The Abbot

Chapter 19

The usher, with gravity which ill concealed a jealous scowl, conducted

Roland Graeme to a lower apartment, where he found his comrade the

falconer. The man of office then briefly acquainted them that this

would be their residence till his Grace's farther orders; that they

were to go to the pantry, to the buttery, to the cellar, and to the

kitchen, at the usual hours, to receive the allowances becoming their

station,--instructions which Adam Woodcock's old familiarity with the

court made him perfectly understand--"For your beds," he said, "you

must go to the hostelry of Saint Michael's, in respect the palace is

now full of the domestics of the greater nobles."

No sooner was the usher's back turned than Adam exclaimed with all the

glee of eager curiosity, "And now, Master Roland, the news--the

news--come unbutton thy pouch, and give us thy tidings--What says the

Regent? asks he for Adam Woodcock?--and is all soldered up, or must

the Abbot of Unreason strap for it?"

"All is well in that quarter," said the page; "and for the rest--But,

hey-day, what! have you taken the chain and medal off from my bonnet?"

"And meet time it was, when yon usher, vinegar-faced rogue that he is,

began to inquire what Popish trangam you were wearing.--By the mass,

the metal would have been confiscated for conscience-sake, like your

other rattle-trap yonder at Avenel, which Mistress Lilias bears about

on her shoes in the guise of a pair of shoe-buckles--This comes of

carrying Popish nicknackets about you."

"The jade!" exclaimed Roland Graeme, "has she melted down my rosary

into buckles for her clumsy hoofs, which will set off such a garnish

nearly as well as a cow's might?--But, hang her, let her keep

them--many a dog's trick have I played old Lilias, for want of having

something better to do, and the buckles will serve for a remembrance.

Do you remember the verjuice I put into the comfits, when old Wingate

and she were to breakfast together on Easter morning?"

"In troth do I, Master Roland--the major-domo's mouth was as crooked

as a hawk's beak for the whole morning afterwards, and any other page

in your room would have tasted the discipline of the porter's lodge

for it. But my Lady's favour stood between your skin and many a

jerking--Lord send you may be the better for her protection in such

matters!"

"I am least grateful for it, Adam! and I am glad you put me in mind

of it."

"Well, but the news, my young master," said Woodcock, "spell me the

tidings--what are we to fly at next?--what did the Regent say to you?"

"Nothing that I am to repeat again," said Roland Graeme, shaking his

head.

"Why, hey-day," said Adam, "how prudent we are become all of a sudden!

You have advanced rarely in brief space, Master Roland. You have well

nigh had your head broken, and you have gained your gold chain, and

you have made an enemy, Master Usher to wit, with his two legs like

hawks' perches, and you have had audience of the first man in the

realm, and bear as much mystery in your brow, as if you had flown in

the court-sky ever since you were hatched. I believe, in my soul, you

would run with a piece of the egg-shell on your head like the curlews,

which (I would we were after them again) we used to call whaups in the

Halidome and its neighbourhood. But sit thee down, boy; Adam Woodcock

was never the lad to seek to enter into forbidden secrets--sit thee

down, and I will go and fetch the vivers--I know the butler and the

pantler of old."

The good-natured falconer set forth upon his errand, busying himself

about procuring their refreshment; and, during his absence, Roland

Graeme abandoned himself to the strange, complicated, and yet

heart-stirring reflections, to which the events of the morning had

given rise. Yesterday he was of neither mark nor likelihood; a vagrant

boy, the attendant on a relative, of whose sane judgment he himself

had not the highest opinion; but now he had become, he knew not why,

or wherefore, or to what extent, the custodier, as the Scottish phrase

went, of some important state secret, in the safe keeping of which the

Regent himself was concerned. It did not diminish from, but rather

added to the interest of a situation so unexpected, that Roland

himself did not perfectly understand wherein he stood committed by the

state secrets, in which he had unwittingly become participator. On

the contrary, he felt like one who looks on a romantic landscape, of

which he sees the features for the first time, and then obscured with

mist and driving tempest. The imperfect glimpse which the eye catches

of rocks, trees, and other objects around him, adds double dignity to

these shrouded mountains and darkened abysses, of which the height,

depth, and extent, are left to imagination.

