The Abbot

  Chapter the Thirty-Third.

  Death distant?--No, alas! he's ever with us, And shakes the dart at us in all our actings: He lurks within our cup, while we're in health; Sits by our sick-bed, mocks our medicines; We cannot walk, or sit, or ride, or travel, But Death is by to seize us when he lists. THE SPANISH FATHER.

  From the agitating scene in the Queen's presence-chamber, the Lady ofLochleven retreated to her own apartment, and ordered the steward to becalled before her.

  "Have they not disarmed thee, Dryfesdale?" she said, on seeing himenter, accoutred, as usual, with sword and dagger.

  "No!" replied the old man; "how should they?--Your ladyship, when youcommanded me to ward, said nought of laying down my arms; and, I thinknone of your menials, without your order, or your son's, dare approachJasper Dryfesdale for such a purpose.--Shall I now give up my sword toyou?--it is worth little now, for it has fought for your house till itis worn down to old iron, like the pantler's old chipping knife."

  "You have attempted a deadly crime--poison under trust."

  "Under trust?--hem!--I know not what your ladyship thinks of it, but theworld without thinks the trust was given you even for that very end; andyou would have been well off had it been so ended as I proposed, and youneither the worse nor the wiser."

  "Wretch!" exclaimed the lady, "and fool as well as villain, who couldnot even execute the crime he had planned!"

  "I bid as fair for it as man could," replied Dryfesdale; "I went to awoman--a witch and a Papist--If I found not poison, it was because itwas otherwise predestined. I tried fair for it; but the half-done jobmay be clouted, if you will."

  "Villain! I am even now about to send off an express messenger to myson, to take order how thou shouldst be disposed of. Prepare thyself fordeath, if thou canst."

  "He that looks on death, Lady," answered Dryfesdale, "as that whichhe may not shun, and which has its own fixed and certain hour, is everprepared for it. He that is hanged in May will eat no flaunes[footnote: Pancakes] in midsummer--so there is the moan made for the oldserving-man. But whom, pray I, send you on so fair an errand?"

  "There will be no lack of messengers," answered his mistress.

  "By my hand, but there will," replied the old man; "your castle is butpoorly manned, considering the watches that you must keep, having thischarge--There is the warder, and two others, whom you discarded fortampering with Master George; then for the warder's tower, the bailie,the donjon--five men mount each guard, and the rest must sleep for themost part in their clothes. To send away another man, were to harassthe sentinels to death--unthrifty misuse for a household. To take in newsoldiers were dangerous, the charge requiring tried men. I see but onething for it--I will do your errand to Sir William Douglas myself."

  "That were indeed a resource!--And on what day within twenty years wouldit be done?" said the Lady.

  "Even with the speed of man and horse," said Dryfesdale; "for though Icare not much about the latter days of an old serving-man's life, yet Iwould like to know as soon as may be, whether my neck is mine own or thehangman's."

  "Holdest thou thy own life so lightly?" said the Lady.

  "Else I had reckoned more of that of others," said thepredestinarian--"What is death?--it is but ceasing to live--And whatis living?--a weary return of light and darkness, sleeping and waking,being hungered and eating. Your dead man needs neither candle nor can,neither fire nor feather-bed; and the joiner's chest serves him for aneternal frieze-jerkin."

  "Wretched man! believest thou not that after death comes the judgment?"

  "Lady," answered Dryfesdale, "as my mistress, I may not dispute yourwords; but, as spiritually speaking, you are still but a burner ofbricks in Egypt, ignorant of the freedom of the saints; for, as was wellshown to me by that gifted man, Nicolaus Schoefferbach, who was martyredby the bloody Bishop of Munster, he cannot sin who doth but execute thatwhich is predestined, since--"

  "Silence!" said the Lady, interrupting him,--"Answer me not with thybold and presumptuous blasphemy, but hear me. Thou hast been long theservant of our house--"

  "The born servant of the Douglas--they have had the best of me--I servedthem since I left Lockerbie: I was then ten years old, and you may soonadd the threescore to it."

  "Thy foul attempt has miscarried, so thou art guilty only in intention.It were a deserved deed to hang thee on the warder's tower; and yetin thy present mind, it were but giving a soul to Satan. I take thineoffer, then--Go hence--here is my packet--I will add to it but a line,to desire him to send me a faithful servant or two to complete thegarrison. Let my son deal with you as he will. If thou art wise, thouwilt make for Lockerbie so soon as thy foot touches dry land, and letthe packet find another bearer; at all rates, look it miscarries not."

