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The Abbot

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"Our Lady help us in our need !" she replied; "how should I tell?--
unless we were to make our plaint to the Regent."

"Make our plaint to the devil," said Catherine impatiently, "and
accuse his dam at the foot of his burning throne!--The Queen still
sleeps--we must gain time. The poisoning hag must not know her scheme
has miscarried; the old envenomed spider has but too many ways of
mending her broken web. The jar of succory-water," said she--"Roland,
if thou be'st a man, help me--empty the jar on the chimney or from the
window--make such waste among the viands as if we had made our usual
meal, and leave the fragments on cup and porringer, but taste nothing
as thou lovest thy life. I will sit by the Queen, and tell her at her
waking, in what a fearful pass we stand. Her sharp wit and ready
spirit will teach us what is best to be done. Meanwhile, till farther
notice, observe, Roland, that the Queen is in a state of torpor--that
Lady Fleming is indisposed--that character" (speaking in a lower tone)
"will suit her best, and save her wits some labour in vain. I am not
so much indisposed, thou understandest."

"And I?" said the page--

"You?" replied Catherine, "you are quite well--who thinks it worth
while to poison puppy-dogs or pages?"

"Does this levity become the time?" asked the page.

"It does, it does," answered Catherine Seyton; "if the Queen approves,
I see plainly how this disconcerted attempt may do us good service."

She went to work while she spoke, eagerly assisted by Roland. The
breakfast table soon displayed the appearance as if the meal had been
eaten as usual; and the ladies retired as softly as possible into the
Queen's sleeping apartment. At a new summons of the Lady Lochleven,
the page undid the door, and admitted her into the anteroom, asking
her pardon for having withstood her, alleging in excuse, that the
Queen had fallen into a heavy slumber since she had broken her fast.

"She has eaten and drunken, then?" said the Lady of Lochleven.

"Surely," replied the page, "according to her Grace's ordinary custom,
unless upon the fasts of the church."

"The jar," she said, hastily examining it, "it is empty--drank the
Lady Mary the whole of this water?"

"A large part, madam; and I heard the Lady Catherine Seyton jestingly
upbraid the Lady Mary Fleming with having taken more than a just share
of what remained, so that but little fell to her own lot."

"And are they well in health?" said the Lady of Lochleven.

"Lady Fleming," said the page, "complains of lethargy, and looks
duller than usual; and the Lady Catherine of Seyton feels her head
somewhat more giddy than is her wont."

He raised his voice a little as he said these words, to apprise the
ladies of the part assigned to each of them, and not, perhaps, without
the wish of conveying to the ears of Catherine the page-like jest
which lurked in the allotment.

"I will enter the Queen's bedchamber," said the Lady of Lochleven; "my
business is express."

As she advanced to the door, the voice of Catherine Seyton was heard
from within--"No one can enter here--the Queen sleeps."

"I will not be controlled, young lady," replied the Lady of Lochleven;
"there is, I wot, no inner bar, and I will enter in your despite."

"There is, indeed, no inner bar," answered Catherine, firmly, "but
there are the staples where that bar should be; and into those staples
have I thrust mine arm, like an ancestress of your own, when, better
employed than the Douglasses of our days, she thus defended the
bedchamber of her sovereign against murderers. Try your force, then,
and see whether a Seyton cannot rival in courage a maiden of the house
of Douglas."

"I dare not attempt the pass at such risk," said the Lady of
Lochleven: "Strange, that this Princess, with all that justly attaches
to her as blameworthy, should preserve such empire over the minds of
her attendants.--Damsel, I give thee my honour that I come for the
Queen's safety and advantage. Awaken her, if thou lovest her, and pray
her leave that I may enter--I will retire from the door the whilst."

"Thou wilt not awaken the Queen?" said the Lady Fleming.

"What choice have we?" said the ready-witted maiden, "unless you deem
it better to wait till the Lady Lochleven herself plays lady of the
bedchamber. Her fit of patience will not last long, and the Queen must
be prepared to meet her."

"But thou wilt bring back her Grace's fit by thus disturbing her."

"Heaven forbid!" replied Catherine; "but if so, it must pass for an
effect of the poison. I hope better things, and that the Queen will be
able when she wakes to form her own judgment in this terrible crisis.
Meanwhile, do thou, dear Lady Fleming, practise to look as dull and
heavy as the alertness of thy spirit will permit."

