Chapter the Twenty-Fourth.
I'll walk on tiptoe; arm my eye with caution, My heart with courage, and my hand with weapon, Like him who ventures on a lion's den. OLD PLAY.
When, issuing from the gorge of a pass which terminated upon the lake,the travellers came in sight of the ancient castle of Avenel, the oldman looked with earnest attention upon the scene before him. The castlewas, as we have said, in many places ruinous, as was evident, even atthis distance, by the broken, rugged, and irregular outline of the wallsand of the towers. In others it seemed more entire, and a pillar of darksmoke, which ascended from the chimneys of the donjon, and spreadits long dusky pennon through the clear ether, indicated that it wasinhabited. But no corn-fields or enclosed pasture-grounds on the sideof the lake showed that provident attention to comfort and subsistencewhich usually appeared near the houses of the greater, and even of thelesser barons. There were no cottages with their patches of infield, andtheir crofts and gardens, surrounded by rows of massive sycamores; nochurch with its simple tower in the valley; no herds of sheep amongthe hills; no cattle on the lower ground; nothing which intimated theoccasional prosecution of the arts of peace and of industry. It wasplain that the inhabitants, whether few or numerous, must be consideredas the garrison of the castle, living within its defended precincts, andsubsisting by means which were other than peaceful.
Probably it was with this conviction that the old man, gazing on thecastle, muttered to himself, "_Lapis offensionis et petra scandali!_"and then, turning to Halbert Glendinning, he added, "We may say ofyonder fort as King James did of another fastness in this province,that he who built it was a thief in his heart." [Footnote: It was ofLochwood, the hereditary fortress of the Johnstones of Aunandale, astrong castle situated in the centre of a quaking bog, that James VI.made this remark.]
"But it was not so," answered Glendinning; "yonder castle was builtby the old lords of Avenel, men as much beloved in peace as theywere respected in war. They were the bulwark of the frontiers againstforeigners, and the protectors of the natives from domestic oppression.The present usurper of their inheritance no more resembles them, thanthe night-prowling owl resembles a falcon, because she builds on thesame rock."
"This Julian Avenel, then, holds no high place in the love and regard ofhis neighbours?" said Warden.
"So little," answered Halbert, "that besides the jack-men and riderswith whom he has associated himself, and of whom he has many at hisdisposal, I know of few who voluntarily associate with him. He has beenmore than once outlawed both by England and Scotland, his lands declaredforfeited, and his head set at a price. But in these unquiet times, aman so daring as Julian Avenel has ever found some friends willing toprotect him against the penalties of the law, on condition of his secretservices."
"You describe a dangerous man," replied Warden.
"You may have experience of that," replied the youth, "if you dealnot the more warily;--though it may be that he also has forsaken thecommunity of the church, and gone astray in the path of heresy."
"What your blindness terms the path of heresy," answered the reformer,"is indeed the straight and narrow way, wherein he who walks turns notaside, whether for worldly wealth or for worldly passions. Would toGod this man were moved by no other and no worse spirit than that whichprompts my poor endeavours to extend the kingdom of Heaven! This Baronof Avenel is personally unknown to me, is not of our congregation or ofour counsel; yet I bear to him charges touching my safety, from thosewhom he must fear if he does not respect them, and upon that assurance Iwill venture upon his hold--I am now sufficiently refreshed by these fewminutes of repose."
"Take then this advice for your safety," said Halbert, "and believe thatit is founded upon the usage of this country and its inhabitants. If youcan better shift for yourself, go not to the Castle of Avenel--if you dorisk going thither, obtain from him, if possible, his safe conduct, andbeware that he swears it by the Black Rood--And lastly, observe whetherhe eats with you at the board, or pledges you in the cup; for if hegives you not these signs of welcome, his thoughts are evil towardsyou."
"Alas!" said the preacher, "I have no better earthly refuge for thepresent than these frowning towers, but I go thither trusting to aidwhich is not of this earth--But thou, good youth, needest thou trustthyself in this dangerous den?"
"I," answered Halbert, "am in no danger. I am well known to Christie ofthe Clinthill, the henchman of this Julian Avenel; and, what is a yetbetter protection, I have nothing either to provoke malice or to temptplunder."
The tramp of a steed, which clattered along the shingly banks of theloch, was now heard behind them; and, when they looked back, a rider wasvisible, his steel cap and the point of his long lance glancing in thesetting sun, as he rode rapidly towards them.
