The Abbot

Chapter 10

"My step would be lighter," he thought, "and so would my heart, could

I but have returned to see her for one instant, and to say, Lady, the

orphan boy was wild, but not ungrateful!"

Travelling in these divers moods, about the hour of noon they reached

a small straggling village, in which, as usual, were seen one or two

of those predominating towers, or peel houses, which, for reasons of

defence elsewhere detailed, were at that time to be found in every

Border hamlet. A brook flowed beside the village, and watered the

valley in which it stood. There was also a mansion at the end of the

village, and a little way separated from it, much dilapidated, and in

very bad order, but appearing to have been the abode of persons of

some consideration. The situation was agreeable, being an angle formed

by the stream, bearing three or four large sycamore trees, which were

in full leaf, and served to relieve the dark appearance of the

mansion, which was built of a deep red stone. The house itself was a

large one, but was now obviously too big for the inmates; several

windows were built up, especially those which opened from the lower

story; others were blockaded in a less substantial manner. The court

before the door, which had once been defended with a species of low

outer-wall, now ruinous, was paved, but the stones were completely

covered with long gray nettles, thistles, and other weeds, which,

shooting up betwixt the flags, had displaced many of them from their

level. Even matters demanding more peremptory attention had been left

neglected, in a manner which argued sloth or poverty in the extreme.

The stream, undermining a part of the bank near an angle of the

ruinous wall, had brought it down, with a corner turret, the ruins of

which lay in the bed of the river. The current, interrupted by the

ruins which it had overthrown, and turned yet nearer to the site of

the tower, had greatly enlarged the breach it had made, and was in the

process of undermining the ground on which the house itself stood,

unless it were speedily protected by sufficient bulwarks.

All this attracted Roland Graeme's observation, as they approached the

dwelling by a winding path, which gave them, at intervals, a view of

it from different points.

"If we go to yonder house," he said to his mother, "I trust it is but

for a short visit. It looks as if two rainy days from the north-west

would send the whole into the brook."

"You see but with the eyes of the body," said the old woman; "God will

defend his own, though it be forsaken and despised of men. Better to

dwell on the sand, under his law, than fly to the rock of human

trust."

As she thus spoke, they entered the court before the old mansion, and

Roland could observe that the front of it had formerly been

considerably ornamented with carved work, in the same dark-coloured

freestone of which it was built. But all these ornaments had been

broken down and destroyed, and only the shattered vestiges of niches

and entablatures now strewed the place which they had once occupied.

The larger entrance in front was walled up, but a little footpath,

which, from its appearance, seemed to be rarely trodden, led to a

small wicket, defended by a door well clenched with iron-headed nails,

at which Magdalen Graeme knocked three times, pausing betwixt each

knock, until she heard an answering tap from within. At the last

knock, the wicket was opened by a pale thin female, who said,

"_Benedicti qui venient in nomine Domini_." They entered, and the

portress hastily shut behind them the wicket, and made fast the

massive fastenings by which it was secured.

The female led the way through a narrow entrance, into a vestibule of

some extent, paved with stone, and having benches of the same solid

material ranged around. At the upper end was an oriel window, but some

of the intervals formed by the stone shafts and mullions were blocked

up, so that the apartment was very gloomy.

Here they stopped, and the mistress of the mansion, for such she was,

embraced Magdalen Graeme, and greeting her by the title of sister,

kissed her with much solemnity, on either side of the face.

"The blessing of Our Lady be upon you, my sister," were her next

words; and they left no doubt upon Roland's mind respecting the

religion of their hostess, even if he could have suspected his

venerable and zealous guide of resting elsewhere than in the

habitation of an orthodox Catholic. They spoke together a few words

in private, during which he had leisure to remark more particularly

the appearance of his grandmother's friend.

Her age might be betwixt fifty and sixty; her looks had a mixture of

melancholy and unhappiness that bordered on discontent, and obscured

the remains of beauty which age had still left on her features. Her

dress was of the plainest and most ordinary description, of a dark

colour, and, like Magdalen Graeme's, something approaching to a

religious habit. Strict neatness and cleanliness of person, seemed to

intimate, that if poor, she was not reduced to squalid or heart-broken

distress, and that she was still sufficiently attached to life to

retain a taste for its decencies, if not its elegancies. Her manner,

as well as her features and appearance, argued an original condition

and education far above the meanness of her present appearance. In

short, the whole figure was such as to excite the idea, "That female

must have had a history worth knowing." While Roland Graeme was making

this very reflection, the whispers of the two females ceased, and the

mistress of the mansion, approaching him, looked on his face and

person with much attention, and, as it seemed, some interest.

