The Abbot

  Chapter the Thirty-Fifth.

  It is a time of danger, not of revel, When churchmen turn to masquers. SPANISH FATHER.

  The enterprise of Roland Graeme appeared to prosper. A trinket or two,of which the work did not surpass the substance, (for the materials weresilver, supplied by the Queen,) were judiciously presented to those mostlikely to be inquisitive into the labours of the forge and anvil, whichthey thus were induced to reckon profitable to others and harmlessin itself. Openly, the page was seen working about such trifles. Inprivate, he forged a number of keys resembling so nearly in weight andin form those which were presented every evening to the Lady Lochleven,that, on a slight inspection, it would have been difficult to perceivethe difference. He brought them to the dark rusty colour by the use ofsalt and water; and, in the triumph of his art, presented them at lengthto Queen Mary in her presence-chamber, about an hour before the tollingof the curfew. She looked at them with pleasure, but at the same timewith doubt.--"I allow," she said, "that the Lady Lochleven's eyes, whichare not of the clearest, may be well deceived, could we pass those keyson her in place of the real implements of her tyranny. But how is thisto be done, and which of my little court dare attempt this _tour dejongleur_ with any chance of success? Could we but engage her in someearnest matter of argument--but those which I hold with her, always havebeen of a kind which make her grasp her keys the faster, as if shesaid to herself--Here I hold what sets me above your taunts andreproaches--And even for her liberty, Mary Stuart could not stoop tospeak the proud heretic fair.--What shall we do? Shall Lady Fleming tryher eloquence in describing the last new head-tire from Paris?--alas!the good dame has not changed the fashion of her head-gear sincePinkie-field for aught that I know. Shall my _mignone_ Catherine sing toher one of those touching airs, which draw the very souls out of me andRoland Graeme?--Alas! Dame Margaret Douglas would rather hear a Huguenotpsalm of Clement Marrot, sung to the tune of _Reveillez vous, belleendormie._--Cousins and liege counsellors, what is to be done, for ourwits are really astray in this matter?--Must our man-at-arms and thechampion of our body, Roland Graeme, manfully assault the old lady, andtake the keys from her _par voie du fait?_"

  "Nay! with your Grace's permission." said Roland, "I do not doubt beingable to manage the matter with more discretion; for though, in yourGrace's service, I do not fear--"

  "A host of old women," interrupted Catherine, "each armed with rock andspindle, yet he has no fancy for pikes and partisans, which might riseat the cry of _Help! a Douglas, a Douglas!_"

  "They that do not fear fair ladies' tongues," continued the page, "needdread nothing else.--But, gracious Liege, I am well-nigh satisfied thatI could pass the exchange of these keys on the Lady Lochleven; but Idread the sentinel who is now planted nightly in the garden, which, bynecessity, we must traverse."

  "Our last advices from our friends on the shore have promised usassistance in that matter," replied the Queen.

  "And is your Grace well assured of the fidelity and watchfulness ofthose without?"

  "For their fidelity, I will answer with my life, and for theirvigilance, I will answer with my life--I will give thee instant proof,my faithful Roland, that they are ingenuous and trusty as thyself. Comehither--Nay, Catherine, attend us; we carry not so deft a page into ourprivate chamber alone. Make fast the door of the parlour, Fleming,and warn us if you hear the least step--or stay, go thou to thedoor, Catherine," (in a whisper, "thy ears and thy wits are bothsharper.)--Good Fleming, attend us thyself"--(and again she whispered,"her reverend presence will be as safe a watch on Roland as thinecan--so be not jealous, _mignone_.")

  Thus speaking, they were lighted by the Lady Fleming into the Queen'sbedroom, a small apartment enlightened by a projecting window.