Halbert Glendinning soon recognized Christie of the Clinthill, and madehis companion aware that the henchman of Julian Avenel was approaching.
"Ha, youngling!" said Christie to Halbert, as he came up to them, "thouhast made good my word at last, and come to take service with my noblemaster, hast thou not? Thou shalt find a good friend and a true; andere Saint Barnaby come round again, thou shalt know every pass betwixtMillburn Plain and Netherby, as if thou hadst been born with a jackon thy back, and a lance in thy hand.--What old carle hast thou withthee?--He is not of the brotherhood of Saint Mary's--at least he hasnot the buist [Footnote: _Buist_--The brand, or mark, set upon sheep orcattle, by their owners.] of these black cattle."
"He is a wayfaring man," said Halbert, "who has concerns with Julian ofAvenel. For myself, I intend to go to Edinburgh to see the court and theQueen, and when I return hither we will talk of your proffer. Meantime,as thou hast often invited me to the castle, I crave hospitality thereto-night for myself and my companion."
"For thyself and welcome, young comrade," replied Christie; "but weharbour no pilgrims, nor aught that looks like a pilgrim."
"So please you," said Warden, "I have letters of commendation to thymaster from a sure friend, whom he will right willingly oblige in highermatters than in affording me a brief protection.--And I am no pilgrim,but renounce the same, with all its superstitious observances." Heoffered his letters to the horseman, who shook his head.
"These," he said, "are matters for my master, and it will be well if hecan read them himself; for me, sword and lance are my book and psalter,and have been since I was twelve years old. But I will guide you to thecastle, and the Baron of Avenel will himself judge of your errand."
By this time the party had reached the causeway, along which Christieadvanced at a trot, intimating his presence to the warders within thecastle by a shrill and peculiar whistle. At this signal the fartherdrawbridge was lowered. The horseman passed it, and disappeared underthe gloomy portal which was beyond it.
Glendinning and his companion advancing more leisurely along the ruggedcauseway, stood at length under the same gateway, over which frowned,in dark red freestone, the ancient armorial bearings of the house ofAvenel, which represented a female figure shrouded and muffled, whichoccupied the whole field. The cause of their assuming so singular adevice was uncertain, but the figure was generally supposed to representthe mysterious being called the White Lady of Avenel. [Footnote: Thereis an ancient English family, I believe, which bears, or did bear, aghost or spirit passant sable in a field argent. This seems to have beena device of a punning or _canting_ herald.] The sight of this moulderingshield awakened in the mind of Halbert the strange circumstances whichhad connected his fate with that of Mary Avenel, and with the doings ofthe spiritual being who was attached to her house, and whom he sawhere, represented in stone, as he had before seen her effigy uponthe seal-ring of Walter Avenel, which, with other trinkets formerlymentioned, had been saved from pillage, and brought to Glendearg, whenMary's mother was driven from her habitation.
"You sigh, my son," said the old man, observing the impression made onhis youthful companion's countenance, but mistaking the cause; "if youfear to enter, we m
ay yet return."
"That can ye not," said Christie of the Clinthill, who emerged at thatinstant from the side-door under the archway. "Look yonder, and choosewhether you will return skimming the water like a wild-duck, or wingingthe air like a plover."
They looked, and saw that the drawbridge which they had just crossed wasagain raised, and now interposed its planks betwixt the setting sun andthe portal of the castle, deepening the gloom of the arch under whichthey stood. Christie laughed and bid them follow him, saying, by way ofencouragement, in Halbert's ear, "Answer boldly and readily to whateverthe Baron asks you. Never stop to pick your words, and above all show nofear of him--the devil is not so black as he is painted."
As he spoke thus, he introduced them into the large stone hall, at theupper end of which blazed a huge fire of wood. The long oaken table,which, as usual, occupied the midst of the apartment, was coveredwith rude preparations for the evening meal of the Baron and his chiefdomestics, five or six of whom, strong, athletic, savage-looking men,paced up and down the lower end of the hall, which rang to the jarringclang of their long swords that clashed as they moved, and to the heavytramp of their high-heeled jack-boots. Iron jacks, or coats of buff,formed the principal part of their dress, and steel-bonnets, or largeslouched hats with Spanish plumes drooping backwards, were their headattire.
