Chapter the Twenty-Eighth.
Yes, it is he whose eyes look'd on thy childhood, And watch'd with trembling hope thy dawn of youth, That now, with these same eyeballs dimm'd with age, And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonour. OLD PLAY.
At the entrance of the principal, or indeed, so to speak, the onlystreet in Kinross, the damsel, whose steps were pursued by RolandGraeme, cast a glance behind her, as if to be certain he had not losttrace of her and then plunged down a very narrow lane which ran betwixttwo rows of poor and ruinous cottages. She paused for a second at thedoor of one of those miserable tenements, again cast her eye up the lanetowards Roland, then lifted the latch, opened the door, and disappearedfrom his view.
With whatever haste the page followed her example, the difficulty whichhe found in discovering the trick of the latch, which did not work quitein the usual manner, and in pushing open the door, which did not yieldto his first effort, delayed for a minute or two his entrance into thecottage. A dark and smoky passage led, as usual, betwixt the exteriorwall of the house, and the _hallan_, or clay wall, which served as apartition betwixt it and the interior. At the end of this passage,and through the partition, was a door leading into the _ben_, or innerchamber of the cottage, and when Roland Graeme's hand was upon the latchof this door, a female voice pronounced, "_Benedictus qui veniat innomine Domini, damnandus qui in nomine inimici._" On entering theapartment, he perceived the figure which the chamberlain had pointed outto him as Mother Nicneven, seated beside the lowly hearth. But there wasno other person in the room. Roland Graeme gazed around in surprise atthe disappearance of Catherine Seyton, without paying much regard to thesupposed sorceress, until she attracted and riveted his regard by thetone in which she asked him--"What seekest thou here?"
"I seek," said the page, with much embarrassment; "I seek--"
But his answer was cut short, when the old woman, drawing her huge grayeyebrows sternly together, with a frown which knitted her brow into athousand wrinkles, arose, and erecting herself up to her full naturalsize, tore the kerchief from her head, and seizing Roland by the arm,made two strides across the floor of the apartment to a small windowthrough which the light fell full on her face, and showed the astonishedyouth the countenance of Magdalen Graeme.--"Yes, Roland," she said,"thine eyes deceive thee not; they show thee truly the features of herwhom thou hast thyself deceived, whose wine thou hast turned into gall,her bread of joyfulness into bitter poison, her hope into the blackestdespair--it is she who now demands of thee, what seekest thou here?--Shewhose heaviest sin towards Heaven hath been, that she loved theeeven better than the weal of the whole church, and could not withoutreluctance surrender thee even in the cause of God--she now asks you,what seekest thou here?"
While she spoke, she kept her broad black eye riveted on the youth'sface, with the expression with which the eagle regards his prey ere hetears it to pieces. Roland felt himself at the moment incapable eitherof reply or evasion. This extraordinary enthusiast had preserved overhim in some measure the ascendency which she had acquired during hischildhood; and, besides, he knew the violence of her passions and herimpatience of contradiction, and was sensible that almost any replywhich he could make, was likely to throw her into an ecstasy of rage.He was therefore silent; and Magdalen Graeme proceeded with increasingenthusiasm in her apostrophe--"Once more, what seek'st thou, falseboy?--seek'st thou the honour thou hast renounced, the faith thou hastabandoned, the hopes thou hast destroyed?--Or didst thou seek me, thesole protectress of thy youth, the only parent whom thou hast known,that thou mayest trample on my gray hairs, even as thou hast alreadytrampled on the best wishes of my heart?"
"Pardon me, mother," said Roland Graeme; "but, in truth and reason,I deserve not your blame. I have been treated amongst you--even byyourself, my revered parent, as well as by others--as one who lacked thecommon attributes of free-will and human reason, or was at least deemedunfit to exercise them. A land of enchantment have I been led into, andspells have been cast around me--every one has met me in disguise--everyone has spoken to me in parables--I have been like one who walks in aweary and bewildering dream; and now you blame me that I have not thesense, and judgment, and steadiness of a waking, and a disenchanted, anda reasonable man, who knows what he is doing, and wherefore he does it.If one must walk with masks and spectres, who waft themselves from placeto place as it were in vision rather than reality, it might shake thesoundest faith and turn the wisest head. I sought, since I must needsavow my folly, the same Catherine Seyton with whom you made me firstacquainted, and whom I most strangely find in this village of Kinross,gayest among the revellers, when I had but just left her in thewell-guarded castle of Lochleven, the sad attendant of an imprisonedQueen-I sought her, and in her place I find you, my mother, morestrangely disguised than even she is."
