"Mother," said Roland Graeme, "I am no heretic; I believe and I pray
according to the rules of our church--This misfortune I regret, but I
cannot amend it."

"Thou canst repent it, though," replied his spiritual directress,
"repent it in dust and ashes, atone for it by fasting, prayer, and
penance, instead of looking on me with a countenance as light as if
thou hadst lost but a button from thy cap."

"Mother," said Roland, "be appeased; I will remember my fault in the
next confession which I have space and opportunity to make, and will
do whatever the priest may require of me in atonement. For the
heaviest fault I can do no more.--But, mother," he added, after a
moment's pause, "let me not incur your farther displeasure, if I ask
whither our journey is bound, and what is its object. I am no longer a
child, but a man, and at my own disposal, with down upon my chin, and
a sword by my side--I will go to the end of the world with you to do
your pleasure; but I owe it to myself to inquire the purpose and
direction of our travels."

"You owe it to yourself, ungrateful boy?" replied his relative,
passion rapidly supplying the colour which age had long chased from
her features,--"to yourself you owe nothing--you can owe nothing--to
me you owe every thing--your life when an infant--your support while a
child--the means of instruction, and the hopes of honour--and, sooner
than thou shouldst abandon the noble cause to which I have devoted
thee, would I see thee lie a corpse at my feet!"

Roland was alarmed at the vehement agitation with which she spoke, and
which threatened to overpower her aged frame; and he hastened to
reply,--"I forget nothing of what I owe to you, my dearest
mother--show me how my blood can testify my gratitude, and you shall
judge if I spare it. But blindfold obedience has in it as little
merit as reason."

"Saints and angels!" replied Magdalen, "and do I hear these words from
the child of my hopes, the nursling by whose bed I have kneeled, and
for whose weal I have wearied every saint in heaven with prayers?
Roland, by obedience only canst thou show thy affection and thy
gratitude. What avails it that you might perchance adopt the course I
propose to thee, were it to be fully explained? Thou wouldst not then
follow my command, but thine own judgment; thou wouldst not do the
will of Heaven, communicated through thy best friend, to whom thou
owest thine all; but thou wouldst observe the blinded dictates of
thine own imperfect reason. Hear me, Roland! a lot calls
thee--solicits thee--demands thee--the proudest to which man can be
destined, and it uses the voice of thine earliest, thy best, thine
only friend--Wilt thou resist it? Then go thy way--leave me here--my
hopes on earth are gone and withered--I will kneel me down before
yonder profaned altar, and when the raging heretics return, they shall
dye it with the blood of a martyr."

"But, my dearest mother," said Roland Graeme, whose early
recollections of her violence were formidably renewed by these wild
expressions of reckless passion, "I will not forsake you--I will abide
with you--worlds shall not force me from your side--I will protect--I
will defend you--I will live with you, and die for you!"

"One word, my son, were worth all these--say only, 'I will obey you.'"

"Doubt it not, mother," replied the youth, "I will, and that with all
my heart; only----"

"Nay, I receive no qualifications of thy promise," said Magdalen
Graeme, catching at the word, "the obedience which I require is
absolute; and a blessing on thee, thou darling memory of my beloved
child, that thou hast power to make a promise so hard to human pride!
Trust me well, that in the design in which thou dost embark, thou hast
for thy partners the mighty and the valiant, the power of the church,
and the pride of the noble. Succeed or fail, live or die, thy name
shall be among those with whom success or failure is alike glorious,
death or life alike desirable. Forward, then, forward! life is short,
and our plan is laborious--Angels, saints, and the whole blessed host
of heaven, have their eyes even now on this barren and blighted land
of Scotland--What say I? on Scotland? their eye is on _us_,
Roland--on the frail woman, on the inexperienced youth, who, amidst
the ruins which sacrilege hath made in the holy place, devote
themselves to God's cause, and that of their lawful Sovereign. Amen,
so be it! The blessed eyes of saints and martyrs, which see our
resolve, shall witness the execution; or their ears, which hear our
vow, shall hear our death-groan, drawn in the sacred cause!"

While thus speaking, she held Roland Graeme firmly with one hand,
while she pointed upward with the other, to leave him, as it were, no
means of protest against the obtestation to which he was thus made a
party. When she had finished her appeal to Heaven, she left him no
leisure for farther hesitation, or for asking any explanation of her
purpose; but passing with the same ready transition as formerly, to
the solicitous attentions of an anxious parent, overwhelmed him with
questions concerning his residence in the Castle of Avenel, and the
qualities and accomplishments he had acquired.

"It is well," she said, when she had exhausted her inquiries, "my gay
goss-hawk

[Footnote: The comparison is taken from some beautiful verses in an
old ballad, entitled Fause Foodrage, published in the "Minstrelsy of
the Scottish Border." A deposed queen, to preserve her infant son from
the traitors who have slain his father, exchanges him with the female
offspring of a faithful friend, and goes on to direct the education of
the children, and the private signals by which the parents are to hear
news each of her own offspring.

 "And you shall learn my gay goss-hawk
  Right well to breast a steed;
  And so will I your turtle dow,
  As well to write and read.

  And ye shall learn my gay goss-hawk
  To wield both bow and brand;
  And so will I your turtle dow,
  To lay gowd with her hand.