The Baron of Avenel was one of those tall, muscular, martial figures,which are the favourite subjects of Salvator Rosa. He wore a cloakwhich had been once gaily trimmed, but which, by long wear andfrequent exposure to the weather, was now faded in its colours. Thrownnegligently about his tall person, it partly hid, and partly showed, ashort doublet of buff, under which was in some places visible that lightshirt of mail which was called a _secret_, because worn instead of moreostensible armour to protect against private assassination. A leathernbelt sustained a large and heavy sword on one side, and on the otherthat gay poniard which had once called Sir Piercie Shafton master, ofwhich the hatchments and gildings were already much defaced, either byrough usage or neglect.
Notwithstanding the rudeness of his apparel, Julian Avenel's mannerand countenance had far more elevation than those of the attendantswho surrounded him. He might be fifty or upwards, for his dark hair wasmingled with gray, but age had neither tamed the fire of his eye nor theenterprise of his disposition. His countenance had been handsome, forbeauty was an attribute of the family; but the lines were roughened byfatigue and exposure to the weather, and rendered coarse by the habitualindulgence of violent passions.
He seemed in deep and moody reflection, and was pacing at a distancefrom his dependents along the upper end of the hall, sometimes stoppingfrom time to time to caress and feed a gos-hawk, which sat upon hiswrist, with its jesses (_i. e._ the leathern straps fixed to its legs)wrapt around his hand. The bird, which seemed not insensible to itsmaster's attention, answered his caresses by ruffling forward itsfeathers, and pecking playfully at his finger. At such intervalsthe Baron smiled, but instantly resumed the darksome air of sullenmeditation. He did not even deign to look upon an object, which fewcould have passed and repassed so often without bestowing on it atransient glance.
This was a woman of exceeding beauty, rather gaily than richly attired,who sat on a low seat close by the huge hall chimney. The gold chainsround her neck and arms,--the gay gown of green which swept thefloor,--the silver embroidered girdle, with its bunch of keys, dependingin house-wifely pride by a silver chain,--the yellow silken _couvrechef_(Scottice, _curch_) which was disposed around her head, and partlyconcealed her dark profusion of hair,--above all, the circumstance sodelicately touched in the old ballad, that "the girdle was too short,"the "gown of green all too strait," for the wearer's present shape,would have intimated the Baron's lady. But then the lowly seat,--theexpression of deep melancholy, which was changed into a timid smilewhenever she saw the least chance of catching the eye of JulianAvenel,--the subdued look of grief, and the starting tear for whichthat constrained smile was again exchanged when she saw herself entirelydisregarded,--these were not the attributes of a wife, or they werethose of a dejected and afflicted female, who had yielded her love onless than legitimate terms.
Julian Avenel, as we have said, continued to pace the hall withoutpaying any of that mute attention which is rendered to almost everyfemale either by affection or courtesy. He seemed totally unconscious ofher presence, or of that of his attendants, and was only roused fromhis own dark reflections by the notice he paid to the falcon, to which,however, the lady seemed to attend, as if studying to find eitheran opportunity of speaking to the Baron, or of finding somethingenigmatical in the expressions which he used to the bird. All this thestrangers had time enough to remark; for no sooner had they entered theapartment than their usher, Christie of the Clinthill, after exchanginga significant glance with the menials or troopers at the lower end ofthe apartment, signed to Halbert Glendinning and to his companion tostand still near the door, while he himself, advancing nearer the table,placed himself in such a situation as to catch the Baron's observationwhen he should be disposed to look around, but without presuming tointrude himself on his master's notice. Indeed, the look of this man,naturally bold, hardy, and audacious, seemed totally changed when hewas in presence of his master, and resembled the dejected and coweringmanner of a quarrelsome dog when rebuked by his owner, or when he findshimself obliged to deprecate the violence of a superior adversary of hisown species.
In spite of the novelty of his own situation, and every painful feelingconnected with it, Halbert felt his curiosity interested in the female,who sate by the chimney unnoticed and unregarded. He marked with whatkeen and trembling solicitude she watched the broken words of Julian,and how her glance stole towards him, ready to be averted upon theslightest chance of his perceiving himself to be watched.
