The Abbot

Chapter 4

When Roland Graeme was a youth about seventeen years of age, he

chanced one summer morning to descend to the mew in which Sir Halbert

Glendinning kept his hawks, in order to superintend the training of an

eyas, or young hawk, which he himself, at the imminent risk of neck

and limbs, had taken from the celebrated eyry in the neighborhood,

called Gledscraig. As he was by no means satisfied with the attention

which had been bestowed on his favourite bird, he was not slack in

testifying his displeasure to the falconer's lad, whose duty it was to

have attended upon it.

"What, ho! sir knave," exclaimed Roland, "is it thus you feed the eyas

with unwashed meat, as if you were gorging the foul brancher of a

worthless hoodie-crow? by the mass, and thou hast neglected its

castings also for these two days! Think'st thou I ventured my neck to

bring the bird down from the crag, that thou shouldst spoil him by thy

neglect?" And to add force to his remonstrances, he conferred a cuff

or two on the negligent attendant of the hawks, who, shouting rather

louder than was necessary under all the circumstances, brought the

master falconer to his assistance.

Adam Woodcock, the falconer of Avenel, was an Englishman by birth, but

so long in the service of Glendinning, that he had lost much of his

notional attachment in that which he had formed to his master. He was

a favourite in his department, jealous and conceited of his skill, as

masters of the game usually are; for the rest of his character he was

a jester and a parcel poet, (qualities which by no means abated his

natural conceit,) a jolly fellow, who, though a sound Protestant,

loved a flagon of ale better than a long sermon, a stout man of his

hands when need required, true to his master, and a little presuming

on his interest with him.

Adam Woodcock, such as we have described him, by no means relished the

freedom used by young Graeme, in chastising his assistant. "Hey, hey,

my Lady's page," said he, stepping between his own boy and Roland,

"fair and softly, an it like your gilt jacket--hands off is fair

play--if my boy has done amiss, I can beat him myself, and then you

may keep your hands soft."

"I will beat him and thee too," answered Roland, without hesitation,

"an you look not better after your business. See how the bird is cast

away between you. I found the careless lurdane feeding him with

unwashed flesh, and she an eyas." [Footnote: There is a difference

amongst authorities how long the nestling hawk should be fed with

flesh which has previously been washed.]

"Go to," said the falconer, "thou art but an eyas thyself, child

Roland.--What knowest thou of feeding? I say that the eyas should have

her meat unwashed, until she becomes a brancher--'twere the ready way

to give her the frounce, to wash her meat sooner, and so knows every

one who knows a gled from a falcon."

"It is thine own laziness, thou false English blood, that dost nothing

but drink and sleep," retorted the page, "and leaves that lither lad

to do the work, which he minds as little as thou."

"And am I so idle then," said the falconer, "that have three cast of

hawks to look after, at perch and mew, and to fly them in the field to

boot?--and is my Lady's page so busy a man that he must take me up

short?--and am I of false English blood?--I marvel what blood thou

art--neither Englander nor Scot--fish nor flesh--a bastard from the

Debateable Land, without either kith, kin, or ally!--Marry, out upon

thee, foul kite, that would fain be a tercel gentle!"

The reply to this sarcasm was a box on the ear, so well applied, that

it overthrew the falconer into the cistern in which water was kept for

the benefit of the hawks. Up started Adam Woodcock, his wrath no way

appeased by the cold immersion, and seizing on a truncheon which stood

by, would have soon requited the injury he had received, had not

Roland laid his hand on his poniard, and sworn by all that was sacred,

that if he offered a stroke towards him, he would sheath the blade in

his bowels. The noise was now so great, that more than one of the

household came in, and amongst others the major-domo, a grave

personage, already mentioned, whose gold chain and white wand

intimated his authority. At the appearance of this dignitary, the

strife was for the present appeased. He embraced, however, so

favourable an opportunity, to read Roland Graeme a shrewd lecture on

the impropriety of his deportment to his fellow-menials, and to assure

him, that, should he communicate this fray to his master, (who, though

now on one of his frequent expeditions, was speedily expected to

return,) which but for respect to his Lady he would most certainly do,

the residence of the culprit in the Castle of Avenel would be but of

brief duration. "But, however," added the prudent master of the

household, "I will report the matter first to my Lady."