"This, then," she said, addressing his relative, "is the child of

thine unhappy daughter, sister Magdalen; and him, the only shoot from

your ancient tree, you are willing to devote to the Good Cause?"

"Yes, by the rood," answered Magdalen Graeme, in her usual tone of

resolved determination, "to the good cause I devote him, flesh and

fell, sinew and limb, body and soul."

"Thou art a happy woman, sister Magdalen," answered her companion,

"that, lifted so high above human affection and human feeling, thou

canst bind such a victim to the horns of the altar. Had I been called

to make such a sacrifice--to plunge a youth so young and fair into the

plots and bloodthirsty dealings of the time, not the patriarch

Abraham, when he led Isaac up the mountain, would have rendered more

melancholy obedience."

She then continued to look at Roland with a mournful aspect of

compassion, until the intentness of her gaze occasioned his colour to

rise, and he was about to move out of its influence, when he was

stopped by his grand-mother with one hand, while with the other she

divided the hair upon his forehead, which was now crimson with

bashfulness, while she added, with a mixture of proud affection and

firm resolution,--"Ay, look at him well, my sister, for on a fairer

face thine eye never rested. I too, when I first saw him, after a long

separation, felt as the worldly feel, and was half shaken in my

purpose. But no wind can tear a leaf from the withered tree which has

long been stripped of its foliage, and no mere human casualty can

awaken the mortal feelings which have long slept in the calm of

devotion."

While the old woman thus spoke, her manner gave the lie to her

assertions, for the tears rose to her eyes while she added, "But the

fairer and the more spotless the victim, is it not, my sister, the

more worthy of acceptance?"

She seemed glad to escape from the sensations which agitated her, and

instantly added, "He will escape, my sister--there will be a ram

caught in the thicket, and the hand of our revolted brethren shall not

be on the youthfull Joseph. Heaven can defend its own rights, even by

means of babes and sucklings, of women and beardless boys."

"Heaven hath left us," said the other female; "for our sins and our

fathers' the succours of the blessed Saints have abandoned this

accursed land. We may win the crown of Martyrdom, but not that of

earthly triumph. One, too, whose prudence was at this deep crisis so

indispensable, has been called to a better world. The Abbot Eustatius

is no more."

"May his soul have mercy!" said Magdalen Graeme, "and may Heaven, too,

have mercy upon us, who linger behind in this bloody land! His loss is

indeed a perilous blow to our enterprise; for who remains behind

possessing his far-fetched experience, his self-devoted zeal, his

consummate wisdom, and his undaunted courage! He hath fallen with the

church's standard in his hand, but God will raise up another to lift

the blessed banner. Whom have the Chapter elected in his room?"

"It is rumoured no one of the few remaining brethren dare accept the

office. The heretics have sworn that they will permit no future

election, and will heavily punish any attempt to create a new Abbot of

Saint Mary's. _Conjuraverunt inter se principes, dicentes,

Projiciamus laqueos ejus_."

"_Quousque, Domine!_"--ejaculated Magdalen; "this, my sister,

were indeed a perilous and fatal breach in our band; but I am firm in

my belief, that another will arise in the place of him so untimely

removed. Where is thy daughter Catharine?"

"In the parlour," answered the matron, "but"--She looked at Roland

Graeme, and muttered something in the ear of her friend.

"Fear it not," answered Magdalen Graeme, "it is both lawful and

necessary--fear nothing from him--I would he were as well grounded in

the faith by which alone comes safety, as he is free from thought,

deed, or speech of villany. Therein is the heretics' discipline to be

commended, my sister, that they train up their youth in strong

morality, and choke up every inlet to youthful folly."

"It is but a cleansing the outside of the cup," answered her friend,

"a whitening of the sepulchre; but he shall see Catharine, since you,

sister, judge it safe and meet.--Follow us, youth," she added, and led

the way from the apartment--with her friend. These were the only words

which the matron had addressed to Roland Graeme, who obeyed them in

silence. As they paced through several winding passages and waste

apartments with a very slow step, the young page had leisure to make

some reflections on his situation,--reflections of a nature which his

ardent temper considered as specially disagreeable. It seemed he had

now got two mistresses, or tutoresses, instead of one, both elderly

women, and both, it would seem, in league to direct his motions

according to their own pleasure, and for the accomplishment of plans

to which he was no party. This, he thought, was too much; arguing

reasonably enough, that whatever right his grandmother and

benefactress had to guide his motions, she was neither entitled to

transfer her authority or divide it with another, who seemed to

assume, without ceremony, the same tone of absolute command over him.