"And what hadst thou to do with Catherine Seyton?" said the matron,sternly; "is this a time or a world to follow maidens, or to dancearound a Maypole? When the trumpet summons every true-hearted Scotsmanaround the standard of the true sovereign, shalt thou be found loiteringin a lady's bower?"
"No, by Heaven, nor imprisoned in the rugged walls of an island castle!"answered Roland Graeme: "I would the blast were to sound even now, for Ifear that nothing less loud will dispel the chimerical visions by whichI am surrounded."
"Doubt not that it will be winded," said the matron, "and that sofearfully loud, that Scotland will never hear the like until the lastand loudest blast of all shall announce to mountain and to valley thattime is no more. Meanwhile, be thou but brave and constant--Serve Godand honour thy sovereign--Abide by thy religion--I cannot--I willnot--I dare not ask thee the truth of the terrible surmises I have heardtouching thy falling away--perfect not that accursed sacrifice--and yet,even at this late hour, thou mayest be what I have hoped for the sonof my dearest hope--what say I? the son of _my_ hope--thou shalt be thehope of Scotland, her boast and her honour!--Even thy wildest and mostfoolish wishes may perchance be fulfilled--I might blush to minglemeaner motives with the noble guerdon I hold out to thee--It shames me,being such as I am, to mention the idle passions of youth, save withcontempt and the purpose of censure. But we must bribe children towholesome medicine by the offer of cates, and youth to honourableachievement with the promise of pleasure. Mark me, therefore, Roland.The love of Catherine Seyton will follow him only who shall achieve thefreedom of her mistress; and believe, it may be one day in thine ownpower to be that happy lover. Cast, therefore, away doubt and fear, andprepare to do what religion calls for, what thy country demands of thee,what thy duty as a subject and as a servant alike require at your hand;and be assured, even the idlest or wildest wishes of thy heart will bemost readily attained by following the call of thy duty."
As she ceased speaking, a double knock was heard against the inner door.The matron hastily adjusting her muffler, and resuming her chair by thehearth, demanded who was there.
"_Salve in nomine sancto_," was answered from without.
"_Salvete et vos_," answered Magdalen Graeme.
And a man entered in the ordinary dress of a nobleman's retainer,wearing at his girdle a sword and buckler--"I sought you," said he, "mymother, and him whom I see with you." Then addressing himself to RolandGraeme, he said to him, "Hast thou not a packet from George Douglas?"
"I have," said the page, suddenly recollecting that which had beencommitted to his charge in the morning, "but I may not deliver it to anyone without some token that they have a right to ask it."
"You say well," replied the serving-man, and whispered into his ear,"The packet which I ask is the report to his father--will this tokensuffice?"
"It will," replied the page, and taking the packet from his bosom, gaveit to the man.
"I will return presently," said the serving-man, and left the cottage.
Roland had now sufficiently recovered his surprise to accost hisrelative in turn, and request to know the reason why he found her inso precarious a disguise, and a place so dangerou
s--"You cannot beignorant," he said, "of the hatred that the Lady of Lochleven bears tothose of your--that is of our religion--your present disguise lays youopen to suspicion of a different kind, but inferring no less hazard;and whether as a Catholic, or as a sorceress, or as a friend to theunfortunate Queen, you are in equal danger, if apprehended within thebounds of the Douglas; and in the chamberlain who administers theirauthority, you have, for his own reasons, an enemy, and a bitter one."
"I know it," said the matron, her eyes kindling with triumph; "I knowthat, vain of his school-craft, and carnal wisdom, Luke Lundin viewswith jealousy and hatred the blessings which the saints have conferredon my prayers, and on the holy relics, before the touch, nay, before thebare presence of which, disease and death have so often been known toretreat.--I know he would rend and tear me; but there is a chain anda muzzle on the ban dog that shall restrain his fury, and the Master'sservant shall not be offended by him until the Master's work is wrought.When that hour comes, let the shadows of the evening descend on me inthunder and in tempest; the time shall be welcome that relieves my eyesfrom seeing guilt, and my ears from listening to blasphemy. Do thou butbe constant--play thy part as I have played and will play mine, and myrelease shall be like that of a blessed martyr whose ascent to heavenangels hail with psalm and song, while earth pursues him with hiss andwith execration."