But mortals, especially at the well-appetized age which precedes

twenty years, are seldom so much engaged either by real or conjectural

subjects of speculation, but that their earthly wants claim their hour

of attention. And with many a smile did our hero, so the reader may

term him if he will, hail the re-appearance of his friend Adam

Woodcock, bearing on one platter a tremendous portion of boiled beef,

and on another a plentiful allowance of greens, or rather what the

Scotch call lang-kale. A groom followed with bread, salt, and the

other means of setting forth a meal; and when they had both placed on

the oaken table what they bore in their hands, the falconer observed,

that since he knew the court, it had got harder and harder every day

to the poor gentlemen and yeoman retainers, but that now it was an

absolute flaying of a flea for the hide and tallow. Such thronging to

the wicket, and such churlish answers, and such bare beef-bones, such

a shouldering at the buttery-hatch and cellarage, and nought to be

gained beyond small insufficient single ale, or at best with a single

straike of malt to counterbalance a double allowance of water--"By the

mass, though, my young friend," said he, while he saw the food

disappearing fast under Roland's active exertions, "it is not so to

well to lament for former times as to take the advantage of the

present, else we are like to lose on both sides."

So saying, Adam Woodcock drew his chair towards the table, unsheathed

his knife, (for every one carried that minister of festive

distribution for himself,) and imitated his young companion's example,

who for the moment had lost his anxiety for the future in the eager

satisfaction of an appetite sharpened by youth and abstinence.

In truth, they made, though the materials were sufficiently simple, a

very respectable meal, at the expense of the royal allowance; and Adam

Woodcock, notwithstanding the deliberate censure which he had passed

on the household beer of the palace, had taken the fourth deep draught

of the black jack ere he remembered him that he had spoken in its

dispraise. Flinging himself jollily and luxuriously back in an old

danske elbow-chair, and looking with careless glee towards the page,

extending at the same time his right leg, and stretching the other

easily over it, he reminded his companion that he had not yet heard

the ballad which he had made for the Abbot of Unreason's revel. And

accordingly he struck merrily up with

"Where the vengeance are you going now," he said, "thou restless

boy?--Thou hast quicksilver in the veins of thee to a certainty, and

canst no more abide any douce and sensible communing, than a hoodless

hawk would keep perched on my wrist!"

"Why, Adam," replied the page, "if you must needs know, I am about to

take a walk and look at this fair city. One may as well be still mewed

up in the old castle of the lake, if one is to sit the live-long night

between four walls, and hearken to old ballads."

"It is a new ballad--the Lord help thee!" replied Adam, "and that one

of the best that ever was matched with a rousing chorus."

"Be it so," said the page, "I will hear it another day, when the rain

is dashing against the windows, and there is neither steed stamping,

nor spur jingling, nor feather waving in the neighbourhood to mar my

marking it well. But, even now, I want to be in the world, and to look

about me."

"But the never a stride shall you go without me," said the falconer,

"until the Regent shall take you whole and sound off my hand; and so,

if you will, we may go to the hostelrie of Saint Michael's, and there

you will see company enough, but through the casement, mark you me;

for as to rambling through the street to seek Seytons and Leslies, and

having a dozen holes drilled in your new jacket with rapier and

poniard, I will yield no way to it."

"To the hostelrie of Saint Michael's, then, with all my heart," said

the page; and they left the palace accordingly, rendered to the

sentinels at the gate, who had now taken their posts for the evening,

a strict account of their names and business, were dismissed through a

small wicket of the close-barred portal, and soon reached the inn or

hostelrie of Saint Michael, which stood in a large court-yard, off the

main street, close under the descent of the Calton-hill. The place,

wide, waste, and uncomfortable, resembled rather an Eastern

caravansary, where men found shelter indeed, but were obliged to

supply themselves with every thing else, than one of our modern inns;

The falconer passed through the apartment to a projecting latticed

window, which formed a sort of recess from the room itself; and having

here ensconced himself and his companion, he called for some

refreshments; and a tapster, after he had shouted for the twentieth

time, accommodated him with the remains of a cold capon and a neat's

tongue, together with a pewter stoup of weak French vin-de-pays.

