentment which he felt at
being thus directly held up to the scorn, as well as the censure,
of the assembled inhabitants of the little world in which he
lived. His brow grew red-his lip grew pale-he set his
teeth-he clenched his hand, and then with mechanical readi-
ness grasped the weapon of which the clergyman had given so
hideous a character; and at length, as the preacher heightened
the colouring of his invective, he felt his rage become so un-
governable that, fearful of being hurried into some deed of
desperate violence, he rose up, traversed the chapel with
hasty steps, and left the congregation.
The preacher was surprised into a sudden pause, while the
fiery youth shot across him like a flash of lightning, regarding
him as he passed as if he had wished to dart from his eyes
the same power of blighting and of consuming. But no sooner
had he crossed the chapel, and shut with violence behind him
the door of the vaulted entrance by which it communicated with
the castle, than the impropriety of his conduct supplied War-
den with one of those happier subjects for eloquence, of which
he knew how to take advantage for making a suitable impres-
sion on his hearers. He paused for an instant, and then pro-
nounced, in a slow and solemn voice, the deep anathema: "He
hath gone out from us because he was not of us: the sick man
hath been offended at the wholesome bitter of the medicine—
the wounded patient hath flinched from the friendly knife of
the surgeon the sheep hath fled from the sheepfold and de-
livered himself to the wolf, because he could not assume the
quiet and humble conduct demanded of us by the great Shep-
herd. Ah! my brethren, beware of wrath-beware of pride—
beware of the deadly and destroying sin which so often shows
itself to our frail eyes in the garments of light! What is our
-
64
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
earthly honour? Pride, and pride only. What our earthly
gifts and graces? Pride and vanity. Voyagers speak of In-
dian men who deck themselves with shells, and anoint them-
selves with pigments, and boast of their attire as we do of our
miserable carnal advantages. Pride could draw down the
morning-star from Heaven even to the verge of the pit. Pride
and self-opinion kindled the flaming sword which waves us
off from Paradise. Pride made Adam mortal, and a weary
wanderer on the face of the earth which he had else been at
this day the immortal lord of. Pride brought amongst us sin,
and doubles every sin it has brought. It is the outpost which
the devil and the flesh most stubbornly maintain against the
assaults of grace; and until it be subdued, and its barriers
levelled with the very earth, there is more hope of a fool than
of the sinner. Rend, then, from your bosoms this accursed
shoot of the fatal apple: tear it up by the roots, though it be
twisted with the chords of your life. Profit by the example
of the miserable sinner that has passed from us, and embrace
the means of grace while it is called to-day-ere your con-
science is seared as with a firebrand, and your ears deafened
like those of the adder, and your heart hardened like the
nether millstone. Up, then, and be doing: wrestle and over-
come; resist, and the enemy shall flee from you. Watch and
pray, lest ye fall into temptation, and let the stumbling of
others be your warning and your example. Above all, rely
not on yourselves, for such self-confidence is even the worst
symptom of the disorder itself. The Pharisee perhaps deemed
himself humble while he stooped in the Temple, and thanked
God that he was not as other men, and even as the publican.
But while his knees touched the marble pavement, his head
was as high as the topmost pinnacle of the Temple. Do not
therefore deceive yourselves, and offer false coin, where the
purest you can present is but as dross: think not that such
will pass the assay of Omnipotent Wisdom. Yet shrink not
from the task because, as is my bounden duty, I do not dis-
guise from you its difficulties. Self-searching can do much
meditation can do much-grace can do all."
And he concluded with a touching and animating exhorta-
M
THE ABBOT.
65
tion to his hearers to seek Divine grace, which is perfected in
human weakness.
The audience did not listen to this address without being
considerably affected; though it might be doubted whether
the feelings of triumph excited by the disgraceful retreat of
the favourite page did not greatly qualify in the minds of
many the exhortations of the preacher to charity and to hu-
mility. And, in fact, the expression of their countenances
much resembled the satisfied, triumphant air of a set of chil-
dren, who, having just seen a companion punished for a fault
in which they had no share, con their task with double glee,
both because they themselves are out of the scrape and be-
cause the culprit is in it.
With very different feelings did the Lady of Avenel seek
her own apartment. She felt angry at Warden having made
a domestic matter, in which she took a personal interest, the
subject of such public discussion. But this she knew the good
man claimed as a branch of his Christian liberty as a preacher,
and also that it was vindicated by the universal custom of his
brethren. But the self-willed conduct of her protégé afforded
her yet deeper concern. That he had broken through, in so
remarkable a degree, not only the respect due to her presence,
but that which was paid to religious admonition in those days
with such peculiar reverence, argued a spirit as untameable as
his enemies had represented him to possess. And yet, so far
as he had been under her own eye, she had seen no more of
that fiery spirit than appeared to her to become his years and
his vivacity. This opinion might be founded in some degree
on partiality; in some degree, too, it might be owing to the
kindness and indulgence which she had always extended to
him; but still she thought it impossible that she could be
totally mistaken in the estimate she had formed of his char-
acter. The extreme of violence is scarce consistent with a
course of continued hypocrisy (although Lilias charitably
hinted that in some instances they were happily united), and
therefore she could not exactly trust the report of others
against her own experience and observation. The thoughts
of this orphan boy clung to her heartstrings with a fondness
orpha
66
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
for which she herself was unable to account.. He had seemed
to have been sent to her by Heaven to fill up those intervals
of languor and vacuity which deprived her of much enjoyment.
Perhaps he was not less dear to her because she well saw that
he was a favourite with no one else, and because she felt that
to give him up was to afford the judgment of her husband and
others a triumph over her own—a circumstance not quite in-
different to the best of spouses of either sex.
In short, the Lady of Avenel formed the internal resolution
that she would not desert her page while her page could be
rationally protected; and, with the view of ascertaining how
far this might be done, she caused him to be summoned to
her presence.
CHAPTER V.
In the wild storm,
The seaman hews his mast down, and the merchant
Heaves to the billows wares he once deem'd precious;
So prince and peer, 'mid popular contentions,
Cast off their favourites.
!
Old Play.
Ir was some time ere Roland Græme appeared. The mes-
senger (his old friend Lilias) had at first attempted to open
the door of his little apartment, with the charitable purpose,
doubtless, of enjoying the confusion, and marking the demea-
nour, of the culprit. But an oblong bit of iron, yclept a bolt,
was passed across the door on the inside, and prevented her
benign intentions. Lilias knocked, and called at intervals:
"Roland-Roland Græme-Master Roland Græme (an em-
phasis on the word "Master"), will you be pleased to undo
the door? What ails you?-are you at your prayers in pri-
vate, to complete the devotion which you left unfinished in
public? Surely we must have a screened seat for you in the
chapel, that your gentility may be freed from the eyes of com-
mon folks!" Still no whisper was heard in reply. "Well,
Master Roland," said the waiting-maid, "I must tell my mis-
tress that if she would have an answer, she must either come
f
THE ABBOT.
67
herself or send those on errand to you who can beat the door
down."
"What says your lady?" inquired the page from within.
Marry, open the door and you shall hear," answered the
waiting-maid. "I trow it becomes my lady's message to be
listened to face to face; and I will not, for your idle pleasure,
whistle it through a key-hole."
"Your mistress's name," said the page, opening the door,
"is too fair a cover for your impertinence. What says my
lady?"
((
"That you will be pleased to come to her directly, in the
withdrawing-room," answered Lilias. "I presume she has
some directions for you concerning the forms to be observed
in leaving chapel in future."
(6
'Say to my lady that I will directly wait on her," said the
page; and, returning into his own apartment, he once more
locked the door in the face of the waiting-maid.
"Rare courtesy!" muttered Lilias; and, returning to her
mistress, acquainted her that Roland Græme would wait on
her when it suited his convenience.
"What! is that his phrase or your own addition, Lilias?”
said the lady, coolly.
"Nay, madam," replied the attendant, not directly an-
swering the question, "he looked as if he could have said
much more impertinent things than that, if I had been
willing to hear them. But here he comes to answer for
himself."
Roland Græme entered the apartment with a loftier mien
and somewhat a higher colour than his wont; there was em-
barrassment in his manner, but it was neither that of fear nor
of penitence.
(6
Young man," said the lady, "what trow you am I to think
of your conduct this day?"
"If it has offended you, madam, I am deeply grieved," said
the youth.
"To have offended me alone," said the lady, 66 were but
little. You have been guilty of conduct which will highly
offend your master-of violence to your fellow-servants, and
68
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
of disrespect to God Himself, in the person of His ambas
sador."
'Permit me again to reply," said the page, "that, if I have
offended my only mistress, friend, and benefactress, it includes
the sum of my guilt, and deserves the sum of my penitence.
Sir Halbert Glendinning calls me not servant, nor do I call
him master: he is not entitled to blame me for chastising an
insolent groom; nor do I fear the wrath of Heaven for treat-
ing with scorn the unauthorised interference of a meddling
preacher."
.
The Lady of Avenel had before this seen symptoms in her
favourite of boyish petulance and of impatience of censure or
reproof. But his present demeanour was of a graver and
more determined character, and she was for a moment at a
loss how she should treat the youth, who seemed to have at
once assumed the character not only of a man, but of a bold
and determined one. She paused an instant, and then assum-
ing the dignity which was natural to her, she said: "Is it to
me, Roland, that you hold this language? Is it for the pur-
pose of making me repent the favour I have shown you that
you declare yourself independent both of an earthly and a
Heavenly master! Have you forgotten what you were, and
to what the loss of my protection would speedily again re-
duce you?"
"Lady," said the page, "I have forgot nothing: I remember
but too much. I know that, but for you, I should have per-
ished in yon blue waves,” pointing, as he spoke, to the lake,
which was seen through the window, agitated by the western
wind. "Your goodness has gone farther, madam: you have
protected me against the malice of others, and against my own
folly. You are free, if you are willing, to abandon the orphan
you have reared.
You have left nothing undone by him, and
he complains of nothing. And yet, lady, do not think I have
been ungrateful: I have endured something on my part, which
I would have borne for the sake of no one but my benefactress.'
For my sake!" said the lady; "and what is it that I can
have subjected you to endure, which can be remembered with
other feelings than those of thanks and gratitude?”
""
THE ABBOT.
69
"You are too just, madam, to require me to be thankful for
the cold neglect with which your husband has uniformly treated
me-neglect not unmingled with fixed aversion. You are too
just, madam, to require me to be grateful for the constant and
unceasing marks of scorn and malevolence with which I have
been treated by others, or for such a homily as that with which
your reverend chaplain has, at my expense, this very day re-
galed the assembled household."
“Heard mortal ears the like of this!" said the waiting-maid,
with her hands expanded, and her eyes turned up to Heaven;
"he speaks as if he were son of an earl, or of a belted knight
the least penny!"
The page glanced on her a look of supreme contempt, but
vouchsafed no other answer. His mistress, who began to feel
herself seriously offended, and yet sorry for the youth's folly,
took up the same tone.
"Indeed, Roland, you forget yourself so strangely, said
she, "that you will tempt me to take serious measures to
lower you in your own opinion by reducing you to your proper
station in society."
رو
"And that," added Lilias, "would be best done by turn-
ing him out the same beggar's brat that your ladyship took
him in."
P
"Lilias speaks too rudely," continued the lady, "but she has
spoken the truth, young man; nor do I think I ought to spare
that pride which hath so completely turned your head. You
have been tricked up with fine garments, and treated like the
son of a gentleman, until you have forgot the fountain of your
churlish blood."
"Craving your pardon, most honourable madam, Lilias hath
not spoken truth, nor does your ladyship know aught of my de-
scent which should entitle you to treat it with such decided
scorn. I am no beggar's brat: my grandmother begged from
no one, here nor elsewhere; she would have perished sooner
on the bare moor. We were harried out and driven from our
home-a chance which has happed elsewhere, and to others.
Avenel Castle, with its lake and its towers, was not at all
times able to protect its inhabitants from want and desolation."
70
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Hear but his assurance!" said Lilias; "he upbraids my
lady with the distresses of her family!"
66
It had indeed been a theme more gratefully spared," said
the lady, affected nevertheless with the allusion.
66
"It was necessary, madam, for my vindication," said the
page, or I had not even hinted at a word that might give
you pain. But believe, honoured lady, I am of no churl's
blood. My proper descent I know not; but my only relation
has said, and my heart has echoed it back and attested the
truth, that I am sprung of gentle blood, and deserve gentle
usage."
66
"And upon an assurance so vague as this," said the lady,
do
you propose to expect all the regard, all the privileges,
befitting high rank and distinguished birth, and become a
contender for concessions which are only due to the noble?
Go to, sir, know yourself, or the master of the household
shall make you know you are liable to the scourge as a mala-
pert boy. You have tasted too little the discipline fit for your
age and station.”
"The master of the household shall taste of my dagger ere
I taste of his discipline," said the page, giving way to his re-
strained passion. "Lady, I have been too long the vassal of
a pantoufle, and the slave of a silver whistle. You must
henceforth find some other to answer your call; and let him
be of birth and spirit mean enough to brook the scorn of your
menials and to call a church vassal his master.
رو
"I have deserved this insult," said the lady, colouring
deeply, "for so long enduring and fostering your petulance.
Begone, sir. Leave this castle to-night. I will send you the
means of subsistence till you find some honest mode of sup-
port, though I fear your imaginary grandeur will be above all
others save those of rapine and violence. Begone, sir, and
see my face no more.”
The page threw himself at her feet in an agony of sorrow.
"My dear and honoured mistress——" he said, but was unable
to bring out another syllable.
"Arise, sir," said the lady, "and let go my mantle: hypoc
risy is a poor cloak for ingratitude.”
THE ABBOT.
71
"I am incapable of either, madam," said the page, spring-
ing up with the hasty start of passion which belonged to his
rapid and impetuous temper. "Think not I meant to implore
permission to reside here; it has been long my determination
to leave Avenel, and I will never forgive myself for having
permitted you to say the word 'begone' ere I said, 'I leave
you.' I did but kneel to ask your forgiveness for an ill-con-
sidered word used in the height of displeasure, but which ill
became my mouth as addressed to you. Other grace I asked
not; you have done much for me, but I repeat, that you better
know what you yourself have done than what I have suffered.”
"Roland," said the lady, somewhat appeased, and relenting
towards her favourite, "you had me to appeal to when you
were aggrieved. You were neither called upon to suffer
wrong nor entitled to resent it when you were under my
protection."
"And what," said the youth, "if I sustained wrong from
those you loved and favoured, was I to disturb your peace
with idle tale-bearings and eternal complaints? No, madam;
I have borne my own burden in silence, and without disturb-
ing you with murmurs; and the respect which you accuse me
of wanting furnishes the only reason why I have neither ap-
pealed to you nor taken vengeance at my own hand in a man-
ner far more effectual. It is well, however, that we part. I
was not born to be a stipendiary, favoured by his mistress
until ruined by the calumnies of others. May Heaven multi-
ply its choicest blessings on your honoured head; and, for your
sake, upon all that are dear to you!”
He was about to leave the apartment, when the lady called
upon him to return. He stood still, while she thus addressed
him: "It was not my intention, nor would it be just, even in
the height of my displeasure, to dismiss you without the
means of support: take this purse of gold."
(C
Forgive me, lady," said the boy, "and let me go hence
with the consciousness that I have not been degraded to the
point of accepting alms. If my poor services can be placed
against the expense of my apparel and my maintenance, I
only remain debtor to you for my life, and that alone is a debt
72
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
which I can never repay; put up then that purse, and only
say instead that you do not part from me in anger.
(6
(C
·
No, not in anger," said the lady, "in sorrow rather for
your wilfulness; but take the gold-you cannot but need it."
'May God evermore bless you for the kind tone and the
kind word! but the gold I cannot take. I am able of body,
and do not lack friends so wholly as you may think; for the
time may come that I may yet show myself more thankful than
by mere words.”
He threw himself on his knees, kissed the
hand which she did not withdraw, and then hastily left the
apartment.
Lilias for a moment or two kept her eye fixed on her mis-
tress, who looked so unusually pale that she seemed about to
faint; but the lady instantly recovered herself, and declining
the assistance which her attendant offered her, walked to her
own apartment.
:
CHAPTER VI.
Thou hast each secret of the household, Francis.
I dare be sworn thou hast been in the buttery
Steeping thy curious humour in fat ale,
And in the butler's tattle-ay, or chatting
With the glib waiting-woman o'er her comfits-
These bear the key to each domestic mystery.
Old Play.
ور
UPON the morrow succeeding the scene we have described,
the disgraced favourite left the castle; and at breakfast-time
the cautious old steward and Mrs. Lilias sat in the apartment
of the latter personage, holding grave converse on the impor-
tant event of the day, sweetened by a small treat of comfits, to
which the providence of Mr. Wingate had added a little flask
of racy canary.
66 He is gone at last," said the abigail, sipping her glass;
"and here is to his good journey."
"Amen," answered the steward, gravely; "I wish the poor
deserted lad no ill.”
"And he is gone like a wild duck, as he came," continued
THE ABBOT.
73
Mrs. Lilias; "no lowering of drawbridges or pacing along
causeways for him. My master has pushed off in the boat
which they call the 'Little Herod' (more shame to them for
giving the name of a Christian to wood and iron), and has
rowed himself by himself to the further side of the lock, and
off and away with himself, and left all his finery strewed about
his room. I wonder who is to clean his trumpery out after
him-though the things are worth lifting too."
"Doubtless, Mrs. Lilias," answered the master of the house-
hold; "in the which case I am free to think they will not
long cumber the floor.”
"And now tell me, Mr. Wingate," continued the damsel,
"do not the very cockles of your heart rejoice at the house
being rid of this upstart whelp, that flung us all into shadow?”
"Why, Mrs. Lilias," replied Wingate, "as to rejoicing-
those who have lived as long in great families as has been my
lot will be in no hurry to rejoice at anything. And for Ro-
land Græme, though he may be a good riddance in the main,
yet what says the very sooth proverb, 'Seldom comes a bet-
ter.'"
"Seldom comes a better, indeed," echoed Mrs. Lilias. "I
say, never can come a worse, or one half so bad. He might
have been the ruin of our poor dear mistress (here she used
her kerchief), body and soul, and estate too; for she spent
more coin on his apparel than on any four servants about the
house."
-
“Mrs. Lilias,” said the sage steward, "I do opine that our
mistress requireth not this pity at our hands, being in all re-
spects competent to take care of her own body, soul, and estate
into the bargain."
"You would not mayhap have said so," answered the wait-
ing-woman, "had you seen how like Lot's wife she looked
when young master took his leave. My mistress is a good
lady, and a virtuous and a well-doing lady, and a well-spoken
of-but I would not Sir Halbert had seen her last evening for
two and a plack.
""
"Oh, foy! foy! foy!" reiterated the steward; "servants
should hear and see, and say nothing. Besides that, my lady
74
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
is utterly devoted to Sir Halbert, as well she may, being, as
he is, the most renowned knight in these parts."
"Well-well," said the abigail, "I mean no harm; but they
that seek least renown abroad are most apt to find quiet at
home, that's all; and my lady's lonesome situation is to be
considered, that made her fain to take up with the first beg-
gar's brat that a dog brought her out of the loch.”
66
And, therefore," said the steward, "I say, rejoice not too
much or too hastily, Mrs. Lilias; for if your lady wished a
favourite to pass away the time, depend upon it, the time
will not pass lighter now he is gone. So she will have an-
other favourite to choose for herself, and be assured, if she
wishes such a toy, she will not lack one.”
"And where should she choose one, but among her own
tried and faithful servants," said Mrs. Lilias, "who have
broken her bread and drank her drink for so many years? I
have known many a lady as high as she that never thought
either of a friend or favourite beyond their own waiting-wo-
man-always having a proper respect, at the same time, for
their old and faithful master of the household, Mr. Wingate."
"Truly, Mrs. Lilias," replied the steward, "I do partly
see the mark at which you shoot, but I doubt your bolt will
fall short. Matters being with our lady as it likes you to
suppose, it will neither be your crimped pinners, Mrs. Lilias
-speaking of them with due respect-nor my silver hair or
golden chain, that will fill up the void which Roland Græme
must needs leave in our lady's leisure. There will be a learned
young divine with some new doctrine; a learned leech with
some new drug; a bold cavalier, who will not be refused the
favour of wearing her colours at a running at the ring; a cun-
ning harper that could harp the heart out of woman's breast,
as they say Signor David Rizzio did to our poor Queen-these
are the sort of folk who supply the loss of a well-favoured
favourite, and not an old steward or a middle-aged waiting-
woman."
"Well," replied Lilias, "you have experience, Master Win-
gate, and truly I would my master would leave off his prick-
ing hither and thither, and look better after the affairs of his
THE ABBOT.
75
household. There will be a Papistrie among us next, for
what should I see among master's clothes but a string of gold
beads? I promise you, aves and credos both! I seized on
them like a falcon.'
,,
"I doubt it not-I doubt it not," said the steward, saga-
ciously nodding his head; "I have often noticed that the boy
had strange observances which savoured of Popery, and that
he was very jealous to conceal them.
But you will find the
Catholic under the Presbyterian cloak as often as the knave
under the friar's hood—what then? we are all mortal. Right
proper beads they are,” he added, looking attentively at them,
"and may weigh four ounces of fine gold.”
"And I will have them melted down presently," she said,
"before they be the misguiding of some poor blinded soul."
"Very cautious, indeed, Mrs. Lilias," said the steward,
nodding his head in assent.
"I will have them made," said Mrs. Lilias, "into a pair of
shoe-buckles; I would not wear the Pope's trinkets, or what-
ever has once borne the shape of them, one inch above my in-
step, were they diamonds instead of gold. But this is what
has come of Father Ambrose coming about the castle, as de-
mure as a cat that is about to steal cream.
"Father Ambrose is our master's brother," said the stew-
ard, gravely.
66
Very true, Master Wingate," replied the dame; "but is
that a good reason why he should pervert the king's liege
subjects to Papistrie?”
"Heaven forbid, Mrs. Lilias," answered the sententious
major-domo; "but yet there are worse folk than the Papists."
"I wonder where they are to be found," said the waiting-
woman, with some asperity; "but I believe, Master Wingate,
if one were to speak to you about the devil himself, you would
say there were worse people than Satan.".
"Assuredly I might say so," replied the steward, "suppos-
ing that I saw Satan standing at my elbow."
The waiting-woman started, and having exclaimed, “God
bless us!" added, "I wonder, Mr. Wingate, you can take
pleasure in frightening one thus."
76
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Nay, Mrs. Lilias, I had no such purpose," was the reply;
"but look you here-the Papists are put down for the pres-
ent, but who knows how long this word 'present' will last?
There are two great Popish earls in the north of England that
abominate the very word 'Reformation': I mean the North-
umberland and Westmoreland earls, men of power enough to
shake any throne in Christendom. Then, though our Scot-
tish King be, God bless him, a true Protestant, yet he is but
a boy; and here is his mother that was our Queen-I trust
there is no harm to say God bless her too-and she is a Cath-
olic; and many begin to think she has had but hard measure,
such as the Hamiltons in the west, and some of our Border
clans here, and the Gordons in the north, who are all wishing
to see a new world; and if such a new world should chance to
come up, it is like that the Queen will take back her own
crown, and that the mass and the cross will come up, and
then down on pulpits, Geneva gowns, and black silk skull-
caps."
•
"And have you, Mr. Jasper Wingate, who have heard the
Word, and listened unto pure and precious Mr. Henry War-
den-have you I say, the patience to speak, or but to think,
of Popery coming down on us like a storm, or of the woman
Mary again making the royal seat of Scotland a throne of
abomination? No marvel that you are so civil to the cowled
monk, Father Ambrose, when he comes hither with his down-
cast eyes that he never raises to my lady's face, and with his
low sweet-toned voice, and his benedicites, and his benisons;
and who so ready to take them kindly as Mr. Wingate?"
"Mrs. Lilias," replied the butler, with an air which was in-
tended to close the debate, "there arc reasons for all things.
If I receive Father Ambrose debonairly, and suffer him to
steal a word now and then with this same Roland Græme, it
was not that I cared a brass boddle for his benison or malison
either, but only because I respected my master's blood. And
who can answer, if Mary come in again, whether he may not
be as stout a tree to lean to as ever his brother hath proven to
us? For down goes the Earl of Murray when the Queen comes
by her own again; and good is his luck if he can keep the
i
G
THE ABBOT.
77
head on his own shoulders.
And down goes our knight with
the Earl, his patron; and who so like to mount into his empty
saddle as this same Father Ambrose? The Pope of Rome can
soon dispense with his vows, and then we should have Sir
Edward the soldier, instead of Ambrose the priest."
Anger and astonishment kept Mrs. Lilias silent, while her
old friend, in his self-complacent manner, was making known
to her his political speculations. At length her resentment
found utterance in words of great ire and scorn.
"What,
Master Wingate! have you eaten my mistress's bread, to say
nothing of my master's, so many years, that you could live to
think of her being dispossessed of her own Castle of Avenel
by a wretched monk who is not a drop's blood to her in the
way of relation? I, that am but a woman, would try first
whether my rock or his cowl were the better metal. Shame
on you, Master Wingate! If I had not held you as so old an
acquaintance, this should have gone to my lady's ears, though
I had been called pickthank and tale-pyet for my pains, as
when I told of Roland Græme shooting the wild swan.
29
Master Wingate was somewhat dismayed at perceiving that
the detail which he had given of his far-sighted political views
had produced on his hearer rather suspicion of his fidelity
than admiration of his wisdom, and endeavoured as hastily
as possible to apologise and to explain, although internally
extremely offended at the unreasonable view, as he deemed
it, which it had pleased Mistress Lilias Bradbourne to take of
his expressions; and mentally convinced that her disapproba-
tion of his sentiments arose solely out of the consideration
that, though Father Ambrose, supposing him to become the
master of the castle, would certainly require the services of a
steward, yet those of a waiting-woman would, in the supposed
circumstances, be altogether superfluous.
After his explanations had been received as explanations
usually are, the two friends separated; Lilias to attend the
silver whistle which called her to her mistress's chamber, and
the sapient major-domo to the duties of his own department.
They parted with less than their usual degree of reverence
and regard; for the steward felt that his worldly wisdom was
78
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
rebuked by the more disinterested attachment of the waiting
woman, and Mistress Lilias Bradbourne was compelled to con-
sider her old friend as something little better than a time-
server.
CHAPTER VII.
When I hae a saxpence under my thumb,
Then I get credit in ilka town;
But when I am poor, they bid me gae by.
Oh poverty parts good company!
Old Song.
WHILE the departure of the page afforded subject for the
conversation which we have detailed in our last chapter, the
late favourite was far advanced on his solitary journey, with-
out well knowing what was its object, or what was likely to
be its end. He had rowed the skiff in which he left the castle
to the side of the lake most distant from the village, with the
desire of escaping from the notice of the inhabitants. His
pride whispered that he would be, in his discarded state, only
the subject of their wonder and compassion; and his generos-
ity told him that any mark of sympathy which his situation
should excite might be unfavourably reported at the castle.
A trifling incident convinced him he had little to fear for his
friends on the latter score. He was met by a young man
some years older than himself, who had on former occasions
been but too happy to be permitted to share in his sports in
the subordinate character of his assistant. Ralph Fisher ap-
proached to greet him with all the alacrity of an humble
friend.
"What, Master Roland, abroad on this side, and without
either hawk or hound?"
“Hawk or hound," said Roland, "I will never perhaps hal-
loo to again. I have been dismissed-that is, I have left the
castle.'
·
""
Ralph was surprised. "What! you are to pass into the
knight's service, and take the black-jack and the lance?”
THE ABBOT.
79
"Indeed," replied Roland Græme, "I am not; I am now
leaving the service of Avenel for ever."
"And whither are you going then?" said the young peas-
ant.
""] Nay, that is a question which it craves time to answer: I
have that matter to determine yet," replied the disgraced fa-
vourite.
"Nay, nay," said Ralph, "I warrant you it is the same to
you which way you go: my lady would not dismiss you till
she had put some lining into the pouches of your doublet."
"Sordid slave!" said Roland Græme, "dost thou think I
would have accepted a boon from one who was giving me over
a prey to detraction and to ruin, at the instigation of a canting
priest and meddling serving-woman? The bread that I had
bought with such an alms would have choked me at the first
mouthful.' ""
Ralph looked at his quondam friend with an air of wonder
not unmixed with contempt. "Well," he said at length, "no
occasion for passion-each man knows his own stomach best;
but, were I on a black moor at this time of day, not knowing
whither I was going, I should be glad to have a broad piece
or two in my pouch, come by them as I could. But perhaps
you will go with me to my father's-that is, for a night, for
to-morrow we expect my uncle Menelaus and all his folk; but
as I said, for one night_"
The cold-blooded limitation of the offered shelter to one
night only, and that tendered most unwillingly, offended the
pride of the discarded favourite.
"I would rather sleep on the fresh heather, as I have done
many a night on less occasion," said Roland Græme, "than
in the smoky garret of your father, that smells of peat-smoke
and usquebaugh like a Highlander's plaid."
"You may choose, my master, if you are so nice," replied
Ralph Fisher; "you may be glad to smell a peat-fire, and
usquebaugh too, if you journey long in the fashion you pro-
pose. You might have said 'God-a-mercy for your proffer'
though; it is not every one will put themselves in the way
of ill-will by harbouring a discarded serving-man."
80
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Ralph," said Roland Græme, "I would pray you to re-
member that I have switched you before now, and this is the
same riding-wand which you have tasted."
Ralph, who was a thick-set clownish figure, arrived at his
full strength, and conscious of the most complete personal su-
periority, laughed contemptuously at the threats of the slight-
made stripling.
((
It may be the same wand," he said, "but not the same
hand;
and that is a good rhyme as if it were in a ballad.
Look you, my lady's page that was, when your switch was
up, it was no fear of you, but of your betters, that kept mine
down; and I wot not what hinders me from clearing old scores
with this hazel rung, and showing you it was your lady's liv-
ery-coat which I spared, and not your flesh and blood, Master
Roland."
In the midst of his rage, Roland Græme was just wise
enough to see that, by continuing this altercation, he would
subject himself to very rude treatment from the boor, who was
so much older and stronger than himself; and while his an-
tagonist, with a sort of jeering laugh of defiance, seemed to
provoke the contest, he felt the full bitterness of his own de-
graded condition, and burst into a passion of tears, which he
in vain endeavoured to conceal with both his hands.
Even the rough churl was moved with the distress of his
quondam companion.
"Nay, Master Roland," he said, "I did but as 'twere jest
with thee; I would not harm thee, man, were it but for old
acquaintance sake. But ever look to a man's inches ere you
talk of switching; why, thine arm, man, is but like a spindle
compared to mine. But hark, I hear old Adam Woodcock
hallooing to his hawk. Come along, man, we will have a
merry afternoon and go jollily to my father's, in spite of the
peat-smoke and usquebaugh to boot. Maybe we may put you
into some honest way of winning your bread, though it's hard
to come by in these broken times."
The unfortunate page made no answer, nor did he with-
draw his hands from his face, and Fisher continued in what
he imagined a suitable tone of comfort.
THE ABBOT.
81
"Why, man, when you were my lady's minion, men held
you proud, and some thought you a Papist, and I wot not
what; and so, now that you have no one to bear you out, you
must be companionable and hearty, and wait on the minister's
examinations, and put these things out of folks' heads; and
if he says you are in fault, you must jouk your head to the
stream; and if a gentleman, or a gentleman's gentleman, give
you a rough word, or a light blow, you must only say, 'Thank
you for dusting my doublet,' or the like, as I have done by
you. But hark to Woodcock's whistle again. Come, and I
will teach you all the trick on't as we go on.
""
"I thank you," said Roland Græme, endeavouring to as-
sume an air of indifference and of superiority; "but I have
another path before me, and were it otherwise, I could not
tread in yours."
"Very true, Master Roland," replied the clown; "and every
man knows his own matters best, and so I will not keep you
from the path, as you say. Give us a grip of your hand,
man, for auld lang syne. What! not clap palms ere we part?
-well, so be it--a wilful man will have his way, and so fare-
well, and the blessing of the morning to you.'
""
"Good-morrow-good-morrow," said Roland, hastily; and
the clown walked lightly off, whistling as he went, and glad,
apparently, to be rid of an acquaintance whose claims might
be troublesome, and who had no longer the means to be ser-
viceable to him.
Roland Græme compelled himself to walk on while they
were within sight of each other, that his former intimate
might not augur any vacillation of purpose, or uncertainty of
object, from his remaining on the same spot; but the effort
was a painful one. He seemed stunned, as it were, and
giddy; the earth on which he stood felt as if unsound, and
quaking under his feet like the surface of a bog; and he had
once or twice nearly fallen, though the path he trode was of
firm greensward. He kept resolutely moving forward, in spite
of the internal agitation to which these symptoms belonged,
until the distant form of his acquaintance disappeared behind
the slope of a hill, when his heart failed at once; and, sitting
6
82
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
4x
down on the turf, remote from human ken, he gave way to
the natural expressions of wounded pride, grief, and fear, and
wept with unrestrained profusion and unqualified bitterness.
When the first violent paroxysm of his feelings had sub-
sided, the deserted and friendless youth felt that mental relief
which usually follows such discharge of sorrow. The tears
continued to chase each other down his cheeks, but they were
no longer accompanied by the same sense of desolation: an
afflicting yet milder sentiment was awakened in his mind by
the recollection of his benefactress, of the unwearied kindness
which had attached her to him, in spite of many acts of pro-
voking petulance, now recollected as offences of a deep dye,
which had protected him against the machinations of others,
as well as against the consequences of his own folly, and
would have continued to do so, had not the excess of his pre-
sumption compelled her to withdraw her protection.
"Whatever indignity I have borne,” he said, "has been the
just reward of my own ingratitude. And have I done well to
accept the hospitality, the more than maternal kindness, of
my protectress, yet to detain from her the knowledge of my
religion? But she shall know that a Catholic has as much
gratitude as a Puritan; that I have been thoughtless, but not
wicked; that in my wildest moments I have loved, respected,
and honoured her; and that the orphan boy might indeed be
heedless, but was never ungrateful!"
He turned, as these thoughts passed through his mind, and
began hastily to retread his footseps towards the castle. But
he checked the first eagerness of his repentant haste when he
reflected on the scorn and contempt with which the family
were likely to see the return of the fugitive, humbled, as they
must necessarily suppose him, into a supplicant, who request-
ed pardon for his fault, and permission to return to his service.
He slackened his pace, but he stood not still.
"I care not," he resolutely determined; "let them wink,
point, nod, sneer, speak of the conceit which is humbled, of
the pride which has had a fall-I care not; it is a penance due
to my folly, and I will endure it with patience. But if she
also, my benefactress-if she also should think me sordid and
THE ABBOT.
83
weak-spirited enough to beg, not for her pardon alone, but for
a renewal of the advantages which I derived from her favour
her suspicion of my meanness I cannot-I will not brook.”
He stood still, and his pride, rallying with constitutional
obstinacy against his more just feeling, urged that he would
incur the scorn of the Lady of Avenel rather than obtain her
favour by following the course which the first ardour of his
repentant feelings had dictated to him.
"If I had but some plausible pretext," he thought-"some
ostensible reason for my return, some excuse to allege which
might show I came not as a degraded supplicant or a discarded
menial, I might go thither; but as I am, I cannot: my heart
would leap from its place and burst."
K
As these thoughts swept through his mind, something passed
in the air so near him as to dazzle his eyes, and almost to
brush the plume in his cap. He looked up—it was the fa-
vourite falcon of Sir Halbert, which, flying around his head,
seemed to claim his attention, as that of a well-known friend.
Roland extended his arm, and gave the accustomed whoop,
and the falcon instantly settled on his wrist, and began to
prune itself, glancing at the youth from time to time an acute
and brilliant beam of its hazel eye, which seemed to ask why
he caressed it not with his usual fondness.
(6
Ah, Diamond!" he said, as if the bird understood him,
66
'thou and I must be strangers henceforward. Many a gal-
lant swoop have I seen thee make, and many a brave heron
strike down; but that is all gone and over, and there is no
hawking more for me!"
"And why not, Master Roland," said Adam Woodcock,
the falconer, who came at that instant from behind a
few alder bushes which had concealed him from view
"why should there be no more hawking for you? Why,
man, what were our life without our sports? Thou know'st
the jolly old song—
And rather would Allan in dungeon lie,
Than live at large where the falcon cannot fly;
And Allan would rather lie in sexton's pound,
Than live where he follow'd not the merry hawk and hound."
84
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
The voice of the falconer was hearty and friendly, and the
tone in which he half-sung, half recited his rude ballad im-
plied honest frankness and cordiality. But remembrance of
their quarrel, and its consequences, embarrassed Roland, and
prevented his reply. The falconer saw his hesitation, and
guessed the cause.
(6
What now," said he, "Master Roland? do you, who are
half an Englishman, think that I, who am a whole one, would
keep up anger against you, and you in distress? That were
like some of the Scots-my master's reverence always except-
ed-who can be fair and false, and wait their time, and keep
their mind, as they say, to themselves, and touch pot and
flagon with you, and hunt and hawk with you, and after all,
when time serves, pay off some old feud with the point of the
dagger. Canny Yorkshire has no memory for such old sores.
Why, man, an you had hit me a rough blow, maybe I would
rather have taken it from you than a rough word from another;
for you have a good notion of falconry, though you stand up
for washing the meat for the eyases. So give us your hand,
man, and bear no malice.”
Roland, though he felt his proud blood rebel at the famil-
iarity of honest Adam's address, could not resist its down-
right frankness. Covering his face with one hand, he held
out the other to the falconer, and returned with readiness his
friendly grasp.
"Why, this is hearty now," said Woodcock; "I always
said you had a kind heart, though you have a spice of the
devil in your disposition, that is certain. I came this way
with the falcon on purpose to find you, and yon half-bred lub-
bard told me which way you took flight. You ever thought
too much of that kestril-kite, Master Roland, and he knows
nought of sport, after all, but what he caught from you. I
saw how it had been betwixt you, and I sent him out of my
company with a wanion; I would rather have a rifler on my
perch than a false knave at my elbow. And now, Master
Roland, tell me what way wing ye?"
"That is as God pleases," replied the page, with a sigh,
which he could not suppress.
THE ABBOT.
85
"Nay, man, never droop a feather for being cast off," said
the falconer; "who knows but you may soar the better and
fairer flight for all this yet? Look at Diamond there; 'tis a
noble bird, and shows gallantly with his hood and bells and
jesses; but there is many a wild falcon in Norway that would
not change properties with him. And that is what I would
say of you. You are no longer my lady's page, and you will
not clothe so fair, or feed so well, or sleep so soft, or show so
gallant. What of all that? if you are not her page, you are
your own man, and may go where you will, without minding
whoop or whistle. The worst is the loss of the sport, but
who knows what you may come to? They say that Sir Hal-
bert himself—I speak with reverence--was once glad to be the
abbot's forester, and now he has hounds and hawks of his own,
and Adam Woodcock for a falconer to the boot.'
""
"You are right, and say well, Adam," answered the youth,
the blood mantling in his cheeks: "the falcon will soar higher
without his bells than with them, though the bells be made of
silver."
"That is cheerily spoken," replied the falconer; "and
whither now?"
"I thought of going to the Abbey of Kennaquhair," an-
swered Roland Græme, "to ask the counsel of Father Am-
brose."
*
"And joy go with you," said the falconer, "though it is
likely you may find the old monks in some sorrow: they say
the commons are threatening to turn them out of their cells,
and make a devil's mass of it in the old church, thinking they
have forborne that sport too long; and troth I am clear of the
same opinion."
"Then will Father Ambrose be the better of having a
friend beside him!" said the page, manfully.
'Ay, but, my young fearnought,” replied the falconer, “the
friend will scarce be the better of being beside Father Am-
brose: he may come by the redder's lick, and that is ever the
worst of the battle."
"I care not for that," said the page;
"the dread of a lick
should not hold me back; but I fear I may bring trouble be-
86
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
tween the brothers by visiting Father Ambrose. I will tarry
to-night at St. Cuthbert's cell, where the old priest will give
me a night's shelter; and I will send to Father Ambrose to
ask his advice before I go down to the convent."
"By Our Lady," said the falconer, "and that is a likely
plan! And now," he continued, changing his frankness of
manner for a sort of awkward embarrassment, as if he had
somewhat to say that he had no ready means to bring out-
"and now, you wot well that I wear a pouch for my hawks'
meat, and so forth, but wot ye what it is lined with, Master
Roland?"
1
“With leather, to be sure,” replied Roland, somewhat sur-
prised at the hesitation with which Adam Woodcock asked a
question apparently so simple.
"With leather, lad?" said Woodcock; "ay, and with silver
to the boot of that. See here," he said, showing a secret slit
in the lining of his bag of office-here they are, thirty good
Harry groats as ever were struck in bluff old Hal's time, anl
ten of them are right heartily at your service; and now the
murder is out.
رو
Roland's first idea was to refuse this assistance; but he rec-
ollected the vows of humility which he had just taken upon
him, and it occurred that this was the opportunity to put this
new-formed resolution to the test. Assuming a strong com-
mand of himself, he answered Adam Woodcock with as much
frankness as his nature permitted him to wear, in doing what
was so contrary to his inclinations, that he accepted thank-
fully of his kind offer, while, to soothe his own reviving pride,
he could not help adding: "He hoped soon to requite the obli-
gation."
dud
'That as you list-that as you list, young man," said the
falconer, with glee, counting out and delivering to his young
friend the supply he had so generously offered, and then add-
ing with great cheerfulness: "Now you may go through the
world; for he that can back a horse, wind a horn, halloo a
greyhound, fly a hawk, and play at sword and buckler, with
a whole pair of shoes, a green jacket, and ten lily-white groats
¹ See Bag for Hawks' Meat. Note 2.
$
G
THE ABBOT,
87
in his pouch, may bid Father Care hang himself in his own
jesses. Farewell, and God be with you!"
So saying, and as if desirous to avoid the thanks of his com-
panion, he turned hastily round, and left Roland Græme to
pursue his journey alone.
CHAPTER VIII.
The sacred tapers' lights are gone,
Grey moss has clad the altar stone,
The holy image is o'erthrown,
The bell has ceased to toll.
The long ribb'd aisles are burst and shrunk
The holy shrines to ruin sunk,
Departed is the pious monk,
God's blessing on his soul!
Rediviva.
THE cell of St. Cuthbert, as it was called, marked, or was
supposed to mark, one of those resting-places which that ven-
erable saint was pleased to assign to his monks, when his con-
vent, being driven from Lindisfern by the Danes, became a
peripatetic society of religionists, and, bearing their patron's
body on their shoulders, transported him from place to place
through Scotland and the borders of England, until he was
pleased at length to spare them the pain of carrying him far-
ther, and to choose his ultimate place of rest in the lordly
towers of Durham. The odour of his sanctity remained be-
hind him at each place where he had granted the monks a
transient respite from their labours; and proud were those
who could assign as his temporary resting-place any spot
within their vicinity. There were few cells more celebrated
and honoured than that of St. Cuthbert, to which Roland
Græme now bent his way, situated considerably to the north-
west of the great Abbey of Kennaquhair, on which it was de-
pendent. In the neighbourhood were some of those recommen-
dations which weighed with the experienced priesthood of Rome
in choosing their sites for places of religion.
There was a well, possessed of some medicinal qualities,
1
88
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:
which, of course, claimed the saint for its guardian and pa-
tron, and occasionally produced some advantage to the recluse
who inhabited his cell, since none could reasonably expect to
benefit by the fountain who did not extend their bounty to the
saint's chaplain. A few roods of fertile land afforded the
monk his plot of garden ground; an eminence well clothed
with trees rose behind the cell, and sheltered it from the north
and the east, while the front, opening to the southwest, looked
up a wild but pleasant valley, down which wandered a lively
brook, which battled with every stone that interrupted its
passage.
The cell itself was rather plainly than rudely constructed
-a low Gothic building with two small apartments, one of
which served the priest for his dwelling-place, the other for his
chapel. As there were few of the secular clergy who durst ven-
ture to reside so near the Border, the assistance of this monk
in spiritual affairs had not been useless to the community while
the Catholic religion retained the ascendency, as he could
marry, christen, and administer the other sacraments of the
Roman Church. Of late, however, as the Protestant doctrines
gained ground, he had found it convenient to live in close re-
tirement, and to avoid, as much as possible, drawing upon him-
self observation or animadversion. The appearance of his hab-
itation, however, when Roland Græme came before it in the
close of the evening, plainly showed that his caution had been
finally ineffectual.
The page's first movement was to knock at the door, when
he observed, to his surprise, that it was open, not from being
left unlatched, but because, beat off its upper hinge, it was
only fastened to the door-post by the lower, and could there-
fore no longer perform its functions. Somewhat alarmed at
this, and receiving no answer when he knocked and called,
Roland began to look more at leisure upon the exterior of the
little dwelling, before he ventured to enter it. The flowers,
which had been trained with care against the walls, seemed to
have been recently torn down, and trailed their dishonoured
garlands on the earth; the latticed window was broken and
dashed in. The garden, which the monk had maintained by
THE ABBOT.
89
his constant labour in the highest order and beauty, bore
marks of having been lately trod down and destroyed by the
hoofs of animals and the feet of men.
The sainted spring had not escaped. It was wont to rise
beneath a canopy of ribbed arches, with which the devotion
of elder times had secured and protected its healing waters.
These arches were now almost entirely demolished, and the
stones of which they were built were tumbled into the well,
as if for the purpose of choking up and destroying the foun-
tain, which, as it had shared in other days the honour of the
saint, was, in the present, doomed to partake his unpopularity.
Part of the roof had been pulled down from the house itself,
and an attempt had been made with crows and levers upon
one of the angles, by which several large corner-stones had
been forced out of their place; but the solidity of ancient ma-
sonwork had proved too great for the time or patience of the
assailants, and they had relinquished their task of destruc-
tion. Such dilapidated buildings, after the lapse of years,
during which nature has gradually covered the effects of vio-
lence with creeping plants and with weather-stains, exhibit,
amid their decay, a melancholy beauty. But when the vis-
ible effects of violence appear raw and recent there is no feel-
ing to mitigate the sense of devastation with which they im-
press the spectators; and such was now the scene on which
the youthful page gazed with the painful feelings it was quali-
fied to excite.
When his first momentary surprise was over, Roland Græme
was at no loss to conjecture the cause of these ravages. The
destruction of the Popish edifices did not take place at once
throughout Scotland, but at different times, and according to
the spirit which actuated the Reformed clergy, some of whom
instigated their hearers to these acts of demolition, and others,
with better taste and feeling, endeavoured to protect the an-
cient shrines, while they desired to see them purified from the
objects which had attracted idolatrous devotion. From time
to time, therefore, the populace of the Scottish towns and
villages, when instigated either by their own feelings of ab-
horrence for Popish superstition or by the doctrines of the
90
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
more zealous preachers, resumed the work of destruction, and
exercised it upon some sequestered church, chapel, or cell,
which had escaped the first burst of their indignation against
the religion of Rome. In many places, the vices of the Cath-
olic clergy, arising out of the wealth and corruption of that
tremendous hierarchy, furnished too good an apology for
wreaking vengeance upon the splendid edifices which they
inhabited; and of this an old Scottish historian gives a re-
markable instance.
،،
Why mourn ye,” said an aged matron, seeing the discon-
tent of some of the citizens while a stately convent was burnt
by the multitude-"why mourn ye for its destruction? If
you knew half the flagitious wickedness which has been
perpetrated within that house, you would rather bless the
Divine judgment which permits not even the senseless walls
that screened such profligacy any longer to cumber Christian
ground!"
But although, in many instances, the destruction of the
Roman Catholic buildings might be, in the matron's way of
judging, an act of justice, and in others an act of policy, there
is no doubt that the humour of demolishing monuments of an-
cient piety and munificence, and that in a poor country like
Scotland, where there was no chance of their being replaced,
was both useless, mischievous, and barbarous.
G
In the present instance, the unpretending and quiet seclu-
sion of the monk of St. Cuthbert's had hitherto saved him
from the general wreck; but it would seem ruin had now
at length reached him. Anxious to discover if he had at
least escaped personal harm, Roland Græme entered the half-
ruined cell.
The interior of the building was in a state which fully justi-
fied the opinion he had formed from its external injuries. Th
few rude utensils of the solitary's hut were broken down, and
lay scattered on the floor, where it seemed as if a fire had
been made with some of the fragments to destroy the rest of
his property, and to consume, in particular, the rude old image
of St. Cuthbert, in its episcopal habit, which lay on the hearth,
like Dagon of yore, shattered with the axe and scorched with

Franson Flameng
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant!'"
Mbales
Abbot, Chap. viii., 91
THE ABBOT.
91
the flames, but only partially destroyed. In the little apart-
ment which served as a chapel, the altar was overthrown, and
the four huge stones of which it had been once composed lay
scattered around the floor. The large stone crucifix which
occupied the niche behind the altar, and fronted the suppli-
cant while he paid his devotion there, had been pulled down,
and dashed by its own weight into three fragments. There
were marks of sledge-hammers on each of these; yet the image
had been saved from utter demolition by the size and strength
of the remaining fragments, which, though much injured, re-
tained enough of the original sculpture to show what it had
been intended to represent.'
Roland Græme, secretly nursed in the tenets of Rome, saw
with horror the profanation of the most sacred emblem, accord-
ing to his creed, of our holy religion.
"It is the badge of our redemption," he said, "which the
felons have dared to violate; would to God my weak strength
were able to replace it—my humble reverence to atone for the
sacrilege!"
He stooped to the task he first meditated, and with a sud-
den, and to himself almost an incredible, exertion of power he
lifted up the one extremity of the lower shaft of the cross, and
rested it upon the edge of the large stone which served for its
pedestal. Encouraged by this success, he applied his force to
the other extremity, and, to his own astonishment, succeeded
so far as to erect the lower end of the limb into the socket, out
of which it had been forced, and to place this fragment of the
image upright.
While he was employed in this labour, or rather at the very
moment when he had accomplished the elevation of the frag-
ment, a voice, in thrilling and well-known accents, spoke be-
hind him these words: "Well done, thou good and faithful
servant! Thus would I again meet the child of my love-the
hope of my aged eyes."
Roland turned round in astonishment, and the tall com-
1anding form of Magdalen Græme stood beside him. She
was arrayed in a sort of loose habit, in form like that worn by
¹ See Cell of St. Cuthbert. Note 3.
92
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
penitents in Catholic countries, but black in colour, and ap-
proaching as near to a pilgrim's cloak as it was safe to wear
in a country where the suspicion of Catholic devotion in many
places endangered the safety of those who were suspected of
attachment to the ancient faith. Roland Græme threw him-
self at her feet. She raised and embraced him, with affection
indeed, but not unmixed with gravity which amounted almost
to sternness.
Thou hast kept well," she said, "the bird in thy bosom.¹
As a boy, as a youth, thou hast held fast thy faith amongst
heretics: thou hast kept thy secret and mine own amongst
thine enemies. I wept when I parted from you-I who sel-
dom weep, then shed tears, less for thy death than for thy
spiritual danger. I dared not even see thee to bid thee a last
farewell; my grief-my swelling grief had betrayed me to
these heretics. But thou hast been faithful; down-down on
thy knees before the holy sign, which evil men injure and blas-
pheme-down and praise saints and angels for the grace they
have done thee, in preserving thee from the leprous plague
which cleaves to the house in which thou wert nurtured!"
66
"If, my mother-so I must ever call you,” replied Græme
"if I am returned such as thou wouldst wish me, thou must
thank the care of the pious Father Ambrose, whose instruc-
tions confirmed your early precepts, and taught me at once
to be faithful and to be silent."
:
"Be he blessed for it!" said she "blessed in the cell and
in the field, in the pulpit and at the altar! The saints rain
blessings on him! They are just, and employ his pious care
to counteract the evils which his detested brother works
against the realm and the church. But he knew not of thy
lineage?"
"I could not myself tell him that," answered Roland.
"I
knew but darkly from your words that Sir Halbert Glendin-
ning holds mine inheritance, and that I am of blood as noble
as runs in the veins of any Scottish baron; these are things
1
¹ An expression used by Sir Ralph Percy, slain in the battle of Hedgely
Moor in 1464, when dying, to express his having preserved unstained his
fidelity to the house of Lancaster.
THE ABBOT.
93
not to be forgotten, but for the explanation I must now look
to you."
"And when time suits thou shalt not ask for it in vain.
But men say, my son, that thou art bold and sudden; and
those who bear such tempers are not lightly to be trusted with
what will strongly move them."
"Say rather, my mother," returned Roland Græme, “that
I am laggard and cold-blooded; what patience or endurance
can you require of which he is not capable who for years has
heard his religion ridiculed and insulted, yet failed to plunge
his dagger into the blasphemer's bosom!"
"Be contented, my child," replied Magdalen Græme; "the
time, which then and even now demands patience, will soon
ripen to that of effort and action; great events are on the
wing, and thou-thou shalt have thy share in advancing them.
Thou hast relinquished the service of the Lady of Avenel?”
“I have been dismissed from it, my mother-I have lived
to be dismissed, as if I were the meanest of the train."
"It is the better, my child," replied she; "thy mind will
be the more hardened to undertake that which must be per-
formed."
66
“Let it be nothing, then, against the Lady of Avenel,” said
the page,
as thy look and words seem to imply. I have eat-
en her bread—I have experienced her favour; I will neither
injure nor betray her."
"Of that hereafter, my son," said she; "but learn this,
that it is not for thee to capitulate in thy duty, and to say
this will I do, and that will I leave undone. No, Roland!
God and man will no longer abide the wickedness of this
generation. Seest thou these fragments-knowest thou what
they represent?—and canst thou think it is for thee to make
distinctions amongst a race so accursed by Heaven that they
renounce, violate, blaspheme, and destroy whatsoever we are
commanded to believe in, whatsoever we are commanded to
reverence?"
As she spoke, she bent her head towards the broken image,
with a countenance in which strong resentment and zeal were
mingled with an expression of ecstatic devotion; she raised
94
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
her left hand aloft as in the act of making a vow, and thus
proceeded: "Bear witness for me, blessed symbol of our sal-
vation-bear witness, holy saint, within whose violated tem-
ple we stand, that as it is not for vengeance of my own that
my hate pursues these people, so neither, for any favour or
earthly affection towards any amongst them, will I withdraw
my hand from the plough, when it shall pass through the de-
voted furrow! Bear witness, holy saint, once thyself a wan-
derer and fugitive as we are now-bear witness, Mother of
Mercy, Queen of Heaven-bear witness, saints and angels!"
In this high strain of enthusiasm she stood, raising her eyes
through the fractured roof of the vault to the stars which now
began to twinkle through the pale twilight, while the long
grey tresses which hung down over her shoulders waved in
the night breeze, which the chasm and fractured windows
admitted freely.
Roland Græme was too much awed by early habits, as well
as by the mysterious import of her words, to ask for further
explanation of the purpose she obscurely hinted at. Nor did
she farther press him on the subject; for, having concluded
her prayer or obtestation, by clasping her hands together with
solemnity, and then signing herself with the cross, she again
addressed her grandson, in a tone more adapted to the ordi-
nary business of life.
Thou must hence," she said, "Roland-thou must hence,
but not till morning. And now, how wilt thou shift for thy
night's quarters? Thou hast been more softly bred than when
we were companions in the misty hills of Cumberland and Lid-
desdale."
•
"I have at least preserved, my good mother, the habits
which I then learned-can lie hard, feed sparingly, and think
it no hardship. Since I was a wanderer with thee on the
hills, I have been a hunter, and fisher, and fowler, and each
of these is accustomed to sleep freely in a worse shelter than
sacrilege has left us here."
(6
"Than sacrilege has left us here!" said the matron, repeat-
ing his words, and pausing on them. 'Most true, my son;
and God's faithful children are now worst sheltered when they
THE ABBOT.
95
lodge in God's own house and the demesne of His blessed
saints. We shall sleep cold here under the night-wind, which
whistles through the breaches that heresy has made. They
shall lie warmer who made them-ay, and through a long
hereafter!"
care.
Notwithstanding the wild and singular expressions of this
female, she appeared to retain towards Roland Græme, in a
strong degree, that affectionate and sedulous love which women
bear to their nurslings, and the children dependent on their
It seemed as if she would not permit him to do aught
for himself which in former days her attention had been used
to do for him, and that she considered the tall stripling before
her as being equally dependent on her careful attention as
when he was the orphan child who had owed all to her affec-
tionate solicitude.
"What hast thou to eat now?" she said, as, leaving the
chapel, they went into the deserted habitation of the priest;
(( or what means of kindling a fire, to defend thee from this
raw and inclement air? Poor child! thou hast made slight
provision for a long journey; nor hast thou skill to help thy-
self by wit, when means are scanty. But Our Lady has placed
by thy side one to whom want, in all its forms, is as familiar
as plenty and splendour have formerly been. And with want,
Roland, come the arts of which she is the inventor."
With an active and officious diligence, which strangely con-
trasted with her late abstracted and high tone of Catholic
devotion, she set about her domestic arrangements for the
evening. A pouch, which was hidden under her garment,
produced a flint and steel, and from the scattered fragments
around (those pertaining to the image of St. Cuthbert scru-
pulously excepted) she obtained splinters sufficient to raise a
sparkling and cheerful fire on the hearth of the deserted cell.
"And now,” she said, "for needful food.'
"Think not of it, mother," said Roland, "unless you your-
self feel hunger. It is a little thing for me to endure a night's
abstinence, and a small atonement for the necessary transgres-
sion of the rules of the church upon which I was compelled
during my stay in the castle."
رو
-
96.
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Hunger for myself!" answered the matron. "Know,.
youth, that a mother knows not hunger till that of her child
is satisfied." And with affectionate inconsistency, totally
different from her usual manner, she added: "Roland, you
must not fast; you have dispensation; you are young, and
to youth food and sleep are necessaries not to be dispensed
with. Husband your strength, my child; your sovereign,
your religion, your country require it. Let age macerate by
fast and vigil a body which can only suffer; let youth, in these
active times, nourish the limbs and the strength which action
requires."
While she thus spoke, the scrip, which had produced the
means of striking fire, furnished provision for a meal; of
which she herself scarce partook, but anxiously watched her
charge, taking a pleasure, resembling that of an epicure, in
each morsel which he swallowed, with a youthful appetite
which abstinence had rendered unusually sharp. Roland
readily obeyed her recommendations, and ate the food which
she so affectionately and earnestly placed before him. But
she shook her head when invited by him in return to partake
of the refreshment her own cares had furnished; and when his
solicitude became more pressing, she refused him in a loftier
tone of rejection.
"Young man," she said, "you know not to whom, or of
what, you speak. They to whom Heaven declares its purpose
must merit its communication by mortifying the senses; they
have that within which requires not the superfluity of earthly
nutriment, which is necessary to those who are without the
sphere of the Vision. To them the watch spent in prayer is
a refreshing slumber, and the sense of doing the will of Heaven
is a richer banquet than the tables of monarchs can spread
before them! But do thou sleep soft, my son," she said,
relapsing from the tone of fanaticism into that of maternal
affection and tenderness "do thou sleep sound while life
is but young with thee, and the cares of the day can be
drowned in the slumbers of the evening. Different is
thy duty and mine, and as different the means by which
we must qualify and strengthen ourselves to perform it.
THE ABBOT.
97
From thee is demanded strength of body-from me strength
of soul."
When she thus spoke, she prepared with ready address a
pallet-couch, composed partly of the dried leaves which had
once furnished a bed to the solitary, and the guests who occa-
sionally received his hospitality, and which, neglected by the
destroyers of his humble cell, had remained little disturbed
in the corner allotted for them. To these her care added
some of the vestures which lay torn and scattered on the floor.
With a zealous hand she selected all such as appeared to have
made any part of the sacerdotal vestments, laying them aside
as sacred from ordinary purposes, and with the rest she made,
with dexterous promptness, such a bed as a weary man might
willingly stretch himself on; and during the time she was
preparing it, rejected, even with acrimony, any attempt which
the youth made to assist her, or any entreaty which he urged
that she should accept of the place of rest for her own use.
"Sleep thou," said she, "Roland Græme-sleep thou-the
persecuted, the disinherited orphan-the son of an ill-fated
mother-sleep thou! I go to pray in the chapel beside thee."
The manner was too enthusiastically earnest, too obstinately
firm, to permit Roland Græme to dispute her will any farther.
Yet he felt some shame in giving way to it. It seemed as if
she had forgotten the years that had passed away since their
parting; and expected to meet, in the tall, indulged, and wil-
ful youth whom she had recovered, the passive obedience of
the child whom she had left in the Castle of Avenel. This
did not fail to hurt her grandson's characteristic and constitu-
tional pride. He obeyed, indeed, awed into submission by the
sudden recurrence of former subordination, and by feelings of
affection and gratitude. Still, however, he felt the yoke.
4
"Have I relinquished the hawk and the hound," he said,
"to become the pupil of her pleasure, as if I were still a child?
I, whom even my envious mates allowed to be superior in those
exercises which they took most pains to acquire, and which
came to me naturally, as if a knowledge of them had been my
birthright? This may not, and must not be. I will be no re-
claimed sparrow-hawk, who is carried hooded on a woman's
7
98
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
wrist, and has his quarry only shown to him when his eyes are
uncovered for his flight. I will know her purpose ere it is
proposed to me to aid it."
These and other thoughts streamed through the mind of
Roland Græme; and, although wearied with the fatigues of
the day, it was long ere he could compose himself to rest.
CHAPTER IX.
Kneel with me-swear it-'tis not in words I trust,
Save when they're fenced with an appeal to Heaven.
Old Play.
AFTER passing the night in that sound sleep for which agi-
tation and fatigue had prepared him, Roland was awakened by
the fresh morning air, and by the beams of the rising sun.
His first feeling was that of surprise; for, instead of looking
forth from a turret window on the waters of the Lake of Ave- .
nel, which was the prospect his former apartment afforded, ar
unlatticed aperture gave him the view of the demolished gar-
den of the banished anchorite. He sate up on his couch of
leaves, and arranged in his memory, not without wonder, the
singular events of the preceding day, which appeared the more
surprising the more he considered them. He had lost the pro-
tectress of his youth, and, in the same day, he had recovered
the guide and guardian of his childhood. The former depri-
vation he felt ought to be matter of unceasing regret, and it
seemed as if the latter could hardly be the subject of unmixed
self-congratulation. He remembered this person, who had
stood to him in the relation of a mother, as equally affection-
ate in her attention and absolute in her authority. A singular
mixture of love and fear attended upon his early remembrances
as they were connected with her; and the fear that she might
desire to resume the same absolute control over his motions--
a fear which her conduct of yesterday did not tend much to
dissipate weighed heavily against the joy of this second
meeting.
THE ABBOT.
99
ty
"She cannot mean," said his rising pride, "to lead and di-
rect me as a pupil, when I am at the age of judging of my own
actions?-this she cannot mean, or meaning it, will feel her-
self strangely deceived."
A sense of gratitude towards the person against whom his
heart thus rebelled checked this course of feeling. He re-
sisted the thoughts which involuntarily arose in his mind, as
he would have resisted an actual instigation of the foul fiend;
and, to aid him in his struggle, he felt for his beads.
But,
in his hasty departure from the Castle of Avenel, he had for-
gotten and left them behind him.
"This is yet worse," he said; "but two things I learned of
her under the most deadly charge of secrecy-to tell my beads,
and to conceal that I did so; and I have kept my word till
now; and when she shall ask me for the rosary, I must say I
have forgotten it! Do I deserve she should believe me when
I say I have kept the secret of my faith, when I set so light
by its symbol?”
He paced the floor in anxious agitation. In fact, his attach-
ment to his faith was of a nature very different from that which
animated the enthusiastic matron, but which, notwithstanding,
it would have been his last thought to relinquish.
The early charges impressed on him by his grandmother
had been instilled into a mind and memory of a character pe-
culiarly tenacious. Child as he was, he was proud of the con-
fidence reposed in his discretion, and resolved to show that i
had not been rashly entrusted to him. At the same time, his
resolution was no more than that of a child, and must, neces-
sarily, have gradually faded away under the operation both
of precept and example, during his residence at the Castle of
Avenel, but for the exhortations of Father Ambrose, who, in
his lay estate, had been called Edward Glendinning. This
zealous monk had been apprised, by an unsigned letter placed
in his hand by a pilgrim, that a child educated in the Catholic
faith was now in the Castle of Avenel, perilously situated (so
was the scroll expressed) as ever the three children who were
cast into the fiery furnace of persecution. The letter threw
upon Father Ambrose the fault should this solitary lamb, un-
100
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
>
willingly left within the demesnes of the prowling wolf, be-
come his final prey. There needed no farther exhortation to
the monk than the idea that a soul might be endangered, and
that a Catholic might become an apostate; and he made his
visits more frequent than usual to the Castle of Avenel, lest,
through want of the private encouragement and instruction
which he always found some opportunity of dispensing, the
church should lose a proselyte, and, according to the Romish
creed, the devil acquire a soul.
Still these interviews were rare; and though they encouraged
the solitary boy to keep his secret and hold fast his religion,
they were neither frequent nor long enough to inspire him
with anything beyond a blind attachment to the observances
which the priest recommended. He adhered to the forms of
his religion, rather because he felt it would be dishonourable
to change that of his fathers than from any rational conviction
or sincere belief of its mysterious doctrines. It was a princi-
pal part of the distinction which, in his own opinion, singled
him out from those with whom he lived, and gave him an ad-
ditional, though an internal and concealed, reason for con-
temning those of the household who showed an undisguised
dislike of him, and for hardening himself against the instruc-
tions of the chaplain, Henry Warden.
“The fanatic preacher," he thought within himself, during
some one of the chaplain's frequent discourses against the
Church of Rome, "he little knows whose ears are receiving
his profane doctrine, and with what contempt and abhorrence
they hear his blasphemies against the holy religion by which
kings have been crowned and for which martyrs have died!"
But in such proud feelings of defiance of heresy, as it was
termed, and of its professors, which associated the Catholic
religion with a sense of generous independence, and that of
the Protestants with the subjugation of his mind and temper
to the direction of Mr. Warden, began and ended the faith of
Roland Græme, who, independently of the pride of singular-
ity, sought not to understand, and had no one to expound to
him, the peculiarities of the tenets which he professed. His
regret, therefore, at missing the rosary which had been con-
THE ABBOT
101
veyed to him through the hands of Father Ambrose was rather
the shame of a soldier who has dropped his cockade, or badge
of service, than that of a zealous votary who had forgotten a
visible symbol of his religion.
His thoughts on the subject, however, were mortifying, and
the more so from apprehension that his negligence must reach
the ears of his relative. He felt it could be no one but her
who had secretly transmitted these beads to Father Ambrose
for his use, and that his carelessness was but an indifferent
requital of her kindness.
"Nor will she omit to ask me about them," said he to him-
self; "for hers is a zeal which age cannot quell; and if she
has not quitted her wont, my answer will not fail to incense
her."
While he thus communed with himself, Magdalen Græme
entered the apartment. "The blessing of the morning on
your youthful head, my son," she said, wtih a solemnity of
expression which thrilled the youth to the heart, so sad and
earnest did the benediction flow from her lips, in a tone where
devotion was blended with affection. (( And thou hast started
thus early from thy couch to catch the first breath of the dawn?
But it is not well, my Roland. Enjoy slumber while thou
canst; the time is not far behind when the waking eye must
be thy portion as well as mine."
She uttered these words with an affectionate and anxious
tone, which showed that, devotional as were the habitual ex-
ercises of her mind, the thoughts of her nursling yet bound
her to earth with the cords of human affection and passion.
But she abode not long in a mood which she probably re-
garded as a momentary dereliction of her imaginary high call-
ing. "Come," she said, "youth, up and be doing. It is time
that we leave this place."
"And whither do we go?" said the young man;
66 or what
is the object of our journey?"
The matron stepped back, and gazed on him with surprise,
not unmingled with displeasure.
"To what purpose such a question?" she said; "is it not
enough that I lead the way? Hast thou lived with heretics
102
WAVERLEŸ NOVELS.
ļ
till thou hast learned to install the vanity of thine own private
judgment in place of due honour and obedience?"
"The time," thought Roland Græme within himself, "is
already come when I must establish my freedom or be a will-
ing thrall for ever. I feel that I must speedily look to it.”
She instantly fulfilled his foreboding, by recurring to the
theme by which her thoughts seemed most constantly en-
grossed, although, when she pleased, no one could so perfectly
disguise her religion.
"Thy beads, my son-hast thou told thy beads?"
Roland Græme coloured high; he felt the storm was ap-
proaching, but scorned to avert it by a falsehood.
"I have forgotten my rosary," he said, "at the Castle of
Avenel."
"Forgotten thy rosary!" she exclaimed; "false both to re-
ligion and to natural duty, hast thou lost what was sent so
far, and at such risk, a token of the truest affection, that
should have been, every bead of it, as dear to thee as thine
eyeballs?"
"I am grieved it should have so chanced, mother," replied
the youth, "and much did I value the token, as coming from
you. For what remains, I trust to win gold enough, when
I push my way in the world; and till then beads of black oak,
or a rosary of nuts, must serve the turn.”
"Hear him!" said his grandmother; "young as he is, he hath
learned already the lessons of the devil's school! The rosary
consecrated by the Holy Father himself, and sanctified by his
blessings, is but a few knobs of gold, whose value may be
replaced by the wages of his profane labour, and whose virtue
may be supplied by a string of hazel nuts! This is heresy.
So Henry Warden, the wolf who ravages the flock of the
Shepherd, hath taught thee to speak and to think."
"Mother," said Roland Græme, "I am no heretic; I believe
and I pray according to the rules of our church. This mis-
fortune I regret, but I cannot amend it."
"Thou canst repent it, though," replied his spiritual direc-
tress-"repent it in dust and ashes, atone for it by fasting,
prayer, and penance, instead of looking on me with a counte-
THE ABBOT.
103
nance as light as if thou hadst lost but a button from thy
cap."
Mother," said Roland, "be appeased; I will remember
my
fault in the next confession which I have space and op-
portunity to make, and will do whatever the priest may require
of me in atonement. For the heaviest fault I can do no more.
But, mother," he added, after a moment's pause, "let me not
incur your farther displeasure, if I ask whither our journey is
bound, and what is its object. I am no longer a child, but a
man, and at my own disposal, with down upon my chin and
a sword by my side; I will go to the end of the world with
you to do your pleasure, but I owe it to myself to inquire the
purpose and direction of our travels.”
"You owe it to yourself, ungrateful boy!" replied his rela-
tive, passion rapidly supplying the colour which age had long
.chased from her features. "To yourself you owe nothing—
you can owe nothing; to me you owe everything-your life
when an infant-your support when a child-the means of
instruction and the hopes of honour; and, sooner than thou
shouldst abandon the noble cause to which I have devoted
thee, would I see thee lie a corpse at my feet!"
•
Roland was alarmed at the vehement agitation with which
she spoke, and which threatened to overpower her aged frame;
and he hastened to reply: "I forget nothing of what I owe
to you, my dearest mother; show me how my blood can testify
my gratitude, and you shall judge if I spare it. But blind-
fold obedience has in it as little merit as reason. ""
"Saints and angels!" replied Magdalen, "and do I hear
these words from the child of my hopes, the nursling by whose
bed I have kneeled, and for whose weal I have wearied every
saint in Heaven with prayers? Roland, by obedience only
canst thou show thy affection and thy gratitude. What avails
it that you might perchance adopt the course I propose to thee,
were it to be fully explained? Thou wouldst not then follow
my command, but thine own judgment; thou wouldst not do
the will of Heaven, communicated through thy best friend, to
whom thou owest thine all; but thou wouldst observe the
blinded dictates of thine own imperfect reason.
Hear me,
1
104
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Roland! a lot calls thee-solicits thee-demands thee-the
proudest to which man can be destined, and it uses the voice
of thine earliest thy best-thine only friend. Wilt thou re-
sist it? Then go thy way-leave me here; my hopes on earth
are gone and withered. I will kneel me down before yonder
profaned altar, and when the raging heretics return, they shall
dye it with the blood of a martyr!" ·
66 But, my dearest mother," said Roland Græme, whose early
recollections of her violence were formidably renewed by these
wild expressions of reckless passion, "I will not forsake you—
I will abide with you: worlds shall not force me from your side.
I will protect-I will defend you; I will live with you, and die
for you!"
"One word, my son, were worth all these; say only, 'I
will obey you.""
"Doubt it not, mother," replied the youth, "I will, and
that with all my heart; only—-
""
"Nay, I receive no qualifications of thy promise,” said Mag-
dalen Græme, catching at the word, "the obedience which I
require is absolute; and a blessing on thee, thou darling
memory of my beloved child, that thou hast power to make a
promise so hard to human pride! Trust me well, that in
the design in which thou dost embark thou hast for thy part-
ners the mighty and the valiant, the power of the church,
and the pride of the noble. Succeed or fail, live or die, thy
name shall be among those with whom success or failure is
alike glorious, death or life alike desirable. Forward then-
forward! life is short, and our plan is laborious. Angels,
saints, and the whole blessed host of Heaven have their eyes
even now on this barren and blighted land of Scotland. What
say I? On Scotland? Their eye is on us, Roland-on the
frail woman, on the inexperienced youth, who, amidst the
ruins which sacrilege hath made in the holy place, devote
themselves to God's cause, and that of their lawful sovereign.
Amen, so be it! The blessed eyes of saints and martyrs,
which see our resolve, shall witness the execution; or their
ears, which hear our vow, shall hear our death-groan drawn
in the sacred cause!"
THE ABBOT.
105
While thus speaking, she held Roland Græme firmly with
one hand, while she pointed upward with the other, to leave
him, as it were, no means of protest against the obtestation to
which he was thus made a party. When she had finished her
appeal to Heaven, she left him no leisure for farther hesita-
tion, or for asking any explanation of her purpose; but, pass-
ing with the same ready transition as formerly to the solicitous
attention of an anxious parent, overwhelmed him with ques-
tions concerning his residence in the Castle of Avenel, and the
qualities and accomplishments he had acquired.
"It is well," she said, when she had exhausted her inqui-
ries: "my gay goss-hawk' hath been well retained, and will
soar high; but those who bred him will have cause to fear as
well as to wonder at his flight. Let us now," she said, "to
our morning meal, and care not though it be a scanty one. A
few hours' walk will bring us to more friendly quarters.
""
They broke their fast accordingly on such fragments as re-
mained of their yesterday's provision, and immediately set out
on their farther journey. Magdalen Græme led the way, with
a firm and active step much beyond her years, and Roland
Græme followed, pensive and anxious, and far from satisfied
with the state of dependence to which he seemed again to be
reduced.
"Am I for ever," he said to himself, "to be devoured with
the desire of independence and free agency, and yet to be for
ever led on by circumstances to follow the will of others?"
CHAPTER X.
She dwelt unnoticed and alone,
Beside the springs of Dove-
A maid whom there was none to praise,
And very few to love.
WORDSWORTH.
In the course of their journey the travellers spoke little to
each other. Magdalen Græme chanted, from time to time,
in a low voice, a part of some one of those beautiful old Latin
1 See Note 4.
106
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
hymns which belong to the Catholic service, muttered an ave
or a credo, and so passed on, lost in devotional contemplation.
The meditations of her grandson were more bent on mundane
matters; and many a time, as a moorfowl arose from the
heath and shot along the moor, uttering his bold crow of de-
fiance, he thought of the jolly Adam Woodcock and his trusty
goss-hawk, or, as they passed a thicket where the low trees
and bushes were intermingled with tall fern, furze, and broom,
so as to form a thick and intricate cover, his dreams were of a
roebuck and a race of gazehounds. But frequently his mind
returned to the benevolent and kind mistress whom he had
left behind him, offended justly, and unreconciled by any
effort of his.
"My step would be lighter," he thought, "and so would
my heart, could I but have returned to see her for one instant,
and to say: 'Lady, the orphan boy was wild, but not ungrate-
ful!'"
Travelling in these divers moods, about the hour of noon
they reached a small straggling village, in which, as usual,
were seen one or two of those predominating towers, or peel-
houses, which, for reasons of defence elsewhere detailed, were
at that time to be found in every Border hamlet. A brook
flowed beside the village, and watered the valley in which it
stood. There was also a mansion at the end of the village
and a little way separated from it, much dilapidated and in
very bad order, but appearing to have been the abode of per-
sons of some consideration. The situation was agreeable,
being an angle formed by the stream, bearing three or four
large sycamore-trees, which were in full leaf, and served to
relieve the dark appearance of the mansion, which was built
of a deep-red stone. The house itself was a large one, but
was now obviously too big for the inmates; several windows
were built up, especially those which opened from the lower
story; others were blockaded in a less substantial manner.
The court before the door, which had once been defended with
a species of low outer wall, now ruinous, was paved, but the
stones were completely covered with long grey nettles, thistles,
and other weeds, which, shooting up betwixt the flags, had
>
THE ABBOT.
107
displaced many of them from their level. Even matters de-
manding more peremptory attention had been left neglected,
in a manner which argued sloth or poverty in the extreme.
The stream, undermining a part of the bank near an angle of
the ruinous wall, had brought it down, with a corner turret,
the ruins of which lay in the bed of the river. The cur-
rent, interrupted by the ruins which it had overthrown,
and turned yet nearer to the site of the tower, had greatly
enlarged the breach it had made, and was in the process
of undermining the ground on which the house itself
stood, unless it were speedily protected by sufficient bul-
warks.
All this attracted. Roland Græme's observation, as they
approached the dwelling by a winding path, which gave them,
at intervals, a view of it from different points.
"If we go to yonder house," he said to his [grand-] mother,
66 I trust it is but for a short visit. It looks as if two rainy
days from the northwest would send the whole into the
brook."
(6
You see but with the eyes of the body," said the old wo-
man;
“God will defend His own, though it be forsaken and
despised of men. Better to dwell on the sand, under His law,
than fly to the rock of human trust."
As she thus spoke, they entered the court before the old
mansion, and Roland could observe that the front of it had
formerly been considerably ornamented with carved work, in
the same dark-coloured freestone of which it was built. But
all these ornaments had been broken down and destroyed, and
only the shattered vestiges of niches and entablatures now
strewed the place which they had once occupied. The larger
entrance in front was walled up, but a little footpath, which,
from its appearance, seemed to be rarely trodden, led to a
small wicket, defended by a door well clenched with iron-
headed nails, at which Magdalen Græme knocked three times,
pausing betwixt each knock, until she heard an answering tap
from within. At the last knock, the wicket was opened by a
pale thin female, who said, "Benedicti qui veniunt in nomine
Domini." They entered, and the portress hastily shut behind
·
108
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
them the wicket, and made fast the massive fastenings by
which it was secured.
The female led the way through a narrow entrance, into a
vestibule of some extent, paved with stone, and having benches
of the same solid material ranged around. At the upper end
was an oriel window, but some of the intervals formed by the
stone shafts and mullions were blocked up, so that the apart-
ment was very gloomy.
Here they stopped, and the mistress of the mansion, for such
she was, embraced Magdalen Græme, and greeting her by the
title of sister, kissed her, with much solemnity, on either side
of the face.
"The blessing of Our Lady be upon you, my sister," were
her next words; and they left no doubt upon Roland's mind
respecting the religion of their hostess, even if he could have
suspected his venerable and zealous guide of resting elsewhere
than in the habitation of an orthodox Catholic. They spoke
together a few words in private, during which he had leisure
to remark more particularly the appearance of his grandmoth-
er's friend.
·
Her age might be betwixt fifty and sixty; her looks had
a mixture of melancholy and unhappiness that bordered
on discontent, and obscured the remains of beauty which
age had still left on her features. Her dress was of the
plainest and most ordinary description, of a dark colour,
and, like Magdalen Græme's, something approaching to
a religious habit. Strict neatness and cleanliness of per-
son seemed to intimate that, if poor, she was not reduced
to squalid or heartbroken distress, and that she was still
sufficiently attached to life to retain a taste for its decen-
cies, if not its elegancies. Her manner, as well as her
features and appearance, argued an original condition and
education far above the meanness of her present appear-
ance. In short, the whole figure was such as to excite
the idea, "That female must have had a history worth
knowing." While Roland Græme was making this very
reflection, the whispers of the two females ceased, and the
mistress of the mansion, approaching him, looked on his face
THE ABBOT.
109
and person with much attention, and, as it seemed, some
interest.
"This, then," she said, addressing his relative, "is the child
of thine unhappy daughter, Sister Magdalen; and him, the
only shoot from your ancient tree, you are willing to devote to
the good cause?"
"Yes, by the rood," answered Magdalen Græme, in her
usual tone of resolved determination, "to the good cause I de-
vote him, flesh and fell, sinew and limb, body and soul?”
"Thou art a happy woman, Sister Magdalen," answered her
companion, "that, lifted so high above human affection and
human feeling, thou canst bind such a victim to the horns of
the altar. Had I been called to make such sacrifice-to plunge
a youth so young and fair into the plots and bloodthirsty deal-
ings of the time, not the patriarch Abraham, when he led Isaac
up the mountain, would have rendered more melancholy obe-
dience."
She then continued to look at Roland with a mournful aspect
of compassion, until the intentness of her gaze occasioned his
colour to rise, and he was about to move out of its influence,
when he was stopped by his grandmother with one hand,
while with the other she divided the hair upon his forehead,
which was now crimson with bashfulness, while she added,
with a mixture of proud affection and firm resolution: "Ay,
look at him well, my sister, for on a fairer face thine
eye never rested. I too, when first I saw him, after a long
separation, felt as the worldly feel, and was half shaken in
my purpose. But no wind can tear a leaf from the withered
tree which has long been stripped of its foliage, and no mere
human casualty can awaken the mortal feelings which have
long slept in the calm of devotion."
While the old woman thus spoke, her manner gave the lie
to her assertions, for the tears rose to her eyes while she
added: "But the fairer and the more spotless the victim, is it
not, my sister, the more worthy of acceptance?" She seemed
glad to escape from the sensations which agitated her, and in-
stantly added: "He will escape, my sister: there will be a ram
caught in the thicket, and the hand of our revolted brethren
110
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
shall not be on the youthful Joseph.
Heaven can defend its
own rights, even by means of babes and sucklings, of women
and beardless boys."
“Heaven hath left us," said the other female: "for our sins
and our fathers' the succours of the blessed saints have aban-
doned this accursed land. We may win the crown of martyr-
dom, but not that of earthly triumph. One, too, whose pru-
dence was at this deep crisis so indispensable, has been called
to a better world. The Abbot Eustatius is no more. ""
-
"May his soul have mercy!" said Magdalen Græme, and
may Heaven, too, have mercy upon us, who linger behind in
this bloody land. His loss is indeed a perilous blow to our
enterprise; for who remains behind possessing his far-fetched
experience, his self-devoted zeal, his consummate wisdom, and
his undaunted courage! He hath fallen, with the church's
standard in his hand, but God will raise up another to lift
the blessed banner. Whom have the chapter elected in his
room?"
"It is rumoured no one of the few remaining brethren dare
accept the office. The heretics have sworn that they will per-
mit no future election, and will heavily punish any attempt
to create a new abbot of St. Mary's. Conjuraverunt inter se
principes, dicentes, Projiciamus laqueos ejus."
(C
Quousque, Domine?" ejaculated Magdalen. "This, my
sister, were indeed a perilous and fatal breach in our band;
but I am firm in my belief that another will arise in the
place of him so untimely removed. Where is thy daughter
Catherine?"
"In the parlour," answered the matron, "but" She
looked at Roland Græme, and muttered something in the ear
of her friend.
"Fear it not," answered Magdalen Græme, "it is both law-
ful and necessary; fear nothing from him: I would he were
as well grounded in the faith by which alone comes safety as
he is free from thought, deed, or speech of villainy. Therein
is the heretic's discipline to be commended, my sister, that
they train up their youth in strong morality, and choke up
every inlet to youthful folly."
THE ABBOT.
111
"It is but a cleansing of the outside of the cup," answered
her friend" a whitening of the sepulchre; but he shall see
Catherine, since you, sister, judge it safe and meet. Follow
us, youth," she added, and led the way from the apartment
with her friend. These were the only words which the matron
had addressed to Roland Græme, who obeyed them in silence.
As they paced through several winding passages and waste
apartments with a very slow step, the young page had leisure
to make some reflections on his situation-reflections of a na-
ture which his ardent temper considered as specially disagree-
able. It seemed he had now got two mistresses, or tutoresses,
instead of one, both elderly women, and both, it would seem, in
league to direct his motions according to their own pleasure,
and for the accomplishment of plans to which he was no party.
This, he thought, was too much; arguing, reasonably enough,
that whatever right his grandmother and benefactress had to
guide his motions, she was neither entitled to transfer her
authority or to divide it with another, who seemed to assume,
without ceremony, the same tone of absolute command over
him.
،،
'But it shall not long continue thus," thought Roland; "I
will not be all my life the slave of a woman's whistle, to go
when she bids, and come when she calls. No, by St. Andrew!
the hand that can hold the lance is above the control of the
distaff. I will leave them the slipped collar in their hands on
the first opportunity, and let them execute their own devices
by their own proper force. It may save them both from peril,
for I guess what they meditate is not likely to prove either safe
or easy: the Earl of Murray and his heresy are too well rooted
to be grubbed up by two old women.
As he thus resolved, they entered a low room, in which a
third female was seated. This apartment was the first he had
observed in the mansion which was furnished with movable
seats, and with a wooden table, over which was laid a piece
of tapestry. A carpet was spread on the floor, there was a
grate in the chimney, and, in brief, the apartment had the air
of being habitable and inhabited.
But Roland's eyes found better employment than to make
""
ì
112
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
observations on the accommodations of the chamber; for this
second female inhabitant of the mansion seemed something
very different from anything he had yet seen there. At his
first entry she had greeted with a silent and low obeisance the
two aged matrons, then glancing her eyes towards Roland, she
adjusted a veil which hung back over her shoulders so as to
bring it over her face-an operation which she performed with
much modesty, but without either affected haste or embarrassed
timidity.
During this manœuvre, Roland had time to observe that the
face was that of a girl apparently not much past sixteen, and
that the eyes were at once soft and brilliant. To these very
favourable observations was added the certainty that the fair
object to whom they referred possessed an excellent shape, bor-
dering perhaps on embonpoint, and therefore rather that of a
Hebe than of a sylph, but beautifully formed, and shown to
great advantage by the close jacket and petticoat which she
wore after a foreign fashion, the last not quite long enough
absolutely to conceal a very pretty foot, which rested on a
bar of the table at which she sate; her round arms and taper
fingers very busily employed in repairing the piece of tapestry
which was spread on it, which exhibited several deplorable
fissures, enough to demand the utmost skill of the most expert
seamstress.
It is to be remarked, that it was by stolen glances that
Roland Græme contrived to ascertain these interesting par-
ticulars; and he thought he could once or twice, notwith-
standing the texture of the veil, detect the damsel in the act of
taking similar cognizance of his own person. The matrons in
the mean while continued their separate conversation, eyeing
from time to time the young people, in a manner which left
Roland in no doubt that they were the subject of their con-
versation. At length he distinctly heard Magdalen Græme
say these words: "Nay, my sister, we must give them op-
portunity to speak together, and to become acquainted; they
must be personally known to each other, or how shall they be
able to execute what they are entrusted with?”
It seemed as if the matron, not fully satisfied with her
THE ABBOT.
113
friend's reasoning, continued to offer some objections; but
they were borne down by her more dictatorial friend.
"It must be so," she said, "my dear sister; let us therefore
go forth on the balcony to finish our conversation. And do
you,” she added, addressing Roland and the girl, "become
acquainted with each other.”
With this she stepped up to the young woman, and raising
her veil, discovered features which, whatever might be their
ordinary complexion, were now covered with a universal blush.
"Licitum sit," said Magdalen, looking at the other matron.
"Vix licitum,” replied the other, with reluctant and hesi-
tating acquiescence; and again adjusting the veil of the blush-
ing girl, she dropped it so as to shade, though not to conceal, her
countenance, and whispered to her, in a tone loud enough for
the page to hear: "Remember, Catherine, who thou art, and
for what destined."
The matron then retreated with Magdalen Græme through
one of the casements of the apartment, that opened on a large
broad balcony, which, with its ponderous balustrade, had once
run along the whole south front of the building which faced
the brook, and formed a pleasant and commodious walk in the
open air.
It was now in some places deprived of the balus.
trade, in others broken and narrowed; but, ruinous as it was,
could still be used as a pleasant promenade. Here then walked
the two ancient dames, busied in their private conversation;
yet not so much so but that Roland could observe the matrons,
as their thin forms darkened the casement in passing or repass·
ing before it, dart a glance into the apartment, to see how
matters were going on there.
8
:
114
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
CHAPTER XI.
Life hath its May, and it is mirthful then:
The woods are vocal, and the flowers all odour;
Its very blast has mirth in't--and the maidens,
The while they don their cloaks to skreen their kirtles,
Laugh at the rain that wets them.
Old Play.
CATHERINE was at the happy age of innocence and buoyancy
of spirit when, after the first moment of embarrassment was
over, a situation of awkwardness like that in which she was
suddenly left to make acquaintance with a handsome youth,
not even known to her by name, struck her, in spite of her-
self, in a ludicrous point of view. She bent her beautiful
eyes upon the work with which she was busied, and with in-
finite gravity sate out the two first turns of the matrons upon
the balcony; but then glancing her deep blue eye a little tow-
ards Roland, and observing the embarrassment under which
he laboured, now shifting on his chair, and now dangling his
cap, the whole man evincing that he was perfectly at a loss
how to open the conversation, she could keep her composure
no longer, but, after a vain struggle, broke out into a sincere,
though a very involuntary, fit of laughing, so richly accom-
panied by the laughter of her merry eyes, which actually
glanced through the tears which the effort filled them with,
and by the waving of her rich tresses, that the goddess of
smiles herself never looked more lovely than Catherine at that
moment. A court page would not have left her long alone in
her mirth; but Roland was country-bred, and, besides, having
some jealousy, as well as bashfulness, he took it into his head
that he was himself the object of her inextinguishable laugh-
His endeavours to sympathise with Catherine, there-
fore, could carry him no farther than a forced giggle, which
had more of displeasure than of mirth in it, and which so
much enhanced that of the girl that it seemed to render it
impossible for her ever to bring her laughter to an end, with
whatever anxious pains she laboured to do so. For every one
ter.
THE ABBOT.
115
has felt that when a paroxysm of laughter has seized him, at
a misbecoming time and place, the efforts which he makes to
suppress it, nay, the very sense of the impropriety of giving
way to it, tend only to augment and prolong the irresistible
impulse.
It was undoubtedly lucky for Catherine, as well as for Ro-
land, that the latter did not share in the excessive mirth of
the former. For seated as she was, with her back to the
casement, Catherine could easily escape the observation of the
two matrons during the course of their promenade; whereas
Græme was so placed, with his side to the window, that his
mirth, had he shared that of his companion, would have been
instantly visible, and could not have failed to give offence to
the personages in question. He sate, however, with some
impatience, until Catherine had exhausted either her power
or her desire of laughing, and was returning with good grace
to the exercise of her needle, and then he observed with some
dryness, that "There seemed no great occasion to recommend
to them to improve their acquaintance, as it seemed that they
were already tolerably familiar."
Catherine had an extreme desire to set off upon a fresh
score, but she repressed it strongly, and fixing her eyes on
her work, replied by asking his pardon, and promising to
avoid future offence.
Roland had sense enough to feel that an air of offended dig-
nity was very much misplaced, and that it was with a very dif-
ferent bearing he ought to meet the deep blue eyes which had
borne such a hearty burden in the laughing scene. He tried,
therefore, to extricate himself as well as he could from his
blunder, by assuming a tone of corresponding gaiety, and re-
questing to know of the nymph, "How it was her pleasure
that they should proceed in improving the acquaintance which
had commenced so merrily."
"That," she said, "you must yourself discover; perhaps I
have gone a step too far in opening our interview."
"Suppose," said Roland Græme, "we should begin as in a
tale-book, by asking each other's names and histories."
"It is right well imagined," said Catherine, "and shows an
116
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
argute judgment. Do you begin, and I will listen, and only
put in a question or two at the dark parts of the story. Come,
unfold then your name and history, my new acquaintance."
"I am called Roland Græme, and that tall old woman is my
grandmother."
And your tutoress? Good. Who are your parents?"
"They are both dead,” replied Roland.
"Ay, but who were they? You had parents, I presume?"
"I suppose so," said Roland, "but I have never been able
to learn much of their history. My father was a Scottish
knight, who died gallantly in his stirrups; my mother was a
Græme of Heathergill in the Debateable Land; most of her
family were killed when the Debateable country was burned
by the Lord Maxwell and Herries of Caerlaverock.”
"Is it long ago?" said the damsel.
"Before I was born," answered the page.
“That must be a great while since," said she, shaking her
head gravely; "look you, I cannot weep for them.'
"It needs not," said the youth, "they fell with honour."
"So much for your lineage, fair sir," replied his companion,
"of whom I like the living specimen (a glance at the case-
ment) far less than those that are dead. Your much honoured
grandmother looks as if she could make one weep in sad ear-
nest. And now, fair sir, for your own person; if you tell not
the tale faster, it will be cut short in the middle: Mother
Bridget pauses longer and longer every time she passes the
window, and with her there is as little mirth as in the grave
of your ancestors.”
"My tale is soon told. I was introduced into the Castle of
Avenel to be page to the lady of the mansion.”
She is a strict Huguenot, is she not?" said the maiden.
"As strict as Calvin himself. But my grandmother can
play the Puritan when it suits her purpose, and she had some
plan of her own for quartering me in the castle; it would have
failed, however, after we had remained several weeks at the
hamlet, but for an unexpected master of ceremonies"
"And who was that?" said the girl.
.66
'A large black dog, Wolf by name, who brought me into
63
""
1
-
THE ABBOT.
117
the castle one day in his mouth like a hurt wild duck, and
presented me to the lady."
"A most respectable introduction, truly," said Catherine;
"and what might you learn at this same castle? I love dearly
to know what my acquaintances can do at need.'
""
"To fly a hawk, halloo to a hound, back a horse, and wield
lance, bow, and brand.”
"And to boast of all this when you have learned it," said
Catherine, "which, in France at least, is the surest accom-
plishment of a page.
But proceed, fair sir; how came your
Huguenot lord, and your no less Huguenot lady to receive and
keep in the family so perilous a person as a Catholic page?”
"Because they knew not that part of my history, which
from infancy I had been taught to keep secret; and because
my grand-dame's former zealous attendance on their heretic
chaplain had laid all this suspicion to sleep, most fair Calipo-
lis," said the page, and in so saying he edged his chair towards
the seat of the fair querist.
"Nay, but keep your distance, most gallant sir," answered
the blue-eyed maiden, "for, unless I greatly mistake, these
reverend ladies will soon interrupt our amicable conference if
the acquaintance they recommend shall seem to proceed beyond
a certain point; so, fair sir, be pleased to abide by your sta-
tion, and reply to my questions. By what achievements did
you prove the qualities of a page, which you had thus happily
acquired?"
Roland, who began to enter into the tone and spirit of the
damsel's conversation, replied to her with becoming spirit.
"In no feat, fair gentlewoman, was I found inexpert, where-
in there was mischief implied. I shot swans, hunted cats,
frightened serving-women, chased the deer, and robbed the
orchard. I say nothing of tormenting the chaplain in various
ways, for that was my duty as a good Catholic."
"Now, as I am a gentlewoman," said Catherine, "I think
these heretics have done Catholic penance in entertaining so
all-accomplished a serving-man! And what, fair sir, might
have been the unhappy event which deprived them of an in-
mate altogether so estimable?"
118
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Truly, fair gentlewoman," answered the youth, "your real
proverb says that the longest lane will have a turning, and
mine was more—it was, in fine, a turning off.”
"Good!" said the merry young maiden, "it is an apt play
on the word. And what occasion was taken for so important
a catastrophe? Nay, start not for my learning, I do know
the schools-in plain phrase, why were you sent from ser-
vice?"
The page shrugged his shoulders while he replied: "A short
tale is soon told, and a short horse soon curried. I made the
falconer's boy taste of my switch; the falconer threatened to
make me brook his cudgel. He is a kindly clown as well as
a stout, and I would rather have been cudgelled by him than
any man in Christendom to choose; but I knew not his quali-
ties at that time, so I threatened to make him brook the stab,
and my lady made me brook the 'Begone'; so adieu to the
page's office and the fair Castle of Avenel. I had not trav-
elled far before I met my venerable parent. And so tell your
tale, fair gentlewoman, for mine is done."
"A happy grandmother," said the maiden, "who had the
luck to find the stray page just when his mistress had slipped
his leash, and a most lucky page that has jumped at once from
a page to an old lady's gentleman-usher!"
"All this is nothing of your history," answered Roland
Græme, who began to be much interested in the congenial vi-
vacity of this facetious young gentlewoman-"tale for tale is
fellow-travellers' justice."
"Wait till we are fellow-travellers, then," replied Cath-
erine.
"Nay, you escape me not so," said the page;
"if you deal
not justly by me, I will call out to Dame Bridget, or what-
ever your dame be called, and proclaim you for a cheat."
66 'You shall not need," answered the maiden. "My history
is the counterpart of your own; the same words might almost
serve, change but dress and name. I am called Catherine
Seyton, and I also am an orphan."
"Have your parents been long dead?"
"That is the only question," said she, throwing down her
{
THE ABBOT.
119
fine eyes with a sudden expression of sorrow" that is the
only question I cannot laugh at."
"And Dame Bridget is your grandmother?”
The sudden cloud passed away like that which crosses for
an instant the summer sun, and she answered, with her usual
lively expression: "Worse by twenty degrees-Dame Bridget
is my maiden aunt."
"Over God's forebode!" said Roland.
"Alas! that you
have such a tale to tell! And what horror comes next?"
"Your own history, exactly. I was taken upon trial for
service_—_99
66
And turned off for pinching the duenna or affronting my
lady's waiting-woman?”
"Our
"Nay, our history varies there," said the damsel.
mistress broke up house, or had her house broke up, which is
the same thing, and I am a free woman of the forest."
"And I am as glad of it as if any one had lined my doublet
with cloth of gold," said the youth.
"I thank you for your mirth," said she, "but the matter
is not likely to concern you.
""
"Nay, but go on," said the page, "for you will be presently
interrupted; the two good dames have been soaring yonder on
the balcony, like two old hooded cows, and their croak grows
hoarser as night comes on; they will wing to roost presently.
This mistress of yours, fair gentlewoman, who was she, in
God's name?"
"Oh, she has a fair name in the world," replied Catherine
Seyton. "Few ladies kept a fairer house, or held more
gentlewomen in her household; my aunt Bridget was one
of her housekeepers. We never saw our mistress's blessed
face, to be sure, but we heard enough of her; were up early
and down late, and were kept to long prayers and light
food."
"Out upon the penurious old beldam!" said the page.
"For Heaven's sake, blaspheme not!" said the girl, with
an expression of fear. God pardon us both! I meant no
harm. I speak of our blessed St. Catherine of Sienna!-may
God forgive me that I spoke so lightly, and made you do a
1
120
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
great sin and a great blasphemy! This was her nunnery, in
which there were twelve nuns and an abbess. My aunt was
the abbess, till the heretics turned all adrift."
"And where are your companions?" asked the youth.
"With the last year's snow," answered the maiden-"east,
north, south, and west: some to France, some to Flanders,
some, I fear, into the world and its pleasures. We have got
permission to remain, or rather our remaining has been con-
nived at, for my aunt has great relations among the Kerrs, and
they have threatened a death-feud if any one touches us; and
bow and spear are the best warrants in these times."
"Nay, then you sit under a sure shadow," said the youth;
"and I suppose you wept yourself blind when St. Catherine
broke up housekeeping before you had taken arles in her
service?"
·
"Hush! for Heaven's sake," said the damsel, crossing her-
self, "no more of that! But I have not quite cried my eyes
out," said she, turning them upon him, and instantly again
bending them upon her work. It was one of those glances
which would require the threefold plate of brass around the
heart, more than it is needed by the mariners to whom Horace
recommends it. Our youthful page had no defence whatever
to offer.
"What say you, Catherine," he said, "if we two, thus
strangely turned out of service at the same time, should give
our two most venerable duennas the torch to hold, while we
walk a merry measure with each other over the floor of this
weary world?”
"A goodly proposal, truly," said Catherine, "and worthy
the madcap brain of a discarded page! And what shifts
does your worship propose we should live by?—by singing
ballads, cutting purses, or swaggering on the highway? for
there, I think, you would find your most productive ex-
chequer."
"Choose, you proud peat!" said the page, drawing off in
huge disdain at the calm and unembarrassed ridicule with
which his wild proposal was received. And as he spoke the
words, the casement was again darkened by the forms of the
THE ABBOT.
121
matrons; it opened, and admitted Magdalen Græme and
the mother abbess, so we must now style her, into the apart-
ment.
CHAPTER XII.
Nay, hear me, brother; I am elder, wiser,
And holier than thou. And age, and wisdom,
And holiness, have peremptory claims,
And will be listen'd to.
Old Play.
WHEN the matrons re-entered, and put an end to the con-
versation which we have detailed in the last chapter, Dame
Magdalen Græme thus addressed her grandson and his pretty
companion: "Have you spoke together, my children? Have
you become known to each other as fellow-travellers on the
same dark and dubious road, whom chance hath brought to-
gether, and who study to learn the tempers and dispositions
of those by whom their perils are to be shared?"
It was seldom the light-hearted Catherine could suppress a
jest, so that she often spoke when she would have acted more
wisely in holding her peace.
"Your grandson admires the journey which you propose so
very greatly that he was even now preparing for setting out
upon it instantly."
"This is to be too forward, Roland," said the dame, ad-
dressing him, "as yesterday you were over slack; the just
mean lies in obedience, which both waits for the signal to
start and obeys it when given. But once again, my children,
have you so perused each other's countenances that, when you
meet, in whatever disguise the times may impose upon you,
you may recognise each in the other the secret agent of the
mighty work in which you are to be leagued? Look at each
other, know each line and lineament of each other's counte-
nance. Learn to distinguish by the step, by the sound of the
voice, by the motion of the hand, by the glance of the eye,
the partner whom Heaven hath sent to aid in working its will.
Wilt thou know that maiden, whensoever or wheresoever you
shall again meet her, my Roland Græme?"
122
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
As readily as truly did Roland answer in the affirmative.
"And thou, my daughter, wilt thou again remember the
features of this youth?"
"Truly, mother," replied Catherine Seyton, "I have not
seen so many men of late that I should immediately forget
your grandson, though I mark not much about him that is
deserving of special remembrance."
"Join hands, then, my children,” said Magdalen Græme;
but, in saying so, was interrupted by her companion, whose
conventual prejudices had been gradually giving her more
and more uneasiness, and who could remain acquiescent no
longer.
"Nay, my good sister, you forget," said she to Magdalen,
"Catherine is the betrothed bride of Heaven; these intimacies
cannot be."
"It is in the cause of Heaven that I commend them to em-
brace," said Magdalen, with the full force of her powerful
voice; "the end, sister, sanctifies the means we must use.”
"They call me lady abbess, or mother at the least, who ad-
dress me," said Dame Bridget, drawing herself up, as if of-
fended at her friend's authoritative manner; "the Lady of
Heathergill forgets that she speaks to the abbess of St.
Catherine."
"When I was what you call me," said Magdalen, "you in-
deed were the abbess of St. Catherine; but both names are now
gone, with all the rank that the world and that the church
gave to them; and we are now, to the eye of human judgment,
two poor, despised, oppressed women, dragging our dishon-
oured old age to a humble grave. But what are we in the eye
of Heaven? Ministers, sent forth to work His will, in whose
weakness the strength of the church shall be manifested, before
whom shall be humbled the wisdom of Murray and the dark
strength of Morton. And to such wouldst thou apply the nar-
row rules of thy cloistered seclusion? or hast thou forgotten
the order which I showed thee from thy superior, subjecting
thee to me in these matters?"
-
"On thy head, then, be the scandal and the sin,” said the
abbess, sullenly.
THE ABBOT.
123
"On mine be they both," said Magdalen. "I say, embrace
each other, my children."
But Catherine, aware, perhaps, how the dispute was likely
to terminate, had escaped from the apartment, and so disap-
pointed the grandson at least as much as the old matron.
"She is gone," said the abbess, "to provide some little re-
freshment. But it will have little savour to those who dwell
in the world; for I, at least, cannot dispense with the rules to
which I am vowed, because it is the will of wicked men to
break down the sanctuary in which they wont to be observed."
