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 situationof awkwardness, like that in which she was suddenly left to makeacquaintance with a handsome youth, not even known to her by name,struck her, in spite of herself, in a ludicrous point of view. She benther beautiful eyes upon the work with which she was busied, and withinfinite gravity sate out the two first turns of the matrons upon thebalcony; but then, glancing her deep blue eye a little towards Roland,and observing the embarrassment under which he laboured, now shifting onhis chair, and now dangling his cap, the whole man evincing that he wasperfectly at a loss how to open the conversation, she could keep hercomposure no longer, but after a vain struggle broke out into a sincere,though a very involuntary fit of laughing, so richly accompanied by thelaughter of her merry eyes, which actually glanced through the tearswhich the effort filled them with, and by the waving of her richtresses, that the goddess of smiles herself never looked more lovelythan Catherine at that moment. A court page would not have left her longalone in her mirth; but Roland was country-bred, and, besides, havingsome jealousy as well as bashfulness, he took it into his head that hewas himself the object of her inextinguishable laughter. His endeavoursto sympathize with Catherine, therefore, could carry him no farther thana forced giggle, which had more of displeasure than of mirth in it, andwhich so much enhanced that of the girl, that it seemed to render itimpossible for her ever to bring her laughter to an end, with whateveranxious pains she laboured to do so. For every one has felt, that when aparoxysm of laughter has seized him at a misbecoming time and place,the efforts which he made to suppress it, nay, the very sense of theimpropriety of giving way to it, tend only to augment and prolong theirresistible impulse.
It was undoubtedly lucky for Catherine, as well as for Roland, that thelatter did not share in the excessive mirth of the former. For, seatedas she was, with her back to the casement, Catherine could easily escapethe observation of the two matrons during the course of their promenade;whereas Graeme was so placed, with his side to the window, that hismirth, had he shared that of his companion, would have been instantlyvisible, and could not have failed to give offence to the personages inquestion. He sate, however, with some impatience, until Catherine hadexhausted either her power or her desire of laughing, and was returningwith good grace to the exercise of her needle, and then he observed withsome dryness, that "there seemed no great occasion to recommend to themto improve their acquaintance, as it seemed, that they were alreadytolerably familiar."
Catherine had an extreme desire to set off upon a fresh score, butshe repressed it strongly, and fixing her eyes on her work, replied byasking his pardon, and promising to avoid future offence.
Roland had sense enough to feel, that an air of offended dignity wasvery much misplaced, and that it was with a very different bearing heought to meet the deep blue eyes which had borne such a hearty burden inthe laughing scene. He tried, therefore, to extricate himself as well ashe could from his blunder, by assuming a tone of correspondent gaiety,and requesting to know of the nymph, "how it was her pleasure that theyshould proceed in improving the acquaintance which had commenced somerrily."
"That," she said, "you must yourself discover; perhaps I have gone astep too far in opening our interview."
"Suppose," said Roland Graeme, "we should begin as in a tale-book, byasking each other's names and histories?"
"It is right well imagined," said Catherine, "and shows an argutejudgment. Do you begin, and I will listen, and only put in a questionor two at the dark parts of the story. Come, unfold then your name andhistory, 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 muchof their history. My father was a Scottish knight, who died gallantlyin his stirrups--my mother was a Graeme of Hathergill, in the DebateableLand--most of her family were killed when the Debateable country wasburned 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 Ilike the living specimen (a glance at the casement) far less than thosethat are dead. Your much honoured grandmother looks as if she could makeone weep in sad earnest. And now, fair sir, for your own person--if youtell not the tale faster, it will be cut short in the middle; MotherBridget pauses longer and longer every time she passes the window, andwith 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 bepage 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 puritanwhen it suits her purpose, and she had some plan of her own, forquartering me in the Castle--it would have failed, however, after we hadremained several weeks at the hamlet, but for an unexpected master ofceremonies--"
"And who was that?" said the girl.
"A large black dog, Wolf by name, who brought me into the castle one dayin his mouth, like a hurt wild-duck, and presented me to the lady."
"A most respectable introduction, truly," said Catherine; "and whatmight you learn at this same castle? I love dearly to know what myacquaintances 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. Butproceed, fair sir; how came your Huguenot lord and your no less Huguenotlady to receive and keep in the family so perilous a person as aCatholic page?"
"Because they knew not that part of my history, which from infancy Ihave been taught to keep secret--and because my grand-dame's formerzealous attendance on their heretic chaplain, had laid all thissuspicion to sleep, most fair Callipolis," said the page; and in sosaying, he edged his chair towards the seat of the fair querist.