Catherine kneeled by the side of the Queen's bed, and, kissing her
hand repeatedly, succeeded at last in awakening without alarming her.
She seemed surprised to find that she was ready dressed, but sate up
in her bed, and appeared so perfectly composed, that Catherine Seyton,
without farther preamble, judged it safe to inform her of the
predicament in which they were placed. Mary turned pale, and crossed
herself again and again, when she heard the imminent danger in which
she had stood. But, like the Ulysses of Homer,

--Hardly waking yet,
Sprung in her mind the momentary wit,

and she at once understood her situation, with the dangers and
advantages that attended it.

"We cannot do better," she said, after her hasty conference with
Catherine, pressing her at the same time to her bosom, and kissing her
forehead; "we cannot do better than to follow the scheme so happily
devised by thy quick wit and bold affection. Undo the door to the Lady
Lochleven--She shall meet her match in art, though not in perfidy.
Fleming, draw close the curtain, and get thee behind it--thou art a
better tire-woman than an actress; do but breathe heavily, and, if
thou wilt, groan slightly, and it will top thy part. Hark! they come.
Now, Catherine of Medicis, may thy spirit inspire me, for a cold
northern brain is too blunt for this scene!"

Ushered by Catherine Seyton, and stepping as light as she could, the
Lady Lochleven was shown into the twilight apartment, and conducted to
the side of the couch, where Mary, pallid and exhausted from a
sleepless night, and the subsequent agitation of the morning, lay
extended so listlessly as might well confirm the worst fears of her
hostess.

"Now, God forgive us our sins!" said the Lady of Lochleven, forgetting
her pride, and throwing herself on her knees by the side of the bed;
"It is too true--she is murdered!"

"Who is in the chamber?" said Mary, as if awaking from a heavy sleep.
"Seyton, Fleming, where are you? I heard a strange voice. Who waits?
--Call Courcelles."

"Alas! her memory is at Holyrood, though her body is at Lochleven.--
Forgive, madam," continued the Lady, "if I call your attention to
me--I am Margaret Erskine, of the house of Mar, by marriage Lady
Douglas of Lochleven."

"Oh, our gentle hostess," answered the Queen, "who hath such care of
our lodgings and of our diet--We cumber you too much and too long,
good Lady of Lochleven; but we now trust your task of hospitality is
well-nigh ended."

"Her words go like a knife through my heart," said the Lady of
Lochleven--"With a breaking heart, I pray your Grace to tell me what
is your ailment, that aid may be had, if there be yet time."

"Nay, my ailment," replied the Queen, "is nothing worth telling, or
worth a leech's notice--my limbs feel heavy--my heart feels cold--a
prisoner's limbs and heart are rarely otherwise--fresh air, methinks,
and freedom, would soon revive me; but as the Estates have ordered it,
death alone can break my prison-doors."

"Were it possible, madam," said the Lady, "that your liberty could
restore your perfect health, I would myself encounter the resentment
of the Regent--of my son, Sir William--of my whole friends, rather
than you should meet your fate in this castle."

"Alas! madam," said the Lady Fleming, who conceived the time
propitious to show that her own address had been held too lightly of;
"it is but trying what good freedom may work upon us; for myself, I
think a free walk on the greensward would do me much good at heart."

The Lady of Lochleven rose from the bedside, and darted a penetrating
look at the elder valetudinary. "Are you so evil-disposed, Lady
Fleming?"

"Evil-disposed indeed, madam," replied the court dame, "and more
especially since breakfast."

"Help! help!" exclaimed Catherine, anxious to break off a conversation
which boded her schemes no good; "help! I say, help! the Queen is
about to pass away. Aid her, Lady Lochleven, if you be a woman!"

The Lady hastened to support the Queen's head, who, turning her eyes
towards her with an air of great languor, exclaimed, "Thanks, my
dearest Lady of Lochleven--notwithstanding some passages of late, I
have never misconstrued or misdoubted your affection to our house. It
was proved, as I have heard, before I was born."

The Lady Lochleven sprung from the floor, on which she had again
knelt, and, having paced the apartment in great disorder, flung open
the lattice, as if to get air.

"Now, Our Lady forgive me!" said Catherine to herself. "How deep must
the love of sarcasm, be implanted in the breasts of us women, since
the Queen, with all her sense, will risk ruin rather than rein in her
wit!" She then adventured, stooping over the Queen's person, to press
her arm with her hand, saying, at the same time, "For God's sake,
madam, restrain yourself!"

"Thou art too forward, maiden," said the Queen; but immediately added,
in a low whisper, "Forgive me, Catherine; but when I felt the hag's
murderous hands busy about my head and neck, I felt such disgust and
hatred, that I must have said something, or died. But I will be
schooled to better behaviour--only see that thou let her not touch
me."