Meantime he went on with his dalliance with his feathered favourite, nowgiving, now withholding, the morsel with which he was about to feed thebird, and so exciting its appetite and gratifying it by turns. "What!more yet?--thou foul kite, thou wouldst never have done--give thee partthou wilt have all--Ay, prune thy feathers, and prink thyself gay--muchthou wilt make of it now--dost think I know thee not?--dost think I seenot that all that ruffling and pluming of wing and feathers is notfor thy master, but to try what thou canst make of him, thou greedygled?--well--there--take it then, and rejoice thyself--little boon goesfar with thee, and with all thy sex--and so it should."
He ceased to look on the bird, and again traversed the apartment. Thentaking another small piece of raw meat from the trencher, on which itwas placed ready cut for his use, he began once again to tempt and teasethe bird, by offering and withdrawing it, until he awakened its wild andbold disposition. "What! struggling, fluttering, aiming at me with beakand single? [Footnote: In the _kindly_ language of hawking, as LadyJuliana Berners terms it, hawks' talons are called their _singles_]So la! So la! wouldst mount? wouldst fly? the jesses are round thyclutches, fool--thou canst neither stir nor soar but by my will--Bewarethou come to reclaim, wench, else I will wring thy head off one of thesedays--Well, have it then, and well fare thou with it.--So ho, Jenkin!"One of the attendants stepped forward--"Take the foul gled hence tothe mew--or, stay; leave her, but look well to her casting and to herbathing--we will see her fly to-morrow.--How now, Christie, so soonreturned?"
Christie advanced to his master, and gave an account of himself and hisjourney, in the way in which a police-officer holds communication withhis magistrate, that is, as much by signs as by words.
"Noble sir," said that worthy satellite, "the Laird of--," he named noplace, but pointed with his finger in a south-western direction,--"may not ride with you the day he purposed, because the Lord Warden hasthreatened that he will--"
Here another blank, intelligibly enough made up by the speaker touchinghis own neck with his left fore-finger, and leaning his head a little toone side.
"Cowardly caitiff!" said Julian; "by Heaven! the whole world turns sheernaught--it is not worth a brave man's living in--ye may
ride a day andnight, and never see a feather wave or hear a horse prance--the spiritof our fathers is dead amongst us--the very brutes are degenerated--thecattle we bring at our life's risk are mere carrion--our hawks areriflers [Footnote: So called when they only caught their prey by thefeathers.]--our hounds are turnspits and trindle-tails--our men arewomen--and our women are--"
He looked at the female for the first time, and stopped short inthe midst of what he was about to say, though there was something socontemptuous in the glance, that the blank might have been thus filledup--"Our women are such as she is."
He said it not, however, and as if desirous of attracting his attentionat all risks, and in whatever manner, she rose and came forward to him,but with a timorousness ill-disguised by affected gaiety.--"Our women,Julian--what would you say of the women?"
"Nothing," answered Julian Avenel, "at least nothing but that they arekind-hearted wenches like thyself, Kate." The female coloured deeply,and returned to her seat.--"And what strangers hast thou brought withthee, Christie, that stand yonder like two stone statues?" said theBaron.
"The taller," answered Christie, "is, so please you, a young fellowcalled Halbert Glendinning, the eldest son of the old widow atGlendearg."
"What brings him here?" said the Baron; "hath he any message from MaryAvenel?"
"Not as I think," said Christie; "the youth is roving the country--hewas always a wild slip, for I have known him since he was the height ofmy sword."
"What qualities hath he?" said the Baron.
"All manner of qualities," answered his follower--"he can strike a buck,track a deer, fly a hawk, halloo to a hound--he shoots in the longand crossbow to a hair's breadth--wields a lance or sword like myselfnearly--backs a horse manfully and fairly--I wot not what more a manneed to do to make him a gallant companion."
"And who," said the Baron, "is the old miser [Footnote: Miser, used inthe sense in which it often occurs in Spenser, and which is indeed itsliteral import--"wretched old man."] who stands beside him?"
"Some cast of a priest as I fancy--he says he is charged with letters toyou."
"Bid them come forward," said the Baron; and no sooner had theyapproached him more nearly, than, struck by the fine form and strengthdisplayed by Halbert Glendinning, he addressed him thus: "I am told,young Swankie, that you are roaming the world to seek your fortune,--ifyou will serve Julian Avenel, you may find it without going farther."
"So please you," answered Glendinning, "something has chanced to me thatmakes it better I should leave this land, and I am bound for Edinburgh."
"What!--thou hast stricken some of the king's deer, I warrant,--orlightened the meadows of Saint Mary's of some of their beeves--or thouhast taken a moonlight leap over the border?"