"It is well, my sister," replied Magdalen, "to pay each
even the smallest tithes of mint and cummin which the church
demands, and I blame not thy scrupulous observance of the
rules of thine order. But they were established by the church,
and for the church's benefit; and reason it is that they should
give way when the salvation of the church herself is at stake."
}
The abbess made no reply.
One more acquainted with human nature than the inexperi-
enced page might have found amusement in comparing the
different kinds of fanaticism which these two females exhib-
ited. The abbess, timid, narrow-minded, and discontented,
clung to ancient usages and pretensions which were ended by
the Reformation, and was in adversity, as she had been in
prosperity, scrupulous, weak-spirited, and bigoted; while the
fiery and more lofty spirit of her companion suggested a wider
field of effort, and would not be limited by ordinary rules
in the extraordinary schemes which were suggested by her
bold and irregular imagination. But Roland Græme, instead
of tracing these peculiarities of character in the two old dames,
only waited with great anxiety for the return of Catherine,
expecting probably that the proposal of the fraternal embrace
would be renewed, as his grandmother seemed disposed to
carry matters with a high hand.
His expectations, or hopes, if we may call them so, were,
however, disappointed; for, when Catherine re-entered on the
summons of the abbess, and placed on the table an earthen
pitcher of water, and four wooden platters, with cups of the
same materials, the Dame of Heathergill, satisfied with the
124
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
arbitrary mode in which she had borne down the opposition
of the abbess, pursued her victory no farther a moderation
for which her grandson, in his heart, returned her but slender
thanks.
In the mean while, Catherine continued to place upon the
table the slender preparations for the meal of a recluse, which
consisted almost entirely of colewort, boiled, and served up
in a wooden platter, having no better seasoning than a little
salt, and no better accompaniment than some coarse barley-
bread in very moderate quantity. The water-pitcher already
mentioned furnished the only beverage. After a Latin grace,
delivered by the abbess, the guests sat down to their spare
entertainment. The simplicity of the fare appeared to pro-
duce no distaste in the females, who ate of it moderately, but
with the usual appearance of appetite. But Roland Græme
had been used to better cheer. Sir Halbert Glendinning, who
affected even an unusual degree of nobleness in his house-
keeping, maintained it in a style of genial hospitality which
rivalled that of the northern barons of England. He might
think, perhaps, that by doing so he acted yet more completely
the part for which he was born-that of a great baron and a
leader. Two bullocks and six sheep weekly were the allow-
ance when the baron was at home, and the number was not
greatly diminished during his absence. A boll of malt was
weekly brewed into ale, which was used by the household at
discretion. Bread was baked in proportion for the consump-
tion of his domestics and retainers; and in this scene of plenty
had Roland Græme now lived for several years. It formed a
bad introduction to lukewarm greens and spring water; and
probably his countenance indicated some sense of the differ-
ence, for the abbess observed: "It would seem, my son, that
the tables of the heretic baron, whom you have so long fol-
lowed, are more daintily furnished than those of the suffering
daughters of the church; and yet, not upon the most solemn
nights of festival, when the nuns were permitted to eat their
portion at mine own table, did I consider the cates which
were then served up as half so delicious as these vegetables
and this water, on which I prefer to feed, rather than do
:
A
THE ABBOT.
125
It
aught which may derogate from the strictness of my vow.
shall never be said that the mistress of this house made it a
house of feasting when days of darkness and of affliction were
hanging over the Holy Church, of which I am an unworthy
member."
“Well hast thou said, my sister,” replied Magdalen Græme;
“but now it is not only time to suffer in the good cause, but
to act in it. And since our pilgrim's meal is finished, let us
go apart to prepare for our journey of to-morrow, and to ad-
vise on the manner in which these children shall be employed,
and what measures we can adopt to supply their thoughtless-
ness and lack of discretion."
Notwithstanding his indifferent cheer, the heart of Roland
Græme bounded high at this proposal, which he doubted not
would lead to another tête-à-tête betwixt him and the pretty
novice. But he was mistaken. Catherine, it would seem,
had no mind so far to indulge him; for, moved either by deli-
cacy or caprice, or some of those indescribable shades betwixt
the one and the other with which women love to teaze, and at
the same time to captivate, the ruder sex, she reminded the
abbess that it was necessary she should retire for an hour
before vespers; and, receiving the ready and approving nod
of her superior, she arose to withdraw. But, before leaving
the apartment, she made obeisance to the matrons, bending
herself till her hands touched her knees, and then made a
lesser reverence to Roland, which consisted in a slight bend
of the body and gentle depression of the head. This she per-
formed very demurely; but the party on whom the salutation
was conferred though he could discern in her manner an arch
and mischievous exultation over his secret disappointment.
"The devil take the saucy girl," he thought in his heart,
though the presence of the abbess should have repressed all
such profane imaginations, "she is as hard-hearted as the
laughing hyæna that the story-books tell of: she has a mind
that I shall not forget her this night at least.”
The matrons now retired also, giving the page to under-
stand that he was on no account to stir from the convent, or
to show himself at the windows, the abbess assigning as a
126
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
¡
reason the readiness with which the rude heretics caught at
every occasion of scandalising the religious orders.
“This is worse than the rigour of Mr. Henry Warden him-
self," said the page, when he was left alone; "for, to do him
justice, however strict in requiring the most rigid attention
during the time of his homilies, he left us to the freedom of
our own wills afterwards; ay, and would take a share in our
pastimes, too, if he thought them entirely innocent. But
these old women are utterly wrapt up in gloom, mystery, and
self-denial. Well, then, if I must neither stir out of the gate
nor look out at the window, I will at least see what the inside
of the house contains that may help to pass away one's time;
peradventure I may light on that blue-eyed laugher in some
corner or other."
Going, therefore, out of the chamber by the entrance oppo-
site to that through which the two matrons had departed (for
it may be readily supposed that he had no desire to intrude
on their privacy), he wandered from one chamber to another,
through the deserted edifice, seeking with boyish eagerness
some source of interest or amusement. Here he passed through
a long gallery, opening on either hand into the little cells of
the nuns, all deserted, and deprived of the few trifling articles
of furniture which the rules of the order admitted.
66
The birds are flown," thought the page; "but whether
they will find themselves worse off in the open air than in
these damp narrow cages, I leave my lady abbess and my ven-
erable relative to settle betwixt them. I think the wild young
lark whom they have left behind them would like to best sing
under God's free sky."
A winding stair, strait and narrow, as if to remind the nuns
of their duties of fast and maceration, led down to a lower suite
of apartments, which occupied the ground story of the house.
These rooms were even more ruinous than those which he had
left; for, having encountered the first fury of the assailants
by whom the nunnery had been wasted, the windows had been
dashed in, the doors broken down, and even the partitions be-
twixt the apartments in some places destroyed. As he thus
stalked from desolation to desolation, and began to think of
THE ABBOT.
127
returning from so uninteresting a research to the chamber
which he had left, he was surprised to hear the low of a cow
very close to him.
The sound was so unexpected at the time
and place that Roland Græme started as if it had been the
voice of a lion, and laid his hand on his dagger, while at the
same moment the light and lovely form of Catherine Seyton
presented itself at the door of the apartment from which the
sound had issued.
"Good even to you, valiant champion!" said she; "since
the days of Guy of Warwick, never was one more worthy to
encounter a dun cow.
""
"Cow!" said Roland Græme, "by my faith, I thought it
had been the devil that roared so near me. Who ever heard
of a convent containing a cow-house?"
"Cow and calf may come hither now," answered Catherine,
“for we have no means to keep out either. But I advise you,
kind sir, to return to the place from whence you came."
"Not till I see your charge, fair sister," answered Roland,
and made his way into the apartment, in spite of the half-
serious, half-laughing remonstrances of the girl.
The poor solitary cow, now the only severe recluse within
the nunnery, was quartered in a spacious chamber, which had
once been the refectory of the convent. The roof was graced
with groined arches, and the walls with niches, from which
the images had been pulled down. These remnants of archi-
tectural ornaments were strangely contrasted with the rude
crib constructed for the cow in one corner of the apartment,
and the stack of fodder which was piled beside it for her
food.¹
"By my faith," said the page, "Crombie is more lordly
lodged than any one here!"
"You had best remain with her," said Catherine, "and
supply by your filial attentions the offspring she has had the
ill-luck to lose."
"I will remain, at least, to help you to prepare her night's
lair, pretty Catherine," said Roland, seizing upon a pitch-
fork.
1 ¹ See Nunnery of St. Bridget. Note 5.
128
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"By no means," said Catherine; "for, besides that you
know not in the least how to do her that service, you will
bring a chiding my way, and I get enough of that in the regu-
lar course of things."
"What! for accepting my assistance?" said the page-" for
accepting my assistance, who am to be your confederate in
some deep matter of import? That were altogether unreason-
able; and, now I think on it, tell me, if you can, what is this
mighty emprise to which I am destined?"
"Robbing a bird's nest, I should suppose," said Catherine,
considering the champion whom they have selected.”
"By my faith,"said the youth, "and he that has taken a
falcon's nest in the scaurs of Polmoodie has done something
to brag of, my fair sister. But that is all over now: a mur-
rain on the nest, and the eyases and their food, washed or
unwashed, for it was all anon of cramming these worthless
kites that I was sent upon my present travels. Save that I
have met with you, pretty sister, I could eat my dagger-hilt
for vexation at my own folly. But, as we are to be fellow-
travellers-
99
66
H
"Fellow-labourers, not fellow - travellers," answered the
girl; "for to your comfort be it known, that the lady abbess
and I set out earlier than you and your respected relative to-
morrow, and that I partly endure your company at present
because it may be long ere we meet again.”
"By St. Andrew, but it shall not, though," answered Ro-
land; "I will not hunt at all unless we are to hunt in
couples.
99
"I suspect, in that and in other points, we must do as we
are bid," replied the young lady. "But hark! I hear my
aunt's voice."
The old lady entered in good earnest, and darted a severe
glance at her niece, while Roland had the ready wit to busy
himself about the halter of the cow.
"The young gentleman," said Catherine, gravely, "is help-
ing me to tie the cow up faster to her stake, for I find that
last night, when she put her head out of window and lowed,
she alarmed the whole village; and we shall be suspected of
THE ABBOT.
129
sorcery among the heretics, if they do not discover the cause
of the apparition, or lose our cow if they do."
"Relieve yourself of that fear," said the abbess, somewhat
ironically; "the person to whom she is now sold comes for the
animal presently."
،،
Good-night, then, my poor companion," said Catherine,
passing the animal's shoulders; "I hope thou hast fallen into
kind hands, for my happiest hours of late have been spent
in tending thee. I would I had been born to no better
task."
"Now, out upon thee, mean-spirited wench!" said the ab-
bess; "is that a speech worthy of the name of Seyton, or of
the mouth of a sister of this house, treading the path of elec-
tion; and to be spoken before a stranger youth, too! Go to
my oratory, minion; there read your Hours till I come thither,
when I will read you such a lecture as shall make you prize
the blessings which you possess.
""
""
Catherine was about to withdrew in silence, casting a half-
sorrowful, half-comic glance at Roland Græme, which seemed
to say, "You see to what your untimely visit has exposed me,
when, suddenly changing her mind, she came forward to the
page, and extended her hand as she bid him good evening.
Their palms had pressed each other ere the astonished matron
could interfere, and Catherine had time to say, "Forgive me,
mother; it is long since we have seen a face that looked with
kindness on us. Since these disorders have broken up our
peaceful retreat all has been gloom and malignity. I bid this
youth kindly farewell, because he has come hither in kindness,
and because the odds are great that we may never again meet
in this world. I guess better than he that the schemes on
which you are rushing are too mighty for your management,
and that you are now setting the stone a-rolling which must
surely crush you in its descent. I bid farewell," she added,
"to my fellow-victim!"
This was spoken with a tone of deep and serious feeling,
altogether different from the usual levity of Catherine's man-
ner, and plainly showed that, beneath the giddiness of extreme
youth and total inexperience, there lurked in her bosom a deeper
9
130
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:
power of sense and feeling than her conduct had hitherto ex-
pressed.
The abbess remained a moment silent after she had left the
room.
The proposed rebuke died on her tongue, and she ap-
peared struck with the deep and foreboding tone in which her
niece had spoken her good even. She led the way in silence
to the apartment which they had formerly occupied, and
where there was prepared a small refection, as the abbess
termed it, consisting of milk and barley-bread. Magdalen
Græme, summoned to take share in this collation, appeared
from an adjoining apartment; but Catherine was seen no more.
There was little said during the hasty meal, and after it was
finished Roland Græme was dismissed to the nearest cell,
where some preparations had been made for his repose.
The strange circumstances in which he found himself had
their usual effect in preventing slumber from hastily descend-
ing on him, and he could distinctly hear, by a low but earnest
murmuring in the apartment which he had left, that the ma-
trons continued in deep consultation to a late hour.
As they
separated, he heard the abbess distinctly express herself thus:
"In a word, my sister, I venerate your character and the au-
thority with which my superiors have invested you; yet it
seems to me that, ere entering on this perilous course, we
should consult some of the fathers of the church."
W
100
And how and where are we to find a faithful bishop or
abbot at whom to ask counsel? The faithful Eustatius is no
more: he is withdrawn from a world of evil, and from the
tyranny of heretics. May Heaven and Our Lady assoilzie
him of his sins, and abridge the penance of his mortal infirmi-
ties! Where shall we find another with whom to take counsel?"
"Heaven will provide for the church," said the abbess; "and
the faithful fathers who yet are suffered to remain in the house
of Kennaquhair will proceed to elect an abbot. They will not
suffer the staff to fall down, or the mitre to be unfilled, for
the threats of heresy."
"That will I learn to-morrow," said Magdalen Græme; "yet
who now takes the office of an hour, save to partake with the
spoilers in their work of plunder? To-morrow will tell us if
THE ABBOT.
131
one of the thousand saints who are sprung from the house of
St. Mary's continues to look down on it in its misery. Fare-
well, my sister, we meet in Edinburgh."
"Benedicite!" answered the abbess, and they parted.
"To Kennaquhair and to Edinburgh we bend our way,"
thought Roland Græme. “That information have I pur-
chased by a sleepless hour: it suits well with my purpose.
At Kennaquhair I shall see Father Ambrose; at Edinburgh I
shall find the means of shaping my own course through this
bustling world, without burdening my affectionate relation; at
Edinburgh, too, I shall see again the witching novice, with
her blue eyes and her provoking smile." He fell asleep, and
it was to dream of Catherine Seyton.
CHAPTER XIII.
What, Dagon up again! I thought we had hurl'd him
Down on the threshold never more to rise.
Bring wedge and axe; and, neighbours, lend your hands,
And rive the idol into winter fagots!
Athelstane, or the Converted Dane.
ROLAND GRAME slept long and sound, and the sun was high
over the horizon when the voice of his companion summoned
him to resume their pilgrimage; and when, hastily arranging
his dress, he went to attend her call, the enthusiastic matron
stood already at the threshold, prepared for her journey.
There was in all the deportment of this remarkable woman a
promptitude of execution, and a sternness of perseverance,
founded on the fanaticism which she nursed so deeply, and
which seemed to absorb all the ordinary purposes and feelings
of mortality. One only human affection gleamed through her
enthusiastic energies, like the broken glimpses of the sun
through the rising clouds of a storm. It was her maternal
fondness for her grandson-a fondness carried almost to the
verge of dotage in circumstances where the Catholic religion
was not concerned, but which gave way instantly when it
chanced either to thwart or come in contact with the more
132
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
settled purpose of her soul, and the more devoted duty of her
life. Her life she would willingly have laid down to save the
earthly object of her affection; but that object itself she was
ready to hazard, and would have been willing to sacrifice, could
the restoration of the Church of Rome have been purchased with
his blood. Her discourse by the way, excepting on the few
occasions in which her extreme love of her grandson found
opportunity to display itself in anxiety for his health and
accommodation, turned entirely on the duty of raising up the
fallen honours of the church, and replacing a Catholic sovereign
on the throne. There were times at which she hinted, though
very obscurely and distinctly, that she herself was foredoomed
by Heaven to perform a part in this important task; and that
she had more than mere human warranty for the zeal with
which she engaged in it. But on this subject she expressed
herself in such general language that it was not easy to decide
whether she made any actual pretensions to a direct and super-
natural call, like the celebrated Elizabeth Barton, commonly
called the Nun of Kent;' or whether she only dwelt upon the
general duty which was incumbent on all Catholics of the time,
and the pressure of which she felt in an extraordinary degree.
Yet, though Magdalen Græme gave no direct intimation of
her pretensions to be considered as something beyond the ordi-
nary class of mortals, the demeanour of one or two persons
amongst the travellers whom they occasionally met, as they
entered the more fertile and populous part of the valley, seemed
to indicate their belief in her superior attributes. It is true
that two clowns, who drove before them a herd of cattle; one
or two village wenches, who seemed bound for some merry-
making; a strolling soldier, in a rusted morion; and a wan-
dering student, as his threadbare black cloak and his satchel
of books proclaimed him, passed our travellers without obser-
vation, or with a look of contempt; and, moreover, that two
or three children, attracted by the appearance of a dress so
nearly resembling that of a pilgrim, joined in hooting and call-
ing, Out upon the old mass-monger!" But one or two, who
nourished in their bosoms respect for the downfallen hierarchy,
¹ See Note 6.
•
THE ABBOT.
133
casting first a timorous glance around, to see that no one ob-
served them, hastily crossed themselves, bent their knee to
Sister Magdalen, by which name they saluted her, kissed her
hand, or even the hem of her dalmatique, received with hu-
mility the benedicite with which she repaid their obeisance;
and then starting up, and again looking timidly round to see
that they had been unobserved, hastily resumed their journey.
Even while within sight of persons of the prevailing faith,
there were individuals bold enough, by folding their arms and
bending their head, to give distant and silent intimation that
they recognised Sister Magdalen, and honoured alike her per-
son and her purpose.
She failed not to notice to her grandson these marks of
honour and respect which from time to time she received.
"You see," she said, "my son, that the enemies have been un-
able altogether to suppress the good spirit, or to root out the
true seed. Amid heretics and schismatics, spoilers of the
church's lands, and scoffers at saints and sacraments, there
is left a remnant."
"It is true, my mother," said Roland Græme; "but me-
thinks they are of a quality which can help us but little. See
you not all those who wear steel at their side, and bear marks
of better quality, ruffle past us as they would past the mean-
est beggars? for those who give us any marks of sympathy
are the poorest of the poor, and most outcast of the needy,
who have neither bread to share with us, nor swords to defend
us, nor skill to use them if they had. That poor wretch that
last kneeled to you with such deep devotion, and who seemed
emaciated by the touch of some wasting disease within, and
the grasp of poverty without-that pale, shivering, miserable
caitiff, how can he aid the great schemes you meditate?"
"Much, my son," said the matron, with more mildness than
the page perhaps expected. "When that pious son of the
church returns from the shrine of St. Ringan, whither he now
travels by my counsel, and by the aid of good Catholics-when
he returns healed of his wasting malady, high in health and
strong in limb, will not the glory of his faithfulness, and its
miraculous reward, speak louder in the ears of this besotted
134
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
poeple of Scotland than the din which is weekly made in a
thousand heretical pulpits?"
"Ay, but, mother, I fear
the saint's hand is out. It is
long since we have heard of a miracle performed at St. Rin-
gan's."
The matron made a dead pause, and, with a voice tremulous
with emotion, asked, "Art thou so unhappy as to doubt the
power of the blessed saint?”
"Nay, mother," the youth hastened to reply, "I believe as
the Holy Church commands, and doubt not St. Ringan's power
of healing; but, be it said with reverence, he hath not of late
showed the inclination.”
66
'And has this land deserved it?" said the Catholic matron,
advancing hastily while she spoke, until she attained the sum-
mit of a rising ground, over which the path led, and then
standing again still. "Here," she said, "stood the cross, the
limits of the halidome of St. Mary's-here, on this eminence,
from which the eye of the holy pilgrim might first catch a
view of that ancient monastery, the light of the land, the
abode of saints, and the grave of monarchs. Where is now
that emblem of our faith? It lies on the earth, a shapeless
block, from which the broken fragments have been carried off,
for the meanest uses, till now no semblance of its original form
remains. Look towards the east, my son, where the sum was
wont to glitter on stately spires, from which crosses and bells.
have now been hurled, as if the land had been invaded onçe
more by barbarous heathens-look at yonder battlements, of
which we can, even at this distance, descry the partial demoli-
tion; and ask if this land can expect from the blessed saints,
whose shrines and whose images have been profaned, any
other miracles but those of vengeance? How long," she ex-
claimed, looking upward-"how long shall it be delayed?"
She paused, and then resumed with enthusiastic rapidity:
"Yes, my son, all on earth is but for a period: joy and grief,
triumph and desolation, succeed each other like cloud and
sunshine; the vineyard shall not be for ever trodden down,
the gaps shall be amended, and the fruitful branches once
more dressed and trimmed. Even this day-ay, even this
THE ABBOT.
135
hour, I trust to hear news of importance. Daliy not-let us
on; time is brief, and judgment is certain."
She resumed the path which led to the abbey-a path which,
in ancient times, was carefully marked out by posts and rails,
to assist the pilgrim in his journey; these were now torn up
and destroyed. An half-hour's walk placed them in front of
the once splendid monastery, which, although the church was
as yet entire, had not escaped the fury of the times. The long
range of cells and of apartments for the use of the brethren,
which occupied two sides of the great square, were almost
entirely ruinous, the interior having been consumed by fire,
which only the massive architecture of the outward walls had
enabled them to resist. The abbot's house, which formed the
third side of the square, was, though injured, still inhabited,
and afforded refuge to the few brethren who yet, rather by
connivance than by actual authority, were permitted to remain
at Kennaquhair. Their stately offices, their pleasant gardens,
the magnificent cloisters constructed for their recreation, were
all dilapidated and ruinous; and some of the building materials
had apparently been put into requisition by persons in the vil-
lage and in the vicinity, who, formerly vassals of the monas-
tery, had not hesitated to appropriate to themselves a part of
the spoils. Roland saw fragments of Gothic pillars, richly
caved, occupying the place of door-posts to the meanest huts;
and here and there a mutilated statue, inverted or laid on its
side, made the door-post or threshold of a wretched cow-house.
The church itself was less injured than the other buildings of
the monastery. But the images which had been placed in the
numerous niches of its columns and buttresses, having all fallen
under the charge of idolatry, to which the superstitious devo-
tion of the Papists had justly exposed them, had been broken
and thrown down, without much regard to the preservation of
the rich and airy canopies and pedestals on which they were
placed; nor, if the devastation had stopped short at this point,
could we have considered the preservation of these monuments
of antiquity as an object to be put in the balance with the in-
troduction of the Reformed worship.
Our pilgrims saw the demolition of these sacred and vener-
I
136
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
able representations of saints and angels-for as sacred and
venerable they had been taught to consider them-with very
different feelings. The antiquary may be permitted to regret
the necessity of the action, but to Magdalen Græme it seemed
a deed of impiety, deserving the instant vengeance of Heaven-
a sentiment in which her relative joined for the moment as
cordially as herself. Neither, however, gave vent to their
feelings in words, and uplifted hands and eyes formed their
only mode of expressing them. The page was about to ap-
proach the great eastern gate of the church, but was prevented
by his guide. "That gate," she said, "has long been block-
aded, that the heretical rabble may not know there still exist
among the brethren of St. Mary's men who dare worship
where their predecessors prayed while alive, and were interred
when dead; follow me this way, my son."
Roland Græme followed accordingly; and Magdalen, casting
a hasty glance to see whether they were observed (for she had
learned caution from the danger of the times), commanded her
grandson to knock at a little wicket which she pointed out to
him. "But knock gently," she added, with a motion expres
sive of caution. After a little space, during which no answer
was returned, she signed to Roland to repeat his summons fox
admission; and the door at length partially opening, discovered
a glimpse of the thin and timid porter, by whom the duty was
performed, skulking from the observation of those who stood
without, but endeavouring at the same time to gain a sight of
them without being himself seen. How different from the
proud consciousness of dignity with which the porter of an-
cient days offered his important brow and his goodly person
to the pilgrims who repaired to Kennaquhair! His solemn
"Intrate, mei filii," was exchanged for a tremulous, "You can-
not enter now: the brethren are in their chambers. But when
Magdalen Græme asked, in an under tone of voice, “Hast thou
forgotten me, my brother?" he changed his apologetic refusal
to "Enter, my honoured sister-enter speedily, for evil eyes
are upon us.
,,
22
They entered accordingly, and having waited until the por-
ter had, with jealous haste, barred and bolted the wicket, were
THE ABBOT.
137
conducted by him through several dark and winding passages.
As they walked slowly on, he spoke to the matron in a subdued
voice, as if he feared to trust the very walls with the avowal
which he communicated.
"Our fathers are assembled in the chapter-house, worthy
sister-yes, in the chapter-house-for the election of an abbot.
Ah, benedicite! there must be no ringing of bells-no high
mass-no opening of the great gates now, that the people
might see and venerate their spiritual father! Our fathers
must hide themselves rather like robbers who choose a leader
than godly priests who elect a mitred abbot."
"Regard not that, my brother," answered Magdalen Græme;
"the first successors of St. Peter himself were elected, not in
sunshine, but in tempests; not in the halls of the Vatican,
but in the subterranean vaults and dungeons of heathen Rome;
they were not gratulated with shouts and salvos of cannon-
shot and of musketry, and the display of artificial fire—no, my
brother, but by the hoarse summons of lictors and prætors, who
came to drag the fathers of the church to martyrdom. From
such adversity was the church once raised, and by such will
it now be purified. And mark me, brother! not in the proud-
est days of the mitred abbey was a superior ever chosen whom
his office shall so much honour as he shall be honoured who
now takes it upon him in these days of tribulation. On whom,
my brother, will the choice fall?”
"On whom can it fall—or alas! who would dare to reply to
the call-save the worthy pupil of the sainted Eustatius, the
good and valiant Father Ambrose?”
"I know it," said Magdalen; "my heart told me, long ere
your lips had uttered his name. Stand forth, courageous
champion, and man the fatal breach! Rise, bold and experi-
enced pilot, and seize the helm while the tempest rages! Turn
back the battle, brave raiser of the fallen standard! Wield
crook and sling, noble shepherd of a scattered flock.”
"I pray you, hush, my sister!" said the porter, opening a
door which led into the great church, "the brethren will be
presently here to celebrate their election with a solemn mass;
I must marshal them the way to the high altar; all the offices
138
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
of this venerable house have now devolved on one poor do-
crepit old man."
He left the church, and Magdalen and Roland remained
alone in that great vaulted space, whose style of rich yet
chaste architecture referred its origin to the early part of the
14th century, the best period of Gothic building. But the
niches were stripped of their images in the inside as well as
the outside of the church; and in the pell-mell havoc the
tombs of warriors and of princes had been included in the
demolition of the idolatrous shrines. Lances and swords of
antique size, which had hung over the tombs of mighty war-
riors of former days, lay now strewed among relics with which
the devotion of pilgrims had graced those of their peculiar
saints; and the fragments of the knights and dames, which
had once lain recumbent, or kneeled in an attitude of devo-
tion, where their mortal relics were reposed, were mingled
with those of the saints and angels of the Gothic chisel,
which the hand of violence had sent headlong from their
stations.
The most fatal symptom of the whole appeared to be that,
though this violence had now been committed for many
months, the fathers had lost so totally all heart and resolution
that they had not adventured even upon clearing away the rub-
bish, or restoring the church to some decent degree of order.
This might have been done without much labour. But terror
had overpowered the scanty remains of a body once so power-
ful, and, sensible they were only suffered to remain in this
ancient seat by connivance and from compassion, they did not
venture upon taking any step which might be construed into
an assertion of their ancient rights, contenting themselves
with the secret and obscure exercise of their religious cere-
monial, in as unostentatious a manner as was possible.
Two or three of the more aged brethren had sunk under the
pressure of the times, and the ruins had been partly cleared
away to permit their interment. One stone had been laid
over Father Nicolas, which recorded of him in special that he
had taken the vows during the incumbency of Abbot Ingelram,
the period to which his memory so frequently recurred. An-
THE ABBOT.
139
other flagstone, yet more recently deposited, covered the body
of Philip the sacristan, eminent for his aquatic excursion with
the phantom of Avenel; and a third, the most recent of all,
bore the outline of a mitre, and the words Hic jacet Eustatius
Abbas; for no one dared to add a word of commendation in
favour of his learning and strenuous zeal for the Roman
Catholic faith.
Magdalen Græme looked at and perused the brief records of
these monuments successively, and paused over that of Father
Eustace. "In a good hour for thyself," she said, "but oh! in
an evil hour for the church, wert thou called from us. Let
thy spirit be with us, holy man; encourage thy successor to
tread in thy footsteps; give him thy bold and inventive ca-
pacity, thy zeal, and thy discretion; even thy piety exceeds not
his."
As she spoke, a side door, which closed a passage from
the abbot's house into the church, was thrown open, that the
fathers might enter the choir, and conduct to the high altar
the superior whom they had elected.
In former times, this was one of the most splendid of the
many pageants which the hierarchy of Rome had devised to
attract the veneration of the faithful. The period during
which the abbacy remained vacant was a state of mourning,
or, as their emblematical phrase expressed it, of widowhood—
a melancholy term, which was changed into rejoicing and tri-
umph when a new superior was chosen. When the folding
doors were on such solemn occasions thrown open, and the
new abbot appeared on the threshold in full-blown dignity,
with ring and mitre, and dalmatique and crosier, his hoary
standard-bearers and his juvenile dispensers of incense pre-
ceding him, and the venerable train of monks behind him,
with all besides which could announce the supreme authority
to which he was now raised, his appearance was a signal for
the magnificent Jubilate to rise from the organ and music-loft,
and to be joined by the corresponding bursts of Alleluiah from
the whole assembled congregation. Now all was changed. In
the midst of rubbish and desolation, seven or eight old men,
bent and shaken, as much by grief and fear as by age,
shrouded hastily in the proscribed dress of their order, wan-
140
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
or
dered like a procession of spectres from the door which had
been thrown open, up through the encumbered passage to the
high altar, there to instal their elected superior a chief of
ruins. It was like a band of bewildered travellers choosing
a chief in the wilderness of Arabia; or a shipwrecked crew
electing a captain upon the barren island on which fate has
thrown them.
They who, in peaceful times, are most ambitious of author-
ity among others, shrink from the competition at such event-
ful periods, when neither ease nor parade attend the possession
of it, and when it gives only a painful pre-eminence both in
danger and in labour, and exposes the ill-fated chieftain to
the murmurs of his discontented associates, as well as to the
first assault of the common enemy. But he on whom the
office of the abbot of St. Mary's was now conferred had a
mind fitted for the situation to which he was called. Bold
and enthusiastic, yet generous and forgiving; wise and skilful,
yet zealous and prompt, he wanted but a better cause than the
support of a decaying superstition to have raised him to the
rank of a truly great man. But as the end crowns the work,
it also forms the rule by which it must be ultimately judged;
and those who, with sincerity and generosity, fight and fall
in an evil cause, posterity can only compassionate as victims
of a generous but fatal error. Amongst these we must rank
Ambrosius, the last abbot of Kennaquhair, whose designs
must be condemned, as their success would have riveted on
Scotland the chains of antiquated superstition and spiritual
tyranny; but whose talents commanded respect, and whose
virtues, even from the enemies of his faith, extorted esteem.
The bearing of the new abbot served of itself to dignify a
ceremonial which was deprived of all other attributes of
grandeur. Conscious of the peril in which they stood, and
recalling, doubtless, the better days they had seen, there hung
over his brethren an appearance of mingled terror, and grief,
and shame, which induced them to hurry over the office in
which they were engaged, as something at once degrading and
dangerous.
But not so Father Ambrose. His features, indeed, expressed
I
/
THE ABBOT.
141
a deep melancholy, as he walked up the centre aisle, amid the
ruin of things which he considered as holy, but his brow was
undejected, and his step firm and solemn. He seemed to
think that the dominion which he was about to receive de-
pended in no sort upon the external circumstances under
which it was conferred; and if a mind so firm was acces-
sible to sorrow or fear, it was not on his own account, but on
that of the church to which he had devoted himself.
At length he stood on the broken steps of the high altar,
barefooted, as was the rule, and holding in his hand his pas-
toral staff, for the gemmed ring and jewelled mitre had become
secular spoils. No obedient vassals came, man after man, to
make their homage and to offer the tribute which should pro-
vide their spiritual superior with palfrey and trappings. No
bishop assisted at the solemnity, to receive into the higher
ranks of the church nobility a dignitary whose voice in the
legislature was as potential as his own. With hasty and
maimed rites, the few regaining brethren stepped forward
alternately to give their new abbot the kiss of peace, in token
of fraternal affection and spiritual homage. Mass was then
hastily performed, but in such precipitation as if it had been
hurried over rather to satisfy the scruples of a few youths,
who were impatient to set out on a hunting party,' than as if
it made the most solemn part of a solemn ordination. The
officiating priest faltered as he spoke the service, and often
looked around, as if he expected to be interrupted in the midst
of his office; and the brethren listened as to that which, short
as it was, they wished yet more abridged.
These symptoms of alarm increased as the ceremony pro-
ceeded, and, as it seemed, were not caused by mere apprehen-
sion alone; for, amid the pauses of the hymn, there were heard
without sounds of a very different sort, beginning faintly and
at a distance, but at length approaching close to the exterior
of the church, and stunning with dissonant clamour those en-
gaged in the service. The winding of horns, blown with no
regard to harmony or concert; the jangling of bells, the thump-
ing of drums, the squeaking of bagpipes, and the clash of
¹ See Hunting Mass. Note 7.
-
142
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
[
symbals; the shouts of a multitude, now as in laughter, now
as in anger; the shrill tones of female voices, and of those of
children, mingling with the deeper clamours of men, formed
a Babel of sounds, which first drowned, and then awed into
utter silence, the official hymns of the convent.
The cause
and result of this extraordinary interruption will be explained
in the next chapter.
1
"
CHAPTER XIV.
Not the wild billow, when it breaks its barrier,
Not the wild wind, escaping from its cavern,
Not the wild fiend, that mingles both together,
And pours their rage upon the ripening harvest,
Can match the wild freaks of this mirthful meeting-
Comic, yet fearful; droll, and yet destructive.
The Conspiracy.
THE monks ceased their song, which, like that of the chor-
isters in the legend of the Witch of Berkley, died away in a
quaver of consternation; and like a flock of chickens disturbed
by the presence of the kite, they at first made a movement to
disperse and fly in different directions, and then, with despair
rather than hope, huddled themselves around their new abbot;
who, retaining the lofty and undismayed look which had dig-
nified him through the whole ceremony, stood on the higher
step of the altar, as if desirous to be the most conspicuous
mark on which danger might discharge itself, and to save his
companions by his self-devotion, since he could afford them
no other protection.
Involuntarily, as it were, Magdalen Græme and the page
stepped from the station which hitherto they had occupied un-
noticed, and approached to the altar, as desirous of sharing
the fate which approached the monks, whatever that might
be. Both bowed reverently low to the abbot; and while Mag-
dalen seemed about to speak, the youth, looking towards the
main entrance, at which the noise now roared most loudly,
and which was at the same time assailed with much knocking,
laid his hand upon his dagger.
THE ABBOT.
143
The abbot motioned to both to forbear. "Peace, my sis-
ter,” he said, in a low tone, but which, being in a different
key from the tumultuary sounds without, could be distinctly
heard even amidst the tumult-"peace," he said, "my sis-
ter; let the new superior of St. Mary's himself receive and
reply to the grateful acclamations of the vassals who come
to celebrate his installation. And thou, my son, forbear, I
charge thee, to touch thy earthly weapon; if it is the pleasure
of our protectress that her shrine be this day desecrated by
deeds of violence, and polluted by blood-shedding, let it not,
I charge thee, happen through the deed of a Catholic son of
the church."
1
The noise and knocking at the outer gate became now every
moment louder, and voices were heard impatiently demanding
admittance. The abbot, with dignity, and with a step which
even the emergency of danger rendered neither faltering nor
precipitate, moved towards the portal, and demanded to know,
in a tone of authority, who it was that disturbed their wor-
ship, and what they desired.
There was a moment's silence, and then a loud laugh from
without. At length a voice replied: "We desire entrance into
the church; and when the door is opened you will soon see
who we are."
"By whose authority do you require entrance?" said the
father.
"By authority of the right reverend Lord Abbot of Unrea-
1
son,” replied the voice from without; and, from the laugh
which followed, it seemed as if there was something highly
ludicrous couched under this reply.
"I know not, and seek not to know, your meaning,” replied
the abbot, "since it is probably a rude one. But begone, in
the name of God, and leave His servants in peace. I speak
this as having lawful authority to command here."
"
'Open the door," said another rude voice, “and we will try
titles with you, sir monk, and show you a superior we must
all obey."
"Break open the doors if he dallies any longer," said a
¹ See Note 8.
144
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:
((
third, "and down with the carrion monks who would bar us of
our privilege!" A general shout followed. 'Ay, ay, our
privilege!—our privilege! Down with the doors, and with
the lurdane monks if they make opposition!"
The knocking was now exchanged for blows with great ham-
mers, to which the doors, strong as they were, must soon have
given way. But the abbot, who saw resistance would be vain,
and who did not wish to incense the assailants by an attempt
at offering it, besought silence earnestly, and with difficulty
obtained a hearing. "My children,” said he, “I will save you
from committing a great sin. The porter will presently undo
the gate—he is gone to fetch the keys; meantime, I pray you
to consider with yourselves if you are in a state of mind to
cross the holy threshold."
66
"Tillyvalley for your Papistry!" was answered from with-
out;
we are in the mood of the monks when they are merri-
est, and that is when they sup beef-brewis for lenten-kail.
So, if your porter hath not the gout, let him come speedily, or
we heave away readily. Said I well, comrades?"
"Bravely said, and it shall be as bravely done," said the
multitude; and had not the keys arrived at that moment, and
the porter in hasty terror performed his office, throwing open
the great door, the populace would have saved him the trouble.
The instant he had done so, the affrighted janitor fled, like
one who has drawn the bolts of a flood-gate, and expects to
be overwhelmed by the rushing inundation. The monks, with
one consent, had withdrawn themselves behind the abbot, who
alone kept his station, about three yards from the entrance,
showing no signs of fear or perturbation. His brethren, partly
encouraged by his devotion, partly ashamed to desert him, and
partly animated by a sense of duty, remained huddled close
together at the back of their superior. There was a loud
laugh and huzza when the doors were opened; but, contrary
to what might have been expected, no crowd of enraged as-
sailants rushed into the church. On the contrary, there was
a cry of "A halt!—a halt! to order, my masters! and let the
two reverend fathers greet each other, as beseems them."
C
The appearance of the crowd who were thus called to order

"The appearance of the crowd was grotesque in the extreme."
Abbot, Chap. xiv., p. 144.
THE ABBOT.
145
was grotesque in the extreme. It was composed of men, wo-
men, and children, ludicrously disguised in various habits,
and presenting groups equally diversified and grotesque.
Here one fellow with a horse's head painted before him, and
a tail behind, and the whole covered with a long foot-cloth
which was supposed to hide the body of the animal, ambled,
caracoled, pranced, and plunged, as he performed the cele-
brated part of the hobby-horse,' so often alluded to in our
ancient drama, and which still flourishes on the stage in the
battle that concludes Bayes's tragedy. To rival the address
and agility displayed by this character, another personage
advanced, in the more formidable character of a huge dragon,
with gilded wings, open jaws, and a scarlet tongue, cloven at
the end, which made various efforts to overtake and devour
a lad, dressed as the lovely Sabæa, a daughter of the King of
Egypt, who fled before him; while a martial St. George, gro-
tesquely armed with a goblet for a helmet and a spit for a
lance, ever and anon interfered, and compelled the monster to
relinquish his prey. A bear, a wolf, and one or two other
wild animals, played their parts with the discretion of Snug
the joiner; for the decided preference which they gave to the
use of their hind legs was sufficient, without any formal an-
nunciation, to assure the most timorous spectators that they had
to do with habitual bipeds. There was a group of outlaws,
with Robin Hood and Little John at their head 2-the best
representation exhibited at the time; and no great wonder,
since most of the actors were, by profession, the banished men
and thieves whom they presented. Other masqueraders there
were, of a less marked description. Men were disguised as
women, and women as men; children wore the dress of aged
people, and tottered with crutch-sticks in their hands, furred
gowns on their little backs, and caps on their round heads;
while grandsires assumed the infantine tone as well as the
dress of children. Besides these, many had their faces
painted, and wore their shirts over the rest of their dress;
while coloured pasteboard and ribbands furnished out decora-
tions for others. Those who wanted all these properties,
? See Note 10.
-
1 See Note 9.
↓
10
146
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
blacked their faces, and turned their jackets inside out; and
thus the transmutation of the whole assembly into a set of
mad grotesque mummers was at once completed.
The pause which the masqueraders made, waiting apparent-
ly for some person of the highest authority amongst them; gave
those within the abbey church full time to observe all these
absurdities. They were at no loss to comprehend their pur-
pose and meaning.
Few readers can be ignorant that, at an early period, and
during the plenitude of her power, the Church of Rome not
only connived at, but even encouraged, such saturnalian li-
censes as the inhabitants of Kennaquhair and the neighbour-
hood had now in hand, and that the vulgar, on such occasions,
were not only permitted but encouraged, by a number of
gambols, sometimes puerile and ludicrous, sometimes immoral
and profane, to indemnify themselves for the privations and
penances imposed on them at other seasons. But, of all other
topics for burlesque and ridicule, the rites and ceremonial of
the church itself were most frequently resorted to; and,
strange to say, with the approbation of the clergy themselves.
While the hierarchy flourished in full glory, they do not
appear to have dreaded the consequences of suffering the peo-
ple to become so irreverently familiar with things sacred: they
then imagined the laity to be much in the condition of a la-
bourer's horse, which does not submit to the bridle and the
whip with greater reluctance because, at rare intervals, he is
allowed to frolic at large in his pasture, and fling out his heels
in clumsy gambols at the master who usually drives him.
But, when times changed-when doubt of the Roman Catho-
lic doctrine, and hatred of their priesthood, had possessed the
Reformed party-the clergy discovered, too late, that no small
inconvenience arose from the established practice of games and
merry-makings, in which they themselves, and all they held
most sacred, were made the subject of ridicule. It then be-
came obvious to duller politicians than the Romish church-
men, that the same actions have a very different tendency
when done in the spirit of sarcastic insolence and hatred than
when acted merely in exuberance of rude and uncontrollable
I
THE ABBOT.
147
spirit. They, therefore, though of the latest, endeavoured,
where they had any remaining influence, to discourage the re-
newal of these indecorous festivities. In this particular, the
Catholic clergy were joined by most of the Reformed preach-
ers, who were more shocked at the profanity and immorality
of many of these exhibitions than disposed to profit by the
ridiculous light in which they placed the Church of Rome and
her observances. But it was long ere these scandalous and
immoral sports could be abrogated: the rude multitude con-
tinued attached to their favourite pastimes; and, both in Eng-
land and Scotland, the mitre of the Catholic, the rochet of the
Reformed, bishop, and the cloak and band of the Calvinistic
divine, were, in turn, compelled to give place to those jocular
personages, the Pope of Fools, the Boy Bishop, and the Ab-
bot of Unreason.¹
It was the latter personage who now, in full costume, made
his approach to the great door of the church of St. Mary's,
accoutred in such a manner as to form a caricature, or practi-
cal parody, on the costume and attendants of the real superior,
whom he came to beard on the very day of his installation, in
the presence of his clergy, and in the chancel of his church.
The mock dignitary was a stout-made, under-sized fellow,
whose thick squab form had been rendered grotesque by a sup-
plemental paunch, well stuffed. He wore a mitre of leather,
with the front like a grenadier's cap, adorned with mock em-
broidery and trinkets of tin. This surmounted a visage the
nose of which was the most prominent feature, being of un-
usual size, and at least as richly gemmed as his head-gear.
His robe was of buckram, and his cope of canvas, curiously
painted, and cut into open work. On one shoulder was fixed
the painted figure of an owl; and he bore in the right hand
his pastoral staff, and in the left a small mirror having a
handle to it, thus resembling a celebrated jester, whose ad-
ventures, translated into English, were whilom extremely
popular, and which may still be procured in black letter for
about one sterling pound per leaf.
O
¹ From the interesting novel entitled Anastasius, it seems the same bur-
lesque ceremonies were practised in the Greek Church.
148
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
The attendants of this mock dignitary had their proper
dresses and equipage, bearing the same burlesque resemblance
to the officers of the convent which their leader did to the su-
perior. They followed their leader in regular procession, and
the motley characters, which had waited his arrival, now
crowded into the church in his train, shouting as they came:
"A hall-a hall! for the venerable Father Howleglas, the
learned Monk of Misrule, and the Right Reverend Abbot of
Unreason!"
The discordant minstrelsy of every kind renewed its din:
the boys shrieked and howled, and the men laughed and hal-
looed, and the women giggled and screamed, and the beasts
roared, and the dragon walloped and hissed, and the hobby-
horse neighed, pranced, and capered, and the rest frisked
and frolicked, clashing their hobnailed shoes against the
pavement, till it sparkled with the marks of their energetic
caprioles.
-
It was, in fine, a scene of ridiculous confusion, that deafened
the ear, made the eyes giddy, and must have altogether stunned.
any indifferent spectator; the monks, whom personal appre-
hension and a consciousness that much of the popular enjoy-
ment arose from the ridicule being directed against them,
were, moreover, little comforted by the reflection that, bold
in their disguise, the mummers who whooped and capered
around them might, on slight provocation, turn their jest into
earnest, or at least proceed to those practical pleasantries
which at all times arise so naturally out of the frolicsome and
mischievous disposition of the populace. They looked to
their abbot amid the tumult, with such looks as landsmen cast
upon the pilot when the storm is at the highest looks which
express that they are devoid of all hope arising from their own
exertions, and not very confident in any success likely to at-
tend those of their Palinurus.
The abbot himself seemed at a stand; he felt no fear, but
he was sensible of the danger of expressing his rising indigna-
tion, which he was scarcely able to suppress.
He made a ges-
ture with his hand as if commanding silence, which was at
first only replied to by redoubled shouts, and peals of wild
THE ABBOT.
149
laughter. When, however, the same motion, and as nearly
in the same manner, had been made by Howleglas, it was im-
mediately obeyed by his riotous companions, who expected
fresh food for mirth in the conversation betwixt the real and
mock abbot, having no small confidence in the vulgar wit and
impudence of their leader. Accordingly, they began to shout,
"To it, fathers to it!" "Fight monk, fight madcap: abbot
against abbot is fair play, and so is reason against unreason,
and malice against monkery!"
"Silence, my mates!" said Howleglas; "cannot two learned
fathers of the church hold communing together, but you must
come here with your bear-garden whoop and halloo, as if you
were hounding forth a mastiff upon a mad bull? I say, si-
lence! and let this learned father and me confer touching mat-
ters affecting our mutual state and authority."
" said Father Ambrose.
"My children-
"My children too-and happy children they are!" said
his burlesque counterpart; "many a wise child knows not
its own father, and it is well they have two to choose be-
twixt."
"If thou hast aught in thee, save scoffing and ribaldry,
said the real abbot, "permit me, for thine own soul's sake, to
speak a few words to these misguided men."
Aught in me but scoffing, say'st thou?" retorted the Ab-
bot of Unreason; "why, reverend brother, I have all that be-
comes mine office at this time a-day: I have beef, ale, and ·
brandy-wine, with other condiments not worth mentioning;
and for speaking, man-why, speak away, and we will have
turn about like honest fellows."
99
During this discussion the wrath of Magdalen Græme had
risen to the uttermost; she approached the abbot, and, placing
herself by his side, said in a low and yet distinct tone:
"Wake and arouse thee, father; the sword of St. Peter is in
thy hand-strike and avenge St. Peter's patrimony! Bind
them in the chains, which, being riveted by the church on
earth, are riveted in Heaven-
""
"Peace, sister!" said the abbot; "let not their madness de-
stroy our discretion-I pray thee, peace, and let me do mine
150
WAVERLEY NOVELS..
office. It is the first, peradventure it may be the last, time
I shall be called on to discharge it."
"Nay, my holy brother!" said Howleglas, "I rede you, take
the holy sister's advice: never throve convent without woman's
counsel.'
"Peace, vain man!" said the abbot; "and you, my breth-
ren-
""
رو
"Nay, nay!" said the Abbot of Unreason, "no speaking to
the lay people until you have conferred with your brother of
the cowl. I swear by bell, book, and candle that not one of
my congregation shall listen to one word you have to say; so
you had as well address yourself to me who will."
To escape a conference so ludicrous, the abbot again at-
tempted an appeal to what respectful feelings might yet re-
main amongst the inhabitants of the halidome, once so devoted
to their spiritual superiors. Alas! the Abbot of Unreason had
only to flourish his mock crosier, and the whooping, the hal-
looing, and the dancing were renewed with a vehemence which
would have defied the lungs of Stentor.
((
"And now, my mates," said the Abbot of Unreason, once
again dight your gabs and be hushed; let us see if the cock of
Kennaquhair will fight or flee the pit."
There was again a dead silence of expectation, of which
Father Ambrose availed himself to address his antagonist, see-
ing plainly that he could gain an audience on no other terms.
"Wretched man!" said he, "hast thou no better employment
for thy carnal wit than to employ it in leading these blind and
helpless creatures into the pit of utter darkness?"
66
Truly, my brother," replied Howleglas, "I can see little
difference betwixt your employment and mine, save that you
make a sermon of a jest and I make a jest of a sermon."
"Unhappy being," said the abbot, "who hast no better sub-
ject of pleasantry than that which should make thee tremble,
no sounder jest than thine own sins, and no better objects for
laughter than those who can absolve thee from the guilt of
them!"
"Verily, my reverend brother," said the mock abbot, "what
you say might be true if, in laughing at hypocrites, I meant
1
THE ABBOT.
151
to laugh at religion. Oh, it is a precious thing to wear a long
dress, with a girdle and a cowl: we become a holy pillar of
Mother Church, and a boy must not play at ball against the
walls for fear of breaking a painted window!"
"And will you, my friends," said the abbot, looking round
and speaking with a vehemence which secured him a tranquil
audience for some time-" will you suffer a profane buffoon,
within the very church of God, to insult His ministers? Many
of you—all of you, perhaps—have lived under my holy prede-
cessors, who were called upon to rule in this church where
I am called upon to suffer. If you have worldly goods, they
are their gift; and, when you scorned not to accept better
gifts the mercy and forgiveness of the church-were they
not ever at your command?-did we not pray while you were
jovial, wake while you slept?"
،، Some of the good wives of the halidome were wont to say
so," said the Abbot of Unreason; but his jest met in this in-
stance but slight applause, and Father Ambrose, having gained
a moment's attention, hastened to improve it.
"What!" said he; "and is this grateful-is it seemly-is
it honest-to assail with scorn a few old men, from whose
predecessors you hold all, and whose only wish is to die in
peace among these fragments of what was once the light of
the land, and whose daily prayer is, that they may be removed
ere that hour comes when the last spark shall be extinguished,
and the land left in the darkness which it has chosen rather
than light? We have not turned against you the edge of the
spiritual sword, to revenge our temporal persecution; the tem-
pest of your wrath hath despoiled us of land, and deprived us
almost of our daily food, but we have not repaid it with the
thunders of excommunication; we only pray your leave to live
and die within the church which is our own, invoking God,
Our Lady, and the holy saints to pardon your sins, and our
own, undisturbed by scurril buffoonery and blasphemy."
This speech, so different in tone and termination from that
which the crowd had expected, produced an effect upon their
feelings unfavourable to the prosecution of their frolic. The
morrice-dancers stood still, the hobby-horse surceased his ca-
1
152
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
pering, pipe and tabor were mute, and "silence, like a heavy
cloud,” seemed to descend on the late noisy rabble. Several
of the beasts were obviously moved to compunction: the bear
could not restrain his sobs, and a huge fox was observed to
wipe his eyes with his tail. But in especial the dragon, lately
so formidably rampant, now relaxed the terror of his claws,
uncoiled his tremendous rings, and grumbled out of his fiery
throat in a repentant tone: "By the mass, I thought no harm
in exercising our old pastime, but an I had thought the good
father would have taken it so to heart I would as soon have
played your devil as your dragon.”
In this momentary pause, the abbot stood amongst the mis-
cellaneous and grotesque forms by which he was surrounded,
triumphant as St. Anthony, in Callot's Temptations; but
Howleglas would not so resign his purpose.
“And how now, my masters!" said he; "is this fair play
or no?
Have you not chosen me Abbot of Unreason, and is
it lawful for any of you to listen to common sense to-day?
Was I not formally elected by you in solemn chapter, held in
Luckie Martin's change-house, and will you now desert me,
and give up your old pastime and privilege? Play out the
play; and he that speaks the next word of sense or reason, or
bids us think or consider, or the like of that, which befits not
the day, I will have him solemnly ducked in the mill-dam!"
The rabble, mutable as usual, huzzaed, the pipe and tabor
struck up, the hobby-horse pranced, the beasts roared, and
even the repentant dragon began again to coil up his spires
and prepare himself for fresh gambols. But the abbot might
have still overcome, by his eloquence and his entreaties, the
malicious designs of the revellers, had not Dame Magdalen
Græme given loose to the indignation which she had long
suppressed.
"Scoffers," she said, "and men of Belial-blasphemous
heretics and truculent tyrants.
"Your patience, my sister, I entreat and I command you!"
said the abbot; "let me do my duty: disturb me not in mine
office."
But Dame Magdalen continued to thunder forth her threats
¡
THE ABBOT.
153
in the name of popes and councils, and in the name of every
saint from St. Michael downward.
"My comrades!" said the Abbot of Unreason, "this good
dame hath not spoke a single word of reason, and therein may
esteem herself free from the law. But what she spoke was
meant for reason, and, therefore, unless she confesses and
avouches all which she has said to be nonsense, it shall pass
for such, so far as to incur the penalty of our statutes.
Wherefore, holy dame, pilgrim, or abbess, or whatever thou
art, be mute with thy mummery or beware the mill-dam. We
will have neither spiritual nor temporal scolds in our diocese
of Unreason!"
As he spoke thus, he extended his hand towards the old
woman, while his followers shouted, "A doom--a doom!"
and prepared to second his purpose, when lo! it was suddenly
frustrated. Roland Græme had witnessed with indignation
the insults offered to his old spiritual preceptor, but yet had
wit enough to reflect he could render him no assistance, but
might well, by ineffective interference, make matters worse.
But when he saw his aged relative in danger of personal vio-
lence, he gave way to the natural impetuosity of his temper,
and, stepping forward, struck his poniard into the body of
the Abbot of Unreason, whom the blow instantly prostrated
on the pavement.
CHAPTER XV.
As when in tumults rise the ignoble crowd,
Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud,
And stones and brands in rattling furies fly,
And all the rustic arms which fury can supply-
Then if some grave and pious man appear,
They hush their noise, and lend a listening ear.
DRYDEN'S Virgil.
A DREADFUL shout of vengeance was raised by the revel-
lers, whose sport was thus so fearfully interrupted; but, for
an instant, the want of weapons amongst the multitude, as
well as the inflamed features and brandished poniard of Ro-
154
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
t
land Græme, kept them at bay, while the abbot, horror-struck
at the violence, implored, with uplifted hands, pardon for
bloodshed committed within the sanctuary. Magdalen Græme
alone expressed triumph in the blow her descendant had dealt
to the scoffer, mixed, however, with a wild and anxious ex-
pression of terror for her grandson's safety. "Let him per-
ish," she said, "in his blasphemy-let him die on the holy
pavement which he has insulted!"
•
But the rage of the multitude, the grief of the abbot, the
exultation of the enthusiastic Magdalen, were all mistimed
and unnecessary. Howleglas, mortally wounded as he was
supposed to be, sprung alertly up from the floor, calling
aloud: "A miracle—a miracle, my masters! as brave a mir-
acle as ever was wrought in the kirk of Kennaquhair. And
I charge you, my masters, as your lawfully chosen abbot, that
you touch no one without my command. You, wolf and bear,
will guard this pragmatic youth, but without hurting him.
And you, reverend brother, will, with your comrades, with-
draw to your cells; for our conference has ended like all con-
ferences, leaving each of his own mind, as before; and if we
fight, both you, and your brethren, and the kirk, will have
the worst on't. Wherefore, pack up your pipes and begone."
66
The hubbub was beginning again to awaken, but still Father
Ambrose hesitated, as uncertain to what path his duty called
him, whether to face out the present storm or to reserve him-
self for a better moment. His brother of Unreason observed
his difficulty, and said, in a tone more natural and less affect-
ed than that with which he had hitherto sustained his charac-
ter: We came hither, my good sir, more in mirth than in
mischief: our bark is worse than our bite; and especially, we
mean you no personal harm; wherefore, draw off while the
play is good; for it is ill whistling for a hawk when she is
once on the soar, and worse to snatch the quarry from the
ban-dog. Let these fellows once begin their brawl, and it
will be too much for madness itself, let alone the Abbot of
Unreason, to bring them back to the lure.”
The brethren crowded around Father Ambrosius and joined
in urging him to give place to the torrent. The present revel
THE ABBOT.
155
was, they said, an ancient custom which his predecessors had
permitted, and old Father Nicolas himself had played the
dragon in the days of the Abbot Ingelram.
"And we now reap the fruit of the seed which they have
so unadvisedly sown," said Ambrosius: "they taught men to
make a mock of what is holy, what wonder that the descend-
ants of scoffers become robbers and plunderers? But be it as
you list, my brethren-move towards the dortour. And you,
dame, I command you, by the authority which I have over
you, and by your respect for that youth's safety, that you go
with us without farther speech. Yet, stay-what are your
intentions towards that youth whom you detain prisoner?
Wot ye," he continued, addressing Howleglas in a stern tone
of voice, "that he bears the livery of the house of Avenel?
They who fear not the anger of Heaven may at least dread
the wrath of man."
"Cumber not yourself concerning him," answered Howle-
glas, "we know right well who and what he is."
((
"Let me pray," said the abbot, in a tone of entreaty, 'that
you do him no wrong for the rash deed which he attempted
in his imprudent zeal.”
"I say, trouble not yourself about it, father," answered
Howleglas; "but move off with your train, male and female,
or I will not undertake to save yonder she-saint from the
ducking-stool. And as for bearing of malice, my stomach has
no room for it; it is," he added, clapping his hand on his
portly belly, "too well bumbasted out with straw and buck-
ram; gramercy to them both-they kept out that madcap's
dagger as well as a Milan corslet could have done."
In fact, the home-driven poniard of Roland Græme had
hghted upon the stuffing of the fictitious paunch, which the
Abbot of Unreason wore as a part of his characteristic dress,
and it was only the force of the blow which had prostrated
that reverend person on the ground for a moment.
Satisfied in some degree by this man's assurances, and com-
pelled to give way to superior force, the Abbot Ambrosius re-
tired from the church at the head of the monks, and left the
court free for the revellers to work their will. But wild and
ܝ
156
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
wilful as these rioters were, they accompanied the retreat of
the religionists with none of those shouts of contempt and
derision with which they had at first hailed them. The ab-
bot's discourse had affected some of them with remorse, others
with shame, and all with a transient degree of respect. They
remained silent until the last monk had disappeared through
the side-door which communicated with their dwelling-place,
and even then it cost some exhortations on the part of Howle-
glas, some caprioles of the hobby-horse, and some wallops of
the dragon, to rouse once more the rebuked spirit of revelry.
"And how now, my masters?" said the Abbot of Unreason;
"and wherefore look on me with such blank Jack-a-Lent vis-
ages? Will you lose your old pastime for an old wife's tale of
saints and purgatory? Why, I thought you would have made
all split long since. Come, strike up, tabor and harp-strike
up, fiddle and rebeck; dance and be merry to-day, and let
care come to-morrow! Bear and wolf, look to your prisoner
prance, hobby; hiss, dragon, and halloo, boys! we grow older
every moment we stand idle, and life is too short to be spent
in playing mumchance."
This pithy exhortation was attended with the effect desired.
They fumigated the church with burnt wool and feathers in-
stead of incense, put foul water into the holy-water basins,
and celebrated a parody on the church service, the mock ab-
bot officiating at the altar; they sung ludicrous and indecent
parodies to the tunes of church hymns; they violated what-
ever vestments or vessels belonging to the abbey they could
lay their hands upon; and, playing every freak which the
whim of the moment could suggest to their wild caprice, at
length they fell to more lasting deeds of demolition, pulled
down and destroyed some carved wood-work, dashed out the
painted windows which had escaped former violence, and, in
their rigorous search after sculpture dedicated to idolatry,
began to destroy what ornaments yet remained entire upon
the tombs and around the cornices of the pillars.
The spirit of demolition, like other tastes, increases by in-
dulgence: from these lighter attempts at mischief, the more
tumultuous part of the meeting began to meditate destruction
¿
THE ABBOT.
157
on a more extended scale. "Let us heave it down altogether,
the old crows' nest," became a general cry among them; "it
has served the Pope and his rooks too long"; and up they
struck a ballad which was then popular among the lower
classes:
"The Paip, that pagan full of pride,
Hath blinded us ower lang,
For where the blind the blind doth lead,
No marvel baith gae wrang.
Like prince and king,
He led the ring
Of all iniquity.
Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix,
Under the greenwood tree.
The bishop rich, he could not preach
For sporting with the lasses;
The silly friar behoved to fleech
For awmous as he passes;
The curate his creed
He could not read,-
Shame fa' the company!
Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix,
Under the greenwood tree."
Thundering out this chorus of a notable hunting-song,
which had been pressed into the service of some polemical
poet, the followers of the Abbot of Unreason were turning
every moment more tumultuous, and getting beyond the man-
agement even of that reverend prelate himself, when a knight
in full armour, followed by two or three men-at-arms, entered
the church, and in a stern voice commanded them to forbear
their riotous mummery.
.
His visor was up, but, if it had been lowered, the cogni-
zance of the holly-branch sufficiently distinguished Sir Halbert
Glendinning, who, on his homeward road, was passing through
the village of Kennaquhair; and moved perhaps by anxiety
for his brother's safety, had come directly to the church on
hearing of the uproar.
"What is the meaning of this," he said, "my masters?
Are ye Christian men, and the king's subjects, and yet waste
and destroy church and chancel like so many heathens?”
All stood silent, though doubtless there were several disap-
See "The Paip, that Pagan." Note 11.
158
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
A
pointed and surprised at receiving chiding instead of thanks
from so zealous a Protestant.
The dragon, indeed, did at length take upon him to be
spokesman, and growled from the depth of his painted maw,
that they did but sweep Popery out of the church with the
besom of destruction.
"What! my friends," replied Sir Halbert Glendinning,
"think you this mumming and masquing has not more of
Popery in it than have these stone walls? Take the leprosy.
out of your flesh before you speak of purifying stone walls:
abate your insolent license, which leads but to idle vanity and
sinful excess; and know, that what you now practise is one
of the profane and unseemly sports introduced by the priests
of Rome themselves, to mislead and to brutify the souls which
fell into their net.'
""
(6
Marry come up-are you there with your bears?" mut-
tered the dragon, with a draconic sullenness which was in
good keeping with his character; "we had as good have been
Romans still, if we are to have no freedom in our pastimes!”
"Dost thou reply to me so?" said Sir Halbert Glendinning;
66
or is there any pastime in grovelling on the ground there
like a gigantic kail-worm? Get out of thy painted case, or,
by my knighthood, I will treat you like the beast and reptile
you have made yourself.'
22
"Beast and reptile!" retorted the offended dragon; “set-
ting aside your knighthood, I hold myself as well a born man
as thyself."
The knight made no answer in words, but bestowed two
such blows with the butt of his lance on the petulant dragon,
that, had not the hoops which constituted the ribs of the ma-
chine been pretty strong, they would hardly have saved those
of the actor from being broken. In all haste the masquer
crept out of his disguise, unwilling to abide a third buffet
from the lance of the enraged knight. And when the ex-
dragon stood on the floor of the church, he presented to Hal-
bert Glendinning the well-known countenance of Dan of the
Howlethirst, an ancient comrade of his own, ere fate had
raised him so high above the rank to which he was born.
THE ABBOT.
159
The clown looked sulkily upon the knight, as if to upbraid
him for his violence towards an old acquaintance, and Glen-
dinning's own good-nature reproached him for the violence he
had acted upon him.
"I did wrong to strike thee, Dan," he said; "but in truth
I knew thee not: thou wert ever a mad fellow. Come to
Avenel Castle and we shall see how my hawks fly."
"And if we show him not falcons that will mount as mer-
rily as rockets," said the Abbot of Unreason, "I would your
honour laid as hard on my bones as you did on his even now.”
"How now, sir knave," said the knight, "and what has
brought you hither?"
The abbot, hastily ridding himself of the false nose which
mystified his physiognomy, and the supplementary belly which
made up his disguise, stood before his master in his real char-
acter of Adam Woodcock, the falconer of Avenel.
66
"How, varlet!" said the knight; "hast thou dared to come
here, and disturb the very house my brother was dwelling in?"
'And it was even for that reason, craving your honour's
pardon, that I came hither; for I heard the country was to be'
up to choose an Abbot of Unreason, and “Sure," thought I,
“I that can sing, dance, leap backwards over a broadsword,
and am as good a fool as ever sought promotion, have all
chance of carrying the office; and if I gain my election, I may
stand his honour's brother in some stead, supposing things
fall roughly out at the kirk of St. Mary's."
"Thou art but a cogging knave," said Sir Halbert, "and
well I wot that love of ale and brandy, besides the humour
of riot and frolic, would draw thee a mile, when love of my
house would not bring thee a yard. But, go to carry thy
roisterers elsewhere-to the alehouse if they list, and there
are crowns to pay your charges; make out the day's madness
without doing more mischief, and be wise men to-morrow;
and hereafter learn to serve a good cause better than by act-
ing like buffoons or ruffians."
Obedient to his master's mandate, the falconer was collect-
ing his discouraged followers, and whispering into their ears:
66
Away, away-tace is Latin for a candle. Never mind the
160
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
good knight's Puritanism-we will play the frolic out over a
stand of double ale in Dame Martin the brewster's barn-yard.
Draw off, harp and tabor, bagpipe and drum, mum till you
are out of the churchyard, then let the welkin ring again;
move on, wolf and bear-keep the hind legs till you cross the
kirk-stile, and then show yourselves beasts of mettle; what
devil sent him here to spoil our holiday! But anger him
not, my hearts; his lance is no goose-feather, as Dan's ribs
can tell."
"By my soul," said Dan, "had it been another than my an-
cient comrade, I would have made my father's old fox fly about
his ears!"
"Hush-hush! man," replied Adam Woodcock, "not a
word that way, as you value the safety of your bones; what,
man! we must take a clink as it passes, so it is not bestowed
in downright ill-will."
"But I will take no such thing," said Dan of the Howlet-
hirst, sullenly resisting the efforts of Woodcock, who was
dragging him out of the church; when the quick military eye
of Sir Halbert Glendinning detecting Roland Græme betwixt
his two guards, the knight exclaimed: "So ho! falconer—
Woodcock-knave, hast thou brought my lady's page in
mine own livery to assist at this hopeful revel of thine, with
your wolves and bears? Since you were at such mummings,
you might, if you would, have at least saved the credit of my
household by dressing him up as a jackanapes. Bring him
hither, fellows!"
Adam Woodcock was too honest and downright to permit
blame to light upon the youth when it was undeserved. "I
swear," he said, "by St. Martin of Bullions—
""
"And what hast thou to do with St. Martin?"
"Nay, little enough, sir, unless when he sends such rainy
days that we cannot fly a hawk; but I say to your worshipful
knighthood that, as I am a true man
ور
"As you are a false varlet, had been the better obtestation.”
"Nay, if your knighthood allows me not to speak," said
Adam, "I can hold my tongue; but the boy came not hither
by my bidding, for all that."
?
THE ABBOT.
161
"But to gratify his own malapert pleasure, I warrant me,
said Sir Halbert Glendinning. "Come hither, young spring-
ald, and tell me whether you have your mistress's license to
be so far absent from the castle, or to dishonour my livery by
mingling in such a May-game?"
-
"Sir Halbert Glendinning," answered Roland Græme, with
steadiness, "I have obtained the permission, or rather the
commands, of your lady to dispose of my time hereafter ac-
cording to my own pleasure. I have been a most unwilling
spectator of this May-game, since it is your pleasure so to
call it; and I only wear your livery until I can obtain clothes
which bear no such badge of servitude."
How am I to understand this, young man?" said Sir Hal-
bert Glendinning; "speak plainly, for I am no reader of rid-
dles. That my lady favoured thee, I know. What hast thou
done to disoblige her, and occasion thy dismissal?"
66
Nothing to speak of," said Adam Woodcock, answering
for the boy;
a foolish quarrel with me, which was more
foolishly told over again to my honoured lady, cost the poor
boy his place. For my part, I will say freely that I was
wrong from beginning to end, except about the washing of
the eyas's meat. There I stand to it that I was right."
With that, the good-natured falconer repeated to his master
the whole history of the squabble which had brought Roland
Græme into disgrace with his mistress, but in a manner so
favourable for the page that Sir Halbert could not but sus-
pect his generous motive.
"Thou art a good-natured fellow," he said, "Adam Wood-
cock."
"As ever had falcon upon fist," said Adam; "and, for that
matter, so is Master Roland; but being half a gentleman by
his office, his blood is soon up, and so is mine."
"Well," said Sir Halbert, "be it as it will, my lady has
acted hastily, for this was no great matter of offence to dis-
card the lad whom she had trained up for years; but he, I
doubt not, made it worse by his prating; it jumps well with
a purpose, however, which I had in my mind. Draw off
these people, Woodcock; and you, Roland Græme, attend me."
11
162
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
The page followed him in silence into the abbot's house,
where, stepping into the first apartment which he found open,
he commanded one of his attendants to let his brother, Master
Edward Glendinning, know that he desired to speak with
him. The men-at-arms went gladly off to join their comrade,
Adam Woodcock, and the jolly crew whom he had assembled
at Dame Martin's, the hostler's wife, and the page and knight
were left alone in the apartment. Sir Halbert Glendinning
paced the floor for a moment in silence, and then thus ad-
dressed his attendant:
"Thou mayest have remarked, stripling, that I have but
seldom distinguished thee by much notice-I see thy colour
rises, but do not speak till thou hearest me out. I say, I
have never much distinguished thee, not because I did not see
that in thee which I might well have praised, but because I
saw something blameable, which such praises might have
made worse.
Thy mistress, dealing according to her pleasure
in her own household, as no one hath better reason or title,
had picked thee from the rest, and treated thee more like a
relation than a domestic; and if thou didst show some vanity
and petulance under such distinction, it were injustice not to
say that thou hast profited both in thy exercises and in thy
breeding, and hast shown many sparkles of a gentle and
manly spirit. Moreover, it were ungenerous, having bred
thee up freakish and fiery, to dismiss thee to want or wander-
ing for showing that very peevishness and impatience of dis-
cipline which arose from thy too delicate nurture. Therefore,
and for the credit of my own household, I am determined to
retain thee in my train, until I can honourably dispose of thee
elsewhere, with a fair prospect of thy going through the world
with credit to the house that brought thee up."
If there was something in Sir Halbert Glendinning's speech
which flattered Roland's pride, there was also much that, ac-
cording to his mode of thinking, was an alloy to the compli-
ment. And yet his conscience instantly told him that he
ought to accept, with grateful deference, the offer which was
made him by the husband of his kind protectress; and his
prudence, however slender, could not but admit he should
THE ABBOT.
163
enter the world under very different auspices as a retainer of
Sir Halbert Glendinning, so famed for wisdom, courage, and
influence, from those under which he might partake the wan-
derings, and become an agent in the visionary schemes-for
such they appeared to him—of Magdalen, his relative. Still
a strong reluctance to re-enter a service from which he had
been dismissed with contempt almost counterbalanced these
considerations.
Sir Halbert looked on the youth with surprise, and resumed:
66 'You seem to hesitate, young man. Are your own prospects
so inviting that you should pause ere you accept those which
I offer to you? or must I remind you that, although you have
offended your benefactress, even to the point of her dismiss-
ing you, yet I am convinced the knowledge that you have
gone unguided on your own wild way, into a world so dis-
turbed as ours of Scotland, cannot, in the upshot, but give
her sorrow and pain; from which it is, in gratitude, your duty
to preserve her, no less than it is in common wisdom your
duty to accept my offered protection, for your own sake, where
body and soul are alike endangered should you refuse it."
Roland Græme replied in a respectful tone, but at the same
time with some spirit: "I am not ungrateful for such counte-
nance as has been afforded me by the Lord of Avenel, and I am
glad to learn, for the first time, that I have not had the mis-
fortune to be utterly beneath his observation, as I had thought.
And it is only needful to show me how I can testify my duty
and my gratitude towards my early and constant benefactress
with my life's hazard, and I will gladly peril it." He stopped.
،،
These are but words, young man," answered Glendinning;
'large protestations are often used to supply the place of ef-
fectual service. I know nothing in which the peril of your
life can serve the Lady of Avenel; I can only say, she will
be pleased to learn you have adopted some course which may
ensure the safety of your person and the weal of your soul.
What ails you, that you accept not that safety when it is of-
fered you?"
God
"My only relative who is alive," answered Roland-" at
least the only relative whom I have ever seen-has rejoined me
164
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
since I was dismissed from the Castle of Avenel, and I must
consult with her whether I can adopt the line to which you
now call me, or whether her increasing infirmities, or the au-
thority which she is entitled to exercise over me, may not
require me to abide with her.”
"Where is this relation?" said Sir Halbert Glendinning.
"In this house," answered the page.
"Go, then, and seek her out," said the Knight of Avenel;
more than meet it is that thou shouldst have her approbation,
yet worse than foolish would she show herself in denying it."
Roland left the apartment to seek for his grandmother, and
as he retreated the abbot entered.
66
The two brothers met as brothers who love each other fondly,
yet meet rarely together. Such indeed was the case. Their
mutual affection attached them to each other; but in every
pursuit, habit, or sentiment connected with the discords of
the times the friend and counsellor of Murray stood opposed
to the Roman Catholic priest; nor, indeed, could they have
held very much society together without giving cause of offence
and suspicion to their confederates on each side. After a close
embrace on the part of both, and a welcome on that of the ab-
bot, Sir Halbert Glendinning expressed his satisfaction that
he had come in time to appease the riot raised by Howleglas
and his tumultuous followers.
66 And yet," he said, "when I look on your garments, brother
Edward, I cannot help thinking there still remains an Abbot
of Unreason within the bounds of the monastery."
"And wherefore carp at my garments, brother Halbert?"
said the abbot; "it is the spiritual armour of my calling, and,
as such, beseems me as well as breastplate and baldric become
your own bosom."
“Ay, but there were small wisdom, methinks, in putting on
armour where we have no power to fight: it is but a danger-
ous temerity to defy the foe whom we cannot resist.”
"For that, my brother, no one can answer," said the abbot,
"until the battle be fought; and, were it even as you say, me-
thinks a brave man, though desperate of victory, would rather
desire to fight and fall than to resign sword and shield on some
THE ABBOT.
165
mean and dishonourable composition with his insulting antag-
onist. But let us not, dear Halbert, make discord of a theme
on which we cannot agree, but rather stay and partake, though
a heretic, of my admission feast. You need not fear, my
brother, that your zeal for restoring the primitive discipline
of the church will, on this occasion, be offended with the rich
profusion of a conventual banquet. The days of our old friend
Abbot Boniface are over; and the superior of St. Mary's has
neither forests nor fishings, woods nor pastures, nor cornfields;
neither flocks nor herds, bucks nor wild-fowl, granaries of
wheat, nor storehouses of oil and wine, of ale and of mead.
The refectioner's office is ended; and such a meal as a hermit
in romance can offer to a wandering knight is all we have to
set before you. But, if you will share it with us, we shall
eat it with a cheerful heart, and thank you, my brother, for
your timely protection against these rude scoffers.'
""
S
"My dearest Edward," said the knight, "it grieves me
deeply I cannot abide with you; but it would sound ill for
us both were one of the Reformed congregation to sit down
at your admission feast; and, if I can ever have the satisfac-
tion of affording you effectual protection, it will be much ow-
ing to my remaining unsuspected of countenancing or approving
your religious rites and ceremonies. It will demand whatever
consideration I can acquire among my own friends to shelter
the bold man who, contrary to law and the edicts of parlia-
ment, has dared to take up the office of abbot of St. Mary's."
"Trouble not yourself with the task, my brother," replied
Father Ambrosius. "I would lay down my dearest blood to
know that you defended the church for the church's sake; but
while you remain unhappily her enemy, I would not that you
endangered your own safety, or diminished your own com-
forts, for the sake of my individual protection. But who
comes hither to disturb the few minutes of fraternal communi-
cation which our evil fate allows us?”
The door of the apartment opened as the abbot spoke, and
Dame Magdalen entered.
"Who is this woman?" said Sir Halbert Glendinning, some
what sternly, "and what does she want?"
166
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"That you know me not," said the matron, "signifies little;
I come by your own order, to give my free consent that the
stripling, Roland Græme, return to your service; and, having
said so, I cumber you no longer with my presence. Peace be
with you!" She turned to go away, but was stopped by the
inquiries of Sir Halbert Glendinning.
Who are you?-what are you?-and why do you not await
to make me answer?"
"I was," she replied, "while yet I belonged to the world,
a matron of no vulgar name; now I am Magdalen, a poor pil-
grimer, for the sake of Holy Kirk."
"Yea," said Sir Halbert, "art thou a Catholic? I thought
my dame said that Roland Græme came of Reformed kin."
"His father," said the matron, "was a heretic, or rather
one who regarded neither orthodoxy nor heresy-neither the
temple of the church or of antichrist. I, too-for the sins of
of the times make sinners-have seemed to conform to your un-
hallowed rites; but I had my dispensation and my absolution."
"You see, brother," said Sir Halbert, with a smile of mean-
ing towards the abbot, "that we accuse you not altogether
without grounds of mental equivocation.'
"My brother, you do us injustice," replied the abbot; "this
woman, as her bearing may of itself warrant you, is not in
her perfect mind. Thanks, I must needs say, to the perse-
cution of your marauding barons and of your latitudinarian
clergy."
"I will not dispute the point," said Sir Halbert; "the evils
of the time are unhappily so numerous that both churches
may divide them and have enow to spare." So saying, he
leaned from the window of the apartment and winded his
bugle.
66
""
'Why do you sound your horn, my brother?" said the
abbot; "we have spent but few minutes together."
“Alas!” said the elder brother, "and even these few have
been sullied by disagreement.
I sound to horse, my brother,
the rather that, to avert the consequences of this day's rash-
ness on your part requires hasty efforts on mine.
Dame, you
will oblige me by letting your young relative know that we
THE ABBOT.
167
mount instantly. I intend not that he shall return to Avenel
with me; it would lead to new quarrels betwixt him and my
household; at least, to taunts which his proud heart could ill
brook, and my wish is to do him kindness. He shall, there-
fore, go forward to Edinburgh with one of my retinue, whom
I shall send back to say what has chanced here.
You seem
rejoiced at this?" he added, fixing his eyes keenly on Magda-
len Græme, who returned his gaze with calm indifference.
"I would rather," she said, "that Roland, a poor and friend-
less orphan, were the jest of the world at large than of the
menials at Avenel."
"Fear not, dame, he shall be scorned by neither," answered
the knight.
""
"It may be," she replied—" it may well be; but I will trust
more to his own bearing than to your countenance.' She left
the room as she spoke.
The knight looked after her as she departed, but turned in-
stantly to his brother, and expressing, in the most affectionate
terms, his wishes for his welfare and happiness, craved his
leave to depart. "My knaves," he said, "are too busy at
the ale-stand to leave their revelry for the empty breath of
a bugle-horn."
P
"You have freed them from higher restraint, Halbert," an-
swered the abbot, "and therein taught them to rebel against
your own."
""
66
Fear not that, Edward," exclaimed Halbert, who never
gave his brother his monastic name of Ambrosius; none obey
the command of real duty so well as those who are free from
the observance of slavish bondage."
He was turning to depart, when the abbot said: "Let us
not yet part, my brother; here comes some light refresh-
ment. Leave not the house which I must now call mine, till
force expel me from it, until you have at least broken bread
with me."
C
The poor lay brother, the same who acted as porter, now
entered the apartment, bearing some simple refreshment and
a flask of wine. 'He had found it," he said with officious
humility, "by rummaging through every nook of the cellar."
((
168
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
The knight filled a small silver cup, and, quaffing it off,
asked his brother to pledge him, observing, the wine was Bach-
arac, of the first vintage, and great age.
"Ay," said the poor lay brother, "it came out of the nook
which old Brother Nicolas-may his soul be happy!—was
wont to call Abbot Ingelram's corner; and Abbot Ingelram
was bred at the convent of Würtzburg, which I understand to
be near were that choice wine grows.
"True, my reverend sir," said Sir Halbert; "and therefore
I entreat my brother and you to pledge me in a cup of this
orthodox vintage."
(6
The thin old porter looked with a wishful glance towards
the abbot. 'Do veniam,” said his superior; and the old man
seized, with a trembling hand, a beverage to which he had
been long unaccustomed, drained the cup with protracted de-
light, as if dwelling on the flavour and perfume, and set it
down with a melancholy smile and shake of the head, as if
bidding adieu in future to such delicious potations. The broth-
ers smiled. But when Sir Halbert motioned to the abbot to
take up his cup and do him reason, the abbot, in turn, shook
his head, and replied: "This is no day for the abbot of St.
Mary's to eat the fat and drink the sweet, In water from
Our Lady's well," he added, filling a cup with the limpid ele-
ment, “I wish you, my brother, all happiness, and, above all,
a true sight of your spiritual errors."
"And to you, my beloved Edward," replied Glendinning,
"I wish the free exercise of your own free reason, and the
discharge of more important duties than are connected with
the idle name which you have so rashly assumed.'
""
The brothers parted with deep regret; and yet each, confi-
dent in his opinion, felt somewhat relieved by the absence of
one whom he respected so much, and with whom he could agree
so little.
22
Soon afterwards the sound of the Knight of Avenel's trum-
pets was heard, and the abbot went to the top of a tower, from
whose dismantled battlements he could soon see the horsemen
ascending the rising ground in the direction of the drawbridge.
As he gazed, Magdalen Græme came to his side.
THE ABBOT.
169
"Thou art come," he said, "to catch the last glimpse of thy
grandson, my sister. Yonder he wends, under the charge of
the best knight in Scotland, his faith ever excepted."
"Thou canst bear witness, my father, that it was no wish
either of mine or of Roland's," replied the matron, "which
induced the Knight of Avenel, as he is called, again to enter-
tain my grandson in his household. Heaven, which confounds
the wise with their own wisdom, and the wicked with their
own policy, hath placed him where, for the service of the
church, I would most wish him to be."
"I know not what you mean, my sister," said the abbot.
"Reverend father," replied Magdalen, "hast thou never
heard that there are spirits powerful to rend the walls of a
castle asunder when once admitted, which yet cannot enter the
house unless they are invited, nay, dragged over the threshold?'
Twice hath Roland Græme been thus drawn into the house-
hold of Avenel by those who now hold the title. Let them
look to the issue."
So saying, she left the turret; and the abbot, after pausing
a moment on her words, which he imputed to the unsettled
state of her mind, followed down the winding stair to cele-
brate his admission to his high office by fast and prayer, in-
stead of revelling and thanksgiving.
¹ See Inability of Evil Spirits to enter a House uninvited. Note 12.
170
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
CHAPTER XVI.
Youth! thou wear'st to manhood now.
Darker lip and darker brow,
Statelier step, more pensive mien,
In thy face and gait are seen:
Thou must now brook midnight watches,
Take thy food and sport by snatches!
For the gambol and the jest,
Thou wert wont to love the best,
Graver follies must thou follow,
But as senseless, false, and hollow.
Life, a Poem.
YOUNG Roland Græme now trotted gaily forward in the
train of Sir Halbert Glendinning. He was relieved from his
most galling apprehension-the encounter of the scorn and
taunt which might possibly hail his immediate return to the
Castle of Avenel. There will be a change ere they see me
again," he thought to himself; "I shall wear the coat of plate,
instead of the green jerkin, and the steel morion for the bon-
net and feather. They will be bold that may venture to break
a gibe on the man-at-arms for the follies of the page; and I
trust that, ere we return, I shall have done something more
worthy of note than hallooing a hound after a deer, or scram-
bling a crag for a kite's nest." He could not, indeed, help
marvelling that his grandmother, with all her religious preju-
dices leaning, it would seem, to the other side, had consented
so readily to his re-entering the service of the house of Av-
enel; and yet more at the mysterious joy with which she
took leave of him at the abbey.
"Heaven," said the dame, as she kissed her young relation,
and bade him farewell, "works its own work, even by the
hands of those of our enemies who think themselves the strong-
est and the wisest. Thou, my child, be ready to act upon the
call of thy religion and country; and remember, each earthly
bond which thou canst form is, compared to the ties which
bind thee to them, like the loose flax to the twisted cable.
Thou hast not forgot the face or form of the damsel Catherine
Seyton?"
66
THE ABBOT.
171
Roland would have replied in the negative, but the word
seemed to stick in his throat, and Magdalen continued her
exhortations.
"Thou must not forget her, my son; and here I entrust
thee with a token, which I trust thou wilt speedily find an
opportunity of delivering with care and secrecy into her own
hand."
She put here into Roland's hand a very small packet, of
which she again enjoined him to take the strictest care, and
to suffer it to be seen by no one save Catherine Seyton, who,
she again (very unnecessarily) reminded him was the young
maiden he had met on the preceding day. She then bestowed
on him her solemn benediction, and bade God speed him.
There was something in her manner and her conduct which
implied mystery; but Roland Græme was not of an age or
temper to waste much time in endeavouring to decipher her
meaning. All that was obvious to his perception in the pres-
ent journey promised pleasure and novelty. He rejoiced that
he was travelling towards Edinburgh, in order to assume the
character of a man, and lay aside that of a boy. He was de-
lighted to think that he would have an opportunity of rejoin-
ing Catherine Seyton, whose bright eyes and lively manners
had made so favourable an impression on his imagination; and
as an inexperienced yet high-spirited youth entering for the
first time upon active life, his heart bounded at the thought
that he was about to see all those scenes of courtly splendour
and warlike adventures of which the followers of Sir Halbert
used to boast on their occasional visits to Avenel, to the won-
derment and envy of those who, like Roland, knew courts and
camps only by hearsay, and were condemned to the solitary
sports and almost monastic seclusion of Avenel, surrounded
by its lonely lake and embosomed among its pathless moun-
tains. "They shall mention my name," he said to himself,
"if the risk of my life can purchase me opportunities of dis-
tinction, and Catherine Seyton's saucy eye shall rest with
more respect on the distinguished soldier than that with which
she laughed to scorn the raw and inexperienced page. There
was wanting but one accessory to complete the sense of raptu-
"2
"
--
172
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
rous excitation, and he possessed it by being once more mount
ed on the back of a fiery and active horse, instead of plodding
along on foot, as had been the case during the preceding
days.
Impelled by the liveliness of his own spirits, which so many
circumstances tended naturally to exalt, Roland Græme's voice
and his laughter were soon distinguished amid the trampling
of the horses of the retinue, and more than once attracted the
attention of their leader, who remarked with satisfaction that
the youth replied with good-humoured raillery to such of the
train as jested with him on his dismissal and return to the
service of the house of Avenel.
"I thought the holly-branch in your bonnet had been
blighted, Master Roland?" said one of the men-at-arms.
"Only pinched with half an hour's frost; you see it flour-
ishes as green as ever.
"It is too grave a plant to flourish on so hot a soil as that
headpiece of thine, Master Roland Græme," retorted the
other, who was an old equerry of Sir Halbert Glendinning.
“If it will not flourish alone," said Roland, "I will mix it
with the laurel and the myrtle; and I will carry them so near
the sky that it shall make amends for their stinted growth."
""
Thus speaking, he dashed his spurs into his horse's sides,
and, checking him at the same time, compelled him to execute
a lofty caracole. Sir Halbert Glendinning looked at the de-
meanour of his new attendant with that sort of melancholy
pleasure with which those who have long followed the pursuits
of life, and are sensible of their vanity, regard the gay, young,
and buoyant spirits to whom existence as yet is only hope
and promise.
In the mean while, Adam Woodcock, the falconer, stripped
of his masquing habit, and attired, according to his rank and
calling, in a green jerkin, with a hawking-bag on the one side
and a short hanger on the other, a glove on his left hand
which reached half-way up his arm, and a bonnet and feather
upon his head, came after the party as fast as his active little
Galloway nag could trot, and immediately entered into parley
with Roland Græme.
THE ABBOT.
173
"l
So, my youngster, you are once more under shadow of the
holly-branch?”
66
'And in case to repay you, my good friend," answered Ro-
land, "your ten groats of silver."
"Which, but an hour since," said the falconer, "you had
nearly paid me with ten inches of steel. On my faith, it is
written in the book of our destiny that I must brook your
dagger, after all.”
"Nay, speak not of that, my good friend," said the youth,
"I would rather have broached my own bosom than yours;
but who could have known you in the mumming dress you
wore?"
"Yes," the falconer resumed, for both as a poet and actor
he had his own professional share of self-conceit, "I think I
was as good an Howleglas as ever played part at a Shrovetide
revelry, and not a much worse Abbot of Unreason.
I defy
the Old Enemy to unmasque me when I choose to keep my
vizard on.
What the devil brought the knight on us before
we had the game out? You would have heard me halloo my
own new ballad with a voice should have reached to Berwick.
But I pray you, Master Roland, be less free of cold steel on
slight occasions; since, but for the stuffing of my reverend
doublet, I had only left the kirk to take my place in the
kirkyard."
"Nay, spare me that feud," said Roland Græme, "we shall
have no time to fight it out; by our lord's command, I am
bound for Edinburgh."
"I know it,” said Adam Woodcock, "and even therefore
we shall have time to solder up this rent by the way, for Sir
Halbert has appointed me your companion and guide."
"Ay? and with what purpose?" said the page.
(C
m
That," said the falconer, "is a question I cannot answer;
but I know that, be the food of the eyases washed or un-
washed, and, indeed, whatever becomes of perch and mew, I
am to go with you to Edinburgh, and see you safely delivered
to the Regent at Holyrood."
"How, to the Regent?" said Roland, in surprise.
((
Ay, by my faith, to the Regent," replied Woodcock; "I
}
174
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
{
promise you that, if you are not to enter his service, at least
you are to wait upon him in the character of a retainer of our
Knight of Avenel.”
"I know no right," said the youth, "which the Knight of
Avenel hath to transfer my service, supposing that I owe it
to himself."
"Hush-hush!" said the falconer; "that is a question I
advise no one to stir in until he has the mountain or the
lake, or the march of another kingdom, which is better than
either, betwixt him and his feudal superior."
"But Sir Halbert Glendinning," said the youth, “is not my
feudal superior; nor has he aught of authority—-
99
"I pray you, my son, to rein your tongue," answered Adam
Woodcock; "my lord's displeasure, if you provoke it, will be
worse to appease than my lady's. The touch of his least finger
were heavier than her hardest blow. And, by my faith, he is
a man of steel, as true and as pure, but as hard and as pitiless.
You remember the Cock of Capperlaw, whom he hanged over
his gate for a mere mistake—a poor yoke of oxen taken in
Scotland, when he thought he was taking them in English
land? I loved the Cock of Capperlaw; the Kerrs had not an
honester man in their clan, and they have had men that might
have been a pattern to the Border-men that would not have
lifted under twenty cows at once, and would have held them-
selves dishonoured if they had taken a drift of sheep or the
like, but always managed their raids in full credit and hon-
our. But see, his worship halts, and we are close by the
bridge. Ride up-ride up; we must have his last instruc-
tions."
It was as Adam Woodcock said. In the hollow way de-
scending towards the bridge, which was still in the guardian-
ship of Peter Bridge-Ward, as he was called, though he was
now very old, Sir Halbert Glendinning halted his retinue, and
beckoned to Woodcock and Græme to advance to the head of
the train.
"Woodcock," said he, "thou knowest to whom thou art to
conduct this youth. And thou, young man, obey discreetly
and with diligence the orders that shall be given thee. Curb
+
THE ABBOT.
175
¿
thy vain and peevish temper. Be just, true, and faithful;
and there is in thee that which may raise thee many a degree
above thy present station. Neither shalt thou-always sup-
posing thine efforts to be fair and honest-want the protection
and countenance of Avenel."
Leaving them in front of the bridge, the centre tower of
which now began to cast a prolonged shade upon the river,
the Knight of Avenel turned to the left, without crossing
the river, and pursued his way towards the chain of hills
within whose recesses are situated the Lake and Castle
of Avenel. There remained behind, the falconer, Roland
Græme, and a domestic of the knight, of inferior rank, who
was left with them to look after their horses while on the
road, to carry their baggage, and to attend to their conven-
ience.
So soon as the more numerous body of riders had turned off
to pursue their journey westward, those whose route lay across
the river, and was directed towards the north, summoned the
bridge-ward, and demanded a free passage.
"I will not lower the bridge," answered Peter, in a voice
querulous with age and ill-humour. "Come Parist, come
Protestant, ye are all the same. The Papists threatened us
with purgatory, and fleeched us with pardons; the Prot-
estant mints at us with the sword, and cuittles with the lib-
erty of conscience; but never a one of either says, 'Peter, there
your penny.' I am well tired of all this, and for no man shall
the bridge fall that pays me not ready money; and I would
have you know I care as little for Geneva as for Rome, as
little for homilies as for pardons; and the silver pennies are
the only passports I will hear of."
"Here is a proper old chuff!" said Woodcock to his com-
panion; then raising his voice, he exclaimed: "Hark thee, dog
-bridge-ward-villain, dost thou think we have refused thy
namesake Peter's pence to Rome, to pay thine at the bridge
of Kennaquhair? Let thy bridge down instantly to the fol-
lowers of the house of Avenel, or by the hand of my father,
and that handled many a bridle rein, for he was a biuff York-
shireman-I say, by my father's hand, our knight will blow
·
176
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:
thee out of thy solan-goose's nest there in the middle of the
water, with the light falconet which we are bringing south-
ward from Edinburgh to-morrow."
The bridge-ward heard, and muttered: "A plague on falcon
and falconet, on cannon and demi-cannon, and all the bark-
ing bull-dogs whom they halloo against stone and lime in these
our days! It was a merry time when there was little besides
handy blows, and it may be a flight of arrows that harmed
an ashler wall as little as so many hailstones. But we must
jouk and let the jaw gang by." Comforting himself in his
state of diminished consequence with this pithy old proverb,
Peter Bridge-Ward lowered the drawbridge, and permitted
them to pass over. At the sight of his white hair, albeit it
discovered a visage equally peevish through age and misfor-
tune, Roland was inclined to give him an alms, but Adam
Woodcock prevented him.
"E'en let him pay the penalty
of his former churlishness and greed," he said; "the wolf,
when he has lost his teeth, should be treated no better than
""
a cur.
•
Leaving the bridge-ward to lament the alteration of times,
which sent domineering soldiers and feudal retainers to his
place of passage, instead of peaceful pilgrims, and reduced
him to become the oppressed, instead of playing the extor-
tioner, the travellers turned them northward; and Adam
Woodcock, well acquainted with that part of the country, pro-
posed to cut short a considerable portion of the road by tra-
versing the little vale of Glendearg, so famous for the adven-
tures which befell therein during the earlier part of the
Benedictine's Manuscript. With these, and with the thou-
sand commentaries, representations and misrepresentations to
which they had given rise, Roland Græme was, of course,
well acquainted; for in the Castle of Avenel, as well as in
other great establishments, the inmates talked of nothing so
often, or with such pleasure, as of the private affairs of their
lord and lady. But while Roland was viewing with interest
these haunted scenes, in which things were said to have
passed beyond the ordinary laws of nature, Adam Woodcock
was still regretting in his secret soul the unfinished revel and
THE ABBOT.
177
the unsung ballad, and kept every now and then breaking out
with some such verses as these:
"The friars of Fail drank berry-brown aìe,
The best that e'er was tasted;
The monks of Melrose made gude kale
On Fridays, when they fasted.
St. Monance' sister,
The grey priest kist her—
Fiend save the company!
Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix,
Under the greenwood tree!"
"By my hand, friend Woodcock," said the page, "though
I know you for a hardy Gospeller, that fear neither saint nor
devil, yet, if I were you, I would not sing your profane songs
in this valley of Glendearg, considering what has happened
here before our time."
"A straw for your wandering spirits!" said Adam Wood-
cock; "I mind them no more than an earn cares for a string
of wild geese; they have all fled since the pulpits were filled
with honest men, and the people's ears with sound doctrine.
Nay, I have a touch at them in my ballad, an I had but had
the good luck to have sung it to end"; and again he set off in
the same key:
"From haunted spring and grassy ring
Troop goblin, elf, and fairy;
And the kelpie must flit from the black bog-pit,
And the brownie must not tarry;
To limbo lake
Their way they take,
With scarce the pith to flee.
Sing hay trix, trim-go-trix,
Under the greenwood tree!
I think," he added, "that, could Sir Halbert's patience have
stretched till we came that length, he would have had a hearty
laugh, and that is what he seldom enjoys.”
"If it be all true that men tell of his early life," said Ro-
land, "he has less right to laugh at goblins than most men."
"Ay, if it be all true," answered Adam Woodcock; "but
who can ensure us of that? Moreover, these were but tales
the monks used to gull us simple laymen withal; they knew
that fairies and hobgoblins brought aves and paternosters
12
178
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
into repute; but now we have given up worship of images in
wood and stone, methinks it were no time to be afraid of bub-
bles in the water or shadows in the air."
"However," said Roland Græme, "as the Catholics say
they do not worship wood or stone, but only as emblems of
the holy saints, and not as things holy in themselves"
"Pshaw! pshaw!" answered the falconer; "a rush for their
prating. They told us another story when these baptized idols
of theirs brought pike-staves and sandalled shoon from all the
four winds, and whillied the old women out of their corn and
their candle-ends, and their butter, bacon, wool, and cheese,
and when not so much as a grey groat escaped tithing."
Roland Græme had been long taught, by necessity, to con-
sider his form of religion as a profound secret, and to say
nothing whatever in its defence when assailed, lest he should
draw on himself the suspicion of belonging to the unpopular
and exploded church. He therefore suffered Adam Woodcock
to triumph without farther opposition, marvelling in his own
mind whether any of the goblins, formerly such active agents,
would avenge his rude raillery before they left the valley of
Glendearg. But no such consequences followed. They passed
the night quietly in a cottage in the glen, and the next day
resumed their route to Edinburgh.
CHAPTER XVII.
Edina! Scotia's darling seat,
All hail thy palaces and towers,
Where once, beneath a monarch's feet,
Sate legislation's sovereign powers!
BURNS.
"THIS, then, is Edinburgh?" said the youth, as the fellow-
travellers arrived at one of the heights to the southward,
which commanded a view of the great northern capital-"this
is that Edinburgh of which we have heard so much?"
"Even so," said the falconer; "yonder stands Auld Reekie;
you may see the smoke hover over her at twenty miles' dis-
THE ABBOT.
179
tance, as the goss-hawk hangs over a plump of young wild
ducks; ay, yonder is the heart of Scotland, and each throb
that she gives is felt from the edge of Solway to Duncansbay
Head. See, yonder is the old Castle; and see to the right,
on yon rising ground, that is the Castle of Craigmillar, which
I have known a merry place in my time."
"Was it not there," said the page in a low voice, "that the
Queen held her court?"
"Ay, ay," replied the falconer-"Queen she was then,
though you must not call her so now. Well, they may say
what they will-many a true heart will be sad for Mary
Stuart, e'en if all be true men say of her; for look you, Mas-
ter Roland, she was the loveliest creature to look upon that
I ever saw with eye, and no lady in the land liked better the
fair flight of a falcon. I was at the great match on Roslin
Moor betwixt Bothwell-he was a black sight to her that
Bothwell-and the Baron of Roslin, who could judge a hawk's
flight as well as any man in Scotland: a butt of Rhenish and
a ring of gold was the wager, and it was flown as fairly for as
ever was red gold and bright wine. And to see her there on
her white palfrey, that flew as if it scorned to touch more than
the heather blossom; and to hear her voice, as clear and sweet
as the mavis's whistle, mix among our jolly whooping and
whistling; and to mark all the nobles dashing round her-
happiest he who got a word or a look-tearing through moss
and hag, and venturing neck and limb to gain the praise of a
bold rider, and the blink of a bonny queen's bright eye! She
will see little hawking where she lies now; ay, ay, pomp
and pleasure pass away as speedily as the wap of a falcon's
wing."
"And where is this poor queen now confined?" said Roland
Græme, interested in the fate of a woman whose beauty and
grace had made so strong an impression even on the blunt and
careless character of Adam Woodcock.
"Where is she now imprisoned?" said honest Adam; "why,
in some castle in the north, they say. I know not where, for
my part, nor is it worth while to vex one's self anent what
cannot be mended. An she had guided her power well whilst
180
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
she had it she had not come to so evil a pass. Men say she
must resign her crown to this little baby of a prince, for that
they will trust her with it no longer. Our master has been as
busy as his neighbours in all this work. If the Queen should
come to her own again, Avenel Castle is like to smoke for it,
unless he makes his bargain all the better."
"In a castle in the north Queen Mary is confined?" said
the page.
"Why, ay-they say so, at least. In a castle beyond that
great river which comes down yonder and looks like a river;
but it is a branch of the sea, and as bitter as brine."
"And amongst all her subjects," said the page, with some
emotion, “is there none that will adventure anything for her
relief?"
"That is a kittle question," said the falconer; "and if you
ask it often, Master Roland, I am fain to tell you that you
will be mewed up yourself in one of those castles, if they
do not prefer twisting your head off, to save farther trouble
with you.
Adventure anything! Lord, why, Murray has the
wind in his poop now, man, and flies so high and strong that
the devil a wing of them can match him. No, no; there she
is, and there she must lie, till Heaven send her deliverance,
or till her son has the management of all. But Murray will
never let her loose again, he knows her too well. And hark
thee, we are now bound for Holyrood, where thou will find
plenty of news and of courtiers to tell it. But, take my coun-
sel, and keep a calm sough, as the Scots say: hear every man's
counsel, and keep your own. And if you hap to learn any
news you like, leap not up as if you were to put on armour
direct in the cause. Our old Mr. Wingate says-and he
knows court cattle well-that if you are told old King Coul
is come alive again, you should turn it off with, 'And is he,
in truth? I heard not of it,' and should seem no more moved
than if one told you, by way of novelty, that old King Coul
was dead and buried. Wherefore, look well to your bearing,
Master Roland, for I promise you, you come among a genera-
tion that are keen as a hungry hawk. And never be dagger
out of sheath at every wry word you hear spoken; for you
THE ABBOT.
181
will find as hot blades as yourself, and then will be let-
ting of blood without advice either of leech or almanack.”
"You shall see how staid I will be, and how cautious, my
good friend," said Græme; "but, blessed Lady, what goodly
house is that which is lying all in ruins so close to the city?
Have they been playing at the Abbot of Unreason here, and
ended the gambol by burning the church?"
"There again now," replied his companion, "you go down
the wind like a wild haggard, that minds neither lure nor
beck; that is a question you should have asked in as low a
tone as I shall answer it."
"If I stay here long," said Roland Græme, "it is like I
shall lose the natural use of my voice; but what are the
ruins then?"
66
"The Kirk of Field," said the falconer, in a low and im-
pressive whisper, laying at the same time his finger on his
lip; "ask no more about it; somebody got foul play, and
somebody got the blame of it; and the game began there
which perhaps may not be played out in our time. Poor
Henry Darnley! to be an ass, he understood somewhat of a
hawk! but they sent him on the wing through the air himself
one bright moonlight night."
The memory of this catastrophe was so recent that the page
averted his eyes with horror from the scathed ruins in which it
had taken place; and the accusations against the Queen, to
which it had given rise, came over his mind with such strength
as to balance the compassion he had begun to entertain for her
present forlorn situation.
It was, indeed, with that agitating state of mind which
arises partly from horror, but more from anxious interest and
curiosity, that young Græme found himself actually traversing
the scene of those tremendous events the report of which had
disturbed the most distant solitudes in Scotland, like the
echoes of distant thunder rolling among the mountains.
