The Abbot Read online

  Chapter the Second.

  How steadfastly he fix'd his eyes on me-- His dark eyes shining through forgotten tears-- Then stretch'd his little arms, and call'd me mother! What could I do? I took the bantling home-- I could not tell the imp he had no mother. COUNT BASIL.

  When Warden had left the apartment, the Lady of Avenel gave way to thefeelings of tenderness which the sight of the boy, his sudden danger,and his recent escape, had inspired; and no longer awed by thesternness, as she deemed it, of the preacher, heaped with caresses thelovely and interesting child. He was now, in some measure, recoveredfrom the consequences of his accident, and received passively, thoughnot without wonder, the tokens of kindness with which he was thusloaded. The face of the lady was strange to him, and her dress differentand far more sumptuous than any he remembered. But the boy was naturallyof an undaunted temper; and indeed children are generally acutephysiognomists, and not only pleased by that which is beautiful initself, but peculiarly quick in distinguishing and replying to theattentions of those who really love them. If they see a person incompany, though a perfect stranger, who is by nature fond of children,the little imps seem to discover it by a sort of free-masonry, while theawkward attempts of those who make advances to them for the purpose ofrecommending themselves to the parents, usually fail in attracting theirreciprocal attention. The little boy, therefore, appeared in some degreesensible of the lady's caresses, and it was with difficulty she withdrewherself from his pillow, to afford him leisure for necessary repose.

  "To whom belongs our little rescued varlet?" was the first questionwhich the Lady of Avenel put to her handmaiden Lilias, when they hadretired to the hall.

  "To an old woman in the hamlet," said Lilias, "who is even now come sofar as the porter's lodge to inquire concerning his safety. Is it yourpleasure that she be admitted?"

  "Is it my pleasure?" said the Lady of Avenel, echoing the question witha strong accent of displeasure and surprise; "can you make any doubtof it? What woman but must pity the agony of the mother, whose heart isthrobbing for the safety of a child so lovely!"

  "Nay, but, madam," said Lilias, "this woman is too old to be the motherof the child; I rather think she must be his grandmother, or some moredistant relation."

  "Be she who she will, Lilias," replied the Lady, "she must have anaching heart while the safety of a creature so lovely is uncertain.Go instantly and bring her hither. Besides, I would willingly learnsomething concerning his birth."

  Lilias left the hall, and presently afterwards returned, ushering in atall female very poorly dressed, yet with more pretension to decencyand cleanliness than was usually combined with such coarse garments. TheLady of Avenel knew her figure the instant she presented herself. It wasthe fashion of the family, that upon every Sabbath, and on two eveningsin the week besides, Henry Warden preached or lectured in the chapel atthe castle. The extension of the Protestant faith was, upon principle,as well as in good policy, a primary object with the Knight of Avenel.The inhabitants of the village were therefore invited to attend upon theinstructions of Henry Warden, and many of them were speedily won tothe doctrine which their master and protector approved. These sermons,homilies, and lectures, had made a great impression on the mind of theAbbot Eustace, or Eustatius, and were a sufficient spur to the severityand sharpness of his controversy with his old fellow-collegiate;and, ere Queen Mary was dethroned, and while the Catholics still hadconsiderable authority in the Border provinces, he more than oncethreatened to levy his vassals, and assail and level with the earththat stronghold of heresy the Castle of Avenel. But notwithstanding theAbbot's impotent resentment, and notwithstanding also the disinclinationof the country to favour the new religion, Henry Warden proceededwithout remission in his labours, and made weekly converts from thefaith of Rome to that of the reformed church. Amongst those who gavemost earnest and constant attendance on his ministry, was the agedwoman, whose form, tall, and otherwise too remarkable to be forgotten,the Lady had of late observed frequently as being conspicuous among thelittle audience. She had indeed more than once desired to know whothat stately-looking woman was, whose appearance was so much above thepoverty of her vestments. But the reply had always been, that she was anEnglishwoman, who was tarrying for a season at the hamlet, and thatno one knew more concerning her. She now asked her after her name andbirth.

  "Magdalen Graeme is my name," said the woman; "I come of the Graemes ofHeathergill, in Nicol Forest, [Footnote: A district of Cumberland, lyingclose to the Scottish border.] a people of ancient blood."

  "And what make you," continued the Lady, "so far distant from yourhome?"

  "I have no home," said Magdalen Graeme, "it was burnt by yourBorder-riders--my husband and my son were slain--there is not a drop'sblood left in the veins of any one which is of kin to mine."

  "That is no uncommon fate in these wild times, and in this unsettledland," said the Lady; "the English hands have been as deeply dyed in ourblood as ever those of Scotsmen have been in yours."

  "You have right to say it, Lady," answered Magdalen Graeme; "for mentell of a time when this castle was not strong enough to save yourfather's life, or to afford your mother and her infant a place ofrefuge. And why ask ye me, then, wherefore I dwell not in mine own home,and with mine own people?"