  "Look from that window, Roland," she said; "see you amongst the severallights which begin to kindle, and to glimmer palely through the gray ofthe evening from the village of Kinross-seest thou, I say, one solitaryspark apart from the others, and nearer it seems to the verge of thewater?--It is no brighter at this distance than the torch of the poorglowworm, and yet, my good youth, that light is more dear to MaryStuart, than every star that twinkles in the blue vault of heaven.By that signal, I know that more than one true heart is plotting mydeliverance; and without that consciousness, and the hope of freedomit gives me, I had long since stooped to my fate, and died of a brokenheart. Plan after plan has been formed and abandoned, but still thelight glimmers; and while it glimmers, my hope lives.--Oh! how manyevenings have I sat musing in despair over our ruined schemes, andscarce hoping that I should again see that blessed signal; when ithas suddenly kindled, and, like the lights of Saint Elmo in a tempest,brought hope and consolation, where there, was only dejection anddespair!"

  "If I mistake not," answered Roland, "the candle shines from the houseof Blinkhoolie, the mail-gardener."

  "Thou hast a good eye," said the Queen; "it is there where my trustylieges--God and the saints pour blessings on them!--hold consultationfor my deliverance. The voice of a wretched captive would die on theseblue waters, long ere it could mingle in their councils; and yet I canhold communication--I will confide the whole to thee--I am about toask those faithful friends if the moment for the great attempt isnigh.--Place the lamp in the window, Fleming."

  She obeyed, and immediately withdrew it. No sooner had she done so, thanthe light in the cottage of the gardener disappeared.

  "Now count," said Queen Mary, "for my heart beats so thick that I cannotcount myself."

  The Lady Fleming began deliberately to count one, two, three, and whenshe had arrived at ten, the light on the shore showed its pale twinkle.

  "Now, our Lady be praised!" said the Queen; "it was but two nightssince, that the absence of the light remained while I could tell thirty.The hour of deliverance approaches. May God bless those who labour in itwith such truth to me!--alas! with such hazard to themselves--and blessyou, too, my children!--Come, we must to the audience-chamber again. Ourabsence might excite suspicion, should they serve supper."

  They returned to the presence-chamber, and the evening concluded asusual.

  The next morning, at dinner-time, an unusual incident occurred. WhileLady Douglas of Lochleven performed her daily duty of assistant andtaster at the Queen's table, she was told a man-at-arms had arrived,recommended by her son, but without any letter or other token than whathe brought by word of mouth.

  "Hath he given you that token?" demanded the Lady.

  "He reserved it, as I think, for your Ladyship's ear," replied Randal.

  "He doth well," said the Lady; "tell him to wait in the hall--Butno--with your permission, madam," (to the Queen) "let him attend mehere."

  "Since you are pleased to receive your domestics in my presence," saidthe Queen, "I cannot choose--"

  "My infirmities must plead my excuse, madam," replied the Lady; "thelife I must lead here ill suits with the years which have passed over myhead, and compels me to waive ceremonial."

  "Oh, my good Lady," replied the Queen, "I would there were nought inthis your castle more strongly compulsive than the cobweb chains ofceremony; but bolts and bars are harder matters to contend with."

  As she spoke, the person announced by Randal entered the room, andRoland Graeme at once recognized in him the Abbot Ambrosius.

  "What is your name, good fellow?" said the Lady.

  "Edward Glendinning," answered the Abbot, with a suitable reverence.

  "Art thou of the blood of the Knight of Avenel?" said the Lady ofLochleven.

  "Ay, madam, and that nearly," replied the pretended soldier.

  "It is likely enough," said the Lady, "for the Knight is the son of hisown good works, and has risen from obscure lineage to his present highrank in the Estate--But he is of sure truth and approved worth, and hiskinsman is welcome to us. You hold, unquestionably, the true faith?"

  "Do not doubt of it, madam," said the disguised churchman.

  "Hast thou a token to me from Sir William Douglas?" said the La
dy.

  "I have, madam," replied he; "but it must be said in private."

  "Thou art right," said the Lady, moving towards the recess of a window;"say in what does it consist?"

  "In the words of an old bard," replied the Abbot.

  "Repeat them," answered the Lady; and he uttered, in a low tone, thelines from an old poem, called The Howlet,--

  "O Douglas! Douglas! Tender and true."