  "Nay, madam," replied he--"I was born, as I said, the Douglas's servant,and I will be no corbie-messenger in mine old age--your message to yourson shall be done as truly by me as if it concerned another man's neck.I take my leave of your honour."

  The Lady issued her commands, and the old man was ferried over to theshore, to proceed on his extraordinary pilgrimage. It is necessarythe reader should accompany him on his journey, which Providence haddetermined should not be of long duration.

  On arriving at the village, the steward, although his disgrace hadtranspired, was readily accommodated with a horse, by the Chamberlain'sauthority; and the roads being by no means esteemed safe, he associatedhimself with Auchtermuchty, the common carrier, in order to travel inhis company to Edinburgh.

  The worthy waggoner, according to the established customs of allcarriers, stage-coachmen, and other persons in public authority, fromthe earliest days to the present, never wanted good reasons for stoppingupon the road, as often as he would; and the place which had mostcaptivation for him as a resting-place was a change-house, as it wastermed, not very distant from a romantic dell, well known by the nameof Keirie Craigs. Attractions of a kind very different from thosewhich arrested the progress of John Auchtermuchty and his wains, stillcontinue to hover round this romantic spot, and none has visited itsvicinity without a desire to remain long and to return soon.

  Arrived near his favourite _howss_, not all the authority of Dryfesdale(much diminished indeed by the rumours of his disgrace) could prevail onthe carrier, obstinate as the brutes which he drove, to pass on withouthis accustomed halt, for which the distance he had travelled furnishedlittle or no pretence. Old Keltie, the landlord, who had bestowed hisname on a bridge in the neighbourhood of his quondam dwelling, receivedthe carrier with his usual festive cordiality, and adjourned with himinto the house, under pretence of important business, which, I believe,consisted in their emptying together a mutchkin stoup of usquebaugh.While the worthy host and his guest were thus employed, the discardedsteward, with a double portion of moroseness in his gesture and look,walked discontentedly into the kitchen of the place, which was occupiedbut by one guest. The stranger was a slight figure, scarce above the ageof boyhood, and in the dress of a page, but bearing an air of haughtyaristocratic boldness and even insolence in his look and manner, thatmight have made Dryfesdale conclude he had pretensions to superiorrank, had not his experience taught him how frequently these airs ofsuperiority were assumed by the domestics and military retainers of theScottish nobility.--"The pilgrim's morning to you, old sir," said theyouth; "you come, as I think, from Lochleven Castle--What news of ourbonny Queen?--a fairer dove was never pent up in so wretched a dovecot."

  "They that speak of Lochleven, and of those whom its walls contain,"answered Dryfesdale, "speak of what concerns the Douglas; and they whospeak of what concerns the Douglas, do it at their peril."

  "Do you speak from fear of them, old man, or would you make a quarrelfor them?--I should have deemed your age might have cooled your blood."

  "Never, while there are empty-pated coxcombs at each corner to keep itwarm."

  "The sight of thy gray hairs keeps mine cold," said the boy, who hadrisen up and now sat down again.


  "It is well for thee, or I had cooled it with this holly-rod," repliedthe steward. "I think thou be'st one of those swash-bucklers, who brawlin alehouses and taverns; and who, if words were pikes, and oaths wereAndrew Ferraras, would soon place the religion of Babylon in the landonce more, and the woman of Moab upon the throne."

  "Now, by Saint Bennet of Seyton," said the youth, "I will strike thee onthe face, thou foul-mouthed old railing heretic!"

  "Saint Bennet of Seyton," echoed the steward; "a proper warrant is SaintBennet's, and for a proper nest of wolf-birds like the Seytons!--I willarrest thee as a traitor to King James and the good Regent.--Ho! JohnAuchtermuchty, raise aid against the King's traitor!"

