Halbert was at the period when youth was most open to generous
emotions, and knows best how to appreciate them in others, and he
felt, although he hardly knew why, that, whether catholic or heretic,
the safety of this man deeply interested him. Curiosity mingled with
the feeling, and led him to wonder what the nature of those doctrines
could be, which stole their votary so completely from himself, and
devoted him to chains or to death as their sworn champion. He had
indeed been told of saints and martyrs of former days, who had braved
for their religious faith the extremity of death and torture. But
their spirit of enthusiastic devotion had long slept in the ease and
indolent habits of their successors, and their adventures, like those
of knights-errant, were rather read for amusement than for
edification. A new impulse had been necessary to rekindle the energies
of religious zeal, and that impulse was now operating in favour of a
purer religion, with one of whose steadiest votaries the youth had now
met for the first time.

The sense that he himself was a prisoner, under the power of this
savage chieftain, by no means diminished Halbert's interest in the
fate of his fellow sufferer, while he determined at the same time so
far to emulate his fortitude, that neither threats nor suffering
should compel him to enter into the service of such a master. The
possibility of escape next occurred to him, and though with little
hope of effecting it in that way, Glendinning proceeded to examine
more particularly the window of the apartment. The apartment was
situated in the first story of the castle; and was not so far from the
rock, on which it was founded, but that an active and bold man might
with little assistance descend to a shelf of rock which was
immediately below the window, and from thence either leap or drop
himself down into the lake which lay before his eye, clear and blue in
the placid light of a full summer's moon.--"Were I once placed on that
ledge," thought Glendinning, "Julian Avenel and Christie had seen the
last of me." The size of the window favoured such an attempt, but the
stanchions or iron bars seemed to form an insurmountable obstacle.

While Halbert Glendinning gazed from the window with that eagerness of
hope which was prompted by the energy of his character and his
determination not to yield to circumstances, his ear caught some
sounds from below, and listening with more attention, he could
distinguish the voice of the preacher engaged in his solitary
devotions. To open a correspondence with him became immediately his
object, and failing to do so by less marked sounds, he at length
ventured to speak, and was answered from beneath--"Is it thou, my
son?" The voice of the prisoner now sounded more distinctly than when
it was first heard, for Warden had approached the small aperture,
which, serving his prison for a window, opened just betwixt the wall
and the rock, and admitted a scanty portion of light through a wall of
immense thickness. This _soupirait_ being placed exactly under
Halbert's window, the contiguity permitted the prisoners to converse
in a low tone, when Halbert declared his intention to escape, and the
possibility he saw of achieving his purpose, but for the iron
stanchions of the window--"Prove thy strength, my son, in the name of
God" said the preacher.  Halbert obeyed him more in despair than hope,
but to his great astonishment, and somewhat to his terror, the bar
parted asunder near the bottom, and the longer part being easily bent
outwards, and not secured with lead in the upper socket, dropt out
into Halbert's hand. He immediately whispered, but as energetically as
a whisper could be expressed--"By Heaven, the bar has given way in my
hand!"

"Thank Heaven, my son, instead of swearing by it," answered Warden
from his dungeon.

With little effort Halbert Glendinning forced himself through the
opening thus wonderfully effected, and using his leathern sword-belt
as a rope to assist him, let himself safely drop on the shelf of rock
upon which the preacher's window opened. But through this no passage
could be effected, being scarce larger than a loop-hole for musketry,
and apparently constructed for that purpose.

"Are there no means by which I can assist your escape, my father?"
said Halbert.

"There are none, my son," answered the preacher; "but if thou wilt
ensure my safety, that may be in thy power."

"I will labour earnestly for it," said the youth.

"Take then a letter which I will presently write, for I have the means
of light and writing materials in my scrip--Hasten towards Edinburgh,
and on the way thou wilt meet a body of horse marching
southwards--Give this to their leader, and acquaint him of the state
in which thou hast left me. It may hap that thy doing so will
advantage thyself."

In a minute or two the light of a taper gleamed through the shot-hole,
and very shortly after, the preacher, with the assistance of his
staff, pushed a billet to Glendinning through the window.

"God bless thee, my son," said the old man, "and complete the
marvellous work which he has begun."

"Amen!" answered Halbert, with solemnity, and proceeded on his
enterprise.

He hesitated a moment whether he should attempt to descend to the edge
of the water; but the steepness of the rock, and darkness of the
night, rendered the enterprise too dangerous. He clasped his hands
above his head and boldly sprung from the precipice, shooting himself
forward into the air as far as he could for fear of sunken rocks, and
alighted on the lake, head foremost, with such force as sunk him for a
minute below the surface. But strong, long-breathed, and accustomed to
such exercise, Halbert, even though encumbered with his sword, dived
and rose like a seafowl, and swam across the lake in the northern
direction. When he landed and looked back on the castle, he could
observe that the alarm had been given, for lights glanced from window
to window, and he heard the drawbridge lowered, and the tread of
horses' feet upon the causeway. But, little alarmed for the
consequence of a pursuit during the darkness, he wrung the water from
his dress, and, plunging into the moors, directed his course to the
north-east by the assistance of the polar star

       *       *        *       *        *



Chapter the Twenty-Sixth.


  Why, what an intricate impeach is this!
  I think you all have drank of Circe's cup.
  If here you housed him, here he would have been;
  If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly.
                                  COMEDY OF ERRORS.

The course of our story, leaving for the present Halbert Glendinning
to the guidance of his courage and his fortune, returns to the Tower
of Glendearg, where matters in the meanwhile fell out, with which it
is most fitting that the reader should be acquainted.