  "Trusty Sir John Holland!" [Footnote: Sir John Holland's poem of theHowlet is known to collectors by the beautiful edition presented tothe Bannatyne Club, by Mr. David Laing.] said the Lady Douglas,apostrophizing the poet, "a kinder heart never inspired a rhyme, and theDouglas's honour was ever on thy heart-string! We receive you among ourfollowers, Glendinning--But, Randal, see that he keep the outer wardonly, till we shall hear more touching him from our son.--Thou fearestnot the night air. Glendinning?"

  "In the cause of the Lady before whom I stand, I fear nothing, madam,"answered the disguised Abbot.

  "Our garrison, then, is stronger by one trustworthy soldier," said thematron--"Go to the buttery, and let them make much of thee."

  When the Lady Lochleven had retired, the Queen said to Roland Graeme,who was now almost constantly in her company, "I spy comfort in thatstranger's countenance; I know not why it should be so, but I am wellpersuaded he is a friend."

  "Your Grace's penetration does not deceive you," answered the page; andhe informed her that the Abbot of St. Mary's himself played the part ofthe newly arrived soldier.

  The Queen crossed herself and looked upwards. "Unworthy sinner that Iam," she said, "that for my sake a man so holy, and so high in spiritualoffice, should wear the garb of a base sworder, and run the risk ofdying the death of a traitor!"

  "Heaven will protect its own servant, madam," said Catherine Seyton;"his aid would bring a blessing on our undertaking, were it not alreadyblest for its own sake."

  "What I admire in my spiritual father," said Roland, "was the steadyfront with which he looked on me, without giving the least sign offormer acquaintance. I did not think the like was possible, since I haveceased to believe that Henry was the same person with Catherine."

  "But marked you not how astuciously the good father," said the Queen,"eluded the questions of the woman Lochleven, telling her the verytruth, which yet she received not as such?"

  Roland thought in his heart, that when the truth was spoken for thepurpose of deceiving, it was little better than a lie in disguise. Butit was no time to agitate such questions of conscience.

  "And now for the signal from the shore," exclaimed Catherine; "my bosomtells me we shall see this night two lights instead of one gleam fromthat garden of Eden--And then, Roland, do you play your part manfully,and we will dance on the greensward like midnight fairies!"

  Catherine's conjecture misgave not, nor deceived her. In the eveningtwo beams twinkled from the cottage, instead of one; and the page heard,with beating heart, that the new retainer was ordered to stand sentinelon the outside of the castle. When he intimated this news to the Queen,she held her hand out to him--he knelt, and when he raised it to hislips in all dutiful homage, he found it was damp and cold as marble."For God's sake, madam, droop not now,--sink not now!"

  "Call upon our Lady, my Liege," said the Lady Fleming--"call upon yourtutelar saint."

  "Call the spirits of the hundred kings you are descended from,"exclaimed the page; "in this hour of need, the resolution of a monarchwere worth the aid of a hundred saints."

  "Oh! Roland Graeme," said Mary, in a tone of deep despondency, "be trueto me--many have been false to me. Alas! I have not always been true tomyself. My mind misgives me that I shall die in bondage, and that thisbold attempt will cost all our lives. It was foretold me by a soothsayerin France, that I should die in prison, and by a violent death, and herecomes the hour--Oh, would to God it found me prepared!"

  "Madam," said Catherine Seyton, "remember you are a Queen. Better we alldied in bravely attempting to gain our freedom, than remained here to bepoisoned, as men rid them of the noxious vermin that haunt old houses."

  "You are right, Catherine," said the Queen; "and Mary will bear herlike herself. But alas! your young and buoyant spirit can ill spell thecauses which have broken mine. Forgive me, my children, and farewell fora while--I will prepare both mind and body for this awful venture."

