"I would have been his caution for a gray 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, nevertheless, 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 gray, and I have seldom known 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, "we are to be crowed over, every one of us, men
and women, cock and hen, by this little upstart?--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 commands you?"

"To speak the truth when my lady commands me," answered the prudential
major-domo, "is in some measure my duty, Mistress Lilias; always
providing for and excepting those cases in which it cannot be spoken
without breeding mischief and inconvenience to myself or my
fellow-servants; for the tongue of a tale-bearer breaketh bones as
well as Jeddart-staff." [Footnote: A species of battle-axe, so called
as being in especial use in that ancient burgh, whose armorial bearing
still represent an armed horseman brandishing such a weapon.]

"But this imp of Satan is none of your friends or fellow-servants,"
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 minutes 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 present
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 prevent her babbling, and an
air of prim mystical importance diffused over her whole person and
demeanour, which seemed to intimate, "I know something which I am
resolved not to tell you!"

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 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 misdemeanour-only, thank
God, there has been no bloodshed and murder 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
Graeme has dirked Adam Woodstock--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 may be, 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 Avenel, with a look of great
respect for his lady, partly real, partly affected, and an air of
great sagacity, which inferred no ordinary 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 Glendinning 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, [Footnote: Easter.] if some rule be not taken with this
youth--not but the youth is a fair youth," he added, correcting
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 gray 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 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 disposed, in plain terms, to
lay to the door of her indulgence all the disturbances which the fiery
temper of Roland Graeme 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, sith 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 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 sincere to him and
to his household. Yet let me say, that when 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 becomes a friend's part rather to aid than to rebuke me. I
would these evils were taken order with before my lord's return. He
loves not domestic discord or domestic brawls; and I would not
willingly that he thought such could arise from one whom I
favoured--What do you counsel me to do?"

"Dismiss this youth from your service, madam," replied the preacher.

"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 injudicious 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 maybe 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 intelligence, 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 merks by the year, and the
professor's cast-off suit, which he disparts with biennially."

"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 meanwhile, I trust to your remonstrances with this wild boy and
with the family, for restraining 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."

"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Warden. "On the next Thursday I
exhort the family, and will, with God's blessing, 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 bandogs."

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 over-estimated 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
importance, 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 exhortations; and
as the court-preacher often addressed the King individually, and
dictated to him the conduct he ought to observe 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. The sermon, by means of which Henry Warden
purposed 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, shooting with hand-gun, cross-bow, or long-bow,
thrusting with a lance, or doing any thing whatever by which death
might be occasioned to the adversary. In the same manner, he proved
satisfactorily, that the word sword comprehended all descriptions,
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 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 women, 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 stillet, which we have borrowed from the treacherous
Italian, or a dirk, which is borne by the savage Highlandman, 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 implements of deadly wrath, sudden to execute, and
difficult to be parried. Even the common sword-and-buckler brawler
despises 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 themselves 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 thunders at the head of the unpopular favourite,
and the weapon which they considered as a badge of affectation and
finery. Mrs. Lilias crested and drew up her head with all the
deep-felt pride of gratified resentment; while the steward, observing
a strict neutrality of aspect, fixed his eyes upon an old scutcheon 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 seeming 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
readiness 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 ungovernable,
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 Warden with one of those happier subjects for eloquence, of
which he knew how to take advantage for making a suitable impression
on his hearers. He paused for an instant, and then pronounced, 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 delivered himself to the wolf, because he could not
assume the quiet and humble conduct demanded of us by the great
Shepherd. 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 earthly honour?
Pride, and pride only--What our earthly gifts and graces? Pride and
vanity. Voyagers speak of Indian men who deck themselves with shells,
and anoint themselves 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 conscience is seared as with
a fire-brand, and your ears deafened like those of the adder, and your
heart hardened like the nether mill-stone. Up, then, and be
doing--wrestle and overcome; 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 disguise 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 exhortation to his
hearers to seek divine grace, which is perfected in human wakness.

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 humility. And, in fact, the expression of their
countenances much resembled the satisfied triumphant air of a set of
children, 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 because 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 protegГ© 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 character. 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 there fore 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
for which she herself was unable to account. He 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 indifferent 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 a view of ascertaining how far this might be
done, she caused him to be summoned to her presence.




Chapter the Fifth.


  --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.

It was some time ere Roland Graeme appeared. The messenger (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 demeanour of the culprit. But an oblong bit
of iron, ycleped a bolt, was passed across the door on the inside, and
prevented her benign intentions. Lilias knocked and called at
intervals. "Roland--Roland Graeme--_Master_ Roland Graeme" (an
emphasis on the word Master,) "will you be pleased to undo the
door?--What ails you?--are you at your prayers in private, 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 free
from the eyes of common folks!" Still no whisper was heard in reply.
"Well, master Roland," said the waiting-maid, "I must tell my
mistress, that if she would have an answer, she must either come
herself, or send those on errand to you who can beat the door down."

"What says your Lady?" answered 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."

"Say to my Lady, that I will directly wait on her," answered the page;
and returning into his 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 Graeme would wait on her when it suited his
convenience.

"What, is that his addition, or your own phrase, Lilias?" said the
Lady, coolly.