"Now," he thought "now or never shall I become a man,
and bear my part in those deeds which the simple inhabitants
of our hamlets repeat to each other as if they were wrought
by beings of a superior order to their own! I will know now
182
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
wherefore the Knight of Avenel carries his crest so much
above those of the neighbouring baronage, and how it is that
men, by valour and wisdom, work their way from the hodden-
grey coat to the cloak of scarlet and gold. Men say I have
not much wisdom to recommend me; and if that be true, cour-
age must do it; for I will be a man amongst living men, or a
dead corpse amongst the dead.”
From these dreams of ambition he turned his thoughts to
those of pleasure, and began to form many conjectures when
and where he should see Catherine Seyton, and in what man-
ner their acquaintance was to be renewed. With such conjec-
tures he was amusing himself, when he found that they had
entered the city, and all other feelings were suspended in the
sensation of giddy astonishment with which an inhabitant of
the country is affected when, for the first time, he finds him-
self in the streets of a large and populous city, an unit in the
midst of thousands.
C
The principal street of Edinburgh was then, as now, one of
the most spacious in Europe. The extreme height of the
houses, and the variety of Gothic gables, and battlements, and
balconies, by which the sky-line on each side was crowned
and terminated, together with the width of the street itself,
might have struck with surprise a more practised eye than
that of young Græme. The population, close packed within
the walls of the city, and at this time increased by the num-
ber of the lords of the King's party who had thronged to Edin-
burgh to wait upon the Regent Murray, absolutely swarmed
like bees on the wide and stately street. Instead of the shop-
windows, which are now calculated for the display of goods,
the traders had their open booths projecting on the street, in
which, as in the fashion of the modern bazars, all was exposed
which they had upon sale. And though the commodities were
not of the richest kinds, yet Græme thought he beheld the
wealth of the whole world in the various bales of Flanders
cloths and the specimens of tapestry; and at other places the
display of domestic utensils and pieces of plate struck him with
wonder. The sight of cutlers' booths, furnished with swords
and poniards, which were manufactured in Scotland, and with
-
THE ABBOT.
183
pieces of defensive armour, imported from Flanders, added
to his surprise; and at every step he found so much to admire
and to gaze upon that Adam Woodcock had no little difficulty
in prevailing on him to advance through such a scene of en-
chantment.
The sight of the crowds which filled the streets was equally
a subject of wonder. Here a gay lady, in her muffler or silk-
en veil, traced her way delicately, a gentleman-usher making
way for her, a page bearing up her train, and a waiting gen-
tlewoman carrying her Bible, thus intimating that her pur-
pose was towards the church. There he might see a group of
citizens bending the same way, with their short Flemish cloaks,
wide trowsers and high-caped doublets-a fashion to which, as
well as to their bonnet and feather, the Scots were long faith-
ful. Then, again, came the clergyman himself, in his black
Geneva cloak and band, lending a grave and attentive ear to
the discourse of several persons who accompanied him, and
who were doubtless holding serious converse on the religious
subject he was about to treat of.
Nor did there lack passen-
gers of a different class and appearance.
At every turn, Roland Græme might see a gallant ruffle
along in the newer or French mode, his doublet slashed, and
his points of the same colours with the lining, his long sword
on one side, and his poniard on the other, behind him a body
of stout serving-men, proportioned to his estate and quality,
all of whom walked with the air of military retainers, and
were armed with sword and buckler, the latter being a small
round shield, not unlike the Highland target, having a steel
spike in the centre. Two of these parties, each headed by a
person of importance, chanced to meet in the very centre of
the street, or, as it was called, "the crown of the causeway".
a post of honour as tenaciously asserted in Scotland as that of
giving or taking the wall used to be in the more southern part
of the island. The two leaders being of equal rank, and,
most probably, either animated by political dislike or by rec-
ollection of some feudal enmity, marched close up to each other,
without yielding an inch to the right or the left; and neither
showing the least purpose of giving way, they stopped for an
184
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
instant, and then drew their swords. Their followers imitated
their example; about a score of weapons at once flashed in
the sun, and there was an immediate clatter of swords and
bucklers, while the followers on either side cried their mas-
ter's name: the one shouting, "Help, a Leslie!-a Leslie!"
while the other answered with shouts of "Seyton!-Seyton!"
with the additional punning slogan, "Set on-set on; bear the
knaves to the ground!"
If the falconer found difficulty in getting the page to go
forward before, it was now perfectly impossible. He reined
up his horse, clapped his hands, and, delighted with the fray,
cried and shouted as fast as any of those who were actually
engaged in it.
The noise and cries thus arising on the Highgate, as it was
called, drew into the quarrel two or three other parties of
gentlemen and their servants, besides some single passengers,
who, hearing a fray betwixt these two distinguished names,
took part in it, either for love or hatred.
The combat became now very sharp, and although the
sword-and-buckler men made more clatter and noise than they
did real damage, yet several good cuts were dealt among them;
and those who wore rapiers—a more formidable weapon than
the ordinary Scottish sword-gave and received dangerous
wounds. Two men were already stretched on the causeway,
and the party of Seyton began to give ground, being much in-
ferior in number to the other, with which several of the citizens
had united themselves, when young Roland Græme, behold-
ing their leader, a noble gentleman, fighting bravely, and hard
pressed with numbers, could withhold no longer. "Adam
Woodcock," he said, "an you be a man, draw, and let us take
part with the Seyton." And, without waiting a reply, or lis-
tening to the falconer's earnest entreaty that he would leave
alone a strife in which he had no concern, the fiery youth
sprung from his horse, drew his short sword, and shouting like
the rest, "A Seyton!-a Seyton! Set on!-set on!" thrust for-
ward into the throng, and struck down one of those who was
pressing hardest upon the gentleman whose cause he espoused.
This sudden reinforcement gave spirit to the weaker party,
-

TRANKA MATCH
WOWUMINAN
=3
Falcon Flas
Flamany
RANTY
SHIONS TUVAL
"A Seyton! A Seyton! Set on! Set on!'"
消え​たい
​Abbot, Chap. xvii., p. 184.
THE ABBOT.
185
who began to renew the combat with much alacrity, when four
of the magistrates of the city, distinguished by their velvet
cloaks and gold chains, came up with a guard of halberdiers
and citizens, armed with long weapons, and well accustomed
to such service, thrust boldly forward, and compelled the
swordsmen to separate, who immediately retreated in differ-
ent directions, leaving such of the wounded on both sides as
had been disabled in the fray lying on the street.
The falconer, who had been tearing his beard for anger at
his comrade's rashness, now rode up to him with the horse,
which he had caught by the bridle, and accosted him with
"Master Roland-master goose-master madcap-will it please
you to get on horse, and budge? or will you remain here to be
carried to prison, and made to answer for this pretty day's
work?"
The page, who had begun his retreat along with the Sey-
tons, just as if he had been one of their natural allies, was by
this unceremonious application made sensible that he was act-
ing a foolish part; and, obeying Adam Woodcock, with some
sense of shame, he sprung actively on horseback, and upset-
ting with the shoulder of the animal a city-officer who was
making towards him, he began to ride smartly down the street
along with his companion, and was quickly out of the reach of
the hue and cry.
In fact, rencounters of the kind were so com-
mon in Edinburgh at that period that the disturbance seldom
excited much attention after the affray was over, unless some
person of consequence chanced to have fallen, an incident
which imposed on his friends the duty of avenging his death
on the first convenient opportunity. So feeble, indeed, was
the arm of the police, that it was not unusual for such skir-
mishes to last for hours, where the parties were numerous and
well matched. But at this time the Regent, a man of great
strength of character, aware of the mischief which usually
arose from such acts of violence, had prevailed with the mag-
istrates to keep a constant guard on foot, for preventing or
separating such affrays as had happened in the present case.
The falconer and his young companion were now riding
down the Canongate, and had slackened their pace to avoid
186
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
attracting attention, the rather that there seemed to be no ap-
pearance of pursuit. Roland hung his head as one who was
conscious his conduct had been none of the wisest, while his
companion thus addressed him:
"Will you be pleased to tell me one thing, Master Roland
Græme, and that is, whether there be a devil incarnate in you
or no?"
"Truly, Master Adam Woodcock," answered the page, "I
would fain hope there is not."
"Then," said Adam, "I would fain know by what other
influence or instigation you are perpetually at one end or the
other of some bloody brawl? What, I pray, had you to do
with these Seytons and Leslies, that you never heard the
names of in your life before?”
"You are out there, my friend," said Roland Græme, "I
have my own reasons for being a friend to the Seytons.”
"They must have been very secret reasons, then," answered
Adam Woodcock, "for I think I could have wagered you had
never known one of the name; and I am apt to believe still
that it was your unhallowed passion for that clashing of cold
iron, which has as much charm for you as the clatter of a
brass pan hath for a hive of bees, rather than any care either
for Seyton or for Leslie, that persuaded you to thrust your fool's
head into a quarrel that nowise concerned you. But take this
for a warning, my young master, that if you are to draw
sword with every man who draws sword on the Highgate here,
it will be scarce worth your while to sheath bilbo again for the
rest of your life, since, if I guess rightly, it will scarce endure
on such terms for many hours-all which I leave to your seri-
ous consideration."
"By my word, Adam, I honour your advice; and I promise
you that I will practise by it as faithfully as if I were sworn
apprentice to you, to the trade and mystery of bearing myself
with all wisdom and safety through the new paths of lire that
I am about to be engaged in."
"And therein you will do well," said the falconer, "and I
do not quarrel with you, Master Roland, for having a grain
over much spirit, because I know one may bring to the hand
↓
THE ABBOT.
187
•
-
a wild hawk, which one never can a dunghill hen; and so be-
twixt two faults you have the best side on't. But, besides
your peculiar genius for quarrelling and lugging out your side
companion, my dear Master Roland, you have also the gift of
peering under every woman's muffler and screen, as if you ex-
pected to find an old acquaintance. Though, were you to spy
one, I should be as much surprised at it, well wotting how
few you have seen of these same wild-fowl, as I was at your
taking so deep an interest even now in the Seyton."
"Tush, man! nonsense and folly," answered Roland Græme;
"I but sought to see what eyes these gentle hawks have got
under their hood."
66
"Ay, but it's a dangerous subject of inquiry," said the fal-
coner; you had better hold out your bare wrist for an eagle
to perch upon. Look you, Master Roland, these pretty wild
geese cannot be hawked at without risk: they have as many
divings, boltings, and volleyings as the most gamesome quarry
that falcon ever flew at. And besides, every woman of them
is manned with her husband, or her kind friend, or her
brother, or her cousin, or her sworn servant at the least. But
you heed me not, Master Roland, though I know the game so
well: your eye is all on that pretty damsel who trips down the
gate before us; by my certes, I will warrant her a blythe dancer
either in reel or revel- a pair of silver morisco bells would be-
come these pretty ankles as well as the jesses would suit the
fairest Norway hawk.
"2
(6
Thou art a fool, Adam," said the page, "and I care not a
button about the girl or her ankles. But, what the foul fiend,
one must look at something!"
"Very true, Master Roland Græme," said his guide, “but
let me pray you to choose your objects better. Look you,
there is scarce a woman walks this Highgate with a silk
screen or a pearlin muffler, but, as I said before, she has
either gentleman-usher before her, or kinsman, or lover, or
husband, at her elbow, or it may be a brace of stout fellows.
with sword and buckler, not so far behind but what they can
follow close. But you heed me no more than a goss-hawk
minds a yellow yoldring."
188
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
!
"Oh yes, I do--I do mind you indeed," said Roland Græme;
"but hold my nag a bit-I will be with you in the exchange of
a whistle." So saying, and ere Adam Woodcock could finish
the sermon which was dying on his tongue, Roland Græme,
to the falconer's utter astonishment, threw him the bridle of
his jennet, jumped off horseback, and pursued down one of
the closes or narrow lanes, which, opening under a vault,
terminate upon the main street, the very maiden to whom his
friend had accused him of showing so much attention, and
who had turned down the pass in question.
"St. Mary-St. Magdalen-St. Benedict-St. Barnabas!"
cried the poor falconer, when he found himself thus suddenly
brought to a pause in the midst of the Canongate, and saw his
young charge start off like a madman in quest of a damsel
whom he had never, as Adam supposed, seen in his life be-
fore—“St. Satan and St. Beelzebub-for this would make one
swear saint and devil-what can have come over the lad with
a wanion! And what shall I do the whilst? He will have
his throat cut, the poor lad, as sure as I was born at the foot
of Roseberry Topping. Could I find some one to hold the
horses! But they are as sharp here north-away as in canny
Yorkshire herself, and quit bridle, quit titt, as we say. An I
could but see one of our folks now, a holly-sprig were worth
a gold tassel; or could I but see one of the Regent's men; but
to leave the horses to a stranger, that I cannot; and to leave
the place while the lad is in jeopardy, that I wonot.”
We must leave the falconer, however, in the midst of his
distress, and follow the hot-headed youth who was the cause
of his perplexity.
The latter part of Adam Woodcock's sage remonstrance had
been in a great measure lost upon Roland, for whose benefit it
was intended; because, in one of the female forms which
tripped along the street, muffled in a veil of striped silk, like
the women of Brussels at this day, his eye had discerned some-
thing which closely resembled the exquisite shape and spirited
bearing of Catherine Seyton. During all the grave advice
which the falconer was dinning into his ear, his eye continued
intent upon so interesting an object of observation; and at
THE ABBOT.
189
length, as the damsel, just about to dive under one of the
arched passages which afforded an outlet to the Canongate
from the houses beneath (a passage graced by a projecting
shield of arms, supported by two huge foxes of stone), had
lifted her veil for the purpose perhaps of descrying who the
horseman was who for some time had eyed her so closely,
young Roland saw, under the shade of the silken plaid, enough
of the bright azure eyes, fair locks, and blythe features to in-
duce him, like an inexperienced and rash madcap, whose wil-
ful ways had never been traversed by contradiction, nor much
subjected to consideration, to throw the bridle of his horse
into Adam Woodcock's hand, and leave him to play the wait-
ing gentleman, while he dashed down the paved court after
Catherine Seyton-all as aforesaid.
Women's wits are proverbially quick, but apparently those
of Catherine suggested no better expedient than fairly to be-
take herself to speed of foot, in hopes of baffling the page's
vivacity, by getting safely lodged before he could discover
where. But a youth of eighteen, in pursuit of a mistress, is
not so easily outstripped. Catherine fled across a paved court,
decorated with large formal vases of stone, in which yews,
cypresses, and other evergreens vegetated in sombre sullen-
ness, and gave a correspondent degree of solemnity to the high
and heavy building in front of which they were placed as
ornaments, aspiring towards a square portion of the blue hemi-
sphere, corresponding exactly in extent to the quadrangle in
which they were stationed, and all around which rose huge
black walls, exhibiting windows in rows of five stories, with
heavy architraves over each, bearing armorial and religious
devices.
Through this court Catherine Seyton flashed like a hunted
doe, making the best use of those pretty legs which had at-
tracted the commendation even of the reflective and cautious
Adam Woodcock. She hastened towards a large door in the
centre of the lower front of the court, pulled the bobbin till
the latch flew up, and ensconced herself in the ancient man-
sion. But, if she fled like a doe, Roland Græme followed
with the speed and ardour of a youthful staghound, loosed
190
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
I
for the first time on his prey. He kept her in view in spite
of her efforts; for it is remarkable what an advantage in such
a race the gallant who desires to see possesses over the maiden
who wishes not to be seen-an advantage which I have known
counterbalance a great start in point of distance. In short,
he saw the waving of her screen, or veil, at one corner, heard
the tap of her foot, light as that was, as it crossed the court,
and caught a glimpse of her figure just as she entered the door
of the mansion.
Roland Græme, inconsiderate and headlong as we have de-
scribed him, having no knowledge of real life but from the
romances which he had read, and not an idea of checking
himself in the midst of any eager impulse, possessed, besides,
of much courage and readiness, never hesitated for a moment
to approach the door through which the object of his search
had disappeared. He too pulled the bobbin, and the latch,
though heavy and massive, answered to the summons, and
arose. The page entered with the same precipitation which
had marked his whole proceeding, and found himself in a
large gloomy hall, or vestibule, dimly enlightened by latticed
casements of painted glass, and rendered yet dimmer through
the exclusion of the sunbeams, owing to the height of the
walls of those buildings by which the courtyard was inclosed.
The walls of the hall were surrounded with suits of ancient
and rusted armour, interchanged with huge and massive stone
scutcheons, bearing double tressures, fleured and counter-
fleured, wheat-sheaves, coronets, and so forth-things to
which Roland Græme gave not a moment's attention.
In fact, he only deigned to observe the figure of Catherine
Seyton, who, deeming herself safe in the hall, had stopped to
take breath after her course, and was reposing herself for a
moment on a large oaken settle which stood at the upper end
of the hall. The noise of Roland's entrance at once disturbed
her; she started up with a faint scream of surprise, and es-
caped through one of the several folding-doors which opened
into this apartment as a common centre. This door, which
Roland Græme instantly approached, opened on a large and
well-lighted gallery, at the upper end of which he could hear
THE ABBOT.
191
several voices, and the noise of hasty steps approaching towards
the hall, or vestibule. A little recalled to sober thought by an
appearance of serious danger, he was deliberating whether he
should stand fast or retire, when Catherine Seyton re-entered
from a side door, running towards him with as much speed as
a few minutes since she had fled from him.
،، Oh, what mischief brought you hither?" she said.
"Fly-
fly, or you are a dead man; or stay-they come-flight is im-
possible; say you came to ask for Lord Seyton."
W
She sprung from him and disappeared through the door by
which she had made her second appearance; and, at the same
instant, a pair of large folding-doors at the upper end of the
gallery flew open with vehemence, and six or seven young
gentlemen, richly dressed, pressed forward into the apart-
ment, having, for the greater part, their swords drawn.
(6
Who is it," said one, "dare intrude on us in our own
mansion?"
"Cut him to pieces," said another; "let him pay for this
day's insolence and violence; he is some follower of the
Rothes."
"No, by St. Mary's," said another; "he is a follower of
the arch-fiend and ennobled clown, Halbert Glendinning, who
takes the style of Avenel-once a church-vassal, now a pillager
of the church."
"It is so," said a fourth; "I know him by the holly-sprig,
which is their cognizance. Secure the door; he must answer
for this insolence."
OD
Two of the gallants, hastily drawing their weapons, passed
on to the door by which Roland had entered the hall, and sta-
tioned themselves there as if to prevent his escape. The
others advanced on Græme, who had just sense enough to per-
ceive that any attempt at resistance would be alike fruitless and
imprudent. At once, and by various voices, none of which
sounded amicably, the page was required to say who he was,
whence he came, his name, his errand, and who sent him
hither. The number of the questions demanded of him at
once afforded a momentary apology for his remaining silent,
and ere that brief truce had elapsed a personage entered the
-
192
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
hall, at whose appearance those who had gathered fiercely
around Roland fell back with respect.
This was a tall man, whose dark hair was already grizzled,
though his eye and haughty features retained all the animation
of youth. The upper part of his person was undressed to his
Holland shirt, whose ample folds were stained with blood.
But he wore a mantle of crimson, lined with rich fur, cast
around him, which supplied the deficiency of his dress. On
his head he had a crimson velvet bonnet, looped up on one
side with a small golden chain of many links, which, going
thrice round the hat, was fastened by a medal, agreeable to
the fashion amongst the grandees of the time.
"Whom have you here, sons and kinsmen," said he, "around
whom you crowd thus roughly? Know you not that the shelter
of this roof should secure every one fair treatment who shall
come hither either in fair peace or in open and manly hos-
tility?"
"But here, my lord," answered one of the youths, "is a
knave who comes on treacherous espial!"
"I deny the charge," said Roland Græme, boldly; "I came
to inquire after my Lord Seyton."
"A likely tale," answered his accusers, "in the mouth of a
follower of Glendinning."
"Stay, young men," said the Lord Seyton, for it was that
nobleman himself, "let me look at this youth. By Heaven, it
is the very same who came so boldly to my side not very many
minutes since, when some of my own knaves bore themselves
with more respect to their own worshipful safety than to mine!
Stand back from him, for he well deserves honour and a friend-
ly welcome at your hands, instead of this rough treatment."
They fell back on all sides, obedient to Lord Seyton's com-
mands, who, taking Roland Græme by the hand, thanked him
for his prompt and gallant assistance, adding, that he nothing
doubted "the same interest which he had taken in his cause
in the affray brought him hither to inquire after his hurt."
Roland bowed low in acquiescence.
"Or is there anything in which I can serve you, to show my
sense of your ready gallantry?”
THE ABBOT.
193
But the page, thinking it best to abide by the apology for
his visit which the Lord Seyton had so aptly himself sug-
gested, replied, "That to be assured of his lordship's safety
had been the only cause of his intrusion. He judged," he
added, “he had seen him receive some hurt in the affray.”
"A trifle," said Lord Seyton; "I had but stripped my
doublet, that the chirurgeon might put some dressing on the
paltry scratch, when these rash boys interrupted us with their
clamour.
""
Roland Græme, making a low obeisance, was now about to
depart, for, relieved from the danger of being treated as a spy,
he began next to fear that his companion, Adam Woodcock,
whom he had so unceremoniously quitted, would either bring
him into some farther dilemma by venturing into the hotel in
quest of him, or ride off and leave him behind altogether.
But Lord Seyton did not permit him to escape so easily.
Tarry," he said, "young man, and let me know thy rank
and name. The Seyton has of late been more wont to see
friends and followers shrink from his side than to receive aid
from strangers; but a new world may come round, in which
he may have the chance of rewarding his well-wishers."
(6
"My name is Roland Græme, my lord," answered the
youth, a page, who for the present is in the service of Sir
Halbert Glendinning."
(6
"I said so from the first," said one of the young men; "my
life I will wager that this is a shaft out of the heretic's quiver
a stratagem from first to last, to injeer into your confidence
some espial of his own. They know how to teach both boys
and women to play the intelligencers."
"That is false, if it be spoken of me," said Roland; "no
man in Scotland should teach me such a foul part!"
"I believe thee, boy," said Lord Seyton, "for thy strokes.
were too fair to be dealt upon an understanding with those
that were to receive them. Credit me, however, I little ex-
pected to have help at need from one of your master's house-
hold; and I would know what moved thee in my quarrel, to
thine own endangering?"
-
"So please you, my lord," said Roland, "I think my master
13
194
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
himself would not have stood by and seen an honourable man
borne to earth by odds, if his single arm could help him.
Such at least is the lesson we were taught in chivalry at the
Castle of Avenel."
"The good seed hath fallen into good ground, young man,
said Seyton; "but, alas! if thou practise such honourable
war in these dishonourable days, when right is everywhere
borne down by mastery, thy life, my poor boy, will be but a
short one."
"Let it be short, so it be honourable," said Roland Græme;
"and permit me now, my lord, to commend me to your grace,
and to take my leave. A comrade waits with my horse in the
street."
29
"Take this, however, young man," said Lord Seyton,' un-
doing from his bonnet the golden chain and medal, "and wear
it for my sake."
With no little pride Roland Græme accepted the gift, which
he hastily fastened around his bonnet, as he had seen gallants
wear such an ornament, and, renewing his obeisance to the
baron, left the hall, traversed the court, and appeared in the
street, just as Adam Woodcock, vexed and anxious at his de-
lay, had determined to leave the horses to their fate and go in
quest of his youthful comrade. "Whose barn hast thou broken
next?" he exclaimed, greatly relieved by his appearance, al-
though his countenance indicated that he had passed through
an agitating scene.
"Ask me no questions," said Roland, leaping gaily on his
horse;
"but see how short time it takes to win a chain of
gold," pointing to that which he now wore.
"Now, God forbid that thou hast either stolen it or reft it by
violence," said the falconer; "for otherwise, I wot not how the
devil thou couldst compass it. I have been often here, ay, for
months at an end, and no one gave me either chain or medal.”
“Thou seest I have got one on shorter acquaintance with the
city,” answered the page; "but set thine honest heart at rest:
that which is fairly won and freely given is neither reft nor
stolen."
•
1 See Note 13.
THE ABBOT.
195
"Marry, hang thee, with thy fanfarona' about thy neck!"
said the falconer; "I think water will not drown nor hemp
strangle thee. Thou hast been discarded as my lady's page,
to come in again as my lord's squire; and, for following a
noble young damsel into some great household, thou getst a
chain and medal, where another would have had the baton
across his shoulders, if he missed having the dirk in his body.
But here we come in front of the old abbey. Bear thy good
luck with you when you cross these paved stones, and, by
Our Lady, you may brag Scotland."
As he spoke, they checked their horses, where the huge old
vaulted entrance to the Abbey or Palace of Holyrood crossed
the termination of the street down which they had proceeded.
The courtyard of the palace opened within this gloomy porch,
showing the front of an irregular pile of monastic buildings,
one wing of which is still extant, forming a part of the modern
palace, erected in the days of Charles I.
At the gate of the porch the falconer and page resigned
their horses to the serving-man in attendance; the falconer
commanding him, with an air of authority, to carry them
safely to the stables. "We follow," he said, "the Knight of
Avenel. We must bear ourselves for what we are here," said
he in a whisper to Roland, "for every one here is looked on as
they demean themselves; and he that is too modest must to
the wall, as the proverb says; therefore, cock thy bonnet,
man, and let us brook the causeway bravely.'
Assuming, therefore, an air of consequence corresponding
to what he supposed to be his master's importance and quality,
Adam Woodcock led the way into the courtyard of the Palace
of Holyrood.
1 See Note 14.
در
196
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The sky is clouded, Gaspard,
And the vex'd ocean sleeps a troubled sleep,
Beneath a lurid gleam of parting sunshine.
Such slumber hangs o'er discontented lands,
While factions doubt, as yet, if they have strength
To front the open battle..
Albion, a Poem.
66
THE youthful page paused on the entrance of the courtyard,
and implored his guide to give him a moment's breathing-
Let me but look around me, man," said he; "you
space.
consider not I have never seen such a scene as this before.
And this is Holyrood-the resort of the gallant and gay, and
the fair, and the wise, and the powerful!"
66
'Ay, marry, is it!" said Woodcock; "but I wish I could
hood thee as they do the hawks, for thou starest as wildly as
if you sought another fray or another fanfarona. I would I
had thee safely housed, for thou lookest wild as a goss-hawk.”
It was indeed no common sight to Roland, the vestibule of
a palace, traversed by its various groups-some radiant with
gaiety, some pensive, and apparently weighed down by affairs
concerning the state or concerning themselves. Here the
hoary statesman, with his cautious yet commanding look, his
furred cloak and sable pantoufles; there the soldier, in buff
and steel, his long sword jarring against the pavement, and
his whiskered upper lip and frowning brow looking a habitual
defiance of danger which perhaps was not always made good;
there again passed my lord's serving-man, high of heart and
bloody of hand, humble to his master and his master's equals,
insolent to all others. To these might be added, the poor
suitor, with his anxious look and depressed mien; the officer,
full of his brief authority, elbowing his betters, and possibly
his benefactors, out of the road; the proud priest, who sought
a better benefice; the proud baron, who sought a grant of church
lands; the robber chief, who came to solicit a pardon for the
injuries he had, inflicted on his neighbours; the plundered
THE ABBOT.
197
franklin, who came to seek vengeance for that which he had
himself received. Besides, there was the mustering and dis-
position of guards and soldiers; the despatching of messengers,
and the receiving them; the trampling and neighing of horses
without the gate; the flashing of arms, and rustling of plumes,
and jingling of spurs, within it. It short, it was that gay and
splendid confusion in which the eye of youth sees all that is
brave and brilliant, and that of experience much that is doubt-
ful, deceitful, false, and hollow-hopes that will never be
gratified, promises which will never be fulfilled, pride in the
disguise of humility, and insolence in that of frank and gen-
erous bounty.
As, tired of the eager and enraptured attention which the
page gave to a scene so new to him, Adam Woodcock endeav-
oured to get him to move forward, before his exuberance of
astonishment should attract the observation of the sharp-witted
denizens of the court, the falconer himself became an object
of attention to a gay menial in a dark-green bonnet and
feather, with a cloak of a corresponding colour, laid down, as
the phrase then went, by six broad bars of silver lace, and
welted with violet and silver. The words of recognition burst
from both at once. "What! Adam Woodcock at court!" and
What! Michael Wing-the-Wind-and how runs the hackit
greyhound bitch now?"
"The waur for the wear, like ourselves, Adam,-eight years
this grass-no four legs will carry a dog for ever; but we keep
her for the breed, and so she 'scapes Border doom. But why
stand you gazing there? I promise you, my lord has wished
for you, and asked for you.”
"My Lord of Murray asked for me, and he Regent of the
kingdom too!" said Adam. "I hunger and thirst to pay my
duty to my good lord; but I fancy his good lordship remem-
bers the day's sport on Carnwath Moor; and my Drummel-
zier falcon, that beat the hawks from the Isle of Man, and
won his lordship a hundred crowns from the Southern baron
whom they called Stanley."
"Nay, not to flatter thee, Adam," said his court friend, "he
remembers nought of thee, or of thy falcon either. He hath
198
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
·
flown many a higher flight since that, and struck his quarry
too. But come—come hither away; I trust we are to be good
comrades on the old score.
"What!" said Adam, "you would have me crush a pot with
you? but I must first dispose of my eyas, where he will neither
have girl to chase nor lad to draw sword upon.
""
(6
'Is the youngster such a one?" said Michael.
"Ay, by my hood, he flies at all game," replied Woodcock.
"Then had he better come with us," said Michael Wing-the-
Wind; "for we cannot have a proper carouse just now, only I
would wet my lips, and so must you.
I want to hear the news
from St. Mary's before you see my lord, and I will let you
know how the wind sits up yonder."
While he thus spoke, he led the way to a side door which
opened into the court; and threading several dark passages
with the air of one who knew the most secret recesses of the
palace, conducted them to a small matted chamber, where he
placed bread and cheese and a foaming flagon of ale before
the falconer and his young companion, who immediately did
justice to the latter in a hearty draught, which nearly emptied
the measure. Having drawn his breath, and dashed the froth
from his whiskers, he observed, that his anxiety for the boy
had made him deadly dry.
"Mend your draught," said his hospitable friend, again
supplying the flagon from a pitcher which stood beside. "I
know the way to the buttery-bar. And now, mind what I
say. This morning the Earl of Morton came to my lord in a
mighty chafe."
66
What! they keep the old friendship, then?" said Wood-
cock.
"Ay, ay, man, what else?" said Michael; "one hand must
scratch the other. But in a mighty chafe was my Lord of
Morton, who, to say truth, looketh on such occasions alto-
gether uncanny, and, as it were, fiendish; and he says to my
lord-for I was in the chamber taking orders about a cast of
hawks that are to be fetched from Darnaway; they match
your long-winged falcons, friend Adam.”
"I will believe that when I see them fly as high a pitch,”
THE ABBOT.
199
replied Woodcock, this professional observation forming a sort
of parenthesis.
However," said Michael, pursuing his tale, "my Lord of
Morton, in a mighty chafe, asked my Lord Regent whether he
was well dealt with: 'For my brother,' said he, 'should have
had a gift to be commendator of Kennaquhair, and to have
all the temporalities erected into a lordship of regality for his
berefit; and here,' said he, 'the false monks have had the
insolence to choose a new abbot to put his claim in my broth-
er's way; and, moreover, the rascality of the neighbourhood
have burnt and plundered all that was left in the abbey, so
that my brother will not have a house to dwell in when he
hath ousted the lazy hounds of priests.' And my lord, see-
ing him chafed, said mildly to him: 'These are shrewd tidings,
Douglas, but I trust they be not true; for Halbert Glendinning
went southward yesterday with a band of spears, and assured-
ly, had either of these chances happened, that the monks had
presumed to choose an abbot, or that the abbey had been
burnt, as you say, he had taken order on the spot for the
punishment of such insolence, and had despatched us a mes-
senger.' And the Earl of Morton replied-
Now I pray
you, Adam, to notice that I say this out of love to you and
your lord, and also for old comradeship; and also because Sir
Halbert hath done me good, and may again; and also because
I love not the Earl of Morton, as indeed more fear than like
him- so then it were a foul deed in you to betray me.—'But,'
said the Earl to the Regent, 'take heed, my lord, you trust
not this Glendinning too far: he comes of churl's blood, which
was never true to the nobles.' By St. Andrew, these were
his very words. 'And besides,' he said, 'he hath a brother a
monk in St. Mary's, and walks all by his guidance, and is
making friends on the Border with Buccleuch and with Fernie-
herst,' and will join hand with them, were there likelihood
of a new world.' And my lord answered, like a free noble
lord as he is: "Tush! my Lord of Morton, I will be warrant
for Glendinning's faith; and for his brother, he is a dreamer,
that thinks of nought but book and breviary; and if such hap
1 Both these Border chieftains were great friends of Queen Mary.
200
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
have chanced as you tell of, I look to receive from Glendinning
the cowl of a hanged monk, and the head of a riotous churl,
by way of sharp and sudden justice..' And my Lord of Mor-
ton left the place, and, as it seemed to me, somewhat malcon-
tent. But since that time my lord has asked me more than
once whether there has arrived no messenger from the Knight
of Avenel. And all this I have told you that you may frame
your discourse to the best purpose, for it seems to me that my
lord will not be well pleased if aught has happened like what
my Lord of Morton said, and if your lord hath not ta'en strict
orders with it."
There was something in this communication which fairly
blanked the bold visage of Adam Woodcock, in spite of the
reinforcement which his natural hardihood had received from
the berry-brown ale of Holyrood.
"What was it he said about a churl's head, that grim Lord
of Morton?" said the disconcerted falconer to his friend.
Nay, it was my Lord Regent, who said that he expected,
if the abbey was injured, your knight would send him the head
of the ringleader among the rioters."
"(
"Nay, but is this done like a good Protestant," said Adam
Woodcock, "or a true Lord of the Congregation? We used
to be their white-boys and darlings when we pulled down the
convents in Fife and Perthshire."
"Ay, but that," said Michael, "was when old mother Rome
held her own, and her [the] great folks were determined she
should have no shelter for her head in Scotland. But, now
that the priests are fled in all quarters, and their houses and
lands are given to our grandees, they cannot see that we are
working the work of reformation in destroying the palaces of
zealous Protestants.'
رو
"But I tell you St. Mary's is not destroyed!" said Wood-
cock, in increasing agitation; "some trash of painted win-
dows there were broken-things that no nobleman could have
brooked in his house; some stone saints were brought on their
marrow-bones, like old Widdrington at Chevy Chase; but as
for fire-raising, there was not so much as a lighted lunt
amongst us, save the match which the dragon had to light the
THE ABBOT.
201
burning tow withal, which he was to spit against St. George;
nay, I had caution of that.
""
"How! Adam Woodcock," said his comrade, "I trust thou
hadst no hand in such a fair work? Look you, Adam, I were
loth to terrify you, and you just come from a journey; but I
promise you, Earl Morton had brought you down a ‘maiden,'
from Halifax, you never saw the like of her; and she'll clasp
you round the neck, and your head will remain in her arms.
"9
"Pshaw!" answered Adam, "I am too old to have my head
turned by any maiden of them all. I know my Lord of Mor-
ton will go as far for a buxom lass as any one; but what the
devil took him to Halifax all the way? and if he has got a
gamester there, what hath she to do with my head?"
“Much—much!” answered Michael. "Herod's daughter,
who did such execution with her foot and ankle, danced not
men's heads off more cleanly than this maiden of Morton.'
'Tis an axe, man-an axe which falls of itself like a sash
window, and never gives the headsman the trouble to wield it.”
"By my faith, a shrewd device," said Woodcock; "Heaven
keep us free on't!”
The page, seeing no end to the conversation between these
two old comrades, and anxious, from what he had heard, con-
cerning the fate of the abbot, now interrupted their confer-
ence.
"Methinks," he said, "Adam Woodcock, thou hadst better
deliver thy master's letter to the Regent; questionless he hath
therein stated what has chanced at Kennaquhair, in the way
most advantageous for all concerned."
"The boy is right," said Michael Wing-the-Wind, "my
lord will be very impatient."
“The child hath wit enough to keep himself warm,” said
Adam Woodcock, producing from his hawking-bag his lord's
letter, addressed to the Earl of Murray, "and for that matter
so have I. So, Master Roland, you will e'en please to pre-
sent this yourself to the Lord Regent; his presence will be
better graced by a young page than by an old falconer."
"Well said, canny Yorkshire!" replied his friend; "and
1 See Note 15.
202
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
but now you were so earnest to see our good lord! Why,
wouldst thou put the lad into the noose that thou mayst slip
tether thyself? or dost thou think the maiden will clasp his
fair young neck more willingly than thy old sunburnt wea-
sand?"
"Go to," answered the falconer; "thy wit towers high an
it could strike the quarry. I tell thee, the youth has nought
to fear: he had nothing to do with the gambol.
A rare gam-
bol it was, Michael, as madcaps ever played; and I had made
as rare a ballad, if we had had the luck to get it sung to an
end. But mum for that—tace, as I said before, is Latin for
a candle. Carry the youth to the presence, and I will remain
here, with bridle in hand, ready to strike the spurs up to the
rowel-heads, in case the hawk flies my way.
I will soon put
Soltra Edge, I trow, betwixt the Regent and me, if he means
me less than fair play."
"Come on then, my lad," said Michael, "since thou must
needs take the spring before canny Yorkshire." So saying,
he led the way through winding passages, closely followed by
Roland Græme, until they arrived at a large winding stone
stair, the steps of which were so long and broad, and at the
same time so low, as to render the ascent uncommonly easy.
When they had ascended about the height of one story, the
guide stepped aside, and pushed open the door of a dark and
gloomy ante-chamber; so dark, indeed, that his youthful com-
panion stumbled, and nearly fell down upon a low step, which
was awkwardly placed on the very threshold.
"Take heed," said Michael Wing-the-Wind, in a very low
tone of voice, and first glancing cautiously round to see if any
one listened—“take heed, my young friend, for those who fall
on these boards seldom rise again. Seest thou that," he added,
in a still lower voice, pointing to some dark crimson stains
on the floor, on which a ray of light, shot through a small
aperture, and traversing the general gloom of the apartment,
fell with mottled radiance--"seest thou that, youth? Walk
warily, for men have fallen here before you.
""
66
What mean you?" said the page, his flesh creeping,
though he scarce knew why. "Is it blood?"
G
THE ABBOT.
203
same whispering tone,
66
'Blood it is--but this
'Ay, ay,
"said the domestic, in the
and dragging the youth on by the arm.
is no time to question, or even to look at it. "Blood it is, foully
and fearfully shed, as foully and fearfully avenged. The
blood," he added, in a still more cautious tone, "of Seignor
David."
Roland Græme's heart throbbed when he found himself so
unexpectedly in the scene of Rizzio's slaughter-a catastrophe
which had chilled with horror all even in that rude age, which
had been the theme of wonder and pity through every cottage
and castle in Scotland, and had not escaped that of Avenel.
But his guide hurried him forward, permitting no further
question, and with the manner of one who has already tam-
pered too much with a dangerous subject. A tap which he
made at a low door at one end of the vestibule was answered
by a huissier, or usher, who, opening it cautiously, received
Michael's intimation that a page waited the Regent's leisure,
who brought letters from the Knight of Avenel.
"The council is breaking up," said the usher; "but give
me the packet; his Grace the Regent will presently see the
messenger.'
99
"The packet," replied the page, "must be delivered into
the Regent's own hands; such were the orders of my master."
The usher looked at him from head to foot, as if surprised
at his boldness, and then replied, with some asperity: "Say
you so, my young master? Thou crowest loudly to be but a
chicken, and from a country barn-yard too."
'Were it a time or place," said Roland, "thou shouldst see
I can do more than crow; but do your duty, and let the Re-
gent know I wait his pleasure."
“Thou art but a pert knave to tell me of my duty," said the
courtier in office; "but I will find a time to show you you are
out of yours; meanwhile, wait there till you are wanted." So
saying, he shut the door in Roland's face.
Michael Wing-the-Wind, who had shrunk from his youth-
ful companion during this altercation, according to the estab-
lished maxim of courtiers of all ranks, and in all ages, now
transgressed their prudential line of conduct so far as to come
204
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
up to him once more. "Thou art a hopeful young springald,"
said he, "and I see right well old Yorkshire had reason in his
caution. Thou hast been five minutes in the court, and hast
employed thy time so well as to make a powerful and a mortal
enemy of the usher of the council-chamber. Why, man, you
might almost as well have offended the deputy butler!"
I
"I care not what he is," said Roland Græme; "I will teach
whomever I speak with to speak civilly to me in return.
did not come from Avenel to be browbeaten in Holyrood.' ,,
"Bravo, my lad!" said Michael; "it is a fine spirit if you
can hold it; but see, the door opens.
The usher appeared, and, in a more civil tone of voice and
manner, said that his Grace the Regent would receive the
Knight of Avenel's message; and accordingly marshalled Ro-
land Græme the way into the apartment, from which the coun-
cil had been just dismissed, after finishing their consultations.
There was in the room a long oaken table, surrounded by
stools of the same wood, with a large elbow-chair, covered
with crimson velvet at the head. Writing materials and pa-
pers were lying there in apparent disorder; and one or two of
the privy-councillors who had lingered behind, assuming their
cloaks, bonnets, and swords, and bidding farewell to the Re-
gent, were departing slowly by a large door, on the opposite side
to that through which the page entered. Apparently the Earl
of Murray had made some jest, for the smiling countenances of
the statesmen expressed that sort of cordial reception which is
paid by courtiers to the condescending pleasantries of a prince.
The Regent himself was laughing heartily as he said: "Fare-
well, my lords, and hold me remembered to the Cock of the
North."
He then turned slowly round towards Roland Græme, and
the marks of gaiety, real or assumed, disappeared from his
countenance as completely as the passing bubbles leave the
dark mirror of a still profound lake into which a traveller has
cast a stone; in the course of a minute his noble feastures had
assumed their natural expression of deep and even melancholy
gravity.
This distinguished statesman, for as such his worst enemies
THE ABBOT.
205
acknowledged him, possessed all the external dignity, as well
as almost all the noble qualities, which could grace the power
that he enjoyed; and had he succeeded to the throne as his
legitimate inheritance, it is probable he would have been re-
corded as one of Scotland's wisest and greatest kings. But
that he held his authority by the deposition and imprisonment
of his sister and benefactress was a crime which those only
can excuse who think ambition an apology for ingratitude.
He was dressed plainly in black velvet, after the Flemish
fashion, and wore in his high-crowned hat a jewelled clasp,
which looped it up on one side, and formed the only ornament
of his apparel. He had his poniard by his side, and his
sword lay on the council table.
Such was the personage before whom Roland Græme now
presented himself, with a feeling of breathless awe, very dif-
ferent from the usual boldness and vivacity of his temper. In
fact, he was, from education and nature, forward, but not im-
pudent, and was much more easily controlled by the moral
superiority, arising from the elevated talents and renown of
those with whom he conversed, than by pretensions founded
only on rank or external show. He might have braved with
indifference the presence of an earl, merely distinguished by
his belt and coronet; but he felt overawed in that of the emi-
nent soldier and statesman, the wielder of a nation's power,
and the leader of her armies. The greatest and wisest are
flattered by the deference of youth, so graceful and becoming
in itself; and Murray took, with much courtesy, the letter
from the hands of the abashed and blushing page, and an-
swered with complaisance to the imperfect and half-muttered
greeting which he endeavoured to deliver to him on the part
of Sir Halbert of Avenel. He even paused a moment ere he
broke the silk with which the letter was secured, to ask the
page his name, so much he was struck with his very handsome
features and form.
"Roland Graham," he said, repeating the words after the
hesitating page, "what, of the Grahams of the Lennox?”
((
No, my lord,” replied Roland; "my parents dwelt in the
Debateable Land."
206
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Murray made no farther inquiry; but proceeded to read his
despatches, during the perusal of which his brow began to as-
sume a stern expression of displeasure, as that of one who
found something which at once surprised and disturbed him.
He sate down on the nearest seat, frowned till his eyebrows
almost met together, read the letter twice over, and was then
silent for several minutes. At length, raising his head, his
eye encountered that of the usher, who in vain endeavoured
to exchange the look of eager and curious observation with
which he had been perusing the Regent's features for that open
and unnoticing expression of countenance which, in looking at
all, seems as if it saw and marked nothing—a cast of look
which may be practised with advantage by all those, of what-
ever degree, who are admitted to witness the familiar and un-
guarded hours of their superiors. Great men are as jealous
of their thoughts as the wife of King Candaules was of her
charms, and will as readily punish those who have, however
involuntarily, beheld them in mental dishabille and exposure.
"Leave the apartment, Hyndman," said the Regent, stern-
ly, "and carry your observation elsewhere. You are too know-
ing, sir, for your post, which, by special order, is destined for
men of blunter capacity. So! now you look more like a fool
than you did (for Hyndman, as may easily be supposed, was
not a little disconcerted by this rebuke); keep that confused
stare, and it may keep your office. Begone, sir!"
The usher departed in dismay, not forgetting to register,
amongst his other causes of dislike to Roland Græme, that
he had been the witness of this disgraceful chiding. When
he had left the apartment, the Regent again addressed the
page.
"Your name you say is Armstrong?"
"No," replied Roland, "my name is Græme, so please you
—Roland Græme, whose forbears were designated of Heath-
ergill, in the Debateable Land.”
66
Ay, I knew it was a name from the Debateable Land.
Hast thou any acquaintances here in Edinburgh?"
"My lord," replied Roland, willing rather to evade this
question than to answer it directly, for the prudence of being
THE ABBOT.
207
silent with respect to Lord Seyton's adventure immediately
struck him, "I have been in Edinburgh scarce an hour, and
that for the first time in my life."
"What! and thou Sir Halbert Glendinning's page?" said
the Regent.
"I was brought up as my lady's page," said the youth, "and
left Avenel Castle for the first time in my life—at least since
my childhood-only three days since."
"My lady's page!" repeated the Earl of Murray, as if speak-
ing to himself; "it was strange to send his lady's page on a
matter of such deep concernment. Morton will say it is of a
piece with the nomination of his brother to be abbot; and yet
in some sort an inexperienced youth will best serve the turn.
What hast thou been taught, young man, in thy doughty ap-
prenticeship?"
(6
To hunt, my lord, and to hawk," said Roland Græme.
((
To hunt coneys, and to hawk at ouzels?" said the Regent,
smiling; "for such are the sports of ladies and their followers."
Græme's cheek reddened deeply as he replied, not without
some emphasis: "To hunt red-deer of the first head, and to
strike down herons of the highest soar, my lord, which, in
Lothian speech, may be termed, for aught I know, coneys and
ouzels; also, I can wield a brand and couch a lance, according
to our Border meaning; in inland speech these may be termed
water-flags and bulrushes."
Thy speech rings like metal," said the Regent, "and I
pardon the sharpness of it for the truth. Thou knowest,
then, what belongs to the duty of a man-at-arms?"
"So far as exercise can teach it, without real service in the
field," answered Roland Græme; "but our knight permitted
none of his household to make raids, and I never had the good
fortune to see a stricken field."
(6
"The good fortune!" repeated the Regent, smiling some-
what sorrowfully; "take my word, young man, war is the
only game from which both parties rise losers.”
"Not always, my lord," answered the page, with his char-
acteristic audacity, "if fame speaks truth.'
""
"How, sir?" said the Regent, colouring in his turn, and
208
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
perhaps suspecting an indiscreet allusion to the height which
he himself had attained by the hap of civil war.
"Because, my lord," said Roland Græme, without change
of tone, "he who fights well must have fame in life or honour
in death; and so war is a game from which no one can rise a
loser."
The Regent smiled and shook his head, when at that
moment the door opened, and the Earl of Morton presented
himself.
"I come somewhat hastily," he said, "and I enter unan-
nounced, because my news are of weight. It is as I said:
Edward Glendinning is named abbot, and-
""
"Hush, my lord!" said the Regent, "I know it, but"
"And perhaps you knew it before I did, my Lord of Mur-
ray,” answered Morton, his dark red brow growing darker and
redder as he spoke.
"Morton," said Murray, "suspect me not-touch not mine
honour; I have to suffer enough from the calumnies of foes,
let me not have to contend with the unjust suspicions of my
friends. We are not alone," said he, recollecting himself,
"or I could tell thee more. 99
He led Morton into one of the deep embrasures which the
windows formed in the massive wall, and which afforded a
retiring-place for their conversing apart. In this recess, Ro-
land observed them speak together with much earnestness,
Murray appearing to be grave and earnest, and Morton having
a jealous and offended air, which seemed gradually to give
way to the assurances of the Regent.
As their conversation grew more earnest, they became grad-
ually louder in speech, having perhaps forgotten the presence
of the page, the more readily as his position in the apartment
placed him out of sight, so that he found himself unwillingly
privy to more of their discourse than he cared to hear. For,
page though he was, a mean curiosity after the secrets of
others had never been numbered amongst Roland's failings;
and, moreover, with all his natural rashness, he could not but
doubt the safety of becoming privy to the secret discourse of
these powerful and dreaded men. Still, he could neither stop
t
THE ABBOT.
209
his ears nor with propriety leave the apartment; and while he
thought of some means of signifying his presence, he had
already heard so much that to have produced himself suddenly
would have been as awkward, and perhaps as dangerous, as in
quiet to abide the end of their conference. What he over-
heard, however, was but an imperfect part of their communi-
cation; and although a more expert politician, acquainted with
the circumstances of the times, would have had little difficulty
in tracing the meaning, yet Roland Græme could only form
very general and vague conjectures as to the import of their
discourse.
"All is prepared," said Murray, "and Lindesay is setting
forward. She must hesitate no longer; thou seest I act by
thy counsel, and harden myself against softer considerations."
"True, my lord," replied Morton, "in what is necessary to
gain power you do not hesitate, but go boldly to the mark.
But are you as careful to defend and preserve what you have
won? Why this establishment of domestics around her?
Has not your sister men and maidens enough to tend her, but
you must consent to this superfluous and dangerous retinue?"
"For shame, Morton! a princess, and my sister, could I do
less than allow her due tendance?"
"Ay," replied Morton, "even thus fly all your shafts-
smartly enough loosened from the bow, and not unskilfully
aimed, but a breath of foolish affection ever crosses in the mid
volley, and sways the arrow from the mark."
"Say not so, Morton!" replied Murray; "I have both dared
and done-
99
"Yes, enough to gain, but not enough to keep; reckon not
that she will think and act thus. You have wounded her
deeply both in pride and in power; it signifies nought that
you would tent now the wound with unavailing salves: as
matters stand with you, you must forfeit the title of an
affectionate brother, to hold that of a bold and determined
statesman.”
"Morton!" said Murray, with some impatience, "I brook
not these taunts; what I have done I have done; what I must
farther do, I must and will; but I am not made of iron like
14
....
1
}
210
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
thee, and I cannot but remember. Enough of this-my fur-
pose holds."
"And I warrant me," said Morton, "the choice of these
domestic consolations will rest with
22
Here he whispered names which escaped Roland Græme's
ear. Murray replied in a similar tone, but so much raised
towards the conclusion of the sentence that the page heard
these words: "And of him I hold myself secure, by Glendin-
ning's recommendation."
“Ay, which may be as much trustworthy as his late con-
duct at the Abbey of St. Mary's: you have heard that his
brother's election has taken place. Your favourite Sir Hal-
bert, my Lord of Murray, has as much fraternal affection as
yourself."
W
2
-
"By Heaven, Morton, that taunt demanded an unfriendly
answer, but I pardon it, for your brother also is concerned;
but this election shall be annulled. I tell you, Earl of Mor-
ton, while I hold the sword of state in my royal nephew's
name, neither lord nor knight in Scotland shall dispute my
authority; and if I bear with insults from my friends, it is
only while I know them to be such, and forgive their follies
for their faithfulness."
Morton muttered what seemed to be some excuse, and the
Regent answered him in a milder tone, and then subjoined:
"Besides, I have another pledge than Glendinning's recom-
mendation for this youth's fidelity: his nearest relative has
placed herself in my hands as his security, to be dealt withal
as his doings shall deserve."
"That is something," replied Morton; "but yet, in fair love
and good-will, I must still pray you to keep on your guard.
The foes are stirring again, as horse-flies and hornets become
busy so soon as the storm-blast is over. George of Seyton
was crossing the causeway this morning with a score of men
at his back, and had a ruffle with my friends of the house of
Leslie; they met at the Tron, and were fighting hard, when
the provost, with his guard of partizans, came in thirdsman,
and staved them asunder with their halberds, as men part dog
and bear."
•
211
THE ABBOT.
"He hath my order for such interference," said the Regent.
"Has any one been hurt?”
((
George of Seyton himself, by black Ralph Leslie; the
devil take the rapier that ran not through from side to side!
Ralph has a bloody coxcomb, by a blow from a messan page
whom nobody knew; Dick Seyton of Windygowl is run
through the arm; and two gallants of the Leslies have suffered
phlebotomy. This is all the gentle blood which has been
spilled in the revel; but a yeoman or two on both sides have
had bones broken and ears cropped. The hostler-wives, who
are like to be the only losers by their miscarriage, have
dragged the knaves off the street, and are crying a drunken
coronach over them."
"You take it lightly, Douglas," said the Regent; "these
broils and feuds would shame the capital of the Great Turk,
let alone that of a Christian and Reformed state. But, if I
live, this gear shall be amended; and men shall say, when they
read my story, that if it were my cruel hap to rise to power
by the dethronement of a sister, I employed it, when gained,
for the benefit of the commonweal."
"And of your friends," replied Morton; "wherefore I trust
for your instant order annulling the election of this lurdane
abbot, Edward Glendinning."
"You shall be presently satisfied," said the Regent, and,
stepping forward, he began to call "So ho, Hyndman!" when
suddenly his eye lighted on Roland Græme. "By my faith,
Douglas," said he, turning to his friend, "here have been
three at counsel!"
"Ay, but only two can keep counsel," said Morton; "the
galliard must be disposed of.”
"For shame, Morton-an orphan boy! Hearken thee, my
child. Thou hast told me some of thy accomplishments-
canst thou speak truth?"
"Ay, my lord, when it serves my turn," replied Græme.
"It shall serve thy turn now," said the Regent; "and false-
hood shall be thy destruction. How much hast thou heard or
understood of what we two have spoken together?"
"But little, my lord," replied Roland Græme, boldly,
1
A
212
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"which met my apprehension, saving that it seemed to me as
if in something you doubted the faith of the Knight of Avenel,
under whose roof I was nurtured."
"And what hast thou to say on that point, young man?"
continued the Regent, bending his eyes upon him with a keen
and strong expression of observation.
"That," said the page, "depends on the quality of those
who spake against his honour whose bread I have long eaten.
If they be my inferiors, I say they lie, and will maintain
what I say with my baton; if my equals, still I say they lie,
and will do battle in the quarrel, if they list, with my sword;
if my superiors- "he paused.
"Proceed boldly," said the Regent.
"What if thy supe-
rior said aught that nearly touched your master's honour?”
"I would say," replied Græme, "that he did ill to slander
the absent, and that my master was a man who could render
an account of his actions to any one who should manfully
demand it of him to his face."
"And it were manfully said," replied the Regent. "What
thinkest thou, my Lord of Morton?”
"I think,” replied Morton, "that if the young galliard re-
semble a certain ancient friend of ours as much in the craft of
his disposition as he does in eye and in brow, there may be
a wide difference betwixt what he means and what he speaks.”
"And whom meanest thou that he resembles so closely?”
said Murray.
66
Even the true and trusty Julian Avenel,” replied Morton.
But this youth belongs to the Debateable Land," said
Murray.
"It may be so; but Julian was an outlying striker of venison,
and made many a far cast when he had a fair doe in chase.”
"Pshaw!" said the Regent, "this is but idle talk. Here,
thou Hyndman-thou curiosity," calling to the usher, who
now entered, "conduct this youth to his companion. You
will both," he said to Græme, "keep yourselves in readiness
to travel on short notice." And then motioning to him court-
eously to withdraw, he broke up the interview.
1
THE ABBOT.
213
CHAPTER XIX.
It is and is not-'tis the thing I sought for,
Have kneel'd for, pray'd for, risk'd my fame and life for,
And yet it is not-no more than the shadow
Upon the hard, cold, flat, and polish'd mirror
Is the warm, graceful, rounded, living substance
Which it presents in form and lineament.
Old Play.
THE usher, with gravity which ill concealed a jealous scowl,
conducted Roland Græme to a lower apartment, where he
found his comrade, the falconer. The man of office then
briefly acquainted them that this would be their residence till
his Grace's further orders; that they were to go to the pan-
try, to the buttery, to the cellar, and to the kitchen, at the
usual hours, to receive the allowances becoming their station
-instructions which Adam Woodcock's old familiarity with
the court made him perfectly understand. "For your beds,"
he said, "you must go to the hostelry of St. Michael's, in re-
spect the palace is now full of the domestics of the greater
nobles."
No sooner was the usher's back turned than Adam ex-
claimed, with all the glee of eager curiosity: "And now, Mas-
ter Roland, the news-the news; come, unbutton thy pouch
and give us thy tidings. What says the Regent? Asks he
for Adam Woodcock? And is all soldered up, or must the
Abbot of Unreason strap for it?”
"All is well in that quarter," said the page; "and for the
rest But, hey-day, what! have you taken the chain and
medal off from my bonnet?"
.
“And meet time it was, when yon usher, vinegar-faced
rogue that he is, began to inquire what Popish trangam you
were wearing. By the mass, the metal would have been con-
fiscated for conscience' sake, like your other rattle-trap yonder
at Avenel, which Mrs. Lilias bears about on her shoes in the
guise of a pair of shoe-buckles. This comes of carrying Po-
pish nicknackets about you."
214
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"The jade!" exclaimed Roland Græme, "has she melted
down my rosary into buckles for her clumsy hoofs, which will
set off such a garnish nearly as well as a cow's might? But,
hang her, let her keep them; many a dog's trick have I played
old Lilias, for want of having something better to do, and the
buckles will serve for a remembrance. Do you remember the
verjuice I put into the comfits, when old Wingate and she were
to breakfast together on Easter morning?"
"In troth do I, Master Roland; the major-domo's mouth
was as crooked as a hawk's beak for the whole morning after-
wards, and any other page in your room would have tasted the
discipline of the porter's lodge for it. But my lady's favour
stood between your skin and many a jerking. Lord send you
may be the better for her protection in such matters!"
"I am at least grateful for it, Adam; and I am glad you
put me in mind of it.”
"Well, but the news, my young master," said Woodcock-
"spell me the tidings; what are we to fly at next? What did
the Regent say to you?"
"Nothing that I am to repeat again," said Roland Græme,
shaking his head.
"Why, hey-day," said Adam, "how prudent we are becomɔ
all of a sudden! You have advanced rarely in brief space,
Master Roland. You have wellnigh had your head broken,
and you have gained your gold chain, and you have made an
enemy, Master Usher to wit, with his two legs like hawks'
perches, and you have had audience of the first man in the
realm, and bear as much mystery in your brow as if you had
flown in the court-sky ever since you were hatched. I be-
lieved in my soul you would run with a piece of the egg-shell
on your head like the curlews, which—I would we were after
them again—we used to call whaups in the halidome and its
neighbourhood. But sit thee down, boy; Adam Woodcock
was never the lad to seek to enter into forbidden secrets-sit
thee down, and I will go fetch the vivers; I know the butler
and the pantler of old."
The good-natured falconer set forth upon his errand, busy-
ing himself about procuring their refreshment; and during his
THE ABBOT.
215
absence Roland Græme abandoned himself to the strange,
complicated, and yet heart-stirring reflections to which the
events of the morning had given rise. Yesterday he was of
neither mark nor likelihood, a vagrant boy, the attendant on
a relative of whose sane judgment he himself had not the
highest opinion; but now he had become, he knew not why,
or wherefore, or to what extent, the custodier, as the Scottish
phrase went, of some important state secret, in the safe keeping
of which the Regent himself was concerned. It did not di-
minish from, but rather added to, the interest of a situation
so unexpected that Roland himself did not perfectly under-
stand wherein he stood committed by the state secrets in which
he had unwittingly become participator. On the contrary, he
felt like one who looks on a romantic landscape, of which he
sees the features for the first time, and then obscured with
mist and driving tempest. The imperfect glimpse which the
eye catches of rocks, trees, and other objects around him adds
double dignity to these shrouded mountains and darkened
abysses, of which the height, depth, and extent are left to
imagination.
But mortals, especially at the well-appetised age which pre-
cedes twenty years, are seldom so much engaged either by real
or conjectural subjects of speculation but that their earthly
wants claim their hour of attention. And with many a smile
did our hero, so the reader may term him if he will, hail the
reappearance of his friend Adam Woodcock, bearing on one
wooden platter a tremendous portion of boiled beef, and on
another a plentiful allowance of greens, or rather what the
Scotch call lang-kale. A groom followed with bread, salt,
and the other means of setting forth a meal; and when they
had both placed on the oaken table what they bore in their
hands, the falconer observed that, since he knew the court, it
had got harder and harder every day to the poor gentlemen and
yeomen retainers, but that now it was an absolute flaying of
a flea for the hide and tallow. Such thronging to the wicket,
and such churlish answers, and such bare beef-bones, such a
shouldering at the buttery-hatch and cellarage, and nought to
be gained beyond small insufficient single ale, or at best with
1
216
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
a single "straike" of malt to counterbalance a double allow-
ance of water. "By the mass, though, my young friend,"
said he, while he saw the food disappearing fast under Ro-
land's active exertions, "it is not so well to lament for former
times as to take the advantage of the present, else we are like
to lose on both sides."
So saying, Adam Woodcock drew his chair towards the
table, unsheathed his knife (for every one carried that minis-
ter of festive distribution for himself), and imitated his young
companion's example, who for the moment had lost his anx-
iety for the future in the eager satisfaction of an appetite sharp-
ened by youth and abstinence.
In truth, they made, though the materials were sufficiently
simple, a very respectable meal at the expense of the royal al-
lowance; and Adam Woodcock, notwithstanding the deliber-
ate censure which he had passed on the household beer of the
palace, had taken the fourth deep draught of the black-jack
ere he remembered him that he had spoken in its dispraise.
Then, flinging himself jollily and luxuriously back in an old
Danske elbow-chair, and looking with careless glee towards
the page, extending at the same time his right leg, and stretch-
ing the other easily over it, he reminded his companion that
he had not yet heard the ballad which he had made for the
Abbot of Unreason's revel. And accordingly he struck mer-
rily up with
"The Pope, that pagan full of pride,
Has blinded us full lang-
""
✔
Roland Græme, who felt no great delight, as may be sup-
posed, in the falconer's satire, considering its subject, began
to snatch up his mantle and fling it around his shoulders, an
action which instantly interrupted the ditty of Adam Wood-
cock.
•
"Where the vengeance are you going now," he said, "thou
restless boy? Thou hast quicksilver in the veins of thee to a
certainty, and canst no more abide any douce and sensible
communing than a hoodless hawk would keep perched on my
wrist!"
THE ABBOT.
217
"Why, Adam,” replied the page, "if you must needs know,
I am about to take a walk and look at this fair city.
One may
as well be still mewed up in the old castle of the lake, if one
is to sit the livelong night between four walls, and hearken
to old ballads."
"It is a new ballad, the Lord help thee!" replied Adam,
"and that one of the best that ever was matched with a rous-
ing chorus."
"Be it so," said the page, “I will hear it another day,
when the rain is dashing against the windows, and there is
neither steed stamping, nor spur jingling, nor feather waving
in the neighbourhood, to mar my marking it well. But, even
now, I want to be in the world, and to look about me."
"But the never a stride shall you go without me," said the
falconer, "until the Regent shall take you whole and sound off
my hand; and so, if you will, we may go to the hostelry of St.
Michael's, and there you will see company enough, but through
the casement, mark you me; for as to rambling through the
street to seek Seytons and Leslies, and having a dozen holes
drilled in your new jacket with rapier and poniard, I will
yield no way to it."
"To the hostelry of St. Michael's, then, with all my heart,
said the page; and they left the palace accordingly, rendered
to the sentinels at the gate, who had now taken their posts for
the evening, a strict account of their names and business, were
dismissed through a small wicket of the close-barred portal,
and soon reached the inn or hostelry of St. Michael, which
stood in a large courtyard, off the main street, close under the
descent of the Calton Hill. The place, wide, waste, and un-
comfortable, resembled rather an Eastern caravansary, where
men found shelter indeed, but were obliged to supply them-
selves with everything else, than one of our modern inns-
Where not one comfort shall to those be lost,
Who never ask, or never feel, the cost.
در
But still, to the inexperienced eye of Roland Græme, the
bustle and confusion of this place of public resort furnished.
excitement and amusement. In the large room, into which
218
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
they had rather found their own way than been ushered by
mine host, travellers and natives of the city entered and de-
parted, met and greeted, gamed or drank together, forming
the strongest contrast to the stern and monotonous order and
silence with which matters were conducted in the well-ordered
household of the knight of Avenel. Altercation of every kind,
from brawling to jesting, was going on among the groups
around them, and yet the noise and mingled voices seemed
to disturb no one, and indeed to be noticed by no others than
by those who composed the group to which the speaker be-
longed.
The falconer passed through the apartment to a projecting
latticed window, which formed a sort of recess from the room
itself; and having here ensconced himself and his companion,
he called for some refreshments; and a tapster, after he had.
shouted for the twentieth time, accommodated him with the
remains of a cold capon and a neat's tongue, together with a
pewter stoup of weak French vin-de-pays. "Fetch a stoup of
brandy-wine, thou knave. We will be jolly to-night, Master
Roland," said he, when he saw himself thus accommodated,
"and let care come to-morrow." 29
But Roland had eaten too lately to enjoy the good cheer; and
feeling his curiosity much sharper than his appetite, he made
it his choice to look out of the lattice, which overhung a large
yard surrounded by the stables of the hostelry, and fed his
eyes on the busy sight beneath; while Adam Woodcock, after
he had compared his companion to the Laird of MacFarlane's
geese, who liked their play better than their meat,¹ disposed
of his time with the aid of cup and trencher, ocasionally hum-
ming the burden of his birth-strangled ballad, and beating
time to it with his fingers on the little round table. In this
exercise he was frequently interrupted by the exclamations of
his companion, as he saw something new in the yard beneath
to attract and interest him.
It was a busy scene, for the number of gentlemen and nobles
who were now crowded into the city had filled all spare stables
and places of public reception with their horses and military
¹ [See The Monastery, Note 10.]
THE ABBOT.
219
attendants. There were some score of yeomen dressing their
own or their masters' horses in the yard-whistling, singing,
laughing, and upbraiding each other, in a style of wit which
the good order of Avenel Castle rendered strange to Ronald
Græme's ears. Others were busy repairing their own arms,
or cleaning those of their masters. One fellow, having just
bought a bundle of twenty spears, was sitting in a corner,
employed in painting the white staves of the weapons with
yellow and vermilion. Other lackeys led large staghounds,
or wolf-dogs, of noble race, carefully muzzled to prevent acci-
dents to passengers.
All came and went, mixed together and
separated, under the delighted eye of the page, whose imagi-
nation had not even conceived a scene so gaily diversified with
the objects he had most pleasure in beholding; so that he was
perpetually breaking the quiet reverie of honest Woodcock,
and the mental progress which he was making in his ditty,
by exclaiming: "Look here, Adam-look at the bonny bay
horse; St. Anthony, what a gallant forehand he hath got!
And see the goodly grey, which yonder fellow in the frieze
jacket is dressing as awkwardly as if he had never touched
aught but a cow; I would I were nigh him to teach him his
trade! And lo you, Adam, the gay Milan armour that the
yeoman is scouring, all steel and silver, like our knight's prime
suit, of which old Wingate makes such account. And see to
yonder pretty wench, Adam, who comes tripping through them
all with her milk-pail; I warrant me she has had a long walk
from the loaning; she has a stammel waistcoat, like your
favourite Cicely Sunderland, Master Adam!"
"By my hood, lad," answered the falconer, "it is well for
thee thou wert brought up where grace grew. Even in the
Castle of Avenel thou wert a wild-blood enough; but hadst
thou been nurtured here, within a flight-shot of the court,
thou hadst been the veriest crack-hemp of a page that ever
wore feather in thy bonnet or steel by thy side; truly, I wish
it may end well with thee.”
"Nay, but leave thy senseless humming and drumming, old
Adam, and come to the window ere thou hast drenched thy
senses in the pint-pot there. See, here comes a merry min-
220
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
strel with his crowd, and a wench with him, that dances with
bells at her ankles; and see, the yeomen and pages leave their
horses and the armour they were cleaning, and gather round,
as is very natural, to hear the music. Come, old Adam, we
will thither too.'
ور
66
"You shall call me 'cut' if I do go down," said Adam;
you are near as good minstrelsy as the stroller can make,
if you had but the grace to listen to it."
"But the wench in the stammel waistcoat is stopping too,
Adam; by Heaven, they are going to dance! Frieze jacket
wants to dance with stammel waistcoat, but she is coy and
recusant."
Then suddenly changing his tone of levity into one of deep
interest and surprise, he exclaimed: "Queen of Heaven! what
is it that I see?" and then remained silent.
The sage Adam Woodcock, who was in a sort of languid
degree amused with the page's exclamations, even while he
professed to despise them, became at length rather desirous
to set his tongue once more a-going, that he might enjoy the
superiority afforded by his own intimate familiarity with all
the circumstances which excited in his young companion's
mind so much wonderment.
66
Well, then," he said at last, "what is it you do see, Mas-
ter Roland, that you have become mute all of a sudden?”
Roland returned no answer.
"I say, Master Roland Græme," said the falconer, “it is
manners in my country for a man to speak when he is spok-
en to."
Roland Græme remained silent.
"The murrain is in the boy," said Adam Woodcock, "he
has stared out his eyes and talked his tongue to pieces, I
think!"
•
The falconer hastily drank off his can of wine, and came to
Roland, who stood like a statue, with his eyes eagerly bent on
the courtyard, though Adam Woodcock was unable to detect
amongst the joyous scene which it exhibited aught that could
deserve such devoted attention.
“The lad is mazed!" said the falconer to himself.
THE ABBOT.
221
But Roland Græme had good reasons for his surprise, though
they were not such as he could communicate to his companion.
The touch of the old minstrel's instrument, for he had al-
ready begun to play, had drawn in several auditors from the
street, when one entered the gate of the yard whose appear-
ance exclusively arrested the attention of Roland Græme. He
was of his own age, or a good deal younger, and from his
dress and bearing might be of the same rank and calling, hav-
ing all the air of coxcombry and pretension which accorded
with a handsome, though slight and low, figure and elegant
dress, in part hid by a large purple cloak. As he entered, he
cast a glance up towards the windows, and, to his extreme
astonishment, under the purple velvet bonnet and white feath-
er, Roland recognised the features so deeply impressed on his
memory, the bright and clustered tresses, the laughing full
blue eyes, the well-formed eyebrows, the nose with the slight-
est possible inclination to be aquiline, the ruby lip, of which
an arch and half-suppressed smile seemed the habitual ex-
pression—in short, the form and face of Catherine Seyton; in
man's attire, however, and mimicking, as it seemed not un-
successfully, the bearing of a youthful but forward page.
“St. George and St. Andrew!" exclaimed the amazed Ro-
land Græme to himself, 66 was there ever such an audacious
quean! She seems a little ashamed of her mummery too, for
she holds the lap of her cloak to her face, and her colour is
heightened; but, Sancta Maria, how she threads the throng,
with as firm and bold a step as if she had never tied petticoat
round her waist! Holy saints! she holds up her riding-rod
as if she would lay it about some of their ears that stand most
in her way; by the hand of my father! she bears herself
like the very model of pagehood. Hey! what! sure she will
not strike frieze jacket in earnest?" But he was not long left
in doubt; for the lout whom he had before repeatedly noticed,
standing in the way of the bustling page, and maintaining his
place with clownish obstinacy or stupidity, the advanced rid-
ing-rod was, without a moment's hesitation, sharply applied
to his shoulders, in a manner which made him spring aside,
rubbing the part of the body which had received so uncere-
222
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
monious a hint that it was in the way of his betters. The
party injured growled forth an oath or two of indignation, and
Roland Græme began to think of flying downstairs to the as-
sistance of the translated Catherine; but the laugh of the yard
was against frieze jacket, which indeed had, in those days,
small chance of fair play in a quarrel with velvet and embroid-
ery; so that the fellow, who was a menial in the inn, slunk
back to finish his task of dressing the bonny grey, laughed at
by all, but most by the wench in the stammel waistcoat, his
fellow-servant, who, to crown his disgrace, had the cruelty to
cast an applauding smile upon the author of the injury, while,
with a freedom more like a milkmaid of the town than she of
the plains, she accosted him with: "Is there any one you
want here, my pretty gentleman, that you seem in such
haste?"
"I seek a slip of a lad," said the seeming gallant, “with a
sprig of holly in his cap, black hair, and black eyes, green
jacket, and the air of a country coxcomb; I have sought him
through every close and alley in the Canongate the fiend
gore him!"
"Why, God-a-mercy, nun!" muttered Roland Græme, much
bewildered.
"I will inquire him presently out for your fair young wor-
ship," said the wench of the inn.
“Do,” said the gallant squire," and if you bring me to him
you shall have a groat to-night, and a kiss on Sunday when
you have on a cleaner kirtle.”
"Why, God-a-mercy, nun!" again muttered Roland, "this
is a note above E La."
In a moment after the servant entered the room, and ushered
in the object of his surprise.
While the disguised vestal looked with unabashed brow,
and bold and rapid glance of her eye, through the various
parties in the large old room, Roland Græme, who felt an inter-
nal awkward sense of bashful confusion, which he deemed al-
together unworthy of the bold and dashing character to which
he aspired, determined not to be browbeaten and put down
by this singular female, but to meet her with a glance of rec‹
THE ABBOT.
223
<
ognition so sly, so penetrating, so expressively humorous, as
should show her at once he was in possession of her secret and
master of her fate, and should compel her to humble herself
towards him, at least into the look and manner of respectful
and deprecating observance.
This was extremely well planned; but, just as Roland had
called up the knowing glance, the suppressed smile, the
shrewd, intelligent look which was to ensure his triumph, he
encountered the bold, firm, and steady gaze of his brother or
sister page, who, casting on him a falcon glance, and recognis-
ing him at once as the object of his search, walked up with
the most unconcerned look, the most free and undaunted
composure, and hailed him with "You, sir holly-top, I would
speak with you."
The steady coolness and assurance with which these words
were uttered, although the voice was the very voice he had
heard at the old convent, and although the features more
nearly resembled those of Catherine when seen close than
when viewed from a distance, produced, nevertheless, such a
confusion in Roland's mind that he became uncertain whether
he was not still under a mistake from the beginning; the know-
ing shrewdness which should have animated his visage faded
into a sheepish bashfulness, and the half-suppressed but most
intelligible smile became the senseless giggle of one who
laughs to cover his own disorder of ideas.
"Do they understand a Scotch tongue in thy country, holly-
top?" said this marvellous specimen of metamorphosis. "I
said I would speak with thee."
"What is your business with my comrade, my young chick
of the game?" said Adam Woodcock, willing to step in to his
companion's assistance, though totally at a loss to account for
the sudden disappearance of all Roland's usual smartness and
presence of mind.
66
Nothing to you, my old cock of the perch," replied the
gallant; "go mind your hawks' castings. I guess by your bag
and your gauntlet that you are squire of the body to a sort
of kites."
He laughed as he spoke, and the laugh reminded Roland so
-
224
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
irresistibly of the hearty fit of risibility in which Catherine
had indulged at his expense when they first met in the old
nunnery, that he could scarce help exclaiming, "Catherine
Seyton, by Heavens!" He checked the exclamation, how-
ever, and only said: "I think, sir, we two are not totally
strangers to each other.'
66
"We must have met in our dreams, then," said the youth;
and my days are too busy to remember what I think on at
nights."
Or apparently to remember upon one day those whom you
may have seen on the preceding eve," said Roland Græme.
The youth in his turn cast on him a look of some surprise,
as he replied: "I know no more of what you mean than does
the horse I ride on; if there be offence in your words, you
shall find me as ready to take it as any lad in Lothian.”
66
'You know well," said Roland, "though it pleases you to
use the language of a stranger, that with you I can have no
purpose to quarrel."
66
Let me do mine errand, then, and be rid of you,” said the
page. Step hither this way, out of that old leathern fist's
hearing."
They walked into the recess of the window, which Roland
had left upon the youth's entrance into the apartment. The
messenger then turned his back on the company, after casting
a hasty and sharp glance around to see if they were observed.
Roland did the same, and the page in the purple mantle thus
addressed him, taking at the same time from under his cloak
a short but beautifully-wrought sword, with the hilt and or-
naments upon the sheath of silver, massively chased and over-
gilded: "I bring you this weapon from a friend, who gives
it
you under the solemn condition that you will not unsheathe
it until you are commanded by your rightful sovereign. For
your warmth of temper is known, and the presumption with
which you intrude yourself into the quarrels of others; and,
therefore, this is laid upon you as a penance by those who wish
you well, and whose hand will influence your destiny for good
or for evil.
This is what I was charged to tell you.
So if you
will give a fair word for a fair sword, and pledge your prom-
THE ABBOT.
225
ise, with hand and glove, good and well; and if not, I will
carry back Caliburn to those who sent it.”
"And may I not ask who these are?" said Roland Græme,
admiring at the same time the beauty of the weapon thus
offered him.
"My commission in no way leads me to answer such a ques-
tion,” said he of the purple mantle.
"But if I am offended," said Roland, "may I not draw to
defend myself?"
"Not this weapon," answered the sword-bearer; "but you
have your own at command, and, besides, for what do you
wear your poniard?"
"For no good," said Adam Woodcock, who had now ap-
proached close to them, "and that I can witness as well as
any one."
"Stand back, fellow," said the messenger; "thou hast an
intrusive, curious face, that will come by a buffet if it is found
where it has no concern.
""
"A buffet, my young Master Malapert?" said Adam, draw-
ing back, however; "best keep down fist, or, by Our Lady,
buffet will beget buffet!"
“Be patient, Adam Woodcock," said Roland Græme; “and
let me pray you, fair sir, since by such addition you choose
for the present to be addressed, may I not barely unsheathe
this weapon, in pure simplicity of desire to know whether so
fair a hilt and scabbard are matched with a befitting blade?"
"By no manner of means," said the messenger; "at a word,
you must take it under the promise that you never draw it
until you receive the commands of your lawful sovereign, or
you must leave it alone.”
"Under that condition, and coming from your friendly
hand, I accept of the sword," said Roland, taking it from
his hand; "but credit me, that if we are to work together in
any weighty emprise, as I am induced to believe, some confi-
dence and openness on your part will be necessary to give the
right impulse to my zeal. I press for no more at present, it
is enough that you understand me."
"I understand you!" said the page, exhibiting the appear-
15
226
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ance of unfeigned surprise in his turn. "Renounce me if I
do! Here you stand jiggeting, and sniggling, and looking
cunning, as if there were some mighty matter of intrigue and
common understanding betwixt you and me, whom you never
set your eyes on before!”
"What!" said Roland Græme, "will you deny that we have
met before?"
(6
Marry that I will, in any Christian court," said the other
page.
"And will you also deny," said Roland, "that it was rec-
ommended to us to study each other's features well, that, in
whatever disguise the time might impose upon us, each should
recognise in the other the secret agent of a mighty work?
Do not you remember that Sister Magdalen and Dame Brid-
get-
رو
The messenger here interrupted him, shrugging up his
shoulders with a look of compassion: "Bridget and Magda-
len! why, this is madness and dreaming! Hark ye, Master
Holly-top, your wits are gone on wool-gathering; comfort
yourself with a caudle, thatch your brain-sick noddle with a
woollen nightcap, and so God be with you!"
As he concluded this polite parting address, Adam Wood-
cock, who was again seated by the table on which stood the
now empty can, said to him: "Will you drink a cup, young
man, in the way of courtesy, now you have done your errand,
and listen to a good song?" and without waiting for an an-
swer, he commenced his ditty-
"The Pope, that pagan full of pride,
Hath blinded us full long-
It is probable that the good wine had made some innovation
in the falconer's brain, otherwise he would have recollected the
danger of introducing anything like political or polemical
pleasantry into a public assemblage, at a time when men's
minds were in a state of great irritability. To do him justice,
he perceived his error, and stopped short so soon as he saw
that the word "Pope" had at once interrupted the separate
conversations of the various parties which were assembled in
1
}
THE ABBOT.
227
the apartment; and that many began to draw themselves up,
bridle, look big, and prepare to take part in the impending
brawl; while others, more decent and cautious persons, hastily
paid down their lawing, and prepared to leave the place ere
bad should come to worse.
And to worse it was soon likely to come; for no sooner did
Woodcock's ditty reach the ear of the stranger page, than,
uplifting his riding-rod, he exclaimed, "He who speaks irrev-
erently of the Holy Father of the church in my presence is
the cub of a heretic wolf-bitch, and I will switch him as I
would a mongrel cur!"
"And I will break thy young pate," said Adam, "if thou
darest to lift a finger to me." And then, in defiance of the
young Drawcansir's threats, with a stout heart and dauntless
accent, he again uplifted the stave,
"
The Pope, that pagan full of pride,
Hath blinded
11
But Adam was able to proceed no farther, being himself un-
fortunately blinded by a stroke of the impatient youth's switch
across his eyes. Enraged at once by the smart and indignity,
the falconer started up, and darkling as he was—for his eyes
watered too fast to permit his seeing anything—he would soon
have been at close grips with his insolent adversary, had not
Roland Græme, contrary to his nature, played for once the
prudent man and the peacemaker, and thrown himself betwixt
them, imploring Woodcock's patience. "You know not," he
said, “with whom you have to do. And thou," addressing
the messenger, who stood scornfully laughing at Adam's rage,
'get thee gone, whoever thou art; if thou be'st what I guess
thee, thou well knowest there are earnest reasons why thou
shouldst."
(C
“Thou hast hit it right for once, holly-top," said the gal-
lant, "though I guess you drew your bow at a venture. Here,
host, let this yeoman have a pottle of wine to wash the smart
out of his eyes, and there is a French crown for him." So say-
ing, he threw the piece of money on the table, and left the
apartment with a quick yet steady pace, looking firmly at
228
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
right and left, as if to defy interruption, and snapping his
fingers at two or three respectable burghers, who, declaring
it was a shame that any one should be suffering to rant and
ruffle in defence of the Pope, were labouring to find the hilts
of their swords, which had got for the present unhappily en-
tangled in the folds of their cloaks. But, as the adversary
was gone ere any of them had reached his weapon, they did
not think it necessary to unsheathe cold iron, but merely ob-
served to each other: "This is more than masterful violence,
to see a poor man stricken in the face just for singing a ballad
against the Whore of Babylon! If the Pope's champions are
to be bangsters in our very change-houses, we shall soon have
the old shavelings back again."
"The provost should look to it," said another, “and have
some five or six armed with partizans, to come in upon the
first whistle, to teach these gallants their lesson. For look
you, neighbour Lugleather, it is not for decent householders
like ourselves to be brawling with the godless grooms and pert
pages of the nobles, that are bred up to little else save blood-
shed and blasphemy."
"For all that, neighbour," said Lugleather, "I would have
curried that youngster as properly as ever I curried a lamb's
hide, had not the hilt of my bilbo been for the instant beyond
my grasp; and before I could turn my girdle, gone was my
master!"
•
"Ay," said the others, "the devil go with him, and peace
abide with us; I give my rede, neighbours, that we pay the
lawing, and be stepping homeward, like brother and brother;
for old St. Giles's is tolling curfew, and the street grows dan-
gerous at night."
With that the good burghers adjusted their cloaks and pre-
pared for their departure, while he that seemed the briskest
of the three, laying his hand on his Andrea Ferrara, observed,
"That they that spoke in praise of the Pope on the Highgate
of Edinburgh had best bring the sword of St. Peter to defend
them."
While the ill-humour excited by the insolence of the young
aristocrat was thus evaporating in empty menace, Roland
THE ABBOT.
229
Græme had to control the far more serious indignation of
Adam Woodcock. "Why man, it was but a switch across
the mazzard; blow your nose, dry your eyes, and you will see
all the better for it."
"By this light, which I cannot see," said Adam Woodcock,
“thou hast been a false friend to me, young man, neither tak-
ing up my rightful quarrel nor letting me fight it out myself."
"Fy for shame, Adam Woodcock,” replied the youth, de-
termined to turn the tables on him, and become in turn the
counsellor of good order and peaceable demeanour "I say,
fy for shame! Alas, that you will speak thus! Here are
you sent with me, to prevent my innocent youth getting into
ور
ور
snares
"I wish your innocent youth were cut short with a halter,
with all my heart!" said Adam, who began to see which way
the admonition tended.
"And instead of setting before me," continued Roland, "an
example of patience and sobriety becoming the falconer of
Sir Halbert Glendinning, you quaff me off I know not how
many flagons of ale, besides a gallon of wine, and a full meas-
ure of strong waters!"
"It was but one small pottle," said poor Adam, whom con-
sciousness of his indiscretion now reduced to a merely defen-
sive warfare.
"It was enough to pottle you handsomely, however," said
the page.
"And then, instead of going to bed to sleep off
your liquor, must you sit singing your roistering songs about
popes and pagans, till you have got your eyes almost switched
out of your head; and but for my interference, whom your
drunken ingratitude accuses of deserting you, yon galliard
would have cut your throat, for he was whipping out a whin-
ger as broad as my hand and as sharp as a razor. And these
are lessons for an inexperienced youth! Oh, Adam! out upon
you!-out upon you!"
"Marry, amen, and with all my heart," said Adam; "out
upon my folly for expecting anything but impertinent raillery
from a page like thee, that, if he saw his father in a scrape,
would laugh at him, instead of lending him aid!"
230
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Nay, but I will lend you aid," said the page, still laugh-
ing; "that is, I will lend thee aid to thy chamber, good
Adam, where thou shalt sleep off wine and ale, ire and indig-
nation, and awake the next morning with as much fair wit as
nature has blessed thee withal. Only one thing I will warn
thee, good Adam, that henceforth and for ever, when thou
railest to me for being somewhat hot at hand, and rather too
prompt to out with poniard or so, thy admonition shall serve
as a prologue to the memorable adventure of the switching of
St. Michael's."
With such condoling expressions he got the crestfallen fal-
coner to his bed, and then retired to his own pallet, where it
was some time ere he could fall asleep. If the messenger whom
he had seen were really Catherine Seyton, what a masculine
virago and termagant must she be! and stored with what an
inimitable command of insolence and assurance! The brass
on her brow would furnish the front of twenty pages;
"and I
should know," thought Roland, "what that amounts to. And
yet, her features, her look, her light gait, her laughing eye,
the art with which she disposed the mantle to show no more
of her limbs than needs must be seen-I am glad she had
at least that grace left-the voice, the smile it must have
been Catherine Seyton, or the devil in her likeness! One
thing is good, I have silenced the eternal predications of that
ass, Adam Woodcock, who has set up for being a preacher and
a governor over me, so soon as he has left the hawks' mew
behind him."
And with this comfortable reflection, joined to the happy
indifference which youth hath for the events of the morrow,
Roland Græme fell fast asleep.
THE ABBOT.
231
CHAPTER XX.
Now have you reft me from my staff, my guide,
Who taught my youth, as men teach untamed falcons
To use my strength discreetly-I am reft
Of comrade and of counsel !
Old Play.
IN the grey of the next morning's dawn there was a loud
knocking at the gate of the hostelry, and those without, pro-
claiming that they came in the name of the Regent, were in-
stantly admitted. A moment or two afterwards, Michael
Wing-the-Wind stood by the bedside of our travellers.
"Up!-up!" he said, "there is no slumber where Murray
hath work ado.”
Both sleepers sprung up, and began to dress themselves.
"You, old friend," said Wing-the-Wind to Adam Wood-
cock, “must to horse instantly, with this packet to the monks
of Kennaquhair, and with this," delivering them as he spoke,
"to the Knight of Avenel."
"As much as commanding the monks to annul their election,
I'll warrant me, of an abbot," quoth Adam Woodcock, as he
put the packets into his bag, "and charging my master to see
it done. To hawk at one brother with another is less than
fair play, methinks."
“Fash not thy beard about it, old boy," said Michael, “but
betake thee to the saddle presently; for if these orders are
not obeyed there will be bare walls at the kirk of St. Mary's,
and it may be at the Castle of Avenel to boot; for I heard my
Lord of Morton loud with the Regent, and we are at a pass
that we cannot stand with him anent trifles."
"But," said Adam, "touching the Abbot of Unreason-
what say they to that outbreak? An they be shrewishly dis-
posed, I were better pitch the packets to Satan, and take the
other side of the Border for my bield."
(6
Oh, that was passed over as a jest, since there was little
harm done. But, hark thee, Adam," continued his comrade,
"
232
i
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"if there were a dozen vacant abbacies in your road, whether
of jest or earnest, reason or unreason, draw thou never one of
their mitres over thy brows. The time is not fitting, man;
besides, our maiden longs to clip the neck of a fat church-
""
man.
"She shall never sheer mine in that capacity," said the fal-
coner, while he knotted the kerchief in two or three double
folds around his sunburnt bull-neck, calling out at the same
time, "Master Roland-Master Roland, make haste! we must
back to perch and mew, and, thank Heaven more than our
own wit, with our bones whole, and without a stab in the
stomach."
"Nay, but," said Wing-the-Wind, "the page goes not back
with you: the Regent has other employment for him."
"Saints and sorrows!" exclaimed the falconer.
"Master
Roland Græme to remain here, and I to return to Avenel!
Why, it cannot be: the child cannot manage himself in this
wide world without me, and I question if he will stoop to any
other whistle than mine own; there are times I myself can
hardly bring him to my lure.”
It was at Roland's tongue's end to say something concern-
ing the occasion they had for using mutually each other's
prudence; but the real anxiety which Adam evinced at part-
ing with him took away his disposition to such ungracious
raillery. The falconer did not altogether escape, however,
for, in turning his face towards the lattice, his friend Mi-
chael caught a glimpse of it, and exclaimed, "I prithee, Adam
Woodcock, what hast thou been doing with these eyes of
thine? They are swelled to the starting from the socket!”
"Nought in the world," said he, after casting a deprecating
glance at Roland Græme, "but the effect of sleeping in this
d-d truckle without a pillow."
66
Why, Adam Woodcock, thou must be grown strangely
dainty," said his old companion; "I have known thee sleep
all night with no better pillow than a bush of ling, and start
up with the sun as gleg as a falcon; and now thine eyes re-
semble_________"9
Tush, man, what signifies how mine eyes look now?” said
66
THE ABBOT.
233
Adam. "Let us but roast a crab-apple, pour a pottle of ale
on it, and bathe our throats withal, thou shalt see a change
in me."
"And thou wilt be in heart to sing thy jolly ballad about
the Pope?" said his comrade.
"Ay, that I will,” replied the faloner, "that is, when we
have left this quiet town five miles behind us, if you will take
your hobby and ride so far on my way."
"Nay, that I may not," said Michael; "I can but stop to
partake your morning's draught, and see you fairly to horse;
I will see that they saddle them, and toast the crab for thee,
without loss of time."
During his absence the falconer took the page by the hand.
"May I never hood hawk again," said the good-natured fel-
low, “if I am not sorry to part with you as if you were a
child of mine own, craving pardon for the freedom; I cannot
tell what makes me love you so much, unless it be for the
reason that I loved the vicious devil of a brown Galloway
nag, whom my master the knight called Satan, till Master
Warden changed his name to Seyton; for he said it was over-
boldness to call a beast after the King of Darkness
"And," said the page, "it was over-boldness in him, I
trow, to call a vicious brute after a noble family.”
"Well," proceeded Adam, "Seyton or Satan, I loved that
nag over every other horse in the stable. There was no sleep-
ing on his back: he was for ever fidgeting, bolting, rearing,
biting, kicking, and giving you work to do, and maybe the
measure of your back on the heather to the boot of it all.
And I think I love you better than any lad in the castle for
the self-same qualities."
22
"Thanks-thanks, kind Adam. I regard myself bound to
you for the good estimation in which you hold me.”
"Nay, interrupt me not," said the falconer; "Satan was a
good nag.
But I say, I think I shall call the two eyases
after you the one Roland and the other Græme; and, while
Adam Woodcock lives, be sure you have a friend. Here is to
thee, my dear son.”
Roland most heartily returned the grasp of the hand, and
234
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Woodcock, having taken a deep draught, continued his fare-
well speech.
"There are three things I warn you against, Roland, now
that you are to tread this weary world without my experience
to assist you.
In the first place, never draw dagger on slight
occasion: every man's doublet is not so well stuffed as a cer-
tain abbot's that you wot of. Secondly, fly not at every pretty
girl, like a merlin at a thrush; you will not always win a gold
chain for your labour; and, by the way, here I return to you
your fanfarona; keep it close, it is weighty, and may benefit
you at a pinch more ways than one. Thirdly, and to con-
clude, as our worthy preacher says, beware of the pottle-pot:
it has drenched the judgment of wiser men than you. I could
bring some instances of it, but I dare say it needeth not; for
if you should forget your own mishaps, you will scarce fail
to remember mine. And so farewell, my dear son.
""
Roland returned his good wishes, and failed not to send his
humble duty to his kind lady, charging the falconer at the
same time to express his regret that he should have offended.
her, and his determination so to bear him in the world that
she would not be ashamed of the generous protection she had
afforded him.
The falconer embraced his young friend, mounted his stout,
round-made, trotting nag, which the serving-man who had
attended him held ready at the door, and took the road to
the southward. A sullen and heavy sound echoed from the
horse's feet, as if indicating the sorrow of the good-natured
rider. Every hoof-tread seemed to tap upon Roland's heart as
he heard his comrade withdraw with so little of his usual alert.
activity, and felt that he was once more alone in the world.
He was roused from his reverie by Michael Wing-the-Wind,
who reminded him that it was necessary they should instantly
return to the palace, as my Lord Regent went to the sessions
early in the morning. They went thither accordingly, and
Wing-the-Wind, a favourite old domestic, who was admitted
nearer to the Regent's person and privacy than many whose
posts were more ostensible, soon introduced Græme into a
small matted chamber, where he had an audience of the pres-
THE ABBOT.
235
ent head of the troubled state of Scotland. The Earl of Mur-
ray was clad in a sad-coloured morning-gown, with a cap and
slippers of the same cloth; but even in this easy dishabille,
held his sheathed rapier in his hand-a precaution which
he adopted when receiving strangers, rather in compliance
with the earnest remonstrances of his friends and partizans
than from any personal apprehensions of his own.
He an-
swered with a silent nod the respectful obeisance of the page,
and took one or two turns through the small apartment in si-
lence, fixing his keen eye on Roland, as if he wished to pene-
trate into his very soul. At length he broke silence.
"Your name is, I think, Julian Græme?"
Ro-
"Roland Græme, my lord-not Julian," replied the page.
"Right—I was misled by some trick of my memory.
land Græme, from the Debateable Land.
est the duties which belong to a lady's service?"
Roland, thou know-
“I should know them, my lord,” replied Roland, "having
been bred so near the person of my Lady of Avenel; but I
trust never more to practise them, as the knight hath prom-
ised"
"Be silent, young man," said the Regent; "I am to speak,
and you to hear and obey. It is necessary that, for some
space at least, you shall again enter into the service of a lady,
who in rank hath no equal in Scotland; and this service ac-
complished, I give thee my word as knight and prince that it
shall open to you a course of ambition such as may well grati-
fy the aspiring wishes of one whom circumstances entitle to
entertain much higher views than thou. I will take thee into
my household and near to my person, or, at your choice, I will
give you the command of a foot-company; either is a prefer-
ment which the proudest laird in the land might be glad to
ensure for a second son."
1
-
“May I presume to ask, my lord," said Roland, observing
the Earl paused for a reply, "to whom my poor services are
in the first place destined?"
"You will be told hereafter," said the Regent; and then,
as if overcoming some internal reluctance to speak further
himself, he added, "or why should I not myself tell you that
236
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
you are about to enter into the service of a most illustrious—
most unhappy, lady-into the service of Mary of Scotland."
Of the Queen, my lord?" said the page, unable to repress
his surprise.
66
"Of her who was the Queen!" said Murray, with a singular
mixture of displeasure and embarrassment in his tone of voice.
You must be aware, young man, that her son reigns in her
stead.'
66
He sighed from an emotion partly natural, perhaps, and
partly assumed.
"And am I to attend upon her Grace in her place of impris-
onment, my lord?" again demanded the page, with a straight-
forward and hardy simplicity which somewhat disconcerted
the sage and powerful statesman.
"She is not imprisoned," answered Murray, angrily,
"God
forbid she should: she is only sequestrated from state affairs,
and from the business of the public, until the world be so
effectually settled that she may enjoy her natural and uncon-
trolled freedom, without her royal disposition being exposed
to the practices of wicked and designing men. It is for this
purpose," he added, "that, while she is to be furnished, as
right is, with such attendance as may befit her present se-
cluded state, it becomes necessary that those placed around
her are persons on whose prudence I can have reliance. You
see, therefore, you are at once called on to discharge an office
most honourable in itself, and so to discharge it that you may
make a friend of the Regent of Scotland. Thou art, I have
been told, a singularly apprehensive youth; and I perceive
by thy look that thou dost already understand what I would
say on this matter. In this schedule your particular points
of duty are set down at length; but the sum required of you
is fidelity—I mean fidelity to myself and to the state. You
are therefore, to watch every attempt which is made, or incli-
nation displayed, to open any communication with any of the
lords who have become banders in the west-with Hamilton,
Seyton, with Fleming, or the like. It is true that my gracious
sister, reflecting upon the ill chances that have happed to
the state of this poor kingdom, from evil counsellors who have
99
THE ABBOT.
237
abused her royal nature in time past, hath determined to
sequestrate herself from state affairs in future.
But it is our
duty, as acting for and in the name of our infant nephew, to
guard against the evils which may arise from any mutation
or vacillation in her royal resolutions. Wherefore it will be
thy duty to watch, and report to our lady mother, whose guest
our sister is for the present, whatever may infer a disposition
to withdraw her person from the place of security in which
she is lodged, or to open communication with those without.
If, however, your observation should detect anything of
weight, and which may exceed mere suspicion, fail not to send
notice by an especial messenger to me directly, and this ring
shall be thy warrant to order horse and man on such service.
And now begone. If there be half the wit in thy head that
there is apprehension in thy look, thou fully comprehendest
all that I would say. Serve me faithfully, and sure as I am
belted earl thy reward shall be great."
Roland Græme made an obeisance, and was about to depart.
The Earl signed to him to remain. "I have trusted thee
deeply," he said, "young man, for thou art the only one of
her suite who has been sent to her by my own recommenda-
tion. Her gentlewomen are of her own nomination: it were
too hard to have barred her that privilege, though some there
were who reckoned it inconsistent with sure policy. Thou
art young and handsome. Mingle in their follies, and see
they cover not deeper designs under the appearance of female
levity; if they do mine, do thou countermine. For the rest,
bear all decorum and respect to the person of thy mistress:
she is a princess, though a most unhappy one, and hath been
a queen, though now, alas! no longer such. Pay, therefore,
to her all honour and respect consistent with thy fidelity to
the King and me. And now, farewell! Yet stay—you travel
with Lord Lindesay, a man of the old world, rough and hon-
est, though untaught; see that thou offend him not, for he
is not patient of raillery, and thou, I have heard, art a crack-
halter." This he said with a smile; then added, "I could
have wished the Lord Lindesay's mission had been entrusted
to some other and more gentle noble.”
-
-
238
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"And wherefore should you wish that, my lord?" said
Morton, who even then entered the apartment; "the council
have decided for the best; we have had but too many proofs
of this lady's stubbornness of mind, and the oak that resists
the sharp steel axe must be riven with the rugged iron wedge.
And this is to be her page? My Lord Regent hath doubtless
instructed you, young man, how you shall guide yourself in
these matters; I will add but a little hint on my part. You
are going to the castle of a Douglas, where treachery never
thrives: the first moment of suspicion will be the last of your
life. My kinsman, William Douglas, understands no raillery,
and if he once have cause to think you false, you will waver
in the wind from the castle battlements ere the sun set upon
his anger.
And is the lady to have an almoner withal?”
"Occasionally, Douglas," said the Regent; "it were hard to
deny the spiritual consolation which she thinks essential to her
salvation."
""
You are ever too soft-hearted, my lord. What! a false
priest to communicate her lamentations not only to our un-
friends in Scotland, but to the Guises, to Rome, to Spain, and
I know not where!"
"Fear not,” said the Regent, "we will take such order that
no treachery shall happen.
""
"Look to it, then," said Morton; "you know my mind re-
specting the wench you have consented she shall receive as a
waiting-woman-one of a family which, of all others, has ever
been devoted to her and inimical to us. Had we not been
wary, she would have been purveyed of a page as much to her
purpose as her waiting-damsel. I hear a rumour that an old
mad Romish pilgrimer, who passes for at least half a saint
among them, was employed to find a fit subject.”
"We have escaped that danger at least," said Murray, "and
converted it into a point of advantage by sending this boy of
Glendinning's; and for her waiting-damsel, you cannot grudge
her one poor maiden instead of her four noble Maries and all
their silken train?”
"I care not so much for the waiting-maiden," said Morton,
"but I cannot brook the almoner: I think priests of all per-

Francois Flamen
522
BREYT
G
4270
Erthy
1122
BRIS
PSERVEROTUR
***Is this the jackanape page for whom we have waited so long?""
Abbot, Chap. xx., p 239.
THE ABBOT.
239
suasions are much like each other. Here is John Knox, who
made such a noble puller-down, is ambitious of becoming a
setter-up, and a founder of schools and colleges out of the ab-
bey lands, and bishops' rents, and other spoils of Rome, which
the nobility of Scotland have won with their sword and bow,
and with which he would now endow new hives to sing the
old drone."
"John is a man of God," said the Regent, "and his scheme
is a devout imagination."
The sedate smile with which this was spoken left it impos-
sible to conjecture whether the words were meant in approba-
bation or in derision of the plan of the Scottish Reformer.
Turning then to Roland Græme, as if he thought he had been
long enough a witness of this conversation, he bade him get
him presently to horse, since my Lord of Lindesay was already
mounted. The page made his reverence, and left the apart
ment.
-
Guided by Michael Wing-the-Wind, he found his horse
ready saddled and prepared for the journey in front of the
palace porch, where hovered about a score of men-at-arms,
whose leader showed no small symptoms of surly impatience.
'Is this the jackanape page for whom we have waited thus
long?" said he to Wing-the-Wind. "And my Lord Ruthven
will reach the castle long before us!"
66
Michael assented, and added that the boy had been detained
by the Regent to receive some parting instructions. The
leader made an inarticulate sound in his throat, expressive of
sullen acquiescence, and calling to one of his domestic attend-
ants, "Edward," said he, "take the gallant into your charge,
and let him speak with no one else.”
He then addressed, by the title of Sir Robert, an elderly
and respectable-looking gentleman, the only one of the party
who seemed above the rank of a retainer or domestic, and ob-
served that they must get to horse with all speed.
Duirng this discourse, and while they were riding slowly
along the street of the suburb, Roland had time to examine
more accurately the looks and figure of the baron who was at
their head.
240
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Lord Lindesay of the Byres was rather touched than strick-
en with years.
His upright stature and strong limbs still
showed him fully equal to all the exertions and fatigues of war.
His thick eyebrows, now partially grizzled, lowered over large
eyes full of dark fire, which seemed yet darker from the uncom-
mon depth at which they were set in his head.
His features,
naturally strong and harsh, had their sternness exaggerated
by one or two scars received in battle. These features, natu-
rally calculated to express the harsher passions, were shaded
by an open steel cap, with projecting front, but having no
visor, over the gorget of which fell the black and grizzled
beard of the grim old baron, and totally hid the lower part of
his face. The rest of his dress was a loose buff-coat, which
had once been lined with silk and adorned with embroidery,
but which seemed much stained with travel and damaged with
cuts, received probably in battle. It covered a corslet which
had once been of polished steel, fairly gilded, but was now
somewhat injured with rust. A sword of antique make and
uncommon size, framed to be wielded with both hands, a kind
of weapon which was then beginning to go out of use, hung
from his neck in a baldric, and was so disposed as to traverse
his whole person, the huge hilt appearing over his left shoul-
der, and the point reaching wellnigh to the right heel, and
jarring against his spur as he walked. This unwieldy weapon
could only be unsheathed by pulling the handle over the left
shoulder, for no human arm was long enough to draw it in the
usual manner. The whole equipment was that of a rude
warrior, negligent of his exterior even to misanthropical sul-
lenness; and the short, harsh, haughty tone which he used
towards his attendants belonged to the same unpolished
character.