"Fetch a stoup of brandy-wine, thou knave--We will be jolly to-night,

Master Roland," said he, when he saw himself thus accommodated, "and

let care come to-morrow."

But Roland had eaten too lately to enjoy the good cheer; and feeling

his curiosity much sharper than his appetite, he made it his choice to

look out of the lattice, which overhung a large yard, surrounded by

the stables of the hostelrie, and fed his eyes on the busy sight

beneath, while Adam Woodcock, after he had compared his companion to

the "Laird of Macfarlane's geese, who liked their play better than

their meat," disposed of his time with the aid of cup and trencher,

occasionally humming the burden of his birth-strangled ballad, and

beating time to it with his fingers on the little round table. In this

exercise he was frequently interrupted by the exclamations of his

companion, as he saw something new in the yard beneath, to attract and

interest him.

It was a busy scene, for the number of gentlemen and nobles who were

now crowded into the city, had filled all spare stables and places of

public reception with their horses and military attendants. There were

some score of yeomen, dressing their own or their masters' horses in

the yard, whistling, singing, laughing, and upbraiding each other, in

a style of wit which the good order of Avenel Castle rendered strange

to Roland Graeme's ears. Others were busy repairing their own arms, or

cleaning those of their masters. One fellow, having just bought a

bundle of twenty spears, was sitting in a corner, employed in painting

the white staves of the weapons with yellow and vermillion. Other

lacqueys led large stag-hounds, or wolf-dogs, of noble race, carefully

muzzled to prevent accidents to passengers. All came and went, mixed

together and separated, under the delighted eye of the page, whose

imagination had not even conceived a scene so gaily diversified with

the objects he had most pleasure in beholding; so that he was

perpetually breaking the quiet reverie of honest Woodcock, and the

mental progress which he was making in his ditty, by exclaiming, "Look

here, Adam--look at the bonny bay horse--Saint Anthony, what, a

gallant forehand he hath got!--and see the goodly gray, which yonder

fellow in the frieze-jacket is dressing as awkwardly as if he had

never touched aught but a cow--I would I were nigh him to teach him

his trade!--And lo you, Adam, the gay Milan armour that the yeoman is

scouring, all steel and silver, like our Knight's prime suit, of which

old Wingate makes such account--And see to yonder pretty wench, Adam,

who comes tripping through them all with her milk-pail--I warrant me

she has had a long walk from the loaning; she has a stammel waistcoat,

like your favourite Cicely Sunderland, Master Adam!"

"By my hood, lad," answered the falconer, "it is well for thee thou

wert brought up where grace grew. Even in the Castle of Avenel thou

wert a wild-blood enough, but hadst thou been nurtured here, within a

flight-shot of the Court, thou hadst been the veriest crack-hemp of a

page that ever wore feather in thy bonnet or steel by thy side: truly,

I wish it may end well with thee."

"Nay, but leave thy senseless humming and drumming, old Adam, and come

to the window ere thou hast drenched thy senses in the pint-pot there.

See here comes a merry minstrel with his crowd, and a wench with him,

that dances with bells at her ankles; and see, the yeomen and pages

leave their horses and the armour they were cleaning, and gather

round, as is very natural, to hear the music. Come, old Adam, we will

thither too."

"You shall call me cutt if I do go down," said Adam; "you are near as

good minstrelsy as the stroller can make, if you had but the grace to

listen to it."

"But the wench in the stammel waistcoat is stopping too, Adam--by

heaven, they are going to dance! Frieze-jacket wants to dance with

stammel waistcoat, but she is coy and recusant."

Then suddenly changing his tone of levity into one of deep interest

and surprise, he exclaimed, "Queen of Heaven! what is it that I see!"

and then remained silent.

The sage Adam Woodcock, who was in a sort of languid degree amused

with the page's exclamations, even while he professed to despise them,

became at length rather desirous to set his tongue once more a-going,

that he might enjoy the superiority afforded by his own intimate

familiarity with all the circumstances which excited in his young

companion's mind so much wonderment.

"Well, then," he said at last, "what is it you do see, Master Roland,

that you have become mute all of a sudden?"