"Nay, but keep your distance, most gallant sir," answered the blue-eyedmaiden, "for, unless I greatly mistake, these reverend ladies will sooninterrupt our amicable conference, if the acquaintance they recommendshall seem to proceed beyond a certain point--so, fair sir, bepleased to abide by your station, and reply to my questions.--By whatachievements did you prove the qualities of a page, which you had thushappily acquired?"
Roland, who began to enter into the tone and spirit of the damsel'sconversation, replied to her with becoming spirit.
"In no feat, fair gentlewoman, was I found inexpert, wherein there wasmischief implied. I shot swans, hunted cats, frightened serving-women,chased the deer, and robbed the orchard. I say nothing of tormenting thechaplain in various ways, for that was my duty as a good Catholic."
"Now, as I am a gentlewoman," said Catherine, "I think these hereticshave done Catholic penance in entertaining so all-accomplished aserving-man! And what, fair sir, might have been the unhappy event whichdeprived them of an inmate altogether so estimable?"
"Truly, fair gentlewoman," answered the youth, "your real proverb saysthat the longest lane will have a turning, and mine was more--it was, infine, 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 notfor my learning, I do know the schools--in plain phrase, why were yousent from service?"
The page shrugged his shoulders while he replied,--"A short tale is soontold--and a short horse soon curried. I made the falconer's boy taste ofmy switch--the falconer threatened to make me brook his cudgel--he is akindly clown as well as a stout, and I would rather have been cudgelledby him than any man in Christendom to choose--but I knew not hisqualities at that time--so I threatened to make him brook the stab, andmy Lady made me brook the 'Begone;' so adieu to the page's office andthe fair Castle of Avenel--I had not travelled far before I met myvenerable parent--And so tell your tale, fair gentlewoman, for mine isdone."
"A happy grandmother," said the maiden, "who had the luck to find thestray page just when his mistress had slipped his leash, and a mostlucky page that has jumped at once from a page to an old lady'sgentleman-usher!"
"All this is nothing of your history," answered Roland Graeme, beganto be much interested in the congenial vivacity of this facetious younggentlewoman,--"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 byme, 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 thecounterpart of your own; the same words might almost serve, change butdress 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 witha sudden expression of sorrow, "that is the only question I cannot laughat."
"And Dame Bridget is your grandmother?"
The sudden cloud passed away like that which crosses for an instant thesummer sun, and she answered with her usual lively expression, "Worse bytwenty degrees--Dame Bridget is my maiden aunt."
"Over gods forbode!" said Roland--"Alas! that you have such a tale totell! 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'swaiting-woman?"
"Nay, our history varies there," said the damsel--"Our mistress brokeup house, or had her house broke up, which is the same thing, and I am afree woman of the forest."
"And I am as glad of it as if any one had lined my doublet with cloth ofgold," said the youth.
"I thank you for your mirth," said she, "but the matter is not likely toconcern 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 oldhooded crows, and their croak grows hoarser as night comes on; they willwing to roost presently.--This mistress of yours, fair gentlewoman, whowas she, in God's name?"
"Oh, she has a fair name in the world," replied Catherine Seyton. "Fewladies kept a fairer house, or held more gentlewomen in her household;my aunt Bridget was one of her housekeepers. We never saw our mistress'sblessed face, to be sure, but we heard enough of her; were up early anddown 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 expressionof fear.--"God pardon us both! I meant no harm. I speak of our blessedSaint 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 theworld and its pleasures. We have got permission to remain, or rather ourremaining has been connived at, for my aunt has great relations amongthe 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 supposeyou wept yourself blind when Saint Catherine broke up housekeepingbefore you had taken arles [Footnote: _Anglice_--Earnest-money] in herservice?"
"Hush! for Heaven's sake," said the damsel, crossing herself; "no moreof that! but I have not quite cried my eyes out," said she, turning themupon him, and instantly again bending them upon her work. It was one ofthose glances which would require the threefold plate of brass aroundthe heart, more than it is needed by the mariners, to whom Horacerecommends it. Our youthful page had no defence whatever to offer.
"What say you, Catherine," he said, "if we two, thus strangely turnedout of service at the same time, should give our two most venerableduennas the torch to hold, while we walk a merry measure with each otherover the floor of this weary world?"
"A goodly proposal, truly," said Catherine, "and worthy the mad-capbrain of a discarded page!--And what shifts does your worship proposewe should live by?--by singing ballads, cutting purses, or swaggeringon the highway? for there, I think, you would find your most productiveexchequer."
"Choose, you proud peat!" said the page, drawing off in huge disdainat the calm and unembarrassed ridicule with which his wild proposal wasreceived. And as he spoke the words, the casement was again darkened bythe forms of the matrons--it opened, and admitted Magdalen Graeme andthe Mother Abbess, so we must now style her, into the apartment.