  So saying, he laid his hand on the youth's collar, and drew his sword.John Auchtermuchty looked in, but, seeing the naked weapon, ran fasterout than he entered. Keltie, the landlord, stood by and helped neitherparty, only exclaiming, "Gentlemen! gentlemen! for the love of Heaven!"and so forth. A struggle ensued, in which the young man, chafed atDryfesdale's boldness, and unable, with the ease he expected, toextricate himself from the old man's determined grasp, drew his dagger,and with the speed of light, dealt him three wounds in the breast andbody, the least of which was mortal. The old man sunk on the ground witha deep groan, and the host set up a piteous exclamation of surprise.

  "Peace, ye brawling hound!" said the wounded steward; "are dagger-stabsand dying men such rarities in Scotland, that you should cry as if thehouse were falling?--Youth, I do not forgive thee, for there is noughtbetwixt us to forgive. Thou hast done what I have done to more thanone--And I suffer what I have seen them suffer--it was all ordained tobe thus and not otherwise. But if thou wouldst do me right, thou wiltsend this packet safely to the hands of Sir William Douglas; and seethat my memory suffer not, as if I would have loitered on mine errandfor fear of my life."

  The youth, whose passion had subsided the instant he had done the deed,listened with sympathy and attention, when another person, muffled inhis cloak, entered the apartment, and exclaimed--"Good God! Dryfesdale,and expiring!"

  "Ay, and Dryfesdale would that he had been dead," answered the woundedman, "rather than that his ears had heard the words of the only Douglasthat ever was false--but yet it is better as it is. Good my murderer,and the rest of you, stand back a little, and let me speak with thisunhappy apostate.--Kneel down by me, Master George--You have heard thatI failed in my attempt to take away that Moabitish stumbling-block andher retinue--I gave them that which I thought would have removed thetemptation out of thy path--and this, though I had other reasons to showto thy mother and others, I did chiefly purpose for love of thee."

  "For the love of me, base poisoner!" answered Douglas, "wouldst thouhave committed so horrible, so unprovoked a murder, and mentioned myname with it?"

  "And wherefore not, George of Douglas?" answered Dryfesdale. "Breathis now scarce with me, but I would spend my last gasp on this argument.Hast thou not, despite the honour thou owest to thy parents, the faiththat is due to thy religion, the truth that is due to thy king, beenso carried away by the charms of this beautiful sorceress, that thouwouldst have helped her to escape from her prison-house, and lent herthine arm again to ascend the throne, which she had made a place ofabomination?--Nay, stir not from me--my hand, though fast stiffening,has yet force enough to hold thee--What dost thou aim at?--to wed thiswitch of Scotland?--I warrant thee, thou mayest succeed--her heart andhand have been oft won at a cheaper rate, than thou, fool that thou art,would think thyself happy to pay. But, should a servant of thy father'shouse have seen thee embrace the fate of the idiot Darnley, or ofthe villain Bothwell--the fate of the murdered fool, or of the livingpirate--while an ounce of ratsbane would have saved thee?"

  "Think on God, Dryfesdale," said George Douglas, "and leave theutterance of those horrors--Repent, if thou canst--if not, at leastbe silent.--Seyton, aid me to support this dying wretch, that he maycompose himself to better thoughts, if it be possible."

  "Seyton!" answered the dying man; "Seyton! Is it by a Seyton's hand thatI fall at last?--There is something of retribution in that--since thehouse had nigh lost a sister by my deed." Fixing his fading eyes on theyouth, he added, "He hath her very features and presence!--Stoop down,youth, and let me see thee closer--I would know thee when we meet inyonder world, for homicides will herd together there, and I have beenone." He pulled Seyton's face, in spite of some resistance, closer tohis own, looked at him fixedly, and added, "Thou hast begun young--thycareer will be the briefer--ay, thou wilt be met with, and that anon--ayoung plant never throve that was watered with an old man's blood.--Yetwhy blame I thee? Strange turns of fate," he muttered, ceasing toaddress Seyton; "I designed what I could not do, and he has done whathe did not perchance design.--Wondrous, that our will should ever opposeitself to the strong and uncontrollable tide of destiny--that we shouldstrive with the stream when we might drift with the current! My brainwill serve me to question it no farther--I would Schoefferbach werehere--yet why?--I am on a course which the vessel can hold without apilot.--Farewell, George of Douglas--I die true to thy father's house."He fell into convulsions at these words, and shortly after expired.