"Nay, madam," replied the attendant, not directly answering 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 Graeme entered the apartment with a loftier mien, and somewhat
a higher colour than his wont; there was embarrassment in his manner,
but it was neither that of fear nor of penitence.

"Young man," said the Lady, "what trow you I am to think of your
conduct this day?"

"If it has offended you, madam, I am deeply grieved," replied the
youth.

"To have offended me alone," replied the Lady, "were but little--You
have been guilty of conduct which will highly offend your master--of
violence to your fellow-servants, and of disrespect to God himself, in
the person of his ambassador."

"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 treating with scorn the unauthorized 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, arid then assuming
the dignity which was natural to her, she said, "Is it to me, Roland,
that you hold this language? Is it for the purpose 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 reduce you?"

"Lady," said the page, "I have forgot nothing, I remember but too
much. I know, that but for you, I should have perished 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?"

"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 regaled 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."

"And that," added Lilias, "would be best done by turning him out the
same beggar's brat that your ladyship took him in."

"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 descent, 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."

"Hear but his assurance!" said Lilias, "he upbraids my Lady with the
distresses of her family!"

"It had indeed been a theme more gratefully spared," said the Lady,
affected nevertheless with the allusion.

"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."

"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 malapert 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 restrained 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."

"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 support, 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--hypocrisy is a
poor cloak for ingratitude."

"I am incapable of either, madam," said the page, springing 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-considered 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 disturbing you with murmurs; and the respect with which
you accuse me of wanting, furnishes the only reason why I have neither
appealed to you, nor taken vengeance at my own hand in a manner 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 multiply 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."

"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 which I can never repay; put up then that
purse, and only say, instead, that you do not part from me in anger."

"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 mistress, 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 the Sixth.


  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 thy 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.

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 important 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.

"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 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 farther side of the
loch, 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, Mistress Lilias," answered the master of the household,
"in the which case, I am free to think, they will not long cumber the
floor."

"And now tell me, Master 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, Mistress 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 any thing. And for Roland Graeme, though he may be
a good riddance in the main, yet what says the very sooth proverb,
'Seldom comes a better.'"

"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."

"Mistress Lilias," said the sage steward, "I do opine that our
mistress requireth not this pity at your hands, being in all respects
competent to take care of her own body, soul, and estate into the
bargain."

"You would not mayhap have said so," answered the waiting-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 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 more 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 beggar's brat that a dog brought
her out of the loch."

"And, therefore," said the steward, "I say, rejoice not too much, or
too hastily, Mistress Lilias; for if your Lady wished a favourite to
pass away the time, depend upon it, the time will not pass lighter now
that he is gone. So she will have another 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 drunk her
drink, for so many years? I have known many a lady as high as she is,
that never thought either of a friend or favourite beyond their own
waiting-woman--always having a proper respect, at the same time, for
their old and faithful master of the household, Master Wingate."

"Truly, Mistress 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 Graeme 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 cunning
harper that could harp the heart out of woman's breast, as they say
Signer 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 Wingate, and
truly I would my master would leave off his picking hither and
thither, and look better after the affairs of his household. There
will be a papestrie 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, sagaciously
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, Mistress 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 whatever has
once borne the shape of them, one inch above my instep, were they
diamonds instead of gold.--But this is what has come of Father Ambrose
coming about the castle, as demure as a cat that is about to steal
cream."

"Father Ambrose is our master's brother," said the steward gravely.

"Very true, Master Wingate," answered the Dame; "but is that a good
reason why he should pervert the king's liege subjects to papistrie?"

"Heaven forbid, Mistress 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, "supposing that I saw
Satan standing at my elbow."

The waiting-woman started, and having exclaimed, "God bless us I"
added, "I wonder, Master Wingate, you can take pleasure in frightening
one thus."

"Nay, Mistress Lilias, I had no such purpose," was the reply; "but
look you here--the Papists are but put down for the present, 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 Northumberland and Westmoreland Earls, men of
power enough to shake any throne in Christendom. Then, though our
Scottish 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 Catholic; 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 go
pulpits, Geneva-gowns, and black silk skull-caps."

"And have you, Master Jasper Wingate, who have heard the word, and
listened unto pure and precious Mr. Henry Warden, 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 downcast 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 Master Wingate?"

"Mistress Lilias," replied the butler, with an air which was intended
to close the debate, "there are reasons for all things. If I received
Father Ambrose debonairly, and suffered him to steal a word now arid
then with this same Roland Graeme, it was not that I cared a brass
bodle 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
proved 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 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 so 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 was the better metal. Shame on you, Master Wingate! I
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 Graeme shooting the wild swan."

Master Wingate was somewhat dismayed at perceiving, that the details
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 apologize 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
disapprobation 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 explanation 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 rebuked by the more disinterested attachment of the
waiting-woman, and Mistress Lilias Bradbourne was compelled to
consider her old friend as something little better than a time-server.




Chapter the Seventh.


  When I hae a saxpence under my thumb,
  Then I get credit in ilka town;
  But when I am puir 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, without 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
generosity 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 approached 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 hollo 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?"

"Indeed," replied Roland Graeme, "I am not--I am now leaving the
service of Avenel for ever."

"And whither are you going, then?" said the young peasant.

"Nay, that is a question which it craves time to answer--I have that
matter to determine yet," replied the disgraced favourite.

"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 Graeme, "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 a 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----"