  At kirk or market when we meet,
  We'll dare make no avow,
  But, 'Dame, how does my gay goss-hawk?'
  'Madame, how does my dow?'" ]

hath been well trained, and will soar high; but those who bred him
will have cause to fear as well as to wonder at his flight.--Let us
now," she said, "to our morning meal, and care not though it be a
scanty one. A few hours' walk will bring us to more friendly
quarters."

They broke their fast accordingly, on such fragments as remained of
their yesterday's provision, and immediately set out on their farther
journey. Magdalen Graeme led the way, with a firm and active step
much beyond her years, and Roland Graeme followed, pensive and
anxious, and far from satisfied with the state of dependence to which
he seemed again to be reduced.

"Am I for ever," he said to himself, "to be devoured with the desire
of independence and free agency, and yet to be for ever led on, by
circumstances, to follow the will of others?"




Chapter the Tenth.


  She dwelt unnoticed and alone,
    Beside the springs of Dove:
  A maid whom there was none to praise,
    And very few to love.
                        WORDSWORTH.

In the course of their journey the travellers spoke little to each
other. Magdalen Graeme chanted, from time to time, in a low voice, a
part of some one of those beautiful old Latin hymns which belong to
the Catholic service, muttered an Ave or a Credo, and so passed on,
lost in devotional contemplation. The meditations of her grandson were
more bent on mundane matters; and many a time, as a moor-fowl arose
from the heath, and shot along the moor, uttering his bold crow of
defiance, he thought of the jolly Adam Woodcock, and his trusty
goss-hawk; or, as they passed a thicket where the low trees and bushes
were intermingled with tall fern, furze, and broom, so as to form a
thick and intricate cover, his dreams were of a roebuck and a brace of
gaze-hounds. But frequently his mind returned to the benevolent and
kind mistress whom he had left behind him, offended justly, and
unreconciled by any effort of his.

"My step would be lighter," he thought, "and so would my heart, could
I but have returned to see her for one instant, and to say, Lady, the
orphan boy was wild, but not ungrateful!"

Travelling in these divers moods, about the hour of noon they reached
a small straggling village, in which, as usual, were seen one or two
of those predominating towers, or peel houses, which, for reasons of
defence elsewhere detailed, were at that time to be found in every
Border hamlet. A brook flowed beside the village, and watered the
valley in which it stood. There was also a mansion at the end of the
village, and a little way separated from it, much dilapidated, and in
very bad order, but appearing to have been the abode of persons of
some consideration. The situation was agreeable, being an angle formed
by the stream, bearing three or four large sycamore trees, which were
in full leaf, and served to relieve the dark appearance of the
mansion, which was built of a deep red stone. The house itself was a
large one, but was now obviously too big for the inmates; several
windows were built up, especially those which opened from the lower
story; others were blockaded in a less substantial manner. The court
before the door, which had once been defended with a species of low
outer-wall, now ruinous, was paved, but the stones were completely
covered with long gray nettles, thistles, and other weeds, which,
shooting up betwixt the flags, had displaced many of them from their
level. Even matters demanding more peremptory attention had been left
neglected, in a manner which argued sloth or poverty in the extreme.
The stream, undermining a part of the bank near an angle of the
ruinous wall, had brought it down, with a corner turret, the ruins of
which lay in the bed of the river. The current, interrupted by the
ruins which it had overthrown, and turned yet nearer to the site of
the tower, had greatly enlarged the breach it had made, and was in the
process of undermining the ground on which the house itself stood,
unless it were speedily protected by sufficient bulwarks.

All this attracted Roland Graeme's observation, as they approached the
dwelling by a winding path, which gave them, at intervals, a view of
it from different points.

"If we go to yonder house," he said to his mother, "I trust it is but
for a short visit. It looks as if two rainy days from the north-west
would send the whole into the brook."

"You see but with the eyes of the body," said the old woman; "God will
defend his own, though it be forsaken and despised of men. Better to
dwell on the sand, under his law, than fly to the rock of human
trust."

As she thus spoke, they entered the court before the old mansion, and
Roland could observe that the front of it had formerly been
considerably ornamented with carved work, in the same dark-coloured
freestone of which it was built. But all these ornaments had been
broken down and destroyed, and only the shattered vestiges of niches
and entablatures now strewed the place which they had once occupied.
The larger entrance in front was walled up, but a little footpath,
which, from its appearance, seemed to be rarely trodden, led to a
small wicket, defended by a door well clenched with iron-headed nails,
at which Magdalen Graeme knocked three times, pausing betwixt each
knock, until she heard an answering tap from within. At the last
knock, the wicket was opened by a pale thin female, who said,
"_Benedicti qui venient in nomine Domini_." They entered, and the
portress hastily shut behind them the wicket, and made fast the
massive fastenings by which it was secured.

The female led the way through a narrow entrance, into a vestibule of
some extent, paved with stone, and having benches of the same solid
material ranged around. At the upper end was an oriel window, but some
of the intervals formed by the stone shafts and mullions were blocked
up, so that the apartment was very gloomy.

Here they stopped, and the mistress of the mansion, for such she was,
embraced Magdalen Graeme, and greeting her by the title of sister,
kissed her with much solemnity, on either side of the face.

"The blessing of Our Lady be upon you, my sister," were her next
words; and they left no doubt upon Roland's mind respecting the
religion of their hostess, even if he could have suspected his
venerable and zealous guide of resting elsewhere than in the
habitation of an orthodox Catholic. They spoke together a few words
in private, during which he had leisure to remark more particularly
the appearance of his grandmother's friend.