  "It was indeed an idle question," answered the Lady, "where misery sooften makes wanderers; but wherefore take refuge in a hostile country?"

  "My neighbours were Popish and mass-mongers," said the old woman; "ithas pleased Heaven to give me a clearer sight of the gospel, and I havetarried here to enjoy the ministry of that worthy man Henry Warden, who,to the praise and comfort of many, teacheth the Evangel in truth and insincerity."

  "Are you poor?" again demanded the Lady of Avenel.

  "You hear me ask alms of no one," answered the Englishwoman.

  Here there was a pause. The manner of the woman was, if notdisrespectful, at least much less than gracious; and she appeared togive no encouragement to farther communication. The Lady of Avenelrenewed the conversation on a different topic.

  "You have heard of the danger in which your boy has been placed?"

  "I have, Lady, and how by an especial providence he was rescued fromdeath. May Heaven make him thankful, and me!"

  "What relation do you bear to him?"

  "I am his grandmother, lady, if it so please you; the only relation hehath left upon earth to take charge of him."

  "The burden of his maintenance must necessarily be grievous to you inyour deserted situation?" pursued the Lady.

  "I have complained of it to no one," said Magdalen Graeme, with the sameunmoved, dry, and unconcerned tone of voice, in which she had answeredall the former questions.

  "If," said the Lady of Avenel, "your grandchild could be received into anoble family, would it not advantage both him and you?"

  "Received into a noble family!" said the old woman, drawing herself up,and bending her brows until her forehead was wrinkled into a frown ofunusual severity; "and for what purpose, I pray you?--to be my lady'spage, or my lord's jackman, to eat broken victuals, and contend withother menials for the remnants of the master's meal? Would you havehim to fan the flies from my lady's face while she sleeps, to carryher train while she walks, to hand her trencher when she feeds, to ridebefore her on horseback, to walk after her on foot, to sing when shelists, and to be silent when she bids?--a very weathercock, which,though furnished in appearance with wings and plumage, cannot soar intothe air--cannot fly from the spot where it is perched, but receives allits impulse, and performs all its revolutions, obedient to the changefulbreath of a vain woman? When the eagle of Helvellyn perches on the towerof Lanercost, and turns and changes his place to show how the wind sits,Roland Graeme shall be what you would make him."

  The woman spoke with a rapidity and vehemence which seemed to have in ita touch of insanity; and a sudden sense of the danger to which the childmust necessarily be exposed in the charge of such a keeper, increasedthe Lady's desire t
o keep him in the castle if possible.

  "You mistake me, dame," she said, addressing the old woman in a soothingmanner; "I do not wish your boy to be in attendance on myself, but uponthe good knight my husband. Were he himself the son of a belted earl,he could not better be trained to arms, and all that befits a gentleman,than by the instructions and discipline of Sir Halbert Glendinning."

  "Ay," answered the old woman, in the same style of bitter irony, "I knowthe wages of that service;--a curse when the corslet is not sufficientlybrightened,--a blow when the girth is not tightly drawn,--to be beatenbecause the hounds are at fault,--to be reviled because the foray isunsuccessful,--to stain his hands for the master's bidding in the bloodalike of beast and of man,--to be a butcher of harmless deer, a murdererand defacer of God's own image, not at his own pleasure, but at that ofhis lord,--to live a brawling ruffian, and a common stabber--exposed toheat, to cold, to want of food, to all the privations of an anchoret,not for the love of God, but for the service of Satan,--to die by thegibbet, or in some obscure skirmish,--to sleep out his brief lifein carnal security, and to awake in the eternal fire, which is neverquenched."

  "Nay," said the Lady of Avenel, "but to such unhallowed course of lifeyour grandson will not be here exposed. My husband is just and kind tothose who live under his banner; and you yourself well know, that youthhave here a strict as well as a good preceptor in the person of ourchaplain."

  The old woman appeared to pause.

  "You have named," she said, "the only circumstance which can move me. Imust soon onward, the vision has said it--I must not tarry in the samespot--I must on,--I must on, it is my weird.--Swear, then, that you willprotect the boy as if he were your own, until I return hither and claimhim, and I will consent for a space to part with him. But especiallyswear, he shall not lack the instruction of the godly man who hathplaced the gospel-truth high above those idolatrous shavelings, themonks and friars."

  "Be satisfied, dame," said the Lady of Avenel; "the boy shall have asmuch care as if he were born of my own blood. Will you see him now?"

  "No," answered the old woman sternly; "to part is enough. I go forthon my own mission. I will not soften my heart by useless tears andwailings, as one that is not called to a duty."

  "Will you not accept of something to aid you in your pilgrimage?" saidthe Lady of Avenel, putting into her hands two crowns of the sun. Theold woman flung them down on the table.

  "Am I of the race of Cain," she said, "proud Lady, that you offer megold in exchange for my own flesh and blood?"