"Very just, very right, Master Wingate," exclaimed several voices

together; "my Lady will consider if daggers, are to be drawn on us for

every idle word, and whether we are to live in a well-ordered

household, where there is the fear of God, or amidst drawn dirks and

sharp knives."

The object of this general resentment darted an angry glance around

him, and suppressing with difficulty the desire which urged him to

reply in furious or in contemptuous language, returned his dagger into

his scabbard, looked disdainfully around upon the assembled menials,

turned short upon his heel, and pushing aside those who stood betwixt

him and the door, left the apartment.

"This will be no tree for my nest," said the falconer, "if this

cock-sparrow is to crow over us as he seems to do."

"He struck me with his switch yesterday," said one of the grooms,

"because the tail of his worship's gelding was not trimmed altogether

so as suited his humour."

"And I promise you," said the laundress, "my young master will stick

nothing to call an honest woman slut and quean, if there be but a

speck of soot upon his band-collar."

"If Master Wingate do not his errand to my Lady," was the general

result, "there will be no tarrying in the same house with Roland

Graeme."

The master of the household heard them all for some time, and then,

motioning for universal silence, he addressed them with all the

dignity of Malvolio himself.--"My masters,--not forgetting you, my

mistresses,--do not think the worse of me that I proceed with as much

care as haste in this matter. Our master is a gallant knight, and will

have his sway at home and abroad, in wood and field, in hall and

bower, as the saying is. Our Lady, my benison upon her, is also a

noble person of long descent, and rightful heir of this place and

barony, and she also loves her will; as for that matter, show me the

woman who doth not. Now, she hath favoured, doth favour, and will

favour, this jack-an-ape,--for what good part about him I know not,

save that as one noble lady will love a messan dog, and another a

screaming popinjay, and a third a Barbary ape, so doth it please our

noble dame to set her affections upon this stray elf of a page, for

nought that I can think of, save that she--was the cause of his being

saved (the more's the pity) from drowning." And here Master Wingate

made a pause.

"I would have been his caution for a gray groat against salt water or

fresh," said Roland's adversary, the falconer; "marry, if he crack not

a rope for stabbing or for snatching, I will be content never to hood

hawk again."

"Peace, Adam Woodcock," said Wingate, waving his hand; "I prithee,

peace man--Now, my Lady liking this springald, as aforesaid, differs

therein from my Lord, who loves never a bone in his skin. Now, is it

for me to stir up strife betwixt them, and put as'twere my finger

betwixt the bark and the tree, on account of a pragmatical youngster,

whom, nevertheless, I would willingly see whipped forth of the barony?

Have patience, and this boil will break without our meddling. I have

been in service since I wore a beard on my chin, till now that that

beard is turned gray, and I have seldom known any one better

themselves, even by taking the lady's part against the lord's; but

never one who did not dirk himself, if he took the lord's against the

lady's."

"And so," said Lilias, "we are to be crowed over, every one of us, men

and women, c**k and hen, by this little upstart?--I will try titles

with him first, I promise you.--I fancy, Master Wingate, for as wise

as you look, you will be pleased to tell what you have seen to-day, if

my lady commands you?"

"To speak the truth when my lady commands me," answered the prudential

major-domo, "is in some measure my duty, Mistress Lilias; always

providing for and excepting those cases in which it cannot be spoken

without breeding mischief and inconvenience to myself or my

fellow-servants; for the tongue of a tale-bearer breaketh bones as

well as Jeddart-staff." [Footnote: A species of battle-axe, so called

as being in especial use in that ancient burgh, whose armorial bearing

still represent an armed horseman brandishing such a weapon.]

"But this imp of Satan is none of your friends or fellow-servants,"

said Lilias; "and I trust you mean not to stand up for him against the

whole family besides?"

"Credit me, Mrs. Lilias," replied the senior, "should I see the time

fitting, I would, with right good-will give him a lick with the rough

side of my tongue."

"Enough said, Master Wingate," answered Lilias; "then trust me his

song shall soon be laid. If my mistress does not ask me what is the

matter below stairs before she be ten minutes of time older, she is no

born woman, and my name is not Lilias Bradbourne."

In pursuance of her plan, Mistress Lilias failed not to present

herself before her mistress with all the exterior of one who is

possessed of an important secret,--that is, she had the corners of her

mouth turned down, her eyes raised up, her lips pressed as fast

together as if they had been sewed up, to prevent her babbling, and an

air of prim mystical importance diffused over her whole person and

demeanour, which seemed to intimate, "I know something which I am

resolved not to tell you!"

