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The Abbot

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Dame Mary Fleming's sense of dignity, and love of form, could not
resist this affectionate appeal. She kissed Catherine Seyton in her
turn affectionately; while, answering the last part of her speech, she
said, "Now Our Lady forbid, dear Catherine, that you should lose aught
that is beseeming of what becomes so well your light heart and lively
humour. Keep but your sharp wit on this side of madness, and it cannot
but be a blessing to us. But let me go, mad wench--I hear her Grace
touch her silver call." And, extricating herself from Catherine's
grasp, she went towards the door of Queen Mary's apartment, from which
was heard the low tone of a silver whistle, which, now only used by
the boatswains in the navy, was then, for want of bells, the ordinary
mode by which ladies, even of the very highest rank, summoned their
domestics. When she had made two or three steps towards the door,
however, she turned back, and advancing to the young couple whom she
left together, she said, in a very serious though a low tone, "I trust
it is impossible that we can, any of us, or in any circumstances,
forget, that, few as we are, we form the household of the Queen of
Scotland; and that, in her calamity, all boyish mirth and childish
jesting can only serve to give a great triumph to her enemies, who
have already found their account in objecting to her the lightness of
every idle folly, that the young and the gay practised in her court."
So saying, she left the apartment.

Catherine Seyton seemed much struck with this remonstrance--She
suffered herself to drop into the seat which she had quitted when she
went to embrace Dame Mary Fleming, and for some time rested her brow
upon her hands; while Roland Graeme looked at her earnestly, with a
mixture of emotions which perhaps he himself could neither have
analysed nor explained. As she raised her face slowly from the posture
to which a momentary feeling of self-rebuke had depressed it, her eyes
encountered those of Roland, and became gradually animated with their
usual spirit of malicious drollery, which not unnaturally excited a
similar expression in those of the equally volatile page. They sat for
the space of two minutes, each looking at the other with great
seriousness on their features, and much mirth in their eyes, until at
length Catherine was the first to break silence.

"May I pray you, fair sir," she began, very demurely, "to tell me what
you see in my face to arouse looks so extremely sagacious and knowing
as those with which it is your worship's pleasure to honour me? It
would seem as if there were some wonderful confidence and intimacy
betwixt us, fair sir, if one is to judge from your extremely cunning
looks; and so help me, Our Lady, as I never saw you but twice in my
life before."

"And where were those happy occasions," said Roland, "if I may be
bold enough to ask the question?"

"At the nunnery of St. Catherine's," said the damsel, "in the first
instance; and, in the second, during five minutes of a certain raid or
foray which it was your pleasure to make into the lodging of my lord
and father, Lord Seyton, from which, to my surprise, as probably to
your own, you returned with a token of friendship and favour, instead
of broken bones, which were the more probable reward of your
intrusion, considering the prompt ire of the house of Seyton. I am
deeply mortified," she added, ironically, "that your recollection
should require refreshment on a subject so important; and that my
memory should be stronger than yours on such an occasion, is truly
humiliating."

"Your own, memory is not so exactly correct, fair mistress," answered
the page, "seeing you have forgotten meeting the third, in the
hostelrie of St. Michael's, when it pleased you to lay your switch
across the face of my comrade, in order, I warrant, to show that, in
the house of Seyton, neither the prompt ire of its descendants, nor
the use of the doublet and hose, are subject to Salique law, or
confined to the use of the males."

"Fair sir," answered Catherine, looking at him with great steadiness,
and some surprise, "unless your fair wits have forsaken you, I am at a
loss what to conjecture of your meaning."

"By my troth, fair mistress," answered Roland, "and were I as wise a
warlock as Michael Scott, I could scarce riddle the dream you read me.
Did I not see you last night in the hostelrie of St. Michael's?--Did
you not bring me this sword, with command not to draw it save at the
command of my native and rightful Sovereign? And have I not done as
you required me? Or is the sword a piece of lath--my word a
bulrush--my memory a dream--and my eyes good for nought--espials which
corbies might pick out of my head?"