The meal was prepared at noontide with all the care which Elspeth and
Tibb, assisted by the various accommodations which had been supplied
from the Monastery, could bestow on it. Their dialogue ran on as usual
in the intervals of their labour, partly as between mistress and
servant, partly as maintained by gossips of nearly equal quality.

"Look to the minced meat, Tibb," said Elspeth; "and turn the broach
even, thou good-for-nothing Simmie,--thy wits are harrying birds'
nests, child.--Weel, Tibb, this is a fasheous job, this Sir Piercie
lying leaguer with us up here, and wha kens for how lang?"

"A fasheous job indeed," answered her faithful attendant, "and little
good did the name ever bring to fair Scotland. Ye may have your hands
fuller of them than they are yet. Mony a sair heart have the Piercies
given to Scots wife and bairns with their pricking on the Borders.
There was Hotspur and many more of that bloody kindred, have sate in
our skirts since Malcolm's time, as Martin says!"

"Martin should keep a well-scrapit tongue in his head," said Elspeth,
"and not slander the kin of any body that quarters at Glendearg;
forby, that Sir Piercie Shafton is much respected with the holy
fathers of the community, and they will make up to us ony fasherie
that we may have with him, either by good word or good deed, I'se
warrant them. He is a considerate lord the Lord Abbot."

"And weel he likes a saft seat to his hinder end," said Tibb; "I have
seen a belted baron sit on a bare bench, and find nae fault. But an ye
are pleased, mistress, I am pleased."

"Now, in good time, here comes Mysie of the Mill.--And where hae ye
been, lass for a's gane wrang without you?" said Elspeth.

"I just gaed a blink up the burn," said Mysie, "for the young lady has
been down on her bed, and is no just that weel--So I gaed a gliff up
the burn."

"To see the young lads come hame frae the sport, I will warrant you,"
said Elspeth. "Ay, ay, Tibb, that's the way the young folk guide us,
Tibbie--leave us to do the wark, and out to the play themsells."

"Ne'er a bit of that, mistress," said the Maid of the Mill, stripping
her round pretty arms, and looking actively and good-humouredly round
for some duty that she could discharge, "but just--I thought ye might
like to ken if they were coming back, just to get the dinner forward."

"And saw ye ought of them then?" demanded Elspeth.

"Not the least tokening," said Mysie, "though I got to the head of a
knowe, and though the English knight's beautiful white feather could
have been seen over all the bushes in the Shaw."

"The knight's white feather!" said Dame Glendinning; "ye are a silly
hempie--my Halbert's high head will be seen farther than his feather,
let it be as white as it like, I trow."

Mysie made no answer, but began to knead dough for wastel-cake with
all despatch, observing that Sir Piercie had partaken of that dainty,
and commended it upon the preceding day. And presently, in order to
place on the fire the _girdle_, or iron plate on which these
cates were to be baked, she displaced a stew-pan in which one of
Tibb's delicacies were submitted to the action of the kitchen fire.
Tibb muttered betwixt her teeth--"And it is the broth for my sick
bairn, that maun make room for the dainty Southron's wastel-bread. It
was a blithe time in Wight Wallace's day, or good King Robert's, when
the pock-puddings gat naething here but hard straiks and bloody
crowns. But we will see how it will a' end."

Elspeth did not think it proper to notice these discontented
expressions of Tibbie, but they sunk into her mind; for she was apt to
consider her as a sort of authority in matters of war and policy, with
which her former experience as bower-woman at Avenel Castle made her
better acquainted than were the peaceful inhabitants of Halidome. She
only spoke, however, to express her surprise that the hunters did not
return.

"An they come not back the sooner," said Tibb, "they will fare the
waur, for the meat will be roasted to a cinder--and there is poor
Simmie that can turn the spit nae langer: the bairn is melting like an
icicle in warm water--Gang awa, bairn, and take a mouthful of the
caller air, and I will turn the broach till ye come back."

"Rin up to the bartizan at the tower-head, callant," said Dame
Glendinning, "the air will be callerer there than ony gate else, and
bring us word if our Halbert and the gentleman are coming down the
glen."

The boy lingered long enough to allow his substitute, Tibb Tacket,
heartily to tire of her own generosity, and of his cricket-stool by
the side of a huge fire. He at length returned with the news that he
had seen nobody.  The matter was not so remarkable as far as Halbert
Glendinning was concerned, for, patient alike of want and of fatigue,
it was no uncommon circumstance for him to remain in the wilds till
curfew time. But nobody had given Sir Piercie Shafton credit for being
so keen a sportsman, and the idea of an Englishman preferring the
chase to his dinner was altogether inconsistent with their
preconceptions of the national character. Amidst wondering and
conjecturing, the usual dinner-hour passed long away; and the inmates
of the tower, taking a hasty meal themselves, adjourned their more
solemn preparations until the hunters' return at night, since it
seemed now certain that their sport had either carried them to a
greater distance, or engaged them for a longer time than had been
expected.

About four hours after noon, arrived, not the expected sportsmen, but
an unlooked for visitant, the Sub-Prior from the Monastery. The scene
of the preceding day had dwelt on the mind of Father Eustace, who was
of that keen and penetrating cast of mind which loves not to leave
unascertained whatever of mysterious is subjected to its inquiry. His
kindness was interested in the family of Glendearg, which he had now
known for a long time; and besides, the community was interested in
the preservation of the peace betwixt Sir Piercie Shafton and his
youthful host, since whatever might draw public attention on the
former, could not fail to be prejudicial to the Monastery, which was
already threatened by the hand of power. He found the family
assembled, all but Mary Avenel, and was informed that Halbert
Glendinning had accompanied the stranger on a day's sport. So far was
well. They had not returned; but when did youth and sport conceive
themselves bound by set hours? and the circumstance excited no alarm
in his mind.

