The arrival of these heroes added a great deal to the hilarity, tilting, and other military amusements at Roxburgh; until at last the 24th of December arrived, and with it the word that the King and Queen were on their way to Roxburgh, and approaching by the wild path of Soutra-edge. There was no bustle at the castle or city of Roxburgh, save by the city dames and maidens, for whom the approaching festival appeared a glorious epocha; for since the days of Edward Longshanks, who kept his court there for some weeks, there had not been a crowned head within the precincts of that illustrious city. Consequently, with these fair denizens, and with the merchants who attended that mart once a year from many of the towns on the Continent, it was a time of hurry and preparation; but with the warriors it was far otherwise. They were ready before; every one being alike anxious to fulfil the part entrusted to him,—so that they had nothing ado but to mount and ride in the order assigned to them.
First of all rode Sir Ringan Redhough, supported by all the gentlemen of the middle and west marches—the Scotts, the Elliots, the Armstrongs, and the Olivers, were the most powerful of these: And next in order came the Laidlaws, the Brydens, the Glendenyngs, and the Potts. After them rode the copper-nosed Kers, the towzy Turnbulls, and the red-wudd Ridderfords; for in those days every sept had some additional appellative or by-name. These were also mixed with a number of smaller septs, such as the Robsons, the Dicksons, the hurkle-backed Hendersons, and the rough-riding Riddels; and they were all headed by the doughty Sir Andrew Ker of Aultonburn. Next in order rode Old Willie Wiliecoat, named alsoWillie wi' the white doublet, the ancestor of the Earls of Home,—a brave and dauntless character, who for the space of forty yearshad been a sight of terror to the English, with his white jacket. With him rode the gentlemen of his own name, the hard-rackle Homes, the dorty Dunbars, the strait-laced Somervilles, and the Baillies. Then came the proud Pringles, a powerful sept, mixed with a countless number of dependent families, headed by Pringle of Galashiels; and after them the Gordons, led by Sir John of that ilk.
All these held lands of the Douglas, on conditions of certain services; they were nevertheless all independent chiefs, these services performed; but at this time they attended personally, with their kinsmen, to pay their dutiful respects to their Sovereign. Last of all came the Douglasses, in five separate bodies, every one headed by a lord or knight of the name; and these made up one-third of the whole cavalcade, the Earl himself being with the last party of all, and most gallantly attended.
The two parties met at Earlston, but the royal party was nothing in point of bearing and splendour to that of the Douglasses. The King and Queen travelled eachin a litter borne by two gallant steeds. These carriages were very splendid in their decorations, and constructed in the same way as a sedan chair, and it was truly wonderful with what velocity they were borne along. They were contrived for the King's use, who had a halt, and could not travel on horseback; and they suited the state of the roads in Scotland at that period exceedingly. Two heralds rode before his Majesty, who introduced the various chiefs to him as he passed, and those others of whose names he enquired, among whom Sir Charles Scott was the first. The Queen and her Maries also saluted him along with the Warden. The whole procession then drew up in files until their Majesties passed, after which they fell all into their places, the order of precedency being then reversed, and the Douglasses next to the Sovereign. There was no time for delay, considering the season, the darkness of the night, and the shortness of the day; so they posted on with all manner of expedition, and yet it was dark before they reached the abbey of Kelso. But all the way,by the cloisters, the bridge, and up the High-street of the city of Roxburgh, there were tiers of torches raised above one another that made it lighter than the noon-day. Never was there such a scene of splendour witnessed in that ancient and noble city; to which the darkness of the canopy above, and the glare of torch-light below, added inconceivable grandeur. It seemed as if all the light and beauty of the universe had been confined within that narrow space, for without all was blackness impervious to the eye, but within there was nothing but brilliancy, activity, and joy. Seven score musical instruments, and as many trilling but discordant voices, yelled forth, from the one end of the street to the other, that old song beginning,
"The King came to our town;Ca' Cuddie, ca' Cuddie!The King came to our town,Low on the Border."
"The King came to our town;Ca' Cuddie, ca' Cuddie!The King came to our town,Low on the Border."
"The King came to our town;Ca' Cuddie, ca' Cuddie!The King came to our town,Low on the Border."
The trumpets sounded before, and the bugles behind; and the Border youths and maidens were filled with enthusiastic delight at the novelty of the spectacle.They followed with shouts to the castle gate, and then returned to talk of what they had seen, and what they should see on the morrow.
The royal party was conducted to the citadel, where every thing was in readiness for a grand entertainment; and there the Douglas delivered into the King's hands the keys of the castle of Roxburgh. His Majesty received them most graciously, and thanked him for all the cost, pains, and trouble that he had taken for the good of the realm; and added, that he came prepared in heart and mind to fulfil his engagements to him in return. There was now a manifest embarrassment on the part of the Douglas; his countenance changed, and he looked as he would have asked for the Princess, or, at least, as if some one were wanting that ought to have been there; but after an agitated pause, he could only stammer out, that "he was much beholden to his Majesty, who might at all times command his utmost services without bounty or reward."
"I trust that is not as much as to say that you now decline the stipulated reward for this high service," said the King.
"Sire, I see none either for your Majesty to give, or your servant to receive," said the Douglas; and at the same time he cast a hasty and perturbed glance at the courtiers and warriors ranged around the hall. The king nodded by way of assent to his hint; and at the same time said to him, aside, "I understand you, Lord Douglas. You will explain this gallantry of yours, in keeping your sovereign's daughter in concealment from her natural guardians, in private to-morrow. But, pray, can we not see our darling to-night?"
"Alas, my liege lord and sovereign," said Douglas, passionately, "sure you jest with your servant, thus to tax him with that of which he is innocent."
The King smiled, and waving his hand jocularly, by way of intimating that he thought his affected secrecy prudence at that time, left him, and forthwith went halting up among the Borderers, to converse with them about the affairs of theEnglish marches. The stately and commanding figure of Charlie Scott, who was like Saul among the people, again attracted the King's eyes, and he went familiarly up to him, and said at once, "Well, gallant knight, how have accounts balanced between you and your southern neighbours since last Lammas-tide?"
"Gude faith, my liege lord and king, I can hardly tell you," said Sir Charles, without hesitation: "There hae been some hard yerks gaun; but the last quarter stands rather aboon an average wi' us. It is a kittle bauk that hings o'er the Border, my liege; it is often nae sooner down to the yird than it is up to the starns again."