"And if your eyes serve you not more truly on other occasions than in
your vision of St. Michael," said Catherine, "I know not, the pain
apart, that the corbies would do you any great injury in the
deprivation--But hark, the bell--hush, for God's sake, we are
interrupted.--"

The damsel was right; for no sooner had the dull toll of the castle
bell begun to resound through the vaulted apartment, than the door of
the vestibule flew open, and the steward, with his severe countenance,
his gold chain, and his white rod, entered the apartment, followed by
the same train of domestics who had placed the dinner on the table,
and who now, with the same ceremonious formality, began to remove it.

The steward remained motionless as some old picture, while the
domestics did their office; and when it was accomplished, every thing
removed from the table, and the board itself taken from its tressels
and disposed against the wall, he said aloud, without addressing any
one in particular, and somewhat in the tone of a herald reading a
proclamation, "My noble lady, Dame Margaret Erskine, by marriage
Douglas, lets the Lady Mary of Scotland and her attendants to wit,
that a servant of the true evangele, her reverend chaplain, will
to-night, as usual, expound, lecture, and catechise, according to the
forms of the congregation of gospellers."

"Hark you, my friend, Mr. Dryfesdale," said Catherine, "I understand
this announcement is a nightly form of yours. Now, I pray you to
remark, that the Lady Fleming and I--for I trust your insolent
invitation concerns us only--have chosen Saint Peter's pathway to
Heaven, so I see no one whom your godly exhortation, catechise, or
lecture, can benefit, excepting this poor page, who, being in Satan's
hand as well as yourself, had better worship with you than remain to
cumber our better-advised devotions."

The page was well-nigh giving a round denial to the assertions which
this speech implied, when, remembering what had passed betwixt him and
the Regent, and seeing Catherine's finger raised in a monitory
fashion, he felt himself, as on former occasions at the Castle of
Avenel, obliged to submit to the task of dissimulation, and followed
Dryfesdale down to the castle chapel, where he assisted in the
devotions of the evening.

The chaplain was named Elias Henderson. He was a man in the prime of
life, and possessed of good natural parts, carefully improved by the
best education which those times afforded. To these qualities were
added a faculty of close and terse reasoning; and, at intervals, a
flow of happy illustration and natural eloquence. The religious faith
of Roland Graeme, as we have already had opportunity to observe,
rested on no secure basis, but was entertained rather in obedience to
his grandmother's behests, and his secret desire to contradict the
chaplain of Avenel Castle, than from any fixed or steady reliance
which he placed on the Romish creed. His ideas had been of late
considerably enlarged by the scenes he had passed through; and feeling
that there was shame in not understanding something of those political
disputes betwixt the professors of the ancient and the reformed faith,
he listened with more attention than it had hitherto been in his
nature to yield on such occasions, to an animated discussion of some
of the principal points of difference betwixt the churches. So passed
away the first day in the Castle of Lochleven; and those which
followed it were, for some time, of a very monotonous and uniform
tenor.




Chapter the Twenty-Fourth.


'Tis a weary life this--
Vaults overhead, and grates and bars around me,
And my sad hours spent with as sad companions,
Whose thoughts are brooding: o'er their own mischances,
Far, far too deeply to take part in mine.
THE WOODSMAN.

The course of life to which Mary and her little retinue were doomed,
was in the last degree secluded and lonely, varied only as the weather
permitted or rendered impossible the Queen's usual walk in the garden
or on the battlements. The greater part of the morning she wrought
with her ladies at those pieces of needlework, many of which still
remain proofs of her indefatigable application. At such hours the page
was permitted the freedom of the castle and islet; nay, he was
sometimes invited to attend George Douglas when he went a-sporting
upon the lake, or on its margin; opportunities of diversion which were
only clouded by the remarkable melancholy which always seemed to brood
on that gentleman's brow, and to mark his whole demeanour,--a sadness
so profound, that Roland never observed him to smile, or to speak any
word unconnected with the immediate object of their exercise.