Roland returned no answer.

"I say, Master Roland Graeme," said the falconer, "it is manners in my

country for a man to speak when he is spoken to."

Roland Graeme remained silent.

"The murrain is in the boy," said Adam Woodcock, "he has stared out

his eyes, and talked his tongue to pieces, I think."

The falconer hastily drank off his can of wine, and came to Roland,

who stood like a statue, with his eyes eagerly bent on the court-yard,

though Adam Woodcock was unable to detect amongst the joyous scenes

which it exhibited aught that could deserve such devoted attention.

"The lad is mazed!" said the falconer to himself.

But Roland Graeme had good reasons for his surprise, though they were

not such as he could communicate to his companion.

The touch of the old minstrel's instrument, for he had already begun

to play, had drawn in several auditors from the street when one

entered the gate of the yard, whose appearance exclusively arrested

the attention of Roland Graeme. He was of his own age, or a good deal

younger, and from his dress and bearing might be of the same rank and

calling, having all the air of coxcombry and pretension, which

accorded with a handsome, though slight and low figure, and an elegant

dress, in part hid by a large purple cloak. As he entered, he cast a

glance up towards the windows, and, to his extreme astonishment, under

the purple velvet bonnet and white feather, Roland recognized the

features so deeply impressed on his memory, the bright and clustered

tresses, the laughing full blue eyes, the well-formed eyebrows, the

nose, with the slightest possible inclination to be aquiline, the ruby

lip, of which an arch and half-suppressed smile seemed the habitual

expression--in short, the form and face of Catherine Seyton; in man's

attire, however, and mimicking, as it seemed, not unsuccessfully, the

bearing of a youthful but forward page.

"Saint George and Saint Andrew!" exclaimed the amazed Roland Graeme to

himself, "was there ever such an audacious quean!--she seems a little

ashamed of her mummery too, for she holds the lap of her cloak to her

face, and her colour is heightened--but Santa Maria, how she threads

the throng, with as firm and bold a step as if she had never tied

petticoat round her waist!--Holy Saints! she holds up her riding-rod

as if she would lay it about some of their ears, that stand most in

her way--by the hand of my father! she bears herself like the very

model of pagehood.--Hey! what! sure she will not strike frieze-jacket

in earnest?" But he was not long left in doubt; for the lout whom he

had before repeatedly noticed, standing in the way of the bustling

page, and maintaining his place with clownish obstinacy or stupidity,

the advanced riding-rod was, without a moment's hesitation, sharply

applied to his shoulders, in a manner which made him spring aside,

rubbing the part of the body which had received so unceremonious a

hint that it was in the way of his betters. The party injured growled

forth an oath or two of indignation, and Roland Graeme began to think

of flying down stairs to the assistance of the translated Catherine;

but the laugh of the yard was against frieze-jacket, which indeed had,

in those days, small chance of fair play in a quarrel with velvet and

embroidery; so that the fellow, who was menial in the inn, slunk back

to finish his task of dressing the bonny gray, laughed at by all, but

most by the wench in the stammel waistcoat, his fellow-servant, who,

to crown his disgrace, had the cruelty to cast an applauding smile

upon the author of the injury, while, with a freedom more like the

milk-maid of the town than she of the plains, she accosted him

with--"Is there any one you want here, my pretty gentleman, that you

seem in such haste?"

"I seek a sprig of a lad," said the seeming gallant, "with a sprig of

holly in his cap, black hair, and black eyes, green jacket, and the

air of a country coxcomb--I have sought him through every close and

alley in the Canongate, the fiend gore him!"

"Why, God-a-mercy, Nun!" muttered Roland Graeme, much bewildered.

"I will inquire him presently out for your fair young worship," said

the wench of the inn.

"Do," said the gallant squire, "and if you bring me to him, you shall

have a groat to-night, and a kiss on Sunday when you have on a cleaner

kirtle."

"Why, God-a-mercy, Nun!" again muttered Roland, "this is a note

above E La."

In a moment after, the servant entered the room, and ushered in the

object of his surprise.