As she concluded, the serving-man again entered the cottage, and said,"All is well! the time holds for to-morrow night."
"What time? what holds?" exclaimed Roland Graeme; "I trust I have giventhe Douglas's packet to no wrong--"
"Content yourself, young man," answered the serving-man; "thou hast myword and token."
"I know not if the token be right," said the page; "and I care not muchfor the word of a stranger."
"What," said the matron, "although thou mayest have given a packetdelivered to thy charge by one of the Queen's rebels into the hand ofa loyal subject--there were no great mistake in that, thou hot-brainedboy!"
"By Saint Andrew, there were foul mistake, though," answered the page;"it is the very spirit of my duty, in this first stage of chivalry,to be faithful to my trust; and had the devil given me a message todischarge, I would not (so I had plighted my faith to the contrary)betray his counsel to an angel of light."
"Now, by the love I once bore thee," said the matron, "I could slay theewith mine own hand, when I hear thee talk of a dearer faith being due torebels and heretics, than thou owest to thy church and thy prince!"
"Be patient, my good sister," said the serving-man; "I will give himsuch reasons as shall counterbalance the scruples which besethim---the spirit is honourable, though now it may be mistimed andmisplaced.--Follow me, young man."
"Ere I go to call this stranger to a reckoning," said the page to thematron, "is there nothing I can do for your comfort and safety?"
"Nothing," she replied, "nothing, save what will lead more to thine ownhonour;--the saints who have protected me thus far, will lend me succouras I need it. Tread the path of glory that is before thee, and onlythink of me as the creature on earth who will be most delighted to hearof thy fame.--Follow the stranger--he hath tidings for you that youlittle expect."
The stranger remained on the threshold as if waiting for Roland, and assoon as he saw him put himself in motion, he moved on before at a quickpace. Diving still deeper down the lane, Roland perceived that it wasnow bordered by buildings upon the one side only, and that the otherwas fenced by a high old wall, over which some trees extended theirbranches. Descending a good way farther, they came to a small door inthe wall. Roland's guide paused, looked around an instant to see if anyone were within sight, then taking a key from his pocket, opened thedoor and entered, making a sign to Roland Graeme to follow him. He didso, and the stranger locked the door carefully on the inside. Duringthis operation the page had a moment to look around, and perceived thathe was in a small orchard very trimly kept.
The stranger led him through an alley or two, shaded by trees loadedwith summer-fruit, into a pleached arbour, where, taking the turf-seatwhich was on the one side, he motioned to Roland to occupy thatwhich was opposite to him, and, after a momentary silence, opened theconversation as follows: "You have asked a better warrant than the wordof a mere stranger, to satisfy you that I have the authority of Georgeof Douglas for possessing myself of the packet intrusted to yourcharge."
"It is precisely the point on which I demand reckoning of you," saidRoland. "I fear I have acted hastily; if so, I must redeem my error as Ibest may."
"You hold me then as a perfect stranger?" said the man. "Look at my facemore attentively, and see if the features do not resemble those of a manmuch known to you formerly."
Roland gazed attentively; but the ideas recalled to his mind were soinconsistent with the mean and servile dress of the person before him,that he did not venture to express the opinion which he was irresistiblyinduced to form.
"Yes, my son," said the stranger, observing his embarrassment, "youdo indeed see before you the unfortunate Father Ambrosius, who onceaccounted his ministry crowned in your preservation from the snares ofheresy, but who is now condemned to lament thee as a castaway!"
Roland Graeme's kindness of heart was at least equal to his vivacityof temper--he could not bear to see his ancient and honoured master andspiritual guide in a situation which inferred a change of fortune somelancholy, but throwing himself at his feet, grasped his knees and weptaloud.
"What mean these tears, my son?" said the Abbot; "if they are shed foryour own sins and follies, surely they are gracious showers, and mayavail thee much--but weep not, if they fall on my account. You indeedsee the Superior of the community of Saint Mary's in the dress of a poorsworder, who gives his master the use of his blade and buckler, and,if needful, of his life, for a coarse livery coat and four marks by theyear. But such a garb suits the time, and, in the period of the churchmilitant, as well becomes her prelates, as staff, mitre, and crosier, inthe days of the church's triumph."