While he was conversing with Edward Glendinning touching his progress
in the studies he had pointed out to him, they were startled by a
shriek from Mary Avenel's apartment, which drew the whole family
thither in headlong haste. They found her in a swoon in the arms of
old Martin, who was bitterly accusing himself of having killed her; so
indeed it seemed, for her pale features and closed eyes argued rather
a dead corpse than a living person.  The whole family were instantly
in tumult. Snatching her from Martin's arms with the eagerness of
affectionate terror, Edward bore her to the casement, that she might
receive the influence of the open air; the Sub-Prior, who, like many
of his profession, had some knowledge of medicine, hastened to
prescribe the readiest remedies which occurred to him, and the
terrified females contended with, and impeded each other, in their
rival efforts to be useful.

"It has been ane of her weary ghaists," said Dame Glendinning.

"It's just a trembling on her spirits, as her blessed mother used to
have," said Tibb.

"It's some ill news has come ower her," said the miller's maiden;
while burnt feathers, cold water, and all the usual means of restoring
suspended animation, were employed alternately, and with little
effect.

At length a new assistant, who had joined the group unobserved, tendered
his aid in the following terms:--"How is this, my most fair Discretion?
What cause hath moved the ruby current of life to rush back to the
citadel of the heart, leaving pale those features in which it should
have delighted to meander for ever?--Let me approach her," he
said,"--with this sovereign essence, distilled by the fair hands of
the divine Urania, and powerful to recall fugitive life, even if it
were trembling on the verge of departure."

Thus speaking, Sir Piercie Shafton knelt down, and most gracefully
presented to the nostrils of Mary Avenel a silver pouncet-box,
exquisitely chased, containing a sponge dipt in the essence which he
recommmended so highly. Yes, gentle reader, it was Sir Piercie Shafton
himself who thus unexpectedly proffered his good offices! his cheeks,
indeed, very pale, and some part of his dress stained with blood, but
not otherwise appearing different from what he was on the preceding
evening. But no sooner had Mary Avenel opened her eyes, and fixed them
on the figure of the officious courtier, than she screamed faintly,
and exclaimed,--"Secure the murderer!"

Those present stood aghast with astonishment, and none more so than the
Euphuist, who found himself so suddenly and so strangely accused by the
patient whom he was endeavouring to succour, and who repelled his
attempts to yield her assistance with all the energy of abhorrence.
"Take him away!" she exclaimed--"take away the murderer!"

"Now, by my knighthood," answered Sir Piercie, "your lovely faculties
either of mind or body are, O my most fair Discretion, obnubilated by
some strange hallucination. For either your eyes do not discern that
it is Piercie Shafton, your most devoted Affability, who now stands
before you, or else, your eyes discerning truly, your mind hath most
erroneously concluded that he hath been guilty of some delict or
violence to which his hand is a stranger. No murder, O most scornful
Discretion, hath been this day done, saving but that which your angry
glances are now performing on your most devoted captive."

He was here interrupted by the Sub-Prior, who had, in the meantime,
been speaking with Martin apart, and had received from him an account
of the circumstances, which, suddenly communicated to Mary Avenel, had
thrown her into this state. "Sir Knight," said the Sub-Prior, in a
very solemn tone, yet with some hesitation, "circumstances have been
communicated to us of a nature so extraordinary, that, reluctant as I
am to exercise such authority over a guest of our venerable community,
I am constrained to request from you an explanation of them. You left
this tower early in the morning, accompanied by a youth, Halbert
Glendinning, the eldest son of this good dame, and you return hither
without him. Where, and at what hour, did you part company from him?"

The English knight paused for a moment, and then replied,--"I marvel
that your reverence employs so grave a tone to enforce so light a
question.  I parted with the villagio whom you call Halbert
Glendinning some hour or twain after sunrise."

"And at what place, I pray you?" said the monk.

"In a deep ravine, where a fountain rises at the base of a huge rock; an
earth-born Titan, which heaveth up its gray head, even as--"

"Spare us farther description," said the Sub-Prior; "we know the spot.
But that youth hath not since been heard of, and it will fall on you to
account for him."

"My bairn! my bairn!" exclaimed Dame Glendinning. "Yes, holy
father, make the villain account for my bairn!"

"I swear, good woman, by bread and by water,--which are the props of
our life--"

"Swear by wine and wastel-bread, for these are the props of _thy_
life, thou greedy Southron!" said Dame Glendinning;--"a base
belly-god, to come here to eat the best, and practise on our lives
that give it to him!"

"I tell thee, woman," said Sir Piercie Shafton, "I did but go with thy
son to the hunting."

"A black hunting it has been to him, poor bairn," replied Tibb; "and
sae I said it wad prove since I first saw the false Southron snout of
thee.  Little good comes of a Piercie's hunting, from Chevy Chase till
now."

"Be silent, woman," said the Sub-Prior, "and rail not upon the English
knight; we do not yet know of any thing beyond suspicion."