Lilias had rightly read her mistress's temper, who, wise and good as

she was, was yet a daughter of grandame Eve, and could not witness

this mysterious bearing on the part of her waiting-woman without

longing to ascertain the secret cause. For a space, Mrs. Lilias was

obdurate to all inquiries, sighed, turned her eyes up higher yet to

heaven, hoped for the best, but had nothing particular to communicate.

All this, as was most natural and proper, only stimulated the Lady's

curiosity; neither was her importunity to be parried with,--"Thank

God, I am no makebate--no tale-bearer,--thank God, I never envied any

one's favour, or was anxious to propale their misdemeanour-only, thank

God, there has been no bloodshed and murder in the house--that is

all."

"Bloodshed and murder!" exclaimed the Lady, "what does the quean

mean?--if you speak not plain out, you shall have something you will

scarce be thankful for."

"Nay, my Lady," answered Lilias, eager to disburden her mind, or, in,

Chaucer's phrase, to "unbuckle her mail," "if you bid me speak out the

truth, you must not be moved with what might displease you--Roland

Graeme has dirked Adam Woodstock--that is all."

"Good Heaven!" said the Lady, turning pale as ashes, "is the man

slain?"

"No, madam," replied Lilias, "but slain he would have been, if there

had not been ready help; but may be, it is your Ladyship's pleasure

that this young esquire shall poniard the servants, as well as switch

and baton them."

"Go to, minion," said the Lady, "you are saucy-tell the master of the

household to attend me instantly."

Lilias hastened to seek out Mr. Wingate, and hurry him to his lady's

presence, speaking as a word in season to him on the way, "I have set

the stone a-trowling, look that you do not let it stand still."

The steward, too prudential a person to commit himself otherwise,

answered by a sly look and a nod of intelligence, and presently after

stood in the presence of the Lady of Avenel, with a look of great

respect for his lady, partly real, partly affected, and an air of

great sagacity, which inferred no ordinary conceit of himself.

"How is this, Wingate," said the Lady, "and what rule do you keep in

the castle, that the domestics of Sir Halbert Glendinning draw the

dagger on each other, as in a cavern of thieves and murderers?--is the

wounded man much hurt? and what--what hath become of the unhappy boy?"

"There is no one wounded as yet, madam," replied he of the golden

chain; "it passes my poor skill to say how many may be wounded before

Pasche, [Footnote: Easter.] if some rule be not taken with this

youth--not but the youth is a fair youth," he added, correcting

himself, "and able at his exercise; but somewhat too ready with the

ends of his fingers, the butt of his riding-switch, and the point of

his dagger."

"And whose fault is that," said the Lady, "but yours, who should have

taught him better discipline, than to brawl or to draw his dagger."

"If it please your Ladyship so to impose the blame on me," answered

the steward, "it is my part, doubtless, to bear it--only I submit to

your consideration, that unless I nailed his weapon to the scabbard, I

could no more keep it still, than I could fix quicksilver, which

defied even the skill of Raymond Lullius."

"Tell me not of Raymond Lullius," said the Lady, losing patience, "but

send me the chaplain hither. You grow all of you too wise for me,

during your lord's long and repeated absences. I would to God his

affairs would permit him to remain at home and rule his own household,

for it passes my wit and skill!"

"God forbid, my Lady!" said the old domestic, "that you should

sincerely think what you are now pleased to say: your old servants

might well hope, that after so many years' duty, you would do their

service more justice than to distrust their gray hairs, because they

cannot rule the peevish humour of a green head, which the owner

carries, it may be, a brace of inches higher than becomes him."

"Leave me," said the Lady; "Sir Halbert's return must now be expected

daily, and he will look into these matters himself--leave me, I say,

Wingate, without saying more of it. I know you are honest, and I

believe the boy is petulant; and yet I think it is my favour which

hath set all of you against him."

The steward bowed and retired, after having been silenced in a second

attempt to explain the motives on which he acted.

The chaplain arrived; but neither from him did the Lady receive much

comfort. On the contrary, she found him disposed, in plain terms, to

lay to the door of her indulgence all the disturbances which the fiery

temper of Roland Graeme had already occasioned, or might hereafter

occasion, in the family. "I would," he said, "honoured Lady, that you

had deigned to be ruled by me in the outset of this matter, sith it is

easy to stem evil in the fountain, but hard to struggle against it in

the stream. You, honoured madam, (a word which I do not use according

to the vain forms of this world, but because I have ever loved and

honoured you as an honourable and elect lady,)--you, I say, madam,

have been pleased, contrary to my poor but earnest counsel, to raise

this boy from his station, into one approaching to your own."

