Chapter the Ninth.
Kneel with me--swear it--'tis not in words I trust, Save when they're fenced with an appeal to Heaven. OLD PLAY
After passing the night in that sound sleep for which agitation andfatigue had prepared him, Roland was awakened by the fresh morningair, and by the beams of the rising sun. His first feeling was that ofsurprise; for, instead of looking forth from a turret window on theLake of Avenel, which was the prospect his former apartment afforded,an unlatticed aperture gave him the view of the demolished garden of thebanished anchorite. He sat up on his couch of leaves, and arranged inhis memory, not without wonder, the singular events of the precedingday, which appeared the more surprising the more he considered them.He had lost the protectress of his youth, and, in the same day, hehad recovered the guide and guardian of his childhood. The formerdeprivation he felt ought to be matter of unceasing regret, andit seemed as if the latter could hardly be the subject of unmixedself-congratulation. He remembered this person, who had stood to him inthe relation of a mother, as equally affectionate in her attention, andabsolute in her authority. A singular mixture of love and fear attendedupon his early remembrances as they were connected with her; and thefear that she might desire to resume the same absolute control overhis motions--a fear which her conduct of yesterday did not tend much todissipate--weighed heavily against the joy of this second meeting.
"She cannot mean," said his rising pride, "to lead and direct me asa pupil, when I am at the age of judging of my own actions?--this shecannot mean, or meaning it, will feel herself strangely deceived."
A sense of gratitude towards the person against whom his heart thusrebelled, checked his course of feeling. He resisted the thoughts whichinvoluntarily arose in his mind, as he would have resisted an actualinstigation of the foul fiend; and, to aid him in his struggle, he feltfor his beads. But, in his hasty departure from the Castle of Avenel, hehad forgotten and left them behind him.
"This is yet worse," he said; "but two things I learned of her under themost deadly charge of secrecy--to tell my beads, and to conceal that Idid so; and I have kept my word till now; and when she shall ask mefor the rosary, I must say I have forgotten it! Do I deserve she shouldbelieve me when. I say I have kept the secret of my faith, when I set solight by its symbol?"
He paced the floor in anxious agitation. In fact, his attachment tohis faith was of a nature very different from that which animated theenthusiastic matron, but which, notwithstanding, it would have been hislast thought to relinquish.
The early charges impressed on him by his grandmother, had beeninstilled into a mind and memory of a character peculiarly tenacious.Child as he was, he was proud of the confidence reposed in hisdiscretion, and resolved to show that it had not been rashly intrustedto him. At the same time, his resolution was no more than that ofa child, and must, necessarily, have gradually faded away under theoperation both of precept and example, during his residence at theCastle of Avenel, but for the exhortations of Father Ambrose, who, inhis lay estate, had been called Edward Glendinning. This zealousmonk had been apprized, by an unsigned letter placed in his hand bya pilgrim, that a child educated in the Catholic faith was now in theCastle of Avenel, perilously situated, (so was the scroll expressed,)as ever the three children who were cast into the fiery furnace ofpersecution. The letter threw upon Father Ambrose the fault, shouldthis solitary lamb, unwillingly left within the demesnes of the prowlingwolf, become his final prey. There needed no farther exhortation to themonk than the idea that a soul might be endangered, and that a Catholicmight become an apostate; and he made his visits more frequent thanusual to the castle of Avenel, lest, through want of the privateencouragement and instruction which he always found some opportunity ofdispensing, the church should lose a proselyte, and, according to theRomish creed, the devil acquire a soul.
Still these interviews were rare; and though they encouraged thesolitary boy to keep his secret and hold fast his religion, they wereneither frequent nor long enough to inspire him with any thing beyonda blind attachment to the observances which the priest recommended. Headhered to the forms of his religion rather because he felt it wouldbe dishonourable to change that of his fathers, than from any rationalconviction or sincere belief of its mysterious doctrines. It was aprincipal part of the distinction which, in his own opinion, singled himout from those with whom he lived, and gave him an additional, though aninternal and concealed reason, for contemning those of the household whoshowed an undisguised dislike of him, and for hardening himself againstthe instructions of the chaplain, Henry Warden.