"We will have his heart's blood!" said Dame Glendinning; and, seconded
by the faithful Tibbie, she made such a sudden onslaught on the
unlucky Euphuist, as must have terminated in something serious, had
not the monk, aided by Mysie Happer, interposed to protect him from
their fury. Edward had left the apartment the instant the disturbance
broke out, and now entered, sword in hand, followed by Martin and
Jasper, the one having a hunting spear in his hand, the other a
cross-bow.

"Keep the door," he said to his two attendants; "shoot him or stab him
without mercy, should he attempt to break forth; if he offers an
escape, by Heaven he shall die!"

"How now, Edward," said the Sub-Prior; "how is this that you so far
forget yourself? meditating violence to a guest, and in my presence, who
represent your liege lord?"

Edward stepped forward with his drawn sword in his hand. "Pardon me,
reverend father," he said, "but in this matter the voice of nature
speaks louder and stronger than yours. I turn my sword's point against
this proud man, and I demand of him the blood of my brother--the blood
of my father's son--of the heir of our name! If he denies to give me a
true account of him, he shall not deny me vengeance."

Embarrassed as he was, Sir Piercie Shafton showed no personal fear.
"Put up thy sword," he said, "young man; not in the same day does
Piercie Shafton contend with two peasants."

"Hear him! he confesses the deed, holy father," said Edward.

"Be patient, my son," said the Sub-Prior, endeavouring to soothe the
feelings which he could not otherwise control, "be patient--thou wilt
attain the ends of justice better through my means than thine own
violence--And you, women, be silent--Tibb, remove your mistress and Mary
Avenel."

While Tibb, with the assistance of the other females of the household,
bore the poor mother and Mary Avenel into separate apartments, and
while Edward, still keeping his sword in his hand, hastily traversed
the room, as if to prevent the possibility of Sir Piercie Shafton's
escape, the Sub-Prior insisted upon knowing from the perplexed knight
the particulars which he knew respecting Halbert Glendinning. His
situation became extremely embarrassing, for what he might with safety
have told of the issue of their combat was so revolting to his pride,
that he could not bring himself to enter into the detail; and of
Halbert's actual fate he knew, as the reader is well aware, absolutely
nothing.

The father in the meanwhile pressed him with remonstrances, and prayed
him to observe, he would greatly prejudice himself by declining to
give a full account of the transactions of the day. "You cannot deny,"
he said, "that yesterday you seemed to take the most violent offence
at this unfortunate youth; and that you suppressed your resentment so
suddenly as to impress us all with surprise. Last night you proposed
to him this day's hunting party, and you set out together by break of
day. You parted, you said, at the fountain near the rock, about an
hour or twain after sunrise, and it appears that before you parted you
had been at strife together."

"I said not so," replied the knight. "Here is a coil indeed about the
absence of a rustical bondsman, who, I dare say, hath gone off (if he
be gone) to join the next rascally band of freebooters! Ye ask me, a
knight of the Piercie's lineage, to account for such an insignificant
fugitive, and I answer,--let me know the price of his head, and I will
pay it to your convent treasurer."

"You admit, then, that you have slain my brother?" said Edward,
interfering once more; "I will presently show you at what price we
Scots rate the lives of our friends."

"Peace, Edward, peace--I entreat--I command thee," said the Sub-Prior.
"And you, Sir Knight, think better of us than to suppose you may spend
Scottish blood, and reckon for it as for wine spilt in a drunken
revel.  This youth was no bondsman--thou well knowest, that in thine
own land thou hadst not dared to lift thy sword against the meanest
subject of England, but her laws would have called thee to answer for
the deed. Do not hope it will be otherwise here, for you will but
deceive yourself."

"You drive me beyond my patience," said the Euphuist, "even as the
over-driven ox is urged into madness!--What can I tell you of a young
fellow whom I have not seen since the second hour after sunrise?"

"But can you explain in what circumstances you parted with him?" said
the monk.

"What _are_ the circumstances, in the devil's name, which you
desire should be explained?--for although I protest against this
constraint as alike unworthy and inhospitable, yet would I willingly
end this fray, provided that by words it may be ended," said the
knight.

"If these end it not," said Edward, "blows shall, and that full
speedily."

"Peace, impatient boy!" said the Sub-Prior; "and do you, Sir Piercie
Shafton, acquaint me why the ground is bloody by the verge of the
fountain in Corri-nan-shian, where, as you say yourself, you parted
from Halbert Glendinning?"

Resolute not to avow his defeat if possibly he could avoid it, the
knight answered in a haughty tone, that he supposed it was no unusual
thing to find the turf bloody where hunters had slain a deer.

"And did you bury your game as well as kill it?" said the monk. "We
must know from you who is the tenant of that grave, that newly-made
grave, beside the very fountain whose margin is so deeply crimsoned
with blood?--thou seest thou canst not evade me; therefore be
ingenuous, and tell us the fate of this unhappy youth, whose body is
doubtless lying under that bloody turf."

"If it be," said Sir Piercie, "they must have buried him alive; for I
swear to thee, reverend father, that this rustic juvenal parted from
me in perfect health. Let the grave be searched, and if his body be
found, then deal with me as ye list."

"It is not my sphere to determine thy fate, Sir Knight, but that of the
Lord Abbot, and the right reverend Chapter. It is but my duty to collect
such information as may best possess their wisdom with the matters which
have chanced."

"Might I presume so far, reverend father," said the knight, "I should
wish to know the author and evidence of all these suspicions, so
unfoundedly urged against me?"