The personage who rode with Lord Lindesay at the head of
the party was an absolute contrast to him in manner, form,
and features. His thin and silky hair was already white,
though he seemed not above forty-five or fifty years old. His
tone of voice was soft and insinuating; his form thin, spare,
and bent by an habitual stoop; his pale cheek was expressive
of shrewdness and intelligence; his eye was quick though
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241
placid, and his whole demeanour mild and conciliatory.
rode an ambling nag, such as were used by ladies, clergymen,
or others of peaceful professions; wore a riding habit of black
velvet, with a cap and feather of the same hue, fastened up by
a golden medal; and for show, and as a mark of rank rath-
er than for use, carried a walking sword (as the short light
rapiers were called), without any other arms, offensive or
defensive.
He
INS
The party had now quitted the town, and proceeded, at a
steady trot, towards the west. As they prosecuted their jour-
ney, Roland Græme would gladly have learned something of
its purpose and tendency, but the countenance of the person-
age next to whom he had been placed in the train discouraged
all approach of familiarity. The baron himself did not look
more grim and inaccessible than his feudal retainer, whose
grisly beard fell over his mouth like the portcullis before the
gate of a castle, as if the purpose of preventing the escape of
any word of which absolute necessity did not demand the ut-
terance. The rest of the train seemed under the same taci-
turn influence, and journeyed on without a word being ex-
changed amongst them, more like a troop of Carthusian friars
than a party of military retainers. Roland Græme was sur-
prised at this extremity of discipline; for even in the house-
hold of the Knight of Avenel, though somewhat distinguished
for the accuracy with which decorum was enforced, a journey
was a period of license, during which jest and song, and
everything within the limits of becoming mirth and pastime,
was freely permitted. This unusual silence was, however, so
far acceptable that it gave him time to bring any shadow of
judgment which he possessed to council on his own situation
and prospects, which would have appeared to any reasonable
person in the highest degree dangerous and perplexing.
It was quite evident that he had, through various circum-
stances not under his own control, formed contradictory con-
nexions with both the contending factions by whose strife the
kingdom was distracted, without being properly an adherent
of either. It seemed also clear that the same situation in the
household of the deposed Queen, to which he was now pro-
16
242
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
moted by the influence of the Regent, had been destined to
him by his enthusiastic grandmother, Magdalen Græme; for
on this subject the words which Morton had dropped had been
a ray of light; yet it was no less clear that these two persons,
the one the declared enemy, the other the enthusiastic votary,
of the Catholic religion; the one at the head of the King's new
government, the other who regarded that government as a
criminal usurpation, must have required and expected very
different services from the individual whom they had thus
united in recommending. It required very little reflection to
foresee that these contradictory claims on his service might
speedily place him in a situation where his honour as well as
his life might be endangered. But it was not in Roland
Græme's nature to anticipate evil before it came, or to prepare
to combat difficulties before they arrived. "I will see this
beautiful and unfortunate Mary Stuart," he said, "of whom
we have heard so much, and then there will be time enough
to determine whether I will be kingsman or queensman. None
of them can say I have given word or promise to either of
their factions; for they have led me up and down like a blind
Billy, without giving me any light into what I was to do.
But it was lucky that grim Douglas came into the Regent's
closet this morning, otherwise I had never got free of him
without plighting my troth to do all the Earl would have me,
which seemed, after all, but foul play to the poor imprisoned
lady, to place her page as an espial on her.”
Skipping thus lightly over a matter of such consequence,
the thoughts of the harebrained boy went a-woolgathering
after more agreeable topics. Now he admired the Gothic
towers of Barnbougle, rising from the sea-beaten rock, and
overlooking one of the most glorious landscapes in Scotland;
and now he began to consider what notable sport for the hounds
and the hawks must be afforded by the variegated ground over
which they travelled; and now he compared the steady and
dull trot at which they were then prosecuting their journey
with the delight of sweeping over hill and dale in pursuit of
his favourite sports. As, under the influence of these joyous
recollections, he gave his horse the spur, and made him exe-
THE ABBOT.
243
↓
cute a gambade, he instantly incurred the censure of his grave
neighbour, who hinted to him to keep the pace, and move
quietly and in order, unless he wished such notice to be taken
of his eccentric movements as was likely to be very displeas-
ing to him.
The rebuke and the restraint under which the youth now
found himself brought back to his recollection his late good-
humoured and accommodating associate and guide, Adam
Woodcock; and from that topic his imagination made a short
flight to Avenel Castle, to the quiet and unconfined life of its
inhabitants, the goodness of his early protectress, not forget-
ting the denizens of its stables, kennels, and hawk-mews. In
a brief space, all these subjects of meditation gave way to the
remembrance of that riddle of womankind, Catherine Seyton,
who appeared before the eye of his mind now in her female
form, now in her male attire, now in both at once, like some
strange dream, which presents to us the same individual under
two different characters at the same instant. Her mysterious
present also recurred to his recollection-the sword which he
now wore at his side, and which he was not to draw, save by
command of his legitimate sovereign! But the key of this
mystery he judged he was likely to find in the issue of his
present journey.
With such thoughts passing through his mind, Roland
Græme accompanied the party of Lord Lindesay to the Queen's
Ferry, which they passed in vessels that lay in readiness for
them. They encountered no adventure whatever in their
passage, excepting one horse being lamed in getting into the
boat-an incident very common on such occasions, until a
few years ago, when the ferry was completely regulated.
What was more peculiarly characteristic of the olden age was
the discharge of a culverin at the party from the battlements
of the old castle of Rosythe, on the north side of the ferry,
the lord of which happened to have some public or private
quarrel with the Lord Lindesay, and took this mode of ex-
pressing his resentment. The insult, however, as it was harm-
less, remained unnoticed and unavenged, nor did anything else
occur worth notice until the band had come where Lochleven
→
244
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
spread its magnificent sheet of waters to the beams of a bright
summer sun.
The ancient castle, which occupies an island nearly in the
centre of the lake, recalled to the page that of Avenel, in
which he had been nurtured. But the lake was much larger,
and adorned with several islets besides that on which the for-
tress was situated; and instead of being embosomed in hills
like that of Avenel, had upon the southern side only a splen-
did mountainous screen, being the descent of one of the Lo-
mond hills, and on the other was surrounded by the extensive
and fertile plain of Kinross. Roland Græme looked with
some degree of dismay on the water-girdled fortress, which
then, as now, consisted only of one large donjon-keep, sur-
rounded with a courtyard, with two round flanking towers at
the angles, which contained within its circuit some other
buildings of inferior importance. A few old trees, clustered
together near the castle, gave some relief to the air of desolate
seclusion; but yet the page, while he gazed upon a building
so sequestrated, could not but feel for the situation of a cap-
tive princess doomed to dwell there, as well as for his own.
"I must have been born," he thought, "under the star that
presides over ladies and lakes of water, for I cannot by any
means escape from the service of the one or from dwelling in
the other. But if they allow me not the fair freedom of my
sport and exercise, they shall find it as hard to confine a wild
drake as a youth who can swim like one."
The band had now reached the edge of the water, and one
of the party advancing displayed Lord Lindesay's pennon,
waving it repeatedly to and fro, while that baron himself blew
a clamorous blast on his bugle. A banner was presently dis-
played from the roof of the castle in reply to these signals,
and one or two figures were seen busied as if unmooring a
boat which lay close to the islet.
"It will be some time ere they can reach us with the boat,"
said the companion of the Lord Lindesay; "should we not do
well to proceed to the town, and array ourselves in some bet-
ter order, ere we appear before-
"You may do as you list, Sir Robert," replied Lindesay, "I
رو
THE ABBOT.
245
She
have neither time nor temper to waste on such vanities.
has cost me many a hard ride, and must not now take offence
at the threadbare cloak and soiled doublet that I am arrayed
in. It is the livery to which she has brought all Scotland."
"Do not speak so harshly," said Sir Robert; "if she hath
done wrong, she hath dearly abyed it; and in losing all real
power, one would not deprive her of the little external hom-
age due at once to a lady and a princess.”
"I say to you once more, Sir Robert Melville,” replied
Lindesay, "do as you will; for me, I am now too old to dink
myself as a gallant to grace the bower of dames."
"The bower of dames, my lord!" said Melville, looking
at the rude old tower: "is it yon dark and grated castle,
the prison of a captive queen, to which you gave so gay a
name?"
"Name it as you list," replied Lindesay; "had the Regent
desired to send an envoy capable to speak to a captive queen,
there are many gallants in his court who would have courted
the occasion to make speeches out of Amadis of Gaul or the
Mirror of Knighthood. But when he sent blunt old Lindesay,
he knew he would speak to a misguided woman as her former
misdoings and her present state render necessary. I sought
not this employment: it has been thrust upon me; and I will
not cumber myself with more form in the discharge of it than
needs must be tacked to such an occupation."
So saying, Lord Lindesay threw himself from horseback,
and, wrapping his riding-cloak around him, lay down at lazy
length upon the sward, to await the arrival of the boat, which
was now seen rowing from the castle towards the shore. Sir
Robert Melville, who had also dismounted, walked at short
turns to and fro upon the bank, his arms crossed on his breast,
often looking to the castle, and displaying in his countenance
a mixture of sorrow and of anxiety. The rest of the party
sate like statues on horseback, without moving so much as
the points of their lances, which they held upright in the
air.
As soon as the boat approached a rude quay or landing-
place near to which they had stationed themselves, Lord
246
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Lindesay started up from his recumbent posture, and asked the
person who steered why he had not brought a larger boat with
him to transport his retinue.
"So please you," replied the boatman, "because it is the
order of our lady that we bring not to the castle more than
four persons.
""
"Thy lady is a wise woman," said Lindesay, "to suspect
me of treachery! Or, had I intended it, what is to hinder us
from throwing you and your comrades into the lake and fill-
ing the boat with my own fellows?”
The steersman, on hearing this, made a hasty signal to his
men to back their oars, and hold off from the shore which
they were approaching.
"Why, thou ass," said Lindesay, "thou didst not think
that I meant thy fool's head serious harm? Hark thee, friend,
with fewer than three servants I will go no whither; Sir Rob-
ert Melville will require at least the attendance of one domes-
tic; and it will be at your peril and your lady's to refuse us
admission, come hither as we are on matters of great national
concern.'
رو
The steersman answered with firmness, but with great civil-
ity of expression, that his orders were positive to bring no
more than four into the island, but he offered to row back to
obtain a revisal of his instructions.
"Do so, my friend," said Sir Robert Melville, after he had
in vain endeavoured to persuade his stubborn companion to
consent to a temporary abatement of his train: "row back to
the castle, sith it will be no better, and obtain thy lady's or-
ders to transport the Lord Lindesay, myself, and our retinue
thither."
"And hearken," said Lord Lindesay, "take with you this
page, who comes as an attendant on your lady's guest. Dis-
mount, sirrah,” said he, addressing Roland, "and embark
with them in that boat."
"And what is to become of my horse?" said Græme; "I
am answerable for him to my master.'
22
"I will relieve you of the charge," said Lindesay; "thou
wilt have little enow to do with horse, saddle, or bridle for
THE ABBOT.
247
ten years to come. Thou mayst take the halter an thou wilt:
it may stand thee in a turn.
"2
"If I thought so," said Roland-
But he was interrupted by Sir Robert Melville, who said
to him, good-humouredly: "Dispute it not, young friend: re-
sistance can do no good, but may well run thee into danger."
Roland Græme felt the justice of what he said, and, though
neither delighted with the matter nor manner of Lindesay's
address, deemed it best to submit to necessity, and to embark
without further remonstrance. The men plied their oars.
The quay, with the party of horse stationed near it, receded
from the page's eyes, the castle and the islet seemed to draw
near in the same proportion, and in a brief space he landed
under the shadow of a huge old tree which overhung the
landing-place. The steersman and Græme leaped ashore;
the boatmen remained lying on their oars ready for further
service.
CHAPTER XXI.
Could valour aught avail or people's love,
France had not wept Navarre's brave Henry slain;
If wit or beauty could compassion move,
The Rose of Scotland had not wept in vain.
LEWIS, Elegy in a Royal Mausoleum.
Ar the gate of the courtyard of Lochleven appeared the
stately form of the Lady of Lochleven, a female whose early
charms had captivated James V., by whom she became moth-
er of the celebrated Regent Murray. As she was of noble.
birth, being a daughter of the house of Mar, and of great
beauty, her intimacy with James did not prevent her being
afterwards sought in honourable marriage by many gallants of
the time, among whom she preferred Sir William Douglas of
Lochleven. But well has it been said,-
Our pleasant vices
Are made the whips to scourge us.
The station which the Lady of Lochleven now held as the wife
of a man of high rank and interest, and the mother of a law-
248
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
·
ful family, did not prevent her nourishing a painful sense of
degradation, even while she was proud of the talents, the power,
and the station of her son, now prime ruler of the state, but
still a pledge of her illicit intercourse. "Had James done to
her," she said in her secret heart, "the justice he owed her,
she had seen in her son, as a source of unmixed delight and of
unchastened pride, the lawful monarch of Scotland, and one
of the ablest who ever swayed the sceptre. The house of Mar,
not inferior in antiquity or grandeur to that of Drummond,
would then have also boasted a queen among its daughters,
and escaped the stain attached to female frailty, even when
it has a royal lover for its apology." While such feelings
preyed on a bosom naturally proud and severe, they had a cor-
responding effect on her countenance, where, with the remains
of great beauty, were mingled traits indicative of inward dis-
content and peevish melancholy. It perhaps contributed to
increase this habitual temperament, that the Lady Lochleven
had adopted uncommonly rigid and severe views of religion,
imitating in her ideas of Reformed faith the very worst errors
of the Catholics, in limiting the benefit of the Gospel to those
who profess their own speculative tenets.
In every respect, the unfortunate Queen Mary, now the com-
pulsory guest, or rather prisoner, of this sullen lady, was ob-
noxious to her hostess. Lady Lochleven disliked her as the
daugther of Mary of Guise, the legal possessor of those rights
over James's heart and hand of which she conceived herself to
have been injuriously deprived; and yet more so as the profes-
sor of a religion which she detested worse than paganism.
Such was the dame who, with stately mien, and sharp yet
handsome features, shrouded by her black velvet coif, inter-
rogated the domestic who steered her barge to the shore, what
had become of Lindesay and Sir Robert Melville. The man
related what had passed, and she smiled scornfully as she re-
plied: "Fools must be flattered, not foughten with. Row
back-make thy excuse as thou canst-say Lord Ruthven
hath already reached this castle, and that he is impatient for
Lord Lindesay's presence. Away with thee, Randal—yet stay,
what galopin is that thou hast brought hither?"
+
i
THE ABBOT.
249
"So please you, my lady, he is the page who is to wait
دو
upon-
"Ay, the new male minion," said the Lady Lochleven;
"the female attendant arrived yesterday. I shall have a
well-ordered house with this lady and her retinue; but I trust
they will soon find some others to undertake such a charge.
Begone, Randal; and you (to Roland Græme), follow me to
the garden."
She led the way with a slow and stately step to the small
garden, which, inclosed by a stone wall ornamented with
statues, and an artificial fountain in the centre, extended its
dull parterres on the side of the courtyard, with which it com-
municated by a low and arched portal. Within the narrow
circuit of its formal and limited walks, Mary Stuart was now
learning to perform the weary part of a prisoner, which, with
little interval, she was doomed to sustain during the remainder
of her life. She was followed in her slow and melancholy
exercise by two female attendants; but in the first glance
which Roland Græme bestowed upon one so illustrious by
birth, so distinguished by her beauty, accomplishments, and
misfortunes, he was sensible of the presence of no other than
the unhappy Queen of Scotland.
-
Her face, her form, have been so deeply impressed upon
the imagination that, even at the distance of nearly three cen-
turies, it is unnecessary to remind the most ignorant and un-
informed reader of the striking traits which characterise that
remarkable countenance, which seems at once to combine our
ideas of the majestic, the pleasing, and the brilliant, leaving
us to doubt whether they express most happily the queen, the
beauty, or the accomplished woman. Who is there that, at
the very mention of Mary Stuart's name, has not her counte-
nance before him, familiar as that of the mistress of his youth,
or the favourite daughter of his advanced age? Even those
who feel themselves compelled to believe all, or much, of
what her enemies laid to her charge, cannot think without a
sigh upon a countenance expressive of anything rather than
the foul crimes with which she was charged when living and
which still continue to shade, if not to blacken, her memory.
250
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
That brow, so truly open and regal; those eyebrows, so regu-
larly graceful, which yet were saved from the charge of regu-
lar insipidity by the beautiful effect of the hazel eyes which
they overarched, and which seem to utter a thousand histories;
the nose, with all its Grecian precision of outline; the mouth,
so well proportioned, so sweetly formed, as if designed to
speak nothing but what was delightful to hear; the dimpled
chin; the stately, swan-like neck-form a countenance the
like of which we know not to have existed in any other char-
acter moving in that high class of life where the actresses as
well as the actors command general and undivided attention.
It is in vain to say that the portraits which exist of this re-
markable woman are not like each other; for, amidst their
discrepancy, each possesses general features which the eye at
once acknowledges as peculiar to the vision which our imagi-
nation has raised while we read her history for the first time,
and which has been impressed upon it by the numerous prints
and pictures which we have seen. Indeed, we cannot look on
the worst of them, however deficient in point of execution,
without saying that it is meant for Queen Mary; and no small
instance it is of the power of beauty, that her charms should
have remained the subject not merely of admiration, but of
warm and chivalrous interest, after the lapse of such a length
of time. We know that by far the most acute of those who,
in latter days, have adopted the unfavourable view of Mary's
character, longed, like the executioner before his dreadful task
was performed, to kiss the fair hand of her on whom he was
about to perform so horrible a duty.
Dressed, then, in a deep mourning robe, and with all those
charms of face, shape, and manner with which faithful tradi-
tion has made each reader familiar, Mary Stuart advanced to
meet the Lady of Lochleven, who, on her part, endeavoured
to conceal dislike and apprehension under the appearance of
respectful indifference. The truth was, that she had ex-
perienced repeatedly the Queen's superiority in that species
of disguised yet cutting sarcasm with which women can suc-
cessfully avenge themselves for real and substantial injuries.
It may be well doubted whether this talent was not as fatal
-
-
THE ABBOT.
251
to its possessor as the many others enjoyed by that highly
gifted, but most unhappy, female; for, while it often afforded
her a momentary triumph over her keepers, it failed not to
exasperate their resentment; and the satire and sarcasm in
which she had indulged were frequently retaliated by the
deep and bitter hardships which they had the power of inflict-
ing. It is well known that her death was at length hastened
by a letter which she wrote to Queen Elizabeth, in which she
treated her jealous rival and the Countess of Shrewsbury with
the keenest irony and ridicule.
As the ladies met together, the Queen said, bending her
head at the same time in return to the obeisance of the Lady
Lochleven: "We are this day fortunate: we enjoy the com-
pany of our amiable hostess at an unusual hour, and during
a period which we have hitherto been permitted to give to our
private exercise. But our good hostess knows well she has at
all times access to our presence, and need not observe the use-
less ceremony of requiring our permission."
"I am sorry my presence is deemed an intrusion by your
Grace," said the Lady of Lochleven. "I came but to an-
nounce the arrival of an addition to your train," motioning
with her hand towards Roland Græme, "a circumstance to
which ladies are seldom indifferent."
"Oh! I crave your ladyship's pardon; and am bent to the
earth with obligations for the kindness of my nobles-or my
sovereigns shall I call them?—who have permitted me such a
respectable addition to my personal retinue."
“They have indeed studied, madam," said the Lady of
Lochleven, "to show their kindness towards your Grace,
something at the risk perhaps of sound policy, and I trust
their doings will not be misconstrued."
"Impossible!" said the Queen; "the bounty which permits.
the daughter of so many kings, and who, yet is queen of the
realm, the attendance of two waiting-women and a boy, is a
grace which Mary Stuart can never sufficiently acknowledge.
Why! my train will be equal to that of any country dame in
this your kingdom of Fife, saving but the lack of a gentleman-
usher and a pair or two of blue-coated serving-men. But I
252
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
must not forget, in my selfish joy, the additional trouble and
charges to which this magnificent augmentation of our train
will put our kind hostess and the whole house of Lochleven.
It is this prudent anxiety, I am aware, which clouds your brows,
my worthy lady. But be of good cheer: the crown of Scot-
land has many a fair manor, and your affectionate son, and my
no less affectionate brother, will endow the good knight your
husband with the best of them, ere Mary should be dismissed
from this hospitable castle from your ladyship's lack of means
to support the charges."
"The Douglasses of Lochleven, madam," answered the lady,
"have known for ages how to discharge their duty to the state,
without looking for reward, even when the task was both irk-
some and dangerous."
"Nay! but, my dear Lochleven," said the Queen, "you are
over-scrupulous: I pray you accept of a goodly manor; what
should support the Queen of Scotland, in this her princely
court, saving her own crown-lands; and who should minister
to the wants of a mother, save an affectionate son like the
Earl of Murray, who possesses so wonderfully both the power
and inclination? Or said you it was the danger of the task
which clouded your smooth and hospitable brow? No doubt,
a page is a formidable addition to my body-guard of females;
and I bethink me it must have been for that reason that my
Lord of Lindesay refused even now to venture within the
reach of a force so formidable, without being attended by a
competent retinue.”
The Lady Lochleven started, and looked something sur-
prised; and Mary, suddenly changing her manner from the
smooth, ironical affectation of mildness to an accent of austere
command, and drawing up at the same time her fine person,
said, with the full majesty of her rank: "Yes! Lady of Loch-
leven, I know that Ruthven is already in the castle, and that
Lindesay waits on the bank the return of your barge to bring
him hither along with Sir Robert Melville. For what purpose
do these nobles come? and why am I not in ordinary decency
apprised of their arrival?”
"Their purpose, madam," replied the Lady of Lochleven,
I
THE ABBOT.
253
"they must themselves explain; but a formal annunciation
were needless, where your Grace hath attendants who can
play the espial so well.”
-
"Alas! poor Fleming," said the Queen, turning to the elder
of the female attendants, "thou wilt be tried, condemned, and
gibbeted for a spy in the garrison, because thou didst chance
to cross the great hall while my good Lady of Lochleven was
parleying at the full pitch of her voice with her pilot Randal.
Put black wool in thy ears, girl, as you value the wearing of
them longer. Remember, in the Castle of Lochleven, ears
and tongues are matters not of use, but for show merely. Our
good hostess can hear, as well as speak, for us all. We ex-
cuse your further attendance, my lady hostess," she said, once
more addressing the object of her resentment, "and retire to
prepare for an interview with our rebel lords. We will use
the ante-chamber of our sleeping apartment as our hall of
audience. You, young man," she proceeded, addressing Ro-
land Græme, and at once softening the ironical sharpness of
her manner into good-humoured raillery-"you, who are all
our male attendance, from our Lord High Chamberlain down
to our least galopin, follow us to prepare our court."
She turned, and walked slowly towards the castle. The
Lady of Lochleven folded her arms, and smiled in bitter re-
sentment, as she watched her retiring steps.
"Thy whole male attendance!" she muttered, repeating
the Queen's last words, "and well for thee had it been had
thy train never been larger"; then turning to Roland, in
whose way she had stood while making this pause, she made
room for him to pass, saying at the same time: “Art thou
already eavesdropping? follow thy mistress, minion, and, if
thou wilt, tell her what I have now said."
Roland Græme hastened after his royal mistress and her
attendants, who had just entered a postern gate communicat-
ing betwixt the castle and the small garden. They ascended
a winding stair as high as the second story, which was in a
great measure occupied by a suite of three rooms, opening into
each other, and assigned as the dwelling of the captive princess.
The outermost was a small hall or ante-room, within which
254
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
opened a large parlour, and from that again the Queen's bed-
room. Another small apartment, which opened into the same
parlour, contained the beds of the gentlewomen in waiting.
Roland Græme stopped, as became his station, in the outer-
most of these apartments, there to await such orders as might
be communicated to him. From the grated window of the
room he saw Lindesay, Melville, and their followers disembark;
and observed that they were met at the castle gate by a third
noble, to whom Lindesay exclaimed, in his loud harsh voice:
"My Lord of Ruthven, you have the start of us!"
At this instant the page's attention was called to a burst of
hysterical sobs from the inner apartment, and to the hurried
ejaculations of the terrified females, which led him almost in-
stantly to hasten to their assistance. When he entered, he
saw that the Queen had thrown herself into the large chair
which stood nearest the door, and was sobbing for breath
in a strong fit of hysterical affection. The elder female sup-
ported her in her arms, while the younger bathed her face
with water and with tears alternately.
"Hasten, young man!" said the elder lady, in alarm-
“fly—call in assistance; she is swooning!”
But the Queen ejaculated in a faint and broken voice: "Stir
not, I charge you!-call no one to witness; I am better-I shall
recover instantly." And, indeed, with an effort which seemed
like that of one struggling for life, she sate up in her chair and
endeavoured to resume her composure, while her features yet
trembled with the violent emotion of body and mind which
she had undergone. "I am ashamed of my weakness, girls,"
she said, taking the hands of her attendants; "but it is over-
and I am Mary Stuart once more. The savage tone of that
man's voice-my knowledge of his insolence-the name which
he named the purpose for which they come, may excuse a
moment's weakness, and it shall be a moment's only." She
snatched from her head the curch, or cap, which had been
disordered during her hysterical agony; shook down the thick
clustered tresses of dark brown which had been before veiled
under it; and, drawing her slender fingers across the labyrinth
which they formed, she arose from the chair, and stood like
Bed
THE ABBOT.
255
the inspired image of a Grecian prophetess, in a mood which
partook at once of sorrow and pride, of smiles and of tears.
"We are ill appointed," she said, "to meet our rebel subjects;
but, as far as we may, we will strive to present ourselves as
becomes their queen. Follow me, my maidens," she said,
"what says thy favourite song, my Fleming?-
My maids, come to my dressing-bower,
And deck my nut-brown hair;
Where'er ye laid a plait before,
Look ye lay ten times mair.
66
Alas!" she added, when she had repeated with a smile these
lines of an old ballad, violence has already robbed me of the
ordinary decorations of my rank; and the few that nature
gave me have been destroyed by sorrow and by fear." Yet,
while she spoke thus, she again let her slender fingers stray
through the wilderness of the beautiful tresses which veiled
her kingly neck and swelling bosom, as if, in her agony of
mind, she had not altogether lost the consciousness of her un-
rivalled charms. Roland Græme, on whose youth, inexperi-
ence, and ardent sense of what was dignified and lovely the
demeanour of so fair and high-born a lady wrought like the
charm of a magician, stood rooted to the spot with surprise
and interest, longing to hazard his life in a quarrel so fair as
that which Mary Stuart's must needs be. She had been bred
in France-she was possessed of the most distinguished
beauty-she had reigned a queen, and a Scottish queen, to
whom knowledge of character was as essential as the use of
vital air. In all these capacities Mary was, of all women on
the earth, most alert at perceiving and using the advantages
which her charms gave her over almost all who came within
the sphere of their influence. She cast on Roland a glance
which might have melted a heart of stone. "My poor boy,"
she said, with a feeling partly real, partly politic, "thou art
a stranger to us, sent to this doleful captivity from the society
of some tender mother, or sister, or maiden, with whom you
had freedom to tread a gay measure round the Maypole. I
grieve for you; but you are the only male in my limited house-
hold-wilt thou obey my orders?"
256
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
$
"To the death, madam," said Græme, in a determined tone.
"Then keep the door of mine apartment," said the Queen-
"keep it till they offer actual violence, or till we shall be fitly
arrayed to receive these intrusive visitors."
"I will defend it till they pass over my body," said Roland
Græme, any hesitation which he had felt concerning the line
of conduct he ought to pursue being completely swept away
by the impulse of the moment.
"Not so, my good youth," answered Mary-"not so, I com-
mand thee. If I have one faithful subject beside me, much
need, God wot, I have to care for his safety. Resist them
but till they are put to the shame of using actual violence,
and then give way, I charge you. Remember my commands."
And, with a smile expressive at once of favour and of authority,
she turned from him, and, followed by her attendants, entered
the bedroom.
The youngest paused for half a second ere she followed her
companion, and made a signal to Roland Græme with her
hand. He had been already long aware that this was Cathe-
rine Seyton—a circumstance which could not much surprise a
youth of quick intellects, who recollected the sort of mysterious
discourse which had passed betwixt the two matrons at the de-
serted nunnery, and on which his meeting with Catherine in
this place seemed to cast so much light. Yet, such was the
engrossing effect of Mary's presence, that it surmounted for
the moment even the feelings of a youthful lover; and it was
not until Catherine Seyton had disappeared that Roland began
to consider in what relation they were to stand to each other.
"She held up her hand to me in a commanding manner,” he
thought; "perhaps she wanted to confirm my purpose for the
execution of the Queen's commands; for I think she could
scarce purpose to scare me with the sort of discipline which
she administered to the groom in the frieze jacket and to poor
Adam Woodcock. But we will see to that anon; meantime,
let us do justice to the trust reposed in us by this unhappy
Queen. I think my Lord of Murray will himself own that it
is the duty of a faithful page to defend his lady against intru-
sion on her privacy."
THE ABBOT.
257
"Accordingly, he stepped to the little vestibule, made fast,
with lock and bar, the door which opened from thence to the
large staircase, and then sat himself down to attend the result.
He had not long to wait: a rude and strong hand first essayed
to lift the latch, then pushed and shook the door with violence,
and, when it resisted his attempt to open it, exclaimed: "Un-
do the door there, you within!”
"Why, and at whose command," said the page, "am I to
undo the door of the apartments of the Queen of Scotland?”
Another vain attempt, which made hinge and bolts jingle,
showed that the impatient applicant without would willingly
have entered altogether regardless of his challenge; but at
length an answer was returned.
"Undo the door, on your peril: the Lord Lindesay comes
to speak with the Lady Mary of Scotland."
"The Lord Lindesay, as a Scottish noble," answered the
page, "must await his sovereign's leisure."
An earnest altercation ensued amongst those without, in
which Roland distinguished the remarkably harsh voice of
Lindesay in reply to Sir Robert Melville, who appeared to
have been using some soothing language: "No! no! no! I
tell thee no! I will place a petard against the door rather than
be baulked by a profligate woman, and bearded by an insolent
footboy."
"Yet, at least," said Melville, "let me try fair means in the
first instance. Violence to a lady would stain your scutcheon
for ever.
Or await till my Lord Ruthven comes.
""
"I will await no longer," said Lindesay; "it is high time
the business were done, and we on our return to the council.
But thou mayst try thy fair play, as thou callest it, while I
cause my train to prepare the petard. I came hither provided
with as good gunpowder as blew up the Kirk of Field."
"For God's sake, be patient," said Melville; and, approach-
ing the door, he said, as speaking to those within: "Let the
Queen know that I, her faithful servant, Robert Melville, do
entreat her, for her own sake, and to prevent worse conse-
quences, that she will undo the door, and admit Lord Linde-
say, who brings a mission from the council of state."
17
258
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"I will do your errand to the Queen," said the page, "and
report to you her answer.
99
He went to the door of the bedchamber, and, tapping against
it gently, it was opened by the elder lady, to whom he com-
municated his errand, and returned with directions from the
Queen to admit Sir Robert Melville and Lord Lindesay. Ro-
land Græme returned to the vestibule, and opened the door
accordingly, into which the Lord Lindesay strode, with the
air of a soldier who has fought his way into a conquered for-
tress; while Melville, deeply dejected, followed him more
slowly.
-
"I draw you to witness and to record," said the page to this
last, "that, save for the especial commands of the Queen, I
would have made good the entrance, with my best strength
and my best blood, against all Scotland."
"Be silent, young man," said Melville, in a tone of grave
rebuke: “add not brands to fire; this is no time to make a
flourish of thy boyish chivalry."
66
"She has not appeared even yet," said Lindesay, who had
now reached the midst of the parlour or audience-room; "how
call you this trifling?"
"Patience, my lord," replied Sir Robert, "time presses not;
and Lord Ruthven hath not as yet descended."
ma
At this moment the door of the inner apartment opened, and
Queen Mary presented herself, advancing with an air of pecul-
iar grace and majesty, and seeming totally unruffled, either
by the visit or by the rude manner in which it had been en-
forced. Her dress was a robe of black velvet; a small ruff,
open in front, gave a full view of her beautifully-formed chin
and neck, but veiled the bosom. On her head she wore a
small cap of lace, and a transparent white veil hung from her
shoulders over the long black robe, in large loose folds, so that
it could be drawn at pleasure over the face and person. She
wore a cross of gold around her neck, and had her rosary of
gold and ebony hanging from her girdle. She was closely fol-
lowed by her two ladies, who remained standing behind her
during the conference. Even Lord Lindesay, though the rud-
est noble of that rude age, was surprised into something like
THE ABBOT.
259
respect by the unconcerned and majestic mien of her whom he
had expected to find frantic with impotent passion, or dissolved
in useless and vain sorrow, or overwhelmed with the fears like-
ly in such a situation to assail fallen royalty.
“We fear we have detained you, my Lord of Lindesay,"
said the Queen, while she courtesied with dignity in answer
to his reluctant obeisance; "but a female does not willingly
receive her visitors without some minutes spent at the toilette.
Men, my lord, are less dependent on such ceremonies."
Lord Lindesay, casting his eye down on his own travel-
stained and disordered dress, muttered something of a hasty
journey, and the Queen paid her greeting to Sir Robert Mel-
ville with courtesy, and even, as it seemed, with kindness.
There was then a dead pause, during which Lindesay looked
towards the door, as if expecting with impatience the col-
league of their embassy. The Queen alone was entirely un-
embarrassed, and, as if to break the silence, she addressed
Lord Lindesay, with a glance at the large and cumbrous sword
which he wore, as already mentioned, hanging from his neck.
"You have there a trusty and a weighty travelling compan-
ion, my lord. I trust you expected to meet with no enemy
here, against whom such a formidable weapon could be neces-
sary? It is, methinks, somewhat a singular ornament for a
court, though I am, as I well need to be, too much of a Stuart
to fear a sword."
-
=
"It is not the first time, madam," replied Lindesay, bring-
ing round the weapon so as to rest its point on the ground, and
leaning one hand on the huge cross-handle-"it is not the first
time that this weapon has intruded itself into the presence of
the house of Stuart."
(6
Possibly, my lord," replied the Queen, "it may have
done service to my ancestors. Your ancestors were men of
loyalty."
"Ay, madam," replied he, "service it hath done; but such
as kings love neither to acknowledge nor to reward.
It was
the service which the knife renders to the tree when trimming
it to the quick, and depriving it of the superfluous growth of
rank and unfruitful suckers, which rob it of nourishment."
260
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"You talk riddles, my lord," said Mary; "I will hope the
explanation carries nothing insulting with it."
"You shall judge, madam," answered Lindesay. "With
this good sword was Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, girded
on the memorable day when he acquired the name of Bell-the-
Cat, for dragging from the presence of your great-grandfather,
the third James of the race, a crew of minions, flatterers, and
favourites, whom he hanged over the bridge of Lauder, as a
warning to such reptiles how they approach a Scottish throne.
With this same weapon, the same inflexible champion of Scot-
tish honour and nobility slew at one blow Spens of Kilspindie,
a courtier of your grandfather, James the Fourth, who had
dared to speak lightly of him in the royal presence. They
fought near the brook of Fala; and Bell-the-Cat, with this
blade, sheared through the thigh of his opponent, and lopped
the limb as easily as a shepherd's boy slices a twig from a
sapling."
"My lord,” replied the Queen, reddening, "my nerves are
too good to be alarmed even by this terrible history. May I
ask how a blade so illustrious passed from the house of Doug-
las to that of Lindesay? Methinks it should have been pre-
served as a consecrated relic by a family who have held all
that they could do against their king to be done in favour of
their country."
وو
**
"Nay, madam,” said Melville, anxiously interfering, “ask
not that question of Lord Lindesay. And you, my lord, for
shame for decency, forbear to reply to it."
"It is time that this lady should hear the truth," replied
Lindesay.
"And be assured," said the Queen, "that she will be moved to
anger by none that you can tell her, my lord. There are cases
in which just scorn has always the mastery over just anger.
""
"Then know," said Lindesay, "that upon the field of Car-
berry Hill, when that false and infamous traitor and murderer,
James, sometime Earl of Bothwell, and nicknamed Duke of
Orkney, offered to do personal battle with any of the associ-
ated nobles who came to drag him to justice, I accepted his
challenge, and was by the noble Earl of Morton gifted with
THE ABBOT.
261
Ah! so
his good sword that I might therewith fight it out.
help me Heaven, had his presumption been one grain more,
or his cowardice one grain less, I should have done such work
with this good steel on his traitorous corpse that the hounds
and carrion-crows should have found their morsels daintily
carved to their use!"
The Queen's courage wellnigh gave way at the mention of
Bothwell's name—a name connected with such a train of guilt,
shame, and disaster. But the prolonged boast of Lindesay
gave her time to rally herself, and to answer with an appear-
ance of cold contempt: "It is easy to slay an enemy who enters
not the lists. But had Mary Stuart inherited her father's
sword as well as his sceptre, the boldest of her rebels should
not upon that day have complained that they had no one to
cope withal.
Your lordship will forgive me if I abridge this
conference. A brief description of a bloody fight is long
enough to satisfy a lady's curiosity; and unless my Lord of
Lindesay has something more important to tell us than of the
deeds which old Bell-the-Cat achieved, and how he would
himself have emulated them, had time and tide permitted, we
will retire to our private apartment; and you, Fleming, shall
finish reading to us yonder little treatise Des Rodomontades
Espagnolles."
""
"Tarry, madam," said Lindesay, his complexion reddening
in his turn; “I know your quick wit too well of old to have
sought an interview that you might sharpen its edge at the
expense of my honour. Lord Ruthven and myself, with Sir
Robert Melville as a concurrent, come to your Grace on the
part of the secret council, to tender to you what much con-
cerns the safety of your own life and the welfare of the state.'
"The secret council!" said the Queen. "By what powers
can it subsist or act, while I, from whom it holds its charac-
ter, am here detained under unjust restraint? But it matters
not: what concerns the welfare of Scotland shall be acceptable
to Mary Stuart, come from whatever quarter it will; and for
what concerns her own life, she has lived long enough to be
weary of it, even at the age of twenty-five. Where is your
colleague, my lord; why tarries he?"
262
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"He comes, madam," said Melville, and Lord Ruthven en-
tered at the instant, holding in his hand a packet. As the
Queen returned his salutation, she became deadly pale, but
instantly recovered herself by dint of strong and sudden reso-
lution, just as the noble, whose appearance seemed to excite
such emotions in her bosom, entered the apartment in company
with George Douglas, the youngest son of the Knight of Loch-
leven, who, during the absence of his father and brethren,
acted as seneschal of the castle, under the direction of the
elder Lady Lochleven, his father's mother.
CHAPTER XXII.
I give this heavy weight from off my head,
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With my own hand I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duteous oaths.
Richard II.
LORD RUTHVEN had the look and bearing which became a
soldier and a statesman, and the martial cast of his form and
features procured him the popular epithet of Greysteil, by
which he was distinguished by his intimates, after the hero of
a metrical romance then generally known. His dress, which
was a buff coat embroidered, had a half-military character,
but exhibited nothing of the sordid negligence which distin-
guished that of Lindesay. But the son of an ill-fated sire,
and the father of a yet more unfortunate family, bore in his
look that cast of inauspicious melancholy by which the physi-
ognomists of that time pretended to distinguish those who
were predestined to a violent and unhappy death.
The terror which the presence of this nobleman impressed
on the Queen's mind arose from the active share he had borne
in the slaughter of David Rizzio; his father having presided
at the perpetration of that abominable crime, although so
weak from long and wasting illness that he could not endure
THE ABBOT.
263
the weight of his armour, having arisen from a sick-bed to
commit a murder in the presence of his sovereign. On that
occasion his son also had attended and taken an active part.
It was little to be wondered at that the Queen, considering
her condition when such a deed of horror was acted in her
presence, should retain an instinctive terror for the principal
actors in the murder. She returned, however, with grace the
salutation of Lord Ruthven, and extended her hand to George
Douglas, who kneeled and kissed it with respect the first
mark of a subject's homage which Roland Græme had seen
any of them render to the captive sovereign. She returned
his greeting in silence, and there was a brief pause, during
which the steward of the castle, a man of a sad brow and a
severe eye, placed, under George Douglas's directions, a table
and writing materials; and the page, obedient to his mistress's
dumb signal, advanced a large chair to the side on which the
Queen stood, the table thus forming a sort of bar which divided
the Queen and her personal followers from her unwelcome visi-
tors. The steward then withdrew, after a low reverence.
When he had closed the door behind him, the Queen broke
silence. "With your favour, my lords, I will sit; my walks
are not indeed extensive enough at present to fatigue me greatly,
yet I find repose something more necessary than usual."
She sat down accordingly, and, shading her cheek with her
beautiful hand, looked keenly and impressively at each of the
nobles in turn. Mary Fleming applied her kerchief to her
eyes, and Catherine Seyton and Roland Græme exchanged a
glance, which showed that both were too deeply engrossed
with sentiments of interest and commiseration for their royal
mistress to think of anything which regarded themselves.
"I wait the purpose of your mission, my lords," said the
Queen, after she had been seated for about a minute without a
word being spoken-"I wait your message from those you call
the secret council. I trust it is a petition of pardon, and a
desire that I will resume my rightful throne, without using
with due severity my right of punishing those who have dis-
possssed me of it?"
"Madam," replied Ruthven, "it is painful for us to speak
264
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
harsh truths to a princess who has long ruled us.
But we
come to offer, not to implore, pardon. In a word, madam,
we have to propose to you, on the part of the secret council,
that you sign these deeds, which will contribute greatly to the
pacification of the state, the advancement of God's Word, and
the welfare of your own future life."
"Am I expected to take these fair words on trust, my lord?
or may I hear the contents of these reconciling papers ere I am
asked to sign them?"
"Unquestionably, madam; it is our purpose and wish you
should read what you are required to sign," replied Ruthven.
"Required?" replied the Queen, with some emphasis; "but
the phrase suits well the matter. Read, my lord."
The Lord Ruthven proceeded to read a formal instrument,
running in the Queen's name, and setting forth that she had
been called, at an early age, to the administration of the
crown and realm of Scotland, and had toiled diligently there-
in, until she was in body and spirit so wearied out and dis-
gusted that she was unable any longer to endure the travail
and pain of state affairs; and that, since God had blessed her
with a fair and hopeful son, she was desirous to ensure to him,
even while she yet lived, his succession to the crown, which
was his by right of hereditary descent. "Wherefore," the
instrument proceeded, "we, of the motherly affection we bear
to our said son, have renounced and demitted, and, by these
our letters of free good-will, renounce and demit, the crown,
government, and guiding of the realm of Scotland, in favour of
our said son, that he may succeed to us as native prince there-
of, as much as if we had been removed by disease, and not by
our own proper act. And that this demission of our royal
authority may have the more full and solemn effect, and none
pretend ignorance, we give, grant, and commit full and free
and plain power to our trusty cousins, Lord Lindesay of the
Byres and William Lord Ruthven, to appear in our name be-
fore as many of the nobility, clergy, and burgesses as may be
assembled at Stirling, and there in our name and behalf, pub-
licly, and in their presence, to renounce the crown, guidance,
and government of this our kingdom of Scotland."
#6
?
THE ABBOT.
265
The Queen here broke in with an air of extreme surprise.
"How is this, my lords?" she said. "Are my ears turned
rebels, that they deceive me with sounds so extraordinary?
And yet it is no wonder that, having conversed so long with
rebellion, they should now force its language upon my under-
standing. Say I am mistaken, my lords-say, for the honour
of yourselves and the Scottish nobility, that my right trusty
cousins of Lindesay and Ruthven, two baron of warlike fame
and ancient line, have not sought the prison-house of their
kind mistress for such a purpose as these words seem to imply.
Say, for the sake of honour and loyalty, that my ears have
deceived me."
"No, madam," said Ruthven, gravely, "your ears do not
deceive you; they deceived you when they were closed against
the preachers of the Evangel, and the honest advice of your
faithful subjects; and when they were ever open to flattery
of pickthanks and traitors, foreign cubiculars and domestic
minions. The land may no longer brook the rule of one who
cannot rule herself; wherefore I pray you to comply with the
last remaining wish of your subjects and counsellors, and spare
yourself and us the further agitation of matters so painful.”
"And is this all my loving subjects require of me, my lord?"
said Mary, in a tone of bitter irony. "Do they really stint
themselves to the easy boon that I should yield up the crown,
which is mine by birthright, to an infant which is scarcely
more than a year old; fling down my sceptre, and take up a
distaff? Oh no! it is too little for them to ask. That other
roll of parchment contains something harder to be complied
with, and which may more highly tax my readiness to comply
with the petitions of my lieges.”
"This parchment," answered Ruthven, in the same tone of
inflexible gravity, and unfolding the instrument as he spoke,
❝is one by which your Grace constitutes your nearest in blood,
and the most honourable and trustworthy of your subjects,
James Earl of Murray, regent of the kingdom during the
minority of the young King. He already holds the appoint-
ment from the secret council."
The Queen gave a sort of shriek, and clapping her hands
266
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
together, exclaimed: "Comes the arrow out of his quiver?-
out of my brother's bow? Alas! I looked for his return from
France as my sole, at least my readiest, chance of deliverance.
And yet, when I heard that he had assumed the government,
I guessed he would shame to wield it in my name."
"I must pray your answer, madam," said Lord Ruthven,
"to the demand of the council."
Sİ
"The demand of the council!" said the Queen; "say rather
the demand of a set of robbers, impatient to divide the spoil
they have seized. To such a demand, and sent by the mouth
of a traitor, whose scalp, but for my womanish mercy, should
long since have stood on the city gates, Mary of Scotland has
""
no answer.
"I trust, madam," said Lord Ruthven, "my being unaccept-
able to your presence will not add to your obduracy of resolu-
tion. It may become you to remember that the death of the
minion, Rizzio, cost the house of Ruthven its head and leader.
My father, more worthy than a whole province of such vile
sycophants, died in exile, and broken-hearted.”
172
The Queen clasped her hands on her face, and, resting her
arms on the table, stooped down her head and wept so bitterly
that the tears were seen to find their way in streams between
the white and slender fingers with which she endeavoured to
conceal them.
"My lords," said Sir Robert Melville, "this is too much
rigour. Under your lordships' favour, we came hither, not
to revive old griefs, but to find the mode of avoiding new
ones."
"Sir Robert Melville," said Ruthven, "we best know for
what purpose we were delegated hither, and wherefore you
were somewhat unnecessarily sent to attend us.
"Nay, by my hand," said Lord Lindesay, "I know not why
we were cumbered with the good knight, unless he comes in
place of the lump of sugar which pothicars put into their
wholesome but bitter medicaments, to please a froward child
—a needless labour, methinks, where men have the means to
make them swallow the physic otherwise."
66
Nay, my lords," said Melville, "ye best know your own
رو
THE ABBOT.
261
secret instructions. I conceive I shall best obey mine in
striving to mediate between her Grace and you.
"Be silent, Sir Robert Melville," said the Queen, arising,
and her face still glowing with agitation as she spoke. "My
kerchief, Fleming: I shame that traitors should have power
to move me thus. Tell me, proud lords," she added, wiping
away the tears as she spoke, "by what earthly warrant can
liege subjects pretend to challenge the rights of an anointed
sovereign, to throw off the allegiance they have vowed, and to
take away the crown from the head on which Divine warrant
had placed it?"
"Madam," said Ruthven, "I will deal plainly with you.
Your reign, from the dismal field of Pinkie Cleuch, when you
were a babe in the cradle, till now that ye stand a grown dame
before us, hath been such a tragedy of losses, disasters, civil
dissensions, and foreign wars that the like is not to be found
in our chronicles. The French and English have, with one
consent, made Scotland the battlefield on which to fight out
their own ancient quarrel. For ourselves, every man's hand
hath been against his brother, nor hath a year passed over
without rebellion and slaughter, exiles of nobles, and oppress-
ing of the commons. We may endure it no longer; and,
therefore, as a prince to whom God hath refused the gift of
hearkening to wise counsel, and on whose dealings and pro-
jects no blessing hath ever descended, we pray you to give
way to other rule and governance of the land, that a remnant
may yet be saved to this distracted realm.”
رو
"My lord," said Mary, "it seems to me that you fling on
my unhappy and devoted head those evils which, with far
more justice, I may impute to your own turbulent, wild, and
untameable dispositions: the frantic violence with which you,
the magnates of Scotland, enter into feuds against each other,
sticking at no cruelty to gratify your wrath, taking deep re-
venge for the slightest offences, and setting at defiance those
wise laws which your ancestors made for stanching of such
cruelty, rebelling against the lawful authority, and bearing
yourselves as if there were no king in the land, or rather as if
each were king in his own premises. And now you throw the
268
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
blame on me-on me, whose life has been embittered-whose
sleep has been broken-whose happiness has been wrecked,
by your dissensions. Have I not myself been obliged to
traverse wilds and mountains, at the head of a few faithful
followers, to maintain peace and to put down oppression?
Have I not worn harness on my person, and carried pistols at
my saddle: fain to lay aside the softness of a woman, and
the dignity of a queen, that I might show an example to my
followers?"
"We grant, madam," said Lindesay, "that the affrays occa-
sioned by your misgovernment may sometimes have startled
you in the midst of a masque or galliard; or it may be that
such may have interrupted the idolatry of the mass, or the
Jesuitical counsels of some French ambassador. But the
longest and severest journey which your Grace has taken in
my memory was from Hawick to Hermitage Castle; and
whether it was for the weal of the state, or for your own
honour, rests with your Grace's conscience."
The Queen turned to him with inexpressible sweetness of
tone and manner, and that engaging look which Heaven had
assigned her, as if to show that the choicest arts to win men's
affections may be given in vain. "Lindesay," she said, "you
spoke not to me in this stern tone, and with such scurril taunt,
yon fair summer evening, when you and I shot at the butts
against the Earl of Mar and Mary Livingstone, and won of
them the evening's collation, in the privy garden of St. An-
drews. The Master of Lindesay was then my friend, and
vowed to be my soldier. How I have offended the Lord of
Lindesay I know not, unless honours have changed manners.”
Hard-hearted as he was, Lindesay seemed struck with this
unexpected appeal, but almost instantly replied, "Madam, it
is well known that your Grace could in those days make fools
of whomever approached you. I pretend not to have been
wiser than others. But gayer men and better courtiers soon
jostled aside my rude homage, and I think your Grace cannot
but remember times when my awkward attempts to take the
manners that pleased you were the sport of the court popin-
jays, the Maries and the Frenchwomen."
THE ABBOT.
269
"My lord, I grieve if I have offended you through idle
gaiety," said the Queen, "and can but say it was most unwit-
tingly done. You are fully revenged; for through gaiety,"
she said with a sigh, "will I never offend any one more."
"Our time is wasting, madam," said Lord Ruthven; "I
must pray your decision on this weighty matter which I have
submitted to you.
""
"What, my lord!" said the Queen, "upon the instant, and
without a moment's time to deliberate? Can the council, as
they term themselves, expect this of me?”
"Madam,” replied Ruthven, "the council hold the opinion
that, since the fatal term which passed betwixt the night of
King Henry's murder and the day of Carberry Hill, your
Grace should have held you prepared for the measure now
proposed, as the easiest escape from your numerous dangers
and difficulties."
"Great God!" exclaimed the Queen; "and is it as a boon
that you propose to me, what every Christian king ought to
regard as a loss of honour equal to the loss of life! You take
from me my crown, my power, my subjects, my wealth, my
state. What, in the name of every saint, can you offer, or do
you offer, in requital of my compliance?"
"We give you pardon," answered Ruthven, sternly; "we
give you space and means to spend your remaining life in
penitence and seclusion; we give you time to make your peace
with Heaven, and to receive the pure Gospel, which you have
ever rejected and persecuted."
The Queen turned pale at the menace which this speech, as
well as the rough and inflexible tones of the speaker, seemed
distinctly to infer. "And if I do not comply with your re-
quest so fiercely urged, my lord, what then follows?"
She said this in a voice in which female and natural fear
was contending with the feelings of insulted dignity. There
was a pause, as if no one cared to return to the question a dis-
tinct answer. At length Ruthven spoke. "There is little need
to tell to your Grace, who are well read both in the laws and in
the chronicles of the realm, that murder and adultery are crimes
for which ere now queens themselves have suffered death."
270
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"And where, my lord, or how, found you an accusation so
horrible against her who stands before you?" said Queen
Mary. "The foul and odious calumnies which have poisoned
the general mind of Scotland, and have placed me a helpless
prisoner in your hands, are surely no proof of guilt?”
"We need look for no further proof," replied the stern Lord
Ruthven, “than the shameless marriage betwixt the widow of
the murdered and the leader of the band of murderers! They
that joined hands in the fated month of May had already
united hearts and counsel in the deed which preceded that
marriage but a few brief weeks."
"My lord-my lord!" said the Queen, eagerly, "remember
well there were more consents than mine to that fatal union-
that most unhappy act of a most unhappy life. The evil
steps adopted by sovereigns are often the suggestion of bad
counsellors; but these counsellors are worse than fiends who
tempt and betray, if they themselves are the first to call their
unfortunate princes to answer for the consequences of their
own advice. Heard ye never of a bond by the nobles, my
lords, recommending that ill-fated union to the ill-fated Mary?
Methinks, were it carefully examined, we should see that the
names of Morton, and of Lindesay, and of Ruthven may be
found in that bond, which pressed me to marry that unhappy
man. Ah! stout and loyal Lord Herries, who never knew
guile or dishonour, you bent your noble knee to me in vain,
to warn me of my danger, and wert yet the first to draw thy
good sword in my cause when I suffered for neglecting thy
counsel! Faithful knight and true noble, what a difference
betwixt thee and those counsellors of evil who now threaten
my life for having fallen into the snares they spread for
me!"
66
"Madam," said Ruthven, we know that you are an orator;
and perhaps for that reason the council has sent hither men
whose converse hath been more with the wars than with the
language of the schools or the cabals of state. We but desire
to know if, on assurance of life and honour, ye will demit the
rule of this kingdom of Scotland?"
“And what warrant have I," said the Queen, "that ye will
THE ABBOT.
271
keep treaty with me, if I should barter my kingly estate for
seclusion and leave to weep in secret?"
"Our honour and our word, madam," answered Ruthven.
"They are too slight and unsolid pledges, my lord," said
the Queen; "add at least a handful of thistle-down to give
them weight in the balance.'
22
"Away, Ruthven," said Lindesay; "she was ever deaf to
counsel, save of slaves and sycophants; let her remain by her
refusal, and abide by it!”
"Stay, my lord," said Sir Robert Melville, " or rather per
mit me to have but a few minutes' private audience with her
Grace. If my presence with you could avail aught, it must
be as a mediator; do not, I conjure you, leave the castle, or
break off the conference, until I bring you word how her
Grace shall finally stand disposed.
""
"We will remain in the hall," said Lindesay, "for half an
hour's space; but in despising our words and our pledge of
honour, she has touched the honour of my name: let her look
herself to the course she has to pursue. If the half-hour
should pass away without her determining to comply with the
demands of the nation, her career will be brief enough."
With little ceremony the two nobles left the apartment,
traversed the vestibule, and descended the winding stairs, the
clash of Lindesay's huge sword being heard as it rang against
each step in his descent. George Douglas followed them,
after exchanging with Melville a gesture of surprise and
sympathy.
As soon as they were gone, the Queen, giving way to grief,
fear, and agitation, threw herself into the seat, wrung her
hands, and seemed to abandon herself to despair. Her female
attendants, weeping themselves, endeavoured yet to pray her
to be composed, and Sir Robert Melville, kneeling at her feet,
made the same entreaty. After giving way to a passionate
burst of sorrow, she at length said to Melville, "Kneel not to
me, Melville-mock me not with the homage of the person,
when the heart is far away. Why stay you behind with the
deposed the condemned?—her who has but few hours per-
chance to live? You have been favoured as well as the rest;
272
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
*
why do you continue the empty show of gratitude and thank
fulness any longer than them?”
"Madam," said Sir Robert Melville, "so help me Heaven
at my need, my heart is as true to you as when you were in
your highest place."
"True to me!-true to me!" repeated the Queen, with some
scorn; "tush, Melville, what signifies the truth which walks
hand in hand with my enemies' falsehood? Thy hand and
thy sword have never been so well acquainted that I can trust
thee in aught where manhood is required. Oh, Seyton, for
thy bold father, who is both wise, true, and valiant!"
Roland Græme could withstand no longer his earnest desire
to offer his services to a princess so distressed and so beauti-
ful. "If one sword," he said, "madam, can do anything to
back the wisdom of this grave counsellor, or to defend your
rightful cause, here is my weapon, and here is my hand ready
to draw and use it." And raising his sword with one hand,
he laid the other upon the hilt.
}
As he thus held up the weapon, Catherine Seyton exclaimed:
"Methinks I see a token from my father, madam"; and im-
mediately crossing the apartment, she took Roland Græme by
the skirt of the cloak, and asked him earnestly whence he had
that sword.
The page answered with surprise: "Methinks this is no
presence in which to jest. Surely, damsel, you yourself best
know whence and how I obtained the weapon.
رو
66
'Is this a time for folly?" said Catherine Seyton. "Un-
sheathe the sword instantly!"
"If the Queen commands me," said the youth, looking
towards his royal mistress.
66
"For shame, maiden!" said the Queen; "wouldst thou in-
stigate the poor boy to enter into useless strife with the two
most approved soldiers in Scotland?"
"In your Grace's cause,” replied the page, "I will venture
my life upon them!" And as he spoke he drew his weapon
partly from the sheath, and a piece of parchment, rolled
around the blade, fell out and dropped on the floor.
Catherine Seyton caught it up with eager haste. "It is my
THE ABBOT.
273
father's handwriting," she said, "and doubtless conveys his
best duteous advice to your Majesty; I knew that it was
prepared to be sent in this weapon, but I expected another
messenger.
"By my faith, fair one," thought Roland, "and if you knew
not that I had such a secret missive about me, I was yet more
ignorant."
The Queen cast her eye upon the scroll, and remained a few
minutes wrapped in deep thought. "Sir Robert Melville,"
she at length said, "this scroll advices me to submit myself
to necessity, and to subscribe the deeds these hard men have
brought with them, as one who gives way to the natural fear
inspired by the threats of rebels and murderers. You, Sir
Robert, are a wise man, and Seyton is both sagacious and
brave. Neither, I think, would mislead me in this matter."
"Madam,” said Melville, "if I have not the strength of body
of the Lords Herries or Seyton, I will yield to neither in zeal
for your Majesty's service. I cannot fight for you like these
lords, but neither of them is more willing to die for your
service."
"I believe it, my old and faithful counsellor," said the
Queen, "and believe me, Melville, I did thee but a moment's
injustice. Read what my Lord Seyton hath written to us,
and give us thy best counsel.'
""
He glanced over the parchment, and instantly replied, "O
my dear and royal mistress, only treason itself could give you
other advice than Lord Seyton has here expressed. He,
Herries, Huntly, the English ambassador Throgmorton, and
others, your friends, are all alike of opinion that whatever
deeds or instruments you execute within these walls must lose
all force and effect, as extorted from your Grace by duresse,
by sufferance of present evil, and fear of men, and harm to
ensue on your refusal. Yield, therefore, to the tide, and be
assured that, in subscribing what parchments they present to
you, you bind yourself to nothing, since your act of signature
wants that which alone can make it valid, the free will of the
grantor."
"Ay, so says my Lord Seyton," replied Mary; "yet me-
18
274
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
thinks, for the daughter of so long a line of sovereigns to re
sign her birthright, because rebels press upon her with threats,
argues little of royalty, and will read ill for the fame of Mary
in future chronicles. Tush! Sir Robert Melville, the traitors
may use black threats and bold words, but they will not dare
to put their hands forth on our person?"
"Alas! madam, they have already dared so far, and incurred
such peril by the lengths which they have gone, that they are
but one step from the worst and uttermost.
""
66
Surely," said the Queen, her fears again predominating,
"Scottish nobles would not lend themselves to assassinate a
helpless woman?”
"Bethink you, madam," he replied, "what horrid spectacles
have been seen in our day; and what act is so dark that some
Scottish hand has not been found to dare it? Lord Lindesay,
besides his natural sullenness and hardness of temper, is the
near kinsman of Henry Darnley, and Ruthven has his own
deep and dangerous plans. The council, besides, speak of
proofs by writ and word, of a casket with letters-of I know
not what."
رو
"Ah! good Melville," answered the Queen, "were I as sure
of the even-handed integrity of my judges as of my own inno-
cence-and yet-
"Oh! pause, madam," said Melville; "even innocence must
sometimes for a season stoop to injurious blame. Besides, you
are here_____ 99
He looked round and paused.
"Speak out, Melville," said the Queen, "never one ap-
proached my person who wished to work me evil; and even
this poor page, whom I have to-day seen for the first time in
my ife, I can trust safely with your communication.”
"Nay, madam," answered Melville, "in such emergence,
and he being the bearer of Lord Seyton's message, I will ven-
ture to say before him and these fair ladies, whose truth and
fidelity I dispute not-I say, I will venture to say, that there
are other modes besides that of open trial by which deposed
sovereigns often die; and that, as Machiavel saith, there is
but one step betwixt a king's prison and his grave."
THE ABBOT.
275
"Oh! were it but swift and easy for the body," said the
unfortunate princess, "were it but a safe and happy change
for the soul, the woman lives not that would take the step so
soon as I! But, alas! Melville, when we think of death, a
thousand sins, which we have trod as worms beneath our feet,
rise up against us as flaming serpents. Most injuriously do
they accuse me of aiding Darnley's death; yet, blessed Lady!
I afforded too open occasion for the suspicion: I espoused
Bothwell."
"Think not of that now, madam," said Melville, "think
rather of the immediate mode of saving yourself and son.
Comply with the present unreasonable demands, and trust
that better times will shortly arrive."
((
Madam," said Roland Græme, "if it pleases you that I
should do so, I will presently swim through the lake, if they
refuse me other conveyance to the shore; I will go to the
courts successively of England, France, and Spain, and will
show you have subscribed these vile instruments from no
stronger impulse than the fear of death, and I will do battle
against them that say otherwise."
The Queen turned her round, and with one of those sweet
smiles which, during the era of life's romance, overpay every
risk, held her hand towards Roland, but without speaking a
word. He kneeled reverently and kissed it, and Melville
again resumed his plea.
"Madam," he said, "time presses, and you must not let
those boats, which I see they are even now preparing, put
forth on the lake. Here are enough of witnesses-your
ladies-this bold youth-myself, when it can serve your cause
effectually, for I would not hastily stand committed in this
matter; but even without me here is evidence enough to show
that you have yielded to the demands of the council through
force and fear, but from no sincere and unconstrained assent.
Their boats are already manned for their return; oh! permit
your old servant to recall them!”
"Melville," said the Queen, "thou art an ancient courtier,
when didst thou ever know a sovereign prince recall to his
presence subjects who had parted from him on such terms as
276
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
those on which these envoys of the council left us, and who
yet were recalled without submission or apology? Let it cost
me both life and crown, I will not again command them to my
presence."
"Alas! madam, that empty form should make a barrier!
If I rightly understand, you are not unwilling to listen to real
and advantageous counsel; but your scruple is saved, I hear
them returning to ask your final resolution. Oh! take the
advice of the noble Seyton, and you may once more command
those who now usurp a triumph over you. But hush! I hear
them in the vestibule.'
""
As he concluded speaking, George Douglas opened the door
of the apartment, and marshalled in the two noble envoys.
"We come, madam," said the Lord Ruthven, "to request
your answer to the proposal of the council.”
"Your final answer," said Lord Lindesay; "for with a re-
fusal you must couple the certainty that you have precipitated
your fate, and renounced the last opportunity of making peace
with God, and ensuring your longer abode in the world.”
"My lords," said Mary, with inexpressible grace and dig-
nity, "the evils we cannot resist we must submit to: I will
subscribe these parchments with such liberty of choice as my
condition permits me. Were I on yonder shore, with a fleet
jennet and ten good and loyal knights around me, I would
subscribe my sentence of eternal condemnation as soon as the
resignation of my throne. But here, in the Castle of Loch-
leven, with deep water around me, and you, my lords, beside
me, I have no freedom of choice. Give me the pen, Melville,
and bear witness to what I do, and why I do it.”
"It is our hope your Grace will not suppose yourself com-
pelled, by any apprehensions from us," said the Lord Ruth-
ven, "to execute what must be your own voluntary deed."
→
The Queen had already stooped towards the table, and placed
the parchment before her, with the pen between her fingers,
ready for the important act of signature. But when Lord
Ruthven had done speaking, she looked up, stopped short,
and threw down the pen. "If," she said, "I am expected to
declare I give away my crown of free will, or otherwise than

Fary Flam
Las
"Beware, Madam!' said Lindesay, snatching hold of the
Queen's arm.'
Abbot, Chap. xxii., p. 277.
THE ABBOT.
277
because I am compelled to renounce it by the threat of worse
evils to myself and my subjects, I will not put my name to
such an untruth-not to gain full possession of England,
France, and Scotland! all once my own, in possession, or by
right."
"Beware, madam," said Lindesay, and, snatching hold of
the Queen's arm with his own gauntleted hand, he pressed it,
in the rudeness of his passion, more closely, perhaps, than he
was himself aware of "beware how you contend with those
who are the stronger, and have the mastery of your fate!"
He held his grasp on her arm, bending his eyes on her with
a stern and intimidating look, till both Ruthven and Melville
cried "Shame!" and Douglas, who had hitherto remained in
a state of apparent apathy, had made a stride from the door,
as if to interfere. The rude baron then quitted his hold, dis-
guising the confusion which he really felt at having indulged
his passion to such extent under a sullen and contemptuous
smile.
The Queen immediately began, with an expression of pain,
to bare the arm which he had grasped, by drawing up the
sleeve of her gown, and it appeared that his gripe had left
the purple marks of his iron fingers upon her flesh. "My
lord," she said, "as a knight and gentleman, you might have
spared my frail arm so severe a proof that you have the
greater strength on your side, and are resolved to use it. But
I thank you for it—it is the most decisive token of the terms
on which this day's business is to rest. I draw you to wit-
ness, both lords and ladies," she said, showing the marks of
the grasp on her arm, "that I subscribe these instruments in
obedience to the sign-manual of my Lord of Lindesay, which
you may see imprinted on mine arm.
" 1
-
Lindesay would have spoken, but was restrained by his col-
league Ruthven, who said to him: "Peace, my lord. Let the
Lady Mary of Scotland ascribe her signature to what she will,
it is our business to procure it, and carry it to the council.
Should there be debate hereafter on the manner in which it
was adhibited, there will be time enough for it.
""
¹ See The Resignation of Queen Mary. Note 18,
278
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Lindesay was silent accordingly, only muttering within his
beard, "I meant not to hurt her; but I think women's flesh
be as tender as new-fallen snow."
The Queen meanwhile subscribed the rolls of parchment
with a hasty indifference, as if they had been matters of
slight consequence, or of mere formality. When she had
performed this painful task, she arose, and, having courtesied
to the lords, was about to withdraw to her chamber. Ruthven
and Sir Robert Melville made, the first a formal reverence, the
second an obeisance, in which his desire to acknowledge his
sympathy was obviously checked by the fear of appearing in
the eyes of his colleagues too partial to his former mistress.
But Lindesay stood motionless, even when they were prepar-
ing to withdraw. At length, as if moved by a sudden im-
pulse, he walked round the table which had hitherto been
betwixt them and the Queen, kneeled on one knee, took her
hand, kissed it, let it fall, and arose. "Lady," he said,
"thou art a noble creature, even though thou hast abused
God's choicest gifts. I pay that devotion to thy manliness of
spirit which I would not have paid to the power thou hast
long undeservedly wielded; I kneel to Mary Stuart, not to
the Queen.'
29
"The Queen and Mary Stuart pity thee alike, Lindesay,'
said Mary" alike they pity, and they forgive thee. An
honoured soldier hadst thou been by a king's side; leagued
with rebels, what art thou but a good blade in the hands of a
ruffian? Farewell, my Lord Ruthven, the smoother but the
deeper traitor. Farewell, Melville. Mayest thou find masters
that can understand state policy better, and have the means
to reward it more richly, than Mary Stuart! Farewell,
George of Douglas; make your respected grand-dame compre-
hend that we would be alone for the remainder of the day.
God wot, we have need to collect our thoughts."
All bowed and withdrew; but scarce had they entered the
vestibule ere Ruthven and Lindesay were at variance.
"Chide
not with me, Ruthven," Lindesay was heard to say in answer
to something more indistinctly urged by his colleague-" chide
not with me, for I will not brook it! You put the hangman's
99
12.
THE ABBOT.
279
office on me in this matter, and even the very hangman hath
leave to ask some pardon of those on whom he does his office.
I would I had as deep cause to be this lady's friend as I have
to be her enemy; thou shouldst see if I spared limb and life
in her quarrel.”
"Thou art a sweet minion," said Ruthven, "to fight a lady's
quarrel, and all for a brent brow and a tear in the eye! Such
toys have been out of thy thoughts this many a year."
(C
"Do me right, Ruthven," said Lindesay. You are like
a polished corslet of steel: it shines more gaudily, but it is
not a whit softer-nay, it is five times harder-than a Glas-
gow breastplate of hammered iron. Enough. We know each
other."
They descended the stairs, were heard to summon their
boats, and the Queen signed to Roland Græme to retire to the
vestibule, and leave her with her female attendants.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Give me a morsel on the greensward rather,
Coarse as you will the cooking. Let the fresh spring
Bubble beside my napkin, and the free birds,
Twittering and chirping, hop from bough to bough,
To claim the crumbs I leave for perquisites;
Your prison-feasts I like not.
The Woodsman, a Drama.
A RECESS in the vestibule was enlightened by a small win-
dow, at which Roland Grome stationed himself to mark the
departure of the lords. He could see their followers muster-
ing on horseback under their respective banners, the western
sun glancing on their corslets and steel caps as they moved to
and fro, mounted or dismounted, at intervals. On the narrow
space betwixt the castle and the water, the Lords Ruthven
and Lindesay were already moving slowly to their boats, ac-
companied by the Lady of Lochleven, her grandson, and their
principal attendants. They took a ceremonious leave of each
other, as Roland could discern by their gestures, and the
280
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
boats put off from their landing-place; the boatmen stretched
to their oars, and they speedily diminished upon the eye of
the idle gazer, who had no better employment than to watch
their motions. Such seemed also the occupation of the Lady
Lochleven and George Douglas, who, returning from the land-
ing-place, looked frequently back to the boats, and at length
stopped, as if to observe their progress, under the window at
which Roland Græme was stationed. As they gazed on the
lake, he could hear the lady distinctly say, "And she has bent
her mind to save her life at the expense of her kingdom?"
"Her life, madam!" replied her son; "I know not who
would dare to attempt it in the castle of my father. Had I
dreamt that it was with such purpose that Lindesay insisted
on bringing his followers hither, neither he nor they should
have passed the iron gate of Lochleven Castle."
"I speak not of private slaughter, my son, but of open trial,
condemnation, and execution; for with such she has been
threatened, and to such threats she has given way. Had she
not more of the false Guisian blood than of the royal race of
Scotland in her veins, she had bidden them defiance to their
teeth. But it is all of the same complexion, and meanness is
the natural companion of profligacy. I am discharged, for-
sooth, from intruding on her gracious presence this evening.
Go thou, my son, and render the usual service of the meal to
this unqueened queen."
66
'So please you, lady mother," said Douglas, "I care not
greatly to approach her presence.
"Thou art right, my son; and therefore I trust thy pru-
dence, even because I have noted thy caution. She is like an
isle on the ocean, surrounded with shelves and quicksands:
its verdure fair and inviting to the eye, but the wreck of
many a goodly vessel which had approached it too rashly.
But for thee, my son, I fear nought; and we may not, with
our honour, suffer her to eat without the attendance of one of
us. She may die by the judgment of Heaven, or the fiend
may have power over her in her despair; and then we would
be touched in honour to show that, in our house, and at our
table, she had had all fair play and fitting usage."
99
THE ABBOT.
281
Here Roland was interrupted by a smart tap on the shoulders,
reminding him sharply of Adam Woodcock's adventure of the
preceding evening. He turned round, almost expecting to see
the page of St. Michael's hostelry. He saw, indeed, Cather-
ine Seyton; but she was in female attire, differing, no doubt,
a great deal in shape and materials from that which she had
worn when they first met, and becoming her birth as the
daughter of a great baron, and her rank as the attendant or a
princess. "So, fair page," said she, "eavesdropping is one
of your page-like qualities, I presume?"
"Fair sister," answered Roland, in the same tone, "if some
friends of mine be as well acquainted with the rest of cur
mystery as they are with the arts of swearing, swaggering,
and switching, they need ask no page in Christendom for
further insight into his vocation."
"Unless that pretty speech infer that you have yourself had
the discipline of the switch since we last met, the probability
whereof I nothing doubt, I profess, fair page, I am at a loss to
conjecture your meaning. But there is no time to debate it
now they come with the evening meal. Be pleased, sir
page, to do your duty."
Four servants entered bearing dishes, preceded by the same
stern old steward whom Roland had already seen, and followed
by George Douglas, already mentioned as the grandson of the
Lady of Lochleven, and who, acting as seneschal, represented
upon this occasion his father, the lord of the castle. He en-
tered with his arms folded on his bosom, and his looks bent
on the ground. With the assistance of Roland Græme, a table
was suitably covered in the next or middle apartment, on which
the domestics placed their burdens with great reverence, the
steward and Douglas bending low when they had seen the table
properly adorned, as if their royal prisoner had sat at the
board in question. The door opened, and Douglas, raising
his eyes hastily, cast them again on the earth, when he per-
ceived it was only the Lady Mary Fleming who entered.
"Her Grace," she said, "will not eat to-night."
"Let us hope she may be otherwise persuaded," said Doug-
las; "meanwhile, madam, please to see our duty performed."
282
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
A servant presented bread and salt on a silver plate, and the
old steward carved for Douglas a small morsel in succession
from each of the dishes presented, which he tasted, as was
then the custom at the tables of princes, to which death was
often suspected to find its way in the disguise of food.
"The Queen will not then come forth to-night?" said
Douglas.
"She has so determined," replied the lady.
"Our further attendance then is unnecessary: we leave you
to your supper, fair ladies, and wish you good-even.'
He retired slowly as he came, and with the same air of deep
dejection, and was followed by the attendants belonging to the
castle. The two ladies sate down to their meal, and Roland
Græme, with ready alacrity, prepared to wait upon them.
Catherine Seyton whispered to her companion, who replied
with the question, spoken in a low tone, but looking at the
page: "Is he of gentle blood and well nurtured?"
The answer which she received seemed satisfactory, for she
said to Roland: "Sit down, young gentleman, and eat with
your sisters in captivity."
'Permit me rather to perform my duty in attending them,"
said Roland, anxious to show he was possessed of the high
tone of deference prescribed by the rules of chivalry towards
the fair sex, and especially to dames and maidens of quality.
“You will find, sir page," said Catherine, "you will have
little time allowed you for your meal; waste it not in cere-
mony, or you may rue your politeness ere to-morrow morning."
"Your speech is too free, maiden," said the elder lady; "the
modesty of the youth may teach you more fitting fashions
towards one whom to-day you have seen for the first time."
Catherine Seyton cast down her eyes, but not till she haà
given a single glance of inexpressible archness towards Roland,
whom her more grave companion now addressed in a tone of
protection.
"Regard her not, young gentleman; she knows little of the
world, save the forms of a country nunnery; take thy place at
the board-end, and refresh thyself after thy journey."
Roland Græme obeyed willingly, as it was the first food he
1
THE ABBOT.
283
had that day tasted; for Lindesay and his followers seemed
regardless of human wants. Yet, notwithstanding the sharp-
ness of his appetite, a natural gallantry of disposition, the
desire of showing himself a well-nurtured gentleman in all cour-
tesies towards the fair sex, and, for aught I know, the pleasure
of assisting Catherine Seyton, kept his attention awake, during
the meal, to all those nameless acts of duty and service which
gallants of that age were accustomed to render. He carved
with neatness and decorum, and selected duly whatever was
most delicate to place before the ladies. Ere they could form
a wish, he sprung from the table ready to comply with it—
poured wine-tempered it with water-removed and ex-
changed trenchers, and performed the whole honours of the
table, with an air at once of cheerful diligence, profound re-
spect, and graceful promptitude.
-
When he observed that they had finished eating, he hastened
to offer to the elder lady the silver ewer, basin, and napkin,
with the ceremony and gravity which he would have used
towards Mary herself. He next, with the same decorum,
having supplied the basin with fair water, presented it to
Catherine Seyton. Apparently she was determined to disturb
his self-possession if possible; for, while in the act of bathing
her hands, she contrived, as it were by accident, to flirt some
drops of water upon the face of the assiduous assistant. But
if such was her mischievous purpose she was completely dis-
appointed; for Roland Græme, internally piquing himself on
his self-command, neither laughed nor was discomposed; and
all that the maiden gained by her frolic was a severe rebuke
from her companion, taxing her with mal-address and inde-
corum. Catherine replied not, but sat pouting, something in
the humour of a spoilt child, who watches the opportunity of
wreaking upon some one or other its resentment for a deserved
reprimand.
The Lady Mary Fleming, in the mean while, was naturally
well pleased with the exact and reverent observance of the
page, and said to Catherine, after a favourable glance at Ro-
land Græme: "You might well say, Catherine, our companion
in captivity was well born and gently nurtured. I would not
284
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
make him vain by my praise, but his services enable us to dis-
pense with those which George Douglas condescends not to
afford us, save when the Queen is herself in presence.
66
Umph! I think hardly," answered Catherine. George
Douglas is one of the most handsome gallants in Scotland, and
'tis pleasure to see him even still, when the gloom of Loch-
leven Castle has shed the same melancholy over him that it
has done over everything else. When he was at Holyrood,
who would have said the young sprightly George Douglas
would have been contented to play the locksman here in Loch-
leven, with no gayer amusement than that of turning the key
on two or three helpless women? A strange office for a knight
of the bleeding heart; why does he not leave it to his father
or his brothers?"
66
-
"Perhaps, like us, he has no choice," answered the Lady
Fleming. "But, Catherine, thou hast used thy brief space
at court well, to remember what George Douglas was then."
66
“I used mine eyes, which I suppose was what I was designed
to do, and they were worth using there. When I was at the
nunnery, they were very useless appurtenances; and now I
am at Lochleven, they are good for nothing, save to look over
that eternal work of embroidery."
"You speak thus, when you have been but a few brief hours
amongst us: was this the maiden who would live and die in a
dungeon, might she but have permission to wait on her gra-
cious queen?"
"Nay, if you chide in earnest, my jest is ended," said Cathe-
rine Seyton. "I would not yield in attachment to my poor
godmother to the gravest dame that ever had wise saws upon
her tongue, and a double-starched ruff around her throat-you
know I would not, Dame Mary Fleming, and it is putting
shame on me to say otherwise."
"She will challenge the other court lady," thought Roland
Græme" she will to a certainty fling down her glove, and if
Dame Mary Fleming hath but the soul to lift it, we may have
a combat in the lists!" But the answer of Lady Mary Flem-
ing was such as turns away wrath.
"Thou art a good child," she said, "my Catherine, and a
THE ABBOT.
285
faithful; but Heaven pity him who shall have one day a crea-
ture so beautiful to delight him, and a thing so mischievous
to torment him: thou art fit to drive twenty husbands stark
mad."
"Nay," said Catherine, resuming the full career of her care-
less good-humour, "he must be half-witted beforehand that
gives me such an opportunity. But I am glad you are not
angry with me in sincerity," casting herself as she spoke into
the arms of her friend, and continuing, with a tone of apolo-
getic fondness, while she kissed her on either side of the face:
"You know, my dear Fleming, that I have to contend with
both my father's lofty pride and with my mother's high spirit.
God bless them! they have left me these good qualities, having
small portion to give besides, as times go; and so I am wilful
and saucy; but let me remain only a week in this castle, and
oh, my dear Fleming, my spirit will be as chastised and as
humble as thine own. ""
Dame Mary Fleming's sense of dignity, and love of form,
could not resist this affectionate appeal. She kissed Cathe-
rine Seyton in her turn affectionately; while, answering the
last part of her speech, she said: "Now, Our Lady forbid,
dear Catherine, that you should lose aught that is beseeming
of what becomes so well your light heart and lively humour.
Keep but your sharp wit on this side of madness, and it can-
not but be a blessing to us. But let me go, mad wench-I
hear her Grace touch her silver call." And, extricating her-
self from Catherine's grasp, she went towards the door of
Queen Mary's apartment, from which was heard the low tone
of a silver whistle, which, now only used by the boatswains
in the navy, was then, for want of bells, the ordinary mode
by which ladies, even of the very highest rank, summoned
their domestics. When she had made two or three steps
towards the door, however, she turned back, and advancing
to the young couple whom she left together, she said, in a
very serious though a low tone, "I trust it is impossible that
we can, any of us, or in any circumstances, forget that, few
as we are, we form the household of the Queen of Scotland;
and that, in her calamity, all boyish mirth and childish jest-
4
286
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ing can only serve to give a great triumph to her enemies,
who have already found their account in objecting to her the
lightness of every idle folly that the young and the gay prac-
tised in her court." So saying, she left the apartment.
Catherine Seyton seemed much struck with this remon-
strance. She suffered herself to drop into the seat which she
had quitted when she went to embrace Dame Mary Fleming,
and for some time rested her brow upon her hands; while
Roland Græme looked at her earnestly, with a mixture of emo-
tions which perhaps he himself could neither have analysed
nor explained. As she raised her face slowly from the pos-
ture to which a momentary feeling of self-rebuke had de-
pressed it, her eyes encountered those of Roland, and became
gradually animated with their usual spirit of malicious drol-
lery, which not unnaturally excited a similar expression in
those of the equally volatile page. They sat for the space of
two minutes, each looking at the other with great seriousness
on their features, and much mirth in their eyes, until at length
Catherine was the first to break silence.
-
"May I pray you, fair sir," she began very demurely, "to
tell me what you see in my face to arouse looks so extremely
sagacious and knowing as those with which it is your wor-
ship's pleasure to honour me? It would seem as there were
some wonderful confidence and intimacy betwixt us, fair sir,
if one is to judge from your extremely cunning looks; and so
help me, Our Lady, as I never saw you but twice in my life
before."
-
“And where were those happy occasions," said Roland, “if
I may be bold enough to ask the question?"
"At the nunnery of St. Catherine's," said the damsel, "in
the first instance; and, in the second, during five minutes of
a certain raid or foray which it was your pleasure to make
into the lodging of my lord and father, Lord Seyton, from
which, to my surprise, as probably to your own, you returned
with a token of friendship and favour instead of broken bones,
which were the more probable reward of your intrusion, con-
sidering the prompt ire of the house of Seyton. I am deeply
mortified," she added, ironically, "that your recollection
THE ABBOT.
287
should require refreshment on a subject so important; and
that my memory should be stronger than yours on such an
occasion is truly humiliating."
"Your own memory is not so exactly correct, fair mistress,"
answered the page, "seeing you have forgotten meeting the
third, in the hostelry of St. Michael's, when it pleased you to
lay your switch across the face of my comrade, in order, I
warrant, to show that, in the house of Seyton, neither the
prompt ire of its descendants, nor the use of the doublet and
hose, are subject to Salique law, or confined to the use of the
males."
'Fair sir," answered Catherine, looking at him with great
steadiness and some surprise, "unless your fair wits have for-
saken you, I am at a loss what to conjecture of your meaning."
"By my troth, fair mistress," answered Roland, "and were
I as wise a warlock as Michael Scott, I could scarce riddle the
dream you read me. Did I not see you last night in the hos-
telry of St. Michael's? Did you not bring me this sword, with
command not to draw it save at the command of my native and
rightful sovereign? And have I not done as you required me?
Or is the sword a piece of lath, my word a bulrush, my memory
a dream, and my eyes good for nought-espials which corbies
might pick out of my head?"
"And if your eyes serve you not more truly on other occa-
sions than in your vision of St. Michael," said Catherine, "I
know not, the pain apart, that the corbies would do you any
great injury in the deprivation. But hark, the bell; hush,
for God's sake, we are interrupted-
""
The damsel was right; for no sooner had the dull toll of the
castle bell begun to resound through the vaulted apartment
than the door of the vestibule flew open, and the steward,
with his severe countenance, his gold chain, and his white
rod, entered the apartment, followed by the same train of
domestics who had placed the dinner on the table, and who
now, with the same ceremonious formality, began to remove it.
The steward remained motionless as some old picture, while
the domestics did their office; and when it was accomplished,
everything removed from the table, and the board itself taken
288
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
from its tressels and disposed against the wall, he said aloud,
without addressing any one in particular, and somewhat in the
tone of a herald reading a proclamation, "My noble lady,
Dame Margaret Erskine, by marriage Douglas, lets the Lady
Mary of Scotland and her attendants to wit, that a servant of
the true Evangel, her reverend chaplain, will to-night, as
usual, expound, lecture, and catechise, according to the forms
of the congregation of Gospellers."
"Hark you, my friend, Mr. Dryfesdale," said Catherine,
"I understand this announcement is a nightly form of yours.
Now, I pray you to remark, that the Lady Fleming and I-
for I trust your insolent invitation concerns us only-have
chosen St. Peter's pathway to Heaven; so I see no one whom
your godly exhortation, catechise, or lecture can benefit, ex-
cepting this poor page, who, being in Satan's hand as well as
yourself, had better worship with you than remain to cumber
our better advised devotions.”
<
The page was wellnigh giving a round denial to the asser-
tions which this speech implied, when, remembering what had
passed betwixt him and the Regent, and seeing Catherine's
finger raised in a monitory fashion, he felt himself, as on
former occasions at the Castle of Avenel, obliged to submit to
the task of dissimulation, and followed Dryfesdale down to
the castle chapel, where he assisted in the devotions of the
evening.
The chaplain was named Elias Henderson. He was a man
in the prime of life, and possessed of good natural parts, care-
fully improved by the best education which those times af-
forded. To these qualities were added a faculty of close and
terse reasoning, and, at intervals, a flow of happy illustration
and natural eloquence. The religious faith of Roland Græme,
as we have already had opportunity to observe, rested on no
secure basis, but was entertained rather in obedience to his
grandmother's behests, and his secret desire to contradict the
chaplain of Avenel Castle, than from any fixed or steady reli-
ance which he placed on the Romish creed. His ideas had
been of late considerably enlarged by the scenes he had passed
through; and feeling that there was shame in not understand-
•
THE ABBOT.
289
ing something of those political disputes betwixt the professors
of the ancient and of the Reformed faith, he listened, with
more attention than it had hitherto been in his nature to yield
on such occasions, to an animated discussion of some of the
principal points of difference betwixt the churches.
So passed away the first day in the Castle of Lochleven;
and those which followed it were, for some time, of a very
monotonous and uniform tenor.
CHAPTER XXIV.
'Tis a weary life this
Vaults overhead, and grates and bars around me,
And my sad hours spent with as sad companions,
Whose thoughts are brooding o'er their own mischances,
Far, far too deeply to take part in mine.
The Woodsman.
THE course of life to which Mary and her little retinue were
doomed was in the last degree secluded and lonely, varied
only as the weather permitted or rendered impossible the
Queen's usual walk in the garden or on the battlements. The
greater part of the morning she wrought with her ladies at
those pieces of needlework many of which still remain, proofs
of her indefatigable application. At such hours the page was
permitted the freedom of the castle and islet; nay, he was
sometimes invited to attend George Douglas when he went
a-sporting upon the lake or on its margin-opportunities of
diversion which were only clouded by the remarkable melan-
choly which always semed to brood on that gentleman's brow,
and to mark his whole demeanour—a sadness so profound that
Roland never observed him to smile, or to speak any word un-
connected with the immediate object of their exercise.
The most pleasant part of Roland's day was the occasional
space which he was permitted to pass in personal attendance
on the Queen and her ladies, together with the regular dinner-
time, which he always spent with Dame Mary Fleming and
Catherine Seyton. At these periods, he had frequent occa-
19
290
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
sions to admire the lively spirit and inventive imagination of
the latter damsel, who was unwearied in her contrivances to
amuse her mistress, and to banish, for a time at least, the
melancholy which preyed on her bosom. She danced, she
sung, she recited tales of ancient and modern times, with that
heartfelt exertion of talent of which the pleasure lies not in
the vanity of displaying it to others, but in the enthusiastic
consciousness that we possess it ourselves. And yet these high
accomplishments were mixed with an air of rusticity and
hare-brained vivacity which seemed rather to belong to some
village maid, the coquette of the ring around the Maypole,
than to the high-bred descendant of an ancient baron. A
touch of audacity, altogether short of effrontery, and far less
approaching to vulgarity, gave, as it were, a wildness to all
that she did; and Mary, while defending her from some of the
occasional censures of her grave companion, compared her to a
trained singing-bird escaped from a cage, which practises in
all the luxuriance of freedom, and in full possession of the
greenwood bough, the airs which it had learned during its
earlier captivity.
The moments which the page was permitted to pass in the
presence of this fascinating creature danced so rapidly away
that, brief as they were, they compensated the weary dulness
of all the rest of the day. The space of indulgence, however,
was brief, nor were any private interviews betwixt him and
Catherine permitted, or even possible. Whether it were some
special precaution respecting the Queen's household, or wheth-
er it were her general ideas of propriety, Dame Fleming seemed
particularly attentive to prevent the young people from hold-
ing any separate correspondence together, and bestowed, for
Catherine's sole benefit in this matter, the full stock of pru-
dence and experience which she had acquired when mother of
the Queen's maidens of honour, and by which she had gained
their hearty hatred. Casual meetings, however, could not be
prevented, unless Catherine had been more desirous of shun-
ning, or Roland Græme less anxious in watching for, them.
A smile, a gibe, a sarcasm, disarmed of its severity by the
arch look with which it was accompanied, was all that time
THE ABBOT.
291
permitted to pass between them on such ocasions. But such
passing interviews neither afforded the means nor opportunity
to renew the discussion of the circumstances attending their
earlier acquaintance, nor to permit Roland to investigate more
accurately the mysterious apparition of the page in the purple
velvet cloak at the hostelry of St. Michael's.
The winter months slipped heavily, away and spring was al-
ready advanced, when Roland Græme observed a gradual change
in the manners of his fellow-prisoners. Having no business
of his own to attend to, and being, like those of his age, edu-
cation, and degree, sufficiently curious concerning what passed
around, he began by degrees to suspect, and finally to be con-
vinced, that there was something in agitation among his com-
panions in captivity to which they did not desire that he
should be privy. Nay, he became almost certain that, by
some means unintelligible to him, Queen Mary held corre-
spondence beyond the walls and waters which surrounded her
prison-house, and that she nourished some secret hope of
deliverance or escape.
In the conversations betwixt her and
her attendants at which he was necessarily present, the Queen
could not always avoid showing that she was acquainted with
the events which were passing abroad in the world, and which
he only heard through her report. He observed that she
wrote more and worked less that had been her former custom,
and that, as if desirous to lull suspicion asleep, she changed
her manner towards the Lady Lochleven into one more gra-
cious, and which seemed to express a resigned submission to
her lot. "They think I am blind," he said to himself, "and
that I am unfit to be trusted because I am so young, or it may
be because I was sent hither by the Regent. Well! be it so;
they may be glad to confide in me in the long run; and Cath-
erine Seyton, for as saucy as she is, may, find me as safe a
confidant as that sullen Douglas, whom she is always running
after. It may be they are angry with me for listening to
Master Elias Henderson; but it was their own fault for send-
ing me there; and if the man speaks truth and good sense,
and preaches only the Word of God, he is as likely to be right
as either Pope or councils."
292
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
It is probable that in this last conjecture Roland Græme had
hit upon the real cause why the ladies had not entrusted him
with their counsels. He had of late had several conferences
with Henderson on the subject of religion, and had given him
to understand that he stood in need of his instructions, al-
though he had not thought there was either prudence or ne-
cessity for confessing that hitherto he had held the tenets of
the Church of Rome.
Elias Henderson, a keen propagator of the Reformed faith,
had sought the seclusion of Lochleven Castle with the express
purpose and expectation of making converts from Rome
amongst the domestics of the dethroned Queen, and confirming
the faith of those who already held the Protestant doctrines.
Perhaps his hopes soared a little higher, and he might nour-
ish some expectation of a proselyte more distinguished, in the
person of the deposed Queen. But the pertinacity with which
she and her female attendants refused to see or listen to him
rendered such hope, if he nourished it, altogether abortive.
The opportunity, therefore, of enlarging the religious in-
formation of Roland Græme, and bringing him to a more due
sense of duties to Heaven, was hailed by the good man as a
door opened by Providence for the salvation of a sinner. He
dreamed not, indeed, that he was converting a Papist, but
such was the ignorance which Roland displayed upon some
material points of the Reformed doctrine, that Master Hen-
derson, while praising his docility to the Lady Lochleven and
her grandson, seldom failed to add, that his venerable broth-
er, Henry Warden, must be now decayed in strength and in
mind, since he found a catechumen of his flock so ill-grounded
in the principles of his belief. For this, indeed, Roland
Græme thought it was unnecessary to assign the true reason,
which was his having made it a point of honour to forget all
that Henry Warden taught him, as soon as he was no longer
compelled to repeat it over as a lesson acquired by rote. The
lessons of his new instructor, if not more impressively deliv-
ered, were received by a more willing ear and a more awak-
ened understanding, and the solitude of Lochleven Castle was
favourable to graver thoughts than the page had hitherto en
-
THE ABBOT.
293
tertained. He wavered yet, indeed, as one who was almost
persuaded; but his attention to the chaplain's instructions
procured him favour even with the stern old dame herself;
and he was once or twice, but under great precaution, per-
mitted to go to the neighbouring village of Kinross, situated
on the mainland, to execute some ordinary commission of his
unfortunate mistress.
For some time Roland Græme might be considered as stand-
ing neuter betwixt the two parties who inhabited the water-
girdled Tower of Lochleven; but, as he rose in the opinion of
the lady of the castle and her chaplain, he perceived, with great
grief, that he lost ground in that of Mary and her female allies.
-
He came gradually to be sensible that he was regarded as a
spy upon their discourse, and that, instead of the ease with
which they had formerly conversed in his presence, without
suppressing any of the natural feelings of anger, of sorrow, or
mirth which the chance topic of the moment happened to call
forth, their talk was now guardedly restricted to the most in-
different subjects, and a studied reserve observed even in the
mode of treating these. This obvious want of confidence was
accompanied with a correspondent change in their personal
demeanour towards the unfortunate page. The Queen, who
had at first treated him with marked courtesy, now scarce
spoke to him, save to convey some necessary command for her
service. The Lady Fleming restricted her notice to the most
dry and distant expressions of civility; and Catherine Seyton
became bitter in her pleasantries, and shy, cross, and pettish
in any intercourse they had together. What was yet more
provoking, he saw, or thought he saw, marks of intelligence
betwixt George Douglas and the beautiful Catherine Seyton;
and, sharpened by jealousy, he wrought himself almost into
a certainty that the looks which they exchanged conveyed
matters of deep and serious import. "No wonder," he
thought, "if, courted by the son of a proud and powerful
baron, she can no longer spare a word or look to the poor
fortuneless page."
In a word, Roland Græme's situation became truly disagree-
able, and his heart naturally enough rebelled against the injus-
294
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
tice of this treatment, which deprived him of the only comfort
which he had received for submitting to a confinement in
other respects irksome. He accused Queen Mary and Cather-
ine Seyton (for concerning the opinion of Dame Fleming he
was indifferent) of inconsistency in being displeased with him
on account of the natural consequences of an order of their
own. Why did they send him to hear this overpowering
preacher? The Abbott Ambrosius, he recollected, understood
the weakness of their Popish cause better, when he enjoined
him to repeat within his own mind aves, and credos, and
paters all the while old Henry Warden preached or lectured,
that so he might secure himself against lending even a mo-
mentary ear to his heretical doctrine. "But I will endure this.
life no longer," said he to himself, manfully; "do they sup-
pose I would betray my mistress, because I see cause to doubt
of her religion? That would be a serving, as they say, the
devil for God's sake. I will forth into the world; he that serves
fair ladies may at least expect kind looks and kind words; and
I bear not the mind of a gentleman, to submit to cold treatment
and suspicion, and a life-long captivity besides. I will speak
to George Douglas to-morrow when we go out a-fishing."
A sleepless night was spent in agitating this magnanimous
resolution, and he arose in the morning not perfectly decided
in his own mind whether he should abide by it or not. It
happened that he was summoned by the Queen at an unusual
hour, and just as he was about to go with George Douglas.
He went to attend her commands in the garden; but, as he
had his angling-rod in his hand, the circumstance announced
his previous intention, and the Queen, turning to the Lady
Fleming, said: "Catherine must devise some other amusement
for us, ma bonne amie: our discreet page has already made
his party for the day's pleasure."
"I said from the beginning," answered the Lady Fleming,
"that your Grace ought not to rely on being favoured with
the company of a youth who has so many Huguenot acquaint-
ances, and has the means of amusing himself far more agree-
ably than with us.”
"I wish," said Catherine, her animated features reddening
•
THE ABBOT.
295
with mortification, "that his friends would sail away with
him for good, and bring us in return a page—if such a thing
can be found-faithful to his Queen and to his religion."
"One part of your wishes may be granted, madam," said
Roland Græme, unable any longer to restrain his sense of the
treatment which he received on all sides; and he was about to
add, "I heartily wish you a companion in my room, if such
can be found, who is capable of enduring woman's caprices
without going distracted." Luckily, he recollected the re-
morse which he had felt at having given way to the vivacity
of his temper upon a similar occasion; and closing his lips,
imprisoned, until it died on his tongue, a reproach so misbe-
coming the presence of majesty.
"Why do you remain there," said the Queen, "as if you
were rooted to the parterre?"
"I but attend your Grace's commands," said the page.
'I have none to give you. Begone, sir!"
As he left the garden to go to the boat, he distinctly heard
Mary upbraid one of her attendants in these words: "You see
to what you have exposed us!"
This brief scene at once determined Roland Græme's reso-
lution to quit the castle, if it were possible, and to impart his
resolution to George Douglas without loss of time. That gen-
tleman, in his usual mood of silence, sate in the stern of the
little skiff which they used on such occasions, trimming his
fishing-tackle, and, from time to time, indicating by signs to
Græme, who pulled the oars, which way he should row.
When they were a furlong or two from the castle, Roland
rested on the oars, and addressed his companion somewhat
abruptly: "I have something of importance to say to you,
under your pleasure, fair sir."
The pensive melancholy of Douglas's countenance at once
gave way to the eager, keen, and startled look of one who ex-
pects to hear something of deep and alarming import.
"I am wearied to the very death of this Castle of Loch-
leven," continued Roland.
"Is that all?" said Douglas; "I know none of its inhabi-
tants who are much better pleased with it.”
296
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Ay-but I am neither a native of the house nor a prisoner
in it, and so I may reasonably desire to leave it."
66
"You might desire to quit it with equal reason," answered
Douglas, "if you were both the one and the other."
"But," said Roland Græme, "I am not only tired of living
in Lochleven Castle, but I am determined to quit it.”
"That is a resolution more easily taken than executed,"
replied Douglas.
"Not if yourself, sir, and your lady [grand-] mother choose
to consent," answered the page.
"You mistake the matter, Roland," said Douglas: "you
will find that the consent of two other persons is equally es-
sential—that of the Lady Mary, your mistress, and that of
my uncle the Regent, who placed you about her person, and
who will not think it proper that she should change her at-
tendants so soon.
29
"And must I then remain whether I will or no?" demanded
the page, somewhat appalled at a view of the subject which
would have occurred sooner to a person of more experience.
"At least," said George Douglas, "you must will to remain
till my uncle consents to dismiss you.
"2
66
'Frankly," said the page, "and speaking to you as a gen-
tleman who is incapable of betraying me, I will confess that,
if I thought myself a prisoner here, neither walls nor water
should confine mé long.”
"Frankly," said Douglas, "I could not much blame you for
the attempt; yet, for all that, my father, or uncle, or the earl,
or any of my brothers, or, in short, any of the King's lords
into whose hands you fell, would in such a case hang you like
a dog, or like a sentinel who deserts his post; and I promise
you that you will hardly escape them. But row towards St.
Serf's Island: there is a breeze from the west, and we shall
have sport keeping to windward of the isle, where the rip-
ple is strongest. We will speak more of what you have
mentioned when we have had an hour's sport."
Their fishing was successful, though never did two anglers
pursue even that silent and unsocial pleasure with less of
verbal intercourse.
THE ABBOT.
297
When their time was expired, Douglas took the oars in his
turn, and by his order Roland Græme steered the boat, direct-
ing her course upon the landing-place at the castle. But he
also stopped in the midst of his course, and, looking around
him, said to Græme: "There is a thing which I could mention
to thee; but it is so deep a secret that even here, surrounded
as we are, by waves and sky, without the possibility of a lis-
tener, I cannot prevail on myself to speak it out.”
"Better leave it unspoken, sir," answered Roland Græme,
"if you doubt the honour of him who alone can hear it.'
"I doubt not your honour," replied George Douglas; "but
you are young, imprudent, and changeful."
"Young," said Roland, "I am, and it may be imprudent;
but who hath informed you that I am changeful?"
“One that knows you, perhaps, better than you know your-
self,” replied Douglas.
"I suppose you mean Catherine Seyton," said the page, his
heart rising as he spoke; "but she is herself fifty times more
variable in her humour than the very water which we are
floating upon."
"My young acquaintance," said Douglas, "I pray you to
remember that Catherine Seyton is a lady of blood and birth,
and must not be lightly spoken of.”
"Master George of Douglas," said Græme, "as that speech
seemed to be made under the warrant of something like a
threat, I pray you to observe that I value not the threat at
the estimation of a fin of one of these dead trouts; and, more-
over, I would have you know that the champion who under-
takes the defence of every lady of blood and birth whom men
accuse of change of faith and of fashion is like to have enough
of work on his hands.'
ور
"Go to," said the seneschal, but in a tone of good-humour,
"thou art a foolish boy, unfit to deal with any matter more
serious than the casting of a net or the flying of a hawk.”
"If your secret concern Catherine Seyton," said the page,
"I care not for it, and so you may tell her if you will. I wot
she can shape you opportunity to speak with her, as she has
ere now."
298
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
The flush which passed over Douglas's face made the page
aware that he had lighted on a truth when he was, in fact,
speaking at random; and the feeling that he had done so was
like striking a dagger into his own heart. His companion,
without further answer, resumed the oars, and pulled lustily
till they arrived at the island and the castle. The servants
received the produce of their sport, and the two fishers, turn-
ing from each other in silence, went each to his several apart-
ment.
Roland Græme had spent about an hour in grumbling against
Catherine Seyton, the Queen, the Regent, and the whole house
of Lochleven, with George Douglas at the head of it, when the
time approached that his duty called him to attend the meal
of Queen Mary. As he arranged his dress for this purpose,
he grudged the trouble, which on similar occasions he used,
with boyish foppery, to consider as one of the most important
duties of his day; and when he went to take his place behind
the chair of the Queen, it was with an air of offended dignity
which could not escape her observation, and probably appeared
to her ridiculous enough, for she whispered something in
French to her ladies, at which the Lady Fleming laughed, and
Catherine appeared half diverted and half disconcerted. This
pleasantry, of which the subject was concealed from him, the
unfortunate page received, of course, as a new offence, and
called an additional degree of sullen dignity into his mien,
which might have exposed him to farther raillery, but that
Mary appeared disposed to make allowance for and compas-
sionate his feelings.
With the peculiar tact and delicacy which no woman pos-
sessed in greater perfection, she began to soothe by degrees
the vexed spirit of her magnanimous attendant. The excel-
lence of the fish which he had taken in his expedition, the
high flavour and beautiful red colour of the trouts, which have
long given distinction to the lake, led her first to express her
thanks to her attendant for so agreeable an addition to her
table, especially upon a jour de jeûne; and then brought on
inquiries into the place where the fish had been taken, their
size, their peculiarities, the times when they were in season,
THE ABBOT.