Her age might be betwixt fifty and sixty; her looks had a mixture of
melancholy and unhappiness that bordered on discontent, and obscured
the remains of beauty which age had still left on her features. Her
dress was of the plainest and most ordinary description, of a dark
colour, and, like Magdalen Graeme's, something approaching to a
religious habit. Strict neatness and cleanliness of person, seemed to
intimate, that if poor, she was not reduced to squalid or heart-broken
distress, and that she was still sufficiently attached to life to
retain a taste for its decencies, if not its elegancies. Her manner,
as well as her features and appearance, argued an original condition
and education far above the meanness of her present appearance. In
short, the whole figure was such as to excite the idea, "That female
must have had a history worth knowing." While Roland Graeme was making
this very reflection, the whispers of the two females ceased, and the
mistress of the mansion, approaching him, looked on his face and
person with much attention, and, as it seemed, some interest.

"This, then," she said, addressing his relative, "is the child of
thine unhappy daughter, sister Magdalen; and him, the only shoot from
your ancient tree, you are willing to devote to the Good Cause?"

"Yes, by the rood," answered Magdalen Graeme, in her usual tone of
resolved determination, "to the good cause I devote him, flesh and
fell, sinew and limb, body and soul."

"Thou art a happy woman, sister Magdalen," answered her companion,
"that, lifted so high above human affection and human feeling, thou
canst bind such a victim to the horns of the altar. Had I been called
to make such a sacrifice--to plunge a youth so young and fair into the
plots and bloodthirsty dealings of the time, not the patriarch
Abraham, when he led Isaac up the mountain, would have rendered more
melancholy obedience."

She then continued to look at Roland with a mournful aspect of
compassion, until the intentness of her gaze occasioned his colour to
rise, and he was about to move out of its influence, when he was
stopped by his grand-mother with one hand, while with the other she
divided the hair upon his forehead, which was now crimson with
bashfulness, while she added, with a mixture of proud affection and
firm resolution,--"Ay, look at him well, my sister, for on a fairer
face thine eye never rested. I too, when I first saw him, after a long
separation, felt as the worldly feel, and was half shaken in my
purpose. But no wind can tear a leaf from the withered tree which has
long been stripped of its foliage, and no mere human casualty can
awaken the mortal feelings which have long slept in the calm of
devotion."

While the old woman thus spoke, her manner gave the lie to her
assertions, for the tears rose to her eyes while she added, "But the
fairer and the more spotless the victim, is it not, my sister, the
more worthy of acceptance?"

She seemed glad to escape from the sensations which agitated her, and
instantly added, "He will escape, my sister--there will be a ram
caught in the thicket, and the hand of our revolted brethren shall not
be on the youthfull Joseph. Heaven can defend its own rights, even by
means of babes and sucklings, of women and beardless boys."

"Heaven hath left us," said the other female; "for our sins and our
fathers' the succours of the blessed Saints have abandoned this
accursed land. We may win the crown of Martyrdom, but not that of
earthly triumph. One, too, whose prudence was at this deep crisis so
indispensable, has been called to a better world. The Abbot Eustatius
is no more."

"May his soul have mercy!" said Magdalen Graeme, "and may Heaven, too,
have mercy upon us, who linger behind in this bloody land! His loss is
indeed a perilous blow to our enterprise; for who remains behind
possessing his far-fetched experience, his self-devoted zeal, his
consummate wisdom, and his undaunted courage! He hath fallen with the
church's standard in his hand, but God will raise up another to lift
the blessed banner. Whom have the Chapter elected in his room?"

"It is rumoured no one of the few remaining brethren dare accept the
office. The heretics have sworn that they will permit no future
election, and will heavily punish any attempt to create a new Abbot of
Saint Mary's. _Conjuraverunt inter se principes, dicentes,
Projiciamus laqueos ejus_."

"_Quousque, Domine!_"--ejaculated Magdalen; "this, my sister,
were indeed a perilous and fatal breach in our band; but I am firm in
my belief, that another will arise in the place of him so untimely
removed. Where is thy daughter Catharine?"

"In the parlour," answered the matron, "but"--She looked at Roland
Graeme, and muttered something in the ear of her friend.

"Fear it not," answered Magdalen Graeme, "it is both lawful and
necessary--fear nothing from him--I would he were as well grounded in
the faith by which alone comes safety, as he is free from thought,
deed, or speech of villany. Therein is the heretics' discipline to be
commended, my sister, that they train up their youth in strong
morality, and choke up every inlet to youthful folly."

"It is but a cleansing the outside of the cup," answered her friend,
"a whitening of the sepulchre; but he shall see Catharine, since you,
sister, judge it safe and meet.--Follow us, youth," she added, and led
the way from the apartment--with her friend. These were the only words
which the matron had addressed to Roland Graeme, who obeyed them in
silence. As they paced through several winding passages and waste
apartments with a very slow step, the young page had leisure to make
some reflections on his situation,--reflections of a nature which his
ardent temper considered as specially disagreeable. It seemed he had
now got two mistresses, or tutoresses, instead of one, both elderly
women, and both, it would seem, in league to direct his motions
according to their own pleasure, and for the accomplishment of plans
to which he was no party. This, he thought, was too much; arguing
reasonably enough, that whatever right his grandmother and
benefactress had to guide his motions, she was neither entitled to
transfer her authority or divide it with another, who seemed to
assume, without ceremony, the same tone of absolute command over him.