"No, sir," said Halbert, "my case is entirely different."
"Then I warrant thee," said the Baron, "thou hast stabbed some brotherchurl in a fray about a wench--thou art a likely lad to wrangle in sucha cause."
Ineffably disgusted at his tone and manner, Halbert Glendinning remainedsilent, while the thought darted across his mind, what would JulianAvenel have said, had he known the quarrel of which he spoke so lightly,had arisen on account of his own brother's daughter! "But be thy causeof flight what it will," said Julian, in continuation, "dost thou thinkthe law or its emissaries can follow thee into this island, or arrestthee under the standard of Avenel?--Look at the depth of the lake, thestrength of the walls, the length of the causeway--look at my men,and think if they are likely to see a comrade injured, or if I, theirmaster, am a man to desert a faithful follower, in good or evil. I tellthee it shall be an eternal day of truce betwixt thee and justice,as they call it, from the instant thou hast put my colours into thycap--thou shalt ride by the Warden's nose as thou wouldst pass an oldmarket-woman, and ne'er a cur which follows him shall dare to bay atthee!"
"I thank you for your offers, noble sir," replied Halbert, "but I mustanswer in brief, that I cannot profit by them--my fortunes lead meelsewhere."
"Thou art a self-willed fool for thy pains," said Julian, turning fromhim; and signing Christie to approach, he whispered in his ear, "thereis promise in that young fellow's looks, Christie, and we want men oflimbs and sinews so compacted--those thou hast brought to me of late arethe mere refuse of mankind, wretches scarce worth the arrow that endsthem: this youngster is limbed like Saint George. Ply him with wine andwassail--let the wenches weave their meshes about him like spiders--thouunderstandest?" Christie gave a sagacious nod of intelligence, and fellback to a respectful distance from his master.--"And thou, old man,"said the Baron, turning to the elder traveller, "hast thou been roamingthe world after fortune too?--it seems not she has fallen into thy way."
"So please you," replied Warden, "I were perhaps more to be pitied thanI am now, had I indeed met with that fortune, which, like others, I havesought in my greener days."
"Nay, understand me, friend," said the Baron; "if thou art satisfiedwith thy buckram gown and long staff, I also am well content thoushouldst be as poor and contemptible as is good for the health of thybody and soul--All I care to know of thee is, the cause which hathbrought thee to my castle, where few crows of thy kind care to settle.Thou art, I warrant thee, some ejected monk of a suppressed convent,paying in his old days the price of the luxurious idleness in which hespent his youth.--Ay, or it may be some pilgrim with a budget of liesfrom Saint James of Compostella, or Our Lady of Loretto; or thou mayestbe some pardoner with his budget of relics from Rome, forgiving sins ata penny a-dozen, and one to the tale.--Ay, I guess why I find thee inthis boy's company, and doubtless thou wouldst have such a strapping ladas he to carry thy wallet, and relieve thy lazy shoulders; but by themass I will cross thy cunning. I make my vow to sun and moon, I willnot see a proper lad so misleard as to run the country with an old knavelike Simmie and his brother. [Footnote: Two _quaestionarii_, or beggingfriars, whose accoutrements and roguery make the subject of an oldScottish satirical poem] Away with thee!" he added, rising in wrath,and speaking so fast as to give no opportunity of answer, being probablydetermined to terrify the elder guest into an abrupt flight--"Away withthee, with thy clouted coat, scrip, and scallop-shell, or, by the nameof Avenel, I will have them loose the hounds on thee."
Warden waited with the greatest patience until Julian Avenel, astonishedthat the threats and violence of his language made no impression on him,paused in a sort of wonder, and said in a less imperious tone, "Why thefiend dost thou not answer me?"
"When you have done speaking," said Warden, in the same composed manner,"it will be full time to reply."
"Say on man, in the devil's name--but take heed--beg not here--were itbut for the rinds of cheese, the refuse of the rats, or a morsel that mydogs would turn from--neither a grain of meal, nor the nineteenth partof a gray groat, will I give to any feigned limmer of thy coat."
"It may be," answered Warden, "that you would have less quarrel with mycoat if you knew what it covers, I am neither a friar nor mendicant, andwould be right glad to hear thy testimony against these foul deceiversof God's church, and usurpers of his rights over the Christian flock,were it given in Christian charity."