The most pleasant part of Roland's day, was the occasional space which
he was permitted to pass in personal attendance on the Queen and her
ladies, together with the regular dinner-time, which he always spent
with Dame Mary Fleming and Catharine Seyton. At these periods, he had
frequent occasion to admire the lively spirit and inventive
imagination of the latter damsel, who was unwearied in her
contrivances to amuse her mistress, and to banish, for a time at
least, the melancholy which preyed on her bosom. She danced, she sung,
she recited tales of ancient and modern times, with that heartfelt
exertion of talent, of which the pleasure lies not in the vanity of
displaying it to others, but in the enthusiastic consciousness that we
possess it ourselves. And yet these high accomplishments were mixed
with an air of rusticity and harebrained vivacity, which seemed rather
to belong to some village maid, the coquette of the ring around the
Maypole, than to the high-bred descendant of an ancient baron. A touch
of audacity, altogether short of effrontery, and far less approaching
to vulgarity, gave as it were a wildness to all that she did; and
Mary, while defending her from some of the occasional censures of her
grave companion, compared her to a trained singing-bird escaped from a
cage, which practises in all the luxuriance of freedom, and in full
possession of the greenwood bough, the airs which it had learned
during its earlier captivity.

The moments which the page was permitted to pass in the presence of
this fascinating creature, danced so rapidly away, that, brief as they
were, they compensated the weary dulness of all the rest of the day.
The space of indulgence, however, was always brief, nor were any
private interviews betwixt him and Catharine permitted, or even
possible. Whether it were some special precaution respecting the
Queen's household, or whether it were her general ideas of propriety,
Dame Fleming seemed particularly attentive to prevent the young people
from holding any separate correspondence together, and bestowed, for
Catharine's sole benefit in this matter, the full stock of prudence
and experience which she had acquired, when mother of the Queen's
maidens of honour, and by which she had gained their hearty hatred.
Casual meetings, however, could not be prevented, unless Catherine had
been more desirous of shunning, or Roland Graeme less anxious in
watching for them. A smile, a gibe, a sarcasm, disarmed of its
severity by the arch look with which it was accompanied, was all that
time permitted to pass between them on such occasions. But such
passing interviews neither afforded means nor opportunity to renew the
discussion of the circumstances attending their earlier acquaintance,
nor to permit Roland to investigate more accurately the mysterious
apparition of the page in the purple velvet cloak at the hostelrie of
Saint Michael's.

The winter months slipped heavily away, and spring was already
advanced, when Roland Graeme observed a gradual change in the manners
of his fellow-prisoners. Having no business of his own to attend to,
and being, like those of his age, education, and degree, sufficiently
curious concerning what passed around, he began by degrees to suspect,
and finally to be convinced, that there was something in agitation
among his companions in captivity, to which they did not desire that
he should be privy. Nay, he became almost certain that, by some means
unintelligible to him, Queen Mary held correspondence beyond the walls
and waters which surrounded her prison-house, and that she nourished
some secret hope of deliverance or escape. In the conversations
betwixt her and her attendants, at which he was necessarily present,
the Queen could not always avoid showing that she was acquainted with
the events which were passing abroad in the world, and which he only
heard through her report. He observed that she wrote more and worked
less than had been her former custom, and that, as if desirous to lull
suspicion asleep, she changed her manner towards the Lady Lochleven
into one more gracious, and which seemed to express a resigned
submission to her lot. "They think I am blind," he said to himself,
"and that I am unfit to be trusted because I am so young, or it may be
because I was sent hither by the Regent. Well!--be it so--they may be
glad to confide in me in the long run; and Catherine Seyton, for as
saucy as she is, may find me as safe a confidant as that sullen
Douglas, whom she is always running after. It may be they are angry
with me for listening to Master Elias Henderson; but it was their own
fault for sending me there, and if the man speaks truth and good
sense, and preaches only the word of God, he is as likely to be right
as either Pope or Councils."

It is probable that in this last conjecture, Roland Graeme had hit
upon the real cause why the ladies had not intrusted him with their
councils. He had of late had several conferences with Henderson on the
subject of religion, and had given him to understand that he stood in
need of his instructions, although he had not thought there was either
prudence or necessity for confessing that hitherto he had held the
tenets of the Church of Rome.

Elias Henderson, a keen propagator of the reformed faith, had sought
the seclusion of Lochleven Castle, with the express purpose and
expectation of making converts from Rome amongst the domestics of the
dethroned Queen, and confirming the faith of those who already held
the Protestant doctrines. Perhaps his hopes soared a little higher,
and he might nourish some expectation of a proselyte more
distinguished in the person of the deposed Queen. But the pertinacity
with which she and her female attendants refused to see or listen to
him, rendered such hope, if he nourished it, altogether abortive.