"Well said, knight! I like your fair wit and free humour," said the King. "So, upon the whole, you judge that the balance preponderates on our side just now?"
"I should think sae, Sire, when sic a clod as this castle of Roxburgh is thrown into the bucket. It is nae witherweight this for the end of a weigh-bauk. A' the kye o' the Seven Dales winna carry the swee to the south side again."
The Queen, hearing her lord conversing so freely and jocularly with this goodly personage, came also up with two of her ladies of honour, in order to put in a word; "for (says Isaac, with great simplicity) women always like to be striking kemps with a handsome and proper man; and the bigger of bone, and the stronger of muscle, the more is he the object of their admiration."
When Sir Charles had finished the last remark, therefore, the Queen smiled complacently in his face, and said, "You must certainly acknowledge, gallant knight, that you have been much indebted to heaven for your singular success in this instance?"
Sir Charles nodded his head. "Its a' that ye ken about it, my lady queen. But saft be the sough that says it. I trow we were mair indebted to some other place in the first instance."
The Queen held up her hands: "Uh! what does the knight mean? Say, my lord, What? What place?" Then turning to Sir Ringan, who was terribly in the fidgets about what had dropped from hiskinsman, she added, "I trust our right traist warden and loving cousin did not practise any of the diabolical arts, so prevalent of late, to accomplish his hard task?" And then, with a woman's natural volubility, when once her tongue is set a-going, she added, turning to Charlie, without waiting the Warden's reply, "What place does Sir Charles mean? I hope you would not insinuate that you had any dealings with the spirits of darkness?"
"Not with hell directly, madam," answered Charlie, (for Isaac can never help calling him occasionally by his old title,) "but I canna say that we didna get a strong hint frae ane or twa of its principal agents. No offence, my lady queen. I ken by report, that your Majesty takes supreme delight in religious devotions; and, to tell the truth, I have always had a strong hankering that gate mysel', and hope I will hae till the day of my death. But there is ae thing in the whilk I am greatly altered. Pray, may I take the liberty to ask what is your Majesty's opinion about the deil?"
"Uh! gracious St Mary be with us! What a question, knight! Why, what can I think but that he is the great enemy of God and man, and the author of universal evil?"
"There I think differently," said Charlie, bowing very low: "Always begging my lady queen's gracious pardon, that's the only tenet o' my belief that is altered;—at least an it be nae fairly altered, it is considerably jumbled, and nought like sae steadfast as it was. Always begging your pardon though, madam."
"I am quite confounded," said the Queen. "Pray, warrior, what do you mean?"
"Plainly this, my lady queen; that I think the old gentleman has been sair abused; and that there are some na meikle better than him wha have been a great deal better ca'd. It may sound a little odd in your ears, but I hae now seen him. I hae sat wi' him; I hae eaten, I hae drunken wi' him; and gin it hadna been for the interference of women, we wad hae partit civilly. But whenever they get a finger in a pye, there will be some ane burntin the opening o't. Always begging your Majesty's pardon, though."
"The Queen crossed herself, and counted her beads; but at the same time bestowed a smile and look of admiration on this extraordinary hero who had accomplished such singular adventures. These encouraging Sir Charles to finish his sentence, he added: "They hae frightit me wi' him lang; and sair has my neb been hauden at the grindstane wi' the fear o' him. I durst hardly say or think that ane of a' the members of my body was my ain wi' perfect terror. But thae days are a' o'er. An' the bedesmen be gaun to fright me ony langer wi' a deil, they maun get a new ane; for the auld ane winna stand his ground to any extent wi' me on that score. He has doubtless some bad qualities; some wicked vagaries about him; but, upon the whole, I have met wi' waur fellows."
This introduction, in spite of Sir Ringan's endeavours to waive the subject, led to the whole narrative of the transactions at Aikwood, of which the Queen and hermaidens of honour were never wearied, although at the same time many an Ave Maria and Paternoster the subject cost them. When obliged, from the lateness of the hour, to desist listening to the agitating theme, the Queen was never at rest until it was renewed next day; nor even then till she had gone and visited the great hill of Eildon thus miraculously cleft asunder and divided into three; and even after quaking at the scene, she grew still more importunate in her inquiries, so that there was no satisfying her curiosity on the subject of the enchantments of Master Michael Scott all the time she remained in Roxburgh.
When she retired to her chamber that first night she inquired for a confessor, and the knight in waiting introduced the monk Benjamin; intimating, that since the capture of the castle he had been confessor-general to all within its walls. The Queen's devotions that night were prolonged until an early hour next morning; nevertheless she arose from her sleep greatly refreshed, and in high spirits, and at the breakfast-table was more than usually gay. Not so with Douglas, over whose countenance, in spite of all exertions to the contrary, hung a heavy gloom, as well as a manifest abstraction of thought. The King, who was a person of strong discernment, observed this, and, from some indefinite dread of the cause, involuntarily partook of the sensation.
I want none of your gold, Douglas,I want none of your fee,But swear by the faith of thy right handThat you'll love only me:And I'll leave my country and my kinAnd wend along with thee.May Marley.
I want none of your gold, Douglas,I want none of your fee,But swear by the faith of thy right handThat you'll love only me:And I'll leave my country and my kinAnd wend along with thee.May Marley.
I want none of your gold, Douglas,I want none of your fee,But swear by the faith of thy right handThat you'll love only me:And I'll leave my country and my kinAnd wend along with thee.
When the mass, and a plentiful morning meal, were over next day, every one began to prepare for such exercises as the season admitted. All lingered about for some time, but seeing that no orders were likely to be given out for any procession or general rendezvous during the day, which every one had expected, some betook them to the chace, others to equestrian exercises with sword and spear, while the Homes and the Gordons joined in an excursion into English ground, keeping along the southern bank of the Tweed. The King observing them all about to disperse, reminded the Douglas that it wasa high festal day; on which the latter made a low obeisance, and remarked, that he was only now a guest in the castle of Roxburgh, and that his honoured liege sovereign was host; that his foresters and sumptuary officers had got timeous notice, and nothing would be lacking that his Majesty could desire for the entertainment of his nobles and friends. The King then caused it to be intimated, that he would be happy to meet all his lords and nobles in the banquet-hall at even-tide, where every knight, gentleman, and yeoman, were expected to attend in their several places, and all should be heartily welcome. "And now, Lord Douglas," said he, leading the way into an anti-chamber, "let us two retire by ourselves, and consult what is to be done next."
