The Monastery

Chapter 20

The look and sign of warning which the Sub-Prior gave to Halbert

Glendinning as they parted, went to his heart; for although he had

profited much less than Edward by the good man's instructions, he had

a sincere reverence for his person; and even the short time he had for

deliberation tended to show him he was embarked in a perilous

adventure. The nature of the provocation which he had given to Sir

Piercie Shafton he could not even conjecture; but he saw that it was

of a mortal quality, and he was now to abide the consequences.

That he might not force these consequences forward by any premature

renewal of their quarrel, he resolved to walk apart for an hour, and

consider on what terms he was to meet this haughty foreigner. The time

seemed propitious for his doing so without having the appearance of

wilfully shunning the stranger, as all the members of the little

household were dispersing either to perform such tasks as had been

interrupted by the arrival of the dignitaries, or to put in order what

had been deranged by their visit.

Leaving the tower, therefore, and descending, unobserved as he

thought, the knoll on which it stood, Halbert gained the little piece

of level ground which extended betwixt the descent of the hill, and

the first sweep made by the brook after washing the foot of the

eminence on which the tower was situated, where a few straggling birch

and oak-trees served to secure him from observation. But scarcely had

he reached the spot, when he was surprised to feel a smart tap upon

the shoulder, and, turning around, he perceived he had been closely

followed by Sir Piercie Shafton. When, whether from our state of

animal spirits, want of confidence in the justice of our cause, or any

other motive, our own courage happens to be in a wavering condition,

nothing tends so much altogether to disconcert us, as a great

appearance of promptitude on the part of our antagonist. Halbert

Glendinning, both morally and constitutionally intrepid, was

nevertheless somewhat troubled at seeing the stranger, whose

resentment he had provoked, appear at once before him, and with an

aspect which boded hostility. But though his heart might beat somewhat

thicker, he was too high-spirited to exhibit any external signs of

emotion.--"What is your pleasure, Sir Piercie?" he said to the English

knight, enduring without apparent discomposure all the terrors which

his antagonist had summoned into his aspect.

"What is my pleasure!" answered Sir Piercie; "a goodly question after

the part you have acted towards me!--Young man, I know not what

infatuation has led thee to place thyself in direct and insolent

opposition to one who is a guest of thy liege-lord the Abbot, and who,

even from the courtesy due to thy mother's roof, had a right to remain

there without meeting insult. Neither do I ask, or care, by what means

thou hast become possessed of the fatal secret by which thou hast

dared to offer me open shame. But I must now tell thee, that the

possession of it has cost thee thy life."

"Not, I trust, if my hand and sword can defend it," replied Halbert,

boldly.

"True," said the Englishman, "I mean not to deprive thee of thy fair

chance of self-defence. I am only sorry to think, that, young and

country-bred as thou art, it can but little avail thee. But thou must

be well aware, that in this quarrel I shall use no terms of quarter."

"Rely on it, proud man," answered the youth, "that I shall ask none;

and although thou speakest as if I lay already at thy feet, trust me,

that as I am determined never to ask thy mercy, so I am not fearful of

needing it."

"Thou wilt, then," said the knight, "do nothing to avert the certain

fate which thou hast provoked with such wantonness?"

"And how were that to be purchased?" replied Halbert Glendinning, more

with the wish of obtaining some farther insight into the terms on

which he stood with this stranger, than to make him the submission

which he might require.

"Explain to me instantly," said Sir Piercie, "without equivocation or

delay, by what means thou wert enabled to wound my honour so

deeply--and shouldst thou point out to me by so doing an enemy more

worthy of my resentment, I will permit thine own obscure

insignificance to draw a veil over thine insolence."

"This is too high a flight," said Glendinning, fiercely, "for thine

own presumption to soar without being checked. Thou hast come to my

father's house, as well as I can guess, a fugitive and an exile, and

thy first greeting to its inhabitants has been that of contempt and

injury. By what means I have been able to retort that contempt, let

thine own conscience tell thee. Enough for me that I stand on the

privilege of a free Scotchman, and will brook no insult unreturned,

and no injury unrequited."

"It is well, then," said Sir Piercie Shafton; "we will dispute this

matter to-morrow morning with our swords. Let the time be daybreak,

and do thou assign the place. We will go forth as if to strike a

deer."

"Content," replied Halbert Glendinning: "I will guide thee to a spot

where an hundred men might fight and fall without any chance of

interruption."