"But it shall not long continue thus," thought Roland; "I will not be
all my life the slave of a woman's whistle, to go when she bids, and
come when she calls. No, by Saint Andrew! the hand that can hold the
lance is above the control of the distaff. I will leave them the
slipp'd collar in their hands on the first opportunity, and let them
execute their own devices by their own proper force. It may save them
both from peril, for I guess what they meditate is not likely to prove
either safe or easy--the Earl of Murray and his heresy are too well
rooted to be grubbed up by two old women."

As he thus resolved, they entered a low room, in which a third female
was seated. This apartment was the first he had observed in the
mansion which was furnished with moveable seats, and with a wooden
table, over which was laid a piece of tapestry. A carpet was spread on
the floor, there was a grate in the chimney, and, in brief, the
apartment had the air of being habitable and inhabited.

But Roland's eyes found better employment than to make observations on
the accommodations of the chamber; for this second female inhabitant
of the mansion seemed something very different from any thing he had
yet seen there. At his first entry, she had greeted with a silent and
low obeisance the two aged matrons, then glancing her eyes towards
Roland, she adjusted a veil which hung back over her shoulders, so as
to bring it over her face; an operation which she performed with much
modesty, but without either affected haste or embarrassed timidity.

During this manoeuvre Roland had time to observe, that the face was
that of a girl apparently not much past sixteen, and that the eyes
were at once soft and brilliant. To these very favourable observations
was added the certainty that the fair object to whom they referred
possessed an excellent shape, bordering perhaps on _enbonpoint_,
and therefore rather that of a Hebe than of a Sylph, but beautifully
formed, and shown to great advantage by the close jacket and petticoat
which she wore after a foreign fashion, the last not quite long enough
to conceal a very pretty foot, which rested on a bar of the table at
which she sate; her round arms and taper fingers very busily employed
in repairing--the piece of tapestry which was spread on it, which
exhibited several deplorable fissures, enough to demand the utmost
skill of the most expert seamstress.

It is to be remarked, that it was by stolen glances that Roland Graeme
contrived to ascertain these interesting particulars; and he thought
he could once or twice, notwithstanding the texture of the veil,
detect the damsel in the act of taking similar cognizance of his own
person. The matrons in the meanwhile continued their separate
conversation, eyeing from time to time the young people, in a manner
which left Roland in no doubt that they were the subject of their
conversation. At length he distinctly heard Magdalen Graeme say these
words--"Nay, my sister, we must give them opportunity to speak
together, and to become acquainted; they must be personally known to
each other, or how shall they be able to execute what they are
intrusted with?"

It seemed as if the matron, not fully satisfied with her friend's
reasoning, continued to offer some objections; but they were borne
down by her more dictatorial friend.

"It must be so," she said, "my dear sister; let us therefore go forth
on the balcony, to finish our conversation.--And do you," she said,
addressing Roland and the girl, "become acquainted with each other."

With this she stepped up to the young woman, and raising her veil,
discovered features which, whatever might be their ordinary
complexion, were now covered with a universal blush.

"_Licitum sit,_" said Magdalen, looking at the other matron.

"_Vix licitum,_" replied the other, with reluctant and hesitating
acquiescence; and again adjusting the veil of the blushing girl, she
dropped it so as to shade, though not to conceal her countenance, and
whispered to her, in a tone loud enough for the page to hear,
"Remember, Catharine, who thou art, and for what destined."

The matron then retreated with Magdalen Graeme through one of the
casements of the apartment, that opened on a large broad balcony,
which, with its ponderous balustrade, had once run along the whole
south front of the building which faced the brook, and formed a
pleasant and commodious walk in the open air. It was now in some
places deprived of the balustrade, in others broken and narrowed; but,
ruinous as it was, could still be used as a pleasant promenade. Here
then walked the two ancient dames, busied in their private
conversation; yet not so much so, but that Roland could observe the
matrons, as their thin forms darkened the casement in passing or
repassing before it, dart a glance into the apartment, to see how
matters were going on there.




Chapter the Eleventh.


  Life hath its May, and is mirthful then:
  The woods are vocal, and the flowers all odour;
  Its very blast has mirth in't,--and the maidens,
  The while they don their cloaks to screen their kirtles,
  Laugh at the rain that wets them.
                             OLD PLAY.

Catherine was at the happy age of innocence and buoyancy of spirit,
when, after the first moment of embarrassment was over, a situation of
awkwardness, like that in which she was suddenly left to make
acquaintance with a handsome youth, not even known to her by name,
struck her, in spite of herself, in a ludicrous point of view. She
bent her beautiful eyes upon the work with which she was busied, and
with infinite gravity sate out the two first turns of the matrons upon
the balcony; but then, glancing her deep blue eye a little towards
Roland, and observing the embarrassment under which he laboured, now
shifting on his chair, and now dangling his cap, the whole man
evincing that he was perfectly at a loss how to open the conversation,
she could keep her composure no longer, but after a vain struggle
broke out into a sincere, though a very involuntary fit of laughing,
so richly accompanied by the laughter of her merry eyes, which
actually glanced through the tears which the effort filled them with,
and by the waving of her rich tresses, that the goddess of smiles
herself never looked more lovely than Catherine at that moment. A
court page would not have left her long alone in her mirth; but Roland
was country-bred, and, besides, having some jealousy as well as
bashfulness, he took it into his head that he was himself the object
of her inextinguishable laughter. His endeavours to sympathize with
Catherine, therefore, could carry him no farther than a forced giggle,
which had more of displeasure than of mirth in it, and which so much
enhanced that of the girl, that it seemed to render it impossible for
her ever to bring her laughter to an end, with whatever anxious pains
she laboured to do so. For every one has felt, that when a paroxysm of
laughter has seized him at a misbecoming time and place, the efforts
which he made to suppress it, nay, the very sense of the impropriety
of giving way to it, tend only to augment and prolong the irresistible
impulse.