Lord Douglas followed, but ill prepared to answer the inquiries about to be put to him. He had received injunctions of secrecy from one who had in no instance misled him, and to whom he had been of late indebted for the preservation of his life. But how was he now to conduct himself, or how answer his sovereign in any other way than according to the truth as it had been stated unto him? His predicament was a hard one; for he was, in the first place, ashamed of the part he had acted, of never having discovered his royal mistress while attached to his side, notwithstanding of all the evidences in confirmation of the fact, which he had never once seen till too late. And then to have suffered even his mistress' page to fall a victim to such a shameful death, without either making an effort to save him, or so much as missing him from his hand, or mentioning his loss,—were circumstances not quite consistent with the high spirit of gallantry, as well as chivalry, he had displayed at first by the perilous undertaking. Gladly would he have kept his knowledge of the transaction a secret; but then there was the monk Benjamin, who, by some supernatural agency, had been given to understand the whole scope and tenor of it; and there was dame Mary Kirkmichael knew the whole, except the degrading catastrophe, and had unfolded it all tohim when it was too late. He run over all these things in his mind, and was as little, as at any previous period, prepared what part to act, when the King turned round, and, in the most anxious and earnest manner, said, "Lord Douglas, where is our daughter?"
"My liege lord and sovereign, ought not I rather to have asked that question of you?" said the Douglas: "And I would have done it at our first meeting, only that I would not trifle with your feelings on such a serious matter, perceiving that you laboured under a grievous misconception regarding my conduct. You have not, it seems, brought the princess Margaret along with you, as was expected by all my friends and followers?"
"Not by yourself, I am certain. I say, Lord Douglas, where is my daughter? I demand a categorical answer."
"Sire, in what way am I accountable for your daughter?"
"Lord Douglas, I hate all evasion. I request an answer as express as my question. I know my darling child, inadmiration of your chivalrous enterprise, resolved, in the true spirit of this romantic age, to take some active part in the perils undertaken solely on her account: I know her ingenuity, which was always boundless, was instrumental in performing some signal services to you; and that finally she attached herself to your side in a disguise which she deemed would ensure her a kind and honourable protection. Thus far I know; and, though the whole was undertaken and transacted without my knowledge, when I was absent in the Highlands, I am certain as to the truth of every circumstance; and I am farther certified that you know all this."
"Hear me, my liege sovereign. Admitting that your daughter, or any other king's, lord's, or commoner's daughter, should put herself into a page's raiment, and"——
"Silence, lord!" cried the King, furiously, interrupting him: "Am I to be mocked thus, and answered only with circumlocution, notwithstanding my express command to the contrary? Answer me in oneword. My Lord of Douglas, where is my daughter?"
"Where God will, sire," was the short and emphatic reply. The king eyed Douglas with a keen and stern regard, and the eagle eye of the latter met that of his sovereign without any abashment. But yet this look of the Douglas, unyielding as it was, manifested no daring or offensive pride; it was one rather of stern sorrow and regret; nevertheless he would not withdraw it, but, standing erect, he looked King Robert in the face, until the eyes of the latter were gradually raised from his toward heaven. "Almighty Father!" cried he, clasping his hands together,—"Where, then, is it thy will that my beloved child should be? O Douglas! Douglas! In the impatience and warmth of temper peculiar to my race, I was offended at your pertinacity; but I dread it was out of respect to a father's feelings. I forgive it, now that I see you are affected, only, in pity to this yearning bosom, relate to me all that you know. Douglas!can you not inform me what has befallen to my daughter?"
"No, my liege, I cannot. I know nothing, or at least little save from report; but the little that I have heard, and the little that I have seen, shall never be reported by my tongue."
"Then hope is extinct!" cried the King. "The scene that can draw tears from the stern eye of the Douglas, even by an after reflection, is one unmeet for a parent's ear. The will of the Almighty be done! He hath given and he hath taken away: blessed be his name! But why have the men of my household, and the friends in whom I trusted, combined against my peace?" The King said this in a querulous mood. "Why did you not tell me sooner?" cried he, turning to Douglas, his tone altering gradually from one of penitence and deep humiliation to one of high displeasure: "Why bring me on this fool's errand, when I ought to have been sitting in sack-cloth and ashes, and humbling myself for the sins of my house? These must have been grievous indeed, that have drawndown such punishments on me. But the indifference of those in whom we trusted is the worst of all! O, my child! My darling child, Margaret! Never was there a parent so blest in a daughter as I was in thee! The playfulness of the lamb or the kid,—the affection of the turtle-dove, were thine. Thy breast was all enthusiasm and benevolence, and every emotion of thy soul as pure as the ray of heaven. I loved thee with more than parental affection, and, if I am bereaved of thee, I will go mourning to my grave. Is there no one in this place that can inform me of my daughter's fate? Her lady confidant, I understand, is still lingering here. Send for her instantly. Send for her confessor also, that I may confront you altogether, and ascertain the hideous and unwelcome truth. If I cannot have it here, I shall have it elsewhere, or wo be to all that have either been instrumental in her fate or lax in warding it off! Do you think, Lord of Douglas, that I can be put off with a hum and a haw, and a shake of the head, and, 'it's 'God's will?' Do you think I should,when I am inquiring about my own daughter, whom I held dearest of all earthly beings? No, I'll scrutinize it to a pin's point. I'll wring every syllable of the truth out of the most secret heart and the most lying tongue. I'll move heaven and hell, but I'll know every circumstance that has befallen to my daughter. Send, I say, for her foster-sister and faithful attendant, dame Mary Kirkmichael. Send also for her confessor, and for all to whom she has but once spoken since she arrived here. Why are they not sent for before this time?"
"My liege lord, restrain your impatience. They are sent for; but they will tell you nothing that can mitigate your sorrow. If it be all true that has been told to me, and that you yourself have told to me, of the disguise the Princess assumed, then is it also true that you will never again see your daughter in this state of existence."
"Ah! is it even so! Then is the flower of the realm fallen! then is the solace of my old age departed! But she is happy inthe realms of blessedness. While love, joy, and truth are the delight of heaven, there will my Margaret find a place! O, that she had staid by her father's hand! Why was my jewel entrusted to the care and honour of those who care but for themselves, and who have suffered the loveliest flower of the world to be cropped in its early blossom? nay, left it to be sullied and trodden down in forgetfulness. Lord Douglas, did you see my daughter perish?"