"What mean you, reverend sir?" said the Lady; "I have made this

youth a page--is there aught in my doing so that does not become my

character and quality?"

"I dispute not, madam," said the pertinacious preacher, "your

benevolent purpose in taking charge of this youth, or your title to

give him this idle character of page, if such was your pleasure;

though what the education of a boy in the train of a female can tend

to, save to ingraft foppery and effeminacy on conceit and arrogance,

it passes my knowledge to discover. But I blame you more directly for

having taken little care to guard him against the perils of his

condition, or to tame and humble a spirit naturally haughty,

overbearing, and impatient. You have brought into your bower a lion's

cub; delighted with the beauty of his fur, and the grace of his

gambols, you have bound him with no fetters befitting the fierceness

of his disposition. You have let him grow up as unawed as if he had

been still a tenant of the forest, and now you are surprised, and call

out for assistance, when he begins to ramp, rend, and tear, according

to his proper nature."

"Mr. Warden," said the Lady, considerably offended, "you are my

husband's ancient friend, and I believe your love sincere to him and

to his household. Yet let me say, that when I asked you for counsel, I

expected not this asperity of rebuke. If I have done wrong in loving

this poor orphan lad more than others of his class, I scarce think the

error merited such severe censure; and if stricter discipline were

required to keep his fiery temper in order, it ought, I think, to be

considered, that I am a woman, and that if I have erred in this

matter, it becomes a friend's part rather to aid than to rebuke me. I

would these evils were taken order with before my lord's return. He

loves not domestic discord or domestic brawls; and I would not

willingly that he thought such could arise from one whom I

favoured--What do you counsel me to do?"

"Dismiss this youth from your service, madam," replied the preacher.

"You cannot bid me do so," said the Lady; "you cannot, as a Christian

and a man of humanity, bid me turn away an unprotected creature

against whom my favour, my injudicious favour if you will, has reared

up so many enemies."

"It is not necessary you should altogether abandon him, though you

dismiss him to another service, or to a calling better suiting his

station and character," said the preacher; "elsewhere he maybe an

useful and profitable member of the commonweal--here he is but a

makebate, and a stumbling-block of offence. The youth has snatches of

sense and of intelligence, though he lacks industry. I will myself

give him letters commendatory to Olearius Schinderhausen, a learned

professor at the famous university of Leyden, where they lack an

under-janitor--where, besides gratis instruction, if God give him the

grace to seek it, he will enjoy five merks by the year, and the

professor's cast-off suit, which he disparts with biennially."

"This will never do, good Mr. Warden," said the Lady, scarce able to

suppress a smile; "we will think more at large upon this matter. In

the meanwhile, I trust to your remonstrances with this wild boy and

with the family, for restraining these violent and unseemly jealousies

and bursts of passion; and I entreat you to press on him and them

their duty in this respect towards God, and towards their master."

"You shall be obeyed, madam," said Warden. "On the next Thursday I

exhort the family, and will, with God's blessing, so wrestle with the

demon of wrath and violence, which hath entered into my little flock,

that I trust to hound the wolf out of the fold, as if he were chased

away with bandogs."