It was undoubtedly lucky for Catherine, as well as for Roland, that
the latter did not share in the excessive mirth of the former. For,
seated as she was, with her back to the casement, Catherine could
easily escape the observation of the two matrons during the course of
their promenade; whereas Graeme was so placed, with his side to the
window, that his mirth, had he shared that of his companion, would
have been instantly visible, and could not have failed to give offence
to the personages in question. He sate, however, with some impatience,
until Catherine had exhausted either her power or her desire of
laughing, and was returning with good grace to the exercise of her
needle, and then he observed with some dryness, that "there seemed no
great occasion to recommend to them to improve their acquaintance, as
it seemed, that they were already tolerably familiar."

Catherine had an extreme desire to set off upon a fresh score, but she
repressed it strongly, and fixing her eyes on her work, replied by
asking his pardon, and promising to avoid future offence.

Roland had sense enough to feel, that an air of offended dignity was
very much misplaced, and that it was with a very different bearing he
ought to meet the deep blue eyes which had borne such a hearty burden
in the laughing scene. He tried, therefore, to extricate himself as
well as he could from his blunder, by assuming a tone of correspondent
gaiety, and requesting to know of the nymph, "how it was her pleasure
that they should proceed in improving the acquaintance which had
commenced so merrily."

"That," she said, "you must yourself discover; perhaps I have gone a
step too far in opening our interview."

"Suppose," said Roland Graeme, "we should begin as in a tale-book, by
asking each other's names and histories?"

"It is right well imagined," said Catherine, "and shows an argute
judgment. Do you begin, and I will listen, and only put in a question
or two at the dark parts of the story. Come, unfold then your name and
history, my new acquaintance."

"I am called Roland Graeme, and that tall woman is my grandmother."

"And your tutoress?--good. Who are your parents?"

"They are both dead," replied Roland.

"Ay, but who were they? you _had_ parents, I presume?"

"I suppose so," said Roland, "but I have never been able to learn much
of their history. My father was a Scottish knight, who died gallantly
in his stirrups--my mother was a Graeme of Hathergill, in the
Debateable Land--most of her family were killed when the Debateable
country was burned by Lord Maxwell and Herries of Caerlaverock."

"Is it long ago?" said the damsel.

"Before I was born," answered the page.

"That must be a great while since," said she, shaking her head
gravely; "look you, I cannot weep for them."

"It needs not," said the youth, "they fell with honour."

"So much for your lineage, fair sir," replied his companion, "of whom
I like the living specimen (a glance at the casement) far less than
those that are dead. Your much honoured grandmother looks as if she
could make one weep in sad earnest. And now, fair sir, for your own
person--if you tell not the tale faster, it will be cut short in the
middle; Mother Bridget pauses longer and longer every time she passes
the window, and with her there is as little mirth as in the grave of
your ancestors."

"My tale is soon told--I was introduced into the castle of Avenel to
be page to the lady of the mansion."

"She is a strict Huguenot, is she not?" said the maiden.

"As strict as Calvin himself. But my grandmother can play the puritan
when it suits her purpose, and she had some plan of her own, for
quartering me in the Castle--it would have failed, however, after we
had remained several weeks at the hamlet, but for an unexpected master
of ceremonies--"

"And who was that?" said the girl.

"A large black dog, Wolf by name, who brought me into the castle one
day in his mouth, like a hurt wild-duck, and presented me to the
lady."

"A most respectable introduction, truly," said Catherine; "and what
might you learn at this same castle? I love dearly to know what my
acquaintances can do at need."

"To fly a hawk, hollow to a hound, back a horse, and wield lance, bow,
and brand."

"And to boast of all this when you have learned it," said Catherine,
"which, in France at least, is the surest accomplishment of a page.
But proceed, fair sir; how came your Huguenot lord and your no less
Huguenot lady to receive and keep in the family so perilous a person
as a Catholic page?"

"Because they knew not that part of my history, which from infancy I
have been taught to keep secret--and because my grand-dame's former
zealous attendance on their heretic chaplain, had laid all this
suspicion to sleep, most fair Callipolis," said the page; and in so
saying, he edged his chair towards the seat of the fair querist.

"Nay, but keep your distance, most gallant sir," answered the
blue-eyed maiden, "for, unless I greatly mistake, these reverend
ladies will soon interrupt our amicable conference, if the
acquaintance they recommend shall seem to proceed beyond a certain
point--so, fair sir, be pleased to abide by your station, and reply to
my questions.--By what achievements did you prove the qualities of a
page, which you had thus happily acquired?"

Roland, who began to enter into the tone and spirit of the damsel's
conversation, replied to her with becoming spirit.