  They separated, till again called together by the tolling of the curfew.The Queen appeared grave, but firm and resolved; the Lady Fleming, withthe art of an experienced courtier, knew perfectly how to disguise herinward tremors; Catherine's eye was fired, as if with the boldness ofthe project, and the half smile which dwelt upon her beautiful mouthseemed to contemn all the risk and all the consequences of discovery;Roland, who felt how much success depended on his own address andboldness, summoned together his whole presence of mind, and if he foundhis spirits flag for a moment, cast his eye upon Catherine, whom hethought he had never seen look so beautiful.--"I may be foiled," hethought, "but with this reward in prospect, they must bring the devil toaid them ere they cross me." Thus resolved, he stood like a greyhoundin the slips, with hand, heart, and eye intent upon making and seizingopportunity for the execution of their project.

  The keys had, with the wonted ceremonial, been presented to the LadyLochleven. She stood with her back to the casement, which, like thatof the Queen's apartment, commanded a view of Kinross, with the church,which stands at some distance from the town, and nearer to the lake,then connected with the town by straggling cottages. With her back tothis casement, then, and her face to the table, on which the keys layfor an instant while she tasted the various dishes which were placedthere, stood the Lady of Lochleven, more provokingly intent thanusual--so at least it seemed to her prisoners--upon the huge and heavybunch of iron, the implements of their restraint. Just when, havingfinished her ceremony as taster of the Queen's table, she was about totake up the keys, the page, who stood beside her, and had handed her thedishes in succession, looked sideways to the churchyard, and exclaimedhe saw corpse-candles in the churchyard. The Lady of Lochleven was notwithout a touch, though a slight one, of the superstitions of the time;the fate of her sons made her alive to omens, and a corpse-light, as itwas called, in the family burial-place boded death. She turned her headtowards the casement--saw a distant glimmering--forgot her charge forone second, and in that second were lost the whole fruits of her formervigilance. The page held the forged keys under his cloak, and with greatdexterity exchanged them for the real ones. His utmost address could notprevent a slight clash as he took up the latter bunch. "Who touches thekeys?" said the Lady; and while the page answered that the sleeve of hiscloak had stirred them, she looked round, possessed herself of the bunchwhich now occupied the place of the genuine keys, and again turned togaze on the supposed corpse-candles.

  "I hold these gleams," she said, after a moment's consideration, "tocome, not from the churchyard, but from the hut of the old gardenerBlinkhoolie. I wonder what thrift that churl drives, that of late hehath ever had light in his house till the night grew deep. I thought himan industrious, peaceful man--If he turns resetter of idle companionsand night-walkers, the place must be rid of him."

  "He may work his baskets perchance," said the page, desirous to stop thetrain of her suspicion.

  "Or nets, may he not?" answered the Lady.

  "Ay, madam," said Roland, "for trout and salmon."

  "Or for fools and knaves," replied the Lady: "but this shall belooked after to-morrow.--I wish your Grace and your company a goodevening.--Randal, attend us." And Randal, who waited in the antechamberafter having surrendered his bunch of keys, gave his escort to hismistress as usual, while, leaving the Queen's apartments, she retired toher own [End of paragraph missing in original]

  "To-morrow" said the page, rubbing his hands with glee as he repeatedthe Lady's last words, "fools look to-morrow, and wise folk useto-night.--May I pray you, my gracious Liege, to retire for one halfhour, until all the castle is composed to rest? I must go
and rub withoil these blessed implements of our freedom. Courage and constancy, andall will go well, provided our friends on the shore fail not to send theboat you spoke of."

  "Fear them not," said Catherine, "they are true as steel--if our dearmistress do but maintain her noble and royal courage."

  [Footnote: In the dangerous expedition to Aberdeenshire, Randolph, theEnglish Ambassador, gives Cecil the following account of Queen Mary'sdemeanour:--

  "In all those garbulles, I assure your honour, I never saw the Queenmerrier, never dismayed; nor never thought I that stomache to be in herthat I find. She repented nothing but, when the Lords and others, atInverness, came in the morning from the watches, that she was not a man,to know what life it was to lye all night in the fields, or to walkupon the causeway with a jack and a knaps-cap, a Glasgow buckler, and abroadsword."--RANDOLPH _to_ CECIL, _September_ 18, 1562.