299
and a comparison between the Lochleven trouts and those
which are found in the lakes and rivers of the south of Scot-
land. The ill-humour of Roland Græme was never of an ob-
stinate character. It rolled away like mist before the sun,
and he was easily engaged in a keen and animated dissertation
about Lochleven trout, and sea trout, and river trout, and bull
trout, and char, which never rise to fly, and par, which some
suppose infant salmon, and "herlings," which frequent the
Nith, and "vendisses," which are only found in the Castle
Loch of Lochmaben; and he was hurrying on with the eager
impetuosity and enthusiasm of a young sportsman, when he
observed that the smile with which the Queen at first listened
to him died languidly away, and that, in spite of her efforts
to suppress them, tears rose to her eyes. He stopped suddenly
short, and, distressed in his turn, asked, if he had had the
misfortune unwittingly to give displeasure to her Grace?
"No, my poor boy," replied the Queen; "but as you num-
bered up the lakes and rivers of my kingdom, imagination
cheated me, as it will do, and snatched me from these dreary
walls away to the romantic streams of Nithsdale and the royal
towers of Lochmaben. O land, which my fathers have so
long ruled! of the pleasures which you extend so freely your
Queen is now deprived, and the poorest beggar, who may
wander free from one landward town to another, would scorn
to change fates with Mary of Scotland!"
66
"Your Highness," said the Lady Fleming, "will do well to
withdraw."
"Come with me then, Fleming," said the Queen: "I would
not burden hearts so young as these are with the sight of my
sorrows."
She accompanied these words with a look of melancholy
compassion towards Roland and Catherine, who were now left
alone together in the apartment.
The page found his situation not a little embarrassing; for,
as every reader has experienced who may have chanced to be
in such a situation, it is extremely difficult to maintain the
full dignity of an offended person in the presence of a beauti-
ful girl, whatever reason we may have for being angry with
3
300
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
}
her. Catherine Seyton, on her part, sate still like a lingering
ghost, which, conscious of the awe which its presence imposes,
is charitably disposed to give the poor confused mortal whom
it visits time to recover his senses, and comply with the grand
rule of demonology by speaking first. But as Roland seemed
in no hurry to avail himself of her condescension, she carried
it a step farther, and herself opened the conversation.
"I pray you, fair sir, if it may be permitted me to disturb
your august reverie by a question so simple, what may have
become of your rosary?”"
"It is lost, madam-lost some time since," said Roland,
partly embarrassed, and partly indignant.
"And may I ask farther, sir," said Catherine, "why you.
have not replaced it with another? I have half a mind," she
said, taking from her pocket a string of ebony beads adorned
with gold, "to bestow one upon you, to keep for my sake, just
to remind you of former acquaintance.
""
There was a little tremulous accent in the tone with which
these words were delivered, which at once put to flight Roland
Græme's resentment, and brought him to Catherine's side;
but she instantly resumed the bold and firm accent which was
more familiar to her. "I did not bid you," she said,
"she said, “come
and sit so close by me; for the acquaintance that I spoke of
has been stiff and cold, dead and buried, for this many a day.”
Now Heaven forbid!" said the page, "it has only slept;
and now that you desire it should awake, fair Catherine, be-
lieve me that a pledge of your returning favour-
""
""
"Nay, nay," said Catherine, withholding the rosary, towards
which, as he spoke, he extended his hand, "I have changed
my mind on better reflection. What should a heretic do with
these holy beads, that have been blessed by the Father of the
church himself?"
Roland winced grievously, for he saw plainly which way
the discourse was now likely to tend, and felt that it must at
all events be embarrassing. "Nay, but," he said, "it was as
a token of your own regard that you offered them.”
"Ay, fair sir, but that regard attended the faithful subject,
the loyal and pious Catholic, the individual who was so solemn
1
I
I
THE ABBOT.
301
ly devoted at the same time with myself to the same grand
duty; which, you must now understand, was to serve the
church and Queen. To such a person, if you ever heard of
him, was my regard due, and not to him who associates with
heretics, and is about to become a renegado."
"I should scarce believe, fair mistress," said Roland,
indignantly, "that the vane of your favour turned only to a
Catholic wind, considering that it points so plainly to George
Douglas, who, I think, is both kingsman and Protestant."
"Think better of George Douglas," said Catherine, "than
to believe" and then checking herself, as if she had
spoken too much, she went on, "I assure you, fair Master
Roland, that all who wish you well are sorry for you."
"Their number is very few, I believe," answered Roland,
"and their sorrow, if they feel any, not deeper than ten
minutes' time will cure."
"They are more numerous, and think more deeply concern-
ing you, than you seem to be aware," answered Catherine.
"But perhaps they think wrong. You are the best judge in
your own affairs; and if you prefer gold and church lands to
honour and loyalty, and the faith of your fathers, why should
you be hampered in conscience more than others?"
"May Heaven bear witness for me," said Roland, "that if
I entertain any difference of opinion that is, if I nourish any
doubts in point of religion, they have been adopted on the
conviction of my own mind, and the suggestion of my own
conscience!"
"Ay, ay, your conscience-your conscience!" repeated she
with satiric emphasis-"your conscience is the scapegoat; I
warrant it an able one! it will bear the burden of one of the
best manors of the Abbey of St. Mary of Kennaquhair, lately
forfeited to our noble Lord the King by the abbot and com-
munity thereof, for the high crime of fidelity to their religious
vows, and now to be granted by the High and Mighty Traitor,
and so forth, James Earl of Murray, to the good squire of
dames, Roland Græme, for his loyal and faithful service as
under-espial and deputy-turnkey for securing the person of
his lawful sovereign, Queen Mary."
302
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
}
"You misconstrue me cruelly," said the page—"yes, Cathe-
rine, most cruelly. God knows I would protect this poor lady
at the risk of my life, or with my life; but what can I do—
what can any one do for her?"
"Much may be done enough may be done-all may be
done-if men will be but true and honourable, as Scottish men
were in the days of Bruce and Wallace. Oh, Roland, from
what an enterprise you are now withdrawing your heart and
hand, through mere fickleness and coldness of spirit!”
"How can I withdraw," said Roland, "from an enterprise
which has never been communicated to me? Has the Queen,
or have you, or has any one, communicated with me upon
anything for her service which I have refused? Or have you
not, all of you, held me at such a distance from your counsels
as if I were the most faithless spy since the days of Gane-
lon?" 1
"And who," said Catherine Seyton, "would trust the sworn
friend, and pupil, and companion of the heretic preacher Hen-
derson? Ay, a proper tutor you have chosen, instead of the
excellent Ambrosius, who is now turned out of house and
homestead, if indeed he is not languishing in a dungeon, for
withstanding the tyranny of Morton, to whose brother the
temporalities of that noble house of God have been gifted
away by the Regent."
"Is it possible?" said the page; "and is the excellent Father
Ambrose in such distress?"
"He would account the news of your falling away from the
faith of your fathers," answered Catherine, "a worse mishap
than aught that tyranny can inflict on himself."
"But why," said Roland, very much moved-"why should
you suppose that-that-that it is with me as you say?"
"Do you yourself deny it?" replied Catherine; "do you not
admit that you have drunk the poison which you should have
dashed from your lips? Do you deny that it now ferments in
your veins, if it has not altogether corrupted the springs of
life? Do you deny that you have your doubts, as you proudly
term them, respecting what popes and councils have declared
1 See Note 17.
THE ABBOT.
303
it unlawful to doubt of? Is not your faith wavering, if not
overthrown? Does not the heretic preacher boast his con-
quest? Does not the heretic woman of this prison-house
hold up thy example to others? Do not the Queen and the
Lady Fleming believe in thy falling away? And is there any
except one-yes, I will speak it out, and think as lightly as
you please of my good-will-is there one except myself that
holds even a lingering hope that you may yet prove what we
once all believed of you?"
"I know not,” said our poor page, much embarrassed by the
view which was thus presented to him of the conduct he was
expected to pursue, and by a person in whom he was not the
less interested that so long a residence in Lochleven Castle,
with no object so likely to attract his undivided attention, had
taken place since they had first met "I know not what you
expect of me, or fear from me. I was sent hither to attend
Queen Mary, and to her I acknowledge the duty of a servant
through life and death. If any one had expected service of
another kind, I was not the party to render it. I neither
avow nor disclaim the doctrines of the Reformed Church.
Will you have the truth? It seems to me that the profligacy
of the Catholic clergy has brought this judgment on their own
heads, and, for aught I know, it may be for their reformation.
But, for betraying this unhappy Queen, God knows I am guilt-
less of the thought. Did I even believe worse of her than as
her servant I wish-as her subject I dare-to do, I would not
betray her; far from it-I would aid her in aught which could
tend to a fair trial of her cause."
"Enough!-enough!" answered Catherine, clasping her
hands together; "then thou wilt not desert us if any means
are presented by which, placing our royal mistress at freedom,
this case may be honestly tried betwixt her and her rebellious
subjects?"
"Nay, but, fair Catherine," replied the page, "hear but
what the Lord of Murray said when he sent me hither
""
"Hear but what the devil said," replied the maiden, "rather
than what a false subject, a false brother, a false counsellor, a
false friend said! A man raised from a petty pensioner on
304
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the crown's bounty to be the counsellor of majesty, and the
prime distributor of the bounties of the state; one with whom
rank, fortune, title, consequence, and power all grew up like
a mushroom by the mere warm good-will of the sister whom,
in requital, he hath mewed up in this place of melancholy
seclusion; whom, in further requital, he has deposed; and
whom, if he dared, he would murder!"
"I think not so ill of the Earl of Murray," said Roland
Græme; "and sooth to speak," he added, with a smile, "it
would require some bribe to make me embrace with firm and
desperate resolution, either one side or the other."
“Nay, if that is all,” replied Catherine Seyton, in a tone of
enthusiasm, "you shall be guerdoned with prayers from op-
pressed subjects-from dispossessed clergy-from insulted
nobles-with immortal praise by future ages-with eager
gratitude by the present-with fame on earth and with felicity
in Heaven! Your country will thank you-your Queen will
be debtor to you—you will achieve at once the highest from
the lowest degree in chivalry-all men will honour, all women
will love you and I, sworn with you so early to the accom-
plishment of Queen Mary's freedom, will-yes, I will love you
better than-ever sister loved brother!"
"Say on-say on!" whispered Roland, kneeling on one
knee, and taking her hand, which, in the warmth of exhorta-
tion, Catherine held towards him.
"Nay," said she, pausing, "I have already said too much—
far too much if I prevail not with you, far too little if I do.
But I prevail," she continued, seeing that the countenance of
the youth she addressed returned her enthusiasm of her own—
"I prevail; or rather the good cause prevails through its own
strength-thus I devote thee to it." And as she spoke she
approached her finger to the brow of the astonished youth,
and, without touching it, signed the cross over his forehead;
stooped her face towards him, and seemed to kiss the empty
space in which she had traced the symbol; then starting up,
and extricating herself from his grasp, darted into the Queen's
apartment.
Roland Græme remained as the enthusiastic maiden had
THE ABBOT.
305
left him, kneeling on one knee, with breath withheld, and
with eyes fixed upon the space which the fairy form of Cathe-
rine Seyton had so lately occupied. If his thoughts were not
of unmixed delight, they at least partook of that thrilling and
intoxicating, though mingled, sense of pain and pleasure, the
most overpowering which life offers in its blended cup. He
rose and retired slowly; and although the chaplain, Mr. Hen-
derson, preached on that evening his best sermon against the
errors of Popery, I would not engage that he was followed ac-
curately through the train of his reasoning by the young prose-
lyte, with a view to whose especial benefit he had handled the
subject.
CHAPTER XXV.
And when Love's torch hath set the heart in flame,
Comes Seignor Reason, with his saws and cautions,
Giving such aid as the old grey-beard sexton,
Who from the church-vault drags his crazy engine,
To ply its dribbling ineffectual streamlet
Against a conflagration.
Old Play.
In a musing mood, Roland Græme upon the ensuing morn-
ing betook himself to the battlements of the castle, as a spot
where he might indulge the course of his thick-coming fancies
with least chance of interruption. But his place of retirement
was in the present case ill chosen, for he was presently joined
by Mr. Elias Henderson.
66
"I sought you, young man," said the preacher, "having to
speak of something which concerns you nearly."
The page had no pretence for avoiding the conference which
the chaplain thus offered, though he felt that it might prove
an embarrassing one.
"In teaching thee, as far as my feeble knowledge hath per-
mitted, thy duty towards God," said the chaplain, "there are
particulars of your duty towards man upon which I was unwill-
ing long or much to insist. You are here in the service of a
lady, honourable as touching her birth, deserving of all com-
passion as respects her misfortunes, and garnished with even
20
306
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
but too many of those outward qualities which win men's re-
gard and affection. Have you ever considered your regard to
this Lady Mary of Scotland in its true light and bearing?"
"I trust, reverend sir," replied Roland Græme, "that I am
well aware of the duties a servant in my condition owes to his
royal mistress, especially in her lowly and distressed state."
True," answered the preacher; "but it is even that honest
feeling which may, in the Lady Mary's case, carry thee into
great crime and treachery."
(6
"How so, reverend sir?" replied the page; "I profess I
understand you not.”
""
"I speak to you not of the crimes of this ill-advised lady,'
said the preacher; "they are not subjects for the ears of her
sworn servant. But it is enough to say that this unhappy
person hath rejected more offers of grace, more hopes of glory,
than ever were held out to earthly princes; and that she is
now, her day of favour being passed, sequestered in this
lonely castle, for the common weal of the people of Scotland,
and it may be for the benefit of her own soul."
"Reverend sir," said Roland, somewhat impatiently, “I am
but too well aware that my unfortunate mistress is imprisoned,
since I have the misfortune to share in her restraint myself,
of which, to speak sooth, I am heartily weary."
"It is even of that which I am about to speak," said the
chaplain, mildly; "but first, my good Roland, look forth on
the pleasant prospect of yonder cultivated plain. You see,
where the smoke arises, yonder village standing half-hidden
by the trees, and you know it to be the dwelling-place of
peace and industry. From space to space, each by the side
of its own stream, you see the grey towers of barons, with
cottages interspersed; and you know that they also, with their
household, are now living in unity-the lance hung upon the
wall and the sword resting in its sheath. You, see too, more
than one fair church where the pure waters of life are offered
to the thirsty, and where the hungry are refreshed with spirit-
ual food. What would he deserve who should bring fire and
slaughter into so fair and happy a scene-who should bare the
swords of the gentry and turn them against each other-who
THE ABBOT.
307
should give tower and cottage to the flames, and slake the
embers with the blood of the indwellers? What would he de-
serve who should lift up again that ancient Dagon of supersti-
tion whom the worthies of the time have beaten down, and
who should once more make the churches of God the high
places of Baal?"
"You have limned a frightful picture, reverend sir," said
Roland Græme; "yet I guess not whom you would charge
with the purpose of effecting a change so horrible."
"God forbid," replied the preacher, "that I should say to
thee, thou art the man. Yet beware, Roland Græme, that
thou, in serving thy mistress, hold fast the still higher service
which thou owest to the peace of thy country and the pros-
perity of her inhabitants; else, Roland Græme, thou mayst be
the very man upon whose head will fall the curses and assured
punishment due to such work. If thou art won by the song
of these sirens to aid that unhappy lady's escape from this
place of penitence and security, it is over with the peace of
Scotland's cottages and with the prosperity of her palaces;
and the babe unborn shall curse the name of the man who gave
inlet to the disorder which will follow the war betwixt the
mother and the son."
"I know of no such plan, reverend sir," answered the page,
"and therefore can aid none such. My duty towards the Queen
has been simply that of an attendant; it is a task of which, at
times, I would willingly have been freed; nevertheless
""
"It is to prepare thee for the enjoyment of something more
of liberty," said the preacher, "that I have endeavoured to
impress upon you the deep responsibility under which your
office must be discharged. George Douglas hath told the
Lady Lochleven that you are weary of this service, and my
intercession hath partly determined her good ladyship that,
as your discharge cannot be granted, you shall, instead, be
employed in certain commissions on the mainland, which have
hitherto been discharged by other persons of confidence.
Wherefore, come with me to the lady, for even to-day such
duty will be imposed on you.”
"I trust you will hold me excused, reverend sir,” said the
308
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
page, who felt that an increase of confidence on the part of
the lady of the castle and her family would render his situa-
tion in a moral view doubly embarrassing, “ one cannot serve
two masters; and I much fear that my mistress will not hold
me excused for taking employment under another.”
66
"Fear not that,” said the preacher; "her consent shall be
asked and obtained. I fear she will yield it but too easily,
as hoping to avail herself of your agency to maintain corre-
spondence with her friends, as those falsely call themselves
who would make her name the watchword for civil war.
""
'And thus," said the page, "I shall be exposed to suspicion
on all sides; for my mistress will consider me as a spy placed
on her by her enemies, seeing me so far trusted by them;
and the Lady Lochleven will never cease to suspect the possi-
bility of my betraying her, because circumstances put it into
my power to do so; I would rather remain as I am."
There followed a pause of one or two minutes, during which
Henderson looked steadily in Roland's countenance, as if de-
sirous to ascertain whether there was not more in the answer
than the precise words seemed to imply. He failed in this
point, however; for Roland, bred a page from childhood,
knew how to assume a sullen pettish cast of countenance, well
enough calculated to hide all internal emotions.
"I understand thee not, Roland," said the preacher,
rather thou thinkest on this matter more deeply than I appre-
hended to be in thy nature. Methought the delight of going
on shore with thy bow, or thy gun, or thy angling-rod, would
have borne away all other feelings."
"And so it would," replied Roland, who perceived the dan-
ger of suffering Henderson's half-raised suspicions to become
fully awake-"I would have thought of nothing but the gun
and the oar, and the wild water-fowl that tempt me by sailing
among the sedges yonder so far out of flight-shot, had you not
spoken of my going on shore as what was to occasion burning
of town and tower, the downfall of the Evangel, and the up-
setting of the mass.
""
66
or
"Follow me, then," said Henderson, "and we will seek the
Lady Lochleven."
THE ABBOT.
309
They found her at breakfast with her grandson George
Douglas. "Peace be with your ladyship!" said the preacher,
bowing to his patroness; "Roland Græme awaits your order."
"Young man," said the lady, "our chaplain hath warranted
for thy fidelity, and we are determined to give you certain
errands to do for us in our town of Kinross."
66
Not by my advice," said Douglas, coldly.
"I said not that it was," answered the lady, something
sharply. "The mother of thy father may, I should think, be
old enough to judge for herself in a matter so simple. Thou
wilt take the skiff, Roland, and two of my people, whom
Dryfesdale or Randal will order out, and fetch off certain
stuff of plate and hangings which should last night be lodged
at Kinross by the wains from Edinburgh."
"And give this packet," said George Douglas, "to a servant
of ours, whom you will find in waiting there. It is the report
to my father," he added, looking towards his grandmother,
who acquiesced by bending her head.
66
I have already mentioned to Master Henderson,” said Ro-
land Græme, "that, as my duty requires my attendance on the
Queen, her Grace's permission for my journey ought to be
obtained before I can undertake your commission."
Look to it, my son," said the old lady, "the scruple of the
youth is honourable."
Craving your pardon, madam, I have no wish to force
myself on her presence thus early," said Douglas, in an in-
different tone; "it might displease her, and were no way
agreeable to me.”
"And I," said the Lady Lochleven, "although her temper
hath been more gentle of late, have no will to undergo, with-
out necessity, the rancour of her wit."
"Under your permission, madam," said the chaplain, "I
will myself render your request to the Queen. During my
long residence in this house she hath not deigned to see me in
private, or to hear my doctrine; yet so may Heaven prosper
my labours, as love for her soul, and desire to bring her into
the right path, was my chief motive for coming hither."
"Take care, Master Henderson," said Douglas, in a tone
310
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
which seemed almost sarcastic, "lest you rush hastily on an
adventure to which you have no vocation; you are learned,
and know the adage, Ne accesseris in consilium nisi vocatus.
Who hath required this at your hand?"
The Master to whose service I am called," answered the
preacher, looking upward-"He who hath commanded me to
be earnest in season and out of season.
""
"Your acquaintance hath not been much, I think, with
courts or princes," continued the young esquire.
"No, sir,” replied Henderson, “but, like my master Knox,
I see nothing frightful in the fair face of a pretty lady."
"My son," said the Lady of Lochleven, "quench not the
good man's zeal: let him do the errand to this unhappy
princess."
66
'With more willingness than I would do it myself," said
George Douglas. Yet something in his manner appeared to
contradict his words.
The minister went accordingly, followed by Roland Græme,
and, demanding an audience of the imprisoned princess, was
admitted. He found her with her ladies engaged in the daily
task of embroidery. The Queen received him with that cour-
tesy which, in ordinary cases, she used towards all who ap-
proached her, and the clergyman, in opening his commission,
was obviously somewhat more embarrassed than he had ex-
pected to be. "The good Lady of Lochleven, may it please
your Grace-
""
He made a short pause, during which Mary said, with a
smile: "My Grace would, in truth, be well pleased were the
Lady of Lochleven our good lady; but go on-what is the will
of the good Lady of Lochleven?"
"She desires, madam," said the chaplain, "that your Grace
will permit this young gentleman, your page, Roland Græme,
to pass to Kinross, to look after some household stuff and
hangings, sent hither for the better furnishing your Grace's
apartments."
"The Lady of Lochleven," said the Queen, "uses needless
ceremony, in requesting our permission for that which stands
within her own pleasure. We well know that this young gen-
1
„Domes
:
!
THE ABBOT.
311
tleman's attendance on us had not been so long permitted were
he not thought to be more at the command of that good lady
than at ours. But we cheerfully yield consent that he shall
go on her errand; with our will we would doom no living crea-
ture to the captivity which we ourselves must suffer."
"Ay, madam," answered the preacher, "and it is doubtless
natural for humanity to quarrel with its prison-house. Yet
there have been those who have found that time spent in the
house of temporal captivity may be so employed as to redeem
us from spiritual slavery."
"I apprehend your meaning, sir,” replied the Queen, “but
I have heard your apostle-I have heard Master John Knox;
and were I to be perverted, I would willingly resign to the
ablest and most powerful of heresiarchs the poor honour he
might acquire by overcoming my faith and my hope."
"Madam," said the preacher, "it is not to the talents or
skill of the husbandman that God gives the increase: the
words which were offered in vain by him whom you justly
call our apostle, during the bustle and gaiety of a court, may
yet find better acceptance during the leisure for reflection
which this place affords. God knows, lady, that I speak in
singleness of heart, as one who would as soon compare himself
to the immortal angels as to the holy man whom you have
named. Yet would you but condescend to apply to their
noblest use those talents and that learning which all allow
you to be possessed of-would you afford us but the slightest
hope that you would hear and regard what can be urged
against the blinded superstition and idolatry in which you
were brought up, sure am I, that the most powerfully gifted
of my brethren, that even John Knox himself, would hasten
hither, and account the rescue of your single soul from the nets
of Romish error- ""
"I'am obliged to you and to them for their charity," said
Mary; "but as I have at present but one presence-chamber, I
would reluctantly see it converted into a Huguenot synod."
"At least, madam, be not thus obstinately blinded in your
errors! Hear one who has hungered and thirsted, watched
and prayed, to undertake the good work of your conversion,
312
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
and who would be content to die the instant that a work SO
advantageous for yourself and so beneficial to Scotland were
accomplished. Yes, lady, could I but shake the remaining
pillar of the heathen temple in this land-and that permit me
to term your faith in the delusions of Rome-I could be con-
tent to die overwhelmed in the ruins!"
“I will not insult your zeal, sir," replied Mary, "by saying
you are more likely to make sport for the Philistines than to
overwhelm them: your charity claims my thanks, for it is
warmly expressed, and may be truly purposed. But believe
as well of me as I am willing to do of you, and think that I
may be as anxious to recall you to the ancient and only road
as you are to teach me your new bye-ways to Paradise."
66
Then, madam, if such be your generous purpose," said
Henderson, eagerly, "what hinders that we should dedicate
some part of that time unhappily now too much at your Grace's
disposal to discuss a question so weighty? You, by report of
all men, are both learned and witty; and I, though without
such advantages, am strong in my cause as in a tower of de-
fence. Why should we not spend some space in endeavouring
to discover which of us hath the wrong side in this important
matter?"
"Nay," said Queen Mary, "I never alleged my force was
strong enough to accept of a combat en champ clos with a
scholar and a polemic. Besides, the match is not equal.
You, sir, might retire when you felt the battle go against you,
while I am tied to the stake, and have no permission to say
the debate wearies me. I would be alone."
She courtesied low to him as she uttered these words; and
Henderson, whose zeal was indeed ardent, but did not extend
to the neglect of delicacy, bowed in return, and prepared to
withdraw.
"I would," he said, "that my earnest wish, my most zealous
prayer, could procure to your Grace any blessing or comfort,
but especially that in which alone blessing or comfort is, as
easily as the slightest intimation of your wish will remove me
from your presence."
He was in the act of departing, when Mary said to him with
THE ABBOT.
313
much courtesy: "Do me no injury in your thoughts, good sir; it
may be, that if my time here be protracted longer-as surely
I hope it will not, trusting that either my rebel subjects will
repent of their disloyalty, or that my faithful lieges will ob-
tain the upper hand-but if my time be here protracted, it
may be I shall have no displeasure in hearing one who seems
so reasonable and compassionate as yourself, and I may hazard
your contempt by endeavouring to recollect and repeat the rea-
sons which schoolmen and councils give for the faith that is
in me, although I fear that, God help me! my Latin has de-
serted me with my other possessions. This must, however,
be for another day. Meanwhile, sir, let the Lady of Loch-
leven employ my page as she lists; I will not afford suspicion
by speaking a word to him before he goes. Roland Græme,
my friend, lose not an opportunity of amusing thyself: dance,
sing, run, and leap-all may be done merrily on the mainland;
but he must have more than quicksilver in his veins who
would frolic here."
-
“Alas! madam," said the preacher, "to what is it you ex-
hort the youth, while time passes and eternity summons!
Can our salvation be ensured by idle mirth, or our good work
wrought out without fear and trembling?"
•
"I cannot fear or tremble," replied the Queen: "to Mary
Stuart such emotions are unknown. But, if weeping and sor-
row on my part will atone for the boy's enjoying an hour of
boyish pleasure, be assured the penance shall be duly paid."
(6
'Nay, but, gracious lady," said the preacher, "in this you
greatly err: our tears and our sorrows are all too little for our
own faults and follies, nor can we transfer them, as your
church falsely teaches, to the benefit of others.".
66
'May I pray you, sir," answered the Queen, "with as little
offence as such a prayer may import, to transfer yourself else-
where? We are sick at heart, and may not now be disturbed
with further controversy; and thou, Roland, take this little
purse." Then turning to the divine, she said, showing its
contents: "Look, reverend sir, it contains only these two or
three gold testoons-a coin which, though bearing my own
poor features, I have ever found more active against me than
+
314
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
on my side, just as my subjects take arms against me, with
my own name for their summons and signal. Take this purse
that thou mayst want no means of amusement. Fail not-
fail not to bring me back news from Kinross; only let it be
such as, without suspicion or offence, may be told in the
presence of this reverend gentleman, or of the good Ladv
Lochleven herself."
The last hint was too irresistible to be withstood; and Hen-
derson withdrew, half-mortified, half-pleased with his recep-
tion; for Mary, from long habit and the address which was
natural to her, had learned, in an extraordinary degree, the
art of evading discourse which was disagreeable to her feel-
ings or prejudices, without affronting those by whom it was
proffered.
Roland Græme retired with the chaplain at a signal from
his lady; but it did not escape him that, as he left the room,
stepping backwards and making the deep obeisance due to
royalty, Catherine Seyton held up her slender forefinger, with
a gesture which he alone could witness, and which seemed to
say: “Remember what has passed betwixt us.
""
-
The young page had now his last charge from the Lady of
Lochleven. "There are revels," she said, "this day at the
village. My son's authority is, as yet, unable to prevent
these continued workings of the ancient leaven of folly which
the Romish priests have kneaded into the very souls of the
Scottish peasantry. I do not command thee to abstain from
them—that would be only to lay a snare for thy folly, or to
teach thee falsehood; but enjoy these vanities with modera-
tion, and mark them as something thou must soon learn to re-
nounce and contemn. Our chamberlain at Kinross, Luke
Lundin-Doctor, as he foolishly calleth himself will ac-
quaint thee what is to be done in the matter about which thou
goest. Remember thou art trusted; show thyself, therefore,
worthy of trust."
When we recollect that Roland Græme was not yet nineteen,
and that he had spent his whole life in the solitary Castle of
Avenel, excepting the few hours he had passed in Edinburgh,
and his late residence at Lochleven, the latter period having
THE ABBOT.
315
very little served to enlarge his acquaintance with the gay
world, we cannot wonder that his heart beat high with hope
and curiosity at the prospect of partaking the sport even of a
country wake.
He hastened to his little cabin, and turned
over the wardrobe with which, in every respect becoming his
station, he had been supplied from Edinburgh, probably by
order of the Earl of Murray. By the Queen's command he
had hitherto waited upon her in mourning, or at least in sad-
coloured raiment. Her condition, she said, admitted of noth-
ing more gay. But now he selected the gayest dress his ward-
robe afforded, composed of scarlet, slashed with black satin
-the royal colours of Scotland; combed his long curled hair;
disposed his chain and medal round a beaver hat of the newest
block; and with the gay falchion which had reached him in so
mysterious a manner hung by his side in an embroidered belt,
his apparel, added to his natural frank mien and handsome
figure, formed a most commendable and pleasing specimen of
the young gallant of the period. He sought to make his part-
ing reverence to the Queen and her ladies, but old Dryfesdale
hurried him to the boat.
"We will have no private audiences," he said, "my master;
since you are to be trusted with somewhat, we will try at least
to save thee from the temptation of opportunity. God help
thee, child," he added, with a glance of contempt at his gay
clothes, “an the bear-ward be yonder from St. Andrews, have
a care thou go not near him.”
ם.
"And wherefore, I pray you?" said Roland.
"Lest he take thee for one of his runaway jackanapes,'
answered the steward, smiling sourly.
"I wear not my clothes at thy cost," said Roland, indig-
nantly.
""
"Nor at thine own either, my son," replied the steward,
"else would thy garb more nearly resemble thy merit and thy
station."
Roland Græme suppressed with difficulty the repartee which
arose to his lips, and, wrapping his scarlet mantle around him,
threw himself into the boat, which two rowers, themselves
urged by curiosity to see the revels, pulled stoutly towards
316
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the west end of the lake. As they put off, Roland thought
he could discover the face of Catherine Seyton, though care-
fully withdrawn from observation, peeping from a loophole to
view his departure. He pulled off his hat, and held it up as
a token that he saw and wished her adieu. A white kerchief
waved for a second across the window, and for the rest of the
little voyage the thoughts of Catherine Seyton disputed ground
in his breast with the expectations excited by the approaching
revel. As they drew nearer and nearer the shore, the sounds
of mirth and music, the laugh, the halloo, and the shout came
thicker upon the ear, and in a trice the boat was moored, and
Roland Græme hastened in quest of the chamberlain, that,
being informed what time he had at his own disposal, he
might lay it out to the best advantage.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Room for the master of the ring, ye swains,
Divide your crowded ranks; before him march
The rural minstrelsy, the rattling drum,
The clamorous war-pipe, and far-echoing horn.
SOMERVILLE, Rural Sports.
No long space intervened ere Roland Græme was able to
discover among the crowd of revellers, who gambolled upon
the open space which extends betwixt the village and the
lake, a person of so great importance as Doctor Luke Lundin,
upon whom devolved officially the charge of representing the
lord of the land, and who was attended for support of his au-
thority by a piper, a drummer, and four sturdy clowns armed
with rusty halberds, garnished with party-coloured ribands—-
myrmidons who, early as the day was, had already broken
more than one head in the awful names of the Laird of Loch-
leven and his chamberlain.¹
•
As soon as this dignitary was informed that the castle skiff
had arrived, with a gallant, dressed like a lord's son at the
¹ See Scottish Fairs. Note 18.
THE ABBOT.
317
least, who desired presently to speak to him, he adjusted his
ruff and his black coat, turned round his girdle till the gar
nished hilt of his long rapier became visible, and walked with
due solemnity towards the beach. Solemn indeed he was en-
titled to be, even on less important occasions, for he had been
bred to the venerable study of medicine, as those acquainted
with the science very soon discovered from the aphorisms
which ornamented his discourse. His success had not been
equal to his pretensions; but as he was a native of the neigh-
bouring kingdom of Fife, and bore distant relation to, or de-
pendence upon, the ancient family of Lundin of that ilk, who
were bound in close friendship with the house of Lochleven,
he had, through their interest, got planted comfortably enough
in his present station upon the banks of that beautiful lake.
The profits of his chamberlainship being moderate, especially
in those unsettled times, he had eked it out a little with some
practice in his original profession; and it was said that the
inhabitants of the village and barony of Kinross were not
more effectually thirled (which may be translated enthralled)
to the baron's mill than they were to the medical monopoly of
the chamberlain. Woe betide the family of the rich boor who
presumed to depart this life without a passport from Dr. Luke
Lundin! for if his representatives had aught to settle with
the baron, as it seldom happened otherwise, they were sure to
find a cold friend in the chamberlain. He was considerate
enough, however, gratuitously to help the poor out of their
ailments, and sometimes out of all their other distresses at
the same time.
Formal, in a double proportion, both as a physician and as
a person in office, and proud of the scraps of learning which
rendered his language almost universally unintelligible, Dr.
Luke Lundin approached the beach, and hailed the page as he
advanced towards him. "The freshness of the morning upon
you, fair sir. You are sent, I warrant me, to see if we observe
here the regimen which her good ladyship hath prescribed,
for eschewing all superstitious ceremonies and idle anilities in
these our revels. I am aware that her good ladyship would
willingly have altogether abolished and abrogated them. But
318
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
as I had the honour to quote to her from the works of the
learned Hercules of Saxony, omnis curatio est vel canonica vel
coacta—that is, fair sir—for silk and velvet have seldom their
Latin ad unguem-every cure must be wrought either by art
and induction of rule or by constraint; and the wise physician
chooseth the former. Which argument her ladyship being
pleased to allow well of, I have made it my business so to
blend instruction and caution with delight-fiat mixtio as we
say—that I can answer that the vulgar mind will be defecated
and purged of anile and Popish fooleries by the medicament
adhibited, so that the primæ viæ being cleansed, Master Hen-
derson, or any other able pastor, may at will throw in tonics,
and effectuate a perfect moral cure, tuto, cito, jucunde."
"I have no charge, Doctor Lundin," replied the page-
"Call me not doctor," said the chamberlain, "since I have
laid aside my furred gown and bonnet, and retired me into
this temporality of chamberlainship."
"Oh, sir," said the page, who was no stranger by report to
the character of this original, "the cowl makes not the monk,
neither the cord the friar: we have all heard of the cures
wrought by Doctor Lundin."
"Toys, young sir-trifles," answered the leech, with grave
disclamation of superior skill; "the hit-or-miss practice of a
poor retired gentleman, in a short cloak and doublet. Marry,
Heaven sent its blessing; and this I must say, better fashioned
mediciners have brought fewer patients through--lunga roba
corta scienzia, saith the Italian-ha, fair sir, you have the
language?"
Roland Græme did not think it necessary to expound to this
learned Theban whether he understood him or no; but, leav-
ing that matter uncertain, he told him he came in quest of
certain packages which should have arrived at Kinross and
been placed under the chamberlain's charge the evening
before.
"Body o' me!" said Doctor Lundin, "I fear our common
carrier, John Auchtermuchty, hath met with some mischance,
that he came not up last night with his wains: bad land this
to journey in, my master; and the fool will travel by night
THE ABBOT.
319
too, although-besides all maladies, from your tussis to your
pestis, which walk abroad in the night air-he may well fall
in with half a dozen swashbucklers, who will ease him at once
of his baggage and his earthly complaints. I must send forth
to inquire after him, since he hath stuff of the honourable
household on hand; and, by Our Lady, he hath stuff of mine
too certain drugs sent me from the city for composition of
my alexipharmics; this gear must be looked to. Hodge,
said he, addressing one of his redoubted body-guard, "do thou
and Toby Telford take the mickle brown aver and the black
cut-tailed mare, and make out towards the Keiry Craigs,¹ and
see what tidings you can have of Auchtermuchty and his wains;
I trust it is only the medicine of the pottle-pot-being the only
medicamentum which the beast useth-which hath caused him
""
to tarry on the road. Take the ribands from your halberds,
ye knaves, and get on your jacks, plate-sleeves, and knapsculls,
that your presence may work some terror if you meet with
opposers." He then added, turning to Roland Græme: "I
warrant me we shall have news of the wains in brief season.
Meantime it will please you to look upon the sports; but first
to enter my poor lodging and take your morning's cup. For
what saith the school of Salerno:
Poculum, mane haustum,
Restaurat naturam exhaustam?"
"Your learning is too profound for me," replied the page;
"and so would your draught be likewise, I fear."
""
"Not a whit, fair sir: a cordial cup of sack, impregnated
with wormwood, is the best anti-pestilential draught; and, to
speak truth, the pestilential miasmata are now very rife in
the atmosphere. We live in a happy time, young man, con-
tinued he, in a tone of grave irony, "and have many blessings
unknown to our fathers. Here are two sovereigns in the land,
a regnant and a claimant; that is enough of one good thing,
but, if any one wants more, he may find a king in every peel-
house in the country; so, if we lack government, it is not for
want of governors. Then have we a civil war to phlebotomise
¹ See Note 19.
320
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
us every year, and to prevent our population from starving for
want of food; and for the same purpose we have the plague
proposing us a visit, the best of all recipes for thinning a land,
and converting younger brothers into elder ones. Well, each
man in his vocation. You young fellows of the sword desire
to wrestle, fence, or so forth with some expert adversary; and
for my part, I love to match myself for life or death against
that same plague.'
""
As they proceeded up the street of the little village towards
the doctor's lodgings, his attention was successively occupied
by the various personages whom he met, and pointed out to
the notice of his companion.
"Do you see that fellow with the red bonnet, the blue jer-
kin, and the great rough baton in his hand? I believe that
clown hath the strength of a tower: he has lived fifty years
in the world, and never encouraged the liberal sciences by
buying one pennyworth of medicaments. But see you that
man with the facies Hippocratica ?" said he, pointing out
a thin peasant, with swelled legs, and a most cadaverous counte-
nance; "that I call one of the worthiest men in the barony: he
breakfasts, luncheons, dines, and sups by my advice, and not
without my medicine; and, for his own single part, will go
farther to clear out a moderate stock of pharmaceutics than
half the country besides. How do you, my honest friend?"
said he to the party in question, with a tone of condolence.
"Very weakly, sir, since I took the electuary," answered
the patient; "it neighboured ill with the two spoonfuls of
pease-porridge and the kirn-milk.”
"Pease-porridge and kirn-milk! Have you been under
medicine these ten years, and keep your diet so ill? The
next morning take the electuary by itself, and touch nothing
for six hours." The poor object bowed and limped off.
The next whom the doctor deigned to take notice of was a
lame fellow, by whom the honour was altogether undeserved,
for at sight of the mediciner he began to shuffle away in the
crowd as fast as his infirmities would permit.
،،
There is an ungrateful hound for you," said Doctor Lun-
din: "I cured him of the gout in his feet, and now he talks
THE ABBOT.
321
of the chargeableness of medicine, and makes the first use of
his restored legs to fly from his physician. His podagra hath
become a chiragra, as honest Martial hath it: the gout has got
into his fingers, and he cannot draw his purse. Old saying
and true:
Præmia cum poscit medicus, Sathan est.
We are angels when we come to cure, devils when we ask pay-
ment; but I will administer a purgation to his purse, I war-
rant him. There is his brother too, a sordid chuff.
So ho,
there! Saunders Darlet! you have been ill, I hear?"
66
Just got the turn, as I was thinking to send to your hon-
our, and I am brawly now again; it was nae great thing that
ailed me."
"Hark you, sirrah," said the doctor, "I trust you remember
you are owing to the laird four stones of barley-meal and a
bow of oats; and I would have you send no more such kain-
fowls as you sent last season, that looked as wretchedly as
patients just dismissed from a plague-hospital; and there is
hard money owing besides."
"I was thinking, sir," said the man, more Scotico, that is,
returning no direct answer on the subject on which he was
addressed, "my best way would be to come down to your
honour, and take your advice yet, in case my trouble should
come back."
""
"Do so then, knave," replied Lundin, "and remember what
Ecclesiasticus saith: 'Give place to the physician: let him
not go from thee, for thou hast need of him.'”
His exhortation was interrupted by an apparition which
seemed to strike the doctor with as much horror and surprise
as his own visage inflicted upon sundry of those persons whom
he had addressed.
4
The figure which produced this effect on the Esculapius of
the village was that of a tall old woman, who wore a high-
crowned hat and muffler. The first of these habiliments
added apparently to her stature, and the other served to con-
ceal the lower part of her face, and as the hat itself was
slouched, little could be seen besides two brown cheek-bones,
21
322
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
and the eyes of swarthy fire, that gleamed from under two
shaggy grey eyebrows. She was dressed in a long dark-
coloured robe of unusual fashion, bordered at the skirts and
on the stomacher with a sort of white trimming resembling
the Jewish phylacteries, on which were wrought the characters
of some unknown language. She held in her hand a walking-
staff of black ebony.
"By the soul of Celsus," said Doctor Luke Lundin, "it is
old Mother Nicneven herself; she hath come to beard me
within mine own bounds, and in the very execution of mine
office! 'Have at thy coat, old woman,' as the song says. Hob
Anster, let her presently be seized and committed to the tol-
booth; and if there are any zealous brethren here who would
give the hag her deserts, and duck her, as a witch, in the
loch, I pray let them in no way be hindered."
But the myrmidons of Doctor Lundin showed in this case
no alacrity to do his bidding. Hob Anster even ventured to
remonstrate in the name of himself and his brethren. "To be
sure he was to do his honour's bidding; and for a' that folk
said about the skill and witcheries of Mother Nicneven, he
would put his trust in God, and his hand on her collar, with-
out dreadour. But she was no common spae-wife, this Mother
Nicneven, like Jean Jopp that lived in the Brierie Baulk. She
had lords and lairds that would ruffle for her.
There was
Moncrieff of Tippermalloch, that was Popish, and the laird of
Carslogie, a kenn'd queensman, were in the fair, with wha
kenn'd how mony swords and bucklers at their back; and
they would be sure to make a break-out if the officers meddled
with the auld Popish witch-wife, who was sae weel friended;
mair especially as the laird's best men, such as were not in
the castle, were in Edinburgh with him, and he doubted his
honour the doctor would find ower few to make a good back-
ing if blades were bare."
The doctor listened unwillingly to this prudential counsel,
and was only comforted by the faithful promise of his sat-
ellite that "The old woman should," as he expressed it,
"be ta'en canny the next time she trespassed on the
bounds."
C
1
THE ABBOT.
323
"And in that event," said the doctor to his companion, "fire
and fagot shall be the best of her welcome."
This he spoke in hearing of the dame herself, who even
then, and in passing the doctor, shot towards him from under
her grey eyebrows a look of the most insulting and contempt-
uous superiority.
"This way," continued the physician-"this way," mar-
shalling his guest into his lodging; "take care you stumble
not over a retort, for it is hazardous for the ignorant to walk
in the ways of art.”
The page found all reason for the caution; for, besides
stuffed birds, and lizards, and bottled snakes, and bundles of
simples made up, and other parcels spread out to dry, and all
the confusion, not to mention the mingled and sickening
smells, incidental to a druggist's stock-in-trade, he had also
to avoid heaps of charcoal, crucibles, bolt-heads, stoves, and
the other furniture of a chemical laboratory.
Amongst his other philosophical qualities, Doctor Lundin
failed not to be a confused sloven, and his old housekeeper,
whose life, as she said, was spent in "redding him up," had
trotted off to the mart of gaiety with other and younger folks.
Much clattering and jangling therefore there was among jars,
and bottles, and phials, ere the doctor produced the salutiferous
potion which he recommended so strongly, and a search equally
long and noisy followed among broken cans and cracked pip-
kins ere he could bring forth a cup out of which to drink it.
Both matters being at length achieved, the doctor set the ex-
ample to his guest, by quaffing off a cup of the cordial, and
smacking his lips with approbation as it descended his gullet.
Roland, in turn, submitted to swallow the potion which his
host so earnestly recommended, but which he found so in-
sufferably bitter that he became eager to escape from the
laboratory in search of a draught of fair water to expel the
taste. In spite of his efforts, he was nevertheless detained by
the garrulity of his host, till he gave him some account of
Mother Nicneven.
S
"I care not to speak of her," said the doctor, "in the open
air, and among the throng of people: not for fright, like yon
324
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
cowardly dog, Anster, but because I would give no occasion
for a fray, having no leisure to look to stabs, lashes, and
broken bones. Men call the old hag a prophetess; I do scarce
believe she could foretell when a brood of chickens will chip
the shell. Men say she reads the heavens; my black bitch
knows as much of them when she sits baying the moon. Men
pretend the ancient wretch is a sorceress, a witch, and what
not; inter nos, I will never contradict a rumour which may
bring her to the stake which she so richly deserves, but nei-
ther will I believe that the tales of witches which they din into
our ears are aught but knavery, cozenage, and old women's
fables."
"In the name of Heaven, what is she then," said the page,
66 that you make such a stir about her?"
"She is one of those cursed old women," replied the doctor,
"who take currently and impudently upon themselves to act
as advisers and curers of the sick, on the strength of some
trash of herbs, some rhyme of spells, some julep or diet, drink
or cordial."
"Nay, go no farther," said the page; "if they brew cor-
dials, evil be their lot and all their partakers!"
"You say well, young man," said Doctor Lundin; "for
mine own part, I know no such pests to the commonwealth as
these old incarnate devils, who haunt the chambers of the
brain-sick patients, that are mad enough to suffer them to in-
terfere with, disturb, and let the regular progress of a learn‹
ed and artificial cure, with their syrups, and their juleps,
and diascordium, and mithridate, and my Lady What-shall-
call'um's powder, and worthy Dame Trashem's pill; and thus
make widows and orphans, and cheat the regular and well-
studied physician, in order to get the name of wise women
and skeely neighbours, and so forth. But no more on't.
Mother Nicneven' and I will meet one day, and she shall
know there is danger in dealing with the doctor.”
66
It is a true word, and many have found it," said the page;
"but, under your favour, I would fain walk abroad for a little
and see these sports."
""
See Note 20.
THE ABBOT.
325
"It is well moved," said the doctor, "and I too should be
showing myself abroad. Moreover, the play waits us, young
man; to-day, totus mundus agit histrionem." And they sal-
lied forth accordingly into the mirthful scene.
CHAPTER XXVII.
See on yon verdant lawn, the gathering crowd
Thickens amain; the buxom nymphs advance,
Usher'd by jolly clowns; distinctions cease,
Lost in the common joy, and the bold slave
Leans on his wealthy master uureproved.
SOMERVILLE, Rural Sports.
THE reappearance of the dignified chamberlain on the street
of the village was eagerly hailed by the revellers, as a pledge
that the play, or dramatic representation, which had been
postponed owing to his absence, was now full surely to com-
mence. Anything like an approach to this most interesting
of all amusements was of recent origin in Scotland, and en-
gaged public attention in proportion. All other sports were
discontinued. The dance around the Maypole was arrested,
the ring broken up and dispersed, while the dancers, each
leading his partner by the hand, tripped off to the silvan
theatre. A truce was in like manner achieved betwixt a huge
brown bear and certain mastiffs, who were tugging and pulling
at his shaggy coat, under the mediation of the bear-ward and
half a dozen butchers and yeomen, who, by dint of "staving
and tailing,” as it was technically termed, separated the un-
fortunate animals, whose fury had for an hour past been their
chief amusement. The itinerant minstrel found himself de-
serted, by the audience he had collected, even in the most in-
teresting passage of the romance which he recited, and just as
he was sending about his boy, with bonnet in hand, to collect
their oblations. He indignantly stopped short in the midst
of Rosewal and Lilian, and, replacing his three-stringed fid-
dle, or rebeck, in its leathern case, followed the crowd, with
no good-will, to the exhibition which had superseded his own.
326
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
The juggler had ceased his exertions of emitting flame and
smoke, and was content to respire in the manner of ordi-
nary mortals rather than to play gratuitously the part of a
fiery dragon. In short, all other sports were suspended, so
eagerly did the revellers throng towards the place of repre-
sentation.
They would err greatly who should regulate their ideas of
this dramatic exhibition upon those derived from a modern
theatre; for the rude shows of Thespis were far less different
from those exhibited by Euripides on the stage of Athens, with
all its magnificent decorations and pomp of dresses and of
scenery.
In the present case there were no scenes, no stage,
no machinery, no pit, box, and gallery, no box-lobby; and,
what might in poor Scotland be some consolation for other
negations, there was no taking of money at the door. As in
the devices of the magnanimous Bottom, the actors had a
greensward plot for a stage, and a hawthorn bush for a green-
room and tiring-house; the spectators being accommodated
with seats on the artificial bank which had been raised around
three-fourths of the playground, the remainder being left open
for the entrance and exit of the performers. Here sate the
uncritical audience, the chamberlain in the centre, as the per-
son highest in office-all alive to enjoyment and admiration,
and all therefore dead to criticism.
The characters which appeared and disappeared before the
amused and interested audience were those which fill the ear-
lier stage in all nations-old men, cheated by their wives and
daughters, pillaged by their sons, and imposed on by their
domestics, a braggadocio captain, a knavish pardoner or quæs-
tionary, a country bumpkin, and a wanton city dame. Amid
all these, and more acceptable than almost the whole put to-
gether, was the all-licensed fool, the Gracioso of the Spanish
drama, who, with his cap fashioned into the resemblance of a
coxcomb, and his bauble, a truncheon terminated by a carved
figure, wearing a fool's cap, in his hand, went, came, and re-
turned, mingling in every scene of the piece, and interrupting
the business, without having any share himself in the action,
and ever and anon transferring his gibes from the actors on
THE ABBOT.
327
the stage to the audience who sate around, prompt to applaud
the whole.
The wit of the piece, which was not of the most polished
kind, was chiefly directed against the superstitious practices
of the Catholic religion; and the stage artillery had on this
occasion been levelled by no less a person than Doctor Lundin,
who had not only commanded the manager of the entertain-
ment to select one of the numerous satires which had been
written against the Papists (several of which were cast in a
dramatic form), but had even, like the Prince of Denmark,
caused them to insert, or, according to his own phrase, to in-
fuse, here and there, a few pleasantries of his own penning
on the same inexhaustible subject, hoping thereby to mollify
the rigour of the Lady of Lochleven towards pastimes of this
description. He failed not to jog Roland's elbow, who was
sitting in state behind him, and recommend to his particular
attention those favourite passages. As for the page, to whom
the very idea of such an exhibition, simple as it was, was en-
tirely new, he beheld it with the undiminished and ecstatic
delight with which men of all ranks look for the first time on
dramatic representation, and laughed, shouted, and clapped his
hands as the performance proceeded. An incident at length
took place which effectually broke off his interest in the busi-
ness of the scene.
One of the principal personages in the comic part of the
drama was, as we have already said, a quæstionary or par-
doner, one of those itinerants who hawked about from place
to place relics, real or pretended, with which he excited the
devotion at once and the charity of the populace, and gene-
rally deceived both the one and the other. The hypocrisy,
impudence, and profligacy of these clerical wanderers had
made them the subject of satire from the time of Chaucer
down to that of Heywood. Their present representative
failed not to follow the same line of humour, exhibiting
pig's bones for relics, and boasting the virtues of small tin
crosses, which had been shaken in the holy porringer at Lo-
retto, and of cockle-shells, which had been brought from the
shrine of St. James of Compostella, all which he disposed of
1
328
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
'
to the devout Catholics at nearly as high a price as antiquaries
are now willing to pay for baubles of similar intrinsic value.
At length the pardoner pulled from his scrip a phial of clear
water, of which he vaunted the quality in the following
verses:
"Listneth, gode people, everiche one,
For in the londe of Babylone,
Far eastward I wot it lyeth,
And is the first londe the sonne espieth,
Ther, as he cometh fro out the sé;
In this ilk londe, as thinketh me,
Right as holie legendes tell,
Snottreth from a roke a well,
And falleth into ane bath of ston,
Wher chast Susanne, in times long gon
Was wont to wash her bodie and lim.
Mickle vertue hath that streme,
As ye shall se er that ye pas,
Ensample by this little glas.
Through nightés cold and dayés hote
Hiderward I have it brought;
Hath a wife made slip or slide,
Or a maiden stepp'd aside,
Putteth this water under her nese,
Wold she nold she, she shall snese.'
19
..
The jest, as the reader skilful in the antique language of
the drama must at once perceive, turned on the same pivot as
in the old minstrel tales of the Drinking-Horn of King Arthur
and the Mantle made Amiss. But the audience were neither
learned nor critical enough to challenge its want of originality.
The potent relic was, after such grimace and buffoonery as
befitted the subject, presented successively to each of the fe-
male personages of the drama, not one of whom sustained the
supposed test of discretion; but, to the infinite delight of the
audience, sneezed much louder and longer than perhaps they
themselves had counted on. The jest seemed at last worn
threadbare, and the pardoner was passing on to some new
pleasantry, when the jester or clown of the drama, possessing
himself secretly of the phial which contained the wondrous
liquor, applied it suddenly to the nose of a young woman,
who, with her black silk muffler, or screen, drawn over her
face, was sitting in the foremost rank of the spectators, intent
apparently upon the business of the stage. The contents of

DEILD CARE
STAR
"The insulted maiden bestowed on the wag a buffet."
Abbot, Chap. xxvii., p. 329.
THE ABBOT.
329
the phial, well calculated to sustain the credit of the pardon-
er's legend, set the damsel a-sneezing violently, an admission
of frailty which was received with shouts of rapture by the
audience. These were soon, however, renewed at the expense
of the jester himself, when the insulted maiden extricated, ere
the paroxysm was well over, one hand from the folds of her
mantle, and bestowed on the wag a buffet, which made him
reel fully his own length from the pardoner, and then ac-
knowledge the favour by instant prostration.
No one pities a jester overcome in his vocation, and the
clown met with little sympathy when, rising from the ground
and whimpering forth his complaints of harsh treatment, he
invoked the assistance and sympathy of the audience. But
the chamberlain, feeling his own dignity insulted, ordered
two of his halberdiers to bring the culprit before him. When
these official persons first approached the virago, she threw
herself into an attitude of firm defiance, as if determined to
resist their authority; and from the sample of strength and
spirit which she had already displayed, they showed no alac-
rity at executing their commission. But on half a minute's
reflection, the damsel changed totally her attitude and man-
ner, folded her cloak around her arms in modest and maiden-
like fashion, and walked of her own accord to the presence
of the great man, followed and guarded by the two manful
satellites. As she moved across the vacant space, and more
especially as she stood at the footstool of the doctor's judg-
ment seat, the maiden discovered that lightness and elasticity
of step, and natural grace of manner, which connoisseurs in
female beauty know to be seldom divided from it. Moreover,
her neat russet-coloured jacket, and short petticoat of the same
colour, displayed a handsome form and a pretty leg. Her fea-
tures were concealed by the screen; but the doctor, whose
gravity did not prevent his pretensions to be a connoisseur of
the school we have hinted at, saw enough to judge favourably
of the piece by the sample.
He began, however, with considerable austerity of manner.
"And how now, saucy quean!" said the medical man of office,
"what have you to say why I should not order you to be
330
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ducked in the loch for lifting your hand to the man in my
presence?"
"Marry," replied the culprit, "because I judge that your
honour will not think the cold bath necessary for my com-
plaints.
22
"A pestilent jade," said the doctor, whispering to Roland
Græme, "and I'll warrant her a good one: her voice is as
sweet as syrup. But, my pretty maiden," said he, "you
show us wonderful little of that countenance of yours; be
pleased to throw aside your muffler."
"I trust your honour will excuse me till we are more pri-
vate," answered the maiden; "for I have acquaintance, and
I should like ill to be known in the country as the poor girl
whom that scurvy knave put his jest upon."
66
Fear nothing for thy good name, my sweet little modicum
of candied manna!" replied the doctor; "for I protest to you,
as I am chamberlain of Lochleven, Kinross, and so forth, that
the chaste Susanna herself could not have snuffed that elixir
without sternutation, being in truth a curious distillation of
rectified acetum, or vinegar of the sun, prepared by mine own
hands. Wherefore, as thou sayest thou wilt come to me in
private, and express thy contrition for the offence whereof
thou hast been guilty, I command that all for the present go
forward as if no such interruption of the prescribed course
had taken place.
22
The damsel courtesied and tripped back to her place. The
play proceeded, but it no longer attracted the attention of
Roland Græme.
The voice, the figure, and what the veil permitted to be seen
of the neck and tresses, of the village damsel bore so strong a
resemblance to those of Catherine Seyton, that he felt like one
bewildered in the mazes of a changeful and stupifying dream.
The memorable scene of the hostelry rushed on his recollection,
with all its doubtful and marvellous circumstances. Were the
tales of enchantment which he had read in romances realised
in this extraordinary girl? Could she transport herself from
the walled and guarded Castle of Lochleven, moated with its
broad lake (towards which he cast back a look as if to ascer
:
THE ABBOT.
331
tain it was still in existence), and watched with such scrupu-
lous care as the safety of a nation demanded? Could she sur-
mount all these obstacles, and make such careless and dangerous
use of her liberty as to engage herself publicly in a quarrel in
a village fair? Roland was unable to determine whether the
exertions which it must have cost her to gain her freedom or
the use to which she had put it rendered her the most unac-
countable creature.
-
Lost in these meditations, he kept his gaze fixed on the
subject of them; and in every casual motion discovered, or
thought he discovered, something which reminded him still
more strongly of Catherine Seyton. It occurred to him more
than once, indeed, that he might be deceiving himself by ex-
aggerating some casual likeness into absolute identity. But
then the meeting at the hostelry of St. Michael's returned to
his mind, and it seemed in the highest degree improbable that,
under such various circumstances, mere imagination should
twice have found opportunity to play him the self-same trick.
This time, however, he determined to have his doubts re-
solved, and for this purpose he sate during the rest of the
play like a greyhound in the slip, ready to spring upon the
hare the instant that she was started. The damsel, whom hẹ
watched attentively lest she should escape in the crowd when
the spectacle was closed, sate as if perfectly unconscious that
she was observed. But the worthy doctor marked the direc-
tion of his eyes, and magnanimously suppressed his own in-
clination to become the Theseus to this Hippolyta, in defer-
ence to the rights of hospitality, which enjoined him to
forbear interference with the pleasurable pursuits of his
young friend. He passed one or two formal gibes upon the
fixed attention which the page paid to the unknown, and upon
his own jealousy; adding, however, that if both were to be
presented to the patient at once, he had little doubt she would
think the younger man the sounder prescription. "I fear
me," he added, we shall have no news of the knave Auchter-
muchty for some time, since the vermin whom I sent after
him seem to have proved corbie-messengers. So you have an
hour or two on your hands, Master Page; and as the minstrels
66
332
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
are beginning to strike up, now that the play is ended, why,
an you incline for a dance, yonder is the green, and there sits
your partner. I trust you will hold me perfect in my diagnos-
tics, since I see with half an eye what disease you are sick of,
and have administered a pleasing remedy.
Discernit sapiens res (as Chambers hath it) quas confundit asellus."
The page hardly heard the end of the learned adage, or the
charge which the chamberlain gave him to be within reach, in
case of the wains arriving suddenly, and sooner than expected,
so eager was he at once to shake himself free of his learned
associate and to satisfy his curiosity regarding the unknown
damsel. Yet, in the haste with which he made towards her,
he found time to reflect that, in order to secure an opportunity
of conversing with her in private, he must not alarm her at
first accosting her. He therefore composed his manner and
gait, and advancing with becoming self-confidence before three
or four country-fellows who were intent on the same design,
but knew not so well how to put their request into shape, he
acquainted her that he, as the deputy of the venerable cham-
berlain, requested the honour of her hand as a partner.
"The venerable chamberlain," said the damsel, frankly,
reaching the page her hand, "does very well to exercise this
part of his privilege by deputy; and I suppose the laws of
the revels leave me no choice but to accept of his faithful
delegate."
"Provided, fair damsel," said the page, "his choice of a
delegate is not altogether distasteful to you."
"Of that, fair sir," replied the maiden, "I will tell you
more when we have danced the first measure."
Catherine Seyton had admirable skill in gestic lore, and was
sometimes called on to dance for the amusement of her royal
mistress. Roland Græme had often been a spectator of her
skill, and sometimes, at the Queen's command, Catherine's.
partner on such occasions. He was, therefore, perfectly ac-
quainted with Catherine's mode of dancing; and observed that
his present partner, in grace, in agility, in quickness of ear, and
precision of execution, exactly resembled her, save that the
THE ABBOT.
333
Scottish jig which he now danced with her required a more
violent and rapid motion, and more rustic agility, than the
stately pavens, lavoltas, and courantoes which he had seen her
execute in the chamber of Queen Mary. The active duties of
the dance left him little time for reflection, and none for con-
versation; but when their pas de deux was finished, amidst
the acclamations of the villagers, who had seldom witnessed
such an exhibition, he took an opportunity, when they yielded
up the green to another couple, to use the privilege of a part-
ner, and enter into conversation with the mysterious maiden
whom he still held by the hand.
"Fair partner, may I not crave the name of her who has
graced me thus far?"
"You may," said the maiden; "but it is a question whether
I shall answer you."
"And why?” asked Roland.
"Because nobody gives anything for nothing, and you can
tell me nothing in return which I care to hear."
"Could I not tell you my name and lineage, in exchange for
yours?" returned Roland.
"No!" answered the maiden, "for you know little of
either."
"How?" said the page, somewhat angrily.
“Wrath you not for the matter," said the damsel; "I will
show you in an instant that I know more of you than you do
of yourself."
"Indeed!" answered Græme; "for whom then do you take
me?"
"For the wild falcon," answered she, "whom a dog brought
in his mouth to a certain castle, when he was but an unfledged
eyas; for the hawk whom men dare not let fly, lest he should
check at game and pounce on carrion; whom folk must keep
hooded till he has the proper light of his eyes, and can dis-
cover good from evil.
22
"Well--be it so," replied Roland Græme; "I guess at a
part of your parable, fair mistress mine; and perhaps I know
as much of you as you do of me, and can well dispense with
the information which you are so niggard in giving."
334
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Prove that," said the maiden, "and I will give you credit
for more penetration than I judged you to be gifted withal."
"It shall be proved instantly," said Roland Græme.
"The
first letter of your name is S and the last N."
"Admirable!" said his partner; "guess on."
"It pleases you to-day," continued Roland, "to wear the
snood and kirtle, and perhaps you may be seen to-morrow in
hat and feather, hose and doublet."
"In the clout!-in the clout! you have hit the very white,"
said the damsel, suppressing a great inclination to laugh.
"You can switch men's eyes out of their heads, as well as
the hearts out of their bosoms."
These last words were uttered in a low and tender tone,
which, to Roland's great mortification, and somewhat to his
displeasure, was so far from allaying, that it greatly increased,
his partner's disposition to laughter. She could scarce com-
pose herself while she replied: "If you had thought my hand
so formidable," extricating it from his hold, "you would not
have grasped it so hard; but I perceive you know me so fully
that there is no occasion to show you my face."
"Fair Catherine," said the page, "he were unworthy ever
to have seen you, far less to have dwelt so long in the same
service, and under the same roof with you, who could mistake
your air, your gesture, your step in walking or in dancing, the
turn of your neck, the symmetry of your form: none could be
so dull as not to recognise you by so many proofs; but for
me, I could swear even to that tress of hair that escapes from
under your muffler.”
"And to the face, of course, which that muffler covers,
said the maiden, removing her veil, and in an instant endeav-
ouring to replace it. She showed the features of Catherine;
but an unusual degree of petulant impatience inflamed them
when, from some awkwardness in her management of the
muffler, she was unable again to adjust it with that dexterity
which was a principal accomplishment of the coquettes of
the time.
ور
"The fiend rive the rag to tatters!" said the damsel, as the
veil fluttered about her shoulders, with an accent so earnest
THE ABBOT.
335
and decided that it made the page start. He looked again at
the damsel's face, but the information which his eyes received
was to the same purport as before. He assisted her to adjust
her muffler, and both were for an instant silent. The damsel
spoke first, for Roland Græme was overwhelmed with surprise
at the contrarieties which Catherine Seyton seemed to include
in her person and character.
"You are surprised," said the damsel to him, "at what you
see and hear. But the times which make females men are
least of all fitted for men to become women; yet you yourself
are in danger of such a change."
"I in danger of becoming effeminate!" said the page.
"Yes, you, for all the boldness of your reply," said the
damsel. "When you should hold fast your religion, because
it is assailed on all sides by rebels, traitors, and heretics, you
let it glide out of your breast like water grasped in the hand.
If you are driven from the faith of your fathers from fear of
a traitor, is not that womanish? If you are cajoled by the
cunning arguments of a trumpeter of heresy, or the praises
of a Puritanic old woman, is not that womanish? If you are
bribed by the hope of spoil and preferment, is not that wom-
anish? And when you wonder at my venting a threat or
an execration, should you not wonder at yourself, who, pre-
tending to a gentle name, and aspiring to knighthood, can be
at the same time cowardly, silly, and self-interested?"
"I would that a man would bring such a charge?" said the
page; "he should see, ere his life was a minute older, whether
he had cause to term me coward or no.'
""
"Beware of such big words," answered the maiden; "you
said but anon that I sometimes wear hose and doublet."
“But remain still Catherine Seyton, wear what you list,"
said the page, endeavouring again to possess himself of her
hand.
"You indeed are pleased to call me so," replied the maiden,
evading his intention, "but I have many other names be-
sides."
"And will you not reply to that," said the page, "by which
you are distinguished beyond every other maiden in Scotland?"
335
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
}
The damsel, unallured by his praises, still kept aloof, and
sung with gaiety a verse from an old ballad:
"Oh some do call me Jack, sweet love,
And some do call me Gill;
But when I ride to Holyrood,
My name is Wilful Will."
"Wilful Will!" exclaimed the page, impatiently; "say
rather Will o' the Wisp-Jack with the Lantern, for never
was such a deceitful or wandering meteor!"
"If I be such," replied the maiden, "I ask no fools to follow
If they do so, it is at their own pleasure, and must be
on their own proper peril."
me.
Nay, but, dearest Catherine," said Roland Græme, "be
for one instant serious."
""
"If you will call me your dearest Catherine, when I have
given you so many names to choose upon," replied the damsel,
"I would ask you how, supposing me for two or three hours
of my life escaped from yonder tower, you have the cruelty
to ask me to be serious during the only merry moments I have
seen perhaps for months?”
"Ay, but, fair Catherine, there are moments of deep and
true feeling which are worth ten thousand years of the liveli-
est mirth; and such was that of yesterday, when you so
nearly
"So nearly what?" demanded the damsel, hastily.
"When you approached your lips so near to the sign you
had traced on my forehead."
"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed she, in a yet fiercer tone,
and with a more masculine manner than she had yet exhibited.
"Catherine Seyton approach her lips to a man's brow, and thou
that man! Vassal, thou liest!"
The page stood astonished; but, conceiving he had alarmed
the damsel's delicacy by alluding to the enthusiasm of a mo-
ment, and the manner in which she had expressed it, he en-
deavoured to falter forth an apology. His excuses, though he
was unable to give them any regular shape, were accepted by
his companion, who had indeed suppressed her indignation
after its first explosion. Speak no more on't," she said.
((
THE ABBOT.
337
3
"And now let us part; our conversation may attract more
notice than is convenient for either of
us.
"Nay, but allow me at least to follow you to some seques-
tered place."
"You dare not," replied the maiden.
66 How," said the youth, "dare not? where is it you dare
go, where I dare not follow?”
"You fear a will o' the wisp," said the damsel; "how would
you face a fiery dragon, with an enchantress mounted on its
back?"
""
"Like Sir Eger, Sir Grime, or Sir Greysteil," said the page;
"but be there such toys to be seen here?"
"I go to Mother Nicneven's," answered the maid; "and she
is witch enough to rein the horned devil, with a red silk thread
for a bridle, and a rowan-tree switch for a whip.”
"I will follow you," said the page.
"Let it be at some distance," said the maiden.
And wrapping her mantle round her with more success than
on her former attempt, she mingled with the throng, and
walked towards the village, heedfully followed by Roland
Græme at some distance, and under every precaution which
he could use to prevent his purpose from being observed,
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Yes, it is she whose eyes look'd on thy childhood,
And watch'd with trembling hope thy dawn of youth,
That now, with these same eyeballs dimm'd with age,
And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonour.
Old Play.
Ar the entrance of the principal, or indeed, so to speak, the
only, street in Kinross, the damsel whose steps were pursued
by Roland Græme cast a glance behind her, as if to be cer-
tain he had not lost trace of her, and then plunged down a
very narrow lane which ran betwixt two rows of poor and
ruinous cottages. She paused for a second at the door of one
of those miserable tenements, again cast her eye up the lane
22
338
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
towards Roland, then lifted the latch, opened the door, and
disappeared from his view.
With whatever haste the page followed her example, the
difficulty which he found in discovering the trick of the latch,
which did not work quite ir the usual manner, and in pushing
open the door, which did not yield to his first effort, delayed
for a minute or two his entrance into the cottage. A dark
and smoky passage led, as usual, betwixt the exterior wall of
the house and the "hallan," or clay wall, which served as a
partition betwixt it and the interior. At the end of this pas-
sage, and through the partition, was a door leading into the
"ben," or inner chamber of the cottage, and when Roland
Græme's hand was upon the latch of this door, a female voice
pronounced: "Benedictus qui veniat in nomine Domini, dam-
nandus qui in nomine inimici." On entering the apartment,
he perceived the figure which the chamberlain had pointed
out to him as Mother Nicneven, seated beside the lowly hearth.
But there was no other person in the room. Roland Græme
gazed around in surprise at the disappearance of Catherine
Seyton, without paying much regard to the supposed sor-
ceress, until she attracted and riveted his regard by the tone
in which she asked him: "What seekest thou here?"
“I seek,” said the page, with much embarrassment—“I
seek-
""
But his answer was cut short when the old woman, drawing
her huge grey eyebrows sternly together, with a frown which
knitted her brow into a thousand wrinkles, arose, and erecting
herself up to her full natural size, tore the kerchief from her
head, and seizing Roland by the arm, made two strides across
the floor of the apartment to a small window through which
the light fell full on her face, and showed the astonished
youth the countenance of Magdalen Græme. "Yes, Roland,"
she said, “thine eyes deceive thee not: they show thee truly
the features of her whom thou hast thyself deceived, whose
wine thou hast turned into gall, her bread of joyfulness into
bitter poison, her hope into the blackest despair. It is she
who now demands of thee, what seekest thou here?—she whose
heaviest sin towards Heaven hath been, that she loved thee
THE ABBOT.
339
even better than the weal of the whole church, and could not
without reluctance surrender thee even in the cause of God-
she now asks you, what seekest thou here?"
While she spoke she kept her broad black eye riveted on the
youth's face, with the expression with which the eagle re-
gards his prey ere he tears it to pieces. Roland felt himself
at the moment incapable either of reply or evasion. This ex-
traordinary enthusiast had preserved over him in some meas-
ure the ascendency which she had acquired during his child-
hood; and, besides, he knew the violence of her passions and
her impatience of contradiction, and was sensible that almost
any reply which he could make was likely to throw her into
an ecstasy of rage. He was therefore silent; and Magdalen
Græme proceeded with increasing enthusiasm in her apos-
trophe: "Once more, what seek'st thou, false boy?-seek'st
thou the honour thou hast renounced, the faith thou hast aban-
doned, the hopes thou hast destroyed? Or didst thou seek me,
the sole protectress of thy youth, the only parent whom thou
hast known, that thou mayst trample on my grey hairs, even as
thou hast already trampled on the best wishes of my heart?"
"Pardon me, mother," said Roland Græme; "but, in truth
and reason, I deserve not your blame. I have been treated
amongst you-even by yourself, my revered parent, as well
as by others as one who lacked the common attributes of
free will and human reason, or was at least deemed unfit to
exercise them. A land of enchantment have I been led into,
and spells have been cast around me—every one has met me
in disguise-every one has spoken to me in parables-I have
been like one who walks in a weary and bewildering dream;
and now you blame me that I have not the sense, and judg-
ment, and steadiness of a waking, and a disenchanted, and a
reasonable man, who knows what he is doing, and wherefore
he does it! If one must walk with masks and spectres, who
waft themselves from place to place as it were in vision rather
than reality, it might shake the soundest faith and turn the
wisest head. I sought, since I must needs avow my folly, the
same Catherine Seyton with whom you made me first ac-
quainted, and whom I most strangely find in this village of
340
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Kinross, gayest among the revellers, when I had but just left
her in the well-guarded Castle of Lochleven, the sad attend-
ant of an imprisoned Queen. I sought her, and in her place
I find you, my mother, more strangely disguised than even
she is."
"And what hadst thou to do with Catherine Seyton?" said
the matron, sternly; "is this a time or a world to follow
maidens, or to dance around a Maypole? When the trumpet
summons every true-hearted Scotsman around the standard of
the true sovereign, shalt thou be found loitering in a lady's
bower?"
"No, by Heaven, nor imprisoned in the rugged walls of an
island castle!" answered Roland Græme. "I would the blast
were to sound even now, for I fear that nothing less loud will
dispel the chimerical visions by which I am surrounded."
"Doubt not that it will be winded," said the matron, "and
that so fearfully loud, that Scotland will never hear the like
until the last and loudest blast of all shall announce to mountain
and to valley that time is no more. Meanwhile, be thou but
brave and constant. Serve God, and honour thy sovereign.
Abide by thy religion. I cannot-I will not-I dare not ask
thee the truth of the terrible surmises I have heard touching
thy falling away-perfect not that accursed sacrifice; and
yet, even at this late hour, thou mayst be what I have hoped
for, the son of my dearest hope. What say I? The son of my
hope? Thou shalt be the hope of Scotland, her boast and
her honour! Even thy wildest and most foolish wishes may
perchance be fulfilled. I might blush to mingle meaner mo-
tives with the noble guerdon I hold out to thee. It shames
me, being such as I am, to mention the idle passions of youth,
save with contempt and the purpose of censure. But we must
bribe children to wholesome medicine by the offer of cates,
and youth to honourable achievement with the promise of
pleasure. Mark me, therefore, Roland. The love of Cather-
ine Seyton will follow him only who shall achieve the freedom
of her mistress; and believe, it may be one day in thine own
power to be that happy lover. Cast, therefore, away doubt
and fear, and prepare to do what religion calls for, what thy
THE ABBOT.
341
country demands of thee, what thy duty as a subject and as a
servant alike require at your hand; and be assured, even the
idlest or wildest wishes of thy heart will be most readily at-
tained by following the call of thy duty."
As she ceased speaking a double knock was heard against
the inner door. The matron, hastily adjusting her muffler
and resuming her chair by the hearth, demanded who was
there.
"Salve in nomine sancto," was answered from without.
Salvete et vos," answered Magdalen Græme.
And a man entered in the ordinary dress of a nobleman's
retainer, wearing at his girdle a sword and buckler. "I
sought you," said he, "my mother, and him whom I see with
you." Then addressing himself to Roland Græme, he said
to him: "Hast thou not a packet from George Douglas?"
“I have,” said the page, suddenly recollecting that which
had been committed to his charge in the morning, "but I may
not deliver it to any one without some token that they have a
right to ask it.”
"You say well," replied the serving-man, and whispered
into his ear: "The packet which I ask is the report to his
father, will this token suffice?"
"It will,” replied the page, and taking the packet from his
bosom, gave it to the man.
“I will return presently," said the serving-man, and left
the cottage.
ous.
Roland had now sufficiently recovered his surprise to accost
his relative in turn, and request to know the reason why he
found her in so precarious a disguise, and a place so danger-
"You cannot be ignorant," he said, "of the hatred that
the Lady of Lochleven bears to those of your-that is of our
religion; your present disguise lays you open to suspicions of
a different kind but inferring no less hazard; and whether as
a Catholic, or as a sorceress, or as a friend to the unfortunate
Queen, you are in equal danger, if apprehended within the
bounds of the Douglas; and in the chamberlain who adminis-
ters their authority you have, for his own reasons, an enemy,
and a bitter one."
1
342
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"I know it," said the matron, her eyes kindling with tri
umph; “I know that, vain of his schoolcraft and carnal wis-
dom, Luke Lundin views with jealousy and hatred the bless-
ings which the saints have conferred on my prayers, and on
the holy relics, before the touch, nay, before the bare pres-
ence, of which disease and death have so often been known
to retreat. I know he would rend and tear me; but there is a
chain and a muzzle on the ban-dog that shall restrain his fury,
and the Master's servant shall not be offended by him until
the Master's work is wrought. When that hour comes, let
the shadows of the evening descend on me in thunder and in
tempest: the time shall be welcome that relieves my eyes
from seeing guilt, and my ears from listening to blasphemy.
Do thou but be constant; play thy part as I have played and
will play mine; and my release shall be like that of a blessed
martyr whose ascent to Heaven angels hail with psalm and
song, while earth pursues him with hiss and with execra-
tion."
As she concluded, the serving-man again entered the cot-
tage, and said: "All is well! the time holds for to-morrow
night."
"What time? what holds?" exclaimed Roland Græme. "I
trust I have given the Douglas's packet to no wrong-
"Content yourself, young man," answered the serving-man;
"thou hast my word and token."
"and I
"I know not if the token be right," said the page;
care not much for the word of a stranger.'
66
What," said the matron, "although thou mayst have
given a packet delivered to thy charge by one of the Queen's
rebels into the hand of a loyal subject-there were no great
mistake in that, thou hot-brained boy!"
رو
¿
""
"By St. Andrew, there were foul mistake, though,” an-
swered the page; "it is the very spirit of my duty, in this first
stage of chivalry, to be faithful to my trust; and had the devil
given me a message to discharge, I would not so I had
plighted my faith to the contrary-betray his counsel to an
angel of light."
"Now, by the love I once bore thee," said the matron, "I
B
THE ABBOT.
343
t
could slay thee with mine own hand, when I hear thee talk of
a dearer faith being due to rebels and heretics than thou owest
to thy church and thy prince!"
"Be patient, my good sister," said the serving-man; "I will
give him such reasons as shall counterbalance the scruples
which beset him: the spirit is honourable, though now it may
be mistimed and misplaced. Follow me, young man."
"Ere I go to call this stranger to a reckoning," said the
page to the matron, "is there nothing I can do for your com-
fort and safety?”
"Nothing," she replied "nothing, save what will lead
more to thy own honour: the saints who have protected me
thus far will lend me succour as I need it. Tread the path
of glory that is before thee, and only think of me as the crea-
ture on earth who will be most delighted to hear of thy fame.
Follow the stranger; he hath tidings for you that you little
expect."
The stranger remained on the threshold as if waiting for
Roland, and as soon as he saw him put himself in motion he
moved on before at a quick pace. Diving still deeper down
the lane, Roland perceived that it was now bordered by build-
ings upon the one side only, and that the other was fenced
by a high old wall, over which some trees extended their
branches. Descending a good way farther, they came to a
small door in the wall. Roland's guide paused, looked around
for an instant to see if any one were within sight, then taking
a key from his pocket, opened the door and entered, making
a sign to Roland Græme to follow him. He did so, and the
stranger locked the door carefully on the inside. During this
operation the page had a moment to look around, and per-
ceived that he was in a small orchard very trimly kept.
The stranger led him through an alley or two, shaded by
trees loaded with summer-fruit, into a pleached arbour, where,
taking the turf-seat which was on the one side, he motioned
to Roland to occupy that which was opposite to him, and,
after a momentary silence, opened the conversation as fol-
lows: "You have asked a better warrant than the word of a
mere stranger to satisfy you that I have the authority of
-
344
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
}
George of Douglas for possessing myself of the packet ex-
trusted to your charge?"
"It is precisely the point on which I demand reckoning of
you," said Roland. "I fear I have acted hastily; if So, I
must redeem my error as I best may.
""
"You hold me then as a perfect stranger?" said the man.
"Look at my face more attentively, and see if the features
do not resemble those of a man much known to you formerly."
Roland gazed attentively; but the ideas recalled to his
mind were so inconsistent with the mean and servile dress of
the person before him that he did not venture to express the
opinion which he was irresistibly induced to form.
،،
'Yes, my son," said the stranger, observing his embar-
rassment, "you do indeed see before you the unfortunate Fa-
ther Ambrosius, who once accounted his ministry crowned in
your preservation from the snares of heresy, but who is now
condemned to lament thee as a castaway!"
Roland Græme's kindness of heart was at least equal to his
vivacity of temper: he could not bear to see his ancient and
honoured master and spiritual guide in a situation which in-
ferred a change of fortune so melancholy, but, throwing him-
self at his feet, grasped his knees and wept aloud.
"What mean these tears, my son?" said the abbot; "if
they are shed for your own sins and follies, surely they are
gracious showers, and may avail thee much; but weep not, if
they fall on my account. You indeed see the superior of the
community of St. Mary's in the dress of a poor sworder, who
gives his master the use of his blade and buckler, and, if
needful, of his life, for a coarse livery coat, and four marks
by the year.
But such a garb suits the time, and, in the
period of the church militant, as well becomes her prelates as
staff, mitre, and crosier in the days of the church's triumph."
"By what fate," said the page-" and yet why," added he,
checking himself, "need I ask? Catherine Seyton in some
sort prepared me for this. But that the change should be so
absolute, the destruction so complete!"
"Yes, my son," said the Abbot Ambrosius, "thine own eyes
beheld, in my unworthy elevation to the abbot's stall, the last
THE ABBOT.
345
especial act of holy solemnity which shall be seen in the
church of St. Mary's, until it shall please Heaven to turn
back the captivity of the church. For the present, the shep-
herd is smitten-ay, wellnigh to the earth, the flocks are
scattered, and the shrines of saints and martyrs, and pious
benefactors to the church, are given to the owls of night and
the satyrs of the desert."
"And your brother, the Knight of Avenel-could he do
nothing for your protection?"
"He himself hath fallen under the suspicion of the ruling
powers," said the abbot, "who are as unjust to their friends
as they are cruel to their enemies. I could not grieve at it,
did I hope it might estrange him from his course; but I know
the soul of Halbert, and I rather fear it will drive him to
prove his fidelity to their unhappy cause by some deed which
may be yet more destructive to the church, and more offensive
to Heaven. Enough of this; and now to the business of our
meeting. I trust you will hold it sufficient if I pass my word
to you, that the packet of which you were lately the bearer
was designed for my hands by George of Douglas?"
66
Then," said the page, "is George of Douglas-
"A true friend to his Queen, Roland; and will soon, I
trust, have his eyes opened to the errors of his miscalled-
church."
""
"But what is he to his father, and what to the Lady of
Lochleven, who has been as a mother to him?" said the page,
impatiently.
"The best friend to both, in time and through eternity,
said the abbot, "if he shall prove the happy instrument for
redeeming the evil they have wrought, and are still work-
ing."
66
""
Still," said the page, "I like not that good service which
begins in breach of trust."
"I blame not thy scruples, my son," said the abbot; "but
the time which has wrenched asunder the allegiance of Chris-
tians to the church, and of subjects to their king, has dis-
solved all the lesser bonds of society; and, in such days, mere
human ties must no more restrain our progress than the bram-
346
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
bles and briars, which catch hold of his garments, should de-
lay the path of a pilgrim who travels to pay his vows."
"But, my father" said the youth, and then stopt short
in a hesitating manner.
-
"Speak on, my son," said the abbot-"speak without fear."
"Let me not offend you, then," said Roland, "when I an-
swer, that it is even this which our adversaries charge against
us, when they say that, shaping the means according to the
end, we are willing to commit great moral evil in order that
we may work out eventual good."
66
G
The heretics have played their usual arts on you, my
son," said the abbot; "they would willingly deprive us of the
power of acting wisely and secretly, though their possession
of superior force forbids our contending with them on the
terms of equality. They have reduced us to a state of ex-
hausted weakness, and now would fain proscribe the means by
which weakness, through all the range of nature, supplies the
lack of strength, and defends itself against its potent enemies.
As well might the hound say to the hare, 'Use not these wily
turns to escape me, but contend with me in pitched battle,'
as the armed and powerful heretic demand of the down-trod-
den and oppressed Catholic to lay aside the wisdom of the
serpent, by which alone they may again hope to raise up the
Jerusalem over which they weep, and which it is their duty
to rebuild. But more of this hereafter. And now, my son,
I command thee on thy faith to tell me truly and particularly
what has chanced to thee since we parted, and what is the
present state of thy conscience. Thy relation, our sister Mag-
dalen, is a woman of excellent gifts, blessed with a zeal which
neither doubt nor danger can quench; but yet it is not a zeal
altogether according to knowledge; wherefore, my son, I would
willingly be myself thy interrogator and thy counsellor in
these days of darkness and stratagem."
•
With the respect which he owned to his first instructor,
Roland Græme went rapidly through the events which the
reader is acquainted with; and while he disguised not from
the prelate the impression which had been made on his mind
by the arguments of the preacher Henderson, he accidentally,
THE ABBOT.
347
and almost involuntarily, gave his father confessor to un-
derstand the influence which Catherine Seyton had acquired
over him.
"It is with joy I discover, my dearest son," replied the ab-
bot, "that I have arrived in time to arrest thee on the verge
of the precipice to which thou wert approaching. These
doubts of which you complain are the weeds which naturally
grow up in a strong soil, and require the careful hand of the
husbandman to eradicate them. Thou must study a little
volume, which I will impart to thee in fitting time, in which,
by Our Lady's grace, I have placed in somewhat a clearer
light than heretofore the points debated betwixt us and these
heretics, who sow among the wheat the same tares which were
formerly privily mingled with the good seed by the Albigenses
and the Lollards. But it is not by reason alone that you must
hope to conquer these insinuations of the enemy. It is some-
times by timely resistance, but oftener by timely flight. You
must shut your ears against the arguments of the heresiarch,
when circumstances permit you not to withdraw the foot from
his company. Anchor your thoughts upon the service of Our
Lady, while he is expending in vain his heretical sophistry.
Are you unable to maintain your attention on Heavenly objects,
think rather on thine own earthly pleasures than tempt Provi-
dence and the saints by giving an attentive ear to the erring doc-
trine: think of thy hawk, thy hound, thine angling-rod, thy
sword and buckler-think even of Catherine Seyton, rather
than give thy soul to the lessons of the tempter. Alas! my
son, believe not that, worn out with woes, and bent more by
affliction than by years, I have forgotten the effect of beauty
over the heart of youth. Even in the watches of the night,
broken by thoughts of an imprisoned queen, a distracted king-
dom, a church laid waste and ruinous, come other thoughts
than these suggest, and feelings which belonged to an earlier
and happier course of life. Be it so we must bear our load
as we may; and not in vain are these passions implanted in
our breasts, since, as now in thy case, they may come in aid
of resolutions founded upon higher grounds. Yet beware, my
son-this Catherine Seyton is the daughter of one of Scot
348
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
land's proudest, as well as most worthy barons; and thy state
may not suffer thee, as yet, to aspire so high. But thus it
is-Heaven works its purposes through human folly; and
Douglas's ambitious affection as well as thine shall contribute
alike to the desired end."
"How, my father," said the page, "my suspicions are then
true! Douglas loves"
"He does; and with a love as much misplaced as thine
own; but beware of him-cross him not-thwart him not."
"Let him not cross or thwart me," said the page; "for I
will not yield him an inch of way, had he in his body the
soul of every Douglas that has lived since the time of the
Dark Grey Man.” ¹
66
Nay, have patience, idle boy, and reflect that your suit
can never interfere with his. But a truce with these vani-
ties, and let us better employ the little space which still re-
mains to us to spend together. To thy knees, my son, and
resume the long-interrupted duty of confession, that, happen
what may, the hour may find in thee a faithful Catholic, re-
lieved from the guilt of his sins by authority of the Holy
Church. Could I but tell thee, Roland, the joy with which I
see thee once more put thy knee to its best and fittest use!
Quid dicis, mi fili? ”
"Culpas meas," answered the youth; and, according to the
ritual of the Catholic Church, he confessed and received ab-
solution, to which was annexed the condition of performing
certain enjoined penances.
When this religious ceremony was ended, an old man, in
the dress of a peasant of the better order, approached the ar-
bour and greeted the abbot. "I have waited the conclusion
of your devotions," he said, "to tell you the youth is sought
after by the chamberlain, and it were well he should appear
without delay. Holy St. Francis, if the halberdiers were to
seek him here, they might sorely wrong my garden-plot: they
are in office, and reck not where they tread, were each step on
jessamine and clove-gillyflowers."
"We will speed him forth, my brother," said the abbot;
1 See Note 21.
:
THE ABBOT.
349
·
"but, alas! is it possible that such trifles should live in your
mind at a crisis so awful as that which is now impending?”
"Reverend father," answered the proprietor of the garden,
for such he was, "how oft shall I pray you to keep your high
counsel for high minds like your own? What have you re-
quired of me, that I have not granted unresistingly, though
with an aching heart?"
"I would require of you to be yourself, my brother," said
the Abbot Ambrosius: "to remember what you were, and to
what your early vows have bound you.
""
"I tell thee, Father Ambrosius," replied the gardener, "the
patience of the best saint that ever said paternoster would be
exhausted by the trials to which you have put mine. What
I have been, it skills not to speak at present: no one knows
better than yourself, father, what I renounced, in hopes to
find ease and quiet during the remainder of my days; and no
one better knows how my retreat has been invaded, my fruit-
trees broken, my flower-beds trodden down, my quiet fright-
ened away, and my very sleep driven from my bed, since ever
this poor Queen, God bless her! hath been sent to Lochleven.
I blame her not: being a prisoner, it is natural she should
wish to get out from so vile a hold, where there is scarcely
any place even for a tolerable garden, and where the water-
mists, as I am told, blight all the early blossoms-I say, I can-
not blame her for endeavouring for her freedom; but why I
should be drawn into the scheme; why my harmless arbours,
that I planted with my own hands, should become places of
privy conspiracy; why my little quay, which I built for my
own fishing-boat, should have become a haven for secret em-
barkations; in short, why I should be dragged into matters
where both heading and hanging are like to be the issue, I
profess to you, reverend father, I am totally ignorant."
"My brother," answered the abbot, "you are wise, and
ought to know
“I am not—I am not-I am not wise," replied the horti-
culturist, pettishly, and stopping his ears with his fingers;
"I was never called wise, but when men wanted to engage me
in some action of notorious folly.”
""
350
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"But, my good brother," said the abbot-
"I am not good, neither," said the peevish gardener-"I
am neither good nor wise. Had I been wise, you would not
have been admitted here; and were I good, methinks I should
send you elsewhere to hatch plots for destroying the quiet of
the country. What signifies disputing about queen or king,
when men may sit at peace sub umbra vitis sui? And so would
I do, after the precept of Holy Writ, were I, as you term me,
wise or good. But such as I am, my neck is in the yoke, and
you make me draw what weight you list. Follow me, young-
ster. This reverend father, who makes in his jack-man's
dress nearly as reverend a figure as I myself, will agree with
me in one thing at least, and that is, that you have been long
enough here."
"Follow the good father, Roland," said the abbot, "and
remember my words-a day is approaching that will try the
temper of all true Scotsmen; may thy heart prove faithful as
the steel of thy blade!"
The page bowed in silence, and they parted; the gardener,
notwithstanding his advanced age, walking on before him very
briskly, and muttering as he went, partly to himself, partly
to his companion, after the manner of old men of weakened
intellects. "When I was great," thus ran his maundering,
"and had my mule and my ambling palfrey at command, I
warrant you I could have as well flown through the air as
have walked at this pace. I had my gout and
I had my gout and my rheumatics,
and an hundred things besides, that hung fetters on my heels;
and now, thanks to Our Lady and honest labour, I can walk
with any good man of my age in the kingdom of Fife. Fy
upon it, that experience should be so long in coming!"
As he was thus muttering, his eye fell upon the branch of
a pear-tree which drooped down for want of support, and at
once forgetting his haste, the old man stopped and set seri-
ously about binding it up. Roland Græme had both readi-
ness, neatness of hand, and good-nature in abundance: he
immediately lent his aid, and in a minute or two the bough
was supported, and tied up in a way perfectly satisfactory to
the old man, who looked at it with great complaisance. "They
THE ABBOT.
351
C
are bergamots," he said, "and if you will come ashore in au-
tumn, you shall taste of them; the like are not in Lochleven
Castle. The garden there is a poor pinfold, and the gardener,
Hugh Houkham, hath little skill of his craft; so come ashore,
Master Page, in autumn, when you would eat pears. But
what am I thinking of? ere that time come, they may have
given thee sour pears for plums. Take an old man's advice,
youth, one who hath seen many days, and sat in higher places
than thou canst hope for: bend thy sword into a pruning-hook,
and make a dibble of thy dagger-thy days shall be the longer,
and thy health the better for it--and come to aid me in my gar-
den, and I will teach thee the real French fashion of 'imping,'
which the Southron call graffing. Do this, and do it without
loss of time, for there is a whirlwind coming over the land,
and only those shall escape who lie too much beneath the
storm to have their boughs broken by it."
So saying, he dismissed Roland Græme through a different
door from that by which he had entered, signed a cross and
pronounced a benedicite as they parted, and then, still mutter-
ing to himself, retired into the garden, and locked the door on
the inside.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Pray God she prove not masculine ere long!
King Henry IV.
DISMISSED from the old man's garden, Roland Græme found
that a grassy paddock, in which sauntered two cows, the prop-
erty of the gardener, still separated him from the village. He
paced through it, lost in meditation upon the words of the ab-
bot. Father Ambrosius had, with success enough, exerted
over him that powerful influence which the guardians and
instructors of our childhood possess over our more mature
youth. And yet, when Roland looked back upon what the
father had said, he could not but suspect that he had rather
sought to evade entering into the controversy betwixt the
churches than to repel the objections and satisfy the doubts
352
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
which the lectures of Henderson had excited. "For this he
had no time," said the page to himself, "neither have I now
calmness and learning sufficient to judge upon points of such
magnitude. Besides, it were base to quit my faith while the
wind of fortune sets against it, unless I were so placed that
my conversion, should it take place, were free as light from
the imputation of self-interest. I was bred a Catholic-bred
in the faith of Bruce and Wallace-I will hold that faith till
time and reason shall convince me that it errs.
I will serve
this poor Queen as a subject should serve an imprisoned and
wronged sovereign. They who placed me in her service have
to blame themselves: they sent me hither, a gentleman trained
in the paths of loyalty and honour, when they should have
sought out some truckling, cogging, double-dealing knave,
who would have been at once the observant page of the Queen
and the obsequious spy of her enemies. Since I must choose
betwixt aiding and betraying her, I will decide as becomes her
servant and her subject; but Catherine Seyton-Catherine
Seyton, beloved by Douglas, and holding me on or off as the
intervals of her leisure or caprice will permit—how shall I
deal with the coquette? By Heaven, when I next have an
opportunity, she shall render me some reason for her conduct,
or I will break with her for ever!"
As he formed this doughty resolution, he crossed the stile
which led out of the little inclosure, and was almost immedi-
ately greeted by Dr. Luke Lundin.
"Ha! my most excellent young friend,” said the doctor,
"from whence come you?—but I note the place. Yes, neigh-
bour Blinkhoolie's garden is a pleasant rendezvous, and you
are of the age when lads look after a bonny lass with one eye
and a dainty plum with another. But hey! you look subtriste
and melancholic: I fear the maiden has proved cruel, or the
plums unripe; and surely, I think neighbour Blinkhoolie's
damsons can scarcely have been well preserved throughout
the winter-he spares the saccharine juice on his confects.
But courage, man, there are more Kates in Kinross; and for
the immature fruit, a glass of my double distilled aqua mi-
rabilis! probatum est.”
THE ABBOT.
353
The page darted an ireful glance at the facetious physician;
but presently recollecting that the name "Kate," which had
provoked his displeasure, was probably but introduced for
the sake of alliteration, he suppressed his wrath, and only
asked if the wains had been heard of.
(6
*
"Why, I have been seeking for you this hour to tell you
that the stuff is in your boat, and that the boat waits your
pleasure. Auchtermuchty had only fallen into company with
an idle knave like himself, and a stoup of aquavitæ between
them. Your boatmen lie on their oars, and there have al-
ready been made two wefts from the warder's turret, to inti-
mate that those in the castle are impatient for your return.
Yet there is time for you to take a slight repast; and as your
friend and physician, I hold it unfit you should face the water-
breeze with an empty stomach."
Roland Græme had nothing for it but to return, with such
cheer as he might, to the place where his boat was moored on
the beach, and resisted all offer of refreshment, although the
doctor promised that he should prelude the collation with a
gentle appetiser-a decoction of herbs gathered and distilled
by himself. Indeed, as Roland had not forgotten the con-
tents of his morning cup, it is possible that the recollection
induced him to stand firm in his refusal of all food to which
such an unpalatable preface was the preliminary. As they
passed towards the boat (for the ceremonious politeness of
the worthy chamberlain would not permit the page to go
thither without attendance), Roland Græme, amidst a group
who seemed to be assembled around a party of wandering
musicians, distinguished, as he thought, the dress of Cather-
ine Seyton. He shook himself clear from his attendant, and
at one spring was in the midst of the crowd, and at the side
of the damsel. "Catherine," he whispered, "is it well for
you to be still here?—will you not return to the castle?”
"To the devil with your Catherines and your castles!" an
swered the maiden, snappishly; "have you not had time
enough already to get rid of your follies? Begone! I desire
not your farther company, and there will be danger in thrust-
ing it upon me.”
Madag
1
23
354
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Nay, but if there be danger, fairest Catherine," replied
Roland, "why will you not allow me to stay and share it
with you?"
"Intruding fool," said the maiden, "the danger is all on
thine own side: the risk is, in plain terms, that I strike thee
on the mouth with the hilt of my dagger." So saying, she
turned haughtily from him, and moved through the crowd,
who gave way in some astonishment at the masculine activity
with which she forced her way among them.
As Roland, though much irritated, prepared to follow, he
was grappled on the other side by Doctor Luke Lundin, who
reminded him of the loaded boat, of the two wefts, or signals
with the flag, which had been made from the tower, of the
danger of the cold breeze to an empty stomach, and of the
vanity of spending .more time upon coy wenches and sour
plums. Roland was thus, in a manner, dragged back to his
boat, and obliged to launch her forth upon his return to Loch-
leven Castle.
That little voyage was speedily accomplished, and the page
was greeted at the landing-place by the severe and caustic
welcome of old Dryfesdale. "So, young gallant, you are come
at last, after a delay of six hours, and after two signals from
the.castle? But, I warrant, some idle junketing had occupied
you too deeply to think of your service or your duty. Where
is the note of the plate and household stuff? Pray Heaven
it hath not been diminished under the sleeveless care of so
heedless a gadabout!"
"Diminished under my care, sir steward?" retorted the
page, angrily; "say so in earnest, and by Heaven your grey
hairs shall hardly protect your saucy tongue!"
"A truce with your swaggering, young esquire,” returned
the steward; "we have bolts and dungeons for brawlers. Go
to my lady and swagger before her, if thou darest; she will
give thee proper cause of offence, for she has waited for thee
long and impatiently."
"And where then is the Lady of Lochleven?" said the
page; "for I conceive it is of her thou speakest."
"Ay, of whom else?" replied Dryfesdale; "or who besides
THE ABBOT.
355
the Lady of Lochleven hath a right to command in this
castle!"
"The Lady of Lochleven is thy mistress," said Roland
Græme; "but mine is the Queen of Scotland."
The steward looked at him fixedly for a moment, with an
air in which suspicion and dislike were ill concealed by an
affectation of contempt. "The bragging cock-chicken," he
said, "will betray himself by his rash crowing. I have
marked thy altered manner in the chapel of late--ay, and
your changing of glances at meal-time with a certain idle
damsel, who, like thyself, laughs at all gravity and goodness.
There is something about you, my master, which should be
looked to. But, if you would know whether the Lady of Loch-
leven or that other lady hath right to command thy service,
thou wilt find them together in the Lady Mary's ante-room.
Roland hastened thither, not unwilling to escape from the
ill-natured penetration of the old man, and marvelling at the
same time what peculiarity could have occasioned the Lady of
Lochleven's being in the Queen's apartment at this time of the
afternoon, so much contrary to her usual wont. His acute-
ness instantly penetrated the meaning. "She wishes," he
concluded, "to see the meeting betwixt the Queen and me on
my return, that she may form a guess whether there is any
private intelligence or understanding betwixt us. I must be
guarded."
With this resolution he entered the parlour, where the
Queen, seated in her chair, with the Lady Fleming leaning
upon the back of it, had already kept the Lady of Lochleven
standing in her presence for the space of nearly an hour, to
the manifest increase of her very visible bad-humour. Ro-
land Græme, on entering the apartment, made a deep obeis-
ance to the Queen, and another to the lady, and then stood
still as if to await their further question. Speaking almost
together, the Lady of Lochleven said: "So, young man, you
are returned at length?" And then stopped indignantly short,
while the Queen went on without regarding her: "Roland,
you are welcome home to us; you have proved the true dove
and not the raven. Yet I am sure I could have forgiven you,
356
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
if, once dismissed from this water-circled ark of ours, you had
never again returned to us. I trust you have brought back
an olive branch, for our kind and worthy hostess has chafed
herself much on account of your long absence, and we never
needed more some symbol of peace and reconciliation.'
""
"I grieve I should have been detained, madam," answered
the page;
“but from the delay of the person entrusted with
the matters for which I was sent, I did not receive them till
late in the day."
"See you there now," said the Queen to the Lady Loch-
leven, "we could not persuade you, our dearest hostess, that
your household goods were in all safe keeping and surety.
True it is, that we can excuse your anxiety, considering that
these august apartments are so scantily furnished that we
have not been able to offer you even the relief of a stool dur-
ing the long time you have afforded us the pleasure of your
society."
"The will, madam," said the lady-"the will to offer such
accommodation was more wanting than the means.
""
"What!" said the Queen, looking round, and affecting sur-
prise, "there are then stools in this apartment-one, two-
no less than four, including the broken one-a royal garni-
ture! We observed them not; will it please your ladyship
to sit?"
“No, madam, I will soon relieve you of my presence,” re-
plied the Lady Lochleven; "and, while with you, my aged
limbs can still better brook fatigue than my mind stoop to ac-
cept of constrained courtesy.'
""
"Nay, Lady of Lochleven, if you take it so deeply," said
the Queen, rising and motioning to her own vacant chair, "I
would rather you assumed my seat; you are not the first of
your family who has done so.
""
The Lady of Lochleven courtesied a negative, but seemed
with much difficulty to suppress the angry answer which rose
to her lips.
During this sharp conversation, the page's attention had
been almost entirely occupied by the entrance of Catherine
Seyton, who came from the inner apartment, in the usual
:
THE ABBOT.
357
dress in which she attended upon the Queen, and with noth
ing in her manner which marked either the hurry or confusion
incident to a hasty change of disguise or the conscious fear of
detection in a perilous enterprise. Roland Græme ventured to
make her an obeisance as she entered, but she returned it with
an air of the utmost indifference, which, in his opinion, was
extremely inconsistent with the circumstances in which they
stood towards each other. "Surely," he thought, "she can-
not in reason expect to bully me out of the belief due to mine
own eyes, as she tried to do concerning the apparition in the
hostelry of St. Michael's. I will try if I cannot make her
feel that this will be but a vain task, and that confidence in
me is the wiser and safer course to pursue."
(6
These thoughts had passed rapidly through his mind, when
the Queen, having finished her altercation with the lady of
the castle, again addressed him: "What of the revels at Kin-
ross, Roland Græme? Methought they were gay, if I may
judge from some faint sounds of mirth and distant music
which found their way so far as these grated windows, and
died when they entered them, as all that is mirthful must. But
thou lookest as sad as if thou hadst come from a conventicle
of the Huguenots!"
66
And so perchance he hath, madam," replied the Lady of
Lochleven, at whom this side-shaft was launched. "I trust,
amid yonder idle fooleries, there wanted not some pouring
forth of doctrine to a better purpose than that vain mirth
which, blazing and vanishing like the crackling of dry thorns,
leaves to the fools who love it nothing but dust and ashes.'
""
"Mary Fleming," said the Queen, turning round and draw-
ing her mantle about her, "I would that we had the chimney-
grate supplied with a fagot or two of these same thorns which
the Lady of Lochleven describes so well. Methinks the damp
air from the lake, which stagnates in these vaulted rooms,
renders them deadly cold."
"Your Grace's pleasure shall be obeyed," said the Lady of
Lochleven; "yet may I presume to remind you that we are
now in summer?”