While the disguised vestal looked with unabashed brow, and bold and

rapid glance of her eye, through the various parties in the large old

room, Roland Graeme, who felt an internal awkward sense of bashful

confusion, which he deemed altogether unworthy of the bold and dashing

character to which he aspired, determined not to be browbeaten and put

down by this singular female, but to meet her with a glance of

recognition so sly, so penetrating, so expressively humorous, as

should show her at once he was in possession of her secret and master

of her fate, and should compel her to humble herself towards him, at

least into the look and manner of respectful and deprecating

observance.

This was extremely well planned; but just as Roland had called up the

knowing glance, the suppressed smile, the shrewd intelligent look,

which was to ensure his triumph, he encountered the bold, firm, and

steady gaze of his brother or sister-page, who, casting on him a

falcon glance, and recognizing him at once as the object of his

search, walked up with the most unconcerned look, the most free and

undaunted composure, and hailed him with "You, Sir Holly-top, I would

speak with you."

The steady coolness and assurance with which these words were uttered,

although the voice was the very voice he had heard at the old convent,

and although the features more nearly resembled those of Catharine

when seen close than when viewed from a distance, produced,

nevertheless, such a confusion in Roland's mind, that he became

uncertain whether he was not still under a mistake from the beginning;

the knowing shrewdness which should have animated his visage faded

into a sheepish bashfulness, and the half-suppressed but most

intelligible smile, became the senseless giggle of one who laughs to

cover his own disorder of ideas.

"Do they understand a Scotch tongue in thy country, Holly-top?" said

this marvellous specimen of metamorphosis. "I said I would speak with

thee."

"What is your business with my comrade, my young chick of the game?"

said Adam Woodcock, willing to step in to his companion's assistance,

though totally at a loss to account for the sudden disappearance of

all Roland's usual smartness and presence of mind.

"Nothing to you, my old c**k of the perch," replied the gallant; "go

mind your hawk's castings. I guess by your bag and your gauntlet that

you are squire of the body to a sort of kites."

He laughed as he spoke, and the laugh reminded Roland so irresistibly

of the hearty fit of risibility, in which Catherine had indulged at

his expense when they first met in the old nunnery, that he could

scarce help exclaiming, "Catherine Seyton, by Heavens!"--He checked

the exclamation, however, and only said, "I think, sir, we two are not

totally strangers to each other."

"We must have met in our dreams then" said the youth; "and my days are

too busy to remember what I think on at nights."

"Or apparently to remember upon one day those whom you may have seen

on the preceding eve" said Roland Graeme.

The youth in his turn cast on him a look of some surprise, as he

replied, "I know no more of what you mean than does the horse I ride

on--if there be offence in your words, you shall find me ready to take

it as any lad in Lothian."

"You know well," said Roland, "though it pleases you to use the

language of a stranger, that with you I have no purpose to quarrel."

"Let me do mine errand, then, and be rid of you," said the page. "Step

hither this way, out of that old leathern fist's hearing."

They walked into the recess of the window, which Roland had left upon

the youth's entrance into the apartment. The messenger then turned his

back on the company, after casting a hasty and sharp glance around to

see if they were observed. Roland did the same, and the page in the

purple mantle thus addressed him, taking at the same time from under

his cloak a short but beautifully wrought sword, with the hilt and

ornaments upon the sheath of silver, massively chased and

over-gilded--"I bring you this weapon from a friend, who gives it you

under the solemn condition, that you will not unsheath it until you

are commanded by your rightful Sovereign. For your warmth of temper is

known, and the presumption with which you intrude yourself into the

quarrels of others; and, therefore, this is laid upon you as a penance

by those who wish you well, and whose hand will influence your destiny

for good or for evil. This is what I was charged to tell you. So if

you will give a fair word for a fair sword, and pledge your promise,

with hand and glove, good and well; and if not, I will carry back

Caliburn to those who sent it."

"And may I not ask who these are?" said Roland Graeme, admiring at the

same time the beauty of the weapon thus offered him.

"My commission in no way leads me to answer such a question," said he

of the purple mantle.

"But if I am offended" said Roland, "may I not draw to defend myself?"

"Not _this_ weapon," answered the sword-bearer; "but you have

your own at command, and, besides, for what do you wear your poniard?"