"In no feat, fair gentlewoman, was I found inexpert, wherein there was
mischief implied. I shot swans, hunted cats, frightened serving-women,
chased the deer, and robbed the orchard. I say nothing of tormenting
the chaplain in various ways, for that was my duty as a good
Catholic."

"Now, as I am a gentlewoman," said Catherine, "I think these heretics
have done Catholic penance in entertaining so all-accomplished a
serving-man! And what, fair sir, might have been the unhappy event
which deprived them of an inmate altogether so estimable?"

"Truly, fair gentlewoman," answered the youth, "your real proverb says
that the longest lane will have a turning, and mine was more--it was,
in fine, a turning off."

"Good!" said the merry young maiden, "it is an apt play on the word
--and what occasion was taken for so important a catastrophe?--Nay,
start not for my learning, I do know the schools--in plain phrase, why
were you sent from service?"

The page shrugged his shoulders while he replied,--"A short tale is
soon told--and a short horse soon curried. I made the falconer's boy
taste of my switch--the falconer threatened to make me brook his
cudgel--he is a kindly clown as well as a stout, and I would rather
have been cudgelled by him than any man in Christendom to choose--but
I knew not his qualities at that time--so I threatened to make him
brook the stab, and my Lady made me brook the 'Begone;' so adieu to
the page's office and the fair Castle of Avenel--I had not travelled
far before I met my venerable parent--And so tell your tale, fair
gentlewoman, for mine is done."

"A happy grandmother," said the maiden, "who had the luck to find the
stray page just when his mistress had slipped his leash, and a most
lucky page that has jumped at once from a page to an old lady's
gentleman-usher!"

"All this is nothing of your history," answered Roland Graeme, began to
be much interested in the congenial vivacity of this facetious young
gentlewoman,--" tale for tale is fellow-traveller's justice."

"Wait till we are fellow-travellers, then," replied Catherine.

"Nay, you escape me not so," said the page; "if you deal not justly by
me, I will call out to Dame Bridget, or whatever your dame be called,
and proclaim you for a cheat."

"You shall not need," answered the maiden--"my history is the
counterpart of your own; the same words might almost serve, change but
dress and name. I am called Catherine Seyton, and I also am an
orphan."

"Have your parents been long dead?"

"This is the only question," said she, throwing down her fine eyes
with a sudden expression of sorrow, "that is the only question I
cannot laugh at."

"And Dame Bridget is your grandmother?"

The sudden cloud passed away like that which crosses for an instant
the summer sun, and she answered with her usual lively expression,
"Worse by twenty degrees--Dame Bridget is my maiden aunt."

"Over gods forbode!" said Roland--"Alas! that you have such a tale to
tell! and what horror comes next?"

"Your own history, exactly. I was taken upon trial for service--"

"And turned off for pinching the duenna, or affronting my lady's
waiting-woman?"

"Nay, our history varies there," said the damsel--"Our mistress broke
up house, or had her house broke up, which is the same thing, and I am
a free woman of the forest."

"And I am as glad of it as if any one had lined my doublet with cloth
of gold," said the youth.

"I thank you for your mirth," said she, "but the matter is not likely
to concern you."

"Nay, but go on," said the page, "for you will be presently
interrupted; the two good dames have been soaring yonder on the
balcony, like two old hooded crows, and their croak grows hoarser as
night comes on; they will wing to roost presently.--This mistress of
yours, fair gentlewoman, who was she, in God's name?"

"Oh, she has a fair name in the world," replied Catherine Seyton. "Few
ladies kept a fairer house, or held more gentlewomen in her household;
my aunt Bridget was one of her housekeepers. We never saw our
mistress's blessed face, to be sure, but we heard enough of her; were
up early and down late, and were kept to long prayers and light food."

"Out upon the penurious old beldam!" said the page.

"For Heaven's sake, blaspheme not!" said the girl, with an expression
of fear.--"God pardon us both! I meant no harm. I speak of our blessed
Saint Catherine of Sienna!--may God forgive me that I spoke so
lightly, and made you do a great sin and a great blasphemy. This was
her nunnery, in which there were twelve nuns and an abbess. My aunt
was the abbess, till the heretics turned all adrift."

"And where are your companions?" asked the youth.

"With the last year's snow," answered the maiden; "east, north, south,
and west--some to France, some to Flanders, some, I fear, into the
world and its pleasures. We have got permission to remain, or rather
our remaining has been connived at, for my aunt has great relations
among the Kerrs, and they have threatened a death-feud if any one
touches us; and bow and spear are the best warrant in these times."

"Nay, then, you sit under a sure shadow," said the youth; "and I
suppose you wept yourself blind when Saint Catherine broke up
housekeeping before you had taken arles [Footnote: _Anglice_--
Earnest-money] in her service?"

"Hush! for Heaven's sake," said the damsel, crossing herself; "no more
of that! but I have not quite cried my eyes out," said she, turning
them upon him, and instantly again bending them upon her work. It was
one of those glances which would require the threefold plate of brass
around the heart, more than it is needed by the mariners, to whom
Horace recommends it. Our youthful page had no defence whatever to
offer.

"What say you, Catherine," he said, "if we two, thus strangely turned
out of service at the same time, should give our two most venerable
duennas the torch to hold, while we walk a merry measure with each
other over the floor of this weary world?"