"It is well," answered Sir Piercie Shafton. "Here then we part.--Many

will say, that in thus indulging the right of a gentleman to the son

of a clod-breaking peasant, I derogate from my sphere, even as the

blessed sun would derogate should he condescend to compare and match

his golden beams with the twinkle of a pale, blinking, expiring,

gross-fed taper. But no consideration of rank shall prevent my

avenging the insult thou hast offered me. We bear a smooth face,

observe me, Sir Villagio, before the worshipful inmates of yonder

cabin, and to-morrow we try conclusions with our swords." So saying,

he turned away towards the tower.

It may not be unworthy of notice, that in the last speech only, had

Sir Piercie used some of those flowers of rhetoric which characterized

the usual style of his conversation. Apparently, a sense of wounded

honour, and the deep desire of vindicating his injured feelings, had

proved too strong for the fantastic affectation of his acquired

habits. Indeed, such is usually the influence of energy of mind, when

called forth and exerted, that Sir Piercie Shafton had never appeared

in the eyes of his youthful antagonist half so much deserving of

esteem and respect as in this brief dialogue, by which they exchanged

mutual defiance. As he followed him slowly to the tower, he could not

help thinking to himself, that, had the English knight always

displayed this superior tone of bearing and feeling, he would not

probably have felt so earnestly disposed to take offence at his hand.

Mortal offence, however, had been exchanged, and the matter was to be

put to mortal arbitrement.

The family met at the evening meal, when Sir Piercie Shafton extended

the benignity of his countenance and the graces of his conversation

far more generally over the party than he had hitherto condescended to

do. The greater part of his attention was, of course, still engrossed

by his divine inimitable Discretion, as he chose to term Mary Avenel;

but, nevertheless there were interjectional flourishes to the Maid of

the Mill, under the title of Comely Damsel, and to the Dame, under

that of Worthy Matron. Nay, lest he should fail to excite their

admiration by the graces of his rhetoric, he generously, and without

solicitation, added those of his voice; and after regretting bitterly

the absence of his viol-de-gamba, he regaled them with a song,

"which," said he, "the inimitable Astrophel, whom mortals call Philip

Sidney, composed in the nonage of his muse, to show the world what

they are to expect from his riper years, and which will one day see

the light in that not-to-be-paralleled perfection of human wit, which

he has addressed to his sister, the matchless Parthenope, whom men

call Countess of Pembroke; a work," he continued, "whereof his

friendship hath permitted me, though unworthy, to be an occasional

partaker, and whereof I may well say, that the deep afflictive tale

which awakeneth our sorrows, is so relieved with brilliant

similitudes, dulcet descriptions, pleasant poems, and engaging

interludes, that they seem as the stars of the firmament, beautifying

the dusky robe of night. And though I wot well how much the lovely

and quaint language will suffer by my widowed voice, widowed in that

it is no longer matched by my beloved viol-de-gamba, I will essay to

give you a taste of the ravishing sweetness of the poesy of the

un-to-be-imitated Astrophel."

So saying, he sung without mercy or remorse about five hundred verses,

of which the two first and the four last may suffice for a specimen--

He shall read nothing in my countenance, thought Halbert, proudly, that

can make him think my indifference less than his own.

And taking from the shelf a bag full of miscellaneous matters

collected for the purpose, he began with great industry to dress

hooks, and had finished half-a-dozen of flies (we are enabled, for the

benefit of those who admire the antiquities of the gentle art of

angling, to state that they were brown hackles) by the time that Sir

Piercie had arrived at the conclusion of his long-winded strophes of

the divine Astrophel. So that he also testified a magnanimous contempt

of that which to-morrow should bring forth.

As it now waxed late, the family of Glendearg separated for the evening;

Sir Piercie first saying to the dame, that "her son Albert--"

"Halbert," said Elspeth, with emphasis, "Halbert, after his goodsire,

Halbert Brydone."

"Well, then, I have prayed your son, Halbert, that we may strive

tomorrow, with the sun's earliness, to wake a stag from his lair, that

I may see whether he be as prompt at that sport as fame bespeaks him."

"Alas! sir," answered Dame Elspeth, "he is but too prompt, an you talk

of promptitude, at any thing that has steel at one end of it, and

mischief at the other. But he is at your honourable disposal, and I

trust you will teach him how obedience is due to our venerable father

and lord, the Abbot, and prevail with him to take the bow-bearer's

place in fee; for, as the two worthy monks said, it will be a great

help to a widow-woman."