  The writer of the above letter seems to have felt the same impressionwhich Catherine Seyton, in the text, considered as proper to the Queen'spresence among her armed subjects.

  "Though we neither thought nor looked for other than on that day to havefought or never-what desperate blows would not have been given, whenevery man should have fought in the sight of so noble a Queen, and somany fair ladies, our enemies to have taken them from us, and we tosave our honours, not to be reft of them, your honour can easilyjudge."--_The same to the same, September_ 24, 1562. ]

  "Doubt not me, Catherine," replied the Queen; "a while since I wasoverborne, but I have recalled the spirit of my earlier and moresprightly days, when I used to accompany my armed nobles, and wish tobe myself a man, to know what life it was to be in the fields with swordand buckler, jack, and knapscap."

  "Oh, the lark lives not a gayer life, nor sings a lighter and gayer songthan the merry soldier," answered Catherine. "Your Grace shall be inthe midst of them soon, and the look of such a liege Sovereign will makeeach of your host worth three in the hour of need:--but I must to mytask."

  "We have but brief time," said Queen Mary; "one of the two lights in thecottage is extinguished--that shows the boat is put off."

  "They will row very slow," said the page, "or kent where depth permits,to avoid noise.--To our several tasks--I will communicate with the goodFather."

  At the dead hour of midnight, when all was silent in the castle, thepage put the key into the lock of the wicket which opened into thegarden, and which was at the bottom of a staircase which descended fromthe Queen's apartment. "Now, turn smooth and softly, thou good bolt,"said he, "if ever oil softened rust!" and his precautions had been soeffectual, that the bolt revolved with little or no sound of resistance.He ventured not to cross the threshold, but exchanging a word with thedisguised Abbot, asked if the boat were ready?

  "This half hour," said the sentinel. "She lies beneath the wall, tooclose under the islet to be seen by the warder, but I fear she willhardly escape his notice in putting off again."

  "The darkness," said the page, "and our profound silence, may take heroff unobserved, as she came in. Hildebrand has the watch on the tower--aheavy-headed knave, who holds a can of ale to be the best headpiece upona night-watch. He sleeps, for a wager."

  "Then bring the Queen," said the Abbot, "and I will call Henry Seyton toassist them to the boat."

  On tiptoe, with noiseless step and suppressed breath, trembling at everyrustle of their own apparel, one after another the fair prisoners glideddown the winding stair, under the guidance of Roland Graeme, and werereceived at the wicket-gate by Henry Seyton and the churchman. Theformer seemed instantly to take upon himself the whole direction of theenterprise. "My Lord Abbot," he said, "give my sister your arm--I willconduct the Queen--and that youth will have the honour to guide LadyFleming."

  This was no time to dispute the arrangement, although it was not thatwhich Roland Graeme would have chosen. Catherine Seyton, who well knewthe garden path, tripped on before like a sylph, rather leading theAbbot than receiving assistance--the Queen, her native spirit prevailingover female fear, and a thousand painful reflections, moved steadilyforward, by the assistance of Henry Seyton--while the Lady Fleming,encumbered with her fears and her helplessness Roland Graeme, whofollowed in the rear, and who bore under the other arm a packet ofnecessaries belonging to the Queen. The door of the garden, whichcommunicated with the shore of the islet, yielded to one of the keysof which Roland had possessed himself, although not until he had triedseveral,--a moment of anxious terror and expectation. The ladies werethen partly led, partly carried, to the side of the lake, where a boatwith six rowers attended them, the men couched along the bottom tosecure them from observation. Henry Seyton placed the Queen in thestern; the Abbot offered to assist Catherine, but she was seated bythe Queen's side before he could utter his proffer of help; and RolandGraeme was just lifting Lady Fleming over the boat-side, when a thoughtsuddenly occurred to him, and exclaiming, "Forgotten, forgotten! waitfor me but one half-minute," he replaced on the shore the helpless Ladyof the bed-chamber, threw the Queen's packet into the boat, and spedback through the garden with the noiseless speed of a bird on the wing.

  "By Heaven, he is false at last!" said Seyton; "I ever feared it!"