"It is soon told," said the Sub-Prior; "nor do I wish to disguise it,
if it can avail you in your defence. This maiden, Mary Avenel,
apprehending that you nourished malice against her foster-brother
under a friendly brow, did advisedly send up the old man, Martin
Tacket, to follow your footsteps and to prevent mischief. But it seems
that your evil passions had outrun precaution: for when he came to the
spot, guided by your footsteps upon the dew, he found but the bloody
turf and the new covered grave; and after long and vain search through
the wilds after Halbert and yourself, he brought back the sorrowful
news to her who had sent him."

"Saw he not my doublet, I pray you?" said Sir Piercie; "for when I
came to myself, I found that I was wrapped in my cloak, but without my
under garment as your reverence may observe."

So saying, he opened his cloak, forgetting, with his characteristical
inconsistency, that he showed his shirt stained with blood.

"How! cruel man," said the monk, when he observed this confirmation of
his suspicions; "wilt thou deny the guilt, even while thou bearest on
thy person the blood thou hast shed?--Wilt thou longer deny that thy
rash hand has robbed a mother of a son, our community of a vassal, the
Queen of Scotland of a liege subject? and what canst thou expect, but
that, at the least, we deliver thee up to England, as undeserving our
farther protection?"

"By the Saints!" said the knight, now driven to extremity, "if this
blood be the witness against me, it is but rebel blood, since this
morning at sunrise it flowed within my own veins."

"How were that possible, Sir Piercie Shafton," said the monk, "since I
see no wound from whence it can have flowed?"

"That," said the knight, "is the most mysterious part of the transaction
--See here!"

So saying, he undid his shirt collar, and, opening his bosom, showed
the spot through--which Halbert's sword had passed, but already
cicatrized, and bearing the appearance of a wound lately healed.

"This exhausts my patience, Sir Knight," said the Sub-Prior, "and is
adding insult to violence and injury. Do you hold me for a child or an
idiot, that you pretend to make me believe that the fresh blood with
which your shirt is stained, flowed from a wound which has been healed
for weeks or months? Unhappy mocker, thinkest thou thus to blind us?
Too well do we know that it is the blood of your victim, wrestling
with you in the desperate and mortal struggle, which has thus dyed
your apparel."

The knight, after a moment's recollection, said in reply, "I will be
open with you, my father--bid these men stand out of ear-shot, and I
will tell you all I know of this mysterious business; and muse not,
good father, though it may pass thy wit to expound it, for I avouch to
you it is too dark for mine own."

The monk commanded Edward and the two men to withdraw, assuring the
former that his conference with the prisoner should be brief, and
giving him permission to keep watch at the door of the apartment;
without which allowance he might, perhaps, have had some difficulty in
procuring his absence. Edward had no sooner left the chamber, than he
despatched messengers to one or two families of the Halidome, with
whose sons his brother and he sometimes associated, to tell them that
Halbert Glendinning had been murdered by an Englishman, and to require
them to repair to the Tower of Glendearg without delay. The duty of
revenge in such cases was held so sacred, that he had no reason to
doubt they would instantly come with such assistance as would ensure
the detention of the prisoner.  He then locked the doors of the tower,
both inner and outer, and also the gate of the court-yard. Having
taken these precautions, he made a hasty visit to the females of the
family, exhausting himself in efforts to console them, and in
protestations that he would have vengeance for his murdered brother.




Chapter the Twenty-Seventh.


  Now, by Our Lady, Sheriff,'tis hard reckoning,
  That I, with every odds of birth and barony
  Should be detain'd here for the casual death
  Of a wild forester, whose utmost having
  Is but the brazen buckle of the belt
  In which he sticks his hedge-knife.
                                        OLD PLAY.

While Edward was making preparations for securing and punishing the
supposed murderer of his brother, with an intense thirst for
vengeance, which had not hitherto shown itself as part of his
character, Sir Piercie Shafton made such communications as it pleased
him to the Sub-Prior, who listened with great attention, though the
knight's narrative was none of the clearest, especially as his
self-conceit led him to conceal or abridge the details which were
necessary to render it intelligible.

"You are to know," he said, "reverend father, that this rustical
juvenal having chosen to offer me, in the presence of your venerable
Superior, yourself, and other excellent and worthy persons, besides
the damsel, Mary Avenel, whom I term my Discretion in all honour and
kindness, a gross insult, rendered yet more intolerable by the time
and place, my just resentment did so gain the mastery over my
discretion, that I resolved to allow him the privileges of an equal,
and to indulge him with the combat."

"But, Sir Knight," said the Sub-Prior, "you still leave two matters
very obscure. First, why the token he presented to you gave you so
much offence, as I with others witnessed; and then again, how the
youth, whom you then met for the first, or, at least, the second time,
knew so much of your history as enabled him so greatly to move you."

The knight coloured very deeply.