“I thank you for the information, my good lady," said the
358
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
•
Queen; "for prisoners better learn their calendar from the
mouth of their jailor than from any change they themselves
feel in the seasons. Once more, Roland Græme, what of the
revels?"
"They were gay, madam," said the page, "but of the usual
sort, and little worth your Highness's ear."
"Oh, you know not," said the Queen, "how very indulgent
my ear has become to all that speaks of freedom and the
pleasures of the free. Methinks I would rather have seen
the gay villagers dance their ring round the Maypole than have
witnessed the most stately masques within the precincts
of a palace. The absence of stone walls, the sense that the
green turf is under the foot which may tread it free and unre-
strained, is worth all that art or splendour can add to more
courtly revels."
"I trust," said the Lady Lochleven, addressing the page
in her turn, “there were amongst these follies none of the
riots or disturbances to which they so naturally lead?”
Roland gave a slight glance to Catherine Seyton, as if to
bespeak her attention, as he replied: "I witnessed no offence,
madam, worthy of marking-none indeed of any kind, save
that a bold damsel made her hand somewhat too familiar with
the cheek of a player-man, and ran some risk of being ducked
in the lake."
As he uttered these words he cast a hasty glance at Cather-
ine; but she sustained, with the utmost serenity of manner
and countenance, the hint which he had deemed could not
have been thrown out before her without exciting some fear
and confusion.
"I will cumber your Grace no longer with my presence,
said the Lady Lochleven, "unless your have aught to com-
mand me."
ور
"Nought, our good hostess," answered the Queen, "unless
it be to pray you, that on another occasion you deem it not
needful to postpone your better employment to wait so long
upon us."
"May it please you," added the Lady Lochleven, "to com-
mand this young gentleman to attend us, that I may receive
THE ABBOT.
359
some account of these matters which have been sent hither
for your Grace's use?"
،،
We
may not refuse what you are pleased to require, mad-
am," answered the Queen. "Go with the lady, Roland, if
our commands be indeed necessary to thy doing so. We will
hear to-morrow the history of thy Kinross pleasures. For this
night we dismiss thy attendance."
Roland Græme went with the Lady of Lochleven, who
failed not to ask him many questions concerning what had
passed at the sports, to which he rendered such answers as
were most likely to lull asleep any suspicions which she might
entertain of his disposition to favour Queen Mary, taking es-
pecial care to avoid all allusion to the apparition of Magdalen
Græme and of the Abbot Ambrosius. At length, after under-
going a long and somewhat close examination, he was dis-
missed with such expressions as, coming from the reserved
and stern Lady of Lochleven, might seem to express a degree
of favour and countenance.
His first care was to obtain some refreshment, which was
more cheerfully afforded him by a good-natured pantler than
by Dryfesdale, who was, on this occasion, much disposed to
abide by the fashion of Pudding-burn House, where
They who came not the first call
Gat no more meat till the next meal.
When Roland Græme had finished his repast, having his
dismissal from the Queen for the evening, and being little in-
clined for such society as the castle afforded, he stole into the
garden, in which he had permission to spend his leisure time,
when it pleased him. In this place, the ingenuity of the con-
triver and disposer of the walks had exerted itself to make the
most of little space, and by screens, both of stone ornamented
with rude sculpture and hedges of living green, had endeav-
oured to give as much intricacy and variety as the confined
limits of the garden would admit.
Here the young man walked sadly, considering the events.
of the day, and comparing what had dropped from the abbot
with what he had himself noticed of the demeanour of George
360
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Douglas. "It must be so," was the painful but inevitable
conclusion at which he arrived "it must be by his aid that
she is thus enabled, like a phantom, to transport herself from
place to place, and to appear at pleasure on the mainland or
on the islet. It must be so," he repeated once more; "with
him she holds a close, secret, and intimate correspondence,
altogether inconsistent with the eye of favour which she has
sometimes cast upon me, and destructive to the hopes which
she must have known these glances have necessarily inspired."
And yet (for love will hope where reason despairs) the thought
rushed on his mind that it was possible she only encouraged
Douglas's passion so far as might serve her mistress's interest,
and that she was of too frank, noble, and candid a nature to
hold out to himself hopes which she meant not to fulfil.
Lost
in these various conjectures, he seated himself upon a bank of.
turf, which commanded a view of the lake on the one side,
and on the other of that front of the castle along which the
Queen's apartments were situated.
The sun had now for some time set, and the twilight of
May was rapidly fading into a serene night. On the lake the
expanded water rose and fell, with the slightest and softest
influence of a southern breeze, which scarcely dimpled the
surface over which it passed. In the distance was still seen
the dim outline of the island of St. Serf, once visited by many
a sandalled pilgrim, as the blessed spot trodden by a man of
God; now neglected or violated, as the refuge of lazy priests,
who had with justice been compelled to give place to the sheep
and the heifers of a Protestant baron.
-
""
As Roland gazed on the dark speck, amid the lighter blue
of the waters which surrounded it, the mazes of polemical dis-
cussion again stretched themselves before the eye of his mind.
Had these men justly suffered their exile as licentious drones,
the robbers, at once, and disgrace of the busy hive; or had
the hand of avarice and rapine expelled from the temple not
the ribalds who polluted, but the faithful priests who served,
the shrine in honour and fidelity? The arguments of Hender-
son, in this contemplative hour, rose with double force before
him, and could scarcely be parried by the appeal which the
THE ABBOT.
361
Abbot Ambrosius had made from his understanding to his
feelings-an appeal which he had felt more forcibly amid the
bustle of stirring life than now when his reflections were more
undisturbed. It required an effort to divert his mind from
this embarrassing topic; and he found that he best succeeded
by turning his eyes to the front of the tower, watching where
a twinkling light still streamed from the casement of Cather-
ine Seyton's apartment, obscured by times for a moment, as
the shadow of the fair inhabitant passed betwixt the taper and
the window. At length the light was removed or extinguished,
and that object of speculation was also withdrawn from the
eyes of the meditative lover. Dare I confess the fact, without
injuring his character for ever as a hero of romance? These
eyes gradually became heavy; speculative doubts on the sub-
ject of religious controversy, and anxious conjectures con-
cerning the state of his mistress's affections, became confused-
ly blended together in his musings; the fatigues of a busy day
prevailed over the harassing subjects of contemplation which
occupied his mind, and he fell fast asleep.
Sound were his slumbers, until they were suddenly dis-
pelled by the iron tongue of the castle bell, which sent its
deep and sullen sounds wide over the bosom of the lake, and
awakened the echoes of Bennarty, the hill which descends
steeply on its southern bank. Roland started up, for this
bell was always tolled at ten o'clock, as the signal for locking
the castle gates, and placing the keys under the charge of the
seneschal. He therefore hastened to the wicket by which the
garden communicated with the building, and had the mortifi-
cation, just as he reached it, to hear the bolt leave its sheath
with a discordant crash, and enter the stone groove of the
door-lintel.
'Hold-hold," cried the page,
" cried the page, "and let me in ere you lock
the wicket."
The voice of Dryfesdale replied from within, in his usual
tone of imbittered sullenness: "The hour is past, fair master;
you like not the inside of these walls; even make it a com-
plete holiday, and spend the night as well as the day out of
bounds."
(6
362
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
*
"Open the door," exclaimed the indignant page, "or by St.
Giles I will make thy gold chain smoke for it!"
"Make no alarm here," retorted the impenetrable Dryfes-
dale, "but keep thy sinful oaths and silly threats for those
that regard them. I do mine office, and carry the keys to the
seneschal. Adieu, my young master! the cool night air will
advantage your hot blood."
The steward was right in what he said; for the cooling
breeze was very necessary to appease the feverish fit of anger
which Roland experienced, nor did the remedy succeed for
some time.
At length, after some hasty turns made through
the garden, exhausting his passion in vain vows of vengeance,
Roland Græme began to be sensible that his situation ought
rather to be held as matter of laughter than of serious resent-
ment. To one bred a sportsman, a night spent in the open
air had in it little of hardship, and the poor malice of the stew-
ard seemed more worthy of his contempt than his anger. "I
would to God," he said, "that the grim old man may always
have contented himself with such sportive revenge. He often
looks as he were capable of doing us a darker turn." Return-
ing, therefore, to the turf-seat which he had formerly occu-
pied, and which was partially sheltered by a trim fence of
green holly, he drew his mantle around him, stretched himself
at length on the verdant settle, and endeavoured to resume
that sleep which the castle bell had interrupted to so little
purpose.
Sleep, like other earthly blessings, is niggard of its favours
when most courted. The more Roland invoked her aid, the
further she fled from his eyelids. He had been completely
awakened, first by the sounds of the bell, and then by his
own aroused vivacity of temper, and he found it difficult again
to compose himself to slumber. At length, when his mind
was wearied out with a maze of unpleasing meditations, he
succeeded in coaxing himself into a broken repose.
This was
again dispelled by the voices of two persons who were walk-
ing in the garden, the sound of whose conversation, after
mingling for some time in the page's dreams, at length suc-
ceeded in awaking him thoroughly. He raised himself from
THE ABBOT.
363
his reclining posture in the utmost astonishment, which the
circumstance of hearing two persons at that late hour con-
versing on the outside of the watchfully guarded Castle of
Lochleven was so well calculated to excite. His first thought
was of supernatural beings; his next, upon some attempt on
the part of Queen Mary's friends and followers; his last was
that George of Douglas, possessed of the keys, and having
the means of ingress and egress at pleasure, was availing him-
self of his office to hold a rendezvous with Catherine Seyton
in the castle garden. He was confirmed in this opinion by
the tone of the voice which asked in a low whisper “Whether
all was ready?"
CHAPTER XXX.
In some breasts passion lies conceal'd and silent,
Like war's swart powder in a castle vault,
Until occasion, like the linstock, lights it;
Then comes at once the lightning and the thunder,
And distant echoes tell that all is rent asunder.
Old Play.
ROLAND GRÆME, availing himself of a breach in the holly
screen, and of the assistance of the full moon, which was now
arisen, had a perfect opportunity, himself unobserved, to re-
connoitre the persons and the motions of those by whom his
rest had been thus unexpectedly disturbed; and his observa-
tions confirmed his jealous apprehensions. They stood to-
gether in close and earnest conversation within four yards of
the place of his retreat, and he could easily recognise the tall
form and deep voice of Douglas, and the no less remarkable
dress and tone of the page at the hostelry of St. Michael's.
"I have been at the door of the page's apartment," said
Douglas, "but he is not there, or he will not answer. It is
fast bolted on the inside, as is the custom, and we cannot
pass through it; and what his silence may bode I know not."
"You have trusted him too far," said the other—“ a feather-
headed coxcomb, upon whose changeable mind and hot brain
there is no making an abiding impression."
364
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
(6
"It was not I who was willing to trust him," said Douglas;
but I was assured he would prove friendly when called upon,
for-
Here he spoke so low that Roland lost the tenor of
his words, which was the more provoking as he was fully
aware that he was himself the subject of their conversation.
"Nay,” replied the stranger, more aloud, "I have on my
side put him off with fair words, which make fools fain; but
now, if you distrust him at the push, deal with him with your
dagger, and so make open passage.'
""
66
That were too rash," said Douglas; "and besides, as I
told you, the door of his apartment is shut and bolted. I will
essay again to waken him."
رو
Græme instantly comprehended that the ladies, having been
somehow made aware of his being in the garden, had secured
the door of the outer room in which he usually slept, as a sort
of sentinel upon that only access to the Queen's apartments.
But then, how came Catherine Seyton to be abroad, if the
Queen and the other lady were still within their chambers,
and the access to them locked and bolted? "I will be in-
stantly at the bottom of these mysteries," he said, "and
then thank Mrs. Catherine, if this be really she, for the
kind use which she exhorted Douglas to make of his dagger;
they seek me, as I comprehend, and they shall not seek me
in vain.'
99
Douglas had by this time re-entered the castle by the
wicket, which was now open. The stranger stood alone in the
garden walk, his arms folded on his breast, and his eyes cast
impatiently up to the moon, as if accusing her of betraying
him by the magnificence of her lustre. In a moment Roland
Græme stood before him. "A goodly night," he said, "Mrs.
Catherine, for a young lady to stray forth in disguise, and to
meet with men in an orchard!”
"Hush!" said the stranger page-"hush, thou foolish
patch, and tell us in a word if thou art friend or foe.”
"How should I be friend to one who deceives me by fair
words, and who would have Douglas deal with me with his
poniard?" replied Roland.
"The fiend receive George of Douglas and thee too, thou
THE ABBOT.
365
born madcap and sworn marplot!" said the other; "we shall
be discovered, and then death is the word."
"Catherine," said the page, "you have dealt falsely and
cruelly with me, and the moment of explanation is now come:
neither it nor you shall escape me."
"Madman!" said the stranger, "I am neither Kate nor
Catherine: the moon shines bright enough surely to know the
hart from the hind.”
“That shift shall not serve you, fair mistress," said the
page, laying hold on the lap of the stranger's cloak; "this
time, at least, I will know with whom I deal.'
""
"Unhand me," said she, endeavouring to extricate herself
from his grasp; and in a tone where anger seemed to contend
with a desire to laugh: "Use you so little discretion towards a
daughter of Seyton?"
But as Roland, encouraged perhaps by her risibility to
suppose his violence was not unpardonably offensive, kept
hold on her mantle, she said, in a sterner tone of unmixed
resentment: "Madman, let me go! there is life and death
in this moment. I would not willingly hurt thee, and yet
beware!"
As she spoke, she made a sudden effort to escape, and in
doing so a pistol which she carried in her hand or about her
person went off.
This warlike sound instantly awakened the well-warded cas-
tle. The warder blew his horn, and began to toll the castle
bell, crying out at the same time: "Fy, treason!—treason!
cry all!—cry all!”
The apparition of Catherine Seyton, which the page had let
loose in the first moment of astonishment, vanished in dark-
ness, but the plash of oars was heard, and in a second or two
five or six harquebusses and a falconet were fired from the
battlements of the castle successively, as if levelled at some
object on the water. Confounded with these incidents, no
way for Catherine's, protection (supposing her to be in the
boat which he had heard put from the shore) occurred to Ro-
land, save to have recourse to George of Douglas. He hast-
ened for this purpose towards the apartment of the Queen,
366
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
whence he heard loud voices and much trampling of feet.
When he entered, he found himself added to a confused and
astonished group, which, assembled in that apartment, stood
gazing upon each other. At the upper end of the room stood
the Queen, equipped as for a journey, and attended not only
by the Lady Fleming, but by the omnipresent Catherine Sey-
ton, dressed in the habit of her own sex, and bearing in her
hand the casket in which Mary kept such jewels as she had
been permitted to retain. At the other end of the hall was the
Lady of Lochleven, hastily dressed, as one startled from slum-
ber by the sudden alarm, and surrounded by domestics, some
bearing torches, others holding naked swords, partizans, pis-
tols, or such other weapons as they had caught up in the hurry
of a night alarm. Betwixt these two parties stood George of
Douglas, his arms folded on his breast, his eyes bent on the
ground, like a criminal who knows not how to deny, yet
continues unwilling to avow, the guilt in which he has been
detected.
"Speak, George of Douglas," said the Lady of Lochleven-
"speak, and clear the horrid suspicion which rests on thy
name. Say, 'A Douglas was never faithless to his trust, and
I am a Douglas.' Say this, my dearest son, and it is all I ask
thee to say to clear thy name, even under such a foul charge.
Say it was but the wile of these unhappy women and this
false boy which plotted an escape so fatal to Scotland, so de-
structive to thy father's house."
"Madam," said old Dryfesdale, the steward, "this much do
I say for this silly page, that he could not be accessary to un-
locking the doors, since I myself this night bolted him out of
the castle. Whoever limned this night-piece, the lad's share
in it seems to have been small."
"Thou liest, Dryfesdale," said the lady, "and wouldst
throw the blame on thy master's house, to save the worthless
life of a gipsy boy."
"His death were more desirable to me than his life," an-
swered the steward, sullenly; "but the truth is the truth."
At these words, Douglas raised his head, drew up his figure
to its full height, and spoke boldly and sedately, as one whose
THE ABBOT.
367
I
I
resolution was taken. "Let no life be endangered for me.
alone-
""
"Douglas," said the Queen, interrupting him, "art thou
mad? Speak not, I charge you."
"Madam," he replied, bowing with the deepest respect,
"gladly would I obey your commands, but they must have a
victim, and let it be the true one. Yes, madam," he con-
tinued, addressing the Lady of Lochleven, "I alone am guilty
in this matter. If the word of a Douglas has yet any weight
with you, believe me that this boy is innocent; and on your
conscience I charge you, do him no wrong; nor let the Queen
suffer hardship for embracing the opportunity of freedom
which sincere loyalty which a sentiment yet deeper-offered
to her acceptance. Yes! I had planned the escape of the most
beautiful, the most persecuted of women; and far from regret-
ting that I, for a while, deceived the malice of her enemies,
I glory in it, and am most willing to yield up life itself in
her cause.'
""
K
"Now, may God have compassion on my age," said the Lady
of Lochleven, "and enable me to bear this load of affliction!
O Princess, born in a luckless hour, when will you cease to
be the instrument of seduction and of ruin to all who ap-
proach you? O ancient house of Lochleven, famed so long
for birth and honour, evil was the hour which brought the
deceiver under thy roof!"
،،
Say not so, madam,” replied her grandson; "the old hon-
ours of the Douglas line will be outshone when one of its de-
scendants dies for the most injured of queens-for the most
lovely of women.”
(6
'Douglas," said the Queen, "must I at this moment-ay,
even at this moment, when I may lose a faithful subject
for ever-chide thee for forgetting what is due to me as thy
queen?"
"Wretched boy," said the distracted Lady of Lochleven,
"hast thou fallen even thus far into the snare of this Moabitish
woman?-hast thou bartered thy name, thy allegiance, thy
knightly oath, thy duty to thy parents, thy country, and thy
God, for a feigned tear, or a sickly smile, from lips which
368
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
flattered the infirm Francis-lured to death the idiot Darn-
ley—read luscious poetry with the minion Chastelar-mingled
in the lays of love which were sung by the beggar Rizzio—
and which were joined in rapture to those of the foul and
licentious Bothwell?"
"Blaspheme not, madam!" said Douglas; "nor you, fair
Queen, and virtuous as fair, chide, at this moment the pre-
sumption of thy vassal! Think not that the mere devotion of
a subject could have moved me to the part I have been per-
forming. Well you deserve that each of your lieges should
die for you; but I have done more-have done that to which
love alone could compel a Douglas: I have dissembled. Fare-
well, then, queen of all hearts, and empress of that of Douglas!
When you are freed from this vile bondage-as freed you shall
be, if justice remains in Heaven-and when you load with hon-
ours and titles the happy man who shall deliver you, cast one
thought on him whose heart would have despised every reward
for a kiss of your hand-cast one thought on his fidelity, and
drop one tear on his grave." And throwing himself at her
feet, he seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips.
66
"This before my face!" exclaimed the Lady of Lochleven-
wilt thou court thy adulterous paramour before the eyes of a
parent? Tear them asunder, and put him under strict ward!
Seize him, upon your lives!" she added, seeing that her at-
tendants looked on each other with hesitation.
"Save thyself, Douglas,
"They are doubtful," said Mary.
I command thee!"
He started up from the floor, and only exclaiming, “My life
or death are yours, and at your disposal!" drew his sword,
and broke through those who stood betwixt him and the
door. The enthusiasm of his onset was too sudden and too
lively to have been resisted by anything short of the most
decided opposition; and as he was both loved and feared by
his father's vassals, none of them would offer him any actual
injury.
The Lady of Lochleven stood astonished at his sudden escape.
"Am I surrounded," she said, "by traitors? Upon him, vil-
lains!-pursue, stab, cut him down!"
THE ABBOT.
369
"He cannot leave the island, madam," said Dryfesdale,
interfering: "I have the key of the boat-chain.”
But two or three voices of those who pursued from curiosity
or command of their mistress exclaimed from below, that he
had cast himself into the lake.
"Brave Douglas still!" exclaimed the Queen.
and noble heart, that prefers death to imprisonment!"
"Fire upon him!" said the Lady of Lochleven: "if there
be here a true servant of his father, let him shoot the runa-
gate dead, and let the lake cover our shame!"
"O true
،،
The report of a gun or two was heard, but they were prob-
ably shot rather to obey the lady than with any purpose of
hitting the mark; and Randal immediately entering, said that
Master George had been taken up by a boat from the castle,
which lay at a little distance.
"Man a barge and pursue them!" said the lady.
"It were quite vain," said Randal; "by this time they are
half-way to shore, and a cloud has come over the moon.
""
"And has the traitor then escaped?" said the lady, press-
ing her hands against her forehead with a gesture of despair;
"the honour of our house is for ever gone, and all will be
deemed accomplices in this base treachery!"
"Lady of Lochleven," said Mary, advancing towards her,
"you have this night cut off my fairest hopes: you have
turned my expected freedom into bondage, and dashed away
the cup of joy in the very instant I was advancing it to my
lips; and yet I feel for your sorrow the pity that you deny to
mine. Gladly would I comfort you if I might; but as I may
n
not, I would at least part from you in charity."
Away, proud woman!" said the lady; "who ever knew
so well as thou to deal the deepest wounds under the pretence
of kindness and courtesy? Who, since the great traitor, could
ever so betray with a kiss?"
"Lady Douglas of Lochleven," said the Queen, "in this
moment thou canst not offend me-no, not even by thy coarse
and unwomanly language, held to me in the presence of me-
nials and armed retainers. I have this night owed so much
to one member of the house of Lochleven as to cancel what-
24
370
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ever its mistress can do or say in the wildness of her pas-
sion."
(6
"We are bounden to you, Princess," said Lady Lochleven,
putting a strong constraint on herself, and passing from her
tone of violence to that of bitter irony; our poor house hath
been but seldom graced with royal smiles, and will hardly,
with my choice, exchange their rough honesty for such court
honour as Mary of Scotland has now to bestow.”
"They," replied Mary, "who knew so well how to take
may think themselves excused from the obligation implied in
receiving. And that I have now little to offer is the fault of
the Douglasses and their allies."
"Fear nothing, madam," replied the Lady of Lochleven, in
the same bitter tone, "you retain an exchequer which neither
your own prodigality can drain nor your offended country de-
prive you of. While you have fair words and delusive smiles
at command, you need no other bribes to lure youth to folly.”
The Queen cast a not ungratified glance on a large mirror,
which, hanging on one side of the apartment, and illuminated
by the torch-light, reflected her beautiful face and person.
"Our hostess grows complaisant," she said, "my Fleming;
we had not thought that grief and captivity had left us so
well stored with that sort of wealth which ladies prize most
dearly."
"Your Grace will drive this severe woman frantic," said
Fleming, in a low tone. "On my knees I implore you to re-
member she is already dreadfully offended, and that we are in
her power."
"I will not spare her, Fleming," answered the Queen; "it is
against my nature. She returned my honest sympathy with
insult and abuse, and I will gall her in return. If her words
are too blunt for answer, let her use her poniard if she dare!”
"The Lady Lochleven," said the Lady Fleming aloud,
"would surely do well now to withdraw and to leave her
Grace to repose.
66
'Ay," replied the lady, "or to leave her Grace and her
Grace's minions to think what silly fly they may next wrap
their meshes about. My eldest son is a widower-were he
ور
THE ABBOT.
371
not more worthy the flattering hopes with which you have
seduced his brother [son]? True, the yoke of marriage has
been already thrice fitted on; but the Church of Rome calls it
a sacrament, and its votaries may deem it one in which they
cannot too often participate."
66
"And the votaries of the Church of Geneva," replied Mary,
colouring with indignation, "as they deem marriage no sacra-
ment, are said at times to dispense with the holy ceremony."
Then, as if afraid of the consequences of this home allusion to
the errors of Lady Lochleven's early life, the Queen added:
Come, my Fleming, we grace her too much by this alterca-
tion: we will to our sleeping-apartment. If she would disturb
us again to-night, she must cause the door to be forced." So
saying, she retired to her bedroom, followed by her two wo-
men. Lady Lochleven, stunned as it were by this last sar-
casm, and not the less deeply incensed that she had drawn it
upon herself, remained like a statue on the spot which she had
occupied when she received an affront so flagrant. Dryfes-
dale and Randal endeavoured to rouse her to recollection by
questions.
"What is your honourable ladyship's pleasure in the prem-
ises?"
"Shall we not double the sentinels, and place one upon the
boats and another in the garden?" said Randal.
66 Would you that despatches were sent to Sir William at
Edinburgh, to acquaint him with what has happened?" de-
manded Dryfesdale; "and ought not the place of Kinross to
be alarmed, lest there be force upon the shores of the lake?”
"Do all as thou wilt," said the lady, collecting herself, and
about to depart. "Thou hast the name of a good soldier,
Dryfesdale, take all precautions. Sacred Heaven! that I
should be thus openly insulted!"
"Would it be your pleasure," said Dryfesdale, hesitating,
"that this person-this lady-be more severely restrained?"
"No, vassal!" answered the lady, indignantly, "my revenge
stoops not to so low a gratification. But I will have more
worthy vengeance, or the tomb of my ancestors shall cover
my shame!”
•
""
372
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"And you shall have it, madam," replied Dryfesdale. "Ere
two suns go down, you shall term yourself amply revenged."
The lady made no answer, perhaps did not hear his words,
as she presently left the apartment. By the command of
Dryfesdale, the rest of the attendants were dismissed, some
to do the duty of guard, others to their repose. The steward
himself remained after they had all departed; and Roland
Græme, who was alone in the apartment, was surprised to see
the old soldier advance towards him with an air of greater cor-
diality than he had ever before assumed to him, but which sat
ill on his scowling features.
<
“Youth,” he said, “I have done thee some wrong: it is
thine own fault, for thy behaviour hath seemed as light to
me as the feather thou wearest in thy hat; and surely thy
fantastic apparel, and idle humour of mirth and folly, have
made me construe thee something harshly. But I saw this
night from my casement, as I looked out to see how thou
hadst disposed of thyself in the garden-I saw, I say, the true
efforts which thou didst make to detain the companion of the
perfidy of him who is no longer worthy to be called by his
father's name, but must be cut off from his house like a rotten
branch. I was just about to come to thy assistance when the
pistol went off; and the warder a false knave, whom I sus-
pect to be bribed for the nonce-saw himself forced to give
the alarm, which, perchance, till then he had wilfully with-
held. To atone, therefore, for my injustice towards you, I
would willingly render you a courtesy, if you would accept of
it from my hands.'
"May I first crave to know what it is?" replied the page.
"Simply to carry the news of this discovery to Holyrood,
where thou mayst do thyself much grace, as well with the
Earl of Morton and the Regent himself as with Sir William
Douglas, seeing thou hast seen the matter from end to end,
and borne faithful part therein. The making thine own
fortune will be thus lodged in thine own hand, when I
trust thou wilt estrange thyself from foolish vanities, and
learn to walk in this world as one who thinks upon the
next,"
ور
S
THE ABBOT.
373
"Sir steward," said Roland Græme, "I thank you for your
courtesy, but I may not do your errand. I pass that I am the
Queen's sworn servant, and may not be of counsel against her.
But, setting this apart, methinks it were a bad road to Sir
William of Lochleven's favour to be the first to tell him of his
son's defection; neither would the Regent be over well pleased
to hear the infidelity of his vassal, nor Morton to learn the
falsehood of his kinsman."
"Um!" said the steward, making that inarticulate sound
which expresses surprise mingled with displeasure. "Nay,
then, even fly where ye list; for, giddy-pated as ye may be,
you know how to bear you in the world."
"I will show you my system is less selfish than ye think
for,” said the page; “for I hold truth and mirth to be better
than gravity and cunning-ay, and in the end to be a match
for them. You never loved me less, sir steward, than you do
at this moment. I know you will give me no real confidence,
and I am resolved to accept no false protestations as current
coin. Resume your old course: suspect me as much and watch
me as closely as you will, I bid you defiance. You have met
with your match.”
"By Heaven, young man," said the steward, with a look of
bitter malignity, "if thou darest to attempt any treachery
towards the house of Lochleven, thy head shall blacken in the
sun from the warder's turret!"
"He cannot commit treachery who refuses trust," said the
page; "and for my head, it stands as securely on mine own
shoulders as on any turret that ever mason built."
"Farewell, thou prating and speckled pie," said Dryfesdale,
"that art so vain of thine idle tongue and variegated coat!
Beware trap and lime-twig."
"And fare thee well, thou hoarse old raven," answered the
page; "thy solemn flight, sable hue, and deep croak are no
charms against bird-bolt or hail-shot, and that thou mayst
find. It is open war betwixt us, each for the cause of our
mistress, and God show the right!"
((
Amen, and defend His own people!" said the steward.
"I will let my mistress know what addition thou hast made
374
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
to this mess of traitors. Good-night, Monsieur Feather
pate.'
""
"Good-night, Seignor Sowersby," replied the page; and,
when the old man departed, he betook himself to rest.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Poison'd-ill fare! dead, forsook, cast off!
King John.
HOWEVER weary Roland Græme might be of the Castle of
Lochleven, however much he might wish that the plan for
Mary's escape had been perfected, I question if he ever awoke
with more pleasing feelings than on the morning after George
Douglas's plan for accomplishing her deliverance had been
frustrated. In the first place, he had the clearest conviction
that he had misunderstood the innuendo of the abbot, and
that the affections of Douglas were fixed, not on Catherine
Seyton, but on the Queen; and in the second place, from the
sort of explanation which had taken place betwixt the steward
and him, he felt himself at liberty, without any breach of
honour towards the family of Lochleven, to contribute his
best aid to any scheme which should in future be formed for
the Queen's escape; and, independently of the good-will which
he himself had to the enterprise, he knew he could find no
surer road to the favour of Catherine Seyton. He now sought
but an opportunity to inform her that he had dedicated himself
to this task, and fortune was propitious in affording him one
which was unusually favourable.
At the ordinary hour of breakfast, it was introduced by the
steward with his usual forms, who, as soon as it was placed
on the board in the inner apartment, said to Roland Græme,
with a glance of sarcastic import: "I leave you, my young sir,
to do the office of sewer; it has been too long rendered to the
Lady Mary by one belonging to the house of Douglas."
"
"Were it the prime and principal who ever bore the name,'
said Roland, "the office were an honour to him."
THE ABBOT.
375
The steward departed without replying to this bravade,
otherwise than by a dark look of scorn. Græme, thus left
alone, busied himself, as one engaged in a labour of love, to
imitate, as well as he could, the grace and courtesy with which
George of Douglas was wont to render his ceremonial service
at meals to the Queen of Scotland. There was more than
youthful vanity, there was a generous devotion, in the feeling
with which he took up the task, as a brave soldier assumes
the place of a comrade who has fallen in the front of battle.
"I am now," he said, "their only champion; and, come weal,
come woe, I will be, to the best of my skill and power, as
faithful, as trustworthy, as brave, as any Douglas of them all
could have been."
At this moment Catherine Seyton entered alone, contrary to
her custom; and not less contrary to her custom, she entered
with her kerchief at her eyes. Roland Græme approached
her with beating heart and with downcast eyes, and asked her
in a low and hesitating voice whether the Queen were well.
"Can you suppose it?" said Catherine; "think you her
heart and body are framed of steel and iron, to endure the
cruel disappointment of yestereven, and the infamous taunts
of yonder Puritanic hag? Would to God that I were a man,
to aid her more effectually!"
"If those who carry pistols, and batons, and poniards,"
said the page, (6
are not men, they are at least Amazons, and
that is as formidable."
"You are welcome to the flash of your wit, sir,” replied the
damsel; "I am neither in spirits to enjoy or to reply to it."
"Well, then," said the page, "list to me in all serious truth.
And, first, let me say, that the gear last night had been
smoother had you taken me into your counsels.'
"
"And so we meant; but who could have guessed that Mas-
ter Page should choose to pass all night in the garden, like
some moon-stricken knight in a Spanish romance, instead of
being in his bedroom, when Douglas came to hold communi-
cation with him on our project?"
"defer to so late a moment so
"And why," said the page,
important a confidence?"
376
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Because your communications with Henderson, and
with pardon the natural impetuosity and fickleness of your
disposition, made us dread to entrust you with a secret of such
consequence till the last moment.”
"And why at the last moment?" said the page, offended at
this frank avowal-" why at that or any other moment, since
I had the misfortune to incur so much suspicion?"
"Nay, now you are angry again," said Catherine; "and to
serve you aright I should break off this talk; but I will be
magnanimous, and answer your question. Know, then, our
reason for trusting you was twofold. In the first place, we
could scarce avoid it, since you slept in the room through
which we had to pass.
In the second place-
"Nay," said the page, "you may dispense with a second
reason, when the first makes your confidence in me a case of
necessity."
66
Good now, hold thy peace," said Catherine. "In the
second place, as I said before, there is one foolish person
among us who believes that Roland Græme's heart is warm,
though his head is giddy; that his blood is pure, though it
boils too hastily; and that his faith and honour are true as
the loadstar, though his tongue sometimes is far less than
discreet."
This avowal Catherine repeated in a low tone, with her eyes
fixed on the floor, as if she shunned the glance of Roland while
she suffered it to escape her lips. "And this single friend,"
exclaimed the youth in rapture" this only one who would do
justice to the poor Roland Græme, and whose own generous
heart taught her to distinguish between follies of the brain and
faults of the heart-will you not tell me, dearest Catherine, to
whom I owe my most grateful, my most heartfelt thanks?”
"Nay," said Catherine, with her eyes still fixed on the
ground, "if your own heart tell you not-
""
66
Dearest Catherine!" said the page, seizing upon her hand,
and kneeling on one knee.
"If your own heart, I say, tell you not," said Catherine,
gently disengaging her hand, "it is very ungrateful; for since
the maternal kindness of the Lady Fleming-——”
ور
THE ABBOT.
377
The page started on his feet. "By Heaven, Catherine,
your tongue wears as many disguises as your person! But
you only mock me, cruel girl. You know the Lady Fleming
has no more regard for any one than hath the forlorn prin-
cess who is wrought into yonder piece of old figured court-
tapestry."
"It may be so," said Catherine Seyton, "but you should
not speak so loud.”
(6
Pshaw!" answered the page, but at the same time lower-
ing his voice, "she cares for no one but herself and the Queen.
And you know, besides, there is no one of you whose opinion
I value, if I have not your own. No-not that of Queen Mary
:
herself."
"The more shame for you, if it be so," said Catherine, with
great composure.
"Nay, but, fair Catherine," said the page, "why will you
thus damp my ardour, when I am devoting myself, body and
soul, to the cause of your mistress?"
"It is because in doing so," said Catherine, "you debase a
cause so noble by naming along with it any lower or more sel-
fish motive. Believe me," she said, with kindling eyes, and
while the blood mantled on her cheek, "they think vilely and
falsely of women-I mean of those who deserve the name—
who deem that they love the gratification of their vanity, or
the mean purpose of engrossing a lover's admiration and affec-
tion, better than they love the virtue and honour of the man
they may be brought to prefer. He that serves his religion,
his prince, and his country with ardour and devotion, need
not plead his cause with the commonplace rant of romantic
passion: the woman whom he honours with his love becomes
his debtor, and her corresponding affection is engaged to repay
his glorious toil."
"You hold a glorious prize for such toil," said the youth,
bending his eyes on her with enthusiasm.
،،
Only a heart which knows how to value it," said Cather-
ine. "He that should free this injured princess from these
dungeons, and set her at liberty among her loyal and warlike
nobles, whose hearts are burning to welcome her-where is
378
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the maiden in Scotland whom the love of such a hero would
not honour, were she sprung from the blood royal of the land,
and he the offspring of the poorest cottager that ever held a
plough!"
"I am determined," said Roland, "to take the adventure.
Tell me first, however, fair Catherine, and speak it as if you
were confessing to the priest-this poor Queen, I know she is
unhappy-but, Catherine, do you hold her innocent? She is
accused of murder."
"Do I hold the lamb guilty, because it is assailed by the
wolf?" answered Catherine. "Do I hold yonder sun pol-
luted, because an earth-damp sullies his beams?"
The page sighed and looked down. "Would my conviction
were as deep as thine! But one thing is clear, that in this
captivity she hath wrong. She rendered herself up on a capit-
ulation, and the terms have been refused her. I will embrace
her quarrel to the death!"
"Will you will you, indeed?" said Catherine, taking his
hand in her turn. "Oh, be but firm in mind, as thou art bold
in deed and quick in resolution; keep but thy plighted faith,
and after ages shall honour thee as the saviour of Scot-
land!"
(6
"But when I have toiled successfully to win that Leah,
honour, thou wilt not, my Catherine," said the page, con-
demn me to a new term of service for that Rachel, love?”
"Of that," said Catherine, again extricating her hand from
his grasp,
"we shall have full time to speak; but honour is
the elder sister, and must be won the first."
"I may not win her," answered the page; "but I will ven-
ture fairly for her, and man cạn do no more. And know, fair
Catherine for you shall see the very secret thought of my
heart-that not honour only, not only that other and fairer
sister, whom you frown on me for so much as mentioning, but
the stern commands of duty also, compel me to aid the Queen's
deliverance."
"Indeed!" said Catherine; "you were wont to have doubts
on that matter.
""
"Ay, but her life was not then threatened," replied Roland.
THE ABBOT.
379
"And is it now more endangered than heretofore?" asked
Catherine Seyton, in anxious terror.
"Be not alarmed," said the page; "but you heard the terms
on which your royal mistress parted with the Lady of Loch-
leven?"
→
"Too well-but too well," said Catherine; "alas! that she
cannot rule her princely resentment, and refrain from en-
counters like these!"
"That hath passed betwixt them," said Roland, "for which
woman never forgives woman. I saw the lady's brow turn
pale, and then black, when, before all the menzie, and in her
moment of power, the Queen humbled her to the dust by tax-
ing her with her shame. And I heard the oath of deadly re-
sentment and revenge which she muttered in the ear of one
who, by his answer, will, I judge, be but too ready an execu-
tioner of her will."
"You terrify me," said Catherine.
"Do not so take it; call up the masculine part of your spirit;
we will counteract and defeat her plans, be they dangerous as
they may. Why do you look upon me thus, and weep?"
"Alas!" said Catherine, "because you stand there before
me a living and breathing man, in all the adventurous glow
and enterprise of youth, yet still possessing the frolic spirits
of childhood—there you stand, full alike of generous enter-
prise and childish recklessness; and if to-day, to-morrow, or
some such brief space, you lie a mangled and lifeless corpse
upon the floor of these hateful dungeons, who but Catherine
Seyton will be the cause of your brave and gay career being
broken short as you start from the goal? Alas! she whom you
have chosen to twine your wreath may too probably have to
work your shroud!”
"And be it so, Catherine," said the page, in the full glow
of youthful enthusiasm; "and do thou work my shroud! and
if thou grace it with such tears as fall now at the thought, it
will honour my remains more than an earl's mantle would my
living body. But shame on this faintness of heart! the time
craves a firmer mood. Be a woman, Catherine, or rather be
a man; thou canst be a man if thou wilt."
380
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Catherine dried her tears, and endeavoured to smile.
"You must not ask me," she said, "about that which so
much disturbs your mind; you shall know all in time-nay,
you should know all now, but that
Hush! here comes
the Queen."
mg
Mary entered from her apartment, paler than usual, and
apparently exhausted by a sleepless night, and by the painful
thoughts which had ill supplied the place of repose; yet the
languor of her looks was so far from impairing her beauty that
it only substituted the frail delicacy of the lovely woman for
the majestic grace of the Queen. Contrary to her wont, her
toilette had been very hastily despatched, and her hair, which
was usually dressed by Lady Fleming with great care, escaping
from beneath the head-tire, which had been hastily adjusted,
fell, in long and luxuriant tresses of nature's own curling, over
a neck and bosom which were somewhat less carefully veiled
than usual.
As she stepped over the threshold of her apartment, Cath-
erine, hastily drying her tears, ran to meet her royal mistress,
and having first kneeled at her feet and kissed her hand, in-
stantly rose, and placing herself on the other side of the
Queen, seemed anxious to divide with the Lady Fleming the
honour of supporting and assisting her. The page, on his
part, advanced and put in order the chair of state, which she
usually occupied, and having placed the cushion and footstool
for her accommodation, stepped back, and stood ready for ser-
vice in the place usually occupied by his predecessor, the young
seneschal. Mary's eye rested an instant on him, and could
not but remark the change of persons. Hers was not the
female heart which could refuse compassion, at least, to a gal-
lant youth who had suffered in her cause, although he had
been guided in his enterprise by a too presumptuous passion,
and the words "Poor Douglas!" escaped from her lips, per-
haps unconsciously, as she leant herself back in her chair, and
put the kerchief to her eyes.
"Yes, gracious madam," said Catherine, assuming a cheerful
manner, in order to cheer her sovereign, "our gallant knight
is indeed banished-the adventure was not reserved for him;
THE ABBOT.
381
but he has left behind him a youthful esquire as much devoted
to your Grace's service, and who, by me, makes you tender of
his hand and sword."
"If they may in aught avail your Grace," said Roland
Græme, bowing profoundly.
"Alas!" said the Queen, "what needs this, Catherine?-
why prepare new victims to be involved in, and overwhelmed
by, my cruel fortune? Were we not better cease to struggle,
and ourselves sink in the tide without further resistance, than
thus drag into destruction with us every generous heart which
makes an effort in our favour? I have had but too much of
plot and intrigue around me, since I was stretched an orphan
child in my very cradle, while contending nobles strove which
should rule in the name of the unconscious innocent. Surely
time it were that all this busy and most dangerous coil should
end. Let me call my prison a convent, and my seclusion a vol-
untary sequestration of myself from the world and its ways!"
"Speak not thus, madam, before your faithful servants,"
said Catherine, "to discourage their zeal at once and to break
their hearts. Daughter of kings, be not in this hour so un-
kingly. Come, Roland, and let us, the youngest of her fol-
lowers, show ourselves worthy of her cause: let us kneel before
her footstool, and implore her to be her own magnanimous
self." And leading Roland Græme to the Queen's seat, they
both kneeled down before her. Mary raised herself in her
chair, and sat erect, while, extending one hand to be kissed
by the page, she arranged with the other the clustering locks
which shaded the bold yet lovely brow of the high-spirited
Catherine.
"Alas! ma mignonne,” she said, for so in fondness she often
called her young attendant, "that you should thus desperately
mix with my unhappy fate the fortune of your young lives!
Are they not a lovely couple, my Fleming? and is it not heart-
rending to think that I must be their ruin?”
"Not so," said Roland Græme; "it is we, gracious sover-
eign, who will be your deliverers.”
"Ex oribus parvulorum!" said the Queen, looking upward;
"if it is by the mouth of these children that Heaven calls me
ME
382
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
to resume the stately thoughts which become my birth and my
rights, Thou wilt grant them Thy protection, and to me the
power of rewarding their zeal!" Then turning to Fleming,
she instantly added: "Thou knowest, my friend, whether to
make those who have served me happy was not ever Mary's
favourite pastime. When I have been rebuked by the stern
preachers of the Calvinistic heresy, when I have seen the
fierce countenances of my nobles averted from me, has it not
been because I mixed in the harmless pleasures of the young
and gay, and, rather for the sake of their happiness than my
own, have mingled in the masque, the song, or the dance, with
the youth of my household? Well, I repent not of it, though
Knox termed it sin, and Morton degradation. I was happy,
because I saw happiness around me; and woe betide the
wretched jealousy that can extract guilt out of the overflow-
ings of an unguarded gaiety! Fleming, if we are restored to
our throne, shall we not have one blythesome day at a blythe-
some bridal, of which we must now name neither the bride
nor the bridegroom? But that bridegroom shall have the
barony of Blairgowrie, a fair gift even for a queen to give,
and that bride's chaplet shall be twined with the fairest pearls
that ever were found in the depths of Loch Lomond; and thou
thyself, Mary Fleming, the best dresser of tires that ever
busked the tresses of a queen, and who would scorn to touch
those of any woman of lower rank-thou thyself shalt, for my
love, twine them into the bride's tresses. Look, my Fleming,
suppose them such clustered locks as those of our Catherine,
they would not put shame upon thy skill."
So saying, she passed her hand fondly over the head of her
youthful favourite, while her more aged attendant replied
despondently: "Alas! madam, your thoughts stray far from
home."
66
Queen; "but is it well
'They do, my Fleming," said the
or kind in you to call them back? God knows, they have
kept the perch this night but too closely. Come, I will recall
the gay vision, were it but to punish them. Yes, at that
blythesome bridal Mary herself shall forget the weight of
sorrows and the toil of state, and herself once more lead a
1

Outs
"Mary seemed surprised by the train of horrible ideas
.. beyond the verge of reason."
Abbot, Chap. xxxi., p. 383,
THE ABBOT.
383
measure.
At whose wedding was it that we last danced, my
Fleming? I think care has troubled my memory—yet some-
thing of it I should remember; canst thou not aid me? I
know thou canst."
"Alas! madam," replied the lady-
What," said Mary, "wilt thou not help us so far? This is
a peevish adherence to thine own graver opinion, which holds
our talk as folly. But thou art court-bred, and wilt well un-
derstand me when I say, the Queen commands Lady Fleming
to tell her where she led the last 'branle.'”
With a face deadly pale, and a mien as if she were about to
sink into the earth, the court-bred dame, no longer daring to
refuse obedience, faltered out: "Gracious lady-if my memory
err not—it was at a masque in Holyrood-at the marriage of
Sebastian."
The unhappy Queen, who had hitherto listened with a
melancholy smile, provoked by the reluctance with which the
Lady Fleming brought out her story, at this ill-fated word in-
terrupted her with a shriek so wild and loud that the vaulted
apartment rang, and both Roland and Catherine sprung to
their feet in the utmost terror and alarm. Meantime, Mary
seemed, by the train of horrible ideas thus suddenly excited,
surprised not only beyond self-command, but for the moment
beyond the verge of reason.
"Traitress!" she said to the Lady Fleming, "thou wouldst
slay thy sovereign. Call my French guards—à moi !—à moi !
mes Français! I am beset with traitors in mine own palace-
they have murdered my husband. Rescue!-rescue! for the
Queen of Scotland!" She started up from her chair; her fea-
tures, late so exquisitely lovely in their paleness, now inflamed
with the fury of frenzy, and resembling those of a Bellona.
"We will take the field ourself," she said; "warn the city-
warn Lothian and Fife-saddle our Spanish barb-and bid
French Paris see our petronel be charged! Better to die at
the head of our brave Scotsmen, like our grandfather at Flod-
den, than of a broken heart, like our ill-starred father!”
"Be patient-be composed, dearest sovereign!" said Cath-
erine; and then addressing Lady Fleming angrily, she
384
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
added: "How could you say aught that reminded her of
her husband?”
The word reached the ear of the unhappy princess, who
caught it up, speaking with great rapidity. Husband!-
what husband? Not his most Christian Majesty; he is ill at
ease he cannot mount on horseback. Not him of the Len-
nox; but it was the Duke of Orkney thou wouldst say.”
"For God's love, madam, be patient!" said the Lady
Fleming.
But the Queen's excited imagination could by no entreaty
be diverted from its course. "Bid him come hither to our
aid," she said, "and bring with him his lambs, as he calls
them-Bowton, Hay of Talla, Black Ormiston, and his kins-
man Hob. Fie! how swart they are, and how they smell of
sulphur! What! closeted with Morton? Nay, if the Douglas
and the Hepburn hatch the complot together, the bird, when
it breaks the shell, will scare Scotland. Will it not, my
66
C
Fleming?"
"She grows wilder and wilder," said Fleming; "we have
too many hearers for these strange words."
"Roland," said Catherine, "in the name of God, begone!
You cannot aid us here. Leave us to deal with her alone.
Away-away!"
She thrust him to the door of the ante-room; yet even
when he had entered that apartment and shut the door, he
could still hear the Queen talk in a loud and determined tone,
as if giving forth orders, until at length the voice died away
in a feeble and continued lamentation.
"Be not
At this crisis Catherine entered the ante-room.
too anxious," she said, "the crisis is now over; but keep the
door fast-let no one enter until she is more composed."
66
"In the name of God, what does this mean?" said the page;
or what was there in the Lady Fleming's words to excite so
wild a transport?"
“Oh, the Lady Fleming-the Lady Fleming," said Cather-
ine, repeating the words impatiently-"the Lady Fleming is
a fool: she loves her mistress, yet knows so little how to ex-
press her love that, were the Queen to ask her for very poison,
THE ABBOT.
385
she would deem it a point of duty not to resist her commands.
1 could have torn her starched head-tire from her formal
head. The Queen should have as soon had the heart out of
my body as the word 'Sebastian' out of my lips. That that
piece of weaved tapestry should be a woman, and yet not have
wit enough to tell a lie!"
"And what was this story of Sebastian?" said the page.
"By Heaven, Catherine, you are all riddles alike!"
"You are as great a fool as Fleming," returned the impa-
tient maiden. "Know ye not, that on the night of Henry
Darnley's murder, and at the blowing up of the Kirk of Field,
the Queen's absence was owing to her attending on a masque
at Holyrood, given by her to grace the marriage of this same
Sebastian, who, himself a favoured servant, married one of
her female attendants, who was near to her person?”
"By St. Giles," said the page, "I wonder not at her pas-
sion, but only marvel by what forgetfulness it was that she
could urge the Lady Fleming with such a question."
But
“I cannot account for it," said Catherine; "but it seems as
if great and violent grief or horror sometimes obscure the
memory, and spread a cloud, like that of an exploding cannon,
over the circumstances with which they are accompanied.
I may not stay here, where I came not to moralise with your
wisdom, but simply to cool my resentment against that unwise
Lady Fleming, which I think hath now somewhat abated, so
that I shall endure her presence without any desire to damage
either her curch or vasquine. Meanwhile, keep fast that door:
I would not for my life that any of these heretics saw her in
the unhappy state which, brought on her as it has been by the
success of their own diabolical plottings, they would not stick
to call, in their snuffling cant, the judgment of Providence.”
She left the apartment just as the latch of the outward door
was raised from without. But the bolt, which Roland had
drawn on the inside, resisted the efforts of the person desirous
to enter.
"Who is there?" said Græme aloud.
"It is I," replied the harsh and yet low voice of the steward
Dryfesdale.
25
386
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
!
;
"You cannot enter now," returned the youth.
"And wherefore?" demanded Dryfesdale, "seeing I come
but to do my duty, and inquire what mean the shrieks from
the apartment of the Moabitish woman. Wherefore, I say,
since such is mine errand, can I not enter?”"
66
Simply,” replied the youth, "because the bolt is drawn,
and I have no fancy to undo it. I have the right side of the
door to-day, as you had last night."
"Thou art ill-advised, thou malapert boy," replied the
steward, "to speak to me in such fashion; but I shall inform
my lady of thine insolence."
"The insolence," said the page, "is meant for thee only, in
fair guerdon of thy discourtesy to me. For thy lady's in-
formation, I have answer more courteous: you may say that
the Queen is ill at ease, and desires to be disturbed neither
by visits nor messages.
""
"I conjure you, in the name of God," said the old man,
with more solemnity in his tone than he had hitherto used,
"to let me know if her malady really gains power on her!"
"She will have no aid at your hand or at your lady's;
wherefore, begone, and trouble us no more: we neither want,
nor will accept of, aid at your hands."
With this positive reply, the steward, grumbling and dis-
satisfied, returned downstairs.
CHAPTER XXXII.
It is the curse of kings to be attended
By slaves, who take their humours for a warrant
To break into the bloody house of life,
And on the winking of authority
To understand a law.
King John.
THE Lady of Lochleven sat alone in her chamber, endeav-
ouring with sincere but imperfect zeal to fix her eyes and her
attention on the black-letter Bible which lay before her, bound
in velvet and embroidery, and adorned with massive silver
clasps and knosps. But she found her utmost efforts unable
THE ABBOT.
387
to withdraw her mind from the resentful recollection of what
had last night passed betwixt her and the Queen, in which
the latter had with such bitter taunt reminded her of her
early and long-repented transgression.
"Why," she said, "should I resent so deeply that another
reproaches me with that which I have never ceased to make
matter of blushing to myself? And yet, why should this wo-
man, who reaps-at least, has reaped the fruits of my folly,
and has jostled my son aside from the throne-why should
she, in the face of all my domestics and of her own, dare to
upbraid me with my shame? Is she not in my power? Does
she not fear me? Ha! wily tempter, I will wrestle with thee
strongly, and with better suggestions than my own evil heart
can supply!"
She again took up the sacred volume, and was endeavouring
to fix her attention on its contents, when she was disturbed by
a tap at the door of the room. It opened at her command,
and the steward Dryfesdale entered, and stood before her with
a gloomy and perturbed expression on his brow.
"What has chanced, Dryfesdale, that thou lookest thus?"
said his mistress. "Have there been evil tidings of my son
or of my grandchildren?"
"No, lady,” replied Dryfesdale, "but you were deeply in-
sulted last night, and I fear me thou art as deeply avenged
this morning. Where is the chaplain?"
"What mean you by hints so dark, and a question so sud-
den? The chaplain, as you well know, is absent at Perth
upon an assembly of the brethren.'
22
"I care not,” answered the steward; "he is but a priest
of Baal."
"Dryfesdale," said the lady, sternly, "what meanest thou?
I have ever heard that in the Low Countries thou didst herd
with the Anabaptist preachers-those boars which tear up the
vintage. But the ministry which suits me and my house must
content my retainers."
"I would I had good ghostly counsel, though," replied the
steward, not attending to his mistress's rebuke, and seeming
to speak to himself. 'This woman of Moab-
66
"3
388
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Speak of her with reverence," said the lady: "she is a
king's daughter.”
"Be it so," replied Dryfesdale; "she goes where there is
little difference betwixt her and a beggar's child. Mary of
Scotland is dying."
"Dying, and in my castle!" said the lady, starting up in
alarm; "of what disease, or by what accident?"
"Bear patience, lady. The ministry was mine.”
"Thine, villain and traitor! how didst thou dare"
"I heard you insulted, lady-I heard you demand vengeance;
I promised you should have it, and I now bring tidings of it."
"Dryfesdale, I trust thou ravest?" said the lady.
"I rave not," replied the steward. "That which was
written of me a million of years ere I saw the light must be
executed by me.
She hath that in her veins that, I fear me,
will soon stop the springs of life.'
"Cruel villain," exclaimed the lady, "thou hast not poi-
soned her?”
""
"And if I had," said Dryfesdale, "what does it so greatly
merit? Men bane vermin; why not rid them of their enemies
so? In Italy they will do it for a cruizuedor."
"Cowardly ruffian, begone from my sight."
Think better of my zeal, lady," said the steward, "and
judge not without looking around you. Lindesay, Ruthven,
and your kinsman Morton poniarded Rizzio, and yet you now
see no blood on their embroidery; the Lord Semple stabbed
the Lord of Sanquhar-does his bonnet sit a jot more awry
on his brow? What noble lives in Scotland who has not had
a share, for policy or revenge, in some such dealing? And
who imputes it to them? Be not cheated with names: a dag-
ger or a draught work to the same end, and are little unlike-
a glass phial imprisons the one, and a leathern sheath the
other; one deals with the brain, the other sluices the blood.
Yet, I say not I gave aught to this lady.'
66
"What dost thou mean by thus dallying with me?" said
the lady; as thou wouldst save thy neck from the rope it
merits, tell me the whole truth of this story; thou hast long
been known a dangerous man."
66
THE ABBOT.
389
"Ay, in my master's service I can be cold and sharp as my
sword. Be it known to you that, when last on shore, I con-
sulted with a woman of skill and power, called Nicneven, of
whom the country has rung for some brief time past. Fools
asked her for charms to make them beloved, misers for means
to increase their store; some demanded to know the future—
an idle wish, since it cannot be altered; others would have an
explanation of the past-idler still, since it cannot be recalled.
I heard their queries with scorn, and demanded the means
of avenging myself of a deadly enemy, for I grow old, and
may trust no longer to Bilboa blade. She gave me a packet.
'Mix that,' said she, 'with any liquid, and thy vengeance is
complete.'
222
1
"Villain! and you mixed it with the food of this imprisoned
lady, to the dishonour of thy master's house?”
"To redeem the insulted honour of my master's house, I
mixed the contents of the packet with the jar of succory
water. They seldom fail to drain it, and the woman loves it
over all."
"It was a work of hell," said the Lady Lochleven, "both the
asking and the granting. Away, wretched man, let us see if
aid be yet too late!"
(6
'They will not admit us, madam, save we enter by force.
I have been twice at the door, but can obtain no entrance.”
ލ
"We will beat it level with the ground, if needful. And
hold—summon Randal hither instantly. Randal, here is a
foul and evil chance befallen; send off a boat instantly to
Kinross-the chamberlain Luke Lundin is said to have skill.
Fetch off, too, that foul witch Nicneven; she shall first coun-
teract her own spell, and then be burnt to ashes in the island
of St. Serf. Away-away. Tell them to hoist sail and ply
oar, as ever they would have good of the Douglas's hand!"
"Mother Nicneven will not be lightly found, or fetched
hither on these conditions," answered Dryfesdale.
'Then grant her full assurance of safety. Look to it, for
thine own life must answer for this lady's recovery."
""
"I might have guessed that," said Dryfesdale, sullenly;
"but it is my comfort I have avenged mine own cause as well
390
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
as yours.
She hath scoffed and scripped at me, and encour-
aged her saucy minion of a page to ridicule my stiff gait and
slow speech. I felt it borne in upon me that I was to be
avenged on them."
""
"Go to the western turret," said the lady, "and remain
there in ward until we see how this gear will terminate. I
know thy resolved disposition: thou wilt not attempt escape.
"Not were the walls of the turret of egg-shells, and the
lake sheeted with ice," said Dryfesdale.
"I am well taught,
and strong in belief that man does nought of himself; he is
but the foam on the billow, which rises, bubbles, and bursts,
not by its own effort, but by the mightier impulse of fate
which urges him. Yet, lady, if I may advise, amid this zeal
for the life of the Jezebel of Scotland, forget not what is due
to thine own honour, and keep the matter secret as you may."
So saying, the gloomy fatalist turned from her, and stalked
off with sullen composure to the place of confinement allotted
to him.
His lady caught at his last hint, and only expressed her
fear that the prisoner had partaken of some unwholesome
food, and was dangerously ill. The castle was soon alarmed
and in confusion. Randal was despatched to the shore to
fetch off Lundin, with such remedies as could counteract poi-
son; and with farther instructions to bring Mother Nicneven,
if she could be found, with full power to pledge the Lady of
Lochleven's word for her safety.
Meanwhile, the Lady of Lochleven herself held parley at the
door of the Queen's apartment, and in vain urged the page to
undo it.
66
"Foolish boy!" she said, "thine own life and thy lady's
are at stake. Open, I say, or we will cause the door to be
broken down. ""
"I may not open the door without my royal mistress's or-
ders," answered Roland. "She has been very ill, and now
she slumbers; if you wake her by using violence, let the con-
sequence be on you and your followers."
(6 Was ever woman in a strait so fearful!" exclaimed the
Lady of Lochleven. "At least, thou rash boy, beware that
THE ABBOT.
391
no one tastes the food, but especially the jar of succory water."
She then hastened to the turret, where Dryfesdale had com-
posedly resigned himself to imprisonment. She found him
reading, and demanded of him, "Was thy fell potion of speedy
operation?"
-
"Re-
Slow," answered the steward. "The hag asked me which
I chose; I told her I loved a slow and sure revenge.
venge," said I, "is the highest-flavoured draught which man
tastes upon earth, and he should sip it by little and little, not
drain it up greedily at once."
"Against whom, unhappy man, couldst thou nourish so fell
a revenge?"
"I had many objects, but the chief was that insolent page.
"The boy! thou inhuman man," exclaimed the lady; "what
could he do to deserve thy malice?”
"He rose in your favour, and you graced him with your
commissions—that was one thing. He rose in that of George
Douglas also that was another. He was the favourite of the
Calvinistic Henderson, who hated me because my spirit dis-
owns a separated priesthood. The Moabitish Queen held
him dear-winds from each opposing point blew in his fa-
vour; the old servitor of your house was held lightly among
ye; above all, from the first time I saw his face, I longed to
destroy him."
·
99
"What fiend have I nurtured in my house!" replied the
lady. "May God forgive me the sin of having given thee
food and raiment!"
"You might not choose, lady," answered the steward.
"Long ere this castle was builded-ay, long ere the islet
which sustains it reared its head above the blue water-I
was destined to be your faithful slave, and you to be my un-
grateful mistress. Remember you not when I plunged amid
the victorious French, in the time of this lady's mother, and
brought off your husband, when those who had hung at the
same breasts with him dared not attempt the rescue? Remem-
ber how I plunged into the lake when your grandson's skiff
was overtaken by the tempest, boarded, and steered her safe
to the land. Lady, the servant of a Scottish baron is he who
-
392
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
}
regards not his own life or that of any other, save his master.
And, for the death of the woman, I had tried the potion on
her sooner, had not Master George been her taster. Her
death—would it not be the happiest news that Scotland ever
heard? Is she not of the bloody Guisian stock, whose sword
was so often red with the blood of God's saints? Is she not
the daughter of the wretched tyrant James, whom Heaven
cast down from his kingdom and his pride, even as the king
of Babylon was smitten?"
"Peace, villain!" said the lady, a thousand varied recollec-
tions thronging on her mind at the mention of her royal lov-
er's name "peace, and disturb not the ashes of the dead-of
the royal, of the unhappy dead. Read thy Bible; and may
God grant thee to avail thyself better of its contents than
thou hast yet done!" She departed hastily, and as she reached
the next apartment, the tears rose to her eyes so hastily that
she was compelled to stop and use her kerchief to dry them.
"I expected not this,' she said, "no more than to have drawn
water from the hard flint, or sap from a withered tree. I
saw with a dry eye the apostacy and shame of George Doug-
las-the hope of my son's house, the child of my love; and
yet I now weep for him who has so long lain in his grave—
for him to whom I owe it that his daughter can make a scoffing
and a jest of my name! But she is his daughter; my heart,
hardened against her for so many causes, relents when a
glance of her eye places her father unexpectedly before me;
and as often her likeness to that true daughter of the house of
Guise, her detested mother, has again confirmed my resolu-
tion. But she must not-must not die in my house, and by
so foul a practice. Thank God, the operation of the potion
is slow, and may be counteracted! I will to her apartment
once more. But oh, that hardened villain, whose fidelity we
held in such esteem, and had such high proof of! What mir-
acle can unite so much wickedness and so much truth in one
bosom?"
The Lady of Lochleven was not aware how far minds of a
certain gloomy and determined cast by nature may be warped
by a keen sense of petty injuries and insults, combining with
THE ABBOT.
393
the love of gain, and sense of self-interest, and amalgamated
with the crude, wild, and indigested fanatical opinions which
this man had gathered among the crazy sectaries of Ger-
many; or how far the doctrines of fatalism, which he had
embraced so decidedly, sear the human conscience, by rep-
resenting our actions as the result of inevitable necessity.
During her visit to the prisoner, Roland had communicated
to Catherine the tenor of the conversation he had had with
her at the door of the apartment. The quick intelligence of
that lively maiden instantly comprehended the outline of what
was believed to have happened, but her prejudices hurried her
beyond the truth.
"They meant to have poisoned us, " she exclaimed in hor-
ror, "and there stands the fatal liquor which should have
done the deed! Ay, as soon as Douglas ceased to be our
taster, our food was likely to be fatally seasoned. Thou, Ro-
land, who shouldst have made the essay, wert readily doomed
to die with us. O dearest Lady Fleming, pardon-pardon
for the injuries I said to you in my anger: your words were
prompted by Heaven to save our lives, and especially that of
the injured Queen. But what have we now to do? That old
crocodile of the lake will be presently back to shed her hypo-
critical tears over our dying agonies. Lady Fleming, what
shall we do?"
"Our Lady help us in our need!" she replied; "how should
I tell, unless we were to make our plaint to the Regent?"
"Make our plaint to the devil," said Catherine, impatiently,
"and accuse his dam at the foot of his burning throne! The
Queen still sleeps; we must gain time. The poisoning hag
must not know her scheme has miscarried; the old enven-
omed spider has but too many ways of ending her broken
web. The jar of succory water," said she—“Rolanu, if thou
be'st a man, help me: empty the jar on the chimney or from
the window; make such waste among the viands as if we had
made our usual meal, and leave the fragments on cup and
porringer, but taste nothing as thou lovest thy life. I will'
sit by the Queen, and tell her, at her waking, in what a fear-
ful pass we stand. Her sharp wit and ready spirit will teach
394
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
us what is best to be done. Meanwhile, till farther notice,
observe, Roland, that the Queen is in a state of torpor; that
Lady Fleming is indisposed-that character (speaking in a
lower tone) will suit her best, and save her wits some labour
in vain. I am not so much indisposed, thou understandest.”
"And I?” said the page-
"You!” replied Catherine, "you are quite well; who thinks
it worth while to poison puppy-dogs or pages?”
"Does this levity become the time?" asked the page.
"It does-it does," answered Catherine Seyton; "if the
Queen approves, I see plainly how this disconcerted attempt
may do us good service."
She went to work while she spoke, eagerly assisted by Ro-
land. The breakfast-table soon displayed the appearance as
if the meal had been eaten as usual; and the ladies retired
as softly as possible into the Queen's sleeping-apartment. At
a new summons of the Lady Lochleven, the page undid the
door, and admitted her into the ante-room, asking her pardon
for having withstood her, alleging in excuse that the Queen
had fallen into a heavy slumber since she had broken her
fast.
"She had eaten and drunken, then?" said the Lady of
Lochleven.
Surely," replied the page, "according to her Grace's ordi-
nary custom, unless upon the fasts of the church.”
"The jar," she said, hastily examining it, "it is empty;
drank the Lady Mary the whole of this water?"
"A large part, madam; and I heard the Lady Catherine
Seyton jestingly upbraid the Lady Mary Fleming with having
taken more than a just share of what remained, so that but
little fell to her own lot."
"And are they well in health?" said the Lady of Loch-
leven.
(6
46
Lady Fleming," said the page, "complains of lethargy,
and looks duller than usual; and the Lady Catherine of Sey-
ton feels her head somewhat more giddy than is her wont."
He raised his voice a little as he said these words, to apprise
the ladies of the part assigned to each of them, and not, per-
THE ABBOT.
395
haps, without the wish of conveying to the ears of Catherine
the page-like jest which lurked in the allotment.
"I will enter the Queen's chamber," said the Lady Loch-
leven; "my business is express."
As she advanced to the door, the voice of Catherine Seyton
was heard from within. "No one can enter here; the Queen
sleeps."
"I will not be controlled, young lady," replied the lady of
Lochleven; "there is, I wot, no inner bar, and I will enter
in your despite."
"There is, indeed, no inner bar," answered Catherine,
firmly, "but there are the staples where that bar should be;
and into those staples have I thrust mine arm, like an ances-
tress of your own, when, better employed than the Douglasses
of our days, she thus defended the bedchamber of her sovereign
against murderers.
Try your force, then, and see whether
a Seyton cannot rival in courage a maiden of the house of
Douglas."
"I dare not attempt the pass at such risk," said the Lady
of Lochleven. "Strange, that this princess, with all
that
justly attaches to her as blameworthy, should preserve such
empire over the minds of her attendants! Damsel, I give
thee my honour that I come for the Queen's safety and advan-
tage. Awaken her, if thou lovest her, and pray her leave
that I may enter. I will retire from the door the whilst."
Thou wilt not awaken the Queen?" said the Lady Flem-
ing.
(C
"What choice have we?" said the ready-witted maiden,
"unless you deem it better to wait till the Lady Lochleven
herself plays lady of the bedchamber. Her fit of patience
will not last long, and the Queen must be prepared to meet
her."
"But thou wilt bring back her Grace's fit by thus disturb-
ing her."
Heaven forbid!" replied Catherine; "but if so, it must
pass for an effect of the poison. I hope better things, and
that the Queen will be able when she wakes to form her own
judgment in this terrible crisis. Meanwhile, do thou, dear
396
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Lady Fleming, practise to look as dull and heavy as the alert
ness of thy spirit will permit.
,,
Catherine kneeled by the side of the Queen's bed, and,
kissing her hand repeatedly, succeeded at last in awakening
without alarming her. She seemed surprised to find that
she was ready dressed, but sate up in her bed, and appeared
so perfectly composed that Catherine Seyton, without farther
preamble, judged it safe to inform her of the predicament in
which they were placed. Mary turned pale, and crossed her-
self again and again, when she heard the imminent danger in
which she had stood. But, like the Ulysses of Homer-
Hardly waking yet,
Sprung in her mind the momentary wit,
S
and she at once understood her situation, with the dangers
and advantages that attended it.
"We cannot do better," she said, after her hasty confer-
ence with Catherine, pressing her at the same time to her bos-
om, and kissing her forehead-"we cannot do better than to
follow the scheme so happily devised by thy quick wit and
bold affection. Undo the door to the Lady Lochleven. She
shall meet her match in art, though not in perfidy. Fleming,
draw close the curtain, and get thee behind it thou art a
better tire-woman than an actress; do but breathe heavily,
and, if thou wilt, groan slightly, and it will top thy part.
Hark! they come. Now, Catherine of Medicis, may thy
spirit inspire me, for a cold northern brain is too blunt for
this scene!"
Ushered by Catherine Seyton, and stepping as light as she
could, the Lady Lochleven was shown into the twilight apart-
ment, and conducted to the side of the couch, where Mary,
pallid and exhausted from a sleepless night and the subse-
quent agitation of the morning, lay extended so listlessly as
might well confirm the worst fears of her hostess.
"Now, God forgive us our sins!" said the Lady of Loch-
leven, forgetting her pride, and throwing herself on her
knees by the side of her bed; "it is too true—she is mur-
dered!"
THE ABBOT,
397
"Who is in the chamber?" said Mary, as if awaking from
a heavy sleep. "Seyton, Fleming, where are you? I heard
a strange voice. Who waits? Call Courcelles."
"Alas! her memory is at Holyrood, though her body is at
Lochleven. Forgive, madam," continued the lady, "if I call
your attention to me. I am Margaret Erskine, of the house of
Mar, by marriage Lady Douglas of Lochleven."
"Oh, our gentle hostess," answered the Queen, "who hath
such care of our lodgings and of our diet. We cumber you
too much and too long, good Lady of Lochleven; but we now
trust your task of hospitality is wellnigh ended."
"Her words go like a knife through my heart," said the
Lady of Lochleven. "With a breaking heart, I pray your
Grace to tell me what is your ailment, that aid may be had,
if there be yet time?"
"Nay, my ailment," replied the Queen, "is nothing worth
telling, or worth a leech's notice: my limbs feel heavy-my
heart feels cold-a prisoner's limbs and heart are rarely oth-
erwise. Fresh air, methinks, and freedom would soon revive
me; but as the estates have ordered it, death alone can break
my prison doors."
"Were it possible, madam," said the lady, "that your
liberty could restore your perfect health, I would myself en-
counter the resentment of the Regent of my son, Sir Wil-
liam—of my whole friends, rather than you should meet your
fate in this castle!"
"Alas! madam," said the Lady Fleming, who conceived
thie time propitious to show that her own address had been
held too lightly of; "it is but trying what good freedom may
work upon us; for myself, I think a free walk on the green-
sward would do me much good at heart."
The Lady of Lochleven rose from the bedside, and darted
a penetrating look at the elder valetudinary.
"Are you so
evil-disposed, Lady Fleming?"
Evil-disposed indeed, madam, " replied the court dame,
" and more especially since breakfast.”
"Help!-help!" exclaimed Catherine, anxious to break off
a conversation which boded her schemes no good-"help! I
(6
398
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
say-help! the Queen is about to pass away. Aid her, Lady
Lochleven, if you be a woman!"
The lady hastened to support the Queen's head, who, turn-
ing her eyes towards her with an air of great languor, ex-
claimed: "Thanks, my dearest Lady of Lochleven; notwith-
standing some passages of late, I have never misconstrued
or misdoubted your affection to our house. It was proved, as
I have heard, before I was born."
The Lady Lochleven sprung from the floor, on which she
had again knelt, and having paced the apartment in great
disorder, flung open the lattice, as if to get air.
"Now, Our Lady forgive me!" said Catherine to herself;
"how deep must the love of sarcasm be implanted in the
breasts of us women, since the Queen, with all her sense, will
risk ruin rather than rein in her wit!" She then adventured,
stooping over the Queen's person, to press her arm with her
hand, saying, at the same time, "For God's sake, madam,
restrain yourself!"
"Thou art too forward, maiden," said the Queen; but
immediately added, in a low whisper, "Forgive me, Cath-
erine; but when I felt the hag's murderous hands busy
about my head and neck, I felt such disgust and hatred
that I must have said something or died. But I will be
schooled to better haviour, only see that thou let her not
touch me.””
66
G
'Now, God be praised!" said the Lady of Lochleven, with-
drawing her head from the window, "the boat comes as fast
as a sail and oar can send wood through water. It brings the
leech and a female-certainly, from the appearance, the very
person I was in quest of. Were she but well out of this
castle, with our honour safe, I would that she were on the
top of the wildest mountain in Norway; or I would I had
been there myself, ere I had undertaken this trust!"
While she thus expressed herself, standing apart at one
window, Roland Græme, from the other, watched the boat
bursting through the waters of the lake, which glided from
its side in ripple and in foam. He, too, became sensible that
at the stern was seated the medical chamberlain, clad in his
THE ABBOT.
399
black velvet cloak; and that his own relative, Magdalen
Græme, in her assumed character of Mother Nicneven, stood
in the bow, her hands clasped together, and pointed towards
the castle, and her attitude, even at that distance, expressing
enthusiastic eagerness to arrive at the landing-place. They
arrived there accordingly; and while the supposed witch was
detained in a room beneath, the physician was ushered to the
Queen's apartment, which he entered with all due professional
solemnity. Catherine had, in the mean while, fallen back
from the Queen's bed, and taken an opportunity to whisper
to Roland: "Methinks, from the information of the thread-
bare velvet cloak and the solemn beard, there would be little
trouble in haltering yonder ass. But thy grandmother, Roland
-thy grandmother's zeal will ruin us, if she get not a hint
to dissemble."
Roland, without reply, glided towards the door of the
apartment, crossed the parlour, and safely entered the ante-
chamber; but when he attempted to pass farther, the word
"Back! Back!" echoed from one to the other by two men
armed with carabines, convinced him that the Lady of Loch-
leven's suspicions had not, even in the midst of her alarms,
been so far lulled to sleep as to omit the precaution of station-
ing sentinels on her prisoners. He was compelled, therefore,
to return to the parlour, or audience-chamber, in which he
found the lady of the castle in conference with her learned
leech.
"A truce with your cant phrase and your solemn foppery,
Lundin," in such terms she accosted the man of art, "and let
me know instantly, if thou canst tell, whether this lady hath
swallowed aught that is less than wholesome.”
"Nay, but, good lady-honoured patroness-to whom I am
alike bondsman in my medical and official capacity, deal rea-
sonably with me. If this, mine illustrious patient, will not
answer a question, saving with sighs and moans; if that other
honourable lady will do nought but yawn in my face when I
inquire after the diagnostics; and if that other young damsel,
who I profess is a comely maiden-"
"Talk not to me of comeliness or of damsels," said the
400
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Lady of Lochleven; "I say, are they evil-disposed? In one
word, man, have they taken poison-ay or no?”
"Poisons, madam," said the learned leech, "are of various
sorts. There is your animal poison, as the Lepus marinus,
as mentioned by Dioscorides and Galen; there are mineral
and semi-mineral poisons, as those compounded of sublimate
regulus of antimony, vitriol, and the arsenical salts; there
are your poisons from herbs and vegetables, as the aqua cym-
balariæ, opium, aconitum, cantharides, and the like; there
are also
""
66
Now, out upon thee for a learned fool! And I myself am
no better for expecting an oracle from such a log," said the
lady.
66
Nay, but if your ladyship will have patience. If I knew
what food they have partaken of, or could see but the rem-
nants of what they have last eaten; for as to the external
and internal symptoms, I can discover nought like; for, as
Galen saith in his second book De Antidotis—”
"Away, fool!" said the lady; "send me that hag hither;
she shall avouch what it was that she hath given to the wretch
Dryfesdale, or the pilniewinks and thumbikins shall wrench
it out of her finger-joints!"
“Art hath no enemy unless the ignorant," said the morti-
fied doctor; veiling, however, his remark under the Latin
version, and stepping apart into a corner to watch the result.
In a minute or two Magdalen Græme entered the apart-
ment, dressed as we have described her at the revel, but with
her muffler thrown back, and all affectation of disguise. She
was attended by two guards, of whose presence she did not
seem even to be conscious, and who followed her with an air
of embarrassment and timidity, which was probably owing to
their belief in her supernatural power, coupled with the effect
produced by her bold and undaunted demeanour.
She con-
fronted the Lady of Lochleven, who seemed to endure with
high disdain the confidence of her air and manner.
"Wretched woman!" said the lady, after essaying for a
moment to bear her down, before she addressed her, by the
stately severity of her look, "what was that powder which
THE ABBOT.
401
thou didst give to a servant of this house, by name Jasper
Dryfesdale, that he might work out with it some slow and
secret vengeance? Confess its nature and properties, or, by
the honour of Douglas, I give thee to fire and stake before
the sun is lower!"
Alas!" said Magdalen Græme in reply, "and when became
a Douglas or a Douglas's man so unfurnished of his means of
revenge that he should seek them at the hands of a poor and
solitary woman? The towers in which your captives pine
away into unpitied graves yet stand fast on their founda-
tions; the crimes wrought in them have not yet burst their
vaults asunder; your men have still their cross-bows, pisto-
lets, and daggers; why need you seek to herbs or charms for
the execution of your revenges?"
"Hear me, foul hag," said the Lady of Lochleven—" but
what avails speaking to thee? Bring Dryfesdale hither, and
let them be confronted together."
"You may spare your retainers the labour," replied Magda-
len Græme. "I came not here to be confronted with a base
groom, nor to answer the interrogatories of James's heretical
leman. I came to speak with the Queen of Scotland.
place there!"
Give
And while the Lady of Lochleven stood confounded at her
boldness, and at the reproach she had cast upon herself, Mag-
dalen Græme strode past her into the bedchamber of the
Queen, and, kneeling on the floor, made a salutation as if,
in the Oriental fashion, she meant to touch the earth with
her forehead.
"Hail, Princess!" she said-"hail, daughter of many a
king, but graced above them all in that thou art called to
suffer for the true faith!-hail to thee, the pure gold of whose
crown has been tried in the seven-times-heated furnace of
affliction—hear the comfort which God and Our Lady send
thee by the mouth of thy unworthy servant. But first," and
stooping her head she crossed herself repeatedly, and, still
upon her knees, appeared to be rapidly reciting some formula
of devotion.
"Seize her and drag her to the massymore! To the deepest
26
402
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
dungeon with the sorceress, whose master, the devil, could
alone have inspired her with boldness enough to insult the
mother of Douglas in his own castle!" Thus spoke the in-
censed Lady of Lochleven.
But the physician presumed to interpose. "I pray of you,
honoured madam, she be permitted to take her course without
interruption. Peradventure we shall learn something concern-
ing the nostrum she hath ventured, contrary to law and the
rules of art, to adhibit to these ladies, through the medium of
the steward Dryfesdale."
"For a fool,” replied the Lady of Lochleven, "thou hast
counselled wisely. I will bridle my resentment till their con-
ference be over."
"God forbid, honoured lady," said Doctor Lundin, "that
you should suppress it longer-nothing may more endanger
the frame of your honoured body; and truly, if there be
witchcraft in this matter, it is held by the vulgar, and even
by solid authors on demonology, that three scruples of the
ashes of the witch, when she hath been well and carefully
burnt at stake, is a grand catholicon in such matter, even as
they prescribe crinis canis rabidi-a hair of the dog that bit
the patient-in cases of hydrophobia. I warrant neither treat-
ment, being out of the regular practice of the schools; but, in
the present case, these can be little harm in trying the conclu-
sion upon this old necromancer and quacksalver: fiat experi-
mentum, as we say, in corpore vili."
"Peace, fool!" said the lady, "she is about to speak."
At that moment Magdalen Græme arose from her knees,
and turned her countenance on the Queen, at the same time
advancing her foot, extending her arm, and assuming the
mien and attitude of a sybil in frenzy. As her grey hair
floated back from beneath her coif, and her eye gleamed fire
from under its shaggy eyebrow, the effect of her expressive,
though emaciated, features was heightened by an enthusiasm
approaching to insanity, and her appearance struck with awe
all who were present. Her eyes for a time glanced wildly
around, as if seeking for something to aid her in collecting
her powers of expression, and her lips had a nervous and
THE ABBOT.
403
•
quivering motion, as those of one who would fain speak, yet
rejects as inadequate the words which present themselves.
Mary herself caught the infection as if by a sort of magnetic
influence, and raising herself from her bed, without being
able to withdraw her eyes from those of Magdalen, waited as
if for the oracle of a pythoness. She waited not long; for no
sooner had the enthusiast collected herself than her gaze be-
came intensely steady, her features assumed a determined
energy, and when she began to speak the words flowed
from her with a profuse fluency which might have passed
for inspiration, and which, perhaps, she herself mistook
for such.
"Arise," she said, "Queen of France and of England!
Arise, lioness of Scotland, and be not dismayed, though the
nets of the hunters have encircled thee! Stoop not to feign
with the false ones, whom thou shalt soon meet in the field.
The issue of battle is with the God of armies, but by the bat-
tle thy cause shall be tried. Lay aside, then, the arts of lower
mortals, and assume those which become a queen! True de-
fender of the only true faith, the armoury of Heaven is open.
to thee! Faithful daughter of the church, take the keys of
St. Peter, to bind and to loose! Royal Princess of the land,
take the sword of St. Paul, to smite and to shear! There is
darkness in thy destiny; but not in these towers, not under
the rule of their haughty mistress, shall that destiny be closed.
In other lands the lioness may crouch to the power of the ti-
gress, but not in her own: not in Scotland shall the Queen of
Scotland long remain captive; nor is the fate of the royal
Stuart in the hands of the traitor Douglas. Let the Lady of
Lochleven double her bolts and deepen her dungeons, they
shall not retain thee. Each settlement shall give thee its as-
sistance ere thou shalt continue captive: the land shall lend
its earthquakes, the water its waves, the air its tempests, the
fire its devouring flames, to desolate this house, rather than
it shall continue the place of thy captivity. Hear this and
tremble, all ye who fight against the light, for she says it to
whom it hath been assured!"
She was silent, and the astonished physician said, "If
404
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
there was ever an energumene, or possessed demoniae, in ou¡
days, there is a devil speaking with that woman's tongue!"
Practice," said the Lady of Lochleven, recovering her
surprise—“here is all practice and imposture. To the dun-
geon with her!"
W
"Lady of Lochleven," said Mary, arising from her bed, and
coming forward with her wonted dignity, "ere you make ar-
rest on any one in our presence, hear me but one word. I have
done you some wrong: I believed you privy to the murderous
purpose of your vassal, and I deceived you in suffering you to
believe it it had taken effect. I did you wrong, Lady of Loch-
leven, for I perceive your purpose to aid me was sincere. We
tasted not of the liquid, nor are we now sick, save that we
languish for our freedom.”
"It is avowed like Mary of Scotland," said Magdalen
Græme; "and know, besides, that had the Queen drained the
draught to the dregs, it was harmless as the water from a
sainted spring. Trow ye, proud woman," she added, address-
ing herself to the Lady of Lochleven, "that I—I—would have
been the wretch to put poison in the hands of a servant or
vassal of the house of Lochleven, knowing whom that house
contained? as soon would I have furnished drugs to slay my
own daughter!"
"Am I thus bearded in mine own castle?" said the lady;
"to the dungeon with her! She shall abye what is due to the
vender of poisons and practiser of witchcrafts."
"Yet hear me for an instant, Lady of Lochleven," said
Mary; "and do you," to Magdalen, "be silent at my com-
mand. Your steward, lady, has by confession attempted my
life and those of my household, and this woman hath done
her best to save them, by furnishing him with what was
harmless, in place of the fatal drugs which he expected.
Methinks I propose to you but a fair exchange when I say I
forgive your vassal with all my heart, and leave vengeance to
God and to his conscience, so that you also forgive the bold-
ness of this woman in your presence; for we trust you do not
hold it as a crime that she substituted an innocent beverage
for the mortal poison which was to have drenched our cup?"
THE ABBOT.
405
"Heaven forefend, madam," said the lady, "that I should
account that a crime which saved the house of Douglas from
a foul breach of honour and hospitality! We have written
to our son touching our vassal's delict, and he must abide his
doom, which will most likely be death. Touching this wo-
man, her trade is damnable by Scripture, and is mortally pun-
ished by the wise laws of our ancestry: she also must abide
her doom."
"And have I then," said the Queen, "no claim on the
house of Lochleven for the wrong I have so nearly suffered
within their walls? I ask but in requital the life of a frail
aged woman, whose brain, as yourself may judge, seems
somewhat affected by years and suffering."
"If the Lady Mary," replied the inflexible Lady of Loch-
leven, "hath been menaced with wrong in the house of Doug-
las, it may be regarded as some compensation that her com-
plots have cost that house the exile of a valued son."
"Plead no more for me, my gracious sovereign," said Mag-
dalen Græme, "nor abase yourself to ask so much as a grey
hair of my head at her hands. I knew the risk at which I
served my church and my queen, and was ever prompt to pay
my poor life as the ransom. It is a comfort to think that in
slaying me, or in restraining my freedom, or even in injuring
that single grey hair, the house whose honour she boasts so
highly will have filled up the measure of their shame by the
breach of their solemn written assurance of safety.'
"" And
taking from her bosom a paper, she handed it to the Queen.
"It is a solemn assurance of safety in life and limb," said
Queen Mary, "with space to come and go, under the hand
and seal of the chamberlain of Kinross, granted to Magdalen
Græme, commonly called Mother Nicneven, in consideration
of her consenting to put herself, for the space of twenty-four
hours, if required, within the iron gate of the castle of Loch-
leven."
"Knave!" said the lady, turning to the chamberlain, “how
dared you grant her such a protection?”
"It was by your ladyship's orders, transmitted by Randal,
as he can bear witness," replied Doctor Lundin; "nay, I am
406
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Į
F
only like the pharmacopolist, who compounds the drugs after
the order of the mediciner.”
"I remember-I remember," answered the lady; "but I
meant the assurance only to be used in case, by residing in
another jurisdiction, she could not have been apprehended
under our warrant.
""
"Nevertheless," said the Queen, "the Lady of Lochleven is
bound by the action of her deputy in granting the assurance.
"Madam," replied the lady, "the house of Douglas have
never broken their safe-conduct, and never will; too deeply
did they suffer by such a breach of trust, exercised on them-
selves, when your Grace's ancestor, the second James, in de-
fiance of the rights of hospitality, and of his own written
assurance of safety, poniarded the brave Earl of Douglas with
his own hand, and within two yards of the social board at
which he had just before sat the King of Scotland's honoured
guest."
"Methinks," said the Queen, carelessly, "in consideration
of so very recent and enormous a tragedy, which I think only
chanced some six-score years agone, the Douglasses should
have shown themselves less tenacious of the company of their
sovereigns than you, Lady of Lochleven, seem to be of mine."
“Let Randal,” said the lady, "take the hag back to Kin-
ross, and set her at full liberty, discharging her from our
bounds in future, on peril of her head. And let
And let your wisdom
(to the chamberlain) keep her company. And fear not for
your character, though I send you in such company; for,
granting her to be a witch, it would be a waste of fagots to
burn you for a wizard.”
The crestfallen chamberlain was preparing to depart; but
Magdalen Græme, collecting herself, was about to reply, when
the Queen interposed, saying, Good mother, we heartily
thank you for your unfeigned zeal towards our person, and
pray you, as our liege woman, that you abstain from whatever
may lead you into personal danger; and, further, it is our
will that you depart without a word of farther parley with
any one in this castle. For thy present guerdon, take this
small reliquary; it was given to us by our uncle the Cardinal,
THE ABBOT.
407
and hath had the benediction of the Holy Father himself;
and now depart in peace and in silence. For you, learned
sir," continued the Queen advancing to the doctor, who made
his reverence in a manner doubly embarrassed, by the awe of
the Queen's presence, which made him fear to do too little,
and by the apprehension of his lady's displeasure, in case he
should chance to do too much" for you, learned sir, as it
was not your fault, though surely our own good fortune, that
we did not need your skill at this time, it would not become
us, however circumstanced, to suffer our leech to leave us
without such guerdon as we can offer."
With these words, and with the grace which never forsook
her, though, in the present case, there might lurk under it a
little gentle ridicule, she offered a small embroidered purse to
the chamberlain, who, with extended hand and arched back, his
learned face stooping until a physiognomist might have prac-
tised the metoposcopical science upon it, as seen from behind
betwixt his gambadoes, was about to accept of the professional
recompense offered by so fair as well as illustrious an hand.
But the lady interposed, and, regarding the chamberlain, said
aloud: “No servant of our house, without instantly relin-
quishing that character, and incurring withal our highest
displeasure, shall dare receive any gratuity at the hand of
the Lady Mary.”
Sadly and slowly the chamberlain raised his depressed stat-
ure into the perpendicular attitude, and left the apartment
dejectedly, followed by Magdalen Græme, after, with mute
but expressive gesture, she had kissed the reliquary with
which the Queen had presented her, and raising her clasped
hands and uplifted eyes towards Heaven, had seemed to en-
treat a benediction upon the royal dame. As she left the
castle, and went towards the quay where the boat lay, Roland
Græme, anxious to communicate with her if possible, threw
himself in her way, and might have succeeded in exchanging
a few words with her, as she was guarded only by the de-
jected chamberlain and his halberdiers, but she seemed to
have taken, in its most strict and literal acceptation, the com-
mand to be silent which she had received from the Queen;
1
408
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
for, to the repeated signs of her grandson, she only replied
by laying her finger on her lip.
Dr. Lundin was not so reserved. Regret for the handsome
gratuity, and for the compulsory task of self-denial imposed
on him, had grieved the spirit of that worthy officer and
learned mediciner. 'Even thus, my friend," said he, squeez-
ing the page's hand as he bade him farewell, "is merit re-
warded. I came to cure this unhappy lady; and I profess
she well deserves the trouble, for, say what they will of her,
she hath a most winning manner, a sweet voice, a gracious
smile, and a most majestic wave of her hand. If she was not
poisoned, say, my dear Master Roland, was that fault of mine,
I being ready to cure her if she had! and now I am denied
the permission to accept my well-earned honorarium. 0
Galen! O Hippocrates! is the graduate's cap and doctor's
scarlet brought to this pass? Frustra fatigamus remediis
ægros!
He wiped his eyes, stepped on the gunwale, and the boat
pushed off from the shore, and went merrily across the lake,
which was dimpled by the summer wind.¹
66
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Death distant? No. alas! he's ever with us,
And shakes the dart at us in all our actings:
He lurks within our cup, while we're in health;
Sits by our sick-bed, mocks our medicines;
We cannot walk, or sit, or ride, or travel,
But Death is by to seize us when he lists.
The Spanish Father.
FROM the agitating scene in the Queen's presence-chamber,
the Lady of Lochleven retreated to her own apartment, and
ordered the steward to be called before her.
"Have they not disarmed thee, Dryfesdale?" she said, on
seeing him enter, accoutred, as usual, with sword and dagger.
"No!" replied the old man; "how should they? Your
ladyship, when you commanded me to ward, said naught of
¹ See Supposed Conspiracy against the Life of Mary. Note 22.
THE ABBOT.
409
laying down my arms; and, I think, none of your menials,
without your order or your son's, dare approach Jasper Dry-
fesdale for such a purpose. Shall I now give up my sword to
you? It is worth little now, for it has fought for your house
till it is worn down to old iron, like the pantler's old chipping
knife."
"You have attempted a deadly crime-poison under trust."
"Under trust-hem! I know not what your ladyship
thinks of it, but the world without thinks the trust was given
you even for that very end; and you would have been well off
had it been so ended as I proposed, and you neither the
worse nor the wiser.
22
"Wretch!" exclaimed the lady, "and fool as well as villain,
who could not even execute the crime he had planned!"
"I bid as fair for it as man could," replied Dryesdale. "I
went to a woman-a witch and a Papist. If I found not poi-
son, it was because it was otherwise predestined. I tried fair
for it; but the half-done job may be clouted, if you will."
“Villain! I am even now about to send off an express mes-
senger to my son, to take order how thou shouldst be disposed
of. Prepare thyself for death, if thou canst.”
"He that looks on death, lady," answered Dryfesdale, "as
that which he may not shun, and which has its own fixed and
certain hour, is ever prepared for it. He that is hanged in
May will eat no flaunes in midsummer-so there is the moan
made for the old serving-man. But whom, pray I, send you
on so fair an errand?”
"There will be no lack of messengers," answered his mis-
tress.
((
"By my hand, but there will," replied the old man : your
castle is but poorly manned, considering the watches that you
must keep, having this charge. There is the warder and two
others whom you discarded for tampering with Master George;
then for the warder's tower, the bailie, the donjon-five men
mount each guard, and the rest must sleep for the most part
in their clothes. To send away another man were to harass
the sentinels to death-unthrifty misuse for a household.
To take in new soldiers were dangerous, the charge requiring
410
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
tried men. I see but one thing for it: I will do your errand
to Sir William Douglas myself."
"That were indeed a resource! And on what day within
twenty years would it be done?" said the lady.
"Even with the speed of man and horse," said Dryfesdale;
"for though I care not much about the latter days of an old
serving-man's life, yet I would like to know as soon as may
be whether my neck is mine own or the hangman's."
"Holdest thou thy own life so lightly?" said the lady.
"Else I had recked more of that of others," said the pre-
destinarian. "What is death? it is but ceasing to live. And
what is living? a weary return of light and darkness, sleep-
ing and waking, being hungered and eating. Your dead man
needs neither candle nor can, neither fire nor feather-bed; and
the joiner's chest serves him for an eternal frieze jerkin.”
"Wretched man! believest thou not that after death comes
the judgment?”
"Lady," answered Dryfesdale, "as my mistress, I may not
dispute your words; but, as spiritually speaking, you are still
but a burner of bricks in Egypt, ignorant of the freedom of
the saints; for, as was well shown to me by that gifted man,
Nicolaus Schöfferbach, who was martyred by the bloody Bishop
of Münster, he cannot sin who doth but execute that which is
predestined, since--"
"Silence!" said the lady, interrupting him. Answer me
not with thy bold and presumptuous blasphemy, but hear me.
Thou hast been long the servant of our house-
""
"The born servant of the Douglas; they have had the best
of me: I served them since I left Lockerbie. I was then ten
years old, and you may soon add the threescore to it.”
"Thy foul attempt has miscarried, so thou art guilty only
in intention. It were a deserved deed to hang thee on the
warder's tower; and yet, in thy present mind, it were but
giving a soul to Satan. I take thine offer, then. Go hence;
here is my packet; I will add to it but a line, to desire him
to send me a faithful servant or two to complete the garrison.
Let my son deal with you as he will. If thou art wise, thou
wilt make for Lockerbie so soon as thy foot.touches dry land,
J
66
THE ABBOT.
411
and let the packet find another bearer; at all rates, look it
miscarries not."
""
"Nay, madam," replied he, "I was born, as I said, the
Douglas's servant, and I will be no corbie-messenger in mine
old age: your message to your son shall be done as truly by
me as if it concerned another man's neck.
of your honour."
I take
I take my leave
The lady issued her commands, and the old man was fer-
ried over to the shore, to proceed on his extraordinary pil-
grimage. It is necessary the reader should accompany him
on his journey, which Providence had determined should not
be of long duration.
-
On arriving at the village, the steward, although his dis-
grace had transpired, was readily accommodated with a horse,
by the chamberlain's authority; and the roads being by no
means esteemed safe, he associated himself with Auchter-
muchty, the common carrier, in order to travel in his company
to Edinburgh.
The worthy waggoner, according to the established custom
of all carriers, stage-coachmen, and other persons in such
public authority, from the earliest days to the present, never
wanted good reasons for stopping upon the road as often as
he would; and the place which had most captivation for him
as a resting-place was a change-house, as it was termed, not
very distant from a romantic dell, well known by the name
of Keiry Craigs. Attractions of a kind very different from
those which arrested the progress of John Auchtermuchty and
his wains still continue to hover round this romantic spot,
and none has visited its vicinity without desire to remain long
and to return soon.
Arrived near his favorite "howff," not all the authority of
Dryfesdale, much diminished indeed by the rumours of his
disgrace, could prevail on the carrier, obstinate as the brutes
which he drove, to pass on without his accustomed halt, for
which the distance he had travelled furnished little or no
pretence. Old Keltie, the landlord, who has bestowed hist
name on a bridge in the neighborhood of his quondam dwell-
ing, received the carrier with his usual festive cordiality, and
412
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
adjourned with him into the house, under pretence of impor
tant business, which, I believe, consisted in their emptying to-
gether a mutchkin stoup of usquebaugh. While the worthy
host and his guest were thus employed, the discarded stew-
ard, with a double portion of moroseness in his gesture and
look, walked discontentedly into the kitchen of the place,
which was occupied but by one guest. The stranger was a
slight figure, scarce above the age of boyhood, and in the
dress of a page, but bearing an air of haughty aristocratic
boldness, and even insolence, in his look and manner that
might have made Dryfesdale conclude he had pretensions to
superior rank, had not his experience taught him how fre-
quently these airs of superiority were assumed by the do-
mestics and military retainers of the Scottish nobility. "The
pilgrim's morning to you, old sir," said the youth; "you
come, as I think, from Lochleven Castle. What news of
our bonny Queen? A fairer dove was never pent up in so
wretched a dovecot!"
"They that speak of Lochleven, and of those whom its
walls contain," answered Dryfesdale, "speak of what concerns
the Douglas; and they who speak of what concerns the Doug-
las do it at their peril."
"Do you speak from fear of them, old man, or would you
make a quarrel for them? I should have deemed your age
might have cooled your blood."
66
-
Never, while there are empty-pated coxcombs at each cor-
ner to keep it warm.
22
"The sight of thy grey hairs keeps mine cold,” said the
boy, who had risen up and now sat down again.
'It is well for thee, or I had cooled it with this holly rod,"
replied the steward. "I think thou be'st one of those swash-
bucklers, who brawl in ale-houses and taverns; and who, if
words were pikes, and oaths were Andrew Ferraras, would
soon place the religion of Babylon in the land once more, and
the woman of Moab upon the throne.
""
"Now, by St. Bennet of Seyton," said the youth, “I will
strike thee on the face, thou foul-mouthed old railing heretic!”
"St. Bennet of Seyton!" echoed the steward; "a proper
THE ABBOT.
413
warrant is St. Bennet's, and for a proper nest of wolf-birds
like the Seytons! I will arrest thee as a traitor to King
James and the good Regent. Ho! John Auchtermuchty,
raise aid against the king's traitor!"
So saying, he laid his hand on the youth's collar, and drew
his sword. John Auchtermuchty looked in, but, seeing the
naked weapon, ran faster out than he entered. Keltie, the
landlord, stood by and helped neither party, only exclaiming,
"Gentlemen!-gentlemen! for the love of Heaven!" and so
forth. A struggle ensued, in which the young man, chafed
at Dryfesdale's boldness, and unable, with the ease he ex-
pected, to extricate himself from the old man's determined
grasp, drew his dagger, and, with the speed of light, dealt
him three wounds in the breast and body, the least of which
was mortal. The old man sunk on the ground with a deep
groan, and the host set up a piteous exclamation of surprise.
C
(6
"Peace, ye bawling hound!" said the wounded steward;
are dagger-stabs and dying men such rarities in Scotland
that you should cry as if the house were falling? Youth, I
do not forgive thee, for there is nought betwixt us to forgive.
Thou hast done what I have done to more than one; and I
suffer what I have seen them suffer: it was all ordained to
be thus and not otherwise. But if thou wouldst do me right,
thou wilt send this packet safely to the hands of Sir William
of Douglas; and see that my memory suffer not, as if I would
have loitered on mine errand for fear of my life."
The youth, whose passion had subsided the instant he had
done the deed, listened with sympathy and attention, when
another person, muffled in his cloak, entered the apartment,
and exclaimed: "Good God! Dryfesdale, and expiring!"
"Ay, and Dryfesdale would that he had been dead," an-
swered the wounded man, "rather than that his ears had
heard the words of the only Douglas that ever was false; but
yet it is better as it is. Good my murderer, and the rest of
you, stand back a little, and let me speak with this unhappy
apostate. Kneel down by me, Master George. You have
heard that I failed in my attempt to take away that Moabit-
ish stumbling-block and her retinue? I gave them that which
414
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
I thought would have removed the temptation out of thy path;
and this, though I had other reasons to show to thy mother
and others, I did chiefly purpose for love of thee."
"For the love of me, base poisoner!" answered Douglas,
"wouldst thou have committed so horrible, so unprovoked a
murder, and mentioned my name with it?”
"And wherefore not, George of Douglas?" answered Dry-
fesdale. "Breath is now scarce with me, but I would spend
my last gasp on this argument. Hast thou not, despite the
honour thou owest to thy parents, the faith that is due to
thy religion, the truth that is due to thy king, been so carried
away by the charms of this beautiful sorceress, that thou
wouldst have helped her to escape from her prison-house, and
lent her thine arm again to ascend the throne, which she had
made a place of abomination? Nay, stir not from me-my
hand, though fast stiffening, has yet force enough to hold
thee. What does thou aim at---to wed this witch of Scot-
land? I warrant thee, thou mayest succeed: her heart and
hand have been oft won at a cheaper rate than thou, fool that
thou art, would think thyself happy to pay. But, should a
servant of thy father's house have seen thee embrace the fate
of the idiot Darnley, or of the villain Bothwell the fate of
the murdered fool, or of the living pirate-while an ounce
of ratsbane would have saved thee?"
"Think on God, Dryfesdale," said
leave the utterance of those horrors.
if not, at least be silent. Seyton, aid me to support this
dying wretch, that he may compose himself to better thoughts,
if it be possible."
George Douglas, “and
Repent if thou canst;
"Seyton!" answered the dying man-" Seyton! Is it by a
Seyton's hand that I fall at last? There is something of
retribution in that, since the house had nigh lost a sister by
my deed." Fixing his fading eyes on the youth, he added:
66 'He hath her very features and presence! Stoop down,
youth, and let me see thee closer: I would know thee when
we meet in yonder world, for homicides will herd together
there, and I have been one." He pulled Seyton's face, in
spite of some resistance, closer to his own, looked at him
THE ABBOT.
415
fixedly, and added: "Thou hast begun young; thy career will
be the briefer-ay, thou wilt be met with, and that anon; a
young plant never throve that was watered with an old man's
blood. Yet why blame I thee? Strange turns of fate," he
muttered, ceasing to address Seyton, "I designed what I could
not do, and he has done what he did not perchance design.
Wondrous, that our will should ever oppose itself to the strong
and uncontrollable tide of destiny-that we should strive with
the stream when we might drift with the current! My brain
will serve me to question it no farther. I would Schöfferbach
were here. Yet why? I am on a course which the vessel
can hold without a pilot. Farewell, George of Douglas; I
die true to thy father's house." He fell into convulsions at
these words, and shortly after expired.
Seyton and Douglas stood looking on the dying man, and
when the scene was closed, the former was the first to speak.
"As I live, Douglas, I meant not this, and am sorry; but he
laid hands on me, and compelled me to defend my freedom,
as I best might, with my dagger. If he were ten times thy
friend and follower, I can but say that I am sorry."
"I blame thee not, Seyton," said Douglas, "though I lament
the chance. There is an overruling destiny above us, though
not in the sense in which it was viewed by that wretched
man, who, beguiled by some foreign mystagogue, used the
awful word as the ready apology for whatever he chose to
do. We must examine the packet."
They withdrew into an inner room, and remained deep in
consultation, until they were disturbed by the entrance of
Keltie, who, with an embarrassed countenance, asked Master
George Douglas's pleasure respecting the disposal of the
body. "Your honour knows," he added, "that I make my
bread by living men, not by dead corpses; and old Mr. Dry-
fesdale, who was but a sorry customer while he was alive,
occupies my public room now that he is deceased, and can
neither call for ale nor brandy.
ور
"Tie a stone round his neck," said Seyton, "and when the
sun is down, have him to the Loch of Ore, heave him in, and
let him alone for finding out the bottom."