"Now, God be praised!" said the Lady Lochleven, withdrawing her head
from the window, "the boat comes as fast as sail and oar can send wood
through water. It brings the leech and a female--certainly, from the
appearance, the very person I was in quest of. Were she but well out
of this castle, with our honour safe, I would that she were on the top
of the wildest mountain in Norway; or I would I had been there myself,
ere I had undertaken this trust."

While she thus expressed herself, standing apart at one window, Roland
Graeme, from the other, watched the boat bursting through the waters
of the lake, which glided from its side in ripple and in foam. He,
too, became sensible, that at the stern was seated the medical
Chamberlain, clad in his black velvet cloak; and that his own
relative, Magdalen Graeme, in her assumed character of Mother
Nieneven, stood in the bow, her hands clasped together, and pointed
towards the castle, and her attitude, even at that distance,
expressing enthusiastic eagerness to arrive at the landing-place.
They arrived there accordingly, and while the supposed witch was
detained in a room beneath, the physician was ushered to the Queen's
apartment, which he entered with all due professional solemnity.
Catherine had, in the meanwhile, fallen back from the Queen's bed, and
taken an opportunity to whisper to Roland, "Methinks, from the
information of the threadbare velvet cloak and the solemn beard, there
would be little trouble in haltering yonder ass. But thy grandmother,
Roland--thy grandmother's zeal will ruin us, if she get not a hint to
dissemble."

Roland, without reply, glided towards the door of the apartment,
crossed the parlour, and safely entered the antechamber; but when he
attempted to pass farther, the word "Back! Back!" echoed from one to
the other, by two men armed with carabines, convinced him that the
Lady of Lochleven's suspicions had not, even in the midst of her
alarms, been so far lulled to sleep as to omit the precaution of
stationing sentinels on her prisoners. He was compelled, therefore, to
return to the parlour, or audience-chamber, in which he found the Lady
of the castle in conference with her learned leech.

"A truce with your cant phrase and your solemn foppery, Lundin," in
such terms she accosted the man of art, "and let me know instantly, if
thou canst tell, whether this lady hath swallowed aught that is less
than wholesome?"

"Nay, but, good lady--honoured patroness--to whom I am alike bonds-man
in my medical and official capacity, deal reasonably with me. If this,
mine illustrious patient, will not answer a question, saving with
sighs and moans--if that other honourable lady will do nought but yawn
in my face when I inquire after the diagnostics--and if that other
young damsel, who I profess is a comely maiden--"

"Talk not to me of comeliness or of damsels," said the Lady of
Lochleven, "I say, are they evil-disposed?--In one word, man, have
they taken poison, ay or no?"

"Poisons, madam," said the learned leech, "are of various sorts. There
is your animal poison, as the lepus marinus, as mentioned by
Dioscorides and Galen--there are mineral and semi-mineral poisons, as
those compounded of sublimate regulus of antimony, vitriol, and the
arsenical salts--there are your poisons from herbs and vegetables, as
the aqua cymbalariae, opium, aconitum, cantharides, and the
like--there are also--"

"Now, out upon thee for a learned fool! and I myself am no better for
expecting an oracle from such a log," said the Lady.

"Nay, but if your ladyship will have patience--if I knew what food
they have partaken of, or could see but the remnants of what they have
last eaten--for as to the external and internal symptoms, I can
discover nought like; for, as Galen saith in his second book _de
Antidotis_--"

"Away, fool!" said the Lady; "send me that hag hither; she shall
avouch what it was that she hath given to the wretch Dryfesdale, or
the pilniewinks and thumbikins shall wrench it out of her finger
joints!"

"Art hath no enemy unless the ignorant," said the mortified Doctor;
veiling, however, his remark under the Latin version, and stepping
apart into a corner to watch the result.

In a minute or two Magdalen Graeme entered the apartment, dressed as
we have described her at the revel, but with her muffler thrown back,
and all affectation of disguise. She was attended by two guards, of
whose presence she did not seem even to be conscious, and who followed
her with an air of embarrassment and timidity, which was probably
owing to their belief in her supernatural power, coupled with the
effect produced by her bold and undaunted demeanour. She confronted
the Lady of Lochleven, who seemed to endure with high disdain the
confidence of her air and manner.

"Wretched woman!" said the Lady, after essaying for a moment to bear
her down, before she addressed her, by the stately severity of her
look, "what was that powder which thou didst give to a servant of this
house, by name Jasper Dryfesdale, that he might work out with it some
slow and secret vengeance?--Confess its nature and properties, or, by
the honour of Douglas, I give thee to fire and stake before the sun is
lower!"