"For your first query," he said, "most reverend father, we will, if
you please, pretermit it as nothing essential to the matter in hand;
and for the second--I protest to you that I know as little of his
means of knowledge as you do, and that I am well-nigh persuaded he
deals with Sathanas, of which more anon.--Well, sir--In the evening, I
failed not to veil my purpose with a pleasant brow, as is the custom
amongst us martialists, who never display the bloody colours of
defiance in our countenance until our hand is armed to fight under
them. I amused the fair Discretion with some canzonettes, and other
toys, which could not but be ravishing to her inexperienced ears. I
arose in the morning, and met my antagonist, who, to say truth, for an
inexperienced villagio, comported himself as stoutly as I could have
desired.--So, coming to the encounter, reverend sir, I did try his
mettle with some half-a-dozen of downright passes, with any one of
which I could have been through his body, only that I was loth to take
so fatal an advantage, but rather, mixing mercy with my just
indignation, studied to inflict upon him some flesh-wound of no very
fatal quality. But, sir, in the midst of my clemency, he, being
instigated, I think, by the devil, did follow up his first offence
with some insult of the same nature. Whereupon, being eager to punish
him, I made an estramazone, and my foot slipping at the same
time,--not from any fault of fence on my part, or any advantage of
skill on his, but the devil having, as I said, taken up the matter in
hand, and the grass being slippery,--ere I recovered my position I
encountered his sword, which he had advanced, with my undefended
person, so that, as I think, I was in some sort run through the body.
My juvenal, being beyond measure appalled at his own unexpected and
unmerited success in this strange encounter, takes the flight and
leaves me there, and I fall into a dead swoon for the lack of the
blood I had lost so foolishly--and when I awake, as from a sound
sleep, I find myself lying, an it like you, wrapt up in my cloak at
the foot of one of the birch-trees which stand together in a clump
near to this place.  I feel my limbs, and experience little pain, but
much weakness--I put my hand to the wound--it was whole and skinned
over as you now see it--I rise and come hither; and in these words you
have my whole day's story."

"I can only reply to so strange a tale," answered the monk, "that it
is scarce possible that Sir Piercie Shafton can expect me to credit
it. Here is a quarrel, the cause of which you conceal--a wound
received in the morning, of which there is no recent appearance at
sunset,--a grave filled up, in which no body is deposited--the
vanquished found alive and well--the victor departed no man knows
whither. These things, Sir Knight, hang not so well together, that I
should receive them as gospel."

"Reverend father," answered Sir Piercie Shafton, "I pray you in the
first place to observe, that if I offer peaceful and civil
justification of that which I have already averred to be true, I do so
only in devout deference to your dress and to your order, protesting,
that to any other opposite, saving a man of religion, a lady or my
liege prince, I would not deign to support that which I had once
attested, otherwise than with the point of my good sword. And so much
being premised, I have to add, that I can but gage my honour as a
gentleman, and my faith as a Catholic Christian, that the things which
I have described to you have happened to me as I have described them,
and not otherwise."

"It is a deep assertion, Sir Knight," answered the Sub-Prior; "yet,
bethink you, it is only an assertion, and that no reason can be
alleged why things should be believed which are so contrary to reason.
Let me pray you to say whether the grave, which has been seen at your
place of combat, was open or closed when your encounter took place?"

"Reverend father," said the knight, "I will veil from you nothing, but
show you each secret of my bosom; even as the pure fountain revealeth
the smallest pebble which graces the sand at the bottom of its crystal
mirror, and as--"

"Speak in plain terms, for the love of heaven!" said the monk; "these
holiday phrases belong not to solemn affairs--Was the grave open when
the conflict began?"

"It was," answered the knight, "I acknowledge it; even as he that
acknowledgeth--"

"Nay, I pray you, fair son, forbear these similitudes, and observe me.
On yesterday at even no grave was found in that place, for old Martin
chanced, contrary to his wont, to go thither in quest of a strayed
sheep. At break of day, by your own confession, a grave was opened in
that spot, and there a combat was fought--only one of the combatants
appears, and he is covered with blood, and to all appearance
woundless."--Here the knight made a gesture of impatience.--"Nay, fair
son, hear me but one moment--the grave is closed and covered by the
sod--what can we believe, but that it conceals the bloody corpse of
the fallen duellist?"

"By Heaven, it cannot!" said the knight, "unless the juvenal hath
slain himself and buried himself, in order to place me in the
predicament of his murderer."

"The grave shall doubtless be explored, and that by to-morrow's dawn,"
said the monk, "I will see it done with mine own eyes"

"But," said the prisoner, "I protest against all evidence which may
arise from its contents, and do insist beforehand, that whatever may
be found in that grave shall not prejudice me in my defence. I have
been so haunted by diabolical deceptions in this matter, that what do
I know but that the devil may assume the form of this rustical
juvenal, in order to procure me farther vexation?--I protest to you,
holy father, it is my very thought that there is witchcraft in all
that hath befallen me. Since I entered into this northern land, in
which men say that sorceries do abound, I, who am held in awe and
regard even by the prime gallants in the court of Feliciana, have been
here bearded and taunted by a clod-treading clown. I, whom Vincentio
Saviola termed his nimblest and most agile disciple, was, to speak
briefly, foiled by a cow-boy, who knew no more of fence than is used
at every country wake. I am run, as it seemed to me, through the body,
with a very sufficient stoccata, and faint on the spot; and yet, when
I recover, I find myself without either wem or wound, and, lacking
nothing of my apparel, saving my murrey-coloured doublet, slashed with
satin, which I will pray may be inquired after, lest the devil, who
transported me, should have dropped it in his passage among some of
the trees or bushes--it being a choice and most fanciful piece of
raiment, which I wore for the first time at the Queen's pageant in
Southwark."

"Sir Knight," said the monk, "you do again go astray from this matter.
I inquire of you respecting that which concerns the life of another
man, and it may be, touches your own also, and you answer me with the
tale of an old doublet!"

"Old!" exclaimed the knight; "now, by the gods and saints, if there be
a gallant at the British Court more fancifully considerate, and more
considerately fanciful, but quaintly curious, and more curiously
quaint, in frequent changes of all rich articles of vesture, becoming
one who may be accounted point-de-vice a courtier, I will give you
leave to term me a slave and a liar."