  "He is as true," said Catherine, "as Heaven itself, and that I willmaintain."

  "Be silent, minion," said her brother, "for shame, if not forfear--Fellows, put off, and row for your lives!"

  "Help me, help me on board!" said the deserted Lady Fleming, and thatlouder than prudence warranted.

  "Put off--put off!" cried Henry Seyton; "leave all behind, so the Queenis safe."

  "Will you permit this, madam?" said Catherine, imploringly; "you leaveyour deliverer to death."

  "I will not," said the Queen.--"Seyton I command you to stay at everyrisk."

  "Pardon me, madam, if I disobey," said the intractable young man; andwith one hand lifting in Lady Fleming, he began himself to push off theboat.

  She was two fathoms' length from the shore, and the rowers were gettingher head round, when Roland Graeme, arriving, bounded from the beach,and attained the boat, overturning Seyton, on whom he lighted. The youthswore a deep but suppressed oath, and stopping Graeme as he steppedtowards the stern, said, "Your place is not with high-born dames--keepat the head and trim the vessel--Now give way--give way--Row, for Godand the Queen!"

  The rowers obeyed, and began to pull vigorously.

  "Why did ye not muffle the oars?" said Roland Graeme; "the dash mustawaken the sentinel--Row, lads, and get out of reach of shot; forhad not old Hildebrand, the warder, supped upon poppy-porridge, thiswhispering must have waked him."

  "It was all thine own delay," said Seyton; "thou shalt reckon, with mehereafter for that and other matters."

  But Roland's apprehension was verified too instantly to permit him toreply. The sentinel, whose slumbering had withstood the whispering, wasalarmed by the dash of the oars. His challenge was instantly heard. "Aboat---a boat!--bring to, or I shoot!" And, as they continued to plytheir oars, he called aloud, "Treason! treason!" rung the bell of thecastle, and discharged his harquebuss at the boat. The ladies crowdedon each other like startled wild foul, at the flash and report of thepiece, while the men urged the rowers to the utmost speed. They heardmore than one ball whiz along the surface of the lake, at no greatdistance from their little bark; and from the lights, which glancedlike meteors from window to window, it was evident the whole castle wasalarmed, and their escape discovered.

  "Pull!" again exclaimed Seyton; "stretch to your oars, or I will spuryou to the task with my dagger--they will launch a boat immediately."

  "That is cared for," said Roland; "I locked gate and wicket on them whenI went back, and no boat will stir from the island this night, if doorsof good oak and bolts of iron can keep men within stone-walls.--Andnow I resign my office of porter of Lochleven, and give the keys to theKelpie's keeping."

  As the heavy keys plunged in the lake, the Abbot,--who till then hadbeen repeating his prayers, exclaimed, "Now, bless thee, my son! for thyready prudence
puts shame on us all."

  [Footnote: It is well known that the escape of Queen Mary from Lochlevenwas effected by George Douglas, the youngest brother of Sir WilliamDouglas, the lord of the castle; but the minute circumstances of theevent have been a good deal confused, owing to two agents having beenconcerned in it who bore the same name. It has been always supposed thatGeorge Douglas was induced to abet Mary's escape by the ambitions hopethat, by such service, he might merit her hand. But his purpose wasdiscovered by his brother Sir William, and he was expelled from thecastle. He continued, notwithstanding, to hover in the neighbourhood,and maintain a correspondence with the royal prisoner and others in thefortress.

  If we believe the English ambassador Drury, the Queen was grateful toGeorge Douglas, and even proposed a marriage with him; a scheme whichcould hardly be serious, since she was still the wife of Bothwell, butwhich, if suggested at all, might be with a purpose of gratifying theRegent Murray's ambition, and propitiating his favour; since he was, itmust be remembered, the brother uterine of George Douglas, for whom suchhigh honour was said to be designed.