  Seyton and Douglas stood looking on the dying man, and when the scenewas closed, the former was the first to speak. "As I live, Douglas, Imeant not this, and am sorry; but he laid hands on me, and compelled meto defend my freedom, as I best might, with my dagger. If he were tentimes thy friend and follower, I can but say that I am sorry."

  "I blame thee not, Seyton," said Douglas, "though I lament the chance.There is an overruling destiny above us, though not in the sense inwhich it was viewed by that wretched man, who, beguiled by some foreignmystagogue, used the awful word as the ready apology for whatever hechose to do--we must examine the packet."

  They withdrew into an inner room, and remained deep in consultation,until they were disturbed by the entrance of Keltie, who, with anembarrassed countenance, asked Master George Douglas's pleasurerespecting the disposal of the body. "Your honour knows," he added,"that I make my bread by living men, not by dead corpses; and old Mr.Dryfesdale, who was but a sorry customer while he was alive, occupiesmy public room now that he is deceased, and can neither call for ale norbrandy."

  "Tie a stone round his neck," said Seyton, "and when the sun is down,have him to the Loch of Ore, heave him in, and let him alone for findingout the bottom."

  "Under your favour, sir," said George Douglas, "it shall not beso.--Keltie, thou art a true fellow to me, and thy having been so shalladvantage thee. Send or take the body to the chapel at Scotland's wall,or to the church of Ballanry, and tell what tale thou wilt of his havingfallen in a brawl with some unruly guests of thine. Auchtermuchty knowsnought else, nor are the times so peaceful as to admit close-lookinginto such accounts."

  "Nay, let him tell the truth," said Seyton, "so far as it harms not ourscheme.--Say that Henry Seyton met with him, my good fellow;--I care nota brass bodle for the feud."

  "A feud with the Douglas was ever to be feared, however," said George,displeasure mingling with his natural deep gravity of manner.

  "Not when the best of the name is on my side," replied Seyton.

  "Alas! Henry, if thou meanest me, I am but half a Douglas in thisemprize--half head, half heart, and half hand.--But I will think onone who can never be forgotten, and be all, or more, than any of myancestors was ever.--Keltie, say it was Henry Seyton did the deed; butbeware, not a word of me!--Let Auchtermuchty carry this packet" (whichhe had resealed with his own signet) "to my father at Edinburgh; andhere is to pay for the funeral expenses, and thy loss of custom."

  "And the washing of the floor," said the landlord, "which will be anextraordinary job; for blood they say, will scarcely ever cleanse out."

  "But as for your plan," said George of Douglas, addressing Seyton, as ifin continuation of what they had been before treating of, "it has a goodface; but, under your favour, you are yourself too hot and too young,besides other reasons which are much against your playing the part youprop
ose."

  "We will consult the Father Abbot upon it," said the youth. "Do you rideto Kinross to-night?"

  "Ay--so I purpose," answered Douglas; "the night will be dark, and suitsa muffled man. [Footnote: Generally, a disguised man; originally one whowears the cloak or mantle muffled round the lower part of the faceto conceal his countenance. I have on an ancient, piece of iron therepresentation of a robber thus accoutred, endeavouring to make his wayinto a house, and opposed by a mastiff, to whom he in vain offers food.The motto is _spernit dona fides_. It is part of a fire-grate said tohave belonged to Archbishop Sharpe.]--Keltie, I forgot, there shouldbe a stone laid on that man's grave, recording his name, and his onlymerit, which was being a faithful servant to the Douglas."

  "What religion was the man of?" said Seyton; "he used words, which makeme fear I have sent Satan a subject before his time."

  "I can tell you little of that," said George Douglas; "he was noted fordisliking both Rome and Geneva, and spoke of lights he had learned amongthe fierce sectaries of Lower Germany--an evil doctrine it was, if wejudge by the fruits. God keep us from presumptuously judging of Heaven'ssecrets!"

  "Amen!" said the young Seyton, "and from meeting any encounter thisevening."

  "It is not thy wont to pray so," said George Douglas.

  "No! I leave that to you," replied the youth, "when you are seized withscruples of engaging with your father's vassals. But I would fain havethis old man's blood off these hands of mine ere I shed more--I willconfess to the Abbot to-night, and I trust to have light penance forridding the earth of such a miscreant. All I sorrow for is, that he wasnot a score of years younger--He drew steel first, however, that is onecomfort."