The monk thought, but did not say, that he had already acquired right
to doubt the veracity of the Euphuist, considering the marvellous tale
which he had told. Yet his own strange adventure, and that of Father
Philip, rushed on his mind, and forbade his coming to any conclusion.
He contented himself, therefore, with observing, that these were
certainly strange incidents, and requested to know if Sir Piercie
Shafton had any other reason for suspecting himself to be in a manner
so particularly selected for the sport of sorcery and witchcraft.

"Sir Sub-Prior," said the Euphuist, "the most extraordinary
circumstance remains behind, which alone, had I neither been bearded
in dispute, nor foiled in combat, nor wounded and cured in the space
of a few hours, would nevertheless of itself, and without any other
corroborative, have compelled me to believe myself the subject of some
malevolent fascination.  Reverend sir, it is not to your ears that men
should tell tales of love and gallantry, nor is Sir Piercie Shafton
one who, to any ears whatsoever, is wont to boast of his fair
acceptance with the choice and prime beauties of the court; insomuch
that a lady, none of the least resplendent constellations which
revolve in that hemisphere of honour, pleasure, and beauty, but whose
name I here pretermit, was wont to call me her Taciturnity.
Nevertheless truth must be spoken; and I cannot but allow, as the
general report of the court, allowed in camps, and echoed back by city
and country, that in the alacrity of the accost, the tender delicacy
of the regard, the facetiousness of the address, the adopting and
pursuing of the fancy, the solemn close and the graceful fall-off,
Piercie Shafton was accounted the only gallant of the time, and so
well accepted among the choicer beauties of the age, that no
silk-hosed reveller of the presence-chamber, or plumed jouster of the
tilt-yard, approached him by a bow's length in the ladies' regard,
being the mark at which every well-born and generous juvenal aimeth
his shaft.  Nevertheless, reverend sir, having found in this rude
place something which by blood and birth might be termed a lady, and
being desirous to keep my gallant humour in exercise, as well as to
show my sworn devotion to the sex in general, I did shoot off some
arrows of compliment at this Mary Avenel, terming her my Discretion,
with other quaint and well-imagined courtesies, rather bestowed out of
my bounty than warranted by her merit, or perchance like unto the
boyish fowler, who, rather than not exercise his bird-piece, will
shoot at crows or magpies for lack of better game----"

"Mary Avenel is much obliged by your notice," answered the monk; "but
to what does all this detail of past and present gallantry conduct
us?"

"Marry, to this conclusion," answered the knight; "that either this my
Discretion, or I myself, am little less than bewitched; for, instead
of receiving my accost with a gratifying bow, answering my regard with
a suppressed smile, accompanying my falling off or departure with a
slight sigh--honours with which I protest to you the noblest dancers
and proudest beauties in Feliciana have graced my poor services--she
hath paid me as little and as cold regard as if I had been some
hob-nailed clown of these bleak mountains! Nay, this very day, while I
was in the act of kneeling at her feet to render her the succours of
this pungent quintessence, of purest spirit distilled by the fairest
hands of the court of Feliciana, she pushed me from her with looks
which savoured of repugnance, and, as I think, thrust at me with her
foot as if to spurn me from her presence. These things, reverend
father, are strange, portentous, unnatural, and befall not in the
current of mortal affairs, but are symptomatic of sorcery and
fascination.  So that, having given to your reverence a perfect,
simple, and plain account of all that I know concerning this matter, I
leave it to your wisdom to solve what may be found soluble in the
same, it being my purpose to-morrow, with the peep of dawn, to set
forward towards Edinburgh."

"I grieve to be an interruption to your designs, Sir Knight," said the
monk, "but that purpose of thine may hardly be fulfilled."

"How, reverend father!" said the knight, with an air of the utmost
surprise; "if what you say respects my departure, understand that it
_must_ be, for I have so resolved it."

"Sir Knight," reiterated the Sub-Prior, "I must once more repeat, this
_cannot_ be, until the Abbot's pleasure be known in the matter."

"Reverend sir," said the knight, drawing himself up with great
dignity, "I desire my hearty and thankful commendations to the Abbot;
but in this matter I have nothing to do with his reverend pleasure,
designing only to consult my own."

"Pardon me," said the Sub-Prior; "the Lord Abbot hath in this matter
a voice potential."

Sir Piercie Shafton's colour began to rise--"I marvel," he said, "to
hear your reverence talk thus--What! will you, for the imagined death
of a rude, low-born frampler and wrangler, venture to impinge upon the
liberty of the kinsman of the house of Piercie?"

"Sir Knight," returned the Sub-Prior, civilly, "your high lineage and
your kindling anger will avail you nothing in this matter--You shall
not come here to seek a shelter, and then spill our blood as if it
were water."

"I tell you," said the knight, "once more, as I have told you already,
that there was no blood spilled but mine own!"

"That remains to be proved," replied the Sub-Prior; "we of the
community of Saint Mary's of Kennaquhair, use not to take fairy tales in
exchange for the lives of our liege vassals."

"We of the house of Piercie," answered Shafton, "brook neither threats
nor restraint--I say I will travel to-morrow, happen what may!"

"And I," answered the Sub-Prior, in the same tone of determination,
"say that I will break your journey, come what may!"

"Who shall gainsay me," said the knight, "if I make my way by force?"

"You will judge wisely to think ere you make such an attempt," answered
the monk, with composure; "there are men enough in the Halidome to
vindicate its rights over those who dare infringe them."