  The proposal, if seriously made, was treated as inadmissible, and Maryagain resumed her purpose of escape. Her failure in her first attempthas some picturesque particulars, which might have been advantageouslyintroduced in fictitious narrative. Drury sends Cecil the followingaccount of the matter:--

  "But after, upon the 25th of the last, (April 1567,) she interprisedan escape, and was the rather near effect, through her accustomed longlying in bed all the morning. The manner of it was thus: there cometh into her the laundress early as other times before she was wanted, and theQueen according to such a secret practice putteth on her the hood of thelaundress, and so with the fardel of clothes and the muffler upon herface, passeth, out and entereth the boat to pass the Loch; which, aftersome space, one of them that rowed said merrily, 'Let us see what mannerof dame this is,' and therewith offered to pull down her muffler, whichto defend, she put up her hands, which they spied to be very fair andwhite; wherewith they entered into suspicion whom she was, beginning towonder at her enterprise. Whereat she was little dismayed, but chargedthem, upon danger of their lives, to row her over to the shore, whichthey nothing regarded, but eftsoons rowed her back again, promising herit should be secreted, and especially from the lord of the house, underwhose guard she lyeth. It seemeth she knew her refuge, and--where tohave found it if she had once landed; for there did, and yet do linger,at a little village called Kinross, hard at the Loch side, the sameGeorge Douglas, one Sempel and one Beton, the which two were sometimeher trusty servants, and, as yet appeareth, they mind her no lessaffection."--_Bishop Keith's History of the Affairs of Church and Statein Scotland_, p. 490.

  Notwithstanding this disappointment, little spoke of by historians, Maryrenewed her attempts to escape. There was in the Castle of Lochlevena lad, named William Douglas, some relation probably of the baron,and about eighteen years old. This youth proved as accessible to QueenMary's prayers and promises, as was the brother of his patron, GeorgeDouglas, from whom this William must be carefully kept distinct. It wasyoung William who played the part commonly assigned to his superior,George, stealing the keys of the castle from the table on which theylay, while his lord was at supper. He let the Queen and a waiting womanout of the apartment where they were secured, and out of the toweritself, embarked with them in a small skiff, and rowed them to theshore. To prevent instant pursuit, he, for precaution's sake, locked theiron grated door of the tower, and threw the keys into the lake. Theyfound George Douglas and the Queen's servant, Beton, waiting for them,and Lord Seyton and James Hamilton of Orbeiston in attendance, at thehead of a party of faithful followers, with whom they fled to NiddrieCastle, and from thence to Hamilton.

  In narrating this romantic story, both history and tradition confuse thetwo Douglasses together, and confer on George the successful executionof the escape from the castle, the merit of which belongs, in reality,to the boy called William, or, more frequently, the Little Douglas,either from his youth or his slight stature. The reader will observe,that in the romance, the part of the Little Douglas has been assignedto Roland Graeme. In another case, it would be tedious to point out in awork of amusement such minute points of historical fact; but thegeneral interest taken in the fate of Queen Mary, renders every thing ofconsequence which connects itself with her misfortunes. ]

  "I knew," said Mary, drawing her breath more freely, as they were nowout of reach of the musketry--"I knew my squire's truth, promptitude,and sagacity.--I must have him my dear friends--with my no less trueknights, Douglas and Seyton--but where, then, is Douglas?"

  "Here, madam," answered the deep and melancholy voice of the boatman whosat next her, and who acted as steersman.

  "Alas! was it you who stretched your body before me," said the Queen,"when the balls were raining around us?"

  "Believe you," said he, in a low tone, "that Douglas would have resignedto any one the chance of protecting his Queen's life with his own?"

  The dialogue was here interrupted by a shot or two from one of thosesmall pieces of artillery called falconets, then used in defendingcastles. The shot was too vague to have any effect, but the broaderflash, the deeper sound, the louder return which was made by themidnight echoes of Bennarty, terrified and imposed silence on theliberated prisoners. The boat was alongside of a rude quay or landingplace, running out from a garden of considerable extent, ere any ofthem again attempted to speak. They landed, and while the Abbot returnedthanks aloud to Heaven,--which had thus far favoured their enterprise,Douglas enjoyed the best reward of his desperate undertaking, inconducting the Queen to the house of the gardener.