The opportunity, therefore, of enlarging the religious information of
Roland Graeme, and bringing him to a more due sense of his duties to
Heaven, was hailed by the good man as a door opened by Providence for
the salvation of a sinner. He dreamed not, indeed, that he was
converting a Papist, but such was the ignorance which Roland displayed
upon some material points of the reformed doctrine, that Master
Henderson, while praising his docility to the Lady Lochleven and her
grandson, seldom failed to add, that his venerable brother, Henry
Warden, must be now decayed in strength and in mind, since he found a
catechumen of his flock so ill-grounded in the principles of his
belief. For this, indeed, Roland Graeme thought it was unnecessary to
assign the true reason, which was his having made it a point of honour
to forget all that Henry Warden taught him, as soon as he was no
longer compelled to read it over as a lesson acquired by rote. The
lessons of his new instructor, if not more impressively delivered,
were received by a more willing ear, and a more awakened
understanding, and the solitude of Lochleven Castle was favourable to
graver thoughts than the page had hitherto entertained. He wavered
yet, indeed, as one who was almost persuaded; but his attention to the
chaplain's instructions procured him favour even with the stern old
dame herself; and he was once or twice, but under great precaution,
permitted to go to the neighbouring village of Kinross, situated on
the mainland, to execute some ordinary commission of his unfortunate
mistress.

For some time Roland Graeme might be considered as standing neuter
betwixt the two parties who inhabited the water-girdled Tower of
Lochleven; but, as he rose in the opinion of the Lady of the Castle
and her chaplain, he perceived, with great grief, that he lost ground
in that of Mary and her female allies.

He came gradually to be sensible that he was regarded as a spy upon
their discourse, and that, instead of the ease with which they had
formerly conversed in his presence, without suppressing any of the
natural feelings of anger, of sorrow, or mirth, which the chance topic
of the moment happened to call forth, their talk was now guardedly
restricted to the most indifferent subjects, and a studied reserve
observed even in their mode of treating these. This obvious want of
confidence was accompanied with a correspondent change in their
personal demeanor towards the unfortunate page. The Queen, who had at
first treated him with marked courtesy, now scarce spoke to him, save
to convey some necessary command for her service. The Lady Fleming
restricted her notice to the most dry and distant expressions of
civility, and Catherine Seyton became bitter in her pleasantries, and
shy, cross, and pettish, in any intercourse they had together. What
was yet more provoking, he saw, or thought he saw, marks of
intelligence betwixt George Douglas and the beautiful Catherine
Seyton; and, sharpened by jealousy, he wrought himself almost into a
certainty, that the looks which they exchanged, conveyed matters of
deep and serious import. "No wonder," he thought, "if, courted by the
son of a proud and powerful baron, she can no longer spare a word or
look to the poor fortuneless page."

In a word, Roland Graeme's situation became truly disagreeable, and
his heart naturally enough rebelled against the injustice of this
treatment, which deprived him of the only comfort which he had
received for submitting to a confinement in other respects irksome. He
accused Queen Mary and Catherine Seyton (for concerning the opinion of
Dame Fleming he was indifferent) of inconsistency in being displeased
with him on account of the natural consequences of an order of their
own. Why did they send him to hear this overpowering preacher? The
Abbot Ambrosius, he recollected, understood the weakness of their
Popish cause better, when he enjoined him to repeat within his own
mind, _aves_, and _credos_, and _paters_, all the while
old Henry Warden preached or lectured, that so he might secure himself
against lending even a momentary ear to his heretical doctrine. "But I
will endure this life no longer," said he to himself, manfully; "do
they suppose I would betray my mistress, because I see cause to doubt
of her religion?--that would be a serving, as they say, the devil for
God's sake. I will forth into the world--he that serves fair ladies,
may at least expect kind looks and kind words; and I bear not the mind
of a gentleman, to submit to cold treatment and suspicion, and a
life-long captivity besides. I will speak to George Douglas to-morrow
when we go out a-fishing."

A sleepless night was spent in agitating this magnanimous resolution,
and he arose in the morning not perfectly decided in his own mind
whether he should abide by it or not. It happened that he was summoned
by the Queen at an unusual hour, and just as he was about to go out
with George Douglas. He went to attend her commands in, the garden;
but as he had his angling-rod in his hand, the circumstance announced
his previous intention, and the Queen, turning to the Lady Fleming,
said, "Catherine must devise some other amusement for us, _ma bonnie
amie_; our discreet page has already made his party for the day's
pleasure."