416
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Under your favour, sir,” said George Douglas, "it shall
not be so. Keltie, thou art a true fellow to me, and thy hav-
ing been so shall advantage thee. Send or take the body to
the chapel at Scotland Well, or to the church of Ballingry,
and tell what tale thou wilt of his having fallen in a brawl
with some unruly guests of thine. Auchtermuchty knows not
else, nor are the times so peaceful as to admit close looking
into such accounts."
"Nay, let him tell the truth," said Seyton, "so far as it
harms not our scheme. Say that Henry Seyton met with him,
my good fellow. I care not a brass boddle for the feud.”
"A feud with the Douglas was ever to be feared, however,"
said George, displeasure mingling with his natural deep grav-
ity of manner.
"Not when the best of the name is on my side," replied
Seytón.
“Alas! Henry, if thou meanest me, I am but half a Doug-
las in this emprize-half head, half heart, and half hand.
But I will think on one who can never be forgotten, and be
all or more than any of my ancestors was ever.
Keltie, say
it was Henry Seyton did the deed; but beware, not a word
of me! Let Auchtermuchty carry this packet (which he had
resealed with his own signet) to my father at Edinburgh; and
here is to pay for the funeral expenses and thy loss of
custom."
"And the washing of the floor," said the landlord, "which
will be an extraordinary job; for blood, they say, will scarcely
ever cleanse out.
""
"But as for your plan," said George of Douglas, addressing
Seyton, as if in continuation of what they had been before
treating of, "it has good face; but, under your favour, you
are yourself too hot and too young, besides other reasons
which are much against your playing the part you propose."
"We will consult the father abbot upon it," said the youth.
"Do you ride to Kinross to-night?"
(6
'Ay, so I purpose," answered Douglas; "the night will be
dark, and suits a muffled man.' Keltie, I forgot, there should
See Note 23.
THE ABBOT.
417
be a stone laid on that man's grave, recording his name, and
his only merit, which was being a faithful servant to the
Douglas."
"What religion was the man of?" said Seyton; "he used
words which made me fear I have sent Satan a subject before
his time."
"I can tell you little of that," said George Douglas; "he
was noted for disliking both Rome and Geneva, and spoke of
lights he had learned among the fierce sectaries of Lower Ger-
many; an evil doctrine it was, if we judge by the fruits. God
keep us from presumptuously judging of Heaven's secrets!"
"Amen!" said the young Seyton, "and from meeting any
encounter this evening."
"It is not thy wont to pray so," said George Douglas.
"No! I leave that to you," replied the youth, "when you
are seized with scruples of engaging with your father's vas-
sals. But I would fain have this old man's blood off these
hands of mine ere I shed more. I will confess to the abbot
to-night, and I trust to have light penance for ridding the
earth of such a miscreant. All I sorrow for is, that he was
not a score of years younger. He drew steel first, however,
that is one comfort.' ""
CHAPTER XXXV.
Ay, Pedro. Come you here with mask and lantern,
Ladder of ropes and other moonshine tools?
Why, youngster, thou mayst cheat the old duenna,
Flatter the waiting-woman, bribe the valet;
But know, that I her father play the gryphon,
Tameless and sleepless, proof to fraud or bribe,
And guard the hidden treasure of her beauty.
The Spanish Father.
THE tenor of our tale carries us back to the Castle of Loch-
leven, where we take up the order of events on the same re-
markable day on which Dryfesdale had been dismissed from
the castle. It was past noon, the usual hour of dinner, yet
no preparations seemed made for the Queen's entertainment.
27
418
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Mary herself had retired into her own apartment, where she
was closely engaged in writing. Her attendants were together
in the presence-chamber, and much disposed to speculate on
the delay of the dinner; for it may be recollected that their
breakfast had been interrupted. "I believe in my con-
.
science," said the page, "that, having found the poisoning
scheme miscarry, by having gone to the wrong merchant for
their deadly wares, they are now about to try how famine will
work upon us."
Lady Fleming was somewhat alarmed at the surmise, but
comforted herself by observing, that the chimney of the
kitchen had reeked that whole day in a manner which con-
tradicted the supposition. Catherine Seyton presently ex-
claimed, “They were bearing the dishes across the court, mar-
shalled by the Lady Lochleven herself, dressed out in her
highest and stiffest ruff, with her partlet and sleeves of
cyprus, and her huge old-fashioned farthingale of crimson
velvet."
"I believe, on my word," said the page, approaching the
window also, "it was in that very farthingale that she capti-
vated the heart of gentle King Jamie, which procured our poor
Queen her precious bargain of a brother.
"That may hardly be, Master Roland," answered the Lady
Fleming, who was a great recorder of the changes of fashion,
"since the farthingales came first in when the Queen Regent
went to St. Andrews, after the battle of Pinkie, and were
then called vertu-gardins____"}
She would have proceeded farther in this important discus-
sion, but was interrupted by the entrance of the Lady of Loch-
leven, who preceded the servants bearing the dishes, and
formally discharged the duty of tasting each of them. Lady
Fleming regretted, in courtly phrase, that the Lady of Loch-
leven should have undertaken so troublesome an office.
"After the strange incident of this day, madam," said
the lady, "it is necessary for my honour and that of my
son that I partake whatever is offered to my involuntary
guest. Please to inform the Lady Mary that I attend her
commands."
THE ABBOT.
419
"Her Majesty," replied Lady Fleming, with due emphasis
on the word, "shall be informed that the Lady Lochleven
waits."
Mary appeared instantly, and addressed her hostess with
courtesy, which even approached to something more cordial.
"This is nobly done, Lady Lochleven," she said; "for, though
we ourselves apprehend no danger under your roof, our ladies
have been much alarmed by this morning's chance, and our
meal will be the more cheerful for your presence and assur-
ance. Please you to sit down."
-
The Lady Lochleven obeyed the Queen's commands, and
Roland performed the office of carver and attendant as usual.
But, notwithstanding what the Queen had said, the meal was
silent and unsocial; and every effort which Mary made to ex-
cite some conversation died away under the solemn and chill
replies of the Lady of Lochleven. At length it became plain
that the Queen, who had considered these advances as a con-
descension on her part, and who piqued herself justly on her
powers of pleasing, became offended at the repulsive conduct
of her hostess. After looking with a significant glance at
Lady Fleming and Catherine, she slightly shrugged her
shoulders and remained silent. A pause ensued, at the end
of which the Lady Douglas spoke: "I perceive, madam, I am
a check on the mirth of this fair company. I pray you to ex-
cuse me; I am a widow-alone here in a most perilous charge,
deserted by my grandson, betrayed by my servant; I am little
worthy of the grace you do me in offering me a seat at your
table, where I am aware that wit and pastime are usually ex-
pected from the guests."
-
"If the Lady Lochleven is serious," said the Queen, "we
wonder by what simplicity she expects our present meals to
be seasoned with mirth. If she is a widow, she lives honoured
and uncontrolled at the head of her late husband's household.
But I know at least of one widowed woman in the world before
whom the words 'desertion' and 'betrayal' ought never to be
mentioned, since no one has been made so bitterly acquainted
with their import.
"
"I meant not, madam, to remind you of your misfortunes
420
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
by the mention of mine," answered the Lady Lochleven, and
there was again a deep silence.
Mary at length addressed Lady Fleming. "We can commit
no deadly sins here, ma bonne, where we are so well warded
and looked to; but if we could, this Carthusian silence might
be useful as a kind of penance. If thou hast adjusted my
wimple amiss, my Fleming, or if Catherine hath made a wry
stitch in her broidery when she was thinking of something else
than her work, or if Roland Græme hath missed a wild duck
on the wing, and broke a quarrell-pane of glass in the turret
window, as chanced to him a week since, now is the time to
think on your sins and to repent of them."
"Madam, I speak with all reverence," said the Lady Loch-
leven; "but I am old, and claim the privilege of age. Me-
thinks your followers might find fitter subjects for repentance
than the trifles you mention, and so mention-once more, I
crave your pardon-as if you jested with sin and repentance
both."
"You have been our taster, Lady Lochleven," said the
Queen, "I perceive you would eke out your duty with that of
our father confessor; and since you choose that our conversa-
tion should be serious, may I ask you why the Regent's prom-
ise—since your son so styles himself—has not been kept to me
in that respect? From time to time, this promise has been
renewed, and as constantly broken. Methinks those who pre-
tend themselves to so much gravity and sanctity should not
debar from others the religious succours which their con-
sciences require."
"Madam, the Earl of Murray was indeed weak enough,
said the Lady Lochleven, "to give so far way to your unhappy
prejudices, and a religioner of the Pope presented himself on
his part at our town of Kinross. But the Douglas is lord of
his own castle, and will not permit his threshold to be dark-
ened, no, not for a single moment, by an emissary belonging
to the Bishop of Rome."
"Methinks it were well, then," said Mary, "that my Lord
Regent would send me where there is less scruple and more
charity."
"2
THE ABBOT.
421
"In this, madam," answered the Lady Lochleven, "you
mistake the nature both of charity and of religion. Charity
giveth to those who are in delirium the medicaments which
may avail their health, but refuses those enticing cates and
liquors which please the palate but augment the disease."
"This your charity, Lady Lochleven, is pure cruelty under
the hypocritical disguise of friendly care. I am oppressed
amongst you as if you meant the destruction both of my body
and soul; but Heaven will not endure such iniquity for ever,
and they who are the most active agents in it may speedily
expect their reward.
""
At this moment Randal entered the apartment, with a look
so much perturbed that the Lady Fleming uttered a faint
scream, the Queen was obviously startled, and the Lady of
Lochleven, though too bold and proud to evince any marked
signs of alarm, asked hastily what was the matter.
"Dryfesdale has been slain, madam," was the reply-
"murdered as soon as he gained the dry land by young Master
Henry. Seyton,
""
It was now Catherine's turn to start and grow pale.
"Has
the murderer of the Douglas's vassal escaped?" was the lady's
hasty question.
"There was none to challenge him but Old Keltie and the
carrier Auchtermuchty," replied Randal, "unlikely men to
stay one of the frackest youths in Scotland of his years, and
who was sure to have friends and partakers at no great dis-
tance.
""
"Was the deed completed?" said the lady.
"Done, and done thoroughly," said Randal: "a Seyton
seldom strikes twice. But the body was not despoiled, and
your honour's packet goes forward to Edinburgh by Auchter-
muchty, who leaves Keltie Bridge early to-morrow; marry,
he has drunk two bottles of aquavitæ to put the fright out of
his head, and now sleeps them off beside his cart-avers."
There was a pause when this fatal tale was told. The
Queen and Lady Douglas looked on each other, as if each
thought how she could best turn the incident to her own ad-
vantage in the controversy which was continually kept alive
422
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
betwixt them. Catherine Seyton kept her kerchief at her eyes
and wept.
66
'You see, madam, the bloody maxims and practice of the
deluded Papists," said Lady Lochleven.
""
"Nay, madam,” replied the Queen, "say rather you see the
deserved judgment of Heaven upon a Calvinistical poisoner.
"Dryfesdale was not of the Church of Geneva or of Scot-
land," said the Lady Lochleven, hastily.
"He was a heretic, however," replied Mary. "There is
but one true and unerring guide; the others lead alike into
error."
“Well, madam, I trust it will reconcile you to your retreat
that this deed shows the temper of those who might wish you
at liberty. Bloodthirsty tyrants and cruel man-quellers are
they all, from the Clan Randal and Clan Tosach in the north
to the Fernieherst and Buccleuch in the south, the murdering
Seytons in the east, and-"
Methinks, madam, you forget that I am a Seyton?” said
Catherine, withdrawing her kerchief from her face, which was
now coloured with indignation.
"If I had forgot it, fair mistress, your forward bearing
would have reminded me," said Lady Lochleven.
"If my brother has slain the villain that would have poisoned
his sovereign and his sister," said Catherine, "I am only so far
sorry that he should have spared the hangman his proper task.
For aught further, had it been the best Douglas in the land,
he would have been honoured in falling by the Seyton's
sword.”
"Farewell, gay mistress," said the Lady of Lochleven, ris-
ing to withdraw; "it is such maidens as you who make giddy-
fashioned revellers and deadly brawlers. Boys must needs
rise, forsooth, in the grace of some sprightly damsel, who
thinks to dance through life as through a French galliard."
She then made her reverence to the Queen, and added: "Do
you also, madam, fare you well till curfew time, when I will
make, perchance, more bold than welcome in attending upon
your supper board. Come with me, Randal, and tell me more
of this cruel fact."
THE ABBOT.
423
""Tis an extraordinary chance," said the Queen, when she
had departed; "and, villain as he was, I would this man had
been spared time for repentance. We will cause something
to be done for his soul, if we ever attain our liberty, and the
church will permit such grace to an heretic. But, tell me,
Catherine, ma mignonne-this brother of thine, who is so
'frack,' as the fellow called him, bears he the same wonderful
likeness to thee as formerly?"
“If your Grace means in temper, you know whether I am
so frack as the serving-man spoke him."
"Nay, thou art prompt enough in all reasonable conscience,”
replied the Queen; "but thou art my own darling notwith-
standing. But I meant, is this thy twin-brother as like thee
in form and features as formerly? I remember thy dear
mother alleged it as a reason for destining thee to the veil
that, were ye both to go at large, thou wouldst surely get the
credit of some of thy brother's mad pranks."
"I believe, madam," said Catherine, "there are some un-
usually simple people even yet who can hardly distinguish be-
twixt us, especially when, for diversion's sake, my brother
hath taken a female dress," and, as she spoke, she gave a
quick glance at Roland Græme, to whom this conveyed a ray
of light welcome as ever streamed into the dungeon of a cap-
tive through the door which opened to give him freedom.
"He must be a handsome cavalier this brother of thine, if
he be so like you," replied Mary. "He was in France, I
think, for these late years, so that I saw him not at Holy-
rood.'
""
"His looks, madam, have never been much found fault
with," answered Catherine Seyton; "but I would he had less
of that angry and heady spirit which evil times have encour-
aged amongst our young nobles. God knows, I grudge not
his life in your Grace's quarrel, and love him for the willing-
ness with which he labours for your rescue. But wherefore
should he brawl with an old ruffianly serving-man, and stain
at once his name with such a broil and his hands with the
blood of an old and ignoble wretch?”
66
"Nay, be patient, Catherine; I will not have thee traduce
424
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
my gallant young knight. With Henry for my knight, and
Roland Græme for my trusty squire, methinks I am like a
princess of romance, who may shortly set at defiance the dun-
geon and the weapons of all wicked sorcerers. But my head
aches with the agitation of the day. Take me La Mer des
Histoires, and resume where we left off on Wednesday. Our
Lady help thy head, girl, or rather may she help thy heart!
I asked thee for the Sea of Histories, and thou hast brought
La Cronique d'Amour!"
Once embarked upon the Sea of Histories, the Queen con-
tinued her labours with her needle, while Lady Fleming and
Catherine read to her alternately for two hours.
As to Roland Græme, it is probable that he continued in
secret intent upon the Chronicle of Love, notwithstanding the
censure which the Queen seemed to pass upon that branch of
study. He now remembered a thousand circumstances of
voice and manner, which, had his own prepossession been
less, must surely have discriminated the brother from the sis-
ter; and he felt ashamed that, having as it were by heart
every particular of Catherine's gestures, words, and manners,
he should have thought her, notwithstanding her spirits and
levity, capable of assuming the bold step, loud tones, and for-
ward assurance which accorded well enough with her brother's
hasty and masculine character. He endeavoured repeatedly
to catch a glance of Catherine's eye, that he might judge how
she was disposed to look upon him since he had made the dis-
covery, but he was unsuccessful; for Catherine, when she was
not reading herself, seemed to take so much interest in the
exploits of the Teutonic Knights against the heathens of Es-
thonia and Livonia, that he could not surprise her eye even
for a second. But when, closing the book, the Queen com-
manded their attendance in the garden, Mary, perhaps of set
purpose (for Roland's anxiety could not escape so practised an
observer), afforded him a favourable opportunity of accosting
his mistress. The Queen commanded them to a little dis-
tance, while she engaged Lady Fleming in a particular and
private conversation; the subject whereof, we learn from
another authority, to have been the comparative excellence of
O
THE ABBOT.
425
the high standing ruff and the falling band. Roland must
have been duller and more sheepish than ever was youthful
lover if he had not endeavoured to avail himself of this op-
portunity.
"I have been longing this whole evening to ask of you, fair
Catherine," said the page, "how foolish and apprehensive you
must have thought me, in being capable to mistake betwixt
your brother and you?"
"The circumstance does indeed little honour to my rustic
manners,” said Catherine, "since those of a wild young man
were so readily mistaken for mine. But I shall grow wiser
in time; and with that view I am determined not to think of
your follies, but to correct my own.
"It will be the lighter subject of meditation of the two,"
said Roland.
"2
“I know not that," said Catherine, very gravely; “I fear
we have been both unpardonably foolish."
""
"I have been mad," said Roland-"unpardonably mad.
But you, lovely Catherine-
"I," said Catherine, in the same tone of unusual gravity,
"have too long suffered you to use such expressions towards
me. I fear I can permit it no longer, and I blame myself for
the pain it may give you.'
""
"And what can have happened so suddenly to change our
relation to each other, or alter, with such sudden cruelty, your
whole deportment to me?"
"I can hardly tell," replied Catherine, "unless it is that
the events of the day have impressed on my mind the neces-
sity of our observing more distance to each other. A chance
similar to that which betrayed to you the existence of my
brother may make known to Henry the terms you have used
to me; and, alas! his whole conduct, as well as his deed this
day, makes me too justly apprehensive of the consequences.
Nay, fear nothing for that, fair Catherine," answered the
page, “I am well able to protect myself against risks of that
nature."
22
(6
"That is to say," replied she, "that you would fight with
my twin-brother to show your regard for his sister? I have
426
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
heard the Queen say, in her sad hours, that men are, in love
or in hate, the most selfish animals of creation; and your care-
lessness in this matter looks very like it. But be not so much
abashed; you are no worse than others."
"You do me injustice, Catherine," replied the page, "I
thought but of being threatened with a sword, and did not
remember in whose hand your fancy had placed it. If your
brother stood before me, with his drawn weapon in his hand,
so like as he is to you in word, person, and favour, he might
shed my life's blood ere I could find in my heart to resist him
to his injury."
But you
"Alas!" said she, "it is not my brother alone.
remember only the singular circumstances in which we have
met in equality, and I may say in intimacy. You think not
that, whenever I re-enter my father's house, there is a gulf
between us you may not pass but with peril of your life.
Your only known relation is of wild and singular habits, of a
hostile and broken clan, the rest of your lineage unknown;
forgive me that I speak what is the undeniable truth."
"Love, my beautiful Catherine, despises genealogies," an-
swered Roland Græme.
66 Love may, but so will not the Lord Seyton," rejoined the
damsel.
66
"The Queen, thy mistress and mine, she will intercede.
Oh! drive me not from you at the moment I thought myself
most happy! And if I shall aid her deliverance, said not
yourself that you and she would become my debtors?”
"All Scotland will become your debtors," said Catherine.
"But for the active effects you might hope from our gratitude,
you must remember I am wholly subjected to my father; and
the poor Queen is, for a long time, more likely to be depend-
ent on the pleasure of the nobles of her party than possessed
of power to control them."
66
'Be it so,” replied Roland; "my deeds shall control preju-
dice itself: it is a bustling world, and I will have my share.
The Knight of Avenel, high as he now stands, rose from as
obscure an origin as mine."
"Ay," said Catherine, "there spoke the doughty knight of
THE ABBOT.
427
romance, that will cut his way to the imprisoned princess
through fiends and fiery dragons!"
"But if I can set the princess at large, and procure her the
freedom of her own choice," said the page, "where, dearest
Catherine, will that choice alight?"
"Release the princess from duresse, and she will tell you,"
said the damsel; and, breaking off the conversation abruptly,
she joined the Queen so suddenly that Mary exclaimed, half-
aloud:
No more tidings of evil import—no dissension, I trust, in
my limited household?" Then looking on Catherine's blush-
ing cheek and Roland's expanded brow and glancing eye-
"No-no," she said, "I see all is well. Ma petite mignonne,
go to my apartment and fetch me down-let me see-ay, fetch
my pomander box."
And having thus disposed of her attendant in the manner
best qualified to hide her confusion, the Queen added, speak-
ing apart to Roland, "I should at least have two grateful sub-
jects of Catherine and you; for what sovereign but Mary
would aid true love so willingly? Ay, you lay your hand on
your sword-your petite flamberge à rien there. Well, short
time will show if all the good be true that is protested to us.
I hear them toll curfew from Kinross. To our chamber; this
old dame hath promised to be with us again at our evening
meal. Were it not for the hope of speedy deliverance, her
presence would drive me distracted. But I will be patient."
"I profess," said Catherine, who just then entered, “I
would I could be Henry, with all a man's privileges, for one
moment: I long to throw my plate at that confect of pride,
and formality, and ill-nature!"
The Lady Fleming reprimanded her young companion for
this explosion of impatience, the Queen laughed, and they
went to the presence-chamber, where almost immediately en-
tered supper and the lady of the castle. The Queen, strong
in her prudent resolutions, endured her presence with great
fortitude and equanimity, until her patience was disturbed by
a new form, which had hitherto made no part of the ceremo-
nial of the castle. When the other attendant had retired,
428
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
I
Randal entered, bearing the keys of the castle fastened upon
a chain, and, announcing that the watch was set and the gates
locked, delivered the keys with all reverence to the Lady of
Lochleven.
The Queen and her ladies exchanged with each other a look
of disappointment, anger, and vexation; and Mary said aloud:
"We cannot regret the smallness of our court, when we see
our hostess discharge in person so many of its offices. In
addition to her charges of principal steward of our household
and grand almoner, she has to-night done duty as captain of
our guard."
"And will continue to do so in future, madam,” answered
the Lady Lochleven, with much gravity; "the history of Scot-
land may teach me how ill the duty is performed which is
done by an accredited deputy. We have heard, madam, of
favourites of later date, and as little merit, as Oliver Sin-
clair."
"Oh, madam," replied the Queen, "my father had his fe-
male as well as his male favourites: there were the Ladies
Sandilands and Olifaunt, and some others, methinks; but
their names cannot survive in the memory of so grave a person
as you."
The Lady Lochleven looked as if she could have slain the
Queen on the spot, but commanded her temper, and retired
from the apartment, bearing in her hand the ponderous bunch
of keys.
"Now God be praised for that woman's youthful frailty!"
said the Queen. "Had she not that weak point in her char-
acter, I might waste my words on her in vain. But that stain
is the very reverse of what is said of the witch's mark: I can
make her feel there, though she is otherwise insensible all
over. But how say you, girls-here is a new difficulty.
How are these keys to be come by? There is no deceiving
or bribing this dragon, I trow."
"May I crave to know," said Roland, "whether, if your
Grace were beyond the walls of the castle, you could find
¹ The names of these ladies, and a third frail favourite of James, are pre
served in an epigram too gaillard for quotation.
THE ABBOT.
429
1
means of conveyance to the firm land, and protection when
you are there?"
"Trust us for that, Roland," said the Queen; "for to that
point our scheme is indifferent well laid."
"Then, if your Grace will permit me to speak my mind, I
think I could be of some use in this matter.
""
"As how, my good youth? Speak on," said the Queen,
"and fearlessly."
"My patron, the Knight of Avenel, used to compel the
youth educated in his household to learn the use of axe and
hammer, and working in wood and iron; he used to speak of
old northern champions who forged their own weapons, and of
the Highland captain, Donald nan Ord, or Donald of the
Hammer, whom he himself knew, and who used to work at
the anvil with a sledge-hammer in each hand. Some said he
praised this art because he was himself of churl's blood.
However, I gained some practice in it, as the Lady Catherine
Seyton partly knows; for since we were here I wrought her a
silver brooch."
"Ay," replied Catherine, "but you should tell her Grace
that your workmanship was so indifferent that it broke to
pieces next day, and I flung it away.
""
"Believe her not, Roland," said the Queen; "she wept
when it was broken, and put the fragments into her bosom.
But for your scheme-could your skill avail to forge a second
set of keys?"
“No, madam, because I know not the wards. But I am
convinced I could make a set so like that hateful bunch which
the lady bore off even now, that, could they be exchanged
against them by any means, she would never dream she was
possessed of the wrong."
"And the good dame, thank Heaven, is somewhat blind,’
said the Queen; "but then for a forge, my boy, and the means
of labouring unobserved?"
"The armourer's forge, at which I used sometimes to work
with him, is the round vault at the bottom of the turret; he
was dismissed with the warder for being supposed too much
attached to George Douglas. The people are accustomed to
430
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
see me busy there, and I warrant I shall find some excuse
that will pass current with them for putting bellows and anvil
to work."
"The scheme has a promising face," said the Queen; "about
it, my lad, with all speed, and beware the nature of your work
is not discovered."
(6
Nay, I will take the liberty to draw the bolt against chance
visitors, so that I will have time to put away what I am work-
ing upon before I undo the door.”
66
'Will not that of itself attract suspicion, in a place where
it is so current already?" said Catherine.
"Not a whit," replied Roland; "Gregory the armourer, and
every good hammerman, locks himself in when he is about
some masterpiece of craft. Besides, something must be risked."
"Part we then to-night," said the Queen, "and God bless
you, my children! If Mary's head ever rises above water,
you shall all rise along with her.”
CHAPTER XXXV.
It is a time of danger, not of revel,
When churchmen turn to masquers.
Spanish Father.
A
THE enterprise of Roland Græme appeared to prosper.
trinket or two, of which the work did not surpass the sub-
stance (for the materials were silver, supplied by the Queen),
were judiciously presented to those most likely to be inquisi-
tive into the labours of the forge and anvil, which they thus
were induced to reckon profitable to others and harmless in
itself. Openly, the page was seen working about such trifles.
In private he forged a number of keys resembling so nearly in
weight and in form those which were presented every evening
to the Lady Lochleven, that, on a slight inspection, it would
have been difficult to perceive the difference. He brought
them to the dark rusty colour by the use of salt and water;
and, in the triumph of his art, presented them at length to
Queen Mary in her presence-chamber, about an hour before
the tolling of the curfew. She looked at them with pleasure,
•
THE ABBOT.
431
but at the same time with doubt. "I allow," she said, "that
the Lady Lochleven's eyes, which are not of the clearest, may
be well deceived, could we pass those keys on her in place of
the real implements of her tyranny. But how is this to be
done, and which of my little court dare attempt this tour de
jongleur with any chance of success? Could we but engage
her, in some earnest matter of argument! but those which I
hold with her always have been of a kind which make her
grasp her keys the faster, as if she said to herself, 'Here I
hold what sets me above your taunts and reproaches.' And
even for her liberty, Mary Stuart could not stoop to speak the
proud heretic fair. What shall we do? Shall Lady Fleming
try her eloquence in describing the last new head-tire from
Paris? Alas! the good dame has not changed the fashion of
her head-gear since Pinkie field, for aught that I know. Shall
my mignonne Catherine sing to her one of those touching airs
which draw the very souls out of me and Roland Græme?
Alas! Dame Margaret Douglas would rather hear a Huguenot
psalm of Clément Marot, sung to the tune of Réveillez-vous,
belle endormie. Cousins and liege counsellors, what is to be
done, for our wits are really astray in this matter? Must our
man-at-arms, and the champion of our body, Roland Græme,
manfully assault the old lady, and take the keys from her par
voie du fait ?”
"Nay! with your Grace's permission," said Roland, "I do
not doubt being able to manage the matter with more discre-
tion; for though, in your Grace's service, I do not fear______")
"A host of old women," interrupted Catherine, "each
armed with rock and spindle; yet he has no fancy for pikes
and partizans, which might rise at the cry of 'Help! a Doug-
las-a Douglas!'
""
66
They that do not fear fair ladies' tongues," continued the
page, "need dread nothing else. But, gracious liege, I am well-
nigh satisfied that I could pass the exchange of these keys on the
Lady Lochleven; but I dread the sentinel who is now planted
nightly in the garden, which, by necessity, we must traverse."
"Our last advices from our friend on the shore have prom-
ised us assistance in that matter," replied the Queen.
432
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"And is your Grace well assured of the fidelity and watch-
fulness of those without?"
"For their fidelity I will answer with my life, and for their
vigilance I will answer with my life. I give will thee instant
proof, my faithful Roland, that they are ingenuous and trusty
as thyself. Come hither. Nay, Catherine, attend us; we
carry not so deft a page into our private chamber alone.
Make fast the door of the parlour, Fleming, and warn us if
you hear the least step-or stay, go thou to the door, Cathe-
rine (in a whisper), thy ears and thy wits are both sharper.
Good Fleming, attend us thyself. (And again she whispered)
Her reverend presence will be as safe a watch on Roland as
thine can, so be not jealous, mignonne.'
""
Thus speaking, they were lighted by the Lady Fleming into
the Queen's bedroom, a small apartment enlightened by a pro-
jecting window.
"Look from that window, Roland," she said; "see you
amongst the several lights which begin to kindle, and to
glimmer palely through the grey of the evening from the vil-
lage of Kinross-seest thou, I say, one solitary spark apart
from the others, and nearer it seems to the verge of the water?
It is no brighter at this distance than the torch of the poor
glow-worm, and yet, my good youth, that light is more dear
to Mary Stuart than every star that twinkles in the blue vault
of heaven. By that signal, I know that more than one true
heart is plotting my deliverance; and without that conscious-
ness, and the hope of freedom it gives me, I had long since
stooped to my fate and died of a broken heart. Plan after
plan has been formed and abandoned; but still the light
glimmers, and while it glimmers my hope lives. Oh! how
many evenings have I sat musing in despair over our ruined
schemes, and scarce hoping that I should again see that blessed
signal; when it has suddenly kindled, and, like the lights of
St. Elmo in a tempest, brought hope and consolation where
there was only dejection and despair!"
"If I mistake not," answered Roland, "the candle shines
from the house of Blinkhoolie, the mail-gardener.”
“Thou hast a good eye," said the Queen; "it is there where
Q
THE ABBOT.
433
my trusty lieges-God and the saints pour blessings on them!
-hold consultation for my deliverance. The voice of a
wretched captive would die on these blue waters long ere it
could mingle in their council, and yet I can hold communica-
tion—I will confide the whole to thee-I am about to ask
those faithful friends if the moment for the great attempt is
nigh. Place the lamp in the window, Fleming."
She obeyed, and immediately withdrew it. No sooner had
she done so than the light in the cottage of the gardener dis-
appeared.
"Now, count," said Queen Mary, "for my heart beats so
thick that I cannot count myself.'
"2
The Lady Fleming began deliberately to count one, two,
three, and when she had arrived at ten the light on the shore
again showed its pale twinkle.
"Now, Our Lady be praised!" said the Queen; "it was but
two nights since that the absence of the light remained while
I could tell thirty. The hour of deliverance approaches. May
God bless those who labour in it with such truth to me!—alas!
with such hazard to themselves-and bless you too, my chil-
dren! Come, we must to the audience-chamber again. Our
absence might excite suspicion, should they serve supper."
They returned to the presence-chamber, and the evening
concluded as usual.
-
The next noon, at dinner-time, an unusual incident occurred.
While Lady Douglas of Lochleven performed her daily duty
of assistant and taster at the Queen's table, she was told a
man-at-arms had arrived, recommended by her son, but with-
out any letter or other token than what he brought by word
of mouth.
"Hath he given you that token?" demanded the lady.
"He reserved it, as I think, for your ladyship's ear,” replied
Randal.
"He doth well," said the lady; "tell him to wait in the
hall. But no-with your permission, madam (to the Queen)-
let him attend me here. ""
"Since you are pleased to receive your domestics in my
presence," said the Queen, "I cannot choose-
""
28
434
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
i
"My infirmities must plead my excuse, madam," replied
the lady; "the life I must lead here ill suits with the years
which have passed over my head, and compels me to waive
ceremonial."
"Oh, my good lady," replied the Queen, "I would there
were nought in this your castle more strongly compulsive than
the cobweb chains of ceremony; but bolts and bars are harder
matters to contend with."
As she spoke, the person announced by Randal entered the
room, and Roland Græme at once recognised in him the Abbot
Ambrosius.
"What is your name, good fellow!" said the lady.
"Edward Glendinning," answered the abbot, with a suit-
able reverence.
"Art thou of the blood of the Knight of Avenel?" said the
Lady of Lochleven.
66
'Ay,
soldier.
madam, and that nearly," replied the pretended
"It is likely enough," said the lady, "for the knight is the
son of his own good works, and has risen from obscure lineage
to his present high rank in the estate. But he is of sure truth
and approved worth, and his kinsman is welcome to us. You
hold, unquestionably, the true faith?”
"Do not doubt of it, madam," said the disguised church-
man.
66
'Hast thou a token to me from Sir William Douglas?”
said the lady.
"I have, madam," replied he; "but it must be said in
private.”
"Thou art right," said the lady, moving towards the recess
of a window; "say in what does it consist?"
"In the words of an old bard," replied the abbot.
"6
'Repeat them," answered the lady; and he uttered, in a
low tone, the lines from an old poem called The Howlet—
'O, Douglas! Douglas!
Tender and true.'
"Trusty Sir John Holland!" said the Lady Douglas, apos
1 See Note 24,
•
THE ABBOT.
435
trophising the poet, "a kinder heart never inspired a rhyme,
and the Douglas's honour was ever on thy harp-string! We
receive you among our followers, Glendinning. But, Randal,
see that he keep the outer ward only, till we shall hear more
touching him from our son. Thou fearest not the night air,
Glendinning?"
"In the cause of the lady before whom I stand, I fear noth-
ing, madam," answered the disguised abbot.
"Our garrison, then, is stronger by one trustworthy soldier,*
said the matron. "Go to the buttery, and let them make much
of thee."
When the Lady Lochleven had retired, the Queen said to
Roland Græme, who was now almost constantly in her com-
pany, "I spy comfort in that stranger's countenance; I know
not why it should be so, but I am well persuaded he is a
friend."
"Your Grace's penetration does not deceive you," answered
the page; and he informed her that, the abbot of St. Mary's
himself played the part of the newly-arrived soldier.
The Queen crossed herself, and looked upward. "Unworthy
sinner that I am," she said, "that for my sake a man so holy,
and so high in spiritual office, should wear the garb of a base
sworder, and run the risk of dying the death of a traitor!"
"Heaven will protect its own servant, madam," said Cather-
ine Seyton; "his aid would bring a blessing on our undertak-
ing, were it not already blest for its own sake.”
was
What I admire in my spiritual father," said Roland,
the steady front with which he looked on me, without giving
the least sign of former acquaintance. I did not think the like
was possible, since I have ceased to believe that Henry was
the same person with Catherine.”
(C
"But marked you not how astuciously the good father," said
the Queen, "eluded the questions of the woman Lochleven,
telling her the very truth, which yet she received not as such?”
Roland thought in his heart that, when the truth was spoken
for the purpose of deceiving, it was little better than a lie in
disguise. But it was no time to agitate such questions of
conscience.
436
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"And now for the signal from the shore!" exclaimed Cather
ine; “my bosom tells me we shall see this night two lights
instead of one gleam from that garden of Eden. And then,
Roland, do you play your part manfully, and we will dance
on the greensward like midnight fairies!"
Catherine's conjecture misgave not, nor deceived her. In
the evening two beams twinkled from the cottage, instead of
one; and the page heard, with beating heart, that the new re-
tainer was ordered to stand sentinel on the outside of the cas-
When he intimated this news to the Queen, she held her
hand out to him; he knelt, and when he raised it to his lips
in all dutiful homage, he found it was damp and cold as mar-
ble. "For God's sake, madam, droop not now-sink not
now!"
tle.
"Call upon Our Lady, my liege," said the Lady Fleming-
"call upon your tutelar saint."
"Call the spirits of the hundred kings you are descended
from!" exclaimed the page; "in this hour of need, the reso-
lution of a monarch were worth the aid of a hundred saints.'
66
"O Roland Græme!" said Mary, in a tone of deep de-
spondency, "be true to me; many have been false to me.
Alas! I have not always been true to myself! My mind mis-
gives me that I shall die in bondage, and that this bold attempt
will cost all our lives. It was foretold me by a soothsayer in
France that I should die in prison, and by a violent death,
and here comes the hour. Oh, would to God it found me pre-
pared!"
"Madam," said Catherine Seyton, "remember you are a
queen. Better we all died in bravely attempting to gain our
freedom than remained here to be poisoned, as men rid them
of the noxious vermin that haunt old houses."
"You are right, Catherine," said the Queen; "and Mary
will bear her like herself. But, alas! your young and buoy-
ant spirit can ill spell the causes which have broken mine.
Forgive me, my children, and farewell for a while; I will
prepare both mind and body for this awful venture."
They separated, till again called together by the tolling of
the curfew. The Queen appeared grave, but firm and resolved;
THE ABBOT.
437
the Lady Fleming, with the art of an experienced courtier,
knew perfectly how to disguise her inward tremors; Cathe-
rine's eye was fired, as if with the boldness of the project, and
the half-smile which dwelt upon her beautiful mouth seemed
to contemn all the risk and all the consequences of discovery;
Roland, who felt how much success depended on his own ad-
dress and boldness, summoned together his whole presence of
mind, and if he found his spirits flag for a moment, cast his
eye upon Catherine, whom he thought he had never seen look
so beautiful. "I may be foiled," he thought, "but, with this
reward in prospect, they must bring the devil to aid them ere
they cross me.” Thus resolved, he stood like a greyhound in
the slips, with hand, heart, and eye intent upon making and
seizing opportunity for the execution of their project.
The keys had, with the wonted ceremonial, been presented
to the Lady Lochleven. She stood with her back to the case-
ment, which, like that of the Queen's apartment, commanded
a view of Kinross, with the church, which stands at some dis-
tance from the town, and nearer to the lake, then connected
with the town by straggling cottages. With her back to the
casement, then, and her face to the table, on which the keys
lay for an instant while she tasted the various dishes which
were placed there, stood the Lady of Lochleven, more provok-
ingly intent than usual—so at least it seemed to her prisoner—
upon the huge and heavy bunch of iron, the implements of
their restraint. Just when, having finished her ceremony as
taster of the Queen's table, she was about to take up the keys,
the page, who stood beside her, and had handed her the dishes
in succession, looked sidewise to the churchyard, and exclaimed
he saw corpse-candles in the vault. The Lady of Lochleven
was not without a touch, though a slight one, of the supersti-
tions of the time: the fate of her sons made her alive to omens,
and a corpse-light, as it was called, in the family burial-place
boded death. She turned her head towards the casement-
saw a distant glimmering-forget her charge for one second,
and in that second were lost the whole fruits of her former
vigilance. The page held the forged keys under his cloak,
and with great dexterity exchanged them for the real ones.
-
438
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:
His utmost address could not prevent a slight clash as he took
up the latter bunch. "Who touches the keys?" said the lady;
and while the page answered that the sleeve of his cloak had
stirred them, she looked round, possessed herself of the bunch
which now occupied the place of the genuine keys, and again
turned to gaze at the supposed corpse-candles.
"I hold these gleams," she said, after a moment's consider-
ation, "to come, not from the churchyard, but from the hut
of the old gardener Blinkhoolie. I wonder what thrift that
churl drives, that of late he hath ever had light in his house
till the night grew deep. I thought him an industrious, peace-
ful man.
If he turns resetter of idle companions and night-
walkers, the place must be rid of him.'
"He may work his baskets, perchance," said the page, de-
sirous to stop the train of her suspicion.
ور
"Or nets, may he not?" answered the lady.
66
Ay, madam," said Roland, "for trout and salmon.”
"Or for fools and knaves," replied the lady; "but this shall
be looked after to-morrow. I wish your Grace and your com-
pany a good evening. Randal, attend us. And Randal, who
waited in the ante-chamber after having surrendered his bunch
of keys, gave his escort to his mistress as usual, while, leaving
the Queen's apartments, she retired to her own.
""
66
To-morrow!" said the page, rubbing his hands with glee
as he repeated the lady's own last words; "fools look to to-
morrow, and wise folk use to-night. May I pray you, my
gracious liege, to retire for one half-hour, until all the castle
is composed to rest? I must go and rub with oil these blessed
implements of our freedom. Courage and constancy, and all
will go well, provided our friends on the shore fail not to send
the boat you spoke of."
Fear them not," said Catherine, "they are true as steel—
if our dear mistress do but maintain her noble and royal cour-
age." 1
"Doubt not me, Catherine," replied the Queen; "a while
since I was overborne, but I have recalled the spirit of my
earlier and more sprightly days, when I used to accompany
1 ¹ See Demeanour of Queen Mary. Note 25.
THE ABBOT.
439
my armed nobles, and wish to be myself a man, to know what
life it was to be in the fields with sword and buckler, jack and
knapscap!"
'Oh, the lark lives not a gayer life, nor sings a lighter and
gayer song, than the merry soldier," answered Catherine.
Your Grace shall be in the midst of them soon, and the look
of such a liege sovereign will make each of your host worth
three in the hour of need. But I must to my task."
"We have but brief time," said Queen Mary: "one of the
two lights in the cottage is extinguished; that shows the boat
is put off."
66
They will row very slow," said the page, "or kent where
depth permits, to avoid noise. To our several tasks. I will
communicate with the good father."
At the dead hour of midnight, when all was silent in the
castle, the page put the key into the lock of the wicket which
opened into the garden, and which was at the bottom of a
staircase that descended from the Queen's apartment. "Now,
turn smooth and softly, thou good bolt," said he, "if ever oil
softened rust!" and the precautions had been so effectual that
the bolt revolved with little or no sound of resistance. He
ventured not to cross the threshold, but exchanging a word
with the disguised abbot, asked if the boat were ready.
"This half-hour," said the sentinel. "She lies beneath the
wall, too close under the islet to be seen by the warder; but I
fear she will hardly escape his notice in putting oft again.”
"The darkness," said the page, "and our profound silence,
may take her off unobserved, as she came in. Hildebrand has
the watch on the tower-a heavy-headed knave, who holds a
can of ale to be the best head-piece upon a night-watch. He
sleeps for a wager.
""
"Then bring the Queen," said the abbot, "and I will call
Henry Seyton to assist them to the boat.”
On tiptoe, with noiseless step and suppressed breath, trem-
bling at every rustle of their own apparel, one after another the
fair prisoners glided down the winding stairs, under the guid-
ance of Roland Græme, and were received at the wicket-gate
by Henry Seyton and the churchman. The former seemed in-
440
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
stantly to take upon himself the whole direction of the enter-
prise. "My lord abbot," he said, "give my sister your arm;
I will conduct the Queen, and that youth will have the honour
to guide Lady Fleming."
This was no time to dispute the arrangement, although it
was not that which Roland Græme would have chosen. Cathe-
rine Seyton, who well knew the garden path, tripped on before
like a sylph, rather leading the abbot than receiving assistance;
the Queen, her native spirit prevailing over female fear and a
thousand painful reflections, moved steadily forward, by the
assistance of Henry Seyton; while the Lady Fleming encum-
bered with her fears and her helplessness Roland Græme, who
followed in the rear, and who bore under the other arm a
packet of necessaries belonging to the Queen. The door of
the garden, which communicated with the shore of the islet,
yielded to one of the keys of which Roland had possessed
himself, although not until he had tried several-a moment of
anxious terror and expectation. The ladies were then partly
led, partly carried, to the side of the lake, where a boat with
six rowers attended them, the men couched along the bottom
to secure them from observation. Henry Seyton placed the
Queen in the stern; the abbot offered to assist Catherine, but
she was seated by the Queen's side before he could utter his
proffer of help; and Roland Græme was just lifting Lady
Fleming over the boat-side when a thought suddenly occurred
to him, and exclaiming, "Forgotten-forgotten! wait for me
but one half minute," he replaced on the shore the helpless
Lady of the bed-chamber, threw the Queen's packet into the
boat, and sped back through the garden with the noiseless
speed of a bird on the wing.
"By Heaven, he is false at last!" said Seyton; "I ever
feared it!"
"He is as true," said Catherine, "as Heaven itself, and that
I will maintain."
"Be silent, minion," said her brother, "for shame, if not
for fear. Fellows, put off, and row for your lives!"
"Help me help me on board!" said the deserted Lady
Fleming, and that louder than prudence warranted.
1
THE ABBOT.
441
"Put off-put off!" cried Henry Seyton; "leave all behind,
so the Queen is safe."
"Will you permit this, madam?" said Catherine, imploring-
ly; "you leave your deliverer to death.”
"I will not," said the Queen. "Seyton, I command you
to stay at every risk."
"Pardon me, madam, if I disobey," said the intractable
young man; and with one hand lifting in Lady Fleming, he
began himself to push off the boat.
She was two fathoms' length from the shore, and the rowers
were getting her head round, when Roland Græme, arriving,
bounded from the beach, and attained the boat, overturning
Seyton, on whom he lighted. The youth swore a deep but
suppressed oath, and stopping Græme as he stepped towards
the stern, said: "Your place is not with high-born dames;
keep at the head and trim the vessel. Now give way—give
way. Row, for God and the Queen!"
The rowers obeyed, and began to pull vigorously.
Why did you not muffle the oars?" said Roland Græme;
"the dash must awaken the sentinel. Row, lads, and get out of
reach of shot; for had not old Hildebrand, the warder, supped
upon poppy-porridge, this whispering must have waked him.”
"It was all thine own delay," said Seyton; "thou shalt
reckon with me hereafter for that and other matters."
But Roland's apprehension was verified too instantly to
permit him to reply. The sentinel, whose slumbering had
withstood the whispering, was alarmed by the dash of the
oars. His challenge was instantly heard: "A boat a boat!
bring to, or I shoot!" And, as they continued to ply their
oars, he called aloud, "Treason!-treason!" rung the bell of
the castle, and discharged his harquebuss at the boat. The
ladies crowded on each other like startled wild-fowl, at the
flash and report of the piece, while the men urged the rowers
to the utmost speed. They heard more than one ball whiz
along the surface of the lake, at no great distance from their
little bark; and from the lights, which glanced like meteors
from window to window, it was evident the whole castle was
alarmed, and their escape discovered.
S
442
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Pull!" again exclaimed Seyton; "stretch to your oars, or
I will spur you to the task with my dagger; they will launch
a boat immediately."
"That is cared for," said Roland; "I locked gate and wicket
on them when I went back, and no boat will stir from the island
this night, if doors of good oak and bolts of iron can keep men
within stone walls. And now I resign my office of porter of
Lochleven, and give the keys to the Kelpie's keeping."
As the heavy keys plunged in the lake, the abbot, who till
then had been repeating his prayers, exclaimed, “Now, bless
thee, my son! for thy ready prudence puts shame on us all.""
"I knew," said Mary, drawing her breath more freely, as
they were now out of reach of the musketry-"I knew my
squire's truth, promptitude, and sagacity. I must have him
dear friends with my no less true knights, Douglas and Sey-
ton; but where, then, is Douglas?”
“Here, madam," answered the deep and melancholy voice
of the boatman who sat next her, and who acted as steersman.
"Alas! was it you who stretched your body before me,'
said the Queen, "when the balls were raining around us?"
""
"Believe you," said he, in a low tone, "that Douglas would
have resigned to any one the chance of protecting his Queen's
life with his own?"
The dialogue was here interrupted by a shot or two from
one of those small pieces of artillery called falconets, then used
in defending castles. The shot was too vague to have any ef-
fect, but the broader flash, the deeper sound, the louder return
which was made by the midnight echoes of Bennarty terrified
and imposed silence on the liberated prisoners. The boat was
alongside of a rude quay or landing-place, running out from a
garden of considerable extent, before any of them again at-
tempted to speak. They landed, and while the abbot returned
thanks aloud to Heaven, which had thus far favoured their
enterprise, Douglas enjoyed the best reward of his desperate
undertaking, in conducting the Queen to the house of the gar-
dener. Yet not unmindful of Roland Græme, even in that
moment of terror and exhaustion, Mary expressly commanded
'See Escape of Queen Mary from Lochleven. Note 26.
THE ABBOT.
443
Seyton to give his assistance to Fleming, while Catherine vol-
untarily, and without bidding, took the arm of the page. Sey-
ton presently resigned Lady Fleming to the care of the abbot,
alleging he must look after their horses; and his attendants,
disencumbering themselves of their boat-cloaks, hastened to
assist him.
While Mary spent in the gardener's cottage the few minutes
which were necessary to prepare the steeds for their departure,
she perceived in a corner the old man to whom the garden be-
longed, and called him to approach. He came as it were with
reluctance.
"How, brother," said the abbot, "so slow to welcome thy
royal Queen and mistress to liberty and to her kingdom!"
The old man, thus admonished, came forward, and, in good
terms of speech, gave her Grace joy of her deliverance.
The Queen returned him thanks in the most gracious manner,
and added, “It will remain to us to offer some immediate re-
ward for your fidelity, for we wot well your house has been
long the refuge in which our trusty servants have met to con-
cert measures for our freedom." So saying, she offered gold,
and added, "We will consider your services more fully here-
after."
-
"Kneel, brother," said the abbot-"kneel instantly, and
thank her Grace's kindness."
"Good brother, that wert once a few steps under me, and
are still very many years younger," replied the gardener, pet-
tishly, "let me do mine acknowledgments in my own way.
Queens have knelt to me ere now, and in truth my knees are
too old and stiff to bend even to this lovely-faced lady. May
it please your Grace, if your Grace's servants have occupied
my house, so that I could not call it mine own; if they have
trodden down my flowers in the zeal of their midnight comings
and goings, and destroyed the hope of the fruit season by bring-
ing their war-horses into my garden, I do but crave of your
Grace in requital that you will choose your residence as far
from me as possible. I am an old man, who would willingly
creep to my grave as easily as I can, in peace, good-will, and
quiet labour."
?
444
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
→
"I promise you fairly, good man," said the Queen, "I will
not make yonder castle my residence again, if I can help it.
But let me press on you this money; it will make some
amends for the havoc we have made in your little garden and
orchard."
"I thank your Grace, but it will make me not the least
amends," said the old man. "The ruined labours of a
whole year are not so easily replaced to him who has per-
chance but that one year to live; and, besides, they tell
me I must leave this place, and become a wanderer in mine
old age I that have nothing on earth saving these fruit-
trees, and a few old parchments and family secrets not worth
knowing. As for gold, if I had loved it, I might have re-
mained lord abbot of St. Mary's; and yet I wot not, for if
Abbot Boniface be but the poor peasant Blinkhoolie, his suc-
cessor, the Abbot Ambrosius, is still transmuted for the worse
into the guise of a sword-and-buckler-man."
"Ha! Is this indeed the Abbot Boniface of whom I have
heard?" said the Queen. "It is indeed I who should have
bent the knee for your blessing, good father!"
"Bend no knee to me, lady! The blessing of an old man,
who is no longer an abbot, go with you over dale and down.
I hear the trampling of your horses."
"Farewell, father," said the Queen. "When we are once
more seated at Holyrood, we will neither forget thee nor thine
injured garden."
"Forget us both," said the Ex-Abbot Boniface, “and may
God be with you!"
As they hurried out of the house, they heard the old man
talking and muttering to himself, as he hastily drew bolt and
bar behind them.
"The revenge of the
man," said the Queen.
whom I approach!"
Douglasses will reach the poor old
"God help me, I ruin every one
"His safety is cared for," said Seyton; "he must not re-
main here, but will be privately conducted to a place of greater
security. But I would your Grace were in the saddle. To
horse!-to horse!"
THE ABBOT.
445
The party of Seyton and of Douglas were increased to
about ten by those attendants who had remained with the
horses. The Queen and her ladies, with all the rest who
came from the boat, were instantly mounted; and holding
aloof from the village, which was already alarmed by the firing
from the castle, with Douglas acting as their guide, they soon
reached the open ground, and began to ride as fast as was
consistent with keeping together in good order.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
He mounted himself on a coal-black steed,
And her on a freckled grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down from his side,
And roundly they rode away.
Old Ballad.
THE influence of the free air, the rushing of the horses over
high and low, the ringing of the bridles, the excitation at once
arising from a sense of freedom and of rapid motion, gradually
dispelled the confused and dejected sort of stupefaction by
which Queen Mary was at first overwhelmed. She could not
at last conceal the change of her feelings to the person who
rode at her rein, and who she doubted not was the Father
Ambrosius; for Seyton, with all the heady impetuosity of a
youth, proud, and justly so, of his first successful adventure, as-
sumed all the bustle and importance of commander of the little
party, which escorted, in the language of the time, the Fortune
of Scotland. He now led the van, now checked his bounding
steed till the rear had come up, exhorted the leaders to keep
a steady, though rapid, pace, and commanded those who were
hindmost of the party to use their spurs, and allow no interval
to take place in their line of march; and anon he was beside
the Queen or her ladies, inquiring how they brooked the hasty
journey, and whether they had any commands for him. But
while Seyton thus busied himself in the general cause with
some advantage to the regular order of the march, and a good
deal of personal ostentation, the horseman who rode beside the
Queen gave her his full and undivided attention, as if he had
446
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
been waiting upon some superior being. When the road was
rugged and dangerous, he abandoned almost entirely the care
of his own horse, and kept his hand constantly upon the
Queen's bridle; if a river or larger brook traversed their
course, his left arm retained her in the saddle, while his right
held her palfrey's rein.
"I had not thought, reverend father," said the Queen, when
they watched the other bank, "that the convent bred such
good horsemen." The person she addressed sighed, but made
no other answer. "I know not how it is," said Queen Mary,
but either the sense of freedom, or the pleasure of my favour-
ite exercise, from which I have been so long debarred, or
both combined, seem to have given wings to me: no fish ever
shot through the water, no bird through the air, with the
hurried feeling of liberty and rapture with which I sweep
though this night-wind, and over these wolds. Nay, such is
the magic of feeling myself once more in the saddle, that I
could almost swear I am at this moment mounted on my own
favourite Rosabelle, who was never matched in Scotland for
swiftness, for ease of motion, and for sureness of foot."
"And if the horse which bears so dear a burden could
speak," answered the deep voice of the melancholy George of
Douglas, "would she not reply, who but Rosabelle ought at
such an emergence as this to serve her beloved mistress, or
who but Douglas ought to hold her bridle-rein?"
Queen Mary started; she foresaw at once all the evils like
to arise to herself and him from the deep enthusiastic passion
of this youth; but her feelings as a woman, grateful at once
and compassionate, prevented her assuming the dignity of a
Queen, and she endeavoured to continue the conversation in an
indifferent tone.
"Methought," she said, "I heard that, at the division of
my spoils, Rosabelle had become the property of Lord Mor-
ton's paramour and ladye-love, Alice."
“The noble palfrey had indeed been destined to so base a
lot," answered Douglas. "She was kept under four keys, and
under the charge of a numerous crew of grooms and domestics;
but Queen Mary needed Rosabelle, and Rosabelle is here.”
THE ABBOT.
447 ·
"And was it well, Douglas," said Queen Mary, "when such
fearful risks of various kinds must needs be encountered,
that you should augment their perils to yourself for a subject
of so little moment as a palfrey?"
"Do you call that of little moment," answered Douglas,
"which has afforded you a moment's pleasure? Did you not
start with joy when I first said you were mounted on Rosa-
belle? And to purchase you that pleasure, though it were
to last no longer than the flash of lightning doth, would not
Douglas have risked his life a thousand times?"
"Oh, peace, Douglas-peace," said the Queen, "this is un-
fitting language; and, besides, I would speak," said she, recol-
lecting herself, "with the abbot of St. Mary's. Nay, Douglas,
I will not let you quit my rein in displeasure.
"Displeasure, lady!" answered Douglas; "alas! sorrow is
all that I can feel for your well-warranted contempt. I should
be as soon displeased with Heaven for refusing the wildest
wish which mortal can form.”
22
"Abide by my rein, however," said Mary, "there is room
for my lord abbot on the other side; and, besides, I doubt if
his assistance would be so useful to Rosabelle and me as
yours has been, should the road again require it."
The abbot came up on the other side, and she immediately
opened a conversation with him on the topic of the state of
parties, and the plan fittest for her to pursue in consequence
of her deliverance. In this conversation Douglas took little
share, and never but when directly applied to by the Queen,
while, as before, his attention seemed entirely engrossed by
the care of Mary's personal safety. She learned, however,
she had a new obligation to him, since, by his contrivance,
the abbot, whom he had furnished with the family password,
was introduced into the castle as one of the garrison.
Long before daybreak they ended their hasty and perilous
journey before the gates of Niddrie, a castle in West Lothian,
belonging to Lord Seyton. When the Queen was about to
alight, Henry Seyton, preventing Douglas, received her in
his arms, and, kneeling down, prayed her Majesty to enter
the house of his father, her faithful servant.
448
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
་
"Your Grace," he added, "may repose yourself here in
perfect safety: it is already garrisoned with good men for
your protection; and I have sent a post to my father, whose
instant arrival, at the head of five hundred men, may be
looked for. Do not dismay yourself, therefore, should your
sleep be broken by the trampling of horse; but only think
that here are some scores more of the saucy Seytons come to
attend you.'
""
"And by better friends than the saucy Seytons a Scottish
queen cannot be guarded," replied Mary. "Rosabelle went
fleet as the summer breeze, and wellnigh as easy; but it is
long since I have been a traveller, and I feel that repose will
be welcome. Catherine, ma mignonne, you must sleep in my
apartment to-night, and bid me welcome to your noble father's
castle. Thanks-thanks to all my kind deliverers; thanks,
and a good-night is all I can now offer; but if I climb once
more to the upper side of Fortune's wheel I will not have her
bandage. Mary Stuart will keep her eyes open, and distin-
guish her friends. Seyton, I need scarcely recommend the
venerable abbot, the Douglas, and my page to your honourable
care and hospitality."
Henry Seyton bowed, and Catherine and Lady Fleming at-
tended the Queen to her apartment; where, acknowledging to
them that she should have found it difficult in that moment
to keep her promise of holding her eyes open, she resigned
herself to repose, and awakened not till the morning was ad-
vanced
Mary's first feeling when she awoke was the doubt of her
freedom; and the impulse prompted her to start from bed,
and hastily throwing her mantle over her shoulders, to look
out at the casement of her apartment. O sight of joy! in-
stead of the crystal sheet of Lochleven, unaltered save by the
influence of the wind, a landscape of wood and moorland lay
before her, and the park around the castle was occupied by
the troops of her most faithful and most favourite nobles.
"Rise-rise, Catherine," cried the enraptured Princess-
"arise and come hither! Here are swords and spears in true
hands, and glittering armour on loyal breasts. Here are ban-

PATTERNYERE
& br
Em
EX
"Mary flung the casement open. . . and returned by motion
and sign the exulting shouts."
Abbot, Chap. xxxvi., p. 449.
THE ABBOT.
449
ON
ners, my girl, floating in the wind, as lightly as summer clouds.
Great God! what pleasure to my weary eyes to trace their de-
vices—thine own brave father's-the princely Hamilton's-
the faithful Fleming's. See-see-they have caught a glimpse
of me, and throng towards the window!"
She flung the casement open, and with her bare head, from
which the tresses flew back loose and dishevelled, her fair
arm, slenderly veiled by her mantle, returned by motion and
sign the exulting shouts of the warriors, which echoed for
many a furlong around. When the first burst of ecstatic joy
was over she recollected how lightly she was dressed, and,
putting her hands to her face, which was covered with blushes
at the recollection, withdrew abruptly from the window. The
cause of her retreat was easily conjectured, and increased the
general enthusiasm for a princess who had forgotten her rank
in her haste to acknowledge the services of her subjects. The
unadorned beauties of the lovely woman, too, moved the mili-
tary spectators more than the highest display of her regal state
might; and what might have seemed too free in her mode of
appearing before them was more than atoned for by the en-
thusiasm of the moment, and by the delicacy evinced in her
hasty retreat. Often as the shouts died away, as often were
they renewed, till wood and hill rung again; and many a
deep oath was made that morning on the cross of the sword,
that the hand should not part with the weapon till Mary
Stuart was restored to her rights. But what are promises,
what the hopes of mortals? In ten days these gallant and
devoted votaries were slain, were captives, or had fled. .
Mary flung herself into the nearest seat, and still blush-
ing, yet half-smiling, exclaimed, "Ma mignonne, what will
they think of me?-to show myself to them with my bare
feet hastily thrust into the slippers-only this loose mantle
about me-my hair loose on my shoulders-my arms and neck
so bare. Oh, the best they can suppose is, that her abode in
yonder dungeon has turned their Queen's brain! But my
rebel subjects saw me exposed when I was in the depth of
affliction, why should I hold colder ceremony with these faith-
ful and loyal men? Call Fleming, however; I trust she has
29
450
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
not forgotten the little mail with my apparel. We must be
as brave as we can, mignonne.”
"Nay, madam, our good Lady Fleming was in no case to
remember anything."
"You jest, Catherine," said the Queen, somewhat offended;
"it is not in her nature, surely, to forget her duty so far as
to leave us without a change of apparel?"
"Roland Græme, madam, took care of that," answered
Catherine; "for he threw the mail with your Highness's
clothes and jewels into the boat, ere he ran back to lock the
gate. I never saw so awkward a page as that youth: the
packet wellnigh fell on my head."
"He shall make thy heart amends, my girl," said Queen
Mary, laughing, "for that and all other offences given. But
call Fleming, and let us put ourselves into apparel to meet our
faithful lords."
Such had been the preparations, and such was the skill of
Lady Fleming, that the Queen appeared before her assembled
nobles in such attire as became, though it could not enhance,
her natural dignity. With the most winning courtesy, she
expressed to each individual her grateful thanks, and dignified
not only every noble, but many of the lesser barons, by her
particular attention.
"And whither now, my lords?" she said; "what way do
your counsels determine for us?”
"To Draphane Castle," replied Lord Arbroath, "if your
Majesty is so so pleased; and thence to Dunbarton, to place
your Grace's person in safety, after which we long to prove
if these traitors will abide us in the field."
"And when do we journey?"
"We propose," said Lord Seyton, "if your Grace's fatigue
will permit, to take horse after the morning's meal."
CC
"Your pleasure, my lords, is mine," replied the Queen;
we will rule our journey by our wisdom now, and hope here-
after to have the advantage of governing by it our kingdom.
You will permit my ladies and me, my good lords, to break
our fast along with you; we must be half soldiers ourselves,
and set state apart.”
THE ABBOT.
451
Low bowed many a helmeted head at this gracious proffer,
when the Queen, glancing her eyes through the assembled
leaders, missed both Douglas and Roland Græme, and in-
quired for them in a whisper to Catherine Seyton.
"They are in yonder oratory madam, sad enough," replied
Catherine, and the Queen observed that her favourite's eyes
were red with weeping.
"This must not be," said the Queen. "Keep the company
amused. I will seek them, and introduce them myself.
""
She went into the oratory, where the first she met was
George Douglas, standing, or rather reclining, in the recess
of a window, his back rested against the wall and his arms
folded on his breast. At the sight of the Queen he started,
and his countenance showed, for an instant, an expression of
intense delight, which was instantly exchanged for his usual
deep melancholy.
፡
"What means this?" she said. "Douglas, why does the
first deviser and bold executor of the happy scheme for our
freedom shun the company of his fellow-nobles, and of the
sovereign whom he has obliged?"
"Madam," replied Douglas, "those whom you grace with
your presence bring followers to aid your cause, wealth to
support your state-can offer you halls in which to feast, and
impregnable castles for your defence. I am a houseless and
landless man-disinherited by my [grand-] mother, and laid
under her malediction-disowned by my name and kindred-
who bring nothing to your standard but a single sword, and
the poor life of its owner."
Do you mean to upbraid me, Douglas," replied the Queen,
"by showing what you have lost for my sake?”
"God forbid, madam!" interrupted the young man, eagerly;
* were it to do again, and had I ten times as much rank and
wealth, and twenty times as many friends to lose, my losses
would be overpaid by the first step you made, as a free prin-
cess, upon the soil of your native kingdom."
“And what then ails you, that you will not rejoice with
those who rejoice upon the same joyful occasion?" said the
Queen
452
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
"Madam," replied the youth, "though exheridated and
disowned, I am yet a Douglas: with most of yonder nobles
my family have been in feud for ages-a cold reception
amongst them were an insult, and a kind one yet more hu-
miliating."
66
"For shame, Douglas," replied the Queen, "shake off this
unmanly gloom! I can make thee match for the best of them
in title and fortune, and, believe me, I will. Go then amongst
them, I command you."
"That word," said Douglas, "is enough. I go. This only
let me say, that not for wealth or title would I have done that
which I have done. Mary Stuart will not, and the Queen
cannot, reward me.”
So saying, he left the oratory, mingled with the nobles, and
placed himself at the bottom of the table. The Queen looked
after him, and put her kerchief to her eyes.
"Now, Our Lady pity me," she said, "for no sooner are my
prison cares ended than those which beset me as a woman and
a queen again thicken around me. Happy Elizabeth! to whom
political interest is everything, and whose heart never betrays
thy head. And now must I seek this other boy, if I would
prevent daggers-drawing betwixt him and the young Seyton.'
Roland Græme was in the same oratory, but at such a dis-
tance from Douglas, that he could not overhear what passed
betwixt the Queen and him. He also was moody and thought-
ful, but cleared his brow at the Queen's question, "How now,
Roland? you are negligent in your attendance this morning.
Are you so much overcome with your night's ride?”
"Not so, gracious madam," answered Græme; "but I am
told the page of Lochleven is not the page of Niddrie Castle;
and so Master Henry Seyton hath in a manner been placed to
supersede my attendance."
"Now, Heaven forgive me," said the Queen, "how soon
these cock-chickens begin to spar! With children and boys,
at least, I may be a queen. I will have you friends. Some
one send me Henry Seyton hither." As she spoke the last
words aloud, the youth whom she had named entered the
apartment. "Come hither," she said, "Henry Seyton. I
1
""
THE ABBOT.
453
will have you give your hand to this youth, who so well aided
in the plan of my escape."
.
"Willingly, madam," answered Seyton, "so that the youth
will grant me, as a boon, that he touch not the hand of an-
other Seyton whom he knows of. My hand has passed cur-
rent for hers with him before now; and to win my friendship,
he must give up thoughts of my sister's love."
"Henry Seyton," said the Queen, "does it become you to
add any condition to my command?"
"Madam," said Henry, "I am the servant of your Grace's
throne, son to the most loyal man in Scotland. Our goods,
our castles, our blood, are yours; our honour is in our own
keeping. I could say more, but-
""
"Nay, speak on, rude boy," said the Queen; "what avails
it that I am released from Lochleven, if I am thus enthralled
under the yoke of my pretended deliverers, and prevented
from doing justice to one who has deserved as well of me as
yourself?"
"Be not in this distemperature for me, sovereign lady,"
said Roland; "this young gentleman, being the faithful ser-
vant of your Grace, and the brother of Catherine Seyton, bears
that about him which will charm down my passion at the
hottest."
"I warn thee once more," said Henry Seyton, haughtily,
"that you make no speech which may infer that the daughter
of Lord Seyton can be aught to thee beyond what she is to
every churl's blood in Scotland.”
The Queen was again about to interfere, for Roland's com-
plexion rose, and it became somewhat questionable how long
his love for Catherine would suppress the natural fire of his
temper. But the interposition of another person, hitherto
unseen, prevented Mary's interference. There was in the
oratory a separate shrine, inclosed with a high screen of
pierced oak, within which was placed an image of St. Ben-
net, of peculiar sanctity. From this recess, in which she had
been probably engaged in her devotion, issued suddenly Mag-
dalen Græme, and addressed Henry Seaton, in reply to his
last offensive expressions: "And of what clay, then, are they
454
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
moulded these Seytons, that the blood of the Græmes may not
aspire to mingle with theirs? Know, proud boy, that when I
called this youth my daughter's child, I affirm his descent
from Malise Earl of Strathern, called Malise with the Bright
Brand; and I trow the blood of your house springs from no
higher source."
"Good mother," said Seyton, "methinks your sanctity
should make you superior to these worldly vanities; and in-
deed it seems to have rendered you somewhat oblivious touch-
ing them, since, to be of gentle descent, the father's name and
lineage must be as well qualified as the mother's."
"And if I say he comes of the blood of Avenel by the fa-
ther's side," replied Magdalen Græme, "name I not blood as
richly coloured as thine own?"
"Of Avenel!" said the Queen; "is my page descended of
Avenel?"
"Ay, gracious Princess, and the last male heir of that an-
cient house. Julian Avenel was his father, who fell in battle
against the Southron.
"I have heard the tale of sorrow," said the Queen; "it was
thy daughter, then, who followed that unfortunate baron to
the field, and died on his body? Alas! how many ways does
woman's affection find to work out her own misery! The tale
has oft been told and sung in hall and bower. And thou,
Roland, art that child of misfortune, who was left among the
dead and dying? Henry Seyton, he is thine equal in blood
and birth."
22
"Scarcely so," said Henry Seyton, "even were he legiti-
mate; but if the tale be told and sung aright, Julian Avenel
was a false knight, and his leman a frail and credulous
maiden."
"Now, by Heaven, thou liest!" said Roland Græme, and
laid his hand on his sword. The entrance of Lord Seyton,
however, prevented violence.
"Save me, my lord," said the Queen, "and separate these
wild and untamed spirits."
"How, Henry!" said the baron, "are my castle and the
Queen's presence no checks on thine insolence and impetu-
THE ABBOT.
455
osity? And with whom art thou brawling? Unless my eyes
tell that token false, it is with the very youth who aided me
so gallantly in the skirmish with the Leslies. Let me look,
fair youth, at the medal which thou wearest in thy cap. By
St. Bennet, it is the same! Henry, I command thee to for
bear him, as thou lovest my blessing--"
"And as you honour my command," said the Queen; "good
service hath he done me."
"Ay, madam,” replied young Seyton, "as when he carried
the billet, inclosed in the sword-sheath, to Lochleven. Marry,
the good youth knew no more than a pack-horse what he was
carrying."
"But I, who dedicated him to this great work," said Mag-
dalen Græme-"I, by whose advice and agency this just heir
hath been unloosed from her thraldom-I, who spared not the
last remaining hope of a falling house in this great action-I,
at least, knew and counselled; and what merit may be mine,
let the reward, most gracious Queen, descend upon this youth.
My ministry here is ended: you are free-a sovereign princess
at the head of a gallant army, surrounded by valiant barons.
My service could avail you no farther, but might well preju-
dice you; your fortune now rests upon men's hearts and men's
swords. May they prove as trusty as the faith of woman!”
"You will not leave us, mother," said the Queen-"you
whose practices in our favour were so powerful, who dared so
many dangers, and wore so many disguises, to blind our ene-
mies and to confirm our friends-you will not leave us in the
dawn of our reviving fortunes, ere we have time to know and
to thank you?"
"You cannot know her," answered Magdalen Græme, "who
knows not herself: there are times when, in this woman's
frame of mine, there is the strength of him of Gath; in this
overtoiled brain, the wisdom of the most sage counsellor; and
again the mist is on me, and my strength is weakness, my
wisdom folly. I have spoken before princes and cardinals-
ay, noble Princess, even before the princes of thine own house
of Lorraine-and I know not whence the words of persuasion
came which flowed from my lips, and were drunk in by their
·
456
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ears.
And now, even when I most need words of persuasion,
there is something which chokes my voice and robs me of ut-
terance."
"If there be aught in my power to do thee pleasure," said
the Queen, "the barely naming it shall avail as well as all
thine eloquence.'
""
Sovereign lady," replied the enthusiast, "it shames me
that at this high moment something of human frailty should
cling to one whose vows the saints have heard, whose labours
in the rightful cause Heaven has prospered. But it will be
thus, while the living spirit is shrined in the clay of mortal-
ity. I will yield to the folly," she said, weeping as she spoke,
66 and it shall be the last." Then seizing Roland's hand, she
led him to the Queen's feet, kneeling herself upon one knee,
and causing him to kneel on both. "Mighty Princess," she
said, "look on this flower—it was found by a kindly stranger
on a bloody field of battle, and long it was ere my anxious
eyes saw, and my arms pressed, all that was left of my only
daughter. For your sake, and for that of the holy faith we
both profess, I could leave this plant, while it was yet ten-
der, to the nurture of strangers-ay, of enemies, by whom,
perchance, his blood would have been poured forth as wine,
had the heretic Glendinning known that he had in his house
the heir of Julian Avenel. Since then I have seen him only
in a few hours of doubt and dread, and now I part with the
child of my love-for ever-for ever! Oh, for every weary
step I have made in your rightful cause, in this and in foreign
lands, give protection to the child whom I must no more call
mine!"
"I swear to you, mother," said the Queen, deeply affected,
"that, for your sake and his own, his happiness and fortune
shall be our charge!"
"I thank you, daughter of princes," said Magdalen, and
pressed her lips, first to the Queen's hand, then to the brow
of her grandson. "And now," she said, drying her tears,
and rising with dignity, "earth has had its own, and Heaven
claims the rest. Lioness of Scotland, go forth and conquer!
and if the prayers of a devoted votaress can avail thee, they
THE ABBOT.
457
will rise in many a land, and from many a distant shrine. I
will glide like a ghost from land to land, from temple to tem-
ple; and where the very name of my country is unknown, the
priests shall ask who is the queen of that distant northern
clime, for whom the aged pilgrim was so fervent in prayer.
Farewell! Honour be thine, and earthly prosperity, if it be
the will of God; if not, may the penance thou shalt do here
ensure thy happiness hereafter! Let no one speak or follow
me-my resolution is taken-my vow cannot be cancelled."
She glided from their presence as she spoke, and her last
look was upon her beloved grandchild. He would have risen
and followed, but the Queen and Lord Seyton interfered.
"Press not on her now," said the Lord Seyton, "if you
would not lose her for ever. Many a time have we seen the
sainted mother, and often at the most needful moment; but
to press on her privacy, or to thwart her purpose, is a crime
which she cannot pardon. I trust we shall yet see her at her
need a holy woman she is for certain, and dedicated wholly
to prayer and penance; and hence the heretics hold her as one
distracted, while true Catholics deem her a saint.'
""
""
"Let me then hope," said the Queen, "that you, my lord,
will aid me in the execution of her last request.
"What! in the protection of my young second?-cheerfully
that is, in all that your Majesty can think it fitting to ask
of me.
Henry, give thy hand upon the instant to Roland
Avenel, for so I presume he must now be called."
""
"And shall be lord of the barony," said the Queen, "if God
prosper our rightful arms."
"It can only be to restore it to my kind protectress, who
now holds it," said young Avenel. "I would rather be land-
less all my life than she lost a rood of ground by me.
22
"Nay," said the Queen, looking to Lord Seyton, "his mind
matches his birth. Henry, thou has not yet given thy
hand."
"It is his," said Henry, giving it with some appearance of
courtesy, but whispering Roland at the same time, "For all
this thou hast not my sister's."
"May it please your Grace," said Lord Seyton, "now that
458
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
these passages are over, to honour our poor meal.
were that our banners were reflected in the Clyde.
to horse with as little delay as may be."
CHAPTER. XXXVII.
Ay, sir-our ancient crown, in these wild times,
Oft stood upon a cast; the gamester's ducat,
So often staked, and lost, and then regain'd,
Scarce knew so many hazards.
Time it
We mus*
1
The Spanish Father.
Ir is not our object to enter into the historical part of the
reign of the ill-fated Mary, or to recount how, during the week
which succeeded her flight from Lochleven, her partizans mus-
tered around her with their followers, forming a gallant army,
amounting to six thousand men. So much light has been
lately thrown on the most minute details of the period by Mr.
Chalmers, in his valuable History of Queen Mary, that the
reader may be safely referred to it for the fullest information
which ancient records afford concerning that interesting time.
It is sufficient for our purpose to say, that while Mary's head-
quarters were at Hamilton, the Regent and his adherents had,
in the King's name, assembled a host at Glasgow, inferior
indeed to that of the Queen in numbers, but formidable from
the military talents of Murray, Morton, the Laird of Grange,
and others, who had been trained from their youth in foreign
and domestic wars.
In these circumstances, it was the obvious policy of Queen
Mary to avoid a conflict, secure that, were her person once in
safety, the number of her adherents must daily increase;
whereas, the forces of those opposed to her must, as had fre-
quently happened in the previous history of her reign, have
diminished, and their spirits become broken. And so evident
was this to her counsellors, that they resolved their first step
should be to place the Queen in the strong castle of Dunbar-
ton, there to await the course of events, the arrival of suc-
sours from France, and the levies which were made by her
THE ABBOT.
459
adherents in every province in Scotland. Accordingly, orders
were given that all men should be on horseback or on foot,
apparelled in their armour, and ready to follow the Queen's
standard in array of battle, the avowed determination being
to escort her to the castle of Dunbarton in defiance of her
enemies.
The muster was made upon Hamilton Moor, and the march
commenced in all the pomp of feudal times. Military music
sounded, banners and pennons waved, armour glittered far
and wide, and spears gleamed and twinkled like stars in a
frosty sky. The gallant spectacle of warlike parade was on
this occasion dignified by the presence of the Queen herself,
who, with a fair retinue of ladies and household attendants,
and a special guard of gentlemen, amongst whom young Sey-
ton and Roland were distinguished, gave grace at once and
confidence to the army, which spread its ample files before,
around, and behind her. Many churchmen also joined the
cavalcade, most of whom did not scruple to assume arms, and
declare their intention of wielding them in defence of Mary
and the Catholic faith. Not so the abbot of St. Mary's.
Roland had not seen this prelate since the night of their es-
cape from Lochleven, and he now beheld him, robed in the
dress of his order, assume his station near the Queen's per-
son. Roland hastened to pull off his basnet, and beseech the
abbot's blessing.
"Thou hast it, my son!" said the priest; "I see thee now
under thy true name, and in thy rightful garb. The helmet
with the holly-branch befits your brows well. I have long
waited for the hour thou shouldst assume it."
"Then you knew of my descent, my good father?" said
Roland.
"I did so, but it was under seal of confession from thy
grandmother; nor was I at liberty to tell the secret till she
herself should make it known."
"Her reason for such secrecy, my father?" said Roland
Avenel.
"Fear, perchance, of my brother a mistaken fear, for
Halbert would not, to ensure himself a kingdom, have of-
460
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
fered wrong to an orphan; besides that your title, in quiet
times, even had your father done your mother that justice
which I well hope he did, could not have competed with
that of my brother's wife, the child of Julian's elder brother."
"They need fear no competition from me," said Avenel.
Scotland is wide enough, and there are many manors to
win, without plundering my benefactor. But prove to me,
my reverend father, that my father was just to my mother;
show me that I may call myself a legitimate Avenel, and
make me your bounden slave for ever!”
“Ay,” replied the abbot, "I hear the Seytons hold thee
cheap for that stain on thy shield. Something, however, I
have learnt from the late Abbot Boniface, which, if it prove
sooth, may redeem that reproach."
"Tell me that blessed news," said Roland, "and the future
service of my life——”
"Rash boy!" said the abbot, "I should but madden thine
impatient temper by exciting hopes that may never be ful-
filled, and is this a time for them? Think on what perilous
march we are bound, and if thou hast a sin unconfessed, neg-
lect not the only leisure which Heaven may perchance afford
thee for confession and absolution."
"There will be time enough for both, I trust, when we
reach Dunbarton," answered the page.
"Ay," said the abbot, "thou crowest as loudly as the rest;
but we are not yet at Dunbarton, and there is a lion in the
path."
ሆ
“Mean you Murray, Morton, and the other rebels at Glas-
gow, my reverend father? Tush! they dare not look on the
royal banne.."
"Even so,” replied the abbot, "speak many of those who
are older, and should be wiser, than thou. I have returned
from the southern shires, where I left many a chief of name
arming in the Queen's interest. I left the lords here wise
and considerate men; I find them madmen on my return :
they are willing, for mere pride and vainglory, to brave the
enemy, and to carry the Queen, as it were in triumph, past
the walls of Glasgow, and under the beards of the adverse
¡
THE ABBOT.
461
Seldom does Heaven smile on such mistimed confi-
We shall be encountered, and that to the purpose."
"And so much the better," replied Roland; "the field of
battle was my cradle."
"But
"Beware it be not thy dying-bed," said the abbot.
what avails it whispering to young wolves the dangers of the
chase? You will know, perchance, ere this day is out, what
yonder men are, whom you hold in rash contempt."
"Why, what are they?" said Henry Seyton, who now
joined them. 'Have they sinews of wire and flesh of iron?
Will lead pierce and steel cut them? If so, reverend father,
we have little fear."
army.
dence.
"They are evil men," said the abbot, "but the trade of
war demands no saints. Murray and Morton are known to
be the best generals in Scotland. No one ever saw Linde-
say's or Ruthven's back. Kirkcaldy of Grange was named
by the Constable Montmorency the first soldier in Europe.
My brother, too good a name for such a cause, has been far
and wide known for a leader.”
we
"The better-the better!" said Seyton, triumphantly;
shall have all these traitors of rank and name in a fair field
before us. Our cause is the best, our numbers are the strong-
est, our hearts and limbs match theirs. St. Bennet, and
set on!"
66
The abbot made no reply, but seemed lost in reflection; and
hiss anxiety in some measure communicated itself to Roland
Avenel, who ever, as their line of march led over a ridge or
an eminence, cast an anxious look towards the towers of Glas-
gow, as if he expected to see symptoms of the enemy issuing
forth. It was not that he feared the fight, but the issue was
such deep import to his country and to himself that the natu-
ral fire of his spirit burned with a less lively, though with a
more intense, glow. Love, honour, fame, fortune, all seemed
to depend on the issue of one field, rashly hazarded perhaps,
but now likely to become unavoidable and decisive.
When, at length, their march came to be nearly parallel
with the city of Glasgow, Roland became sensible that the
high grounds before them were already in part occupied by
---
462.
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
a force, showing, like their own, the royal banner of Scot-
land, and on the point of being supported by columns of in-
fantry and squadrons of horse, which the city gates had poured
forth, and which hastily advanced to sustain those troops who
already possessed the ground in front of the Queen's forces.
Horseman after horseman galloped in from the advanced
guard, with tidings that Murray had taken the field with his
whole army; that his object was to intercept the Queen's
march, and his purpose unquestionable to hazard a battle. It
was now that the tempers of men were subjected to a sudden
and a severe trial; and those who had too presumptuously
concluded that they should pass without combat were some-
thing disconcerted, when, at once, and with little time to de-
liberate, they found themselves placed in front of a resolute
enemy. Their chiefs immediately assembled around the
Queen, and held a hasty council of war. Mary's quivering
lip confessed the fear which she endeavoured to conceal under
a bold and dignified demeanour. But her efforts were over-
come by painful recollections of the disastrous issue of her
last appearance in arms at Carberry Hill; and, when she
meant to have asked them their advice for ordering the battle,
she involuntarily inquired whether there were no means of
escaping without an engagement?
"Escaping!" answered the Lord Seyton. "When I stand
as one to ten of your Highness's enemies I may think of es-
cape, but never while I stand with three to two!"
"Battle!-battle!" exclaimed the assembled lords; "we will
drive the rebels from their vantage ground, as the hound turns
the hare on the hillside."
"Methinks, my noble lords," said the abbot, "it were as
well to prevent his gaining that advantage. Our road lies
through yonder hamlet on the brow, and whichever party hath
the luck to possess it, with its little gardens and inclosures,
will attain a post of great defence."
"The reverend father is right," said the Queen. "Oh, haste
thee, Seyton-haste, and get thither before them; they are
marching like the wind."
Seyton bowed low, and turned his horse's head. "Your
THE ABBOT.
463
Highness honours me," he said; "I will instantly press for-
ward and seize the pass."
"Not before me, my lord, whose charge is the command of
the vanguard," said the Lord of Arbroath.
my
"Before you, or any Hamilton in Scotland," said the Sey-
ton, "having the Queen's command. Follow me, gentlemen,
vassals and kinsmen. St. Bennet, and set on!"
"And follow me," said Arbroath, "my noble kinsmen and
brave men-tenants; we will see which will first reach the post
of danger. For God and Queen Mary!"
"Ill-omened haste and most unhappy strife," said the ab-
bot, who saw them and their followers rush hastily and emu-
lously to ascend the height, without waiting till their men
were placed in order. "And you, gentlemen," he continued,
addressing Roland and Seyton, who were each about to follow
those who hastened thus disorderly to the conflict, "will you
leave the Queen's person unguarded?"
"Oh, leave me not, gentlemen!" said the Queen-"Roland
and Seyton, do not leave me; there are enough of arms to
strike in this fell combat-withdraw not those to whom I trust
for my safety!"
"We may not leave her Grace," said Roland, looking at
Seyton, and turning his horse.
“I ever looked when thou wouldest find out that," rejoined
the fiery youth.
Roland made no answer, but bit his lip till the blood came,
and spurring his horse up to the side of Catherine Seyton's
palfrey, he whispered in a low voice, “I never thought to have
done aught to deserve you; but this day I heard myself up-
braided with cowardice, and my sword remained still sheathed,
and all for the love of you."
M
"There is madness among us all," said the damsel: "
my
father, my brother, and you are all alike bereft of reason.
Ye should think only of this poor Queen, and you are all in-
spired by your own absurd jealousies. The monk is the only
soldier and man of sense amongst you all. My lord abbot,"
she cried aloud, "were it not better we should draw to the
westward, and wait the event that God shall send us, instead
464
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
of remaining here in the highway, endangering the Queen's
person, and cumbering the troops in their advance?"
"You say well, my daughter," replied the abbot; “had we
but one to guide us where the Queen's person may be in safety!
Our nobles hurry to the conflict, without casting a thought on
the very cause of the war."
"Follow me," said a knight, or man-at-arms, well mounted,
and accoutred completely in black armour, but having the
visor of his helmet closed, and bearing no crest on his helmet,
or device upon his shield.
"We will follow no stranger," said the abbot, "without
some warrant of his truth."
"I am a stranger and in your hands," said the horseman;
"if you wish to know more of me, the Queen herself will be
your warrant.
99
The Queen had remained fixed to the spot, as if disabled
by fear, yet mechanically smiling, bowing, and waving her
hand, as banners were lowered and spears depressed before
her, while, emulating the strife betwixt Seyton and Arbroath,
band on band pressed forward their march towards the enemy.
Scarce, however, had the black rider whispered something in
her ear, than she assented to what he said; and when he
spoke aloud, and with an air of command, "Gentlemen, it is
the Queen's pleasure that you should follow me," Mary ut-
tered, with something like eagerness, the word "Yes."
All were in motion in an instant; for the black horseman,
throwing off a sort of apathy of manner which his first ap-
pearance indicated, spurred his horse to and fro, making him
take such active bounds and short turns as showed the rider
master of the animal; and getting the Queen's little retinue
in some order for marching, he led them to the left, directing
his course towards a castle, which, crowning a gentle yet com-
manding eminence, presented an extensive view over the coun-
try beneath, and, in particular, commanded a view of those
heights which both armies hastened to occupy, and which it
was now apparent must almost instantly be the scene of strug-
gle and dispute.
"Yonder towers," said the abbot, questioning the sable
--
THE ABBOT.
465
horseman, "to whom do they belong? and are they now in
the hands of friends?" ·
"They are untenanted," replied the stranger, "or, at least,
they have no hostile inmates. But urge these youths, sir ab-
bot, to make more haste; this is but an evil time to satisfy
their idle curiosity, by peering out upon the battle in which
they are to take no share.”
"The worse luck mine," said Henry Seyton, who overheard
him; "I would rather be under my father's banner at this
moment than be made chamberlain of Holyrood, for this
my present duty of peaceful ward well and patiently dis-
charged."
"Your place under your father's banner will shortly be
right dangerous," said Roland Avenel, who, pressing his
horse towards the westward, had still his look reverted to
the armies; "for I see yonder body of cavalry which presses
from the eastward will reach the village ere Lord Seyton can
gain it."
→
"They are but cavalry," said Seyton, looking attentively;
"they cannot hold the village without shot of harquebuss."
'Look more closely," said Roland; "you will see that each
of these horsemen who advance so rapidly from Glasgow car-
ries a footman behind him."
((
"Now, by Heaven, he speaks well!" said the black cava-
lier; one of you two must go carry the news to Lord Seyton
and Lord Arbroath, that they hasten not their horsemen on
before the foot, but advance more regularly."
"Be that my errand," said Roland, "for I first marked the
stratagem of the enemy."
"But, by your leave," said Seyton, "yonder is my father's
banner engaged, and it best becomes me to go to the rescue.
"I will stand by the Queen's decision," said Roland Avenel.
"What new appeal?-what new quarrel?" said Queen
Mary. "Are there not in yonder dark host enemies enough
to Mary Stuart, but must her very friends turn enemies to
each other?"
""
"Nay, madam," said Roland, "the young Master of Seyton
and I did but dispute who should leave your person to do
30
466
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
a most needful message to the host. He thought his rank
entitled him, and I deemed that the person of least conse-
quence, being myself, were better perilled-
""
"Not so," said the Queen; "if one must leave me, be it
Seyton."
Henry Seyton bowed till the white plumes on his helmet.
mixed with the flowing mane of his gallant war-horse, then
placed himself firm in the saddle, shook his lance aloft with
an air of triumph and determination, and striking his horse
with the spurs, made towards his father's banner, which was
still advancing up the hill, and dashed his steed over every
obstacle that occurred in his headlong path.
pak
"My brother! my father!" exclaimed Catherine, with an
expression of agonised apprehension-"they are in the midst
of peril, and I in safety!"
"Would to God," said Roland, "that I were with them,
and could ransom every drop of their blood by two of mine!”
"Do I not know thou dost wish it?" said Catherine.
"Can
a woman say to a man what I have wellnigh said to thee, and
yet think that he could harbour fear or faintness of heart?
There is that in yon distant sound of approaching battle that
pleases me even while it affrights me. I would I were a man,
that I might feel that stern delight without the mixture of
terror!"
"Ride up-ride up, Lady Catherine Seyton," cried the ab-
bot, as they still swept on at a rapid pace, and were now close
beneath the walls of the castle "ride up, and aid Lady
Fleming to support the Queen-she gives way more and
more."
K
They halted and lifted Mary from the saddle, and were
about to support her towards the castle, when she said faint-
ly, "Not there not there: these walls will I never enter
more!"
""
"Be a queen, madam," said the abbot, "and forget that
you are a woman.
"Oh, I must forget much-much more," answered the
unfortunate Mary, in an undertone, "ere I can look with
steady eyes on these well-known scenes! I must forget the
THE ABBOT.
467
days which I spent here as the bride of the lost-the mur-
dered
""
"This is the Castle of Crookstone," said the Lady Fleming,
"in which the Queen held her first court after she was mar-
ried to Darnley."
"Heaven," said the abbot, "Thy hand is upon us! Bear
yet up, madam; your foes are the foes of Holy Church, and
God will this day decide whether Scotland shall be Catholic
or heretic."
A heavy and continued fire of cannon and musketry bore a
tremendous burden to his words, and seemed far more than
they to recall the spirits of the Queen.
"To yonder tree," she said, pointing to a yew-tree which
grew on a small mount close to the castle; "I know it well-
from thence you may see a prospect wide as from the peaks
of Schehallion."
→
And freeing herself from her assistants, she walked with a
determined, yet somewhat wild, step up to the stem of the
noble yew. The abbot, Catherine, and Roland Avenel followed
her, while Lady Fleming kept back the inferior persons of
her train. The black horseman also followed the Queen, wait-
ing on her as closely as the shadow upon the light, but ever
remaining at the distance of two or three yards; he folded
his arms on his bosom, turned his back to the battle, and
seemed solely occupied by gazing on Mary through the bars
of his closed visor. The Queen regarded him not, but fixed
her eyes upon the spreading yew.
"Ay, fair and stately tree," she said, as if at the sight of
it she had been rapt away from the present scene, and had
overcome the horror which had oppressed her at the first ap-
proach to Crookstone, "there thou standest, gay and goodly
as ever, though thou hearest the sounds of war instead of the
vows of love. All is gone since I last greeted thee-love and
lover-vows and vower-king and kingdom. How goes the
field, my lord abbot? with us, I trust; yet what but evil can
Mary's eyes witness from this spot?"
Her attendants eagerly bent their eyes on the field of bat-
tle, but could discover nothing more than that it was obsti-
468
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
nately contested. The small inclosures and cottage gardens
in the village, of which they had a full and commanding view,
and which shortly before lay, with their lines of sycamore and
ash-trees, so still and quiet in the mild light of a May sun,
were now each converted into a line of fire, canopied by smoke;
and the sustained and constant report of the musketry and
cannon, mingled with the shouts of the meeting combatants,
showed that as yet neither party had given ground.
"Many a soul finds its final departure to heaven or hell in
these awful thunders," said the abbot; "let those that believe
in the Holy Church join me in orisons for victory in this
dreadful combat."
“Not here—not here," said the unfortunate Queen—“ pray
not here, father, or pray in silence; my mind is too much
torn between the past and the present to dare to approach the
Heavenly throne. Or, if ye will pray, be it for one whose
fondest affections have been her greatest crimes, and who
has ceased to be a queen only because she was a deceived and
a tender-hearted woman.
"Were it not well," said Roland, "that I rode somewhat
nearer the hosts, and saw the fate of the day?"
"Do so, in the name of God," said the abbot; "for if our
friends are scattered, our flight must be hasty; but beware
thou approach not too nigh the conflict: there is more than
thine own life depends on thy safe return."
"Oh, go not too nigh," said Catherine; "but fail not to see
how the Seytons fight, and how they bear themselves."
"Fear nothing, I will be on my guard," said Roland Ave-
nel; and without waiting further answer, rode towards the
scene of conflict, keeping, as he rode, the higher and unin-
closed ground, and ever looking cautiously around him, for
fear of involving himself in some hostile party. As he ap-
proached, the shots rung sharp and more sharply on his ear,
the shouts came wilder and wilder, and he felt that thick
beating of the heart, that mixture of natural apprehension,
intense curiosity, and anxiety for the dubious event, which
even the bravest experience when they approach alone to a
scene of interest and of danger,
99
3
THE ABBOT.
469
At length he drew so close that, from a bank, screened by
bushes and underwood, he could distinctly see where the
struggle was most keenly maintained. This was in a hollow
way, leading to the village, up which the Queen's vanguard
had marched, with more hasty courage than weel-advised con-
duct, for the purpose of possessing themselves of that post of
advantage. They found their scheme anticipated, and the
hedges and inclosures already occupied by the enemy, led by
the celebrated Kirkcaldy of Grange and the Earl of Morton ;
and not small was the loss which they sustained while strug-
gling forward to come to close with the men-at-arms on the
other side. But, as the Queen's followers were chiefly noble-
men and barons, with their kinsmen and followers, they had
pressed onward, contemning obstacles and danger, and had,
when Roland arrived on the ground, met hand to hand at the
gorge of the pass with the Regent's vanguard, and endeav-
oured to bear them out of the village at the spear-point; while
their foes, equally determined to keep the advantage which
they had attained, struggled with the like obstinacy to drive
back the assailants.
Both parties were on foot, and armed in proof; so that,
when the long lances of the front ranks were fixed in each
other's shields, corslets, and breastplates, the struggle resem-
bled that of two bulls, who, fixing their frontlets hard against
each other, remain in that posture for hours, until the supe-
rior strength or obstinacy of the one compels the other to take
to flight, or bears him down to the earth. Thus locked to-
gether in the deadly struggle, which swayed slowly to and fro
as one or other party gained the advantage, those who fell
were trampled on alike by friends and foes; those whose
weapons were broken retired from the front rank, and had
their place supplied by others; while the rearward ranks, un-
able otherwise to take share in the combat, fired their pistols
and hurled their daggers, and the points and truncheons of
the broken weapons, like javelins against the enemy.
(6
God and the Queen!" resounded from the one party;
"God
and the King!" thundered from the other; while, in the name
of their sovereign, fellow-subjects on both sides shed each
470
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
other's blood, and, in the name of their Creator, defaced His
image. Amid the tumult was often heard the voices of the
captains shouting their commands, of leaders and chiefs cry-
ing their gathering words, of groans and shrieks from the
falling and the dying.
The strife had lasted nearly an hour. The strength of both
parties seemed exhausted; but their rage was unabated, and
their obstinacy unsubdued, when Roland, who turned eye and
ear to all around him, saw a column of infantry, headed by a
few horsemen, wheel round the base of the bank where he had
stationed himself, and, levelling their long lances, attack the
flank of the Queen's vanguard, closely engaged as they were
in conflict on their front. The very first glance showed him
that the leader who directed this movement was the Knight of
Avenel, his ancient master; and the next convinced him that
its effect would be decisive. The result of the attack of fresh
and unbroken forces upon the flank of those already wearied
with a long and obstinate struggle was, indeed, instantaneous.
The column of the assailants, which had hitherto shown one
dark, dense, and united line of helmets, surmounted with
plumage, was at once broken and hurled in confusion down
the hill, which they had so long endeavoured to gain. In
vain were the leaders heard calling upon their followers to
stand to the combat, and seen personally resisting when all
resistance was evidently vain. They were slain, or felled to
the earth, or hurried backwards by the mingled tide of flight
and pursuit. What were Roland's thoughts on beholding the
rout, and feeling that all that remained for him was to turn
bridle, and endeavour to ensure the safety of the Queen's per-
son! Yet, keen as his grief and shame might be, they were
both forgotten when, almost close beneath the bank which he
occupied, he saw Henry Seyton forced away from his own
party in the tumult, covered with dust and blood, and defend-
ing himself desperately against several of the enemy who had
gathered around him, attracted by his gay armour. Roland
paused not a moment, but pushing his steed down the bank,
leaped him amongst the hostile party, dealt three or four
blows amongst them, which struck down two and made the
N
·
THE ABBOT.
471
rest stay aloof, then reaching Seyton his hand, he exhorted
him to seize fast hold on his horse's mane.
"We live or die together this day," said he; "keep but fast
hold till we are out of the press, and then my horse is yours.
"3
Seyton heard, and exerted his remaining strength, and, by
their joint efforts, Roland brought him out of danger, and be-
hind the spot from whence he had witnessed the disastrous
conclusion of the fight. But no sooner were they under shel-
ter of the trees than Seyton let go his hold, and, in spite of
Roland's efforts to support him, fell at length on the turf.
"Trouble yourself no more with me," he said, "this is my
first and my last battle, and I have already seen too much of
it to wish to see the close. Hasten to save the Queen-and
commend me to Catherine; she will never more be mistaken
for me nor I for her-the last sword-stroke has made an eter-
nal distinction."
"Let me aid you to mount my horse," said Roland, eagerly,
66 and you may yet be saved. I can find my own way on foot.
Turn but my horse's head westward, and he will carry you
fleet and easy as the wind."
66
"I will never mount steed more," said the youth; 'fare-
well! I love thee better dying than ever I thought to have
done while in life. I would that old man's blood were not on
my hand!
Sancte Benedicte, ora pro me! Stand not to look
on a dying man, but haste to save the Queen!"
These words were spoken with the last effort of his voice,
and scarce were they uttered ere the speaker was no more.
They recalled Roland to the sense of the duty which he had
wellnigh forgotten, but they did not reach his ears only.
"The Queen-where is the Queen?" said Sir Halbert Glen-
dinning, who, followed by two or three horsemen, appeared
at this instant. Roland made no answer, but turning his
horse, and confiding in his speed, gave him at once rein and
spur, and rode ver height and hollow towards the Castle of
Crookstone. More heavily armed, and mounted upon a horse
of less speed, Sir Halbert Glendinning followed with couched
lance, calling out as he rode, "Sir with the holly-branch,
halt, and show your right to bear that badge: fly not thus
472
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
cowardly, nor dishonour the cognizance thou deservest not to
wear! Halt, sir coward, or, by Heaven, I will strike thee
with my lance on the back, and slay thee like a dastard.
am the Knight of Avenel-I am Sir Halbert Glendinning."
I
But Roland, who had no purpose of encountering his old
master, and who, besides, knew the Queen's safety depended
on his making the best speed he could, answered not a word
to the defiances and reproaches which Sir Halbert continued
to throw out against him; but, making the best use of his
spurs, rode yet harder than before, and had gained about a
hundred yards upon his pursuer, when, coming near to the
yew-tree where he had left the Queen, he saw them already
getting to horse, and cried out as loud as he could: "Foes!—
foes! Ride for it, fair ladies. Brave gentlemen, do your
devoir to protect them!”
So saying, he wheeled his horse, and avoiding the shock of
Sir Halbert Glendinning, charged one of that knight's follow-
ers, who was nearly on a line with him, so rudely with his
lance that he overthrew horse and man. He then drew his
sword and attacked the second, while the black man-at-arms,
throwing himself in the way of Glendinning, they rushed on
each other so fiercely that both horses were overthrown, and
the riders lay rolling on the plain. Neither was able to arise,
for the black horseman was pierced through with Glendin-
ning's lance, and the Knight of Avenel, oppressed with the
weight of his own horse, and sorely bruised besides, seemed
in little better plight than he whom he had mortally wounded.
"Yield thee, Sir Knight of Avenel, rescue or no rescue,'
said Roland, who had put a second antagonist out of condi-
tion to combat, and hastened to prevent Glendinning from
renewing the conflict.
"I may not choose but yield," said Sir Halbert, "since I
can no longer fight; but it shames me to speak such a word
to a coward like thee!"
""
"Call me not coward," said Roland, lifting his visor, and
helping his prisoner to rise, "since but for old kindness at
thy hand, and yet more at thy lady's, I had met thee as a
brave man should."
i
THE ABBOT.
473
"The favourite page of my wife!" said Sir Halbert, aston-
ished. 'Ah! wretched boy, I have heard of thy treason at
Lochleven."
"Reproach him not, my brother," said the abbot, "he was
but an agent in the hands of Heaven."
"To horse—to horse!" said Catherine Seyton; "mount and
be gone, or we are all lost. I see our gallant army flying for
many a league. To horse, my lord abbot! To horse, Ro-
land! My gracious liege, to horse! Ere this, we should
have ridden a mile."
•
"Look on these features," said Mary, pointing to the dying
knight, who had been unhelmed by some compassionate hand
"look there, and tell me if she who ruins all who love her
ought to fly a foot farther to save her wretched life!"
The reader must have long anticipated the discovery which
the Queen's feelings had made before her eyes confirmed it.
It was the features of the unhappy George Douglas, on which
death was stamping his mark.
"Look-look at him well," said the Queen, "thus has it
been with all that loved Mary Stuart! The royalty of Fran-
cis, the wit of Chastelar, the power and gallantry of the gay
Gordon, the melody of Rizzio, the portly form and youthful
grace of Darnley, the bold address and courtly manners of
Bothwell, and now the deep-devoted passion of the noble
Douglas-nought could save them: they looked on the wretch-
ed Mary, and to have loved her was crime enough to deserve
early death! No sooner had the victim formed a kind thought
of me than the poisoned cup, the axe and block, the dagger,
the mine were ready to punish them for casting away affec-
tion on such a wretch as I am! Importune me not: I will
fly no farther. I can die but once, and I will die here."
While she spoke, her tears fell fast on the face of the dying
man, who continued to fix his eyes on her with an eagerness
of passion which death itself could hardly subdue. "Mourn
not for me," said he said faintly, "but care for your safety.
I die in mine armour as a Douglas should, and I die pitied
by Mary Stuart!"
He expired with these words, and without withdrawing his
474
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
66
66
eyes from her face; and the Queen, whose heart was of that
soft and gentle mould which in domestic life, and with a more
suitable partner than Darnley, might have made her happy,
remained weeping by the dead man, until recalled to herself
by the abbot, who found it necessary to use a style of un-
usual remonstrance. 'We also, madam," he said—" we, your
Grace's devoted followers, have friends and relatives to weep
for. I leave a brother in imminent jeopardy-the husband
of the Lady Fleming-the father and brother of the Lady
Catherine, are all in yonder bloody field, slain, it is to be
feared, or prisoners. We forget the fate of our own nearest
and dearest to wait on our Queen, and she is too much occu-
pied with her own sorrows to give one thought to ours.
"I deserve not your reproach, father," said the Queen,
checking her tears; "but I am docile to it. Where must we
go? what must we do?”
""
"We must fly, and that instantly," said the abbot; "whither
is not so easily answered, but we may dispute it upon the
road. Lift her to her saddle, and set forward."¹
They set off accordingly. Roland lingered a moment to
command the attendants of the Knight of Avenel to convey
their master to the Castle of Crookstone, and to say that he
demanded from him no other condition of liberty than his
word that he and his followers would keep secret the direction
in which the Queen fled. As he turned his rein to depart, the
honest countenance of Adam Woodcock stared upon him with
an expression of surprise which, at another time, would have
excited his hearty mirth. He had been one of the followers
who had experienced the weight of Roland's arm, and they
now knew each other, Roland having put up his visor, and
the good yeoman having thrown away his barret-cap, with the
iron bars in front, that he might the more readily assist his
master. Into this barret-cap, as it lay on the ground, Roland
forgot not to drop a few gold pieces (fruits of the Queen's
liberality), and with a signal of kind recollection and enduring
friendship, he departed at full gallop to overtake the Queen,
the dust raised by her train being already far down the hill.