  Yet, not unmindful of Roland Graeme even in that moment of terror andexhaustion, Mary expressly commanded Seyton to give his assistance toFleming, while Catherine voluntarily, and without bidding, took the armof the page. Seyton presently resigned Lady Fleming to the care of theAbbot, alleging, he must look after their horses; and his attendants,disencumbering themselves of their boat-cloaks, hastened to assist him.

  While Mary spent in the gardener's cottage the few minutes which werenecessary to prepare the steeds for their departure, she perceived, ina corner, the old man to whom the garden belonged, and called him toapproach. He came as it were with reluctance.

  "How, brother," said the Abbot, "so slow to welcome thy royal Queen andmistress to liberty and to her kingdom!"

  The old man, thus admonished, came forward, and, in good terms ofspeech, gave her Grace joy of her deliverance. The Queen returned himthanks in the most gracious manner, and added, "It will remain to usto offer some immediate reward for your fidelity, for we wot well yourhouse has been long the refuge in which our trusty servants have metto concert measures for our freedom." So saying, she offered gold, andadded, "We will consider your services more fully hereafter."

  "Kneel, brother," said the Abbot, "kneel instantly, and thank herGrace's kindness."

  "Good brother, that wert once a few steps under me, and art stillmany years younger," replied the gardener, pettishly, "let me do mineacknowledgments in my own way. Queens have knelt to me ere now, and intruth my knees are too old and stiff to bend even to this lovely-facedlady. May it please your Grace, if your Grace's servants have occupiedmy house, so that I could not call it mine own--if they have troddendown my flowers in the zeal of their midnight comings and goings, anddestroyed the hope of the fruit season, by bringing their war-horsesinto my garden, I do but crave of your Grace in requital, that you willchoose your residence as far from me as possible. I am an old manwho would willingly creep to my grave as easily as I can, in peace,good-will, and quiet labour."

  "I promise you fairly, good man," said the Queen, "I will not makeyonder castle my residence again, if I can help it. But let me press onyou this money--it will make some amends for the havoc we have made inyour little garden and orchard."

  "I thank your Grace, but it will make me not the least amends," said theold man. "The ruined labours of a whole year are not s
o easily replacedto him who has perchance but that one year to live; and besides, theytell me I must leave this place and become a wanderer in mine old age--Ithat have nothing on earth saving these fruit-trees, and a few oldparchments and family secrets not worth knowing. As for gold, if I hadloved it, I might have remained Lord Abbot of St. Mary's--and yet, Iwot not--for, if Abbot Boniface be but the poor peasant Blinkhoolie, hissuccessor, the Abbot Ambrosius, is still transmuted for the worse intothe guise of a sword-and-buckler-man."

  "Is this indeed the Abbot Boniface of whom I have heard?" said theQueen. "It is indeed I who should have bent the knee for your blessing,good Father."

  "Bend no knee to me, Lady! The blessing of an old man, who is no longeran Abbot, go with you over dale and down--I hear the trampling of yourhorses."

  "Farewell, Father," said the Queen. "When we are once more seated atHolyrood, we will neither forget thee nor thine injured garden."

  "Forget us both," said the Ex-Abbot Boniface, "and may God be with you!"

  As they hurried out of the house, they heard the old man talking andmuttering to himself, as he hastily drew bolt and bar behind them.

  "The revenge of the Douglasses will reach the poor old man," said theQueen. "God help me, I ruin every one whom I approach!"

  "His safety is cared for," said Seyton; "he must not remain here, butwill be privately conducted to a place of greater security. But I wouldyour Grace were in the saddle.--To horse! to horse!"

  The party of Seyton and of Douglas were increased to about ten by thoseattendants who had remained with the horses. The Queen and her ladies,with all the rest who came from the boat, were instantly mounted; andholding aloof from the village, which was already alarmed by the firingfrom the castle, with Douglas acting as their guide, they soon reachedthe open ground and began to ride as fast as was consistent with keepingtogether in good order.