"The fanatic preacher," he thought within himself, during some oneof the chaplain's frequent discourses against the Church of Rome, "helittle knows whose ears are receiving his profane doctrine, and withwhat contempt and abhorrence they hear his blasphemies against the holyreligion by which kings have been crowned, and for which martyrs havedied!"
But in such proud feelings of defiance of heresy, as it was termed, andof its professors, which associated the Catholic religion with asense of generous independence, and that of the Protestants with thesubjugation of his mind and temper to the direction of Mr. Warden, beganand ended the faith of Roland Graeme, who, independently of the pride ofsingularity, sought not to understand, and had no one to expound tohim, the peculiarities of the tenets which he professed. His regret,therefore, at missing the rosary which had been conveyed to him throughthe hands of Father Ambrose, was rather the shame of a soldier who hasdropped his cockade, or badge of service, than that of a zealous votarywho had forgotten a visible symbol of his religion.
His thoughts on the subject, however, were mortifying, and the moreso from apprehension that his negligence must reach the ears ofhis relative. He felt it could be no one but her who had secretlytransmitted these beads to Father Ambrose for his use, and that hiscarelessness was but an indifferent requital of her kindness.
"Nor will she omit to ask me about them," said he to himself; "for hersis a zeal which age cannot quell; and if she has not quitted her wont,my answer will not fail to incense her."
While he thus communed with himself, Magdalen Graeme entered theapartment. "The blessing of the morning on your youthful head, my son,"she said, with a solemnity of expression which thrilled the youth to theheart, so sad and earnest did the benediction flow from her lips, in atone where devotion was blended with affection. "And thou hast startedthus early from thy couch to catch the first breath of the dawn? But itis not well, my Roland. Enjoy slumber while thou canst; the time is notfar behind when the waking eye must be thy portion, as well as mine."
She uttered these words with an affectionate and anxious tone, whichshowed, that devotional as were the habitual exercises of her mind, thethoughts of her nursling yet bound her to earth with the cords of humanaffection and passion.
But she abode not long in a mood which she probably regarded as amomentary dereliction of her imaginary high calling--"Come," she said,"youth, up and be doing--It is time that we leave this place."
"And whither do we go?" said the young man; "or what is the object ofour journey?"
The matron stepped back, and gazed on him with surprise, not unmingledwith displeasure.
"To what purpose such a question?" she said; "is it not enough that Ilead the way? Hast thou lived with heretics till thou hast learned toinstal the vanity of thine own private judgment in place of due honourand obedience?"
"The time," thought Roland Graeme within himself, "is already come, whenI must establish my freedom, or be a willing thrall for ever--I feelthat I must speedily look to it."
She instantly fulfilled his foreboding, by recurring to the theme bywhich her thoughts seemed most constantly engrossed, although, when shepleased, no one could so perfectly disguise her religion.
"Thy beads, my son--hast thou told thy beads?"
Roland Graeme coloured high; he felt the storm was approaching, butscorned to avert it by a falsehood.
"I have forgotten my rosary," he sai
d, "at the Castle of Avenel."
"Forgotten thy rosary!" she exclaimed; "false both to religion and tonatural duty, hast thou lost what was sent so far, and at such risk, atoken of the truest affection, that should have been, every bead of it,as dear to thee as thine eyeballs?"
"I am grieved it should have so chanced, mother," replied the youth,"and much did I value the token, as coming from you. For what remains,I trust to win gold enough, when I push my way in the world; and tillthen, beads of black oak, or a rosary of nuts, must serve the turn."
"Hear him!" said his grandmother; "young as he is, he hath learnedalready the lessons of the devil's school! The rosary, consecrated bythe Holy Father himself, and sanctified by his blessing, is but a fewknobs of gold, whose value may be replaced by the wages of hisprofane labour, and whose virtue may be supplied by a string ofhazel-nuts!--This is heresy--So Henry Warden, the wolf who ravages theflock of the Shepherd, hath taught thee to speak and to think."
"Mother," said Roland Graeme, "I am no heretic; I believe and I prayaccording to the rules of our church--This misfortune I regret, but Icannot amend it."
"Thou canst repent it, though," replied his spiritual directress,"repent it in dust and ashes, atone for it by fasting, prayer, andpenance, instead of looking on me with a countenance as light as if thouhadst lost but a button from thy cap."