"For no good," said Adam Woodcock, who had now approached close to

them, "and that I can witness as well as any one."

"Stand back, fellow," said the messenger, "thou hast an intrusive

curious face, that will come by a buffet if it is found where it has

no concern."

"A buffet, my young Master Malapert?" said Adam, drawing back,

however; "best keep down fist, or, by Our Lady, buffet will beget

buffet!"

"Be patient, Adam Woodcock," said Roland Graeme; "and let me pray you,

fair sir, since by such addition you choose for the present to be

addressed, may I not barely unsheathe this fair weapon, in pure

simplicity of desire to know whether so fair a hilt and scabbard are

matched with a befitting blade?"

"By no manner of means," said the messenger; "at a word, you must take

it under the promise that you never draw it until you receive the

commands of your lawful Sovereign, or you must leave it alone."

"Under that condition, and coming from your friendly hand, I accept of

the sword," said Roland, taking it from his hand; "but credit me, if

we are to work together in any weighty emprise, as I am induced to

believe, some confidence and openness on your part will be necessary

to give the right impulse to my zeal--I press for no more at present,

it is enough that you understand me."

"I understand you!" said the page, exhibiting the appearance of

unfeigned surprise in his turn,--"Renounce me if I do!--here you stand

jiggeting, and sniggling, and looking cunning, as if there were some

mighty matter of intrigue and common understanding betwixt you and me,

whom you never set your eyes on before!"

"What!" said Roland Graeme, "will you deny that we have met before?"

"Marry that I will, in any Christian court," said the other page.

"And will you also deny," said Roland, "that it was recommended to us

to study each other's features well, that in whatever disguise the

time might impose upon us, each should recognize in the other the

secret agent of a mighty work? Do not you remember, that Sister

Magdalen and Dame Bridget----"

The messenger here interrupted him, shrugging up his shoulders, with a

look of compassion, "Bridget and Magdalen! why, this is madness and

dreaming! Hark ye, Master Holly-top, your wits are gone on

wool-gathering; comfort yourself with a caudle, and thatch your

brain-sick noddle with a woollen night-cap, and so God be with you!"

As he concluded this polite parting address, Adam Woodcock, who was

again seated by the table on which stood the now empty can, said to

him, "Will you drink a cup, young man, in the way of courtesy, now you

have done your errand, and listen to a good song?" and without waiting

for an answer, he commenced his ditty,--

And to worse it was soon likely to come; for no sooner did Woodcock's

ditty reach the ear of the stranger page, than, uplifting his

riding-rod, he exclaimed, "He who speaks irreverently of the Holy

Father of the church in my presence, is the cub of a heretic

wolf-b***h, and I will switch him as I would a mongrel-cur."

"And I will break thy young pate," said Adam, "if thou darest to lift

a finger to me." And then, in defiance of the young Drawcansir's

threats, with a stout heart and dauntless accent, he again uplifted

the stave.

"Thou hast hit it right for once, Holly-top," said the gallant,

"though I guess you drew your bow at a venture.--Here, host, let this

yeoman have a bottle of wine to wash the smart out of his eyes--and

there is a French crown for him." So saying, he threw the piece of

money on the table, and left the apartment, with a quick yet steady

pace, looking firmly at right and left, as if to defy interruption:

and snapping his fingers at two or three respectable burghers, who,

declaring it was a shame that any one should be suffered to rant and

ruffle in defence of the Pope, were labouring to find the hilts of

their swords, which had got for the present unhappily entangled in the

folds of their cloaks. But, as the adversary was gone ere any of them

had reached his weapon, they did not think it necessary to unsheath

cold iron, but merely observed to each other, "This is more than

masterful violence, to see a poor man stricken in the face just for

singing a ballad against the w***e of Babylon! If the Pope's champions

are to be bangsters in our very change-houses, we shall soon have the

old shavelings back again."

"The provost should look to it," said another, "and have some five or

six armed with partisans, to come in upon the first whistle, to teach

these gallants their lesson. For, look you, neighbour Lugleather, it

is not for decent householders like ourselves to be brawling with the

godless grooms and pert pages of the nobles, that are bred up to

little else save bloodshed and blasphemy."