"A goodly proposal, truly," said Catherine, "and worthy the mad-cap
brain of a discarded page!--And what shifts does your worship propose
we should live by?--by singing ballads, cutting purses, or swaggering
on the highway? for there, I think, you would find your most
productive exchequer."

"Choose, you proud peat!" said the page, drawing off in huge disdain
at the calm and unembarrassed ridicule with which his wild proposal
was received. And as he spoke the words, the casement was again
darkened by the forms of the matrons--it opened, and admitted Magdalen
Graeme and the Mother Abbess, so we must now style her, into the
apartment.




Chapter the Twelfth.


  Nay, hear me, brother--I am elder, wiser,
  And holier than thou--And age, and wisdom,
  And holiness, have peremptory claims,
  And will be listen'd to.
                              OLD PLAY.

When the matrons re-entered, and put an end to the conversation--which
we have detailed in the last chapter, Dame Magdalen Graeme thus
addressed her grandson and his pretty companion: "Have you spoke
together, my children?--Have you become known to each other as
fellow-travellers on the same dark and dubious road, whom chance hath
brought together, and who study to learn the tempers and dispositions
of those by whom their perils are to be shared?"

It was seldom the light-hearted Catharine could suppress a jest, so
that she often spoke when she would have acted more wisely in holding
her peace.

"Your grandson admires the journey which you propose so very greatly,
that he was even now preparing for setting out upon it instantly."

"This is to be too forward, Roland," said the dame, addressing him,
"as yesterday you were over slack--the just mean lies in obedience,
which both waits for the signal to start, and obeys it when
given.--But once again, my children, have you so perused each other's
countenances, that when you meet, in whatever disguise the times may
impose upon you, you may recognize each in the other the secret agent
of the mighty work in which you are to be leagued?--Look at each
other, know each line and lineament of each other's countenance. Learn
to distinguish by the step, by the sound of the voice, by the motion
of the hand, by the glance of the eye, the partner whom Heaven hath
sent to aid in working its will.--Wilt thou know that maiden,
whensoever, or wheresoever you shall again meet her, my Roland
Graeme?"

As readily as truly did Roland answer in the affirmative. "And thou,
my daughter, wilt thou again remember the features of this youth?"

"Truly, mother," replied Catherine Seyton, "I have not seen so many
men of late, that I should immediately forget your grandson, though I
mark not much about him that is deserving of especial remembrance."

"Join hands, then, my children," said Magdalen Graeme; but, in saying
so, was interrupted by her companion, whose conventual prejudices had
been gradually giving her more and more uneasiness, and who could
remain acquiescent no longer.

"Nay, my good sister, you forget," said she to Magdalen, "Catharine is
the betrothed bride of Heaven--these intimacies cannot be."

"It is in the cause of Heaven that I command them to embrace," said
Magdalen, with the full force of her powerful voice; "the end, sister,
sanctifies the means we must use."

"They call me Lady Abbess, or Mother at the least, who address me,"
said Dame Bridget, drawing herself up, as if offended at her friend's
authoritative manner--"the Lady of Heathergill forgets that she speaks
to the Abbess of Saint Catherine."

"When I was what you call me," said Magdalen, "you indeed were the
Abbess of Saint Catherine, but both names are now gone, with all the
rank that the world and that the church gave to them; and we are now,
to the eye of human judgment, two poor, despised, oppressed women,
dragging our dishonoured old age to a humble grave. But what are we in
the eye of Heaven?--Ministers, sent forth to work his will,--in whose
weakness the strength of the church shall be manifested-before whom
shall be humbled the wisdom of Murray, and the dark strength of
Morton,--And to such wouldst thou apply the narrow rules of thy
cloistered seclusion?--or, hast thou forgotten the order which I
showed thee from thy Superior, subjecting thee to me in these
matters?"

"On thy head, then, be the scandal and the sin," said the Abbess,
sullenly.

"On mine be they both," said Magdalen. "I say, embrace each other,
my children."

But Catherine, aware, perhaps, how the dispute was likely to
terminate, had escaped from the apartment, and so disappointed the
grandson, at least as much as the old matron.

"She is gone," said the Abbess, "to provide some little refreshment.
But it will have little savour to those who dwell in the world; for I,
at least, cannot dispense with the rules to which I am vowed, because
it is the will of wicked men to break down the sanctuary in which they
wont to be observed."

"It is well, my sister," replied Magdalen, "to pay each even the
smallest tithes of mint and cummin which the church demands, and I
blame not thy scrupulous observance of the rules of thine order. But
they were established by the church, and for the church's benefit; and
reason it is that they should give way when the salvation of the
church herself is at stake."

The Abbess made no reply.

One more acquainted with human nature than the inexperienced page,
might have found amusement in comparing the different kinds of
fanaticisms which these two females exhibited. The Abbess, timid,
narrowminded, and discontented, clung to ancient usages and
pretensions which were ended by the Reformation; and was in adversity,
as she had been in prosperity, scrupulous, weak-spirited, and bigoted.
While the fiery and more lofty spirit of her companion suggested a
wider field of effort, and would not be limited by ordinary rules in
the extraordinary schemes which were suggested by her bold and
irregular imagination. But Roland Graeme, instead of tracing these
peculiarities of character in the two old damps, only waited with
great anxiety for the return of Catherine, expecting probably that the
proposal of the fraternal embrace would be renewed, as his grandmother
seemed disposed to carry matters with a high hand.

