Chapter the First.
_Domum mansit--lanam fecit._ Ancient Roman Epitaph.
She keepit close the hous, and birlit at the quhele. GAWAIN DOUGLAS.
The time which passes over our heads so imperceptibly, makes thesame gradual change in habits, manners, and character, as in personalappearance. At the revolution of every five years we find ourselvesanother, and yet the same--there is a change of views, and no less ofthe light in which we regard them; a change of motives as well asof actions. Nearly twice that space had glided away over the head ofHalbert Glendinning and his lady, betwixt the period of our formernarrative, in which they played a distinguished part, and the date atwhich our present tale commences.
Two circumstances only had imbittered their union, which was otherwiseas happy as mutual affection could render it. The first of these wasindeed the common calamity of Scotland, being the distracted state ofthat unhappy country, where every man's sword was directed against hisneighbour's bosom. Glendinning had proved what Murray expected of him,a steady friend, strong in battle, and wise in counsel, adhering to him,from motives of gratitude, in situations where by his own unbiassed willhe would either have stood neuter, or have joined the opposite party.Hence, when danger was near--and it was seldom far distant--Sir HalbertGlendinning, for he now bore the rank of knighthood, was perpetuallysummoned to attend his patron on distant expeditions, or on perilousenterprises, or to assist him with his counsel in the doubtful intriguesof a half-barbarous court. He was thus frequently, and for a long space,absent from his castle and from his lady; and to this ground of regretwe must add, that their union had not been blessed with children, tooccupy the attention of the Lady of Avenel, while she was thus deprivedof her husband's domestic society.
On such occasions she lived almost entirely secluded from the world,within the walls of her paternal mansion. Visiting amongst neighborswas a matter entirely out of the question, unless on occasions of solemnfestival, and then it was chiefly confined to near kindred. Of these theLady of Avenel had none who survived, and the dames of the neighbouringbarons affected to regard her less as the heiress of the house of Avenelthan as the wife of a peasant, the son of a church-vassal, raised up tomushroom eminence by the capricious favour of Murray.
The pride of ancestry, which rankled in the bosom of the ancient gentry,was more openly expressed by their ladies, and was, moreover, imbitterednot a little by the political feuds of the time, for most of theSouthern chiefs were friends to the authority of the Queen, and veryjealous of the power of Murray. The Castle of Avenel was, therefore, onall these accounts, as melancholy and solitary a residence for its ladyas could well be imagined. Still it had the essential recommendation ofgreat security. The reader is already aware that the fortress was builtupon an islet on a small lake, and was only accessible by a causeway,intersected by a double ditch, defended by two draw-bridges, so thatwithout artillery, it might in those days be considered as impregnable.It was only necessary, therefore, to secure against surprise, andthe service of six able men within the castle was sufficient for thatpurpose. If more serious danger threatened, an ample garrison wassupplied by the male inhabitants of a little hamlet, which, under theauspices of Halbert Glendinning, had arisen on a small piece of levelground, betwixt the lake and the hill, nearly adjoining to the spotwhere the causeway joined the mainland. The Lord of Avenel had foundit an easy matter to procure inhabitants, as he was not only a kind andbeneficent overlord, but well qualified, both by his experience in arms,his high character for wisdom and integrity, and his favour with thepowerful Earl of Murray, to protect and defend those who dwelt under hisbanner. In leaving his castle for any length of time, he had, therefore,the consolation to reflect, that this village afforded, on the slightestnotice, a band of thirty stout men, which was more than sufficient forits defence; while the families of the villagers, as was usual on suchoccasions, fled to the recesses of the mountains, drove their cattleto the same places of shelter, and left the enemy to work their will ontheir miserable cottages.