"Now, my liege lord, can I act the man no longer. Forgive me; and may the holy Virgin, the mother of God, forgive me; for I indeed saw with these eyes that inestimable treasure cut off, without one effort on my part to save her, and without a tear wetting my cheeks."
"Then may all the powers of darkness blast thy soul, thou unfeeling traitor! Thus! thus will I avenge me on the culprit who could give up his sovereign's daughter, and his own betrothed bride, to a violent death, and that without a tear! O thou incarnate fiend! shalt thou not bewail this adown the longest times ofeternity? Darest thou not draw against an injured father and king?"
"Put up thy sword, sire. The Douglas draws not but on his equals, and thou art none of them. Thy person is sacred and thy frame debilitated. He holds thee inviolate; but he holds thee also as nothing!"
"Thou shall know, proud lord, that the King of Scotland fears no single arm, and that he can stand on one limb to avenge the blood of his royal house."
"My gracious lord, this is the mere raving of a wounded spirit, and I grieve that I should have for one moment regarded it otherwise than with veneration. I had deserved to die an hundred deaths, if I had known who the dear sufferer was; but, alas! I know not ought of the sex or rank of my page, who was taken prisoner in the great night engagement. But I can tell you no more, Sire; nor is it needful; you now know all. I am guiltless as the babe unborn of my royal mistress's blood; but I will never forgive myself for my negligence and want of perception; nor do I anticipate any more happiness in this world. I havebeen laid under some mysterious restraints, and have suffered deeply already. And now, my gracious lord, I submit myself to your awards."
"Alas, Lord Douglas, you are little aware of the treasure you have lost. Your loss is even greater than mine. It behoves us, therefore, to lament and bewail our misfortunes together, rather than indulge in bitter upbraidings."
Here they were interrupted by the entrance of the Queen, who brought with her the Lady Jane Howard, dressed in a style of eastern magnificence, to introduce her to the King. The King, amid all the grief that overwhelmed his spirit, was struck with her great beauty, and paid that respect and homage to her which high birth and misfortune always command from the truly great; and the Queen, with the newfangledness of her sex, appeared wholly attached to this captive stranger, and had brought her down at that time to intercede with the King and Lord Douglas for her liberty, loading her with commendations and kind attentions.To check the Queen's volatility of spirits, the King informed her shortly of the irreparable loss both of them had suffered, but the effect was manifestly not at all proportionate to the cause. She appeared indeed much moved, and had well nigh fallen into hysterics; but if her grief was not assumed, it bore strong symptoms of being so. She first railed at, and then tried to comfort the Douglas; but finally turned again to Lady Jane, (who wept bitterly, out of true sympathy, for the Princess's cruel and untimely fate,) and caressed her, trying to console her in the most extravagant terms. The King, on the other hand, sobbed from his inmost soul, and bewailed his loss in terms so pathetic and moving, that the firm soul of Douglas was overcome, and he entered into all his Sovereign's feelings with the keenest sensations. It was a scene of sorrow and despair, which was rather increased than mitigated by the arrival of two more who had lately been sent for. These were the monk Benjamin and the lady Mary Kirkmichael, whom the King began anew to examine, dwelling on everycircumstance that occurred during the course of his darling child's extravagant adventure with a painful anxiety. But every now and then he became heated with anger, blaming some one for the want of discernment or respect. When he came to examine the monk, who shewed great energy and acuteness of speech, he lost his temper altogether at some part of the colloquy; but the monk was not to be daunted; he repelled every invective with serenity of voice and manner, and at sundry times rather put the monarch to shame.
"Hadst thou ever an opportunity of confessing and shriving my child, previous to the time she fell into the hands of her enemies, reverend brother."
"No Sire, she never made confession to me, nor asked absolution at my hand."
"And wherefore didst thou not proffer it, thou shriveled starveling? Were there no grants to bestow? no rich benefices to confer for the well-being of a royal virgin's soul, that caused thee to withold these poor alms of grace? Who was it that bestowed on thy unconscionable order all that theypossess in this realm? And yet thou wilt suffer one of their posterity to come into thy cell, to ask thy assistance, without bestowing a mass or benediction for the sake of heaven."
"Sire, it is only to the ignorant and the simple that we proffer our ghostly rites. Those who are enlightened in the truths and mysteries of religion it behoves to judge for themselves, and to themselves we leave the state of their consciences, in all ordinary cases." The monk was robed in a very wide flowing grey frock, and cowled over the eyes, while his thin and effeminate-looking beard trembled adown his breast with the fervency of his address. As he said these last words, he stretched his right hand forth toward the King, and raising the left up behind him, his robe was by that means extended and spread forth in a manner that increased the tiny monk to triple the size he was before. "And for you, King of Scotland," added he, raising his keen voice that quavered with energy, "I say such a demeanour is unseemly. Is it becoming the head and guardian of theChristian church in this realm,—him that should be a pattern to all in the lower walks of life,—thus to threat and fume beneath the chastening of his Maker? You ask me who bestowed these ample bounds on my order? I ask you in return who it was that bestowed them on thy progenitors and thee, and for what purpose? Who gave thee a kingdom, a people, and a family of thy own? Was it not he before whose altar thou hast this day kneeled, and vowed to be for him and not for another? And what he has bestowed has he not a right to require of thee again, in his own time, and in his own way?" The King bowed with submission to the truth of this bold expostulation, and the impetuous and undaunted monk went on: "It is rather thy duty, most revered monarch, to bow with deep humiliation to the righteous awards of the Almighty, for just and righteous they are, however unequal they may appear to the purblind eyes of mortal men. If he has taken a beloved child from thee, rest assured that he has only snatched her from evil to come, and translated herto a better and a happier home. Why then wilt thou not acknowledge the justice of this dispensation, and rather speak comfort to the weaker vessels than give way to ill-timed and unkingly wrath.
"As for thee, noble lord, to the eyes of men thine may appear a hard lot indeed. For the love of one thou adventuredst thy life and the very existence of thy house and name. The stake was prodigious, and when thou hadst won it with great labour and perseverance, the prize was snatched from thy grasp. Thy case will to all ages appear a peculiarly hard one; still there is this consolation in it—"
"There is no grain of consolation in it," said Douglas interrupting him: "There can be none! The blow on my head, and my hopes of happiness, is irretrievable."