"For all that, neighbour," said Lugleather, "I would have curried that

youngster as properly as ever I curried a lamb's hide, had not the

hilt of my bilbo been for the instant beyond my grasp; and before I

could turn my girdle, gone was my master!"

"Ay," said the others, "the devil go with him, and peace abide with

us--I give my rede, neighbours, that we pay the lawing, and be

stepping homeward, like brother and brother; for old Saint Giles's is

tolling curfew, and the street grows dangerous at night."

With that the good burghers adjusted their cloaks, and prepared for

their departure, while he that seemed the briskest of the three,

laying his hand on his Andrea Ferrara, observed, "that they that spoke

in the praise of the Pope on the High-gate of Edinburgh, had best

bring the sword of Saint Peter to defend them."

While the ill-humour excited by the insolence of the young aristocrat

was thus evaporating in empty menace, Roland Graeme had to control the

far more serious indignation of Adam Woodcock. "Why, man, it was but a

switch across the mazzard--blow your nose, dry your eyes, and you will

see all the better for it."

"By this light, which I cannot see," said Adam Woodcock, "thou hast

been a false friend to me, young man--neither taking up my rightful

quarrel, nor letting me fight it out myself."

"Fy for shame, Adam Woodcock," replied the youth, determined to turn

the tables on him, and become in turn the counsellor of good order and

peaceable demeanour--"I say, fy for shame!--Alas, that you will speak

thus! Here are you sent with me, to prevent my innocent youth getting

into snares----"

"I wish your innocent youth were cut short with a halter, with all my

heart," said Adam, who began to see which way the admonition tended.

--"And instead of setting before me," continued Roland, "an example of

patience and sobriety becoming the falconer of Sir Halbert

Glendinning, you quaff me off I know not how many flagons of ale,

besides a gallon of wine, and a full measure of strong waters."

"It was but one small pottle," said poor Adam, whom consciousness of

his own indiscretion now reduced to a merely defensive warfare.

"It was enough to pottle you handsomely, however," said the page--"And

then, instead of going to bed to sleep off your liquor, must you sit

singing your roistering songs about popes and pagans, till you have

got your eyes almost switched out of your head; and but for my

interference, whom your drunken ingratitude accuses of deserting you,

yon galliard would have cut your throat, for he was whipping out a

whinger as broad as my hand, and as sharp as a razor--And these are

lessons for an inexperienced youth!--Oh, Adam! out upon you! out upon

you!"

"Marry, amen, and with all my heart," said Adam; "out upon my folly

for expecting any thing but impertinent raillery from a page like

thee, that if he saw his father in a scrape, would laugh at him,

instead of lending him aid.

"Nay, but I will lend you aid," said the page, still laughing, "that

is, I will lend thee aid to thy chamber, good Adam, where thou shalt

sleep off wine and ale, ire and indignation, and awake the next

morning with as much fair wit as nature has blessed thee withal. Only

one thing I will warn thee, good Adam, that henceforth and for ever,

when thou railest at me for being somewhat hot at hand, and rather too

prompt to out with poniard or so, thy admonition shall serve as a

prologue to the memorable adventure of the switching of Saint

Michael's."

With such condoling expressions he got the crest-fallen falconer to

his bed, and then retired to his own pallet, where it was some time

ere he could fall asleep. If the messenger whom he had seen were

really Catherine Seyton, what a masculine virago and termagant must

she be! and stored with what an inimitable command of insolence and

assurance!--The brass on her brow would furbish the front of twenty

pages; "and I should know," thought Roland, "what that amounts to--And

yet, her features, her look, her light gait, her laughing eye, the art

with which she disposed the mantle to show no more of her limbs than

needs must be seen--I am glad she had at least that grace left--the

voice, the smile--it must have been Catherine Seyton, or the devil in

her likeness! One thing is good, I have silenced the eternal

predications of that ass, Adam Woodcock, who has set up for being a

preacher and a governor, over me, so soon as he has left the hawks'

mew behind him."

And with this comfortable reflection, joined to the happy indifference

which youth hath for the events of the morrow, Roland Graeme fell fast

asleep.