"Trust me, good dame," replied Sir Piercie, "it is my purpose so to

indoctrinate him. touching his conduct and bearing towards his

betters, that he shall not lightly depart from the reverence due to

them.--We meet, then, beneath the birch-trees in the plain," he said,

looking to Halbert, "so soon as the eye of day hath opened its

lids."--Halbert answered with a sign of acquiescence, and the knight

proceeded, "And now, having wished to my fairest Discretion those

pleasant dreams which wave their pinions around the couch of sleeping

beauty, and to this comely damsel the bounties of Morpheus, and to all

others the common good-night, I will crave you leave to depart to my

place of rest, though I may say with the poet,

"A pleasant gentleman," said Dame Glendinning; "but I will warrant him

an humorous [Footnote: _Humorous_--full of whims--thus

Shakspeare, "Humorous as winter."--The vulgar word humorsome comes

nearest to the meaning.]--And sings a sweet song, though it is

somewhat of the longest.--Well, I make mine avow he is goodly

company--I wonder when he will go away."

Having thus expressed her respect for her guest, not without

intimation that she was heartily tired of his company, the good dame

gave the signal for the family to disperse, and laid her injunctions

on Halbert to attend Sir Piercie Shafton at daybreak, as he required.

When stretched on his pallet by his brother's side, Halbert had no

small cause to envy the sound sleep which instantly settled on the

eyes of Edward, but refused him any share of its influence. He saw now

too well what the spirit had darkly indicated, that, in granting the

boon which he had asked so unadvisedly, she had contributed more to

his harm than his good. He was now sensible, too late, of the various

dangers and inconveniences with which his dearest friends were

threatened, alike by his discomfiture or his success in the

approaching duel. If he fell, he might say personally, "good-night

all." But it was not the less certain that he should leave a dreadful

legacy of distress and embarrassment to his mother and family,--an

anticipation which by no means tended to render the front of death, in

itself a grisly object, more agreeable to his imagination. The

vengeance of the Abbot, his conscience told him, was sure to descend

on his mother and brother, or could only be averted by the generosity

of the victor--And Mary Avenel--he should have shown himself, if he

succumbed in the present combat, as inefficient in protecting her, as

he had been unnecessarily active in bringing disaster on her, and on

the house in which she had been protected from infancy. And to this

view of the case were to be added all those imbittered and anxious

feelings with which the bravest men, even in a better or less doubtful

quarrel, regard the issue of a dubious conflict, the first time when

it has been their fate to engage in an affair of that nature.

But however disconsolate the prospect seemed in the event of his being

conquered, Halbert could expect from victory little more than the

safety of his own life, and the gratification of his wounded pride. To

his friends--to his mother and brother--especially to Mary Avenel--the

consequences of his triumph would be more certain destruction than the

contingency of his defeat and death. If the English knight survived,

he might in courtesy extend his protection to them; but if he fell,

nothing was likely to screen them from the vindictive measures which

the Abbot and convent would surely adopt against the violation of the

peace of the Halidome, and the slaughter of a protected guest by one

of their own vassals, within whose house they had lodged him for

shelter. These thoughts, in which neither view of the case augured

aught short of ruin to his family, and that ruin entirely brought on

by his own rashness, were thorns in Halbert Glendinning's pillow, and

deprived his soul of peace and his eyes of slumber.

There appeared no middle course, saving one which was marked by

degradation, and which, even if he stooped to it, was by no means free

of danger. He might indeed confess to the English knight the strange

circumstances which led to his presenting him with that token which

the White Lady (in her displeasure as it now seemed) had given him,

that he might offer it to Sir Piercie Shafton. But to this avowal his

pride could not stoop, and reason, who is wonderfully ready to be of

counsel with pride on such occasions, offered many arguments to show

it would be useless as well as mean so far to degrade himself. "If I

tell a tale so wonderful," thought he, "shall I not either be

stigmatized as a liar, or punished as a wizard?--Were Sir Piercie

Shafton generous, noble, and benevolent, as the champions of whom we

hear in romance, I might indeed gain his ear, and, without demeaning

myself, escape from the situation in which I am placed. But as he is,

or at least seems to be, self-conceited, arrogant, vain, and

presumptuous--I should but humble myself in vain--and I will not

humble myself!" he said, starting out of bed, grasping his broadsword,

and brandishing it in the light of the moon, which streamed through

the deep niche that served them as a window; when, to his extreme

surprise and terror, an airy form stood in the moonlight, but

intercepted not the reflection on the floor. Dimly as it was

expressed, the sound of the voice soon made him sensible he saw the

White Lady.