"Yes lord, there is," said the monk; "for has it not been decreed in heaven above, that this union was never to be consummated? Man may propose and scheme and lay out plans for futurity, but it is good for him that the fulfilment is vested in other hands than his. This then is consolation, to know that it was predestinated in the counsels of one who cannot err, that that royal maid never was to be thine; and therefore all manner of repining is not only unmanly and unmeet, but sinful. It behoves now thy sovereign, in reward of thy faithful services, to bestow on thee another spouse with the same dowry he meant to bestow on his daughter. And it behoves you to accept of this as the gift of heaven, proffered to thee in place of the one it snatched from thy grasp. As its agent, therefore, and the promoter of peace, love, and happiness among men, I propose that King Robert bestow upon thee this noble and high born dame for thy consort. Both of you have been bereaved of those to whom you were betrothed, and it cannot fail to strike every one that this seems a fortune appointed for you two by Providence; nor can I form in my mind the slightest objection that can be urged to it on either side. It is desirable on every account, and may be the means of promoting peace between the two sister kingdoms, wasted by warfare and blood, which everytrue Christian must deplore. I propose it as a natural consequence, and a thing apparently foreordained by my master; and give my voice for it. King and Queen of Scotland what say you?"
"I hold the matter that this holy and enlightened brother has uttered to be consistent with truth, reason, and religion," said the King,—"and the union has my hearty and free approval. I farther promise to behave to this lady as a father to a daughter, and to bestow upon our trusty and leal cousin, the Lord Douglas, such honours, power, and distinction as are most due for the great services rendered to this realm. The match has my hearty concurrence."
"And mine," said the Queen: "I not only acquiesce in the reverend brother's proposal, but I lay my commands on my noble kinsman the Lord Douglas to accept of this high boon of heaven."
"Pause my sovereign lady," said the Douglas, "before you proceed too far. In pity to the feelings that rend this bosom, let me hear no more of the subject at present. In pity to that lovely and angelic lady's feelings, that must be acute as my own, I implore that you will not insist farther in this proposal. Do not wound a delicate female breast, pressed down by misfortunes."
"This is something like affectation, Lord Douglas," rejoined the Queen: "If I answer for the lady Jane's consent, what have you then to say against this holy brother's proposal?"
"Ay, if your Queen stand security for the lady's consent, and ifI stand security for it likewise," said the monk—"what have you to say against the union then? Look at her again, lord. Is not shea lovelyandangelicbeing? Confess the truth now. For I know it to be the truth, that never since you could distinguish beauty from deformity, have your eyes beheldso lovelyandso angelica lady? Pressed down by misfortunes, too! Does that not add a triple charm to all her excellencies? You know what has been done for her? what has been suffered for her? what a noble and gallant life was laid down for her?Was such a sacrifice ever made for a lady or princess of your own country? No, never, heroic lord! Therefore bless your stars that have paved out a way for your union with such alovely,angelic, andmatchless lady; and take her! take her to your longing and aching bosom."
"Moderate your fervour, holy brother," said the Douglas, "which appears to me rather to be running to unwarrantable extremes. Granting that the lady Jane Howard is perhaps unequalled in beauty and elegant accomplishments——"
"Is she not so? Is she not so?" cried the monk with a fervour that raised his voice to a scream of passion: "Did I not say that she was? And now am I not warranted by your own sentiments,freely expressedenough. Sure, lord, you cannot deny that I said, that I told you, the lady waspeerless in beauty and accomplishments? I knew it, and told you before that she was thequeen of beauty. Why then do you hesitate, and make all this foolish opposition to an union which we all know you are eager to consummate?Yes; you are: And we all know it. You are!"
"Holy brother, what unaccountable phrenzy has seized upon you," said the Douglas; "and why all this extravagant waste of declamation? Let me not hear another sentence, nor another word on the subject: only suffer me to finish what I had begun. I say then, granting that the lady Jane were peerless in beauty and accomplishments, still there is an impression engraven on my heart that can never be removed, or give place to another; and there will I cherish it as sacred, till the day of my death. And, that no reckless importunity may ever be wasted on me again, here I kneel before the holy rood, which I kiss, and swear before God and his holy angels, that since I have been bereaved of the sovereign mistress of my heart and all my affections,—of her in whom all my hopes of happiness in this world were placed, and who to me was all in all of womankind—that never shall another of the sex be folded in the arms of Douglas, or call him husband! So help methou Blessed One, and all thy holy saints and martyrs, in the performance of this vow!"
During the time of this last speech and solemn oath, the sobs of the monk Benjamin became so audible that all eyes were turned to him, for they thought that his delicate frame would burst with its emotions. And, besides, he was all the while fumbling about his throat, so that they dreaded he had purposed some mortal injury to himself. But in place of that, he had been unloosing some clasps or knots about his tunick; for with a motion quicker than thought, he flung at once his cowl, frock, and beard away,—and there stood arrayed as a royal bride the Princess Margaret of Scotland! "Journeyer of earth, where art thou now?"
Yes; there stood, in one moment, disclosed to the eyes of all present,the princess Margaret Stuart herself, embellished in all the ornaments of virgin royalty, and blooming in a glow of new born beauties."
"Thank heaven I have been deceived!" cried she, with great emphasis; and whenshe had said this, she stood up motionless by the side of lady Jane Howard, and cast her eyes on the ground. No pen can do justice to the scene. It must be left wholly to conception, after the fact is told that no one present had the slightest conception of the disguise save the Queen, who had been initiated into the princess's project of trying the real state of the Douglas's affections on the preceding night. It was like a scene of enchantment, such as might have been produced at the castle of Aikwood. But a moment ago all was sorrow and despair; now all was one burst of joyful surprise. And, to make it still more interesting, there stood the two rival beauties of Scotland and England, side by side, as if each were vying with the other for the palm to be bestowed on her native country. But to this day the connoisseurs in female beauty have never decided whether the dark falcon eyes and lofty forehead of the one, or the soft blushing roses and blue liquid eyes of the other, were the most irresistible.