"By what fate," said the page--"and yet why," added he, checkinghimself, "need I ask? Catherine Seyton in some sort prepared me forthis. But that the change should be so absolute--the destruction socomplete!"--
"Yes, my son," said the Abbot Ambrosius, "thine own eyes beheld, in myunworthy elevation to the Abbot's stall, the last especial act of holysolemnity which shall be seen in the church of Saint Mary's, until itshall please Heaven to turn back the captivity of the church. For thepresent, the shepherd is smitten--ay, well-nigh to the earth--theflock are scattered, and the shrines of saints and martyrs, and piousbenefactors to the church, are given to the owls of night, and thesatyrs of the desert."
"And your brother, the Knight of Avenel--could he do nothing for yourprotection?"
"He himself hath fallen under the suspicion of the ruling powers," saidthe Abbot, "who are as unjust to their friends as they are cruel totheir enemies. I could not grieve at it, did I hope it might estrangehim from his cause; but I know the soul of Halbert, and I rather fearit will drive him to prove his fidelity to their unhappy cause, by somedeed which may be yet more destructive to the church, and more offensiveto Heaven. Enough of this; and now to the business of our meeting.--Itrust you will hold it sufficient if I pass my word to you that thepacket of which you were lately the bearer, was designed for my hands byGeorge of Douglas?"
"Then," said the page, "is George of Douglas----"
"A true friend to his Queen, Roland; and will soon, I trust, have hiseyes opened to the errors of his (miscalled) church."
"But what is he to his father, and what to the Lady of Lochleven, whohas been as a mother to him?" said the page impatiently.
"The best friend to both, in time and through eternity," said the Abbot,"if he shall prove the happy instrument for redeeming the evil they havewrought, and are still working."
"Still," said the page, "I like not that good service which begins inbreach of trust."
"I blame not thy scruples, my son," said the Abbot; "but the time whichhas wrench
ed asunder the allegiance of Christians to the church, and ofsubjects to their king, has dissolved all the lesser bonds of society;and, in such days, mere human ties must no more restrain our progress,than the brambles and briers which catch hold of his garments, shoulddelay the path of a pilgrim who travels to pay his vows."
"But, my father,"--said the youth, and then stopt short in a hesitatingmanner.
"Speak on, my son," said the Abbot; "speak without fear."
"Let me not offend you then," said Roland, "when I say, that it iseven this which our adversaries charge against us; when they say that,shaping the means according to the end, we are willing to commit greatmoral evil in order that we may work out eventual good."
"The heretics have played their usual arts on you, my son," said theAbbot; "they would willingly deprive us of the power of acting wiselyand secretly, though their possession of superior force forbids ourcontending with them on terms of equality. They have reduced us to astate of exhausted weakness, and now would fain proscribe the means bywhich weakness, through all the range of nature, supplies the lack ofstrength and defends itself against its potent enemies. As well mightthe hound say to the hare, use not these wily turns to escape me, butcontend with me in pitched battle, as the armed and powerful hereticdemand of the down-trodden and oppressed Catholic to lay aside thewisdom of the serpent, by which alone they may again hope to raiseup the Jerusalem over which they weep, and which it is their duty torebuild--But more of this hereafter. And now, my son, I command theeon thy faith to tell me truly and particularly what has chanced to theesince we parted, and what is the present state of thy conscience. Thyrelation, our sister Magdalen, is a woman of excellent gifts, blessedwith a zeal which neither doubt nor danger can quench; but yet it isnot a zeal altogether according to knowledge; wherefore, my son, I wouldwillingly be myself thy interrogator, and thy counsellor, in these daysof darkness and stratagem."
With the respect which he owed to his first instructor, Roland Graemewent rapidly through the events which the reader is acquainted with; andwhile he disguised not from the prelate the impression which hadbeen made on his mind by the arguments of the preacher Henderson, heaccidentally and almost involuntarily gave his Father Confessor tounderstand the influence which Catherine Seyton had acquired over hismind.