At no time had her presence seemed so terrific to him; for when he had

invoked her, it was with the expectation of the apparition, and the

determination to abide the issue. But now she had come uncalled, and

her presence impressed him with a sense of approaching misfortune, and

with the hideous apprehension that he had associated himself with a

demon, over whose motions he had no control, and of whose powers and

quality he had no certain knowledge. He remained, therefore, in mere

terror, gazing on the apparition, which chanted or recited in cadence

the following lines--

The Spirit laughed; and the cold unnatural sound of her laughter had

something in it more fearful than the usually melancholy tones of her

voice. She then replied,--

Edward awaked accordingly, and asked what he wanted.

"Look out," said Halbert, "look up! seest thou no one in the room?"

"No, upon my good word," said Edward, looking out.

"What! seest thou nothing in the moonshine upon the floor there?"

"No, nothing," answered Edward, "save thyself resting on thy naked

sword. I tell thee, Halbert, thou shouldst trust more to thy spiritual

arms, and less to those of steel and iron. For this many a night hast

thou started and moaned, and cried out of fighting, and of spectres,

and of goblins--thy sleep hath not refreshed thee--thy waking hath

been a dream.--Credit me, dear Halbert, say the _Pater_ and

_Credo_, resign thyself to the protection of God, and thou wilt

sleep sound and wake in comfort."

"It may be," said Halbert slowly, and having his eye still bent on the

female form which to him seemed distinctly visible,--"it may be. But

tell me, dear Edward, seest thou no one on the chamber floor but me?"

"No one," answered Edward, raising himself on his elbow; "dear

brother, lay aside thy weapon, say thy prayers, and lay thee down to

rest."

While he thus spoke, the Spirit smiled at Halbert as if in scorn; her

wan cheek faded in the wan moonlight even before the smile had passed

away, and Halbert himself no longer beheld the vision to which he had

so anxiously solicited his brother's attention. "May God preserve my

wits!" he said, as, laying aside his weapon, he again threw himself on

his bed.

"Amen! my dearest brother," answered Edward; "but we must not provoke

that Heaven in our wantonness which we invoke in our misery.--Be not

angry with me, my dear brother--I know not why you have totally of

late estranged yourself from me--It is true, I am neither so athletic

in body, nor so alert in courage, as you have been from your infancy;

yet, till lately, you have not absolutely cast off my society--Believe

me, I have wept in secret, though I forbore to intrude myself on your

privacy. The time has been--when you held me not so cheap; and--when,

if I could not follow the game so closely, or mark it so truly as you,

I could fill up our intervals of pastime with pleasant tales of the

olden times, which I had read or heard, and which excited even your

attention as we sate and ate our provision by some pleasant

spring--but now I have, though I know not why, lost thy regard and

affection.--Nay, toss not thy arms about thee thus wildly," said the

younger brother; "from thy strange dreams, I fear some touch of fever

hath affected thy blood--let me draw closer around thee thy mantle."

"Forbear," said Halbert--"your care is needless--your complaints are

without reason--your fears on my account are in vain."

"Nay, but hear me, brother," said Edward. "Your speech in sleep, and

now even your waking dreams, are of beings which belong not to this

world, or to our race--Our good Father Eustace says, that howbeit we

may not do well to receive all idle tales of goblins and spectres, yet

there is warrant from holy Scripture to believe, that the fiends haunt

waste and solitary places; and that those who frequent such

wildernesses alone, are the prey, or the sport, of these wandering

demons. And therefore, I pray thee, brother, let me go with you when

you go next up the glen, where, as you well know, there be places of

evil reputation--Thou carest not for my escort; but, Halbert, such

dangers are more safely encountered by the wise in judgment, than by

the bold in bosom; and though I have small cause to boast of my own

wisdom, yet I have that which ariseth from the written knowledge of

elder times."

There was a moment during this discourse, when Halbert had well-nigh

come to the resolution of disburdening his own breast, by intrusting

Edward with all that weighed upon it. But when his brother reminded

him that this was the morning of a high holiday, and that, setting

aside all other business or pleasure, he ought to go to the Monastery

and shrive himself before Father Eustace, who would that day occupy

the confessional, pride stepped in and confirmed his wavering

resolution. "I will not avow," he thought, "a tale so extraordinary,

that I may be considered as an impostor or something worse--I will not

fly from this Englishman, whose arm and sword may be no better than my

own. My fathers have faced his betters, were he as much distinguished

in battle as he is by his quaint discourse."

Pride, which has been said to save man, and woman too, from falling,

has yet a stronger influence on the mind when it embraces the cause of

passion, and seldom fails to render it victorious over conscience and

reason. Halbert, once determined, though not to the better course, at

length slept soundly, and was only awakened by the dawn of day.