The Monastery

Chapter 17

The reader's attention must be recalled to Halbert Glendinning, who had

left the Tower of Glendearg immediately after his quarrel with its new

guest, Sir Piercie Shafton. As he walked with a rapid pace up the glen,

Old Martin followed him, beseeching him to be less hasty.

"Halbert," said the old man, "you will never live to have white hair, if

you take fire thus at every spark of provocation."

"And why should I wish it, old man," said Halbert, "if I am to be the

butt that every fool may aim a shaft of scorn against?--What avails

it, old man, that you yourself move, sleep, and wake, eat thy niggard

meal, and repose on thy hard pallet?--Why art thou so well pleased

that the morning should call thee up to daily toil, and the evening

again lay thee down a wearied-out wretch? Were it not better sleep and

wake no more, than to undergo this dull exchange of labour for

insensibility and of insensibility for labour?"

"God help me," answered Martin, "there may be truth in what thou

sayest--but walk slower, for my old limbs cannot keep pace with your

young legs--walk slower, and I will tell you why age, though unlovely,

is yet endurable."

"Speak on then," said Halbert, slackening his pace, "but remember we

must seek venison to refresh the fatigues of these holy men, who will

this morning have achieved a journey of ten miles; and if we reach not

the Brocksburn head we are scarce like to see an antler."

"Then know, my good Halbert," said Martin, "whom I love as my own son,

that I am satisfied to live till death calls me, because my Maker

wills it. Ay, and although I spend what men call a hard life, pinched

with cold in winter, and burnt with heat in summer, though I feed hard

and sleep hard, and am held mean and despised, yet I bethink me, that

were I of no use on the face of this fair creation, God would withdraw

me from it."

"Thou poor old man," said Halbert, "and can such a vain conceit as

this of thy fancied use, reconcile thee to a world where thou playest

so poor a part?"

"My part was nearly as poor," said Martin, "my person nearly as much

despised, the day that I saved my mistress and her child from

perishing in the wilderness."

"Right, Martin," answered Halbert; "there, indeed, thou didst what

might be a sufficient apology for a whole life of insignificance."

"And do you account it for nothing, Halbert, that I should have the

power of giving you a lesson of patience, and submission to the

destinies of Providence? Methinks there is use for the grey hairs on

the old scalp, were it but to instruct the green head by precept and

by example."

Halbert held down his face, and remained silent for a minute or two, and

then resumed his discourse: "Martin, seest thou aught changed in me of

late?"

"Surely," said Martin. "I have always known you hasty, wild, and

inconsiderate, rude, and prompt to speak at the volley and without

reflection; but now, methinks, your bearing, without losing its

natural fire, has something in it of force and dignity which it had

not before. It seems as if you had fallen asleep a carle, and awakened

a gentleman."

"Thou canst judge, then, of noble bearing?" said Halbert.

"Surely," answered Martin, "in some sort I can; for I have travelled

through court, and camp, and city, with my master, Walter Avenel,

although he could do nothing for me in the long run, but give me room

for two score of sheep on the hill--and surely even now, while I speak

with you, I feel sensible that my language is more refined than it is

my wont to use, and that--though I know not the reason--the rude

northern dialect, so familiar to my tongue, has given place to a more

town-bred speech."

"And this change in thyself and me, thou canst by no means account

for?" said young Glendinning.

"Change!" replied Martin, "by our Lady it is not so much a change

which I feel, as a recalling and renewing sentiments and expressions

which I had some thirty years since, ere Tibb and I set up our humble

household. It is singular, that your society should have this sort of

influence over me, Halbert, and that I should never have experienced

it ere now."

"Thinkest thou," said Halbert, "thou seest in me aught that can raise

me from this base, low, despised state, into one where I may rank with

those proud men, who now despise my clownish poverty?"

Martin paused an instant, and then answered, "Doubtless you may,

Halbert; as broken a ship has come to land. Heard ye never of Hughie

Dun, who left this Halidome some thirty-five years gone by? A

deliverly fellow was Hughie--could read and write like a priest, and

could wield brand and buckler with the best of the riders. I mind

him--the like of him was never seen in the Halidome of Saint Mary's,

and so was seen of the preferment that God sent him."

"And what was that?" said Halbert, his eyes sparkling with eagerness.

"Nothing less," answered Martin, "than body-servant to the Archbishop

of Saint Andrews!"

Halbert's countenance fell.--"A servant--and to a priest? Was this all

that knowledge and activity could raise him to?"

Martin, in his turn, looked with wistful surprise in the face of his

young friend. "And to what could fortune lead him farther?" answered

he. "The son of a kirk-feuar is not the stuff that lords and knights

are made of. Courage and school craft cannot change churl's blood into

gentle blood, I trow. I have heard, forby, that Hughie Dun left a good

five hundred punds of Scots money to his only daughter, and that she

married the Bailie of Pittenweem."

At this moment, and while Halbert was embarrassed with devising a

suitable answer, a deer bounded across their path. In an instant the

crossbow was at the youth's shoulder, the bolt whistled, and the deer,

after giving one bound upright, dropt dead on the green sward.