One guest only resided generally, if not constantly, at the Castle ofAvenel. This was Henry Warden, who now felt himself less able for thestormy task imposed on the reforming clergy; and having by his zealgiven personal offence to many of the leading nobles and chiefs, did notconsider himself as perfectly safe, unless when within the walls of thestrong mansion of some assured friend. He ceased not, however, to servehis cause as eagerly with his pen, as he had formerly done with histongue, and had engaged in a furious and acrimonious contest, concerningthe sacrifice of the mass, as it was termed, with the Abbot Eustatius,formerly the Sub-Prior of Kennaquhair. Answers, replies, duplies,triplies, quadruplies, followed thick upon each other, and displayed, asis not unusual in controversy, fully as much zeal as Christian charity.The disputation very soon became as celebrated as that of John Knoxand the Abbot of Crosraguel, raged nearly as fiercely, and, for aught Iknow, the publications to which it gave rise may be as precious in theeyes of bibliographers. [Footnote: The tracts which appeared in theDisputation between the Scottish Reformer and Quentin Kennedy, Abbotof Crosraguel, are among the scarcest in Scottish Bibliography. SeeM'Crie's _Life of Knox_, p. 258.] But the engrossing nature of hisoccupation rendered the theologian not the most interesting companionfor a solitary female; and his grave, stern, and absorbed deportment,which seldom showed any interest, except in that which concerned hisreligious profession, made his presence rather add to than diminish thegloom which hung over the Castle of Avenel. To superintend the tasks ofnumerous female domestics, was the principal part of the Lady's dailyemployment; her spindle and distaff, her Bible, and a solitary walk uponthe battlements of the castle, or upon the causeway, or occasionally,but more seldom, upon the banks of the little lake, consumed the restof the day. But so great was the insecurity of the period, that whenshe ventured to extend her walk beyond the hamlet, the warder on thewatch-tower was directed to keep a sharp look-out in every direction,and four or five men held themselves in readiness to mount and sallyforth from the castle on the slightest appearance of alarm.
Thus stood affairs at the castle, when, after an absence of severalweeks, the Knight of Avenel, which was now the title most frequentlygiven to Sir Halbert Glendinning, was daily expected to return home. Dayafter day, however, passed away, and he returned not. Letters inthose days were rarely written, and the Knight must have resorted to asecretary to express his intentions in that manner; besides, intercourseof all kinds was precarious and unsafe, and no man cared to give anypublic intimation of the time and direction of a journey, since, if hisroute were publicly known, it was always likely he might in that casemeet with more enemies than friends upon the road. The precise day,therefore, of Sir Halbert's return, was not fixed, but that which hislady's fond expectation had calculated upon in her own mind had longsince passed, and hope delayed began to make the heart sick.
It was upon the evening of a sultry summer's day, when the sun washalf-sunk behind the distant western mountains of Liddesdale, that theLady took her solitary walk on the battlements of a range of buildings,which formed the front of the castle, where a flat roof of flag-stonespresented a broad and convenient promenade. The level surface of thelake, undisturbed except by the occasional dipping of a teal-duck, orcoot, was gilded with the beams of the setting luminary, and reflected,as if in a golden mirror, the hills amongst which it lay embossed. Thescene, otherwise so lonely, was occasionally enlivened by the voices ofthe children in the village, which, softened by distance, reached theear of the Lady, in her solitary walk, or by the distant call of theherdsman, as he guided his cattle from the glen in which they hadpastured all day, to place them in greater security for the night,in the immediate vicinity of the village. The deep lowing of the cowsseemed to demand the attendance of the milk-maidens, who, singingshrilly and merrily, strolled forth, each with her pail on her head,to attend to the duty of the evening. The Lady of Avenel looked andlistened; the sounds which she heard reminded he
r of former days, whenher most important employment, as well as her greatest delight, wasto assist Dame Glendinning and Tibb Tackett in milking the cows atGlendearg. The thought was fraught with melancholy.