"Alas!" said Magdalen Graeme in reply, "and when became a Douglas or a
Douglas's man so unfurnished in his revenge, that he should seek them
at the hands of a poor and solitary woman? The towers in which your
captives pine away into unpitied graves, yet stand fast on their
foundation--the crimes wrought in them have not yet burst their
vaults asunder--your men have still their cross-bows, pistolets, and
daggers--why need you seek to herbs or charms for the execution of
your revenges?"

"Hear me, foul hag," said the Lady Lochleven,--"but what avails
speaking to thee?--Bring Dryfesdale hither, and let them be confronted
together."

"You may spare your retainers the labour," replied Magdalen Graeme.
"I came not here to be confronted with a base groom, nor to answer the
interrogatories of James's heretical leman--I came to speak with the
Queen of Scotland--Give place there!"

And while the Lady Lochleven stood confounded at her boldness, and at
the reproach she had cast upon her, Magdalen Graeme strode past her
into the bedchamber of the Queen, and, kneeling on the floor, made a
salutation as if, in the Oriental fashion, she meant to touch the
earth with her forehead.

"Hail, Princess!" she said, "hail, daughter of many a King, but graced
above them all in that thou art called to suffer for the true
faith--hail to thee, the pure gold of whose crown has been tried in
the seven-times heated furnace of affliction--hear the comfort which
God and Our Lady send thee by the mouth of thy unworthy servant.--But
first"--and stooping her head she crossed herself repeatedly, and,
still upon her knees, appeared to be rapidly reciting some formula of
devotion.

"Seize her, and drag her to the massy-more!--to the deepest dungeon
with the sorceress, whose master, the Devil, could alone have inspired
her with boldness enough to insult the mother of Douglas in his own
castle!"

Thus spoke the incensed Lady of Lochleven, but the physician presumed
to interpose.

"I pray of you, honoured madam, she be permitted to take her course
without interruption. Peradventure we shall learn something concerning
the nostrum she hath ventured, contrary to law and the rules of art,
to adhibit to these ladies, through the medium of the steward
Dryfesdale."

"For a fool," replied the Lady of Lochleven, "thou hast counselled
wisely--I will bridle my resentment till their conference be over."

"God forbid, honoured Lady," said Doctor Lundin, "that you should
suppress it longer--nothing may more endanger the frame of your
honoured body; and truly, if there be witchcraft in this matter, it is
held by the vulgar, and even by solid authors on Demonology, that
three scruples of the ashes of the witch, when she hath been well and
carefully burned at a stake, is a grand Catholicon in such matter,
even as they prescribe _crinis canis rabidi_, a hair of the dog
that bit the patient, in cases of hydrophobia. I warrant neither
treatment, being out of the regular practice of the schools; but, in
the present case, there can be little harm in trying the conclusion
upon this old necromancer and quacksalver-_fiat experimentum_ (as
we say) _in corpore vili_."

"Peace, fool!" said the Lady, "she is about to speak."

At that moment Magdalen Graeme arose from her knees, and turned her
countenance on the Queen, at the same time advancing her foot,
extending her arm, and assuming the mien and attitude of a Sibyl in
frenzy. As her gray hair floated back from beneath her coif, and her
eye gleamed fire from under its shaggy eyebrow, the effect of her
expressive though emaciated features, was heightened by an enthusiasm
approaching to insanity, and her appearance struck with awe all who
were present. Her eyes for a time glanced wildly around as if seeking
for something to aid her in collecting her powers of expression, and
her lips had a nervous and quivering motion, as those of one who would
fain speak, yet rejects as inadequate the words which present
themselves. Mary herself caught the infection as if by a sort of
magnetic influence, and raising herself from her bed, without being
able to withdraw her eyes from those of Magdalen, waited as if for the
oracle of a Pythoness. She waited not long, for no sooner had the
enthusiast collected herself, than her gaze became instantly steady,
her features assumed a determined energy, and when she began to speak,
the words flowed from her with a profuse fluency, which might have
passed for inspiration, and which, perhaps, she herself mistook for
such.