"It is with joy I discover, my dearest son," replied the Abbot, "thatI have arrived in time to arrest thee on the verge of the precipice towhich thou wert approaching. These doubts of which you complain, are theweeds which naturally grow up in a strong soil, and require the carefulhand of the husbandman to eradicate them. Thou must study a littlevolume, which I will impart to thee in fitting time, in which, by OurLady's grace, I have placed in somewhat a clearer light than heretofore,the points debated betwixt us and these heretics, who sow among thewheat the same tares which were formerly privily mingled with the goodseed by the Albigenses and the Lollards. But it is not by reason alonethat you must hope to conquer these insinuations of the enemy: It issometimes by timely resistance, but oftener by timely flight. Youmust shut your ears against the arguments of the heresiarch, whencircumstances permit you not to withdraw the foot from his company.Anchor your thoughts upon the service of Our Lady, while he is expendingin vain his heretical sophistry. Are you unable to maintain yourattention on heavenly objects--think rather on thine own earthlypleasures, than tempt Providence and the Saints by giving an attentiveear to the erring doctrine--think of thy hawk, thy hound, thine anglingrod, thy sword and buckler--think even of Catherine Seyton, rather thangive thy soul to the lessons of the tempter. Alas! my son, believe notthat, worn out with woes, and bent more by affliction than by years, Ihave forgotten the effect of beauty over the heart of youth. Even inthe watches of the night, broken by thoughts of an imprisoned Queen, adistracted kingdom, a church laid waste and ruinous, come other thoughtsthan these suggest, and feelings which belonged to an earlier andhappier course of life. Be it so--we must bear our load as we may: andnot in vain are these passions implanted in our breast, since, as nowin thy case, they may come in aid of resolutions founded upon highergrounds. Yet beware, my son--this Catherine Seyton is the daughter ofone of Scotland's proudest, as well as most worthy barons; and thy statemay not suffer thee, as yet, to aspire so high. But thus it is--Heavenworks its purposes through human folly; and Douglas's ambitiousaffection, as well as thine, shall contribute alike to the desired end."
"How, my father," said the page, "my suspicions are then true!--Douglasloves----"
"He does; and with a love as much misplaced as thine own; but beware ofhim--cross him not--thwart him not."
"Let him not cross or thwart me," said the page; "for I will not yieldhim an inch of way, had he in his body the soul of every Douglasthat has lived since the time of the Dark Gray Man." [Footnote: By anancient, though improbable tradition, the Douglasses are said to havederived their name from a champion who had greatly distinguished himselfin an action. When the king demanded by whom the battle had been won,the attendants are said to have answered, "Sholto Douglas, sir;" whichis said to mean, "Yonder dark gray man." But the name is undoubtedlyterritorial, and taken from Douglas river and vale.]
"Nay, have patience, idle boy, and reflect that your suit can neverinterfere with his.--But a truce with these vanities, and let us betteremploy the little space which still remains to us to spend together. Tothy knees, my son, and resume the long-interrupted duty of confession,that, happen what may, the hour may find in thee a faithful Catholic,relieved from the guilt of his sins by authority of the Holy Church.Could I but tell thee, Roland, the joy with which I see thee once moreput thy knee to its best and fittest use! _Quid dicis, mi fili?_"
"_Culpas meas_" answered the youth; and according to the ritual of theCatholic Church, he confessed and received absolution, to which wasannexed the condition of performing certain enjoined penances.
When this religious ceremony was ended, an old man, in the dress ofa peasant of the better order, approached the arbour, and greeted theAbbot.--"I have waited the conclusion of your devotions," he said, "totell you the youth is sought after by the chamberlain, and it were wellhe should appear without delay. Holy Saint Francis, if the halberdierswere to seek him here, they might sorely wrong my garden-plot--they arein office, and reck not where they tread, were each step on jessamineand clovegilly-flowers."
"We will speed him forth, my brother," said the Abbot; "but alas! is itpossible that such trifles should live in your mind at a crisis so awfulas that which is now impending?"
"Reverend father," answered the proprietor of the garden, for such hewas, "how oft shall I pray you to keep your high counsel for high mindslike your own? What have you required of me, that I have not grantedunresistingly, though with an aching heart?"
"I would require of you to be yourself, my brother," said the AbbotAmbrosius; "to remember what you were, and to what your early vows havebound you."