"Why was I not," she said, "the peasant girl which in all men's eyes Iseemed to be? Halbert and I had then spent our life peacefully in hisnative glen, undisturbed by the phantoms either of fear or of ambition.His greatest pride had then been to show the fairest herd in theHalidome; his greatest danger to repel some pilfering snatcher from theBorder; and the utmost distance which would have divided us, would havebeen the chase of some outlying deer. But, alas! what avails the bloodwhich Halbert has shed, and the dangers which he encounters, to supporta name and rank, dear to him because he has it from me, but which weshall never transmit to our posterity! with me the name of Avenel mustexpire."
She sighed as the reflections arose, and, looking towards the shore ofthe lake, her eye was attracted by a group of children of various ages,assembled to see a little ship, constructed by some village artist,perform its first voyage on the water. It was launched amid the shoutsof tiny voices and the clapping of little hands, and shot bravely forthon its voyage with a favouring wind, which promised to carry it to theother side of the lake. Some of the bigger boys ran round to receive andsecure it on the farther shore, trying their speed against each otheras they sprang like young fawns along the shingly verge of the lake. Therest, for whom such a journey seemed too arduous, remained watching themotions of the fairy vessel from the spot where it had been launched.The sight of their sports pressed on the mind of the childless Lady ofAvenel.
"Why are none of these prattlers mine?" she continued, pursuing thetenor of her melancholy reflections. "Their parents can scarce find themthe coarsest food--and I, who could nurse them in plenty, I am doomednever to hear a child call me mother!"
The thought sunk on her heart with a bitterness which resembled envy,so deeply is the desire of offspring implanted in the female breast. Shepressed her hands together as if she were wringing them in the extremityof her desolate feeling, as one whom Heaven had written childless. Alarge stag-hound of the greyhound species approached at this moment, andattracted perhaps by the gesture, licked her hands and pressed his largehead against them. He obtained the desired caresses in return, but stillthe sad impression remained.
"Wolf," she said, as if the animal could have understood her complaints,"thou art a noble and beautiful animal; but, alas! the love andaffection that I long to bestow, is of a quality higher than can fall tothy share, though I love thee much."
And, as if she were apologizing to Wolf for withholding from him anypart of her regard, she caressed his proud head and crest, while,looking in her eyes, he seemed to ask her what she wanted, or what hecould do to show his attachment. At this moment a shriek of distresswas heard on the shore, from the playful group which had been lately sojovial. The Lady looked, and saw the cause with great agony.
The little ship, the object of the children's delighted attention, hadstuck among some tufts of the plant which bears the water-lily, thatmarked a shoal in the lake about an arrow-flight from the shore. A hardylittle boy, who had taken the lead in the race round the margin of thelake, did not hesitate a moment to strip off his _wylie-coat_, plungeinto the water, and swim towards the object of their common solicitude.The first movement of the Lady was to call for help; but she observedthat the boy swam strongly and fearlessly, and as she saw that one ortwo villagers, who were distant spectators of the incident, seemed togive themselves no uneasiness on his account, she supposed that he wasaccustomed to the exercise, and that there was no danger. But whether,in swimming, the boy had struck his breast against a sunken rock,or whether he was suddenly taken with cramp, or whether he hadover-calculated his own strength, it so happened, that when he haddisembarrassed the little plaything from the flags in which it wasentangled, and sent it forward on its course, he had scarce swam a fewyards in his way to the shore, than he raised himself suddenly from thewater, and screamed aloud, clapping his hands at the same time with anexpression of fear and pain.
The Lady of Avenel, instantly taking the alarm, called hastily to theattendants to get the boat ready. But this was an affair of some time.The only boat permitted to be used on the lake, was moored within thesecond cut which intersected the canal, and it was several minutes ereit could be unmoored and got under way. Meantime, the Lady of Avenel,with agonizing anxiety, saw that the efforts that the poor boy made tokeep himself afloat, were now exchanged for a faint struggling, whichwould soon have been over, but for aid equally prompt and unhoped-for.Wolf, who, like some of that large species of greyhound, was a practisedwater-dog, had marked the object of her anxiety, and, quitting hismistress's side, had sought the nearest point from which he could withsafety plunge into the lake. With the wonderful instinct which thesenoble animals have so often displayed in the like circumstances, heswam straight to the spot where his assistance was so much wanted,and seizing the child's under-dress in his mouth, he not only kept himafloat, but towed him towards the causeway. The boat having put off witha couple of men, met the dog half-way, and relieved him of his burden.They landed on the causeway, close by the gates of the castle, withtheir yet lifeless charge, and were there met by the Lady of Avenel,attended by one or two of her maidens, eagerly waiting to administerassistance to the sufferer.