"Arise," she said, "Queen of France and of England! Arise, Lioness of
Scotland, and be not dismayed though the nets of the hunters have
encircled thee! Stoop not to feign with the false ones, whom thou
shall soon meet in the field. The issue of battle is with the God of
armies, but by battle thy cause shall be tried. Lay aside, then, the
arts of lower mortals, and assume those which become a Queen! True
defender of the only true faith, the armoury of heaven is open to
thee! Faithful daughter of the Church, take the keys of St. Peter, to
bind and to loose!--Royal Princess of the land, take the sword of St.
Paul, to smite and to shear! There is darkness in thy destiny;--but
not in these towers, not under the rule of their haughty mistress,
shall that destiny be closed--In other lands the lioness may crouch to
the power of the tigress, but not in her own--not in Scotland shall
the Queen of Scotland long remain captive--nor is the fate of the
royal Stuart in the hands of the traitor Douglas. Let the Lady of
Lochleven double her bolts and deepen her dungeons, they shall not
retain thee--each element shall give thee its assistance ere thou
shalt continue captive--the land shall lend its earthquakes, the water
its waves, the air its tempests, the fire its devouring flames, to
desolate this house, rather than it shall continue the place of thy
captivity.--Hear this, and tremble, all ye who fight against the
light, for she says it, to whom it hath been assured!"

She was silent, and the astonished physician said, "If there was ever
an _Energumene,_ or possessed demoniac, in our days, there is a
devil speaking with that woman's tongue!"

"Practice," said the Lady of Lochleven, recovering her surprise; "here
is all practice and imposture--To the dungeon with her!"

"Lady of Lochleven," said Mary, arising from her bed, and coming
forward with her wonted dignity, "ere you make arrest on any one in
our presence, hear me but one word. I have done you some wrong--I
believed you privy to the murderous purpose of your vassal, and I
deceived you in suffering you to believe it had taken effect. I did
you wrong, Lady of Lochleven, for I perceive your purpose to aid me
was sincere. We tasted not of the liquid, nor are we now sick, save
that we languish for our freedom."

"It is avowed like Mary of Scotland," said Magdalen Graeme; "and know,
besides, that had the Queen drained the drought to the dregs, it was
harmless as the water from a sainted spring. Trow ye, proud woman,"
she added, addressing herself to the Lady of Lochleven, "that
I--I--would have been the wretch to put poison into the hands of a
servant or vassal of the house of Lochleven, knowing whom that house
contained? as soon would I have furnished drug to slay my own
daughter!"

"Am I thus bearded in mine own castle?" said the Lady; "to the dungeon
with her!--she shall abye what is due to the vender of poisons and
practiser of witchcraft."

"Yet hear me for an instant, Lady of Lochleven," said Mary; "and do
you," to Magdalen, "be silent at my command.--Your steward, lady, has
by confession attempted my life, and those of my household, and this
woman hath done her best to save them, by furnishing him with what was
harmless, in place of the fatal drugs which he expected. Methinks I
propose to you but a fair exchange when I say I forgive your vassal
with all my heart, and leave vengeance to God, and to his conscience,
so that you also forgive the boldness of this woman in your presence;
for we trust you do not hold it as a crime, that she substituted an
innocent beverage for the mortal poison which was to have drenched our
cup."

"Heaven forfend, madam," said the Lady, "that I should account that a
crime which saved the house of Douglas from a foul breach of honour
and hospitality! We have written to our son touching our vassal's
delict, and he must abide his doom, which will most likely be death.
Touching this woman, her trade is damnable by Scripture, and is
mortally punished by the wise laws of our ancestry--she also must
abide her doom."

"And have I then," said the Queen, "no claim on the house of Lochleven
for the wrong I hare so nearly suffered within their walls? I ask but
in requital, the life of a frail and aged woman, whose brain, as
yourself may judge, seems somewhat affected by years and suffering."

"If the Lady Mary," replied the inflexible Lady of Lochleven, "hath
been menaced with wrong in the house of Douglas, it may be regarded as
some compensation, that her complots have cost that house the exile of
a valued son."

"Plead no more for me, my gracious Sovereign," said Magdalen Graeme,
"nor abase yourself to ask so much as a gray hair of my head at her
hands. I knew the risk at which I served my Church and my Queen, and
was ever prompt to pay my poor life as the ransom. It is a comfort to
think, that in slaying me, or in restraining my freedom, or even in
injuring that single gray hair, the house, whose honour she boasts so
highly, will have filled up the measure of their shame by the breach
of their solemn written assurance of safety."--And taking from her
bosom a paper, she handed it to the Queen.

"It is a solemn assurance of safety in life and limb," said Queen
Mary, "with space to come and go, under the hand and seal of the
Chamberlain of Kinross, granted to Magdalen Graeme, commonly called
Mother Nicneven, in consideration of her consenting to put herself,
for the space of twenty-four hours, if required, within the iron gate
of the Castle of Lochleven."

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