"Mother," said Roland, "be appeased; I will remember my fault in thenext confession which I have space and opportunity to make, and willdo whatever the priest may require of me in atonement. For the heaviestfault 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 journeyis bound, and what is its object. I am no longer a child, but a man, andat my own disposal, with down upon my chin, and a sword by my side--Iwill go to the end of the world with you to do your pleasure; but I oweit 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 herfeatures,--"to yourself you owe nothing--you can owe nothing--to meyou owe every thing--your life when an infant--your support while achild--the means of instruction, and the hopes of honour--and, soonerthan 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 toreply,--"I forget nothing of what I owe to you, my dearest mother--showme how my blood can testify my gratitude, and you shall judge if I spareit. But blindfold obedience has in it as little merit as reason."
"Saints and angels!" replied Magdalen, "and do I hear these words fromthe child of my hopes, the nursling by whose bed I have kneeled, and forwhose weal I have wearied every saint in heaven with prayers? Roland,by obedience only canst thou show thy affection and thy gratitude. Whatavails 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; butthou wouldst observe the blinded dictates of thine own imperfect reason.Hear me, Roland! a lot calls thee--solicits thee--demands thee--theproudest to which man can be destined, and it uses the voice of thineearliest, thy best, thine only friend--Wilt thou resist it? Then gothy way--leave me here--my hopes on earth are gone and withered--I willkneel me down before yonder profaned altar, and when the raging hereticsreturn, they shall dye it with the blood of a martyr."
"But, my dearest mother," said Roland Graeme, whose early recollectionsof her violence were formidably renewed by these wild expressions ofreckless passion, "I will not forsake you--I will abide with you--worldsshall not force me from your side--I will protect--I will defend you--Iwill 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 myheart; only----"
"Nay, I receive no qualifications of thy promise," said Magdalen Graeme,catching at the word, "the obedience which I require is absolute; anda blessing on thee, thou darling memory of my beloved child, that thouhast power to make a promise so hard to human pride! Trust me well, thatin the design in which thou dost embark, thou hast for thy partners themighty and the valiant, the power of the church, and the pride of thenoble. Succeed or fail, live or die, thy name shall be among thosewith whom success or failure is alike glorious, death or life alikedesirable. Forward, then, forward! life is short, and our plan islaborious--Angels, saints, and the whole blessed host of heaven, havetheir eyes even now on this barren and blighted land of Scotland--Whatsay I? on Scotland? their eye is on _us_, Roland--on the frail woman, onthe inexperienced youth, who, amidst the ruins which sacrilege hath madein the holy place, devote themselves to God's cause, and that oftheir lawful Sovereign. Amen, so be it! The blessed eyes of saints andmartyrs, which see our resolve, shall witness the execution; or theirears, which hear our vow, shall hear our death-groan, drawn in thesacred cause!"
While thus speaking, she held Roland Graeme firmly with one hand, whileshe pointed upward with the other, to leave him, as it were, no means ofprotest against the obtestation to which he was thus made a party.When she had finished her appeal to Heaven, she left him no leisure forfarther hesitation, or for asking any explanation of her purpose; butpassing with the same ready transition as formerly, to the solicitousattentions of an anxious parent, overwhelmed him with questionsconcerning his residence in the Castle of Avenel, and the qualities andaccomplishments he had acquired.
"It is well," she said, when she had exhausted her inquiries, "my gaygoss-hawk
[Footnote: The comparison is taken from some beautiful verses in an oldballad, entitled Fause Foodrage, published in the "Minstrelsy of theScottish Border." A deposed queen, to preserve her infant son fromthe traitors who have slain his father, exchanges him with the femaleoffspring of a faithful friend, and goes on to direct the education ofthe children, and the private signals by which the parents are to hearnews 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 willhave cause to fear as well as to wonder at his flight.--Let us now," shesaid, "to our morning meal, and care not though it be a scanty one. Afew hours' walk will bring us to more friendly quarters."
They broke their fast accordingly, on such fragments as remained oftheir yesterday's provision, and immediately set out on their fartherjourney. Magdalen Graeme led the way, with a firm and active step muchbeyond her years, and Roland Graeme followed, pensive and anxious, andfar from satisfied with the state of dependence to which he seemed againto be reduced.
"Am I for ever," he said to himself, "to be devoured with the desireof independence and free agency, and yet to be for ever led on, bycircumstances, to follow the will of others?"