"My cousin of Northumberland will know how to revenge this usage to
a beloved kinsman so near to his blood," said the Englishman.

"The Lord Abbot will know how to protect the rights of his territory,
both with, the temporal and spiritual sword," said the monk. "Besides,
consider, were we to send you to your kinsman at Alnwick or Warkworth
to-morrow, he dare do nothing but transmit you in fetters to the Queen
of England. Bethink, Sir Knight, that you stand on slippery ground,
and will act most wisely in reconciling yourself to be a prisoner in
this place until the Abbot shall decide the matter. There are armed
men enow to countervail all your efforts at escape. Let patience and
resignation, therefore, arm you to a necessary submission."

So saying, he clapped his hands, and called aloud. Edward entered,
accompanied by two young men who had already joined him, and were well
armed.

"Edward," said the Sub-Prior, "you will supply the English Knight here
in this spence with suitable food and accommodation for the night,
treating him with as much kindness as if nothing had happened between
you. But you will place a sufficient guard, and look carefully that he
make not his escape. Should he attempt to break forth, resist him to
the death; but in no other case harm a hair of his head, as you shall
be answerable."

Edward Glendinning replied,--"That I may obey your commands, reverend
sir, I will not again offer myself to this person's presence; for
shame it were to me to break the peace of the Halidome, but not less
shame to leave my brother's death unavenged."

As he spoke, his lips grew livid, the blood forsook his cheek, and he
was about to leave the apartment, when the Sub-Prior recalled him and
said in a solemn tone,--"Edward, I have known you from infancy--I have
done what lay within my reach to be of use to you--I say nothing of
what you owe to me as the representative of your spiritual Superior--I
say nothing of the duty from the vassal to the Sub-Prior--But Father
Eustace expects from the pupil whom he has nurtured--he expects from
Edward Glendinning, that he will not by any deed of sudden violence,
however justified in his own mind by the provocation, break through
the respect due to public justice, or that which he has an especial
right to claim from him."

"Fear nothing, my reverend father, for so in an hundred senses may I
well term you," said the young man; "fear not, I would say, that I
will in any thing diminish the respect I owe to the venerable
community by whom we have so long been protected, far less that I will
do aught which can be personally less than respectful to you. But the
blood of my brother must not cry for vengeance in vain--your reverence
knows our Border creed."

"'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will requite it,'" answered
the monk. "The heathenish custom of deadly feud which prevails in this
land, through which each man seeks vengeance at his own hand when the
death of a friend or kinsman has chanced, hath already deluged our
vales with the blood of Scottish men, spilled by the hands of
countrymen and kindred. It were endless to count up the fatal results.
On the Eastern Border, the Homes are at feud with the Swintons and
Cockburns; in our Middle Marches, the Scotts and Kerrs have spilled as
much brave blood in domestic feud as might have fought a pitched field
in England, could they have but forgiven and forgotten a casual
rencounter that placed their names in opposition to each other. On the
west frontier, the Johnstones are at war with the Maxwells, the
Jardines with the Bells, drawing with them the flower of the country,
which should place their breasts as a bulwark against England, into
private and bloody warfare, of which it is the only end to waste and
impair the forces of the country, already divided in itself. Do not,
my dear son Edward, permit this bloody prejudice to master your mind.
I cannot ask you to think of the crime supposed as if the blood
spilled had been less dear to you--Alas! I know that is impossible.
But I do require you, in proportion to your interest in the supposed
sufferer, (for as yet the whole is matter of supposition,) to bear on
your mind the evidence on which the guilt of the accused person must
be tried. He hath spoken with me, and I confess his tale is so
extraordinary, that I should have, without a moment's hesitation,
rejected it as incredible, but that an affair which chanced to myself
in this very glen--More of that another time--Suffice it for the
present to say, that from what I have myself experienced, I deem it
possible, that, extraordinary as Sir Piercie Shafton's story may seem,
I hold it not utterly impossible."

"Father," said Edward Glendinning, when he saw that his preceptor
paused, unwilling farther to explain upon what grounds he was inclined
to give a certain degree of credit to Sir Piercie Shafton's story,
while he admitted it as improbable--"Father to me you have been in
every sense.  You know that my hand grasped more readily to the book
than to the sword; and that I lacked utterly the ready and bold spirit
which distinguished----" Here his voice faltered, and he paused for a
moment, and then went on with resolution and rapidity--"I would say,
that I was unequal to Halbert in promptitude of heart and of hand; but
Halbert is gone, and I stand his representative, and that of my
father--his successor in all his rights," (while he said this his eyes
shot fire,) "and bound to assert and maintain them as he would have
done--therefore I am a changed man, increased in courage as in my
rights and pretensions. And, reverend father, respectfully, but
plainly and firmly do I say, his blood, if it has been shed by this
man, shall be atoned--Halbert shall not sleep neglected in his lonely
grave, as if with him the spirit of my father had ceased forever. His
blood flows in my veins, and while his has been poured forth
unrequited, mine will permit me no rest. My poverty and meanness of
rank shall not avail the lordly murderer. My calm nature and peaceful
studies shall not be his protection.  Even the obligations, holy
father, which I acknowledge to you, shall not be his protection. I
wait with patience the judgment of the Abbot and Chapter, for the
slaughter of one of their most anciently descended vassals. If they do
right to my brother's memory, it is well. But mark me, father, if they
shall fail in rendering me that justice, I bear a heart and a hand
which, though I love not such extremities, are capable of remedying
such an error.  He who takes up my brother's succession must avenge
his death."