He was borne into the castle, deposited upon a bed, and every mode ofrecovery resorted to, which the knowledge of the times, and the skillof Henry Warden, who professed some medical science, could dictate. Forsome time it was all in vain, and the Lady watched, with unspeakableearnestness, the pallid countenance of the beautiful child. He seemedabout ten years old. His dress was of the meanest sort, but his longcurled hair, and the noble cast of his features, partook not of thatpoverty of appearance. The proudest noble in Scotland might have beenyet prouder could he have called that child his heir. While, withbreathless anxiety, the Lady of Avenel gazed on his well-formed andexpressive features, a slight shade of colour returned gradually to thecheek; suspended animation became restored by degrees, the child sigheddeeply, opened his eyes, which to the human countenance produces theeffect of light upon the natural landscape, stretched his arms towardsthe Lady, and muttered the word "Mother," that epithet, of all others,which is dearest to the female ear.
"God, madam," said the preacher, "has restored the child to your wishes;it must be yours so to bring him up, that he may not one day wish thathe had perished in his innocence."
"It shall be my charge," said the Lady; and again throwing her armsaround the boy, she overwhelmed him with kisses and caresses, so muchwas she agitated by the terror arising from the danger in which he hadbeen just placed, and by joy at his unexpected deliverance.
"But you are not my mother," said the boy, recovering his recollection,and endeavouring, though faintly, to escape from the caresses of theLady of Avenel; "you are not my mother,--alas! I have no mother--only Ihave dreamt that I had one."
"I will read the dream for you, my love," answered the Lady of Avenel;"and I will be myself your mother. Surely God has heard my wishes,and, in his own marvellous manner, hath sent me an object on which myaffections may expand themselves." She looked towards Warden as shespoke. The preacher hesitated what he should reply to a burst ofpassionate feeling, which, perhaps, seemed to him more enthusiastic thanthe occasion demanded. In the meanwhile, the large stag-hound, Wolf,which, dripping wet as he was, had followed his mistress into theapartment, and had sat by the bedside, a patient and quiet spectator ofall the means used for resuscitation of the being whom he had preserved,now became impatient of remaining any longer unnoticed, and began towhine and fawn upon the Lady with his great rough paws.
"Yes," she said, "good Wolf, and you shall be remembered also for yourday's work; and I will think the more of you for having preserved thelife of a creature so beautiful."
But Wolf was not quite satisfied with the share of attention which hethus attracted; he persisted in whining and pawing upon his
mistress,his caresses rendered still more troublesome by his long shaggy hairbeing so much and thoroughly wetted, till she desired one of thedomestics, with whom he was familiar, to call the animal out of theapartment. Wolf resisted every invitation to this purpose, until hismistress positively commanded him to be gone, in an angry tone; when,turning towards the bed on which the body still lay, half awake tosensation, half drowned in the meanders of fluctuating delirium, heuttered a deep and savage growl, curled up his nose and lips, showinghis full range of white and sharpened teeth, which might have matchedthose of an actual wolf, and then, turning round, sullenly followed thedomestic out of the apartment.
"It is singular," said the Lady, addressing Warden; "the animal is notonly so good-natured to all, but so particularly fond of children. Whatcan ail him at the little fellow whose life he has saved?"
"Dogs," replied the preacher, "are but too like the human race in theirfoibles, though their instinct be less erring than the reason of poormortal man when relying upon his own unassisted powers. Jealousy, mygood lady, is a passion not unknown to them, and they often evince it,not only with respect to the preferences which they see given by theirmasters to individuals of their own species, but even when their rivalsare children. You have caressed that child much and eagerly, and the dogconsiders himself as a discarded favourite."