"And who or what art thou, then," said Avenel, "that thou comest to thisBorder land, and art neither monk, nor soldier, nor broken man?"
"I am an humble teacher of the holy word," answered Warden. "This letterfrom a most noble person will speak why I am here at this present time."
He delivered the letter to the Baron, who regarded the seal with somesurprise, and then looked on the letter itself, which seemed to excitestill more. He then fixed his eyes on the stranger, and said, in amenacing tone, "I think thou darest not betray me or deceive me?"
"I am not the man to attempt either," was the concise reply.
Julian Avenel carried the letter to the window, where he perused, orat least attempted to peruse it more than once, often looking from thepaper and gazing on the stranger who had delivered it, as if he meant toread the purport of the missive in the face of th
e messenger. Julianat length called to the female,--"Catherine, bestir thee, and fetchme presently that letter which I bade thee keep ready at hand in thycasket, having no sure lockfast place of my own."
Catherine went with the readiness of one willing to be employed; andas she walked, the situation which requires a wider gown and a longergirdle, and in which woman claims from man a double portion of the mostanxious care, was still more visible than before. She soon returned withthe paper, and was rewarded with a cold--"I thank thee, wench; thou arta careful secretary."
This second paper he also perused and reperused more than once, andstill, as he read it, bent from time to time a wary and observant eyeupon Henry Warden. This examination and re-examination, though both theman and the place were dangerous, the preacher endured with the mostcomposed and steady countenance, seeming, under the eagle, or rather thevulture eye of the baron, as unmoved as under the gaze of an ordinaryand peaceful peasant. At length Julian Avenel folded both papers, andhaving put them into the pocket of his cloak, cleared his brow, and,coming forward, addressed his female companion. "Catherine," said he,"I have done this good man injustice, when I mistook him for one of thedrones of Rome. He is a preacher, Catherine--a preacher of the--the newdoctrine of the Lords of the Congregation."
"The doctrine of the blessed Scriptures," said the preacher, "purifiedfrom the devices of men."
"Sayest thou?" said Julian Avenel--"Well, thou mayest call it what thoulists; but to me it is recommended, because it flings off all thosesottish dreams about saints and angels and devils, and unhorses lazymonks that have ridden us so long, and spur-galled us so hard. Nomore masses and corpse-gifts--no more tithes and offerings to make menpoor--no more prayers or psalms to make men cowards-no more christeningsand penances, and confessions and marriages."
"So please you," said Henry Warden, "it is against the corruptions, notagainst the fundamental doctrines, of the church, which we desire torenovate, and not to abolish."
"Prithee, peace, man," said the Baron; "we of the laity care not whatyou set up, so you pull merrily down what stands in our way. Speciallyit suits well with us of the Southland fells; for it is our professionto turn the world upside down, and we live ever the blithest life whenthe downer side is uppermost."
Warden would have replied; but the Baron allowed him not time, strikingthe table with the hilt of his dagger, and crying out,--"Ha! youloitering knaves, bring our supper-meal quickly. See you not this holyman is exhausted for lack of food? heard ye ever of priest or preacherthat devoured not his five meals a-day?"
The attendants bustled to and fro, and speedily brought in several largesmoking platters filled with huge pieces of beef, boiled and roasted,but without any variety whatsoever; without vegetables, and almostwithout bread, though there was at the upper end a few oat-cakes in abasket. Julian Avenel made a sort of apology to Warden.
"You have been commended to our care, Sir Preacher, since that is yourstyle, by a person whom we highly honour."
"I am assured," said Warden, "that the most noble Lord--"
"Prithee, peace, man," said Avenel; "what need of naming names, so weunderstand each other? I meant but to speak in reference to your safetyand comfort, of which he desires us to be chary. Now, for your safety,look at my walls and water. But touching your comfort, we have nocorn of our own, and the meal-girnels of the south are less easilytransported than their beeves, seeing they have no legs to walk upon.But what though? a stoup of wine thou shalt have, and of the best--thoushalt sit betwixt Catherine and me at the board-end.--And, Christie, dothou look to the young springald, and call to the cellarer for a flagonof the best."
The Baron took his wonted place at the upper end of the board; hisCatherine sate down, and courteously pointed to a seat betwixt them fortheir reverend guest. But notwithstanding the influence both of hungerand fatigue, Henry Warden retained his standing posture.