¹ See Battle of Langside. Note 27.
THE ABBOT.
475
"It is not fairy money," said honest Adam, weighing and
handling the gold. And it was Master Roland himself, that
is a certain thing. The same open hand, and by Our Lady!
(shrugging his shoulders) the same ready fist! My lady will
hear of this gladly, for she mourns for him as if he were her
son. And to see how gay he is! But these light lads are as
sure to be uppermost as the froth to be on the top of the quart-
pot. Your man of solid parts remains ever a falconer.” So
saying, he went to aid his comrades, who had now come up
in greater numbers, to carry his master into the Castle of
Crookstone.
66
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
My native land, good-night!
BYRON.
MANY a bitter tear was shed during the hasty flight of Queen
Mary, over fallen hopes, future prospects, and slaughtered
friends. The deaths of the brave Douglas and of the fiery
but gallant young Seyton seemed to affect the Queen as much
as the fall from the throne, on which she had so nearly been
again seated. Catherine Seyton devoured in secret her own
grief, anxious to support the broken spirits of her mistress;
and the abbot, bending his troubled thoughts upon futurity,
endeavoured in vain to form some plan which had a shadow
of hope.
The spirit of young Roland-for he also mingled in
the hasty debates held by the companions of the Queen's flight
-continued unchecked and unbroken.
"Your Majesty," he said, "has lost a battle. Your ancestor
Bruce lost seven successively, ere he sat triumphant on the
Scottish throne, and proclaimed, with the voice of a victor, in
the field of Bannockburn, the independence of his country.
Are not these heaths, which we may traverse at will, better
than the locked, guarded, and lake-moated Castle of Loch-
leven? We are free; in that one word there is comfort for
all our losses."
476
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
He struck a bold note, but the heart of Mary made no
response.
"Better," she said, "I had still been in Lochleven than
seen the slaughter made by rebels among the subjects who
offered themselves to death for my sake. Speak not to me of
further efforts; they would only cost the lives of you, the
friends who recommend them! I would not again undergo
what I felt when I saw from yonder mount the swords of the
fell horsemen of Morton raging among the faithful Seytons
and Hamiltons, for their loyalty to their Queen; I would not
again feel what I felt when Douglas's life-blood stained my
mantle for his love to Mary Stuart-not to be empress of all
that Britain's seas inclose. Find for me some place where I
can hide my unhappy head, which brings destruction on all
who love it; it is the last favour that Mary asks of her faith-
ful followers.'
J
In this dejected mood, but still pursuing her flight with
unabated rapidity, the unfortunate Mary, after having been
joined by Lord Herries and a few followers, at length halted,
for the first time, at the Abbey of Dundrennan, nearly sixty
miles distant from the field of battle. In this remote corner
of Galloway, the Reformation not having yet been strictly en-
forced against the monks, a few still lingered in their cells
unmolested; and the prior, with tears and reverence, received
the fugitive Queen at the gate of his convent.
"I bring you ruin, my good father," said the Queen, as she
was lifted from her palfrey.
"It is welcome," said the prior, "if it comes in the train
of duty."
Placed on the ground, and supported by her ladies, the
Queen looked for an instant at her palfrey, which, jaded and
drooping its head, seemed as if it mourned the distresses of
its mistress.
"Good Roland," said the Queen, whispering, "let Rosabelle
be cared for: ask thy heart, and it will tell thee why I make
this trifling request even in this awful hour."
She was conducted to her apartment, and in the hurried
consultation of her attendants the fatal resolution of the re-
THE ABBOT.
477
treat to England was finally adopted. In the morning it re-
ceived her approbation, and a messenger was despatched to
the English warden, to pray him for safe conduct and hospi-
tality, on the part of the Queen of Scotland. On the next
day, the Abbot Ambrose walked in the garden of the abbey
with Roland, to whom he expressed his disapprobation of the
course pursued. "It is madness and ruin," he said: "better
commit herself to the savage Highlanders or wild Bordermen
than to the faith of Elizabeth. A woman to a rival woman
a presumptive successor to the keeping of a jealous and child-
less queen! Roland, Herries is true and loyal, but his counsel
has ruined his mistress."
"Ay, ruin follows us everywhere,” said an old man, with a
spade in his hand, and dressed like a lay-brother, of whose
presence, in the vehemence of his exclamation, the abbot had
not been aware.
"Gaze not on me with such wonder!
I am
he who was the Abbot Boniface at Kennaquhair, who was the
gardener Blinkhoolie at Lochleven, hunted round to the place
in which I served my noviciate, and now ye are come to rouse
me up again! A weary life I have had, for one to whom
peace was ever the dearest blessing!"
"We will soon rid you of our company, good father,” said
the abbot; “and the Queen will, I fear, trouble your retreat
""
no more.
"Nay, you said as much before," said the querulous old
man, "and yet I was put forth from Kinross, and pillaged by
troopers on the road. They took from me the certificate that
you wot of—that of the baron; ay, he was a moss-trooper like
themselves. You asked me of it, and I could never find it,
but they found it; it showed the marriage of—of—my memory
fails me. Now see how men differ! Father Nicolas would
have told you an hundred tales of the Abbot Ingelram, on
whose soul God have mercy! He was, I warrant you, four-
score and six, and I am not more than let me see-
""
"Was not 'Avenel' the name you seek, my good father?”
said Roland, impatiently, yet moderating his tone for fear of
alarming or offending the infirm old man.
66
Ay, right-Avenel-Julian Avenel. You are perfect in
B
478
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the name.
I kept all the special confessions, judging it held
with my vow to do so. I could not find it when my succes-
sor, Ambrosius, spoke on't; but the troopers found it, and
the knight who commanded the party struck his breast till
his hauberk clattered like an empty watering-can."
"St. Mary!" said the abbot, "in whom could such a paper
excite such interest? What was the appearance of the knight,
his arms, his colours?"
"Ye distract me with your questions. I dared hardly look
at him; they charged me with bearing letters for the Queen,
and searched my mail. This was all along of your doings at
Lochleven."
"I trust in God," said the abbot to Roland, who stood beside
him, shivering and trembling with impatience, "the paper has
fallen into the hands of my brother. I heard he had been with
his followers on the scout betwixt Stirling and Glasgow. Bore
not the knight a holly-bough in his helmet? Canst thou not
remember?”
"Oh, remember-remember," said the old man, pettishly;
count as many years as I do, if your plots will let you, and
see what, and how much, you remember. Why, I scarce
remember the pearmains which I graffed here with my own
hands some fifty years since."
At this moment a bugle sounded loudly from the beach.
"It is the death-blast to Queen Mary's royalty!" said Am-
brosius: "the English warden's answer has been received—
favourable, doubtless, for when was the door of the trap
closed against the prey which it was set for? Droop not,
Roland, this matter shall be sifted to the bottom; but we
must not now leave the Queen. Follow me; let us do our
duty, and trust the issue with God. Farewell, good father;
I will visit thee again soon."
He was about to leave the garden, followed by Roland, with
half-reluctant steps. The ex-abbot resumed his spade.
"I could be sorry for these men," he said, "ay, and for
that poor queen, but what avail earthly sorrows to a man of
fourscore? and it is a rare dropping morning for the early
colewort."
66
THE ABBOT.
479
!
(6
"He is stricken with age," said Ambrosius, as he dragged
Roland down to the sea-beach; we must let him take his
time to collect himself. Nothing now can be thought on but
the fate of the Queen.”
They soon arrived where she stood, surrounded by her little
train, and by her side the sheriff of Cumberland, a gentleman
of the house of Lowther, richly dressed, and accompanied by
soldiers. The aspect of the Queen exhibited a singular mix-
ture of alacrity and reluctance to depart. Her language and
gestures spoke hope and consolation to her attendants, and she
seemed desirous to persuade even herself that the step she
adopted was secure, and that the assurance she had received
of kind reception was altogether satisfactory; but her quiver-
ing lip and unsettled eye betrayed at once her anguish at de-
parting from Scotland and her fears of confiding herself to the
doubtful faith of England.
"Welcome, my lord abbot," she said, speaking to Ambro-
sius, "and you, Roland Avenel, we have joyful news for you:
our loving sister's officer proffers us, in her name, a safe asy-
lum from the rebels who have driven us from our own; only
it grieves me we must here part from you for a short space.'
"Part from us, madam!" said the abbot, 'Is your wel-
come in England, then, to commence with the abridgement of
your train and dismissal of your counsellors?"
99
(6
"Take it not thus, good father," said Mary; "the warden
and the sheriff, faithful servants of our royal sister, deem it
necessary to obey her instructions in the present case, even
to the letter, and can only take upon them to admit me with
my female attendants. An express will instantly be despatched
from London, assigning me a place of residence; and I will
speedily send to all of you whenever my court shall be
formed."
"Your court formed in England! and while Elizabeth lives
and reigns?" said the abbot; "that will be when we shall see
two suns in one heaven!"
66
"Do not think so," replied the Queen; we are well assured
of our sister's good faith. Elizabeth loves fame; and not all
that she has won by her power and her wisdom will equal that
480
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
which she will acquire by extending her hospitality to a dis-
tressed sister; not all that she may hereafter do of good, wise,
and great, would blot out the reproach of abusing our confi-
dence. Farewell, my page-now my knight-farewell for a
brief season. I will dry the tears of Catherine, or I will weep
with her till neither of us can weep longer.'
"" She held out
her hand to Roland, who, flinging himself on his knees, kissed
it with much emotion. He was about to render the same hom-
age to Catherine, when the Queen, assuming an air of spright-
liness, said: "Her lips, thou foolish boy! and, Catherine,
coy it not; these English gentlemen should see that, even
in our cold clime, beauty knows how to reward bravery and
fidelity!"
"We are not now to learn the force of Scottish beauty, or
the mettle of Scottish valour," said the sheriff of Cumberland,
courteously. "I would it were in my power to bid these attend-
ants upon her who is herself the mistress of Scottish beauty
as welcome to England as my poor cares would make them.
But our Queen's orders are positive in case of such an emer-
gence, and they must not be disputed by her subject. May I
remind your Majesty that the tide ebbs fast?"
The sheriff took the Queen's hand, and she had already
placed her foot on the gangway by which she was to enter the
skiff, when the abbot, starting from a trance of grief and as-
tonishment at the words of the sheriff, rushed into the water,
and seized upon her mantle.
66
"She foresaw it!-she foresaw it!" he exclaimed- she
foresaw your flight into her realm; and, foreseeing it, gave
orders you should be thus received. Blinded, deceived,
doomed princess! your fate is sealed when you quit this
strand. Queen of Scotland, thou shalt not leave thine heri-
tage!" he continued, holding a still firmer grasp upon her
mantle; "true men shall turn rebels to thy will, that they
may save thee from captivity or death. Fear not the bills
and bows whom that gay man has at his beck: we will with-
stand him by force. Oh, for the arm of my warlike brother!
Roland Avenel, draw thy sword!"
"The Queen stood irresolute and frightened-one foot upon
THE ABBOT.
481
the plank, the other on the sand of her native shore, which
she was quitting for ever.
"What needs this violence, sir priest?" said the sheriff of
Cumberland. "I came hither at your Queen's command, to
do her service; and I will depart at her least order, if she re-
jects such aid as I can offer. No marvel is it if our Queen's
wisdom foresaw that such chance as this might happen amidst
the turmoils of your unsettled state; and, while willing to
afford fair hospitality to her royal sister, deemed it wise to
prohibit the entrance of a broken army of her followers into
the English frontier."
"You hear," said Queen Mary, gently unloosing her robe
from the abbot's grasp, "that we exercise full liberty of choice
in leaving this shore; and, questionless, the choice will remain
free to us in going to France, or returning to our own domin-
ions, as we shall determine. Besides, it is too late. Your
blessing, father, and God speed thee!"
66
May He have mercy on thee, Princess, and speed thee
also!" said the abbot, retreating. 'But my soul tells me I
look on thee for the last time!"
The sails were hoisted, the oars were plied, the vessel went
freshly on her way through the firth, which divides the shores
of Cumberland from those of Galloway; but not till the vessel
diminished to the size of a child's frigate did the doubtful,
and dejected, and dismissed followers of the Queen cease to
linger on the sands; and long, long could they discern the
kerchief of Mary, as she waved the oft-repeated signal of
adieu to her faithful adherents and to the shores of Scotland.
If good tidings of a private nature could have consoled Ro-
land for parting with his mistress, and for the distresses of
his sovereign, he received such comfort some days subsequent
to the Queen's leaving Dundrennan. A breathless post-no
other than Adam Woodcock-brought despatches from Sir
Halbert Glendinning to the abbot, whom he found with Ro-
land, still residing at Dundrennan, and in vain torturing Boni-
face with fresh interrogations. The packet bore an earnest
31
482
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
invitation to his brother to make Avenel Castle for a time his
residence. "The clemency of the Regent," said the writer,
"has extended pardon both to Roland and to you, upon con-
dition of your remaining a time under my wardship. And I
have that to communicate respecting the parentage of Roland
which not only you will willingly listen to, but which will be
also found to afford me, as the husband of his nearest relative,
some interest in the future course of his life."
The abbot read this letter, and paused, as if considering
what were best for him to do. Meanwhile, Woodcock took
Roland aside, and addressed him as follows: "Now look,
Master Roland, that you do not let any Papistrie nonsense
lure either the priest or you from the right quarry. See you,
you ever bore yourself as a bit of a gentleman. Read that,
and thank God that threw old Abbot Boniface in our way, as
two of the Seyton's men were conveying him towards Dun-
drennan here. We searched him for intelligence concerning
that fair exploit of yours at Lochleven, that has cost many a
man his life, and me a set of sore bones, and we found what
is better for your purpose than ours.”
The paper which he gave was, indeed, an attestation by
Father Philip, subscribing himself unworthy sacristan and
brother of the house of St. Mary's, stating: "That under a vow
of secrecy he had united, in the holy sacrament of marriage,
Julian Avenel and Catherine Græme; but that Julian having
repented of his union, he, Father Philip, had been sinfully
prevailed on by him to conceal and disguise the same, accord-
ing to a complot devised betwixt him and the said Julian
Avenel, whereby the poor damsel was induced to believe that
the ceremony had been performed by one not in holy orders,
and having no authority to that effect; which sinful conceal-
ment the undersigned conceived to be the cause why he was
abandoned to the misguiding of a water fiend, whereby he
had been under a spell, which obliged him to answer every
question, even touching the most solemn matters, with idle
snatches of old songs, besides being sorely afflicted with rheu-
matic pains ever after. Wherefore he had deposited this
testificate and confession, with the day and date of the said
THE ABBOT.
483
marriage, with his lawful superior, Boniface, abbot of St.
Mary's, sub sigillo confessionis.'
""
It appeared by a letter from Julian, folded carefully up
with the certificate, that the Abbot Boniface had, in effect,
bestirred himself in the affair, and obtained from the baron a
promise to avow his marriage; but the death of both Julian
and his injured bride, together with the abbot's resignation,
his ignorance of the fate of their unhappy offspring, and, above
all, the good father's listless and inactive disposition, had
suffered the matter to become totally forgotten, until it was
recalled by some accidental conversation with the Abbot Am-
brosius concerning the fortunes of the Avenel family. At the
request of his successor, the quondam abbot made search for
it; but, as he would receive no assistance in looking among
the few records of spiritual experiences and important confes-
sions which he had conscientiously treasured, it might have
remained for ever hidden amongst them but for the more ac-
tive researches of Sir Halbert Glendinning.
"So that you are like to be heir of Avenel at last, Master
Roland, after my lord and lady have gone to their place," said
Adam; "and as I have but one boon to ask, I trust you will
not nick me with nay.
""
66
'Not if it be in my power to say 'yes,' my trusty friend."
"Why, then, I must needs, if I live to see that day, keep
on feeding the eyases with unwashed flesh," said Woodcock,
sturdily, yet as if doubting the reception that his request
might meet with.
66 Thou shalt feed them with what you list for me," said
Roland, laughing; "I am not many months older than when
I left the castle, but I trust I have gathered wit enough to
cross no man of skill in his own vocation.'
رو
29
“Then I would not change places with the King's falconer,'
said Adam Woodcock, "nor with the Queen's neither; but
they say she will be mewed up, and never need one. I see it
grieves you to think of it, and I could grieve for company;
but what help for it? Fortune will fly her own flight, let a
man halloo himself hoarse."
""
The abbot and Roland journeyed to Avenel, where the for-
484
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
mer was tenderly received by his brother, while the lady wept
for joy to find that in her favourite orphan she had protected
the sole surviving branch of her own family. Sir Halbert
Glendinning and his household were not a little surprised at
the change which a brief acquaintance with the world had
produced in their former inmate, and rejoiced to find in the
pettish, spoiled, and presuming page a modest and unassum-
ing young man, too much acquainted with his own expecta-
tions and character to be hot or petulant in demanding the
consideration which was readily and voluntarily yielded to
him. The old major-domo Wingate was the first to sing his
praises, to which Mrs. Lilias bore a loud echo, always hóping
that God would teach him the true Gospel.
To the true Gospel the heart of Roland had secretly long
inclined, and the departure of the good abbot for France,
with the purpose of entering into some house of his order
in that kingdom, removed his chief objection to renouncing
the Catholic faith. Another might have existed in the duty
which he owed to Magdalen Græme, both by birth and from
gratitude. But he learned, ere he had been long a resident in
Avenel, that his grandmother had died at Cologne, in the per-
formance of a penance too severe for her age, which she had
taken upon herself in behalf of the Queen and Church of Scot-
land, so soon as she heard of the defeat at Langside. The
zeal of the Abbot Ambrosius was more regulated; but he re-
tired into the Scottish convent of
and so lived there that
the fraternity were inclined to claim for him the honours of
canonisation. But he guessed their purpose, and prayed them
on his death-bed to do no honours to the body of one as sinful
as themselves; but to send his body and his heart to be buried
in Avenel burial-aisle, in the Monastery of St. Mary's, that
the last abbot of that celebrated house of devotion might sleep
among its ruins.'
"
O
Long before that period arrived, Roland Avenel was wedded
to Catherine Seyton, who, after two years' residence with her
unhappy mistress, was dismissed, upon her being subjected to
closer restraint than had been at first exercised. She returned
1 See Burial of the Abbot's Heart in the Avenel Aisle. Note 28.
THE ABBOT.
485
to her father's house, and as Roland was acknowledged for the
successor and lawful heir of the ancient house of Avenel, great-
ly increased as the estate was by the providence of Sir Halbert
Glendinning, there occurred no objections to the match on the
part of her family. Her mother was recently dead when she
first entered the convent; and her father, in the unsettled
times which followed Queen Mary's flight to England, was
not averse to an alliance with a youth who, himself loyal to
Queen Mary, still held some influence, through means of Sir
Halbert Glendinning, with the party in power.
Roland and Catherine, therefore, were united, spite of their
differing faiths; and the White Lady, whose apparition had
been infrequent when the house of Avenel seemed verging to
extinction, was seen to sport by her haunted well, with a zone
of gold around her bosom as broad as the baldrick of an earl.
NOTES TO THE ABBOT.
NOTE 1.-GLENDONWYNE OF GLENDONWYNE, p. 44.
THIS was a house of ancient descent and superior consequence, including
persons who fought at Bannockburn and Otterburn, and closely connected
by alliance and friendship with the great Earls of Douglas. The knight in
the story argues as most Scotsmen would do in his situation, for all of the
same clan are popularly considered as descended from the same stock, and
as having a right to the ancestral honour of the chief branch. This opin-
ion, though sometimes ideal, is so strong, even at this day of innovation,
that it may be observed as a national difference between my countrymen
and the English. If you ask an Englishman of good birth whether a per-
son of the same name be connected with him, he answers, if in dubio: No,
he is a mere namesake.' Ask a similar question of a Scot-I mean a
Scotsman-he replies: He is one of our clan; I dare say there is a relation-
ship, though I do not know how distant." The Englishman thinks of
discountenancing a species of rivalry in society; the Scotsman's answer is
grounded on the ancient idea of strengthening the clan.
"L
C
Note 2.—Bag FOR HAWKS' MEAT, p. 86.
This same bag, like everything belonging to falconry, was esteemed an
honourable distinction, and worn often by the nobility and gentry. One
of the Somervilles of Camnethan was called Sir John with the Red Bag,
because it was his wont to wear his hawking-pouch covered with satin of
that colour.
NOTE 3.-CELL OF ST. CUTHBERT, p. 91.
I may here observe, that this is entirely an ideal scene. St. Cuthbert, a
person of established sanctity, had, no doubt, several places of worship on
the Borders, where he flourished whilst living; but Tillmouth Chapel is
the only one which bears some resemblance to the hermitage described in
the text. It has, indeed, a well, famous for gratifying three wishes for
every worshipper who shall quaff the fountain with sufficient belief in its
efficacy. At this spot the saint is said to have landed in his stone coffin,
in which he sailed down the Tweed from Melrose, and here the stone cof-
fin long lay, in evidence of the fact. The late Sir Frances Blake Delaval
is said to have taken the exact measure of the coffin, and to have ascer-
tained, by hydrostatic principles, that it might have actually swum.
A
profane farmer in the neighbourhood announced his intention of convert-
ing this last bed of the saint into a trough for his swine; but the profana-
tion was rendered impossible, either by the saint or by some pious votary
488
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
in his behalf, for on the following morning the stone sarcophagus was
found broken in two fragments.
Tillmouth Chapel, with these points of resemblance, lies, however, in
exactly the opposite direction as regards Melrose which the supposed cell
of St. Cuthbert is said to have borne towards Kennaquhair.
NOTE 4.-GOSS-HAWK, p. 105.
The comparison is taken from some beautiful verses in an old ballad,
entitled "Fause Foodrage," published in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border. A deposed queen, to preserve her infant son from the traitors
who have slain his father, exchanges him with the female offspring of a
faithful friend, and goes on to direct the education of the children, and the
private signals by which the parents are to hear news each of her own off-
spring.
And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk
Right weel to breast a steed;
And I sall learn your turtle dow,
As weel to write and read.
And ye maun learn my gay goss-hawk
To wield both bow and brand;
And I sall learn your turtle dow
To lay gowd wi' her hand.
At kirk and market when we meet,
We'll dare make nae avowe,
But, "Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?"
Madame, how does my dow?"
NOTE 5.-NUNNERY OF ST. BRIDGET, p. 127.
This, like the cell of St. Cuthbert, is an imaginary scene; but I took one
or two ideas of the desolation of the interior from a story told me by my
father. In his youth-it may be near eighty years since, as he was born in
1729-he had occasion to visit an old lady who resided in a Border castle
of considerable renown. Only one very limited portion of the extensive
ruins sufficed for the accommodation of the inmates, and my father amused
himself by wandering through the part that was untenanted. In a dining.
apartment, having a roof richly adorned with arches and drops, there was
deposited a large stack of hay, to which calves were helping themselves
from opposite sides. As my father was scaling a dark, ruinous turnpike
staircase, his greyhound ran up before him, and probably was the means
of saving his life, for the animal fell through a trap-door, or aperture in
the stair, thus warning the owner of the danger of the ascent. As the dog
continued howling from a great depth, my father got the old butler, who
alone knew most of the localities about the castle, to unlock a sort of
stable, in which Killbuck was found safe and sound, the place being filled
with the same commodity which littered the stalls of Augeas, and which
had rendered the dog's fall an easy one.
NOTE 6.-NUN OF KENT, p. 132.
A fanatic nun, called the Holy Maid of Kent, who pretended to the gift
of prophecy and power of miracles. Having denounced the doom of
speedy death against Henry VIII. for his marriage with Anne Boleyn, the
NOTES.
489
prophetess was attainted in Parliament, and executed, with her accom-
plices. Her imposture was for a time so successful that even Sir Thomas
More was disposed to be a believer.
NOTE 7.-HUNTING MASS, p. 141.
In Catholic countries, in order to reconcile the pleasures of the great
with the observances of religion, it was common, when a party was bent
for the chase, to celebrate mass, abridged and maimed of its rites, called a
hunting mass, the brevity of which was designed to correspond with the
impatience of the audience.
NOTE 8.-ABBOT OF UNREASON, p. 143.
We learn, from no less authority than that of Napoleon Bonaparte, that
there is but a single step between the sublime and ridiculous; and it is a
transition from one extreme to another so very easy that the vulgar of
every degree are peculiarly captivated with it. Thus the inclination to
laugh becomes uncontrollable when the solemnity and gravity of time,
place, and circumstances render it peculiarly improper. Some species of
general license, like that which inspired the ancient Saturnalia, or the
modern Carnival, has been commonly indulged to the people at all times,
and in almost all countries. But it was, I think, peculiar to the Roman
Catholic Church that, while they studied how to render their church rites
imposing and magnificent, by all that pomp, music, architecture, and ex-
ternal display could add to them, they nevertheless connived, upon special
occasions, at the frolics of the rude vulgar, who, in almost all Catholic
countries, enjoyed, or at least assumed, the privilege of making some lord
of the revels, who, under the name of the Abbot of Unreason, the Boy
Bishop, or the President of Fools, occupied the churches, profaned the
holy places by a mock imitation of the sacred rites, and sung indecent
parodies on hymns of the church. The indifference of the clergy, even
when their power was greatest, to the indecent exhibitions, which they
always tolerated, and sometimes encouraged, forms a strong contrast to
the sensitiveness with which they regarded any serious attempt, by preach-
ing or writing, to impeach any of the doctrines of the church. It could
only be compared to the singular apathy with which they endured, and
often admired, the gross novels which Chaucer, Dunbar, Boccaccio, Ban-
dello, and others composed upon the bad morals of the clergy. It seems
as if the churchmen in both instances had endeavoured to compromise
with the laity, and allowed them occasionally to gratify their coarse
humour by indecent satire, provided they would abstain from any grave
question concerning the foundation of the doctrines on which was erected
such an immense fabric of ecclesiastical power.
But the sports thus licensed assumed a very different appearance so soon
as the Protestant doctrines began to prevail; and the license which their
forefathers had exercised in mere gaiety of heart, and without the least
intention of dishonouring religion by their frolics, was now persevered in
by the common people as a mode of testifying their utter disregard for the
Roman priesthood and its ceremonies.
I may observe, for example, the case of an apparitor sent to Borthwick
from the Primate of St. Andrews, to cite the lord of that castle, who was
opposed by an Abbot of Unreason, at whose command the officer of the
490
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
spiritual court was appointed to be ducked in a mill-dam, and obliged to
eat up his parchment citation.
The reader may be amused with the following whimsical details of this
incident, which took place in the castle of Borthwick, in the year of 1547.
It appears that, in consequence of a process betwixt Master George Hay
de Minzeane and the Lord Borthwick, letters of excommunication had
passed against the latter, on account of the contumacy of certain witnesses.
William Langlands, an apparitor or macer (bacularius) of the see of St.
Andrews, presented these letters to the curate of the church of Borthwick,
requiring him to publish the same at the service of high mass. It seems
that the inhabitants of the castle were at this time engaged in the favour-
ite sport of enacting the Abbot of Unreason, a species of high jinks, in
which a mimic prelate was elected, who, like the Lord of Misrule in Eng-
land, turned all sort of lawful authority, and particularly the church
ritual, into ridicule. This frolicsome person, with his retinue, notwith-
standing of the apparitor's character, entered the church, seized upon the
Primate's officer without hesitation, and, dragging him to the mill-dam
on the south side of the castle, compelled him to leap into the water.
Not contented with this partial immersion, the Abbot of Unreason pro-
nounced that Mr. William Langlands was not yet sufficiently bathed, and
therefore caused his assistants to lay him on his back in the stream, and
duck him in the most satisfactory and perfect manner. The unfortunate
apparitor was then conducted back to the church, where, for his refresh-
ment after his bath, the letters of excommunication were torn to pieces,
and steeped in a bowl of wine; the mock abbot being probably of opinion
that a tough parchment was but dry eating, Langlands was compelled to
eat the letters and swallow the wine, and dismissed by the Abbot of Un-
reason, with the comfortable assurance that, if any more such letters
should arrive during the continuance of his office, "they should a' gang
the same gate," i.e. go the same road.
A similar scene occurs betwixt a sumner of the Bishop of Rochester and
Harpool, the servant of Lord Cobham, in the the old play of Sir John Old-
castle, when the former compels the church-officer to eat his citation. The
dialogue contains most of the jests which may be supposed appropriate to
such an extraordinary occasion.
Harpool. Marry, sir, is this process parchment?
Sumner. Yes, marry is it.
Harpool. And this seal wax?
Sumner. It is so.
Harpool. If this be parchment, and this be wax, eat you this parchment
and wax, or I will make parchment of your skin, and beat your brains
into wax. Sirrah Sumner, dispatch-devour, sirrah, devour.
Sumner. I am my Lord of Rochester's sumner; I came to do my office,
and thou shalt answer it.
Harpool. Sirrah, no railing, but betake thyself to thy teeth. Thou shalt
eat no worse than thou bringest with thee. Thou bringest it for my lord;
and wilt thou bring my lord worse than thou wilt eat thyself?
Sumner. Sir, I brought it not my lord to eat.
Harpool. Oh, do you Sir me now? All's one for that; I'll make you
eat it for bringing it.
Sumner. I cannot eat it.
Harpool. Can you not? 'Sblood, I'll beat you till you have a stomach!
[Beats him.]
NOTES.
491
Sumner. Oh, hold, hold, good Mr. Serving-man; I will eat it.
Harpool. Be champing, be chewing, sir, or I will chew you, you rogue.
Tough wax is the purest of the honey.
Sumner. The purest of the honey! O Lord, sir! oh! oh!
Harpool. Feed, feed; 'tis wholesome, rogue-wholesome. Cannot you,
like an honest sumner, walk with the devil your brother, to fetch in your
bailiff's rents, but you must come to a nobleman's house with process? If
the seal were as broad as the lead which covers Rochester Church, thou
shouldst eat it.
Butler. Here-here.
Harpool. Give him beer.
Sumner. Oh, I am almost choked-I am almost choked!
Harpool. Who's within there? will you shame my lord? is there no
beer in the house? Butler, I say.
Enter BUTLER.
Tough old sheep-skin's but dry meat.
First Part of Sir John Oldcastle, Act ii. Scene 1.
NOTE 9.-THE HOBBY-HORSE, p. 145.
This exhibition, the play-mare of Scotland, stood high among holyday
gambols. It must be carefully separated from the wooden chargers which
furnish out our nurseries. It gives rise to Hamlet's ejaculation:
But oh, but oh, the hobby-horse is forgot!
There is a very comic scene in Beaumont and Fletcher's play of Women
Pleased, where Hope-on-high Bomby, a Puritan cobbler, refuses to dance
with the hobby-horse. There was much difficulty and great variety in
the motions which the hobby-horse was expected to exhibit.
The learned Mr. Douce, who has contributed so much to the illustration
of our theatrical antiquities, has given us a full account of this pageant,
and the burlesque horsemanship which it practised.
"
، ،
The hobby-horse," says Mr. Douce, was represented by a man
equipped with as much pasteboard as was sufficient to form the head and
hinder parts of a horse, the quadrupedal defects being concealed by a long
mantle or foot-cloth that nearly touched the ground. The performer, on
this occasion, exerted all his skill in burlesque horsemanship. In Samp-
son's play of the Vow-breaker, 1636, a miller personates the hobby-horse,
and being angry that the mayor of the city is put in competition with him,
exclaims: 'Let the major [mayor] play the hobby-horse among his breth-
ren, an he will; I hope our town-lads cannot want a hobby-horse. Have
I practised my reins, my careers, my pranckers, my ambles, my false trots,
my smooth ambles, and Canterbury paces, and shall master major put me
besides the hobby-horse? Have I borrowed the forehorse bells, his plumes,
his braveries; nay, had his mane new shorn and frizzled, and shall the ma-
jor put me besides the hobby-horse?'"-Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 468.
NOTE 10.-REPRESENTATION OF ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN, p. 145.
The representation of Robin Hood was the darling May-game both in
England and Scotland, and doubtless the favourite personification was
often revived, when the Abbot of Unreason, or other pretences of frolic,
gave an unusual degree of license.
The Protestant clergy, who had formerly reaped advantage from the
opportunities which these sports afforded them of directing their own sat-
492
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
ire and the ridicule of the lower orders against the Catholic Church, began
to find that, when these purposes were served, their favourite pastimes de-
prived them of the wish to attend divine worship, and disturbed the frame
of mind in which it can be attended to advantage. The celebrated Bishop
Latimer gives a very naive account of the manner in which, bishop as he
was, he found himself compelled to give place to Robin Hood and his fol-
lowers.
"I came once myselfe to a place riding on a journey homeward from
London, and I sent word over night into the towne that I would preach
there in the morning, because it was holiday, and methought it was a holi-
dayes worke. The church stood in my way, and I tooke my horse and my
company, and went thither (I thought I should have found a great com-
pany in the church), and when I came there the church doore was fast
locked. I tarryed there halfe an houre and more. At last the key was
found, and one of the parish comes to me, and says: 'Sir, this is a busie
day with us, we cannot heare you; it is Robin Hood's day. The parish
are gone abroad to gather for Robin Hood. I pray you let them not.' I
was faine there to give place to Robin Hood. I thought my rochet should
have been regarded, though I were not; but it would not serve, it was
faine to give place to Robin Hood's men. It is no laughing matter, my
friends it is weeping matter, a heavy matter-a heavy matter. Under
the pretence for gathering for Robin Hood, a traytour and a theafe, to put
out a preacher, to have his office lesse esteemed, to preferre Robin Hood
before the ministration of God's Word; and all this hath come of un-
preaching prelates. This realme hath been ill provided for, that it hath
had such corrupt judgements in it, to preferre Robin Hood to God's Word."
-Bishop Latimer's Sixth Sermon before King Edward VI.
While the English Protestants thus preferred the outlaw's pageant to the
preaching of their excellent bishop, the Scottish Calvinistic clergy, with the
celebrated John Knox at their head, and backed by the authority of the
magistrates of Edinburgh, who had of late been chosen exclusively from
this party, found it impossible to control the rage of the populace, when
they attempted to deprive them of the privilege of presenting their pageant
of Robin Hood.
(1561). Vpon the xxi day of Julij, Archibalde Dowglas of Kilspindie,
Provest of Edr., David Symmer and Adame Fullartoun, baillies of the
samyne, causit ane cordinare servant, callit James Gillioun [or Killone],
takin of befoir, for playing in Ed. with Robene Hude, to wnderly the law,
and put him to the knawlege of ane assyize, qlk yaij haid electit of yair
favoraris, quha with schort deliberatioun condemnit him to be hangit for
ye said cryme. And the deaconis of ye craftisman, fearing vproare, maid
great solistatiouns at ye handis of ye said provest and baillies, and als re-
quirit John Knox, minister, for eschewing of tumult, to superceid ye exe-
cutioun of him, vnto ye tyme yai suld adverteis my Lord Duke yairof. And
yan, if it wes his mynd and will yat he should be disponit vpoun, ye said
deaconis and craftisman sould convey him yaire; quha answerit, yat yai
culd na way stope ye executioun of justice. Quhan ye time of ye said pouer
mans hanging approchit, and yat ye hangman wes cum to ye jibbat with
ye ledder, vpoune ye qlk ye said cordinare should have bene hangit, ane
certaine and remanent craftischilder, quha wes put to ye horne with ye
said Gillione, ffor ye said Robene Hiude's playes, and vyris yair assistaris
1
66
NOTES.
498
and favoraris, past to wappinis, and yai brak down ye said jibbat, and yan
chacit ye said provest, baillies, and Alexr. Guthrie, in ye said Alexander's
writing-buith, and held yame yairin; and yairefter past to ye tolbuyt, and
becaus the samyne was steikit, and onnawayes culd get the keyes thair ›f,
thai brake the said tolbuith dore with foure hamberis per force (the sid
provest and baillies luikand thairon), and not onlie put thar the said Gil-
lone to fredome and libertie, and brocht him furth of the said tolbuit, bot
alsua the remanent presonaris being thairintill. And this done, the said
craftismen's servands, with the said condempnit cordonar, past doun to
the Nethirbow, to have past furth thairat; bot becaus the samyne on thair
cuming thairto wes closit, thai past vp agane the Hie Streit of the said
bourghe to the Castell hill, and in this menetyme the saidis provest and
baillie and thair assistaris being in the writting-buith of the said Alexr.
Guthrie, past and enterit in the said tolbuyt, and in the said servandis pas-
sage vp the Hie Streit, then schote furth thairof at thame ane dog, and
hurt ane servand of the said childer. This being done, thair wes nathing
vthir but the one partie schuteand out and castand stanis furth of the
said tolbuyt, and the vther pairtie schuteand hagbuttis in the same agane.
And sua the craftismen's servandis, abone written, held and inclosit the
said provest and baillies continewallie in the said tolbuyth, frae three
houris efternone quhill aught houris at even, and na man of the said town
prensit [sterit] to relieve thair said provest and baillies. And than thai
send to the maisters of the Castell [craftismen], to caus tham if thai mycht
stay the said servandis, quha maid ane maner to doe the same, bot thai
could not bring the same to ane finall end, ffor the said servand wold on
nowayes stay fra, quhill thai had revengit the hurting of ane of them; and
thairefter the constable of the Castell come down thairfra, and he with the
said maisters treatit betwix the said pties in this maner :-That the said
provest and baillies sall reniit [discharge] to the said craftischilder all
actioun, cryme, and offens that thai had committit aganes thame in any
tyme bygane; and band oblast thame nevir to pussew them thairfor; and
als commandit thair maisters to resaue them agane in thair services, as
thai did befoir. And this being proclamit at the mercat crow, thai scalit,
and the said provest and baillies come furth of the same tolbuyth," etc.
etc. etc.
John Knox, who writes at large upon this tumult, informs us it was in-
flamed by the deacons of crafts, who, resenting the superiority assumed
over them by the magistrates, would yield no assistance to put down the
tumult. "They will be magistrates alone," said the recusant deacons,
"e'en let them rule the populace alone"; and accordingly they passed
quietly to take their "four-hours penny," and left the magistrates to help
themselves as they could. Many persons were excommunicated for this
outrage, and not admitted to church ordinances till they had made satis
faction.
NOTE 11.-"THE PAIP, THAT PAGAN," p. 157.
These rude rhymes are taken, with trifling alterations, from a ballad called
Trim-go-trix." It occurs in a singular collection, entitled Ane Compendious
Booke of Godly and Spirituall Songs, Collectit out of Sundrie Paries of the Scrip-
ture, with Sundrie of other Ballates Changed out of Prophaine Sanges, for Avoyd-
ing of Sinne and Harlotrie, with Augmentation of Sundrie Gude and Godly
""
494
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Ballates. Edinburgh, printed by Andro Hart. This curious collection has
been reprinted in Mr. John Graham Dalyell's Scottish Poems of the 16th
Century. Edin. 1801.
NOTE 12.-INABILITY OF EVIL SPIRITS TO ENTER A HOUSE
UNINVITED, p. 169.
There is a popular belief respecting evil spirits, that they cannot enter an
inhabited house unless invited, nay, dragged over the threshold. There
is an instance of the same superstition in the Tales of the Genii, where
an enchanter is supposed to have intruded himself into the divan of the
sultan.
(
"'Thus,' said the illustrious Misnar, 'let the enemies of Mahomet be
dismayed! but inform me, O ye sages! under the semblance of which of
your brethren did that foul enchanter gain admittance here?' May the
lord of my heart,' answered Bahilu, the hermit of the faithful from Queda,
triumph over all his foes! As I travelled on the mountains from Queda,
and saw neither the footsteps of beasts, nor the flights of birds, behold, Í
chanced to pass through a cavern, in whose hollow sides I found this ac-
cursed sage, to whom I unfolded the invitation of the Sultan of India, and
we, joining, journeyed towards the divan; but ere we entered, he said unto
me: 'Put thy hand forth, and pull me towards thee into the divan, calling
on the name of Mahomet, for the evil spirits are on me, and vex me.'”
I have understood that many parts of these fine tales, and in particular
that of the Sultan Misnar, were taken from genuine Oriental sources by
the editor, Mr. James Ridley.
But the most picturesque use of this popular belief occurs in Coleridge's
beautiful and tantalising fragment of Christabel. Has not our own imag-
inative poet cause to fear that future ages will desire to summon him from
his place of rest, as Milton longed
To call up him, who left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold?
The verses I refer to are when Christabel conducts into her father's castle a
mysterious and malevolent being, under the guise of a distressed female
stranger.
They cross'd the moat, and Christabel
Took the key that fitted well;
A little door she open'd straight,
All in the middle of the gate;
The gate that was iron'd within and without,
Where an army in battle array had march'd out.
The lady sank, belike thro' pain,
And Christabel with might and main
Lifted her up, a weary weight,
Over the threshold of the gate:
Then the lady rose again,
And moved as she were not in pain.
So free from danger, free from fear,
They cross'd the court-right glad they were,
And Christabel devoutly cried
To the lady by her side:
NOTES.
495
"Praise we the Virgin, all divine,
Who hath rescued thee from thy distress.
Alas, alas!" said Geraldine,
"
"I cannot speak for weariness."
So free from danger, free from fear,
They cross'd the court:-right glad they were.
•
NOTE 13.-SEYTON, OR SETON, P. 194.
George, fifth Lord Seyton, was immovably faithful to Queen Mary dur-
ing all the mutabilities of her fortune. He was grand master of the house-
hold, in which capacity he had a picture painted of himself with his official
baton, and the following motto:
In adversitate patiens;
In prosperitate benevolus.
Hazard, yet forward.
On various parts of his castle he inscribed, as expressing his religious
and political creed, the legend:
UN DIEU, UN FOY, UN ROY, UN LOY.
He declined to be promoted to an earldom, which Queen Mary offered
him at the same time when she advanced her natural brother to be Earl of
Mar, and afterwards of Murray.
On his refusing this honour, Mary wrote, or caused to be written, the
following lines in Latin and French:
Sunt comites, ducesque alii, sunt denique reges;
Sethoni dominum sit satis esse mihi.
Il y a des comptes, des roys, des ducs; ainsi
C'est assez pour moy d'estre Seigneur de Seton.
Which may be thus rendered:
Earl, duke, or king, be thou that list to be;
Seton, thy lordship is enough for me.
This distich reminds us of the "pride which aped humility" in the
motto of the house of Couci :
Je suis ni roy, ni prince aussi ;
Je suis le Seigneur de Coucy.
After the battle of Langside, Lord Seton was obliged to retire abroad for
safety, and was an exile for two years, during which he was reduced to the
necessity of driving a waggon in Flanders for his subsistence. He rose to
favour in James VI.'s reign, and resuming his paternal property, had him-
self painted in his waggoner's dress and in the act of driving a wain with
four horses, on the north end of a stately gallery at Seton Castle. He
appears to have been fond of the arts; for there exists a beautiful family-
piece of him in the centre of his family. Mr. Pinkerton, in his Scottish
Iconographia [1797], published an engraving of this curious portrait. The
original is the property of Lord Somerville, nearly connected with the
Seton family, and is at present at his lordship's fishing-villa of the Pavilion,
near Melrose.
496
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
NOTE 14.-FANFARONA, p. 195.
A name given to the gold chains worn by the military men of the period.
It is of Spanish origin; for the fashion of wearing these costly ornaments
was much followed amongst the conquerors of the New World.
NOTE 15.-MAIDEN OF MORTON, p. 201.
A species of guillotine which the Regent Morton brought down from
Halifax, certainly at a period considerably later than intimated in the tale.
He was himself the first that suffered by the engine.-
This instrument, which is preserved in the Antiquarian Museum of
Edinburgh, was brought to Scotland several years earlier than popular
tradition assigns, and is said to have been used for the execution of crimi-
nals about twenty years before the Earl of Morton was beheaded, in 1582
(Laing).
Tako da j
NOTE 16.-THE RESIGNATION OF QUEEN MARY, p. 277.
crown.
The details of this remarkable event are, as given in chapter xxii., im-
aginary; but the outline of the events is historical. Sir Robert Lindesay
[Melville], brother to the author of the Memoirs, was at first entrusted with
the delicate commission of persuading the imprisoned Queen tɔ resign her
As he flatly refused to interfere, they determined to send the Lord
Lindesay, one of the rudest and most violent of their own faction, with
instructions, first to use fair persuasions, and if these did not succeed, to
enter into harder terms. Knox associates Lord Ruthven with Lindesay
in this alarming commission. He was the son of that Lord Ruthven who
was prime agent in the murder of Rizzio; and little mercy was to be ex-
pected from his conjunction with Lindesay.
The employment of such rude tools argued a resolution on the part of
those who had the Queen's person in their power to proceed to the utmost
extremities, should they find Mary obstinate. To avoid this pressing dan-
ger, Sir Robert Melville was despatched by them to Lochleven, carrying
with him, concealed in the scabbard of his sword, letters to the Queen from
the Earl of Athole, Maitland of Lethington, and even from Throgmorton,
the English ambassador, who was then favourable to the unfortunate
Mary, conjuring her to yield to the necessity of the times, and to subscribe
such deeds as Lindesay should lay before her, without being startled by
their tenor; and assuring her that her doing so, in the state of captivity
under which she was placed, would neither, in law, honour, or conscience,
be binding upon her when she should obtain her liberty. Submitting, by
the advice of one part of her subjects, to the menace of the others, and
learning that Lindesay was arrived in a boasting, that is, threatening,
humour, the Queen, "with some reluctancy, and with tears," saith Knox,
subscribed one deed resigning her crown to her infant son, and another
establishing the Earl of Murray regent. It seems agreed by historians that
Lindesay behaved with great brutality on the occasion. The deeds were
signed 24th July 1567.
NOTE 17.-GANELON, p. 302.
Gan, Gano, or Ganelon of Mayence, is, in the romances on the subject of
Charlemagne and his Paladins, always represented as the traitor by whom
the Christian champions are betrayed.
NOTES.
497
NOTE 18.-SCOTTISH FAIRS, p. 316.
At Scottish fairs, the bailie, or magistrate, deputed by the lord in whose
name the meeting is held, attends the fair with his guard, decides trifling
disputes, and punishes on the spot any petty delinquencies. His attend-
ants are usually armed with halberds, and, sometimes at least, escorted by
music. Thus, in the Life and Death of Habbie Simpson, we are told of that
famous minstrel-
At fairs he play'd before the spear-men,
And gaily graithed in their gear-men ;-
Steel bonnets, jacks, and swords shone clear then,
Like ony bead.
Now wha shall play before sic weir-men,
Since Habbie's dead!
NOTE 19.-KIERY CRAIGS, p. 319.
"
Lord Chief-Commissioner Adam, in the year 1817, formed what was
called a Blair-Adam Club, consisting of Sir Walter Scott and a few other
friends, who assembled once a-year at Blair-Adam House, near the shores
of Lochleven. In his Reminiscences, the Lord Chief-Commissioner, when
referring to the anonymous publication of the Waverley novels, records the
following anecdote : What confirmed, and was certainly meant to dis-
close to me the author, was the mention of the Kiery Craigs, a picturesque
piece of scenery in the grounds of Blair-Adam, as being in the vicinity of
Kelty Bridge, the howff of Auchtermuchty, the Kinross carrier. It was
only an intimate friend of the family who could know anything of
the Kiery Craigs or its name; and both the scenery and the name had
attractions for Sir Walter.
•
•
..
'At our first meeting after the publication of the Abbot, when the party
was assembled on the top of the rock, the Chief-Baron Shepherd, looking
Sir Walter full in the face, and stamping his staff on the ground, said :
'Now, Sir Walter, I think we be upon the top of the Kiery Craigs.' Sir
Walter preserved profound silence; but there was a conscious looking
down, and a considerable elongation of his upper lip."-Blair-Adam Tracts,
1834, p. xxxv., and Lockhart's Life of Scott, vol. vi. p. 264 (Laing).
NOTE 20.-MOTHER NICNEVEN, p. 324.
This was the name given to the grand Mother Witch, the very Hecate of
Scottish popular superstition. Her name was bestowed, in one or two
instances, upon sorceresses, who were held to resemble her by their supe-
rior skill in "Hell's black grammar."
NOTE 21.-DARK GREY MAN, p. 348.
By an ancient, though improbable, tradition the Douglasses are said to
have derived their name from a champion who had greatly distinguished
himself in an action. When the king demanded by whom the battle had
been won, the attendants are said to have answered, "Sholto Douglas,
sir"; which is said to mean, "Yonder dark grey man.". But the name is
undoubtedly territorial, and taken from Douglas river and dale.
32
498
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
NOTE 22.-SUPPOSED CONSPIRACY AGAINST THE LIFE OF MARY, p. 408.
A romancer, to use a Scottish phrase, wants but a hair to make a tether
of. The whole detail of the steward's supposed conspiracy against the life
of Mary is grounded upon an expression in one of her letters which affirms
that Jasper Dryfesdale [James Drysdale], one of the Laird of Lochleven's
servants, had threatened to murder William Douglas (for his share in the
Queen's escape), and averred that he would plant a dagger in Mary's own
heart.-Chalmers's Life of Queen Mary [1822], vol. i. p. 278.
NOTE 23.-MUFFLED MAN, p. 416.
Generally a disguised man; originally one who wears his cloak or man-
tle muffled round the lower part of the face to conceal his countenance.
I have on an ancient piece of iron the representation of a robber thus ac-
coutred, endeavouring to make his way into a house, and opposed by a
mastiff, to whom he in vain offers food. The motto is Spernit dona fides.
It is part of a fire-grate said to have belonged to Archbishop Sharp.
NOTE 24.-" THE HOWLET," p. 434.
Sir John Holland's poem of The Howlet is known to collectors by the
beautiful edition presented to the Bannatyne Club by Mr. David Laing.—
The preface contains remarks by Sir Walter Scott, who was president of
the club. The poem was composed about the middle of the 15th century,
and has generally been supposed to be a satire on James II. of Scotland
(Laing).
NOTE 25.-DEMEANOUR OF QUEEN MARY, p. 438.
In the dangerous expedition to Aberdeenshire, Randolph, the English
ambassador, gives Cecil the following account of Queen Mary's demeanour:
"In all these garboiles, I assure you, I never saw her [the Queen]
merrier, never dismayed; nor never thought that so much to be in her that
I find. She repented nothing but, when the lords and others, at Inver-
ness, came in the morning from the watch, that she was not a man to
know what life it was to lie all night in the fields, or to walk on the cause-
way with a jack and a knapschalle, a Glasgow buckler, and a broad-
sword."-RANDOLPH to CECIL, September 18, 1562.
The writer of the above letter seems to have felt the same impression
which Catherine Seyton, in the text, considered as proper to the Queen's
presence among her armed subjects.
"L
Though we neither thought nor looked for other than on that day to
have fought or never-what desperate blows would not have been given,
when every man should have fought in the sight of so noble a queen, and
so many fair ladies, our enemies to have taken them from us, and we to
save our honours, not to be reft of them, your honour can easily judge!”—
The same to the same [condensed], September 23, 1562.
NOTE 26.-ESCAPE OF QUEEN MARY FROM LOCHLEVEN, p. 442.
It is well known that the escape of Queen Mary from Lochleven was
effected by George Douglas, the youngest brother of Sir William Douglas,
the lord of the castle; but the minute circumstances of the event have
NOTES.
499
been a good deal confused, owing to two agents having been concerned in
it who bore the same name. It has been always supposed that George
Douglas was induced to abet Mary's escape by the ambitious hope that, by
such service, he might merit her hand. But his purpose was discovered
by his brother Sir William, and he was expelled from the castle. He con-
tinued, notwithstanding, to hover in the neighbourhood, and maintained
a correspondence with the royal prisoner and others in the fortress.
If we believe the English ambassador Drury, the Queen was grateful to
George Douglas, and even proposed a marriage with him-a scheme
which could hardly be serious, since she was still the wife of Bothwell,
but which, if suggested at all, might be with a purpose of gratifying the
Regent Murray's ambition, and propitiating his favour; since he was, it
must be remembered, the brother uterine of George Douglas, for whom
such high honour was said to be designed.
The proposal, if seriously made, was treated as inadmissible, and Mary
again resumed her purpose of escape. Her failure in her first attempt has
some picturesque particulars, which might have been advantageously in-
troduced in fictitious narrative. Drury sends Cecil the following account
of the matter:
"But after, upon the 25th of the last (April 1567), she enterprised an
escape, and was the rather nearer effect, through her accustomed long
lying in bed all the morning. The manner of it was thus: there cometh
in to her the laundress early as other times before she was wonted, and
the Queen according to such a secret practice putteth on her the weed of
the laundress, and so with the fardel of cloathes and her muffler upon her
face, passeth out and entreth the boat to pass the loch; which, after some
space, one of them that rowed said merrily, 'Let us see what manner of
dame this is,' and therewith offered to pull down her muffler, which, to
defend, she put up her hands, which they spied to be very fair and white;
wherewith they entered into suspicion whom she was, beginning to won-
der at her enterprise. Whereat she was little dismayed, but charged them,
upon danger of their lives, to row her over to the shore, which they noth-
ing regarded, but eftsoons rowed her back again, promising her that it
should be secreted, and especially from the lord of the house, under whose
guard she lyeth. It seemeth she knew her refuge, and where to have
found it if she had once landed; for there did, and yet do linger, at a little
village called Kinross, hard at the loch side, the same George Douglas,
one Sempil, and one Beton, the which two were sometime her trusty ser-
vants, and, as yet appeareth, they mind her no less affection."-Bishop
Keith's History of the Affairs of Church and State in Scotland, p. 470.
Notwithstanding this disappointment, little spoke of by historians, Mary
renewed her attempts to escape. There was in the Castle of Lochleven
a lad named William Douglas, some relation probably of the baron, and
about eighteen years old. This youth proved as accessible to Queen Mary's
prayers and promises as was the brother of his patron, George Douglas,
from whom this William must be carefully kept distinct. It was young
William who played the part commonly assigned to his superior, George,-
stealing the keys of the castle from the table on which they lay, while his
lord was at supper. He let the Queen and a waiting-woman out of the
apartment where they were secured, and out of the tower itself, embarked
with them in a small skiff, and rowed them to the shore. To prevent in-
stant pursuit, he, for precaution's sake, locked the iron grated door of
500
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
the tower, and threw the keys into the lake. They found George Doug-
las and the Queen's servant, Beaton [Betoun], waiting for them, and Lord
Seyton and James Hamilton of Orbieston in attendance, at the head of a
party of faithful followers, with whom they fled to Niddrie Castle, and
from thence to Hamilton.
In narrating this romantic story, both history and tradition confuse the
two Douglasses together, and confer on George the successful execution of
the escape from the castle, the merit of which belongs in reality to the boy
called William, or, more frequently, the Little Douglas, either from his
youth or his slight stature. The reader will observe, that in the romance
the part of the Little Douglas has been assigned to Roland Græme. In an-
other case, it would be tedious to point out in a work of amusement such
minute points of historical fact; but the general interest taken in the fate
of Queen Mary renders everything of consequence which connects itself
with her misfortunes.
NOTE 27.-BATTLE OF LANGSIDE, p. 474.
I am informed in the most polite manner by D. MacVean, Esq., of Glas-
gow,
that I have been incorrect in my locality, in giving an account of the
battle of Langside. Crookstone Castle, he observes, lies four miles west
from the field of battle, and rather in the rear of Murray's army. The
real place from which Mary saw the rout of her last army was Cathcart
Castle, which, being a mile and a half east from Langside, was situated in
the rear of the Queen's own army. I was led astray in the present case by
the authority of my deceased friend, James Grahame, the excellent and
amiable author of the Sabbath, in his drama on the subject of Queen Mary;
and by a traditionary report of Mary having seen the battle from the Cas-
tle of Crookstone, which seemed so much to increase the interest of the
scene that I have been unwilling to make, in this particular instance, the
fiction gave way to the fact, which last is undoubtedly in favour of Mr.
MacVean's system.
It is singular how tradition, which is sometimes a sure guide to truth,
is, in other cases, prone to mislead us. In the celebrated field of battle at
Killiecrankie, the traveller is struck with one of those rugged' pillars of
rough stone, which indicate the scenes of ancient conflict. A friend of the
Author, well acquainted with the circumstances of the battle, was stand-
ing near this large stone, and looking on the scene around, when a High-
land shepherd hurried down from the hill to offer his services as cicerone,
and proceeded to inform him that Dundee was slain at that stone, which
was raised to his memory. "Fie, Donald," answered my friend, "how
can you tell such a story to a stranger? I am sure you know well enough
that Dundee was killed at a considerable distance from this place, near the
house of Fascally, and that this stone was here long before the battle, in
1688." "Oich!-oich!" said Donald, no way abashed," and your honour's
in the right, and I see you ken a' about it. And he wasna killed on the
spot neither, but lived till the next morning; but a' the Saxon gentlemen
like best to hear he was killed at the great stane." It is on the same prin-
ciple of pleasing my readers that I retain Crookstone Castle instead of
Cathcart.
If, however, the Author has taken a liberty in removing the actual field
of battle somewhat to the eastward, he has been tolerably strict in adher-
NOTES.
501
ing to the incidents of the engagement, as will appear from a comparison
of events in the novel with the following account from an old writer.
"The Regent was out on foot and all his company, except the Laird of
Grange, Alexander Hume of Manderston, and some Borderers to the num-
ber of two hundred. The Laird of Grange had already viewed the ground,
and with all imaginable diligence caused every horseman to take behind him
a footman of the Regent's, to guard behind them, and rode with speed to
the head of the Langside Hill, and set down the sett footmen with their cul-
verings at the head of a strait lane, where there were some cottage houses
and yards of great advantage. Which soldiers with their continual shot
killed divers of the vaunt-guard, led by the Hamiltouns, who, couragiously
and fiercely ascending up the hill, were already out of breath, when the
Regent's vaunt-guard joined with them. Where the worthy Lord Hume
fought on foot with his pike in his hand very manfully, assisted by the
Laird of Cesfoord, his brother-in-law, who helped him up again when he
was strucken to the ground by many stroaks upon his face, by the throw-
ing pistols at him after they had been discharged. He was also wounded
with staves, and had many stroaks of spears through his legs; for he and
Grange, at the joining, cried to let their adversaries first lay down their
spears, to bear up theirs; which spears were so thick fixed in the others'
jacks, that some of the pistols and great staves that were thrown by them
which were behind, might be seen lying upon the spears.
"
Upon the Queen's side the Earl of Arguile commanded the battle,
and the Lord of Arbroth the vaunt-guard. But the Regent committed to
the Laird of Grange the special care, as being an experimented captain, to
oversee every danger, and to ride to every wing, to encourage and make
help where greatest need was. He perceived, at the first joining, the right
wing of the Regent's vaunt-guard put back, and like to fly, whereof the
greatest part were commons of the barony of Renfrew; whereupon he rode
to them, and told them that their enemy was already turning their backs,
requesting them to stay and debate till he should bring them fresh men
forth of the battle. Whither at full speed he did ride alone, and told the
Regent that the enemy were shaken and flying away behind the little vil-
lage, and desired a few number of fresh men to go with him. Where he
found enough willing, as the Lord Lindesay, the Laird of Lochleven, Sir
James Balfour, and all the Regent's servants, who followed him with dili-
gence, and reinforced that wing which was beginning to fly; which fresh
men with their loose weapons struck the enemies in their flanks and faces,
which forced them incontinent to give place and turn back after long
fighting and pushing others to and fro with their spears. There were not
many horsemen to pursue after them, and the Regent cried to save and not
to kill, and Grange was never cruel, so that there were few slain and
taken. And the only slaughter was at the first rencounter by the shot
of the soldiers, which Grange had planted at the lane-head behind some
dikes.
It is remarkable that, while passing through the small town of Renfrew,
some partizans, adherents of the house of Lennox, attempting to arrest
Queen Mary and her attendants, were obliged to make way for her, not
without slaughter.-
The Castle of Rutherglen was demolished immediately after the battle
by the Regent's party.
502
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
↓
The suburban district of Glasgow towards the south, named Cathcart,
takes its name from the old castle, and, owing to the growth of the city in
this direction, the site of the battle of Langside is brought contiguous to
the southeast side of the Queen's Park. On the west of this park the site
of the Regent Murray's camp is commemorated by the "Camp Hill," and
at the village of Langside there is a cottage which goes by the name of
Queen Mary's Cottage." The Queen's Park is in a direct line with Glas-
gow Bridge, from which it is three miles distant in a straight line (Laing).
"
NOTE 28.-BURIAL OF THE ABBOT'S HEART IN THE AVENEL AISLE, p. 484.
This was not the explanation of the incident of searching for the heart,
mentioned in the introduction to the tale, which the Author originally in-
tended. It was designed to refer to the heart of Robert Bruce. It is gen-
erally known that that great monarch, being on his death-bed, bequeathed
to the good Lord James of Douglas the task of carrying his heart to the
Holy Land, to fulfil in a certain degree his own desire to perform a crusade.
Upon Douglas's death, fighting against the Moors in Spain, a sort of mili-
tary hors d'œuvre to which he could have pleaded no regular call of duty,
his followers brought back the Bruce's heart, and deposited it in the abbey
church of Melrose, the Kennaquhair of the tale.
This abbey had been always particularly favoured by the Bruce. We
have already seen his extreme anxiety that each of the reverend brethren
should be daily supplied with a service of boiled almonds, rice and milk,
pease, or the like, to be called the "king's mess," and that without the
ordinary service of their table being either disturbed in quantity or quality.
But this was not the only mark of the benignity of good King Robert
towards the monks of Melrose, since, by a charter of the date 29th May
1326, he conferred on the Abbot of Melrose the sum of £2000 sterling, for
rebuilding the Church of St. Mary's, ruined by the English; and there is
little or no doubt that the principal part of the remains which now dis-
play such exquisite specimens of Gothic architecture, at its very purest
period, had their origin in this munificent donation. The money was to
be paid out of crown lands, estates forfeited to the King, and other property
or demesnes of the crown.
A very curious letter, written to his son about three weeks before his
death, has been pointed out to me by my friend Mr. Thomas Thomson,
Deputy-Register for Scotland. It enlarges so much on the love of the royal
writer to the community of Melrose, that it is well worthy of being in-
serted in a work connected in some degree with Scottish history.
LITERA DOMINI REGIS ROBERTI AD FILIUM SUUM David.
Robertus dei gratia rex Scottorum, David precordialissimo filio suo, ac
ceteris successoribus suis, Salutem, et sic ejus precepta tenere, ut cum sua
benedictione possint regnare. Fili carissime, digne censeri videtur filius,
qui, paternos in bonis mores imitans, piam ejus nititur exequi voluntatem,
nec proprie sibi sumit nomen heredis, qui salubribus predecessoris affecti-
bus non adherit; cupientes igitur, ut piam affectionem et scinceram dilec-
tionem, quam erga monasterium de Melros, ubi cor nostrum ex speciali
devotione disposuimus tumulandum, et erga religiosos ibidem Deo ser-
vientes, ipsorum vita sanctissima nos ad hoc excitante, concepimus; tu
ceterique successores mei pia scinceritate prosequamini, ut, ex vestre dilec-
NOTES.
503
tionis affectu dictis religiosis nostri causa post mortem nostram ostenso,
ipsi pro nobis ad orandum fervencius et forcius animentur. Vobis precipi-
mus quantum possumus, instanter supplicamus, et ex toto corde injungi-
mus, quatinus assignacionibus quas eisdem viris religiosis et fabrica ecclesie
sue de novo fecimus ac eciam omnibus aliis donacionibus nostris, ipsos
libere gaudere permittans, easdem potius si necesse fuerit augmentantes
quam diminuentes, ipsorum peticiones auribus benevolis admittentes, ac
ipsos contra suos invasores et emulos pia defensione protegentes. Hanc
autem exhortacionem supplicacionem et preceptum tu, fili ceterique suc-
cessores nostri, prestanti animo complere curetis, si nostram benedictionem
habere velitis, una cum benedictione filii summi regis, qui filios docuit
patrum voluntates in bono perficere, asserens in mundum se venisse non
ut suam volutatem faceret sed paternam. In testimonium autem nostre
devotionis erga locum predictum sic a nobis dilectum et electum concepte,
presentem literam religiosis predictis dimittimus, nostris successoribus in
posterum ostendendam. Data apud Cardros, undecimo die Maij, anno
regni nostri vicesimo quarto."
If this charter be altogether genuine, and there is no appearance of for-
gery, it gives rise to a curious doubt in Scottish history. The letter an-
nounces that the King had already destined his heart to be deposited at
Melrose. The resolution to send it to Palestine, under the charge of Doug-
las, must have been adopted betwixt 11th May 1329, the date of the letter,
and 7th June of the same year, when the Bruce died; or else we must
suppose that the commission of Douglas extended not only to taking the
Bruce's heart to Palestine, but to bring it safe back to its final place of
deposit in the Abbey of Melrose.
It would not be worth inquiring by what caprice the Author was in-
duced to throw the incident of the Bruce's heart entirely out of the story,
save merely to say that he found himself unable to fill up the canvas he
had sketched, and indisposed to prosecute the management of the super-
natural machinery with which his plan, when it was first rough-hewn,
was concerted and combined.
GLOSSARY
OF
WORDS, PHRASES, AND ALLUSIONS.
ABY, ABYE, to suffer, endure
AD UNGUEM, at the fingers' ends
ALEXIPHARMICS, antidotes to poi-
sons, etc.
À MOI! MES FRANÇAIS! Hither!
my French guard
ANASTASIUS, or Memoirs of a Greek
written at the Close of the Eigh-
teenth Century (1819), by Thomas
Hope, a member of a wealthy
Anglo-Dutch family
ANDREA FERRARA, a Scottish broad-
sword
ANILITIES, old women's follies, acts
of dotage
AQUA, etc. (p. 352), wonderful wa-
ter! it has been proved
ARGUTE, sharp, acute
ARISTARCH, a severe critic, after
Aristarchus, the most celebrated
critic of antiquity, who lived at
Alexandria before and after 200
B. C.
ARLES, earnest money
A-TROWLING, a-rolling
AVER, a draught horse
AWMOUS, alms
BACHARAC, or BACHARACH, on the
Rhine, in the wine-growing re-
gion. It is nearly 100 miles W. of
Würzburg
BACHELOR SAMSON CARRASCO. See
Don Quixote, Pt. II. chap. xiv.
BACK-SWORD, sword with only one
sharp edge
BAILIE, or BAILEY, the outer court-
yard of a feudal castle
BANDERS, Confederates
BANGSTERS, bullies, disorderly per-
sons
BARNBOUGLE, a ruined castle in
Dalmeny Park, on the Firth of
Forth, belonging to the Earl of
Rosebery; it was rebuilt in 1880
BAYES'S TRAGEDY, The Rehearsal
(1672), by George Villiers, Duke
of Buckingham, Bayes being a
character in the piece intended to
satirise Dryden. The play (a
comedy) concludes with a battle
between soldiers and hobby-
horses
BEARS, ARE YOU THERE WITH,
proverbial expression indicative
of the repetition of an annoyance.
A man, disliking a sermon on
Elisha and the bears, went the
next Sunday to a different church,
but there the sermon was from
the same text, and he exclaimed :
Are you there again with your
bears?"
""
a
BEEF-BREWIS, beef-broth
BELLONA, the ancient Romans' god-
dess of war
BENEDICITE, bless you! a blessing
BENEDICTI, etc. (p. 107), Blessed are
they who come in the name of
the Lord
BENEDICTUS, etc. (p. 338), Blessed be
he who comes in the name of the
Lord, condemned he who comes
in the name of the enemy
BIELD, shelter, refuge
BILBO, BILBÓA, a sword made at
Bilboa in North Spain
BIRLIT, made a whirring noise, spun
away
BLACK-JACK, a drinking-vessel or
ale-pitcher made of waxed lea-
ther
506
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
BLACK_ORMISTON, Concerned in the
murder of Darnley
BLEEDING HEART, the badge of the
Douglas family, from Good Earl
James having carried Bruce's
heart to Palestine
་
BODLE, a small copper coin = 4th of
a penny English
6
BOLL, or BOW, a dry measure =
bushels
BOLT-HEAD, a hollow glass globe
with a long neck, used in distilla-
tion
BORDER-DOOM, hanging
Bow, BOLL, an old Scotch measure
-6 bushels
BOWTON, HEPBURN OF, a relative of
Bothwell, an agent in the murder
Darnley
BRAG, proudly defy, challenge
BRAN, the dog of Fingal in Ossian's
Poems
BRANCHER, a young bird able to
leave the nest and hop about on
the branches
BRANDY-WINE, brandy
BRANLE, dance
BRAVADE, boast
BRENT BROW, smooth, high fore-
head
BROKEN CLAN, one that had no
chief able to find security for their
good behaviour, as the Græmes
of the Debateable Land
BROWNIE, a gnome. See Elshie in
the Black Dwarf
BUMBASTED, or BOMBASTED, stuffed
with cotton-wool, etc.
CALEB WILLIAMS (1794), by William
Godwin, father of Shelley's wife
CALIBURN, the sword of King Arthur
CALIPOLIS, wife of the Moorish
prince in Peele's play The Battle
of Alcazar
CALLOT'S TEMPTATIONS, the master-
piece of Jacques Callot, a 17th
century engraver of Nancy, whose
plates witness to a most fantastic
and grotesque imagination
CALM SOUGH, a quiet tongue
CAMBUSCAN, king of Sarra in Tar-
tary, the model of kingly virtues,
figures in Chaucer's Squire's Tale
and in Spenser's Faerie Queene,
Bk. iv.
CANTHARIDES, Spanish flies, used to
raise blisters an animal not a
vegetable poison
CARDINAL (p. 406). See Uncle the
Cardinal
CARRASCO, BACHELOR SAMSON. See
Bachelor Samson Carrasco
CARSLOGIE, LAIRD OF, the head of
the Clephane family; the house
stands 1 miles from Cupar in
Fife
CATES, delicacies, fancy confection-
ery
CATHOLICON, universal remedy
CELSUS, a physician of the 1st Cen-
tury A.D., wrote in Latin a his-
tory of medicine as practised in
ancient Alexandria
CHANGE-HOUSE, alehouse
CHIRAGRA, gout in the hand
CHRISTIAN MAJESTY, Francis II.,
king of France; His Very Chris-
tian Majesty was the usual title-
designate of the king of France
CHURCHILL, a satiric poet of the
18th century. See Boswell's Life
of Johnson, under the year 1763
CLOUT, a mark in the very middle
of the target
CLOUTED, mended
COCK OF THE NORTH, Earl of Huntly
COG, to cheat, deceive, wheedle
Coir, woman's cap or covering for
the head
COLEWORT, any kind of greens
COLMAN'S DRAMA, The Iron Chest, a
three-act drama founded on God-
win's Caleb Williams, was written
by George Colman, junior, and
produced in 1796
COMMENDATOR, lay holder of a bene-
fice
CONJURAVERUNT, etc. (p. 110), The
princes have conspired among
themselves, saying, Let us cast
His cords from us
CORBIE, raven; CORBIE-MESSENGER,
one that returns too late or not at
all, an allusion to Noah's raven
CORDINARE, Cordwainer, shoemaker,
leather-worker
CORONACH, dirge
COURANTO, a lively, rapid dance
COURCELLES, French ambassador in
Scotland, 1586-87
CRACK-HEMP, CRACK-HALTER,
one
fated to come to the gallows
CRAFTESCHILDER, servants, etc., of
craftsmen, artizans
CROWD, a fiddle
CROWN OF THE SUN, old French gold
coin of Louis XI. and Charles
GLOSSARY.
507
VIII., with the sun shown above
the crown = 148.
CRUIZUEDOR, or CRUZADE D'OR, a
Portuguese gold coin worth about
half-a-crown
CUBICULAR, groom of the bedcham-
ber, chamberlain
CUITTLE, to tickle, wheedle
CULPAS MEAS, my sins
CURCH, Woman's cap
CUT, a gelding a term of reproach
CYPRUS, thin black stuff
See
DALMATIQUE, a loose, long ecclesias-
tical robe, with wide sleeves
DANSKE, Danish
DARK GREY MAN (Douglas).
Note 21, p. 497
DARNAWAY (CASTLE), the seat of the
Earl of Murray, near Forres in
Elginshire
DEBATEABLE LAND, between the
rivers Sark and Esk, on the bor-
ders of Cumberland and Dumfries
DES RODOMONTADES ESPAGNOLLES,
a collection of tales, anecdotes,
etc., of Spanish boasting, taken
from various authors by Jacques
Gautier, or Gaultier (Rouen,
1612)
DIASCORDIUM, confection of scor-
dium, the water germander
DIGHT YOUR GABS, wipe your
mouths, be silent
DINK, to deck, adorn
DISCERNIT, etc. (p. 332), The wise
man discriminates things which
the fool confounds
DISPONIT UPON, disposed of
Dooм, judgment, verdict
DORTOUR, a dormitory
DOUCE, sober sedate
DOUGLAS, LADY OF THE HOUSE OF
(p. 395). Catherine Douglas en-
deavoured to keep out the mur-
derers of James I. of Scotland by
thrusting her arm through the
staple of the door (1437)
DO VENIAM, I give you leave
Dow, dove
DUDGEON-DAGGER, a small dagger
with an ornamental wooden haft
DUENNA, an old woman who
watches that a younger observes
the rules of decorum
DRAPHANE, or DRAFFAN, a castle be-
longing to the Hamiltons in Fife-
shire; but Mary proceeded to
Hamilton Park when she left Nid-
drie Castle
DRAWCANSIR, a blustering braggart,
in The Rehearsal (1672), by G. Vil-
liers, Duke of Buckingham
DREADOUR, dread, fear
DUKE OF ORKNEY, James Hemp-
burn, Earl of Bothwell
DUNCANSBAY HEAD, in the extreme
north of Scotland
EARN, or ERNE, an eagle
ELECTUARY, a medical confection or
paste
EN CHAMP CLOS, in an inclosed field
ERNE, or EARN, eagle
EVERICHE, every
EXHERIDATED, OT EXHEREDated, dis-
inherited
EX ORIBUS PARVULORUM, Out of the
mouths of babes
FACIES HIPPOCRATICA, hippocratic
or sickly countenance
FARTHINGALE, a hoop petticoat
FASH, trouble, concern
FELL, skin; cruel
FIAT EXPERIMENTUM, etc. (p 402),
Let the experiment be made upon
a common body
FLAUNES, or FLAMS, pancakes
FLEECH, to flatter, cajole
FOURE-HAMMER, sledge-hammer
FOUR-HOURS' PENNY, four o'clock
meal-phrase used by Knox
Fox, an old-fashioned broadsword
FRACK, bold, prompt and resolute
FRENCH PARIS, or NICHOLAS HU-
BERT, a servant of Bothwell, some-
time also of Mary, assisted in the
murder of Darnley
FROUNCE, a distemper in hawks
FRUSTRA, etc. (p. 408), In vain we
vex the sick with remedies
GAILLARD, Wanton
GALLIARD, a lively dance; a gay
youth
GALLOWAY NAG, a small
small strong
breed of Galloway, the southwest
extremity of Scotland
GALOPIN, Scullion, cook's boy
GAMBADE, gambol, leap, spring
GAMBADOES, gaiters, leggings
GARBOILES, broils, confusions
GAZEHOUND, a hound that pursues
by sight, greyhound
GEAR, matter, business
GEAR-MEN, men in armour
GESTIC LORE, knowledge of dancing
GLED, a kite
508
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
GLEG, quick, sharp, keen
GORDON, SIR JOHN, fourth son of
the Earl of Huntly, and one of
Queen Mary's lovers, was be-
headed at Aberdeen for treason in
1562
GOSPELLERS, reformers
GOUSTY, dreary, desolate
GOWD, TO LAY, to embroider in gold
GRAITHED, equipped, decked
GREYSTEIL, Sir Greysteil, a metrical
romance, in which are narrated
the exploits of a brave knight, Sir
Greysteil. To call a man by this
title, as James V. did Archibald
Douglas of Kilspindie, was es-
teemed a choice compliment. See
Sir Eger
GUISES. Mary's mother was of this
powerful French (Lorraine) fam-
ily
GUY OF WARWICK, the hero of a
mediæval romance, slew a fierce
Dun Cow on Dunsmore heath,
near Rugby
HACKIT, or HAWKIT, White-faced
HAGG, Or HAG, a pit or break in a
morass
HAGGARD, a wild hawk that has
been tamed
HALIDOME, land held under a re-
ligious house
HARQUEBUSS, an ancient firelock
HARRY GROAT, a groat 4d., of Hen-
ry VIII.
HAWICK TO HERMITAGE CASTLE.
Mary rode in one day from Jed-
burgh (not Hawick) to Hermit-
age Castle, near the Border, and
back, a total distance of 40 miles,
to visit the Earl of Bothwell, who
had been wounded in a Border
fight
HAY OF LUNCARTY, the ancestor of
three noble Scottish families
Errol, Tweeddale, and Kinnoul-
was originally a peasant, who
saved the Scottish army from de-
feat by the Danes shortly before
the year 994
HAY OF TALLA, a Borderer, con-
cerned in the murder of Darnley
HERLING, young of the sea-trout
HEYWOOD, THOMAS, dramatist and
actor of the first half of the 17th
century
HIC JACET, etc. (p. 139), Here lies
Abbot Eustace
HOB (ORMISTON), uncle of the Black
Laird of Ormiston, concerned in
the murder of Darnley
HOBBY, a strong, active nag
HODDEN-GREY, rough cloth, the
natural colour of the wool
HOLYROOD PALACE was rebuilt in
the reign of Charles II. not
Charles I., namely, between 1671
and 1679
HOODIE, or HOODED, CROW, the car-
rion crow
HORN, PUT TO. See Put to horn
HORS D'OEUVRE, digression
HOURS, a Roman Catholic book of
prayers for private devotions
HoWFF, a haunt, resort
HOWLET, the owl
ILK, the same; ILKA, every
IN ADVERSITATE, etc. (p. 495), pa-
tient in adversity, benevolent in
prosperity
IN DUBIO, in doubt
INJEER, OR INGERE, to insinuate, force
one's self in insidiously
"IN MY SCHOOL-DAYS," etc. (p. 10)
See Merchant of Venice, Act i. sc. 1
INTER NOS, between ourselves
INTRATE, MEI FILII, Enter, my sons
JACK-A-LENT VISAGES, long, serious
faces, like penitents in Lent
JEDDART STAFF, a species of battle-
axe formerly used by the men of
Jedburgh or Jeddart
JERKING, a beating, whipping
JESSES, straps fastened round the
legs of a hawk
JESTER, CELEBRATED (p. 147). How-
leglass, the German Till Eulen-
spiegel (i.e. Owl-Glass)
JE SUIS, etc. (p. 495), I am neither
king nor prince; I am the Lord
of Coucy
JIBBAT, gibbet
JIGGETING, behaving in an affected
manner, flaunting
Jouk, stoop, duck down; JOUK AND
LET THE JAW GANG BY, stoop and
let the wave pass
JOUR DE JEÛNE, a fast-day
JULEP, a sweet drink, cordial
KAIL, colewort, cabbage
KAIN-FOWLS, fowls paid as part of
rent
KELPIE, a water-spirit
KENT, to propel a boat by pushing
GLOSSARY.
509
a long pole against the bottom of
the lake
KERRS, of Cessford and Fernieherst,
powerful Border chieftains, Cath-
olics and supporters of Mary
Queen of Scots
KING CANDAULES, of ancient Ly-
dia in Asia Minor, who exposed
his wife to Gyges, in the 6th cen-
tury B. C. The lady persuaded
Gyges to slay her husband, and
then married the slayer
KIRN-MILK, buttermilk
KITTLE, ticklish, difficult
KNAPSCAP, KNAPSCHALLE, or KNAP-
SCULL, headpiece or helmet
LADIES SANDILANDS AND OLIFAUNT.
The third dame of the trio was
named Weir. See Allan Ramsay's
Evergreen (1724), vol. i.
LA MER DES HISTOIRES, a universal
history or chronicle, translated
(1848) from the Mare Historiarum
of John Colonna, Dominican, who
in 255 was made Archbishop of
Messina, Sicily
LANDWARD TOWN, rural, inland
farmstead
LANERCOST, an ancient abbey in
Cumberland, close beside the Ro-
man Wall
LAVOLTA, a lively dance with a
leaping step
LAWING, tavern-bill
LEAST PENNY, a worthless person
LENNOX, a former county of Scot-
land, embracing Dumbarton and
parts of Stirling, Perth, and Ren-
frew
LENNOX, HIM OF THE, Henry Darn-
ley, eldest son of the Earl of Len-
nox
LENTEN-KAIL, broth made without
meat
LET, retard, hinder
LICITUM SIT, It may be allowed
LICTOR, an ancient Roman execu-
tive officer
LORETTO, On the Italian coast of the
Adriatic, 15 miles from Ancona;
a church there contains the (re-
puted) house in which the Virgin
Mary lived at Nazareth
LUATH, the dog of Cuthullin, in
Ossian's Poems: "Fingal"
LUNGA ROBA CORTA SCIENZA, Long
robe but little knowledge
LUNT, lighted match, torch
LURDANE, Worthless fellow, block-
head
LIMBO LAKE, where unbaptized
children and good heathens were
believed by the Roman Catholic
Church to spend their eternity
LING, thin, long grass; heather
LITHER, lazy
LOANING, lane, meadow
LOCKERAM, Coarse linen
LORDS OF THE CONGREGATION, leaders
of the Reformation in Scotland
MAIL, baggage
MAIL-GARDENER, one who cultivates
fruit, etc., on land for which he
pays rent
MAIR, more
MALVOLIO, the steward in Shakes-
peare's Twelfth Night
MA MIGNONNE, my darling
MARIES, FOUR, young ladies of noble
birth, attendants of the Queen-
Mary Livingstone, Mary Fleming,
Mary Seatoun, and Mary Beatoun
MARK, a Scotch coin = is. 1 d.; a
Dutch coin = about 1s. 6d.
MAROT, CLÉMENT, poet, translated
the Psalms into French verse
(1541) which were very popular
at court, and usually sung to sec-
ular airs
MASSYMORE, a dungeon, a word of
Moorish origin, introduced prob-
ably during the crusading era
MAZZARD, the head, skull
MEDICAMENTUM, medicine
MENZIE, the entire establishment
MERCAT CROw, market cross
MESSAN, a small dog, lap - dog;
MESSAN-PAGE, cur of a page
METOPOSCOPICAL, physiognomical
MEW, to confine; cage for hawks
MICKLE, great, big
MINION, a favourite; pert saucy wo-
man
MINT, to aim at
MIRROR OF KNIGHTHOOD, with fuller
title, The Mirror of Princely Deeds
and Knighthood, etc., translated out
of the Spanish by Margaret Tyler and
R. P. (1585-1601.)
MITHRIDATE, an antidote to poison
MORE SCOTICo, in Scotch fashion
MORISCO BELLS, used in a morris
dance
MUMCHANCE, an old game at cards
or dice, in which silence was ab-
solutely necessary
1
510
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
MUNGO IN THE PADLOCK, a play
(1768) by Isaac Bickerstaffe, the
plot being based upon Cervantes's
novel, The Jealous Husband
MÜNSTER, BISHOP OF, Suppressed
with violence the fanatic and im-
pious proceedings of the Ana-
baptists in Münster, the capital
of Westphalia, in 1535
MUTCHKIN, a liquid measure = pint
MY REBEL SUBJECTS SAW ME, etc. (p.
449), an allusion to the condition
in which Mary was led into Edin-
burgh after the battle of Car-
berry Hill, and the scenes that
followed in the Provost's house
MYSTAGOGUE, interpreter of mys-
teries
NE ACCESSERIS, etc. (p. 310), Go not
into the council-chamber unless
invited
NEIGHBOURED ILL, agreed ill, dis-
agreed
NICK WITH NAY, disappoint by de-
nying
NICOL FOREST, a Border district of
Cumberland
OBLAST, obliged, engaged to
OVER HEAVEN'S FORBODE, Heaven
forbid; OVER GOD'S FORBODE, God
forbid
PAIRMAIN, a variety of apple
PAJON, HENRI, a Parisian lawyer.
Prince Soly was published in 1740
PALINURUS, the steersman of Eneas.
See Virgil's Eneid, v
PANTLER, keeper of pantry, one in
charge of provisions
PANTOUFLE, slipper
PARCEL POET, a bit of a poet, in-
different poet
PARENT, relative
PARTLET, a portion of dress, as a
kerchief, for a lady's neck and
shoulders
PAR VOIE DU FAIT, by violence, ac-
tual force
PASCHE, Easter
PATCH, paltry fellow, fool
PAVEN, or PAVAN, a slow, stately
dance
PEARLIN MUFFLER, a lace veil
PEEL-HOUSE, a small square tower
of refuge
PESTIS, the plague
PETITE FLAMBERGE À RIEN, useless
little sword
PETRONEL, horseman's large pistol
PICKTHANK, an officious intermed-
dler, toady
PIE, magpie
PILNIEWINKS, instruments for tor-
turing the fingers
PLACK, a small copper coin = }d of
a penny English
PLEACH, to interweave, plash
POCULUM MANE, etc. (p. 319), A cup
drained in the morning restores
exhausted nature
PODAGRA, gout in the foot
POMANDER BOX, a box of perfume
POPINJAY, parrot
PORTIONER, one possessing or in-
heriting part of a property
POTTLE, POTTLE-POT, a vessel holding
2 quarts, tankard
PRÆMIA CUM, etc. (p. 321), The
doctor is the devil when he asks
for his fees
PRÆTOR, a Roman magistrate
PRAGMATIC, meddlesome, officious
PROPALE, to publish
PROUD PEAT, a person of insufferable
pride
PUDDING-BURN HOUSE, a stronghold
of the Armstrongs in Liddesdale.
See the circumstances alluded to
in Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border; "Dick o' the Cow," vol. ii.
pp. 63-75
PUIR, poor
PUT TO HORN, publicly call upon one
to pay a debt under pain of being
proclaimed guilty of treason
PYET, magpie
QUARRELL-PANE, a diamond-shaped
pane, formed like a quarrell, the
head of the arrow of a cross-bow
QUEAN, wench
QUEEN REGENT, Mary of Guise (of
Lorraine), mother of Mary Queen
of Scots
QUHELE, wheel
QUHILL, till
QUID DICIS, MI FILI, What dost thou
say, my son?
QUOUSQUE DOMINE? how long, O
Lord?
RAYMOND LULLIUS, a 13th century
philosopher, a native of Majorca,
who invented a system of me-
chanical logic with which he tried
1
GLOSSARY.
511
to convert the Mohammedans to
Christianity
REDDER'S LICK, the blow that so
often falls on one who interferes
in a quarrel
REDD UP, tidy, put in order
REDE, to counsel, advise; advice
REGALITY, LORD OF, one holding
territorial jurisdiction conferred
by the king
RESETTER, one who harbours loose
characters and criminals
RÉVEILLEZ-VOUS, etc. (p. 431),
Awake, fair sleeper
RIFLER, a hawk that catches its
prey by the feathers only
RIVE, to rend, tear
Rock, distaff
ROKE, a rock
ROSEBERRY TOPPING, a conspicuous
hill in Cleveland, North Riding
of Yorkshire
ROSEWAL AND LILIAN, a popular
metrical romance that was still
sung in the streets of Edinburgh
as late as 1770. See Laing, Early
Metrical Tales (1826)
ROWAN-TREE, in popular supersti-
tion a charm against witches
RUFFLE, to play the bully, quarrel
RUNG, club, cudgel
SABEA, properly Sabra, daughter
of Ptolemy, king of Egypt, the
maiden who was rescued from
the Dragon by St. George
ST. JAMES OF COMPOSTELLA, a cele-
brated resort of pilgrims, at San-
tiago, 30 miles from Corunna, in
the north of Spain
ST. MARTIN OF BULLIONS, the St.
Swithin or weeping saint of Scot-
land. If his festival (4th, i.e. 15th,
July) prove wet, forty days of
rain are expected
SALERNO, SCHOOL OF, ranked as the
first medical school in Europe
during the early Middle Ages
SALVE IN NOMINE SANCTO, Hail in
the holy name; SALVETE ET VOS,
Hail also to you
SAMPSON'S VOW-BREAKER, or The
Fair Maid of Clifton (1636), by
William Sampson
SCOTT, MICHAEL, the magician, who
figures in Scott's Lay of the Last
Minstrel
SAMYNE, same
SANCTE BENEDICTE, ORA PRO ME, St.
Benet, pray for me
SCALIT, dispersed, separated
SCAUR, a precipitous bank or rock
SCRIP, to mock, gibe
SEXTON'S POUND, the grave
SINCLAIR OLIVER, an unworthy fa-
vourite of James V.
SIR EGER, one of the heroes of the
popular 16th century Scottish
romance Sir Eger, Sir Grahame,
and Sir Greysteil, or Sir Edgar and
Sir Grime
SIR GRIME. See Sir Eger
SKEELY, skilful, cunning in sim-
ples, etc.
SNIGGLING, Smirking
SNOOD, a fillet with which a maiden
binds her hair
SNOTTRETH, bubbles
SNUG THE JOINER, a character in
Midsummer Night's Dream
SOLTRA EDGE, or SOUTRA HILL, the
westernmost ridge of the Lam-
mermore Hills in Lothian
SPAE-WIFE, fortune-teller
SPERNIT DONA FIDES, the faithful
(dog) despises bribes
SPRINGALD, a stripling
SQUAB, short and thick, squat
STAMMEL, red linsey-woolsey
STAVING AND TAILING, striking the
bear with a staff and pulling the
dog by the tail
STEIKIT, Shut
STENTOR, the Greek herald in the
Trojan War, whose voice was
equal to those of any fifty men
STOOP (of a falcon), swoop, darting
down on its prey
STOUP, a vessel or measure for
liquids
SUB SIGILLO CONFESSIONIS, under the
seal of confession
SUBTRISTE, somewhat sad
SUB UMBRA VITIS SUI, under the
shade of his own vine
SUCCORY, chicory
SUPERCEID, to suspend, postpone
TACE IS LATIN FOR A CANDLE, silence
is the word
TALE-PYET, a tell-tale
TENT, attend, tend
TERCEL GENTLE, a trained male fal-
con
TESTIFICATE, certificate
TESTOON, OR TESTON, a silver coin
= 18
Theban, LEARNED, a learned man
f
512
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
a Shakespearian phrase (Lear,
Act iii. sc. 4)
THESPIS, the originator of the an-
cient Greek drama
THUMBIKINS, thumb-screws, instru-
ment of torture
TILBURY, a gig
TILLYVALLEY,
for-!
nonsense! a fig
TOCALL UP HIM, etc. (p. 494), from
Milton's Il Penseroso
TOLBOOTH, jail
TOTUS MUNDUS, etc. (p. 325), The
whole world acts the player
TOUR DE JONGLEUR, juggler's trick.
TRANGAM, OR TRANGRAM, a trinket,
trumpery ornament
TRON, a church on the High Street
of Edinburgh
TUSSIS, a cough
TUTO, CITO JUCUNDE, safely, quickly,
pleasantly
TWO AND A PLACK, two Scotch pen-
nies and a plack = d. English
UNCLE THE CARDINAL, Charles of
Guise, brother to Mary's mother,
was the real ruler of France dur-
ing the reign of Mary's first hus-
band, the feeble Francis II.
UN DIEU, etc. (p. 495), one God, one
faith, one king, one law
USQUEBAUGH, whisky
VASQUINE, or BASQUINE, gown or
petticoat, worn by Basque and
Spanish women
VENDISSE, or VENDACE, a rare kind
•
of white fish, whose flesh is ae-
counted a great delicacy
VERTU-GARDIN, a hoop petticoat
VIN-DE-PAYS, the common wine of
the country
VIVERS, Victuals
VIX LICITUM, Scarcely allowable
WANION, WITH A, with a vengeance,
the devil!
WAP, flap, stroke of a wing
WARLOCK, a wizard
WAUR, worse
WEFT, or WAFT, a waving, beckon-
ing, signalling
WEIRD, fate, destiny
WEIR-MEN, war-men, soldiers
WELTED, furnished with a hem or
border
WHAUP, curlew
WHILLY, to gull, wheedle
WHITE-BOY, petted favourite, dar-
ling
Wimple, a veil
WINE AND BUSH. Vintners and
tavern-keepers used in the Middle
Ages to hang out a bush or bunch
of ivy to indicate that their house
was an inn; hence the proverb,
"Good wine needs no bush"
WITCH OF BERKLEY. See Southey's
ballad The Old Woman of Berkeley
WONOT, Will not
WRATH YOU NOT, do not get wroth
WYLIE-COAT, under vest
YOLDRING, or YORLIN, a yellow
hammer, bird
a
•
INDEX.
ABBOT, the Novel, 7
Abbot of Unreason, 143, 147, 489.
See also Woodcock, Adam
Ambrosius, or Ambrose, Father,
elected abbot, 140; confronts the
revellers, 148; meeting with his
brother, 164; admonishes Roland
at Kinross, 344; at Lochleven
Castle, 434; at Langside, 459; pro-
tests against Mary going to Eng-
land, 480; his last days, 484
Arbroath, Lord, 450; hot zeal at
Langside, 463
Auchtermuchty, the carrier, 318,
411
Author, his Introduction, 7; Epis-
tle to Captain Clutterbuck, 15;
anecdote of his father, 488
Avenel, Lady of, her lonely life, 18;
witnesses Roland's accident, 224
her affection for him, 24, 35; in-
terview with Magdalen Græme,
29
BARTON, Elizabeth, Nun of Kent,
132, 488
Blinkhoolie. See Boniface, Abbot
Boniface, Abbot, at Kinross, 349,
443; at Dundrennan, 477
Bridget, Abbess, 108; her fanati-
cism, 123; chides Catherine, 129
Bruce, and Melrose, 502
CHALMERS'S Life of Queen Mary,
quoted, 498
Clutterbuck, Captain, Author's
Epistle to, 15
Coleridge's Cristabel, quoted, 494
Crookstone Castle, 467, 500
DAN of the Howlethirst. See Dragon
Dark Grey Man (Douglas), 348, 497
Darnley's murder, 181, 383
Douce's Illustrations to Shakspeare,
quoted, 491
Douglas, George, 262; his talk with
Roland on the loch, 295; con-
fesses his treachery,
his treachery, 366; at
Dryfesdale's death, 413; protects
Mary against the bullets, 442; his
care for her on the ride, 446; his
pride, 451; watches over Mary at
Langside, 464; his death, 473; the
historical person, 498
Douglas, William, 499
Dragon, at Kennaquhair, 145; strips
off his disguise, 158
Drury, his reports to Cecil, 499
Dryfesdale, Jasper, 287; locks out
Roland, 361; asks him to carry
the tidings, 371; attempts to
poison Mary, 387; his fatalism,
391, 414; himself bears the tidings,
410; slain by Henry Seyton, 413
Dundrennan Abbey, Mary at, 476
EDINBURGH, approach to, 178;
streets of, 182
Eustatius, Abbot, controversy with
Warden, 19, 29
Evil spirits, superstition regarding,
169, 494
FAIRS, Scottish, 316, 497
Fanfarona, 195, 496
"Fause Foodrage," 488
Fisher, Ralph, 78
Fleming, Dame Mary, 253; remon-
strates with Catherine, 284; leav-
ing Lochleven Castle, 440
Flemings and Hollanders, 42
GANELON, the traitor, 302, 496
Glendinning, Edward. See Ambro-
sius, Abbot
Glendinning, Sir Halbert, his posi-
tion, 17; returns to Avenel Castle,
38; description of, 40; his lineage,
44, 487; his coldness to Roland,
46; interrupts the revellers, 157;
takes Roland into his service, 162
meeting with his brother, 164
pursues Roland at Langside, 471
Glendonwyne lineage, 44, 487
•
33
514
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
Glossary, 505
""
Goss-hawk, 105, 488. See also
Fause Foodrage'
Græme, Magdalen, interview with
Lady Avenel, 29; meets Roland
at St. Cuthbert's, 91; guides him,
98; gets admittance into the nun-
nery, 107; her fanaticism, 123,
131; takes Roland to Abbey of St.
Mary's, 135; her indignation at
the revellers, 149, 152; gives her
permission to Roland, 166; her
injunctions to him, 170; as Mother
Nicneven, 321; upbraids Roland,
340; brought to Lochleven Castle,
399; her enthusiasm for Mary,
403; announces Roland's descent,
453; the name Mother Nicneven,
497
"L
Græme, Roland, rescued by Wolf,
22; taken into Lady Avenel's ser-
vice, 32; shrinks from Sir Hal-
bert, 46; his position at Avenel
Castle, 48; knocks down the fal-
coner, 53; goes out of the chapel,
63; expelled the castle, 71; en-
counter with Ralph Fisher, 78;
assisted by Woodcock, 86; meets
Magdalen Græme, 91; his attach-
ment to Roman Catholic Church,
99; first sees Catherine, 112; finds
her in the cow-stable, 127; on the
road with Magdalen, 134; stabs
the Abbot of Unreason, 153; en-
ters Sir Halbert's service, 163;
sets off for Edinburgh, 174; aids
the Seytons, 184; pursues Cather-
ine, 188; invades Lord Seyton's
house, 190; in presence of Mur-
ray, 204; at St. Michael's hostelry,
217; recognises Catherine (Henry)
as a page, 221; accepts the sword,
224; appointed page to Mary, 235;
arrives at Lochleven Castle, 249
draws Lord Seyton's sword, 272;
attends upon Dame Fleming and
Catherine, 282; listens to Hender-
son's instructions, 292; thoughts
of leaving Lochleven, 294; con-
fides in George Douglas, 295; up-
braided by Catherine, 300; warned
by Henderson, 305; visits Kin-
ross, 315; in company with Dr.
Lundin, 317; recognises Cather-
ine (Henry) again, 330; makes
love to her (him), 332; follows
her (him) to Mother Nicneven's,
337; upbraided by Mother Nic-
neven, 338; interview with Ab-
bot Ambrosius, 344; altercation
with Dryfesdale, 354; locked out,
361; confronts Henry Seyton in
the garden, 364; declines to carry
the tidings, 373; won over by
Catherine, 375; matters cleared
up with Catherine, 423; forges
false keys, 430; steals the real
keys, 437; locks the castle doors
behind him, 440; disputes with
Henry Seyton, 453; approaches
the battle at Langside, 468; res-
cues Henry Seyton, 471; his lin-
eage, 482; his marriage, 484
HAWKS, for falconry, 52; bag for
their meat, 86, 487
Henderson, the chaplain, 288; his
talk with Roland, 305; conversa-
tion with Mary, 310
Hobby-horse, 145, 491
Hollanders and Flemings, 42
Holyrood House, time of tale, 196
Howleglas. See Abbot of Unreason
Howlet, poem, 434, 498
Hunting mass, 141, 489
Hyndman, the usher, 203, 206
INTRODUCTION, Author's, 7; Epistle
to Captain Clutterbuck, 15
KEIRY CRAIGS, 319, 411, 497
Keltie, Old, the landlord, 411
Kennaquhair, monastery of, 135
Kinross, revels at, 316, 325
Kirk of Field, 181, 383
LANGLANDS, William, the apparitor,
490
Langside, battle of, 462, 500
Latimer, Bishop, quoted, 492
Leslies, skirmish with the Seytons,
183
Lilias, the waiting-maid, 28, 36, 38,
66, 484; informs upon Roland,
57; discusses him with Wingate,
56, 72
Lindesay, Lord, 240; reception of,
by Mary, 259; his brutal rudeness
to her, 277, 496
Listneth, gode people, everiche
one," 328
Lochleven, Lady of, 247; sends Ro-
land to Kinross, 309; in attendance
on Mary, 355; learns of George
Douglas's treachery, 366; is told
by Dryfesdale of his attempt to
poison Mary, 387; her anxiety,
390; acts as steward, 419; taunted
"
INDEX.
515
by Mary, 428; the keys stolen
from her, 437
Lochleven Castle, 244; Mary's life
at, 289; her escape from, 439
Lundin, Dr. Luke, 316; brought to
Lochleven Castle, 398
MAIDEN of Morton, 201, 496
Mary Queen of Scots, her situation,
179; description of, 249; emotion
on hearing Lindesay's voice, 254;
receives the deputation, 258; ab-
dicates the throne, 276, 496; her
life at Lochleven, 289; interview
with Henderson, 310; detected
in flight, 366; accepts Roland's
devoted offer, 381; reminded of
Darnley's murder, 383; the at-
tempt to poison her, 387; acts the
sick person, 396; supposed con-
spiracy against her, 408, 498;
taunts Lady of Lochleven, 428;
her escape, 439, 498; her demean-
our and bearing, 439, 498; shows
herself to her adherents, 449; in-
terposes between Roland and
Henry Seyton, 452; at the battle
of Langside, 462; takes refuge in
England, 479
Mass, hunting, 141, 489
Melrose Abbey, 502. See also Ken-
naquhair
Melville, Sir Robert, 240, 496; at
Lochleven, 258; advises Mary, 272
Morton, Earl of, his interviews with
Murray, 208, 238
Muffled man, 416, 498
Murray, the Regent, 204; in con-
ference with Morton, 208, 238; in-
structions to Roland, 235
NICNEVEN, Mother. See Græme,
Magdalen
Nicolas, Father, his grave, 138
Niddrie Castle, Queen Mary at, 447
Nun of Kent, 132, 488
PLAY, open-air, at Kinross, 325
Peter Bridge-Ward, 174
Physicians, pedantry of, 317
RANDAL, retainer of Lochleven, 248,
389, 421
Rizzio, place of his assassination,
202; Ruthven's part in, 262
Robin Hood and Little John, 145,
491
Rosabelle, Mary's horse, 446
Ruthven, Lord, at Lochleven, 262
ST. BRIDGET, nunnery of, 127, 488
St. Cuthbert's cell, 66, 429
St. Michael's hostelry, 217
St. Serf Island, 360
Scotland, condition of, time of tale
76, 179, 458
Scottish fairs, 316, 497
Seyton, Catherine, 112; first talk
with Roland, 115; discovered in
the cow-stable, 127; espied by
Roland in Edinburgh, 188; in
attendance on Queen Mary, 256;
teazes Roland, 281; upbraids him,
300; wins him to the Queen, 375
her anger at Lady Fleming, 384;
clears up matters with him, 423;
pledges herself for Roland's fidel-
ity, 440; at Langside, 463; mar-
riage, 484
Seyton, Henry, at St. Michael's
hostelry, 221; gives Roland the
sword, 224; switches Woodcock,
227; in disguise at Kinross, 328;
mistaken for Catherine, 331; fol-
lowed by Roland, 337; confronted
by him, 364; stabs Dryfesdale,
413; assists Mary to escape, 440
his dispute with Roland, 452
goes to his father's aid, 466;
rescued by Roland, and death, 471
Seyton, Lord, fight with the Leslies,
183; rewards Roland, 194; his ad-
vice to Mary, 272; at Niddrie Cas-
tle, 450; at Langside, 462; his
fidelity to Mary, 495
Sheriff of Cumberland, 479
Sir John Oldcastle, quoted, 490
Spirits, evil, superstition regarding,
169, 494
Tales of the Genii, quoted, 494
"The friars of Fail drank berry-
brown ale," 177
The Paip, that pagan full of
pride," 157, 227, 493
Tilmouth Chapel, 429
Trim-go-trix," 157, 177, 493
Trout, Scotch, 298
"
"L
UNREASON, Abbot of, 143, 489
WARDEN, Henry, 19; controversy
with Abbot Eustatius, 19, 29; re-
proves Lady Avenel, 25, 59; dis-
Îike to Roland, 50; sermon against
him, 61
White Lady of Avenel, 485
Wingate, the steward, 48; his_pol-
icy, 55; summoned before Lady
516
WAVERLEY NOVELS.
1
Avenel, 57; discusses Roland
with Lilias, 72; political specula-
tions, 76
Wing-the-Wind, Michael, 197; con-
ducts Roland to Murray, 202;
awakens him with a commission,
231
Wolf, the staghound, 22; rescues
Roland, 23; jealousy of him, 25;
delight at seeing Sir Halbert, 45
Woodcock, Adam, the falconer, 52;
knocked down by Roland, 53;
assists him, 84; acts Abbot of Un-
reason, 143, 147; his identity dis-
covered, 159; attends Roland, 173;
recognised by Wing-the- Wind,
197; carouses at St. Michael's
hostelry, 218; switched by Henry
Seyton, 227; emotion at parting
from Roland, 232; at Langside,
474; carries despatches to Roland,
481
END OF THE ABBOT.

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