"I tell thee, Father Ambrosius," replied the gardener, "the patience ofthe best saint that ever said pater-noster, would be exhausted by thetrials to which you have put mine--What I have been, it skills notto speak at present-no one knows better than yourself, father, what Irenounced, in hopes to find ease and quiet during the remainder ofmy days--and no one better knows how my retreat has been invaded, myfruit-trees broken, my flower-beds trodden down, my quiet frightenedaway, and my very sleep driven from my bed, since ever this poor Queen,God bless her, hath been sent to Lochleven.--I blame her not; being aprisoner, it is natural she should wish to get out from so vile a hold,where there is scarcely any place even for a tolerable garden, and wherethe water-mists, as I am told, blight all the early blossoms--I say, Icannot blame her for endeavouring for her freedom; but why I should bedrawn into the scheme--why my harmless arbours, that I planted with myown hands, should become places of privy conspiracy-why my little quay,which I built for my own fishing boat, should have become a haven forsecret embarkations--in short, why I should be dragged into matterswhere both heading and hanging are like to be the issue, I profes
s toyou, reverend father, I am totally ignorant."
"My brother," answered the Abbot, "you are wise, and ought to know--"
"I am not--I am not--I am not wise," replied the horticulturist,pettishly, and stopping his ears with his fingers--"I was never calledwise but when men wanted to engage me in some action of notoriousfolly."
"But, my good brother," said the Abbot--
"I am not good neither," said the peevish gardener; "I am neither goodnor wise--Had I been wise, you would not have been admitted here; andwere I good, methinks I should send you elsewhere to hatch plots fordestroying the quiet of the country. What signifies disputing aboutqueen or king,--when men may sit at peace--_sub umbra vitis sui?_ and sowould I do, after the precept of Holy Writ, were I, as you term me, wiseor good. But such as I am, my neck is in the yoke, and you make me drawwhat weight you list.--Follow me, youngster. This reverend father, whomakes in his jackman's dress nearly as reverend a figure as I myself,will agree with me in one thing at least, and that is, that you havebeen long enough here."
"Follow the good father, Roland," said the Abbot, "and remember mywords--a day is approaching that will try the temper of all trueScotsmen--may thy heart prove faithful as the steel of thy blade!"
The page bowed in silence, and they parted; the gardener,notwithstanding his advanced age, walking on before him very briskly,and muttering as he went, partly to himself, partly to his companion,after the manner of old men of weakened intellects--"When I was great,"thus ran his maundering, "and had my mule and my ambling palfrey atcommand, I warrant you I could have as well flown through the airas have walked at this pace. I had my gout and my rheumatics, and anhundred things besides, that hung fetters on my heels; and, now, thanksto Our Lady, and honest labour, I can walk with any good man of my agein the kingdom of Fife--Fy upon it, that experience should be so long incoming!"
As he was thus muttering, his eye fell upon the branch of a pear-treewhich drooped down for want of support, and at once forgetting hishaste, the old man stopped and set seriously about binding it up.Roland Graeme had both readiness, neatness of hand, and good nature inabundance; he immediately lent his aid, and in a minute or two the boughwas supported, and tied up in a way perfectly satisfactory to the oldman, who looked at it with great complaisance. "They are bergamots,"he said, "and if you will come ashore in autumn, you shall taste ofthem--the like are not in Lochleven Castle--the garden there is a poorpin-fold, and the gardener, Hugh Houkham, hath little skill of hiscraft--so come ashore, Master Page, in autumn, when you would eat pears.But what am I thinking of--ere that time come, they may have given theesour pears for plums. Take an old man's advice, youth, one who hath seenmany days, and sat in higher places than thou canst hope for--bend thysword into a pruning-hook, and make a dibble of thy dagger--thy daysshall be the longer, and thy health the better for it,--and come toaid me in my garden, and I will teach thee the real French fashion of_imping_, which the Southron call graffing. Do this, and do it withoutloss of time, for there is a whirlwind coming over the land, and onlythose shall escape who lie too much beneath the storm to have theirboughs broken by it."
So saying, he dismissed Roland Graeme, through a different doorfrom that by which he had entered, signed a cross, and pronounced abenedicite as they parted, and then, still muttering to himself, retiredinto the garden, and locked the door on the inside.