"I said from the beginning," answered the Lady Fleming, "that your
Grace ought not to rely on being favoured with the company of a youth
who has so many Huguenot acquaintances, and has the means of amusing
himself far more agreeably than with us."

"I wish," said Catherine, her animated features reddening with
mortification, "that his friends would sail away with him for good,
and bring us in return a page (if such a thing can be found) faithful
to his Queen and to his religion."

"One part of your wishes may be granted, madam," said Roland Graeme,
unable any longer to restrain his sense of the treatment which he
received on all sides; and he was about to add, "I heartily wish you a
companion in my room, if such can be found, who is capable of enduring
women's caprices without going distracted." Luckily, he recollected
the remorse which he had felt at having given way to the vivacity of
his temper upon a similar occasion; and, closing his lips, imprisoned,
until it died on his tongue, a reproach so misbecoming the presence of
majesty.

"Why do you remain there," said the Queen, "as if you were rooted to
the parterre?"

"I but attend your Grace's commands," said the page.

"I have none to give you--Begone, sir."

As he left the garden to go to the boat, he distinctly heard Mary
upbraid one of her attendants in these words:--"You see to what you
have exposed us!"

This brief scene at once determined Roland Graeme's resolution to quit
the castle, if it were possible, and to impart his resolution to
George Douglas without loss of time. That gentleman, in his usual mood
of silence, sate in the stern of the little skiff which they used on
such occasions, trimming his fishing-tackle, and, from time to time,
indicating by signs to Graeme, who pulled the oars, which way he
should row. When they were a furlong or two from the castle, Roland
rested on the oars, and addressed his companion somewhat abruptly,--"I
have something of importance to say to you, under your pleasure, fair
sir."

The pensive melancholy of Douglas's countenance at once gave way to
the eager, keen, and startled look of one who expects to hear
something of deep and alarming import.

"I am wearied to the very death of this Castle of Lochleven,"
continued Roland.

"Is that all?" said Douglas; "I know none of its inhabitants who are
much better pleased with it."

"Ay, but I am neither a native of the house, nor a prisoner in it, and
so I may reasonably desire to leave it."

"You might desire to quit it with equal reason," answered Douglas, "if
you were both the one and the other."

"But," said Roland Graeme, "I am not only tired of living in Lochleven
Castle, but I am determined to quit it."

"That is a resolution more easily taken than executed," replied
Douglas.

"Not if yourself, sir, and your Lady Mother, choose to consent,"
answered the page.

"You mistake the matter, Roland," said Douglas; "you will find that
the consent of two other persons is equally essential--that of the
Lady Mary your mistress, and that of my uncle the Regent, who placed
you about her person, and who will not think it proper that she should
change her attendants so soon."

"And must I then remain whether I will or no?" demanded the page,
somewhat appalled at a view of the subject, which would have occurred
sooner to a person of more experience.

"At least," said George Douglas, "you must will to remain till my
uncle consents to dismiss you."

"Frankly," said the page, "and speaking to you as a gentleman who is
incapable of betraying me, I will confess, that if I thought myself a
prisoner here, neither walls nor water should confine me long."

"Frankly," said Douglas, "I could not much blame you for the attempt;
yet, for all that, my father, or uncle, or the earl, or any of my
brothers, or in short any of the king's lords into whose hands you
fell, would in such a case hang you like a dog, or like a sentinel who
deserts his post; and I promise you that you will hardly escape them.
But row towards Saint Serf's island--there is a breeze from the west,
and we shall have sport, keeping to windward of the isle, where the
ripple is strongest. We will speak more of what you have mentioned
when we have had an hour's sport."

Their fishing was successful, though never did two anglers pursue even
that silent and unsocial pleasure with less of verbal intercourse.

When their time was expired, Douglas took the oars in his turn, and by
his order Roland Graeme steered the boat, directing her course upon
the landing-place at the castle. But he also stopped in the midst of
his course, and, looking around him, said to Graeme, "There is a thing
which I could mention to thee; but it is so deep a secret, that even
here, surrounded as we are by sea and sky, without the possibility of
a listener, I cannot prevail on myself to speak it out."

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