"It is a strange instinct," said the Lady; "and from the gravity withwhich you mention it, my reverend friend, I would almost say that yousupposed this singular jealousy of my favourite Wolf, was not only wellfounded, but justifiable. But perhaps you speak in jest?"
"I seldom jest," answered the preacher; "life was not lent to us tobe expended in that idle mirth which resembles the crackling of thornsunder the pot. I would only have you derive, if it so please you,this lesson from what I have said, that the best of our feelings, whenindulged to excess, may give pain to others. There is but one in whichwe may indulge to the utmost limit of vehemence of which our bosom iscapable, secure that excess cannot exist in the greatest intensity towhich it can be excited--I mean the love of our Maker."
"Surely," said the Lady of Avenel, "we are commanded by the sameauthority to love our neighbour?"
"Ay, madam," said Warden, "but our love to God is to be unbounded--weare to love him with our whole heart, our whole soul, and our wholestrength. The love which the precept commands us to bear to ourneighbour, has affixed to it a direct limit and qualification--we are tolove our neighbour as ourself; as it is elsewhere explained by the greatcommandment, that we must do unto him as we would that he should do untous. Here there is a limit, and a bound, even to the most praiseworthy ofour affections, so far as they are turned upon sublunary and terrestrialobjects. We are to render to our neighbour, whatever be his rank ordegree, that corresponding portion of affection with which we couldrationally expect we should ourselves be regarded by those standing inthe same relation to us. Hence, neither husband nor wife, neither sonnor daughter, neither friend nor relation, are lawfully to be made theobjects of our idolatry. The Lord our God is a jealous God, and will notendure that we bestow on the creature that extremity of devotion whichHe who made us demands as his own share. I say to you, Lady, that evenin the fairest, and purest, and most honourable feelings of our nature,there is that original taint of sin which ought to make us pause andhesitate, ere we indulge them to excess."
"I understand not this, reverend sir," said the Lady; "nor do I guesswhat I can have now said or done, to draw down on me an admonition whichhas something a taste of reproof."
"Lady," said Warden, "I crave your pardon, if I have urged aught beyondthe limits of my duty. But consider, whether in the sacred promise to benot only a protectress, but a mother, to this poor child, your purposemay meet the wishes of the noble knight your husband. The fondness whichyou have lavished on the unfortunate, and, I own, most lovely child,has met something like a reproof in the bearing of your householddog.--Displease not your noble husband. Men, as well as animals, arejealous of the affections of those they love."
"This is too much, reverend sir," said the Lady of Avenel, greatlyoffended. "You have been long our guest, and have received from theKnight of Avenel and myself that honour and regard which your characterand profession so justly demand. But I am yet to learn that we have atany time authorized your interference in our family arrangements, orplaced you as a judge of our conduct towards each other. I pray this maybe forborne in future."
"Lady," replied the preacher, with the boldness peculiar to the clergyof his persuasion at that time, "when you weary of my admonitions--whenI see that my services are no longer acceptable to you, and the nobleknight your husband, I shall know that my Master wills me no longer toabide here; and, praying for a continuance of his best blessings on yourfamily I will then, were the season the depth of winter, and the hourmidnight, walk out on yonder waste, and travel forth through these wildmountains, as lonely and unaided, though far more helpless, than whenI first met your husband in the valley of Glendearg. But while Iremain here, I will not see you err from the true path, no, not ahair's-breadth, without making the old man's voice and remonstranceheard."
"Nay, but," said the Lady, who both loved and respected the good man,though sometimes a little offended at what she conceived to be anexuberant degree of zeal, "we will not part this way, my good friend.Women are quick and hasty in their feelings; but, believe me, my wishesand my purposes towards this child are such as both my husband andyou will approve of." The clergyman bowed, and retreated to his ownapartment.