His expectations, or hopes, if we may call them so, were, however,
disappointed; for, when Catherine re-entered on the summons of the
Abbess, and placed on the table an earthen pitcher of water, and four
wooden platters, with cups of the same materials, the Dame of
Heathergill, satisfied with the arbitrary mode in which she had borne
down the opposition of the Abbess, pursued her victory no farther--a
moderation for which her grandson, in his heart, returned her but
slender thanks.

In the meanwhile, Catherine continued to place upon the table the
slender preparations for the meal of a recluse, which consisted almost
entirely of colewort, boiled and served up in a wooden platter, having
no better seasoning than a little salt, and no better accompaniment
than some coarse barley-bread, in very moderate quantity. The
water-pitcher, already mentioned, furnished the only beverage. After a
Latin grace, delivered by the Abbess, the guests sat down to their
spare entertainment. The simplicity of the fare appeared to produce no
distaste in the females, who ate of it moderately, but with the usual
appearance of appetite. But Roland Graeme had been used to better
cheer. Sir Halbert Glendinning, who affected even an unusual degree of
nobleness in his housekeeping, maintained it in a style of genial
hospitality, which rivalled that of the Northern Barons of England. He
might think, perhaps, that by doing so, he acted yet more completely
the part for which he was born--that of a great Baron and a leader.
Two bullocks, and six sheep, weekly, were the allowance when the Baron
was at home, and the number was not greatly diminished during his
absence. A boll of malt was weekly brewed into ale, which was used by
the household at discretion. Bread was baked in proportion for the
consumption of his domestics and retainers; and in this scene of
plenty had Roland Graeme now lived for several years. It formed a bad
introduction to lukewarm greens and spring-water; and probably his
countenance indicated some sense of the difference, for the Abbess
observed, "It would seem, my son, that the tables of the heretic
Baron, whom you have so long followed, are more daintily furnished
than those of the suffering daughters of the church; and yet, not upon
the most solemn nights of festival, when the nuns were permitted to
eat their portion at mine own table, did I consider the cates, which
were then served up, as half so delicious as these vegetables and this
water, on which I prefer to feed, rather than do aught which may
derogate from the strictness of my vow. It shall never be said that
the mistress of this house made it a house of feasting, when days of
darkness and of affliction were hanging over the Holy Church, of which
I am an unworthy member."

"Well hast thou said, my sister," replied Magdalen Graeme; "but now it
is not only time to suffer in the good cause, but to act in it. And
since our pilgrim's meal is finished, let us go apart to prepare for
our journey tomorrow, and to advise on the manner in which these
children shall be employed, and what measures we can adopt to supply
their thoughtlessness and lack of discretion."

Notwithstanding his indifferent cheer, the heart of Roland Graeme
bounded high at this proposal, which he doubted not would lead to
another _tГЄte-Гў-tГЄte_ betwixt him and the pretty novice. But he
was mistaken. Catherine, it would seem, had no mind so far to indulge
him; for, moved either by delicacy or caprice, or some of those
indescribable shades betwixt the one and the other, with which women
love to tease, and at the same time to captivate, the ruder sex, she
reminded the Abbess that it was necessary she should retire an hour
before vespers; and, receiving the ready and approving nod of her
Superior, she arose to withdraw. But before leaving the apartment, she
made obeisance to the matrons, bending herself till her hands touched
her knees, and then made a lesser reverence to Roland, which consisted
in a slight bend of the body and gentle depression of the head. This
she performed very demurely; but the party on whom the salutation was
conferred, thought he could discern in her manner an arch and
mischievous exultation over his secret disappointment.--"The devil
take the saucy girl," he thought in his heart, though the presence of
the Abbess should have repressed all such profane imaginations,--"she
is as hard-hearted as the laughing hyaena that the story-books tell
of--she has a mind that I shall not forget her this night at least."

The matrons now retired also, giving the page to understand that he
was on no account to stir from the convent, or to show himself at the
windows, the Abbess assigning as a reason, the readiness with which
the rude heretics caught at every occasion of scandalizing the
religious orders.

"This is worse than the rigour of Mr. Henry Warden, himself," said the
page, when he was left alone; "for, to do him justice, however strict
in requiring the most rigid attention during the time of his homilies,
he left us to the freedom of our own wills afterwards--ay, and would
take a share in our pastimes, too, if he thought them entirely
innocent. But these old women are utterly wrapt up in gloom, mystery
and self-denial.--Well, then, if I must neither stir out of the gate
nor look out at window, I will at least see what the inside of the
house contains that may help to pass away one's time--peradventure I
may light on that blue-eyed laugher in some corner or other."

Going, therefore, out of the chamber by the entrance opposite to that
through which the two matrons had departed, (for it may be readily
supposed that he had no desire to intrude on their privacy.) he
wandered from one chamber to another, through the deserted edifice,
seeking, with boyish eagerness, some source of interest and amusement.
Here he passed through a long gallery, opening on either hand into the
little cells of the nuns, all deserted, and deprived of the few
trifling articles of furniture which the rules of the order admitted.

"The birds are flown," thought the page; "but whether they will find
themselves worse off in the open air than in these damp narrow cages,
I leave my Lady Abbess and my venerable relative to settle betwixt
them. I think the wild young lark whom they have left behind them,
would like best to sing under God's free sky."