"But it shall not long continue thus," thought Roland; "I will not be

all my life the slave of a woman's whistle, to go when she bids, and

come when she calls. No, by Saint Andrew! the hand that can hold the

lance is above the control of the distaff. I will leave them the

slipp'd collar in their hands on the first opportunity, and let them

execute their own devices by their own proper force. It may save them

both from peril, for I guess what they meditate is not likely to prove

either safe or easy--the Earl of Murray and his heresy are too well

rooted to be grubbed up by two old women."

As he thus resolved, they entered a low room, in which a third female

was seated. This apartment was the first he had observed in the

mansion which was furnished with moveable seats, and with a wooden

table, over which was laid a piece of tapestry. A carpet was spread on

the floor, there was a grate in the chimney, and, in brief, the

apartment had the air of being habitable and inhabited.

But Roland's eyes found better employment than to make observations on

the accommodations of the chamber; for this second female inhabitant

of the mansion seemed something very different from any thing he had

yet seen there. At his first entry, she had greeted with a silent and

low obeisance the two aged matrons, then glancing her eyes towards

Roland, she adjusted a veil which hung back over her shoulders, so as

to bring it over her face; an operation which she performed with much

modesty, but without either affected haste or embarrassed timidity.

During this manoeuvre Roland had time to observe, that the face was

that of a girl apparently not much past sixteen, and that the eyes

were at once soft and brilliant. To these very favourable observations

was added the certainty that the fair object to whom they referred

possessed an excellent shape, bordering perhaps on _enbonpoint_,

and therefore rather that of a Hebe than of a Sylph, but beautifully

formed, and shown to great advantage by the close jacket and petticoat

which she wore after a foreign fashion, the last not quite long enough

to conceal a very pretty foot, which rested on a bar of the table at

which she sate; her round arms and taper fingers very busily employed

in repairing--the piece of tapestry which was spread on it, which

exhibited several deplorable fissures, enough to demand the utmost

skill of the most expert seamstress.

It is to be remarked, that it was by stolen glances that Roland Graeme

contrived to ascertain these interesting particulars; and he thought

he could once or twice, notwithstanding the texture of the veil,

detect the damsel in the act of taking similar cognizance of his own

person. The matrons in the meanwhile continued their separate

conversation, eyeing from time to time the young people, in a manner

which left Roland in no doubt that they were the subject of their

conversation. At length he distinctly heard Magdalen Graeme say these

words--"Nay, my sister, we must give them opportunity to speak

together, and to become acquainted; they must be personally known to

each other, or how shall they be able to execute what they are

intrusted with?"

It seemed as if the matron, not fully satisfied with her friend's

reasoning, continued to offer some objections; but they were borne

down by her more dictatorial friend.

"It must be so," she said, "my dear sister; let us therefore go forth

on the balcony, to finish our conversation.--And do you," she said,

addressing Roland and the girl, "become acquainted with each other."

With this she stepped up to the young woman, and raising her veil,

discovered features which, whatever might be their ordinary

complexion, were now covered with a universal blush.

"_Licitum sit,_" said Magdalen, looking at the other matron.

"_Vix licitum,_" replied the other, with reluctant and hesitating

acquiescence; and again adjusting the veil of the blushing girl, she

dropped it so as to shade, though not to conceal her countenance, and

whispered to her, in a tone loud enough for the page to hear,

"Remember, Catharine, who thou art, and for what destined."

The matron then retreated with Magdalen Graeme through one of the

casements of the apartment, that opened on a large broad balcony,

which, with its ponderous balustrade, had once run along the whole

south front of the building which faced the brook, and formed a

pleasant and commodious walk in the open air. It was now in some

places deprived of the balustrade, in others broken and narrowed; but,

ruinous as it was, could still be used as a pleasant promenade. Here

then walked the two ancient dames, busied in their private

conversation; yet not so much so, but that Roland could observe the

matrons, as their thin forms darkened the casement in passing or

repassing before it, dart a glance into the apartment, to see how

matters were going on there.