This was the part of the conference from which Mr. Warden derived the

greatest pleasure. The pulpit was at that time the same powerful

engine for affecting popular feeling which the press has since become,

and he had been no unsuccessful preacher, as we have already seen. It

followed as a natural consequence, that he rather over-estimated the

powers of his own oratory, and, like some of his brethren about the

period, was glad of an opportunity to handle any matters of

importance, whether public or private, the discussion of which could

be dragged into his discourse. In that rude age the delicacy was

unknown which prescribed time and place to personal exhortations; and

as the court-preacher often addressed the King individually, and

dictated to him the conduct he ought to observe in matters of state,

so the nobleman himself, or any of his retainers, were, in the chapel

of the feudal castle, often incensed or appalled, as the case might

be, by the discussion of their private faults in the evening exercise,

and by spiritual censures directed against them, specifically,

personally, and by name. The sermon, by means of which Henry Warden

purposed to restore concord and good order to the Castle of Avenel,

bore for text the well-known words, "_He who striketh with the sword

shall perish by the sword,_" and was a singular mixture of good

sense and powerful oratory with pedantry and bad taste. He enlarged a

good deal on the word striketh, which he assured his hearers

comprehended blows given with the point as well as with the edge, and

more generally, shooting with hand-gun, cross-bow, or long-bow,

thrusting with a lance, or doing any thing whatever by which death

might be occasioned to the adversary. In the same manner, he proved

satisfactorily, that the word sword comprehended all descriptions,

whether backsword or basket-hilt, cut-and-thrust or rapier, falchion,

or scimitar. "But if," he continued, with still greater animation,

"the text includeth in its anathema those who strike with any of those

weapons which man hath devised for the exercise of his open hostility,

still more doth it comprehend such as from their form and size are

devised rather for the gratification of privy malice by treachery,

than for the destruction of an enemy prepared and standing upon his

defence. Such," he proceeded, looking sternly at the place where the

page was seated on a cushion at the feet of his mistress, and wearing

in his crimson belt a gay dagger with a gilded hilt,--"such, more

especially, I hold to be those implements of death, which, in our

modern and fantastic times, are worn not only by thieves and

cut-throats, to whom they most properly belong, but even by those who

attend upon women, and wait in the chambers of honourable ladies. Yes,

my friends,--every species of this unhappy weapon, framed for all evil

and for no good, is comprehended under this deadly denunciation,

whether it be a stillet, which we have borrowed from the treacherous

Italian, or a dirk, which is borne by the savage Highlandman, or a

whinger, which is carried by our own Border thieves and cut-throats,

or a dudgeon-dagger, all are alike engines invented by the devil

himself, for ready implements of deadly wrath, sudden to execute, and

difficult to be parried. Even the common sword-and-buckler brawler

despises the use of such a treacherous and malignant instrument, which

is therefore fit to be used, not by men or soldiers, but by those who,

trained under female discipline, become themselves effeminate

hermaphrodites, having female spite and female cowardice added to the

infirmities and evil passions of their masculine nature."

The effect which this oration produced upon the assembled congregation

of Avenel cannot very easily be described. The lady seemed at once

embarrassed and offended; the menials could hardly contain, under an

affectation of deep attention, the joy with which they heard the

chaplain launch his thunders at the head of the unpopular favourite,

and the weapon which they considered as a badge of affectation and

finery. Mrs. Lilias crested and drew up her head with all the

deep-felt pride of gratified resentment; while the steward, observing

a strict neutrality of aspect, fixed his eyes upon an old scutcheon on

the opposite side of the wall, which he seemed to examine with the

utmost accuracy, more willing, perhaps, to incur the censure of being

inattentive to the sermon, than that of seeming to listen with marked

approbation to what appeared so distasteful to his mistress.

The unfortunate subject of the harangue, whom nature had endowed with

passions which had hitherto found no effectual restraint, could not

disguise the resentment which he felt at being thus directly held up

to the scorn, as well as the censure, of the assembled inhabitants of

the little world in which he lived. His brow grew red, his lip grew

pale, he set his teeth, he clenched his hand, and then with mechanical

readiness grasped the weapon of which the clergyman had given so

hideous a character; and at length, as the preacher heightened the

colouring of his invective, he felt his rage become so ungovernable,

that, fearful of being hurried into some deed of desperate violence,

he rose up, traversed the chapel with hasty steps, and left the

congregation.

The preacher was surprised into a sudden pause, while the fiery youth

shot across him like a flash of lightning, regarding him as he passed,

as if he had wished to dart from his eyes the same power of blighting

and of consuming. But no sooner had he crossed the chapel, and shut

with violence behind him the door of the vaulted entrance by which it

communicated with the castle, than the impropriety of his conduct

supplied Warden with one of those happier subjects for eloquence, of

which he knew how to take advantage for making a suitable impression

on his hearers. He paused for an instant, and then pronounced, in a

slow and solemn voice, the deep anathema: "He hath gone out from us

because he was not of us--the sick man hath been offended at the

wholesome bitter of the medicine--the wounded patient hath flinched

from the friendly knife of the surgeon--the sheep hath fled from the

sheepfold and delivered himself to the wolf, because he could not

assume the quiet and humble conduct demanded of us by the great

Shepherd. Ah! my brethren, beware of wrath--beware of pride--beware

of the deadly and destroying sin which so often shows itself to our

frail eyes in the garments of light! What is our earthly honour?