  "I had no such meaning," said the Lady, gently; "nor am I the proudwoman you term me. Alas! my own fortunes might have taught me humility,even had it not been born with me."

  The old woman seemed somewhat to relax her tone of severity.

  "You are of gentle blood," she said, "else we had not parleyed thus longtogether.--You are of gentle blood, and to such," she added, drawing upher tall form as she spoke, "pride is as graceful as is the plume uponthe bonnet. But for these pieces of gold, lady, you must needs resumethem. I need not money. I am well provided; and I may not care formyself, nor think how, or by whom, I shall be sustained. Farewell, andkeep your word. Cause your gates to be opened, and your bridges to belowered. I will set forward this very night. When I come again, I willdemand from you a strict account, for I have left with you the jewel ofmy life! Sleep will visit me but in snatches, food will not refresh me,rest will not restore my strength, until I see Roland Graeme. Once more,farewell."

  "Make your obeisance, dame," said Lilias to Magdalen Graeme, as sheretired, "make your obeisance to her ladyship, and thank her for hergoodness, as is but fitting and right."

  The old woman turned short around on the officious waiting-maid. "Lether make her obeisance to me then, and I will return it. Why shouldI bend to her?--is it because her kirtle is of silk, and mine of bluelockeram?--Go to, my lady's waiting-woman. Know that the rank of the manrates that of the wife, and that she who marries a churl's son, were shea king's daughter, is but a peasant's bride."

  Lilias was about to reply in great indignation, but her mistress imposedsilence on her, and commanded that the old woman should be safelyconducted to the mainland.

  "Conduct her safe!" exclaimed the incensed waiting-woman, while MagdalenGraeme left the apartment; "I say, duck her in the loch, and then wewill see whether she is witch or not, as every body in the village ofLochside will say and swear. I marvel your ladyship could bear so longwith her insolence." But the commands of the Lady were obeyed, and theold dame, dismissed from the castle, was committed to her fortune. Shekept her word, and did not long abide in that place, leaving the hamleton the very night succeeding the interview, and wandering no one askedwhither. The Lady of Avenel inquired under what circumstances she hadappeared among them, but could only learn that she was believed tobe the widow of some man of consequence among the Graemes who theninhabited the Debateable Land, a name given to a certain portion ofterritory which was the frequent subject of dispute betwixt Scotlandand England--that she had suffered great wrong in some of the frequentforays by which that unfortunate district was wasted, and had beendriven from her dwelling-place. She had arrived in the hamlet no oneknew for what purpose, and was held by some to be a witch, by others azealous Protestant, and by others again a Catholic devotee. Her languagewas mysterious, and her manners repulsive; and all that could becollected from her conversation seemed to imply that she was under theinfluence either of a spell or of a vow,--there was no saying which,since she talked as one who acted under a powerful and external agency.

  Such were the particulars which the Lady's inquiries were ableto collect concerning Magdalen Graeme, being far too meagre andcontradictory to authorize any satisfactory deduction. In truth, themiseries of the time, and the various turns of fate incidental to afrontier country, were perpetually chasing from their habitations thosewho had not the means of defence or protection. These wanderers in theland were too often seen, to excite much attention or sympathy. Theyreceived the cold relief which was extorted by general feelings ofhumanity; a little excited in some breasts, and perhaps rather chilledin others, by the recollection that they who gave the charity to-daymight themselves want it to-morrow. Magdalen Graeme, therefore, came anddeparted like a shadow from the neighbourhood of Avenel Castle.

  The boy whom Providence, as she thought, had thus strangely placedunder her care, was at once established a favourite with the Lady ofthe castle. How could it be otherwise? He became the object of thoseaffectionate feelings, which, finding formerly no object on which toexpand themselves, had increased the gloom of the castle, and imbitteredthe solitude of its mistress. To teach him reading and writing as far asher skill went, to attend to his childish comforts, to watch his boyishsports, became the Lady's favourite amusement. In her circumstances,where the ear only heard the lowing of the cattle from the distanthills, or the heavy step of the warder as he walked upon his post,or the half-envied laugh of her maiden as she turned her wheel, theappearance of the blooming and beautiful boy gave an interest whichcan hardly be conceived by those who live amid gayer and busier scenes.Young Roland was to the Lady of Avenel what the flower, which occupiesthe window of some solitary captive, is to the poor wight by whom it isnursed and cultivated,--something which at once excited and repaidher care; and in giving the boy her affection, she felt, as it were,grateful to him for releasing her from the state of dull apathy inwhich she had usually found herself during the absence of Sir HalbertGlendinning.

  But even the charms of this blooming favourite were unable to chase therecurring apprehensions which arose from her husband's procrastinatedreturn. Soon after Roland Graeme became a resident at the castle, agroom, despatched by Sir Halbert, brought tidings that business stilldelayed the Knight at the Court of Holyrood. The more distant periodwhich the messenger had assigned for his master's arrival at lengthglided away, summer melted into autumn, and autumn was about to giveplace to winter, and yet he came not.