The King was the first to burst from thesilence of surprise. He flew to his daughter's arms with more vigour than a cripple could well be supposed to exert, kissed and embraced her, took her on his knee and wept on her neck; then, striking his crutch on the floor, he scolded her most heartily for the poignant and unnecessary pain she had occasioned to him. "And the worst of it is," added he, "that you have caused me show too much interest in an imp that has been the constant plague of my life with her whims and vagaries; an interest, and an intensity of feeling, that I shall be ashamed of the longest day I have to live."
"Indeed but you shall not, my dear lord and father, for I will now teaze another than you, and teaze him only to deeds of valour and renown; to lead your troops to certain conquest, till you are fully avenged of the oppressors of your people."
Mary Kirkmichael hung by her seymar and wept. The Douglas kneeled at her feet, and in an ecstacy took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I do not know whether or not I shall have reason to blessheaven all my life for this singular restoration," said he; "but for the present I do it with all my heart. Tell me, thou lovely cameleon, what am I to think of this? Wert thou indeed, as was related to me, the page Colin Roy Macalpin? He with the carroty locks and the flippant tongue?"
"You need not doubt it, lord Douglas. I was. And I think during our first intimacy that I teazed you sufficiently."
"Then that delicate neck of yours, for all its taper form and lily hue is a charmed one, and rope proof; for, sure as I look on you now, I saw you swing from a beam's end on the battlement of this same tower."
"Oh! no, no, my lord! It was not I. Never trust this head again if it should suffer its neck to be noosed.Yousuffered it though; that you must confess. And I dare say, though a little sorry, felt a dead weight removed from about your neck. You suffered me to be taken prisoner out of your tent, and mured up among rude and desperate men in a dungeon. It cost me all my wits then to obtain my release. But I effected it. Swung from a beam's end.quoth he! Och! what a vulgar idea! No my lord, the page whom you saw swung was atailor's apprentice, whom I hired to carry a packet up to your lordship, with my green suit of clothes, and a promise of a high place of preferment, and I kept my word to the brat! An intolerable ape it was. Many better lives have been lost in this contention; few of less value—I never deemed he was so soon to be strung, and my heart smote me for the part I had acted. But the scheme of turning monk and confessor suited me best of all: I then got my shacles of mystery riveted on you; and, heavens! what secrets I have found out."
At this part of the narrative, Isaac the curate bestows a whole chapter and a half on the description of the wedding, and all the processions, games, and feasting that ensued; but as none of these things bore the slightest resemblance to ought that has ever been witnessed in the present age, like a judicious editor I have passed them over. Suffice it that the Border never witnessed such splendor of array, such tournaments,such feasting, and such high wassail. For why? because it never witnessed the marriage of a king's daughter before. The streets of the city, and the square of the fortress, that had so lately been dyed with blood, now "ran red with Rhenish wine." And be it farther known, that Sir Charles Scott and his horse Corbie bore off every prize in the tilting matches, till at last no knight would enter the lists with him; but the fair dames were all in raptures with the gallantry of his bearing, and the suavity of his manners. As for the Queen, she became so much enamoured of the hero, that she was scarcely to be kept in due bounds, and if she had not been advanced in years he might have deemed she was in love with him. In the lists she drew up her snow-white palfrey by Corbie's side, and in the revel hall the royal dame herself was sure to be at the knight's side, except when at table, on pretence of hearing something more about his perils at Aikwood, and in particular about the scene with the beautiful and splendid witches; at which, as Sir Charles related it withabashed countenance, the Queen and her Maries laughed till the salt tears ran from their eyes. As for the description of their appearance the succeeding morning, and the feelings of the warrior, both then and afterward when transformed to a huge bull, these never failed to throw the gamesome group into convulsions of mirth. In short, the knight of Raeburn was of all the gallants quite the favourite at that splendid festival in the hall, as well as the hero in the lists, in which he six times received the prize of honour from the hands of the royal bride and those of lady Jane Howard, who, at the Queen's earnest request was made principal bride's-maid, and presiding lady at the sports.
But if Charles was the hero of those engaged in the games, his friend the gospel friar was as completely so among the gay onlookers, and created them more sport often than all in the lists. Ever since the various affrays in which his mule had been engaged, and come off with such decided success, the mongrel had learned to value himself solely as a beast of warfare, and noman who rode near him was sure of keeping his seat a minute, especially if he rode a high mettled and capricious charger. By the side of a horse of modesty that bore himself with candour and humility of countenance, the mule was a beast of sociality and decorum; but whenever he saw a steed begin to cut any unnecessary capers, he deemed himself insulted or put to the challenge, and on the instant began to lay back his long ears and switch with his tail, while his grey sunk eyes emitted a hellish gleam. It was no matter at what distance such a horse made his appearance, if the mule disliked his deportment, he would have flown across a whole field to attack and humble him. He had borne his master headlong into so many unpremeditated and unwarrantable scuffles since his return from Aikwood, that he had bestowed on him the name of Goliah of Gath; and besides giving him that veteran title, he often averred that he believed one of the necromancer's imps of darkness had taken possession of his beast.
The friar had, however, learned to distinguish all his motions, and knew from these the exact points and stages of his irritation; and when his offence began to reach its acme, he had no other resource than that of wheeling his head forcibly around, and turning his tail toward the object of his displeasure. Without this precaution, the friar would have been carried into the lists every day merely to gratify the spleen of Goliah, who could not endure the curvetting and jangling that was going on there. And even this inverse precaution did not at all times prove effectual, as in the following pleasant instance.
It chanced one day that the knight of Kraeland entered the lists alone, no opponent appearing against him, owing to some mistake made in the arrangement by the officers. He was a goodly youth, but uplifted above the earth with vanity, and of his vapouring and airs there were no end. Imagining that he attracted the eyes of all the beholders, and elated because no one had the courage to appear against him, for so he affected to regard the circumstance,he paraded the circle round and round, brandished his lance, and made his horse to curvette, rear, and wheel, accomplishing many grand evolutions. The lookers on were all beginning to get sick of him, and to view his vaporous manœuvres with disdain, but amongst them all there was none so much moved with spleen as Goliah of Gath. From the first moment that the knight entered the lists that uncircumcised Philistine began to manifest a mortal dislike towards him; the more so it was believed that he was mounted on a milk-white steed, a colour peculiarly disagreeable to the mule's optics. The judges of the games wist not what to do, and appealed to the King, who gave it as his opinion that this unchallenged appearance should be accounted as a victory, and that the knight should take his course in the next round; and the heralds got directions to make proclamation accordingly.