"There lies the venison our dame wanted," said Martin; "who would have

thought of an out-lying stag being so low down the glen at this

season?--And it is a hart of grease too, in full season, and three

inches of fat on the brisket. Now this is all your luck, Halbert, that

follows you, go where you like. Were you to put in for it, I would

warrant you were made one of the Abbot's yeoman-prickers, and ride

about in a purple doublet as bold as the best."

"Tush, man," answered Halbert, "I will serve the Queen or no one.

Take thou care to have down the venison to the Tower, since they

expect it. I will on to the moss. I have two or three bird-bolts at

my girdle, and it may be I shall find wild-fowl."

He hastened his pace, and was soon out of sight. Martin paused for a

moment, and looked after him. "There goes the making of a right

gallant stripling, an ambition have not the spoiling of him--Serve the

Queen! said he. By my faith, and she hath worse servants, from all

that I e'er heard of him. And wherefore should he not keep a high

head? They that ettle to the top of the ladder will at least get up

some rounds. They that mint [Footnote: _Mint_--aim at.] at a gown

of gold, will always get a sleeve of it. But come, sir, (addressing

the stag,) you shall go to Glendearg on my two legs somewhat more

slowly than you were frisking it even now on your own four nimble

shanks. Nay, by my faith, if you be so heavy, I will content me with

the best of you, and that's the haunch and the nombles, and e'en heave

up the rest on the old oak-tree yonder, and come back for it with one

of the yauds." [Footnote: _Yauds_--horses; more particularly

horses of labour.]

While Martin returned to Glendearg with the venison, Halbert

prosecuted his walk, breathing more easily since he was free of his

companion. "The domestic of a proud and lazy priest--body-squire to

the Archbishop of Saint Andrews," he repeated to himself; "and this,

with the privilege of allying his blood with the Bailie of Pittenween,

is thought a preferment worth a brave man's struggling for;--nay more,

a preferment which, if allowed, should crown the hopes, past, present,

and to come, of the son of a Kirk-vassal! By Heaven, but that I find

in me a reluctance to practise their acts of nocturnal rapine, I would

rather take the jack and lance, and join with the Border-riders.

--Something I will do. Here, degraded and dishonoured, I will not live

the scorn of each whiffling stranger from the South, because,

forsooth, he wears tinkling spurs on a tawney boot. This thing--this

phantom, be it what it will, I will see it once more. Since I spoke

with her, and touched her hand, thoughts and feelings have dawned on

me, of which my former life had not even dreamed; but shall I, who

feel my father's glen too narrow for my expanding spirit, brook to be

bearded in it by this vain gewgaw of a courtier, and in the sight too

of Mary Avenel? I will not stoop to it, by Heaven!"

As he spoke thus, he arrived in the sequestered glen of

Corri-nan-shian, as it verged upon the hour of noon. A few moments he

remained looking upon the fountain, and doubting in his own mind with

what countenance the White Lady might receive him. She had not indeed

expressly forbidden his again evoking her; but yet there was something

like such a prohibition implied in the farewell, which recommended him

to wait for another guide.

Halbert Glendinning did not long, however, allow himself to pause.

Hardihood was the natural characteristic of his mind; and under the

expansion and modification which his feelings had lately undergone, it

had been augmented rather than diminished. He drew his sword, undid

the buskin from his foot, bowed three times with deliberation towards

the fountain, and as often towards the tree, and repeated the same

rhyme as formerly,--

As he spoke, the figure looked upon him with a fierce and ireful

countenance, which, without losing the similitude of that which it

usually exhibited, had a wilder and more exaggerated cast of features.

The eyes seemed to contract and become more fiery, and slight

convulsions passed over the face, as if it was about to be transformed

into something hideous. The whole appearance resembled those faces

which the imagination summons up when it is disturbed by laudanum, but

which do not remain under the visionary's command, and, beautiful in

their first appearance, become wild and grotesque ere we can arrest

them.

But when Halbert had concluded his bold speech, the White Lady stood

before him with the same pale, fixed, and melancholy aspect, which she

usually bore. He had expected the agitation which she exhibited would

conclude in some frightful metamorphosis. Folding her arms on her

bosom, the phantom replied,--

She answered as promptly as before,--

The phantom failed not to reply,--

Habit inures us to wonders; but the youth did not find himself alone

by the fountain without experiencing, though in a much less degree,

the revulsion of spirits which he had felt upon the phantom's former

disappearance. A doubt strongly pressed upon his mind, whether it

were safe to avail himself of the gifts of a spirit which did not even

pretend to belong to the class of angels, and might, for aught he

knew, have a much worse lineage than that which she was pleased to

avow. "I will speak of it," he said, "to Edward, who is clerkly

learned, and will tell me what I should do. And yet, no--Edward is

scrupulous and wary.--I will prove the effect of her gift on Sir

Piercie Shafton, if he again braves me, and by the issue, I will be

myself a sufficient judge whether there is danger in resorting to her

counsel. Home, then, home--and we shall soon learn whether that home

shall longer hold me; for not again will I brook insult, with my

father's sword by my side, and Mary for the spectator of my disgrace."