Pride, and pride only--What our earthly gifts and graces? Pride and

vanity. Voyagers speak of Indian men who deck themselves with shells,

and anoint themselves with pigments, and boast of their attire as we

do of our miserable carnal advantages--Pride could draw down the

morning-star from Heaven even to the verge of the pit--Pride and

self-opinion kindled the flaming sword which waves us off from

Paradise--Pride made Adam mortal, and a weary wanderer on the face of

the earth, which he had else been at this day the immortal lord

of--Pride brought amongst us sin, and doubles every sin it has

brought. It is the outpost which the devil and the flesh most

stubbornly maintain against the assaults of grace; and until it be

subdued, and its barriers levelled with the very earth, there is more

hope of a fool than of the sinner. Rend, then, from your bosoms this

accursed shoot of the fatal apple; tear it up by the roots, though it

be twisted with the chords of your life. Profit by the example of the

miserable sinner that has passed from us, and embrace the means of

grace while it is called to-day 'ere your conscience is seared as with

a fire-brand, and your ears deafened like those of the adder, and your

heart hardened like the nether mill-stone. Up, then, and be

doing--wrestle and overcome; resist, and the enemy shall flee from

you--Watch and pray, lest ye fall into temptation, and let the

stumbling of others be your warning and your example. Above all, rely

not on yourselves, for such self-confidence is even the worst symptom

of the disorder itself. The Pharisee, perhaps, deemed himself humble

while he stooped in the Temple, and thanked God that he was not as

other men, and even as the publican. But while his knees touched the

marble pavement, his head was as high as the topmost pinnacle of the

Temple. Do not, therefore, deceive yourselves, and offer false coin,

where the purest you can present is but as dross--think not that

such--will pass the assay of Omnipotent Wisdom. Yet shrink not from

the task, because, as is my bounden duty, I do not disguise from you

its difficulties. Self-searching can do much--Meditation can do

much--Grace can do all."

And he concluded with a touching and animating exhortation to his

hearers to seek divine grace, which is perfected in human wakness.

The audience did not listen to this address without being considerably

affected; though it might be doubted whether the feelings of triumph,

excited by the disgraceful retreat of the favourite page, did not

greatly qualify in the minds of many the exhortations of the preacher

to charity and to humility. And, in fact, the expression of their

countenances much resembled the satisfied triumphant air of a set of

children, who, having just seen a companion punished for a fault in

which they had no share, con their task with double glee, both because

they themselves are out of the scrape, and because the culprit is in

it.

With very different feelings did the Lady of Avenel seek her own

apartment. She felt angry at Warden having made a domestic matter, in

which she took a personal interest, the subject of such public

discussion. But this she knew the good man claimed as a branch of his

Christian liberty as a preacher, and also that it was vindicated by

the universal custom of his brethren. But the self-willed conduct of

her proteg afforded her yet deeper concern. That he had broken

through in so remarkable a degree, not only the respect due to her

presence, but that which was paid to religious admonition in those

days with such peculiar reverence, argued a spirit as untameable as

his enemies had represented him to possess. And yet so far as he had

been under her own eye, she had seen no more of that fiery spirit than

appeared to her to become his years and his vivacity. This opinion

might be founded in some degree on partiality; in some degree, too, it

might be owing to the kindness and indulgence which she had always

extended to him; but still she thought it impossible that she could be

totally mistaken in the estimate she had formed of his character. The

extreme of violence is scarce consistent with a course of continued

hypocrisy, (although Lilias charitably hinted, that in some instances

they were happily united,) and there fore she could not exactly trust

the report of others against her own experience and observation. The

thoughts of this orphan boy clung to her heartstrings with a fondness

for which she herself was unable to account. He seemed to have been

sent to her by Heaven, to fill up those intervals of languor and

vacuity which deprived her of much enjoyment. Perhaps he was not less

dear to her, because she well saw that he was a favourite with no one

else, and because she felt, that to give him up was to afford the

judgment of her husband and others a triumph over her own; a

circumstance not quite indifferent to the best of spouses of either

sex.

In short, the Lady of Avenel formed the internal resolution, that she

would not desert her page while her page could be rationally

protected; and, with a view of ascertaining how far this might be

done, she caused him to be summoned to her presence.