But long before this period the friar had been compelled to turn away the face of Goliah from this scene of vanity, and, as chance would have had it, he was in theinnermost circle, so that retreat outward through the innumerable files was utterly impracticable, and there sat the gruff uncourtly form of the gospel friar, with the tail of his beast where the head should have been, to the great amusement of the spectators. For all this the malevolent eye of Goliah, as well accustomed to look backward as forward, perceived all the outrageous rearings and snortings of that proud and gaudy animal, and became moved with so much indignation that he would no longer be restrained, either by bit or spur, soothing or threatening. Just as the herald had taken his place to make proclamation, the mule fell a running backward; and the more fiercely that the friar spurred, and the more bitterly he threatened, the beast of Belial retrogaded the faster, till at last, after two or three intemperate plunges, he got his head straight to the white charger, and then in one moment he was upon him, and had him by the brisket with his teeth. The horse reared furiously, but the mule pressed still closer to him, fixing his long teeth in the horse's shoulder, till on a sudden, in an attempt to clear both Goliah and his rider, or, at least, to leap over the mule's neck, the white steed was overturned, and thrown right on his back, above his overweening rider. All this was transacted in a space of time shorter than the time taken up in reading the relation; and the moment that Goliah of Gath had achieved this overthrow, he wheeled about with a mettledness and inveteracy beyond all description, and attacked the couple with his heels, prostrate as they were, yerk for yerk, indiscriminately. The friar sunk the rowels of his spurs to the head in his sides, and uttered some strong declamatory sentences against him in the style of the nations of the East; but Goliah plied his iron-heels still the faster, although he groaned, as he kicked, in the bitterness of his spirit. The scene was perfectly irresistible, grievous as the consequences threatened to be on the one side. The lists were all in convulsions of laughter, and involuntary shouts of applause shook the storeys of the firmament. The King laughed till he sunk down in hislitter, and his attendants had some fears that he would expire in a convulsive fit. The knight of Kraeland was carried out of the lists, maimed, and in a state of insensibility; and the friar, maugre all he could advance in opposition to the award, was proclaimed the victor in that course, and obliged to appear in the next encounter in opposition to the knight who had been the conqueror in the preceding combat.
Had Goliah of Gath restrained his wrath when this conquest was achieved, it would have been all very well, save for Kraeland and his white charger; but the mongrel's wrath once aroused was not easily abated. Therefore, when the friends of the fallen knight and his squire forced the Philistine to forego his attack and battery, his gleaming eyes glanced all around for another proper object whereon to wreak his horrid revenge. Now it so happened, that the Queen and her Maries were all mounted on white palfreys; and as these stood in the inner circles, arching their proud necks, and champing the bits, hewas moved with choler against them, and resolved within himself to give them a surprise, and shew them the prowess of a veteran warrior; for, over and above their saucy demeanor, the glaring whiteness of colour that pervaded them and their riders his heart could not endure: And, besides all these, the shouts and laughter of the multitude were thought to have added greatly to his ire. The friar, who knew him well, said so; "for" added he, "the shouts of joy and laughter are unto him as a portion of gall and of worm-wood." Certes, when he was driven from the prostrate champion, by dint of club and lance, he straightway laid back his long ears, and with a swiftness hardly imaginable, scoured the plain to the attack of the dames and their strutting genets. The friar soon perceived the dangerous dilemma into which he was about to be precipitated; and, all unable to restrain this champion of the Philistines, he cried out with a loud voice, "O wretched man that I am! lo, I shall work destruction among the daughters of women! Will no man come to the assistanceof those who have no strength of man at all? Wo is me! will the mighty men stand and look on till the daughters of their people are cut off from the face of the earth?"
Long ere this sentence had proceeded out of the friar's mouth, the work of deray and confusion was begun. The column of white palfreys were routed in one moment, and their gentle and affrighted riders kicked off in pairs, like so many diving swans. Never was there a warrior like Goliah of Gath! for he tore with his teeth, and struck with both hind feet and fore feet, all at the same instant. The Queen of Scotland would in all probability have been laid low with the rest, had it not been for the prowess of her favourite hero, who sprung from Corbie's back, and seized the audacious mule by the bridle. "Smite him, my son!" cried the friar, with a loud voice: "Draw thou forth thy sword, and smite him to the earth, for it is better for him to die than to live."
The mule thought to prove contumacious at the first; but feeling Charlie's powerful grasp, he calmed himself, turned theone ear back, the other forward, and switched his tail, listening with much gratification to the hysterical cries of the discomfited damsels. Not so his master, who was grieved in spirit, and very wroth with his old servant and companion; insomuch that when he alighted from his back, and seized his curb, he exclaimed, "O thou limb of the wicked one! Thou emblem of the evil principle working in the children of disobedience! What shall I do unto thee? Lo, now, if I had a sword in mine hand, would I not strike thy head from off thy body, and cause thee to be buried with the burial of an ass?" The mule let his ears fall down very wide asunder, like the horns of a Lancashire ox, putting on a face of great humility, as he looked out from beneath his heavy eyebrows, with many a sly demure glance at the friar's face. The good man led him around the lists in search of an opening to get out, for he durst not again mount him for fear of being instrumental in some farther outrage among the ranks of the great and the noble. As he passed by the King, his Majesty caused him to be called up into his presence,and asked him what sum it would please him to ask as the price of his mule?
"Verily, my lord, O King," answered the friar, with great readiness, "that beast hath been unto thy servant as a friend and an inheritance. He hath borne me over the mountains of Palestine, and hath drunk from the fords of Jordan, as well as from Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus. Yea, bestriding that woful beast, hath thy servant fought the battles of the cross; and the hooves that have in thy sight been lifted up against the fair and the lovely, the meek and the innocent, have been dyed red in the blood of infidels. Money is of no avail to thy servant; and he cannot part with his old and trusty companion, even though the spirit of those that are cursed from the heavens be in him."
"Then wilt thou come thyself unto me at the Scottish court?" said the King to him, somewhat in his own style,—"and I will cherish both thee and thy doughty companion, and thou shalt minister unto me in holy things, and shalt be unto me as a father, and I and my children will be tothee as sons and as daughters; for my trusty and well tried friend, Sir Ringan of Mountcomyn, saith well of thee and of thy great wisdom, valour, and prudence."
"Verily, most noble King, I have yet many things to accomplish in other lands than this, which, by the strength of the Lord, must be fulfilled; when these are finished, then shall thy servant come unto thee, and visit thee for good."
"And thou shalt be a welcome guest," said the King: "Wear thou this ring for my sake, which I give thee as a pledge of friendship, and of protection through my kingdom. Remain in the lists, for thou hast yet battle to do against two knights of the lance and the sword."
"Lo, I will even strike with the sword and the spear, if my lord the King commandeth it. But I lack armour, and am not a man of war, save when the lives of the innocent or the cause of the cross is at stake. And, moreover, the beast that thou seest is as a beast of the bottomless pit; he hath antipathies and sympathies of his own; and instead of bearingme full force against my opponent, he may carry me to make war against women and children. Nevertheless, I will do all that it behooveth me to do. Who are my adversaries?"—He was told they were the knights of Gemelscleuch and Raeburn.—"Then God do so to me, and more also, if I lift up my hand against any of these my brethren, the men of my right hand, and the preservers of my life. Neither will one of them put his spear in rest against me; so that the battle would perish. Thy servant is not afraid to fight, but as a gladiator he is unwilling to exhibit; therefore my lord, O King, suffer him to depart in peace."
These reasons were cogent, so the King admitted them; and the worthy and heroic friar was suffered to lead off Goliah of Gath, amid thundering shouts of applause.
This general doctrine of the text explained, I proceed, in what remains of this discourse, to point out to you three important and material considerations concerning the nature and character of woman. These shall be,1stly, What she was;2dly, What she is; and,3dly, What she will be hereafter. And are not these, my brethren, matters of high importance?Dickson's Sermons.
This general doctrine of the text explained, I proceed, in what remains of this discourse, to point out to you three important and material considerations concerning the nature and character of woman. These shall be,1stly, What she was;2dly, What she is; and,3dly, What she will be hereafter. And are not these, my brethren, matters of high importance?
Dickson's Sermons.
All things of this world wear to an end, saith Isaac; so also did this high Christmas festival within the halls and towers of Roxburgh. The lady Jane had borne a principal share in all the sports, both in and out of doors. In the hall she was led up to every dance, and in the lists she presided as the queen of the games, distributing the prizes with her own fair hands to the Scottish heroes, and, of course, crowning her old friend Charlie with the bays at least once a day. Sir Charles was a most unassuming character, and seldom adventured on addressing his superiors first. But when once they addressed discourse tohim, he never failed answering them with perfect ease and unconcern; and often, as is well known ere this time, with more volubility than he himself approved of. Once, and only once during all these days of his triumph and high honours, did the lady Jane remember him of having brought her into captivity, and of the high bribe he had refused for her liberty. "An' if it be your will, honoured lady, I wish ye wadna say ony mair about that matter," said Sir Charles; "for mony queer fidgetty kind o' feelings I hae had about it sinsyne. And if I had kend then what I ken now,—if I had kend wha I had in my arms, and what I had in my arms, I had nae borne the honours that I wear the day. My heart had some sair misgiving aince about you, when there were hard news gaun of your great jeopardy; but now that you are in sic high favour, I am e'en glad that I brought you, for troth ye hae a face and a form that does ane good to look at."
The lady Jane only sighed at this address, and looked down, thinking, without doubt, of the long and dismalwidowhoodwhich it would behoove her to keep for the dismal end of her betrothed knight, and then a virgin widowhood too, which was the worst of all. There was an obscure glimpse of the same sort of ideas glanced on Charlie's mind as he viewed her downcast blushing countenance; and afraid of giving birth to any painful sensations in such a lovely lady's mind, he desisted from further conversation.
The Queen was still so much interested in that lady as to endeavour by all means to procure her liberty without any ransom, somewhat contrary to her son-in-law's opinion. The Queen reasoned, that she was not a lawful prisoner of war; the Douglas that she was, there being no bond of peace subsisting between the nations, and she entering Scotland with forged credentials, at least signed and sealed in favour of another and non-existing person. She applied to the King, who gave his consent, but, at the same time, professed having nothing to do in the matter. At length she teazed Lord Douglas so much that he resolved to indulge her Majestybefore the court took leave of him, but to leave it until the very last day. He, however, reckoned before his host; for now that the abbot of Melrose had conjoined him with royalty, he found that he had at the very least two to please instead of one.
Here, we must, with that regard to veracity which so well becomes every narrator of a true tale, divulge a disagreeable secret; that is, we must delineate truly a trait in the character of our heroine, the lady Douglas, (lately the princess Margaret of Scotland,) which we would rather have concealed, had it been possible to have done so. But she could not conceal it any longer herself,—and why should Isaac and I vex ourselves about it; for one day when Mary Kirkmichael waited on her in her chamber, she found her drowned in tears, and with great perplexity, and no less curiosity, set herself to discover the cause.
"What? My dearest and most noble lady in tears?" exclaimed she. "Now, a plague on these teazing, battling, boisterous, deluding creatures called men, that will not let poor innocent maids alone to liveat heart's ease, but hold them thus in constant ferment, married or unmarried! Well did I ween from experience, that the maiden's troubles were the most insufferable to be borne! The neglects—the disappointed hopes—the fears—and, above all, the jealousies! Oh these jealousies! What infernal tormentors they are! But now little wot I what to say, or what to think; for beshrew me if I remember the time when I saw my royal mistress in tears before. Let me recollect. No, not since dame Mary Malcolm's palfrey leaped the ravine before the lords of Huntly and Athol, and yours refused. Then, indeed, you wept; and when I laughed you struck me. Yes, you know you struck me, and that had nearly made matters worse."
"Pray, madam," said lady Douglas, "could you conveniently command yourself so far as to bring a surgeon here on the instant?"
"A surgeon! Sanct Marie's grace! what is your ailment, my dearest lady?"
"It is not for myself, it is for you I want him. You are very ill of a quinsey,dame, and bleeding below the tongue is necessary. Go bring my father's leech to me, without delay, and come with him."
"You have not forgot your sweet maiden frolics for all that is come and all that is done. Well, I am glad you are still in that whimsical humour. I was afraid you were grievously vexed or disappointed at something in your new state."
"Step forth, I say, and bring me in a surgeon, for I insist on having you bleeded under the tongue. You are very ill indeed, and the disease is infectious."
"By my maidhood, and by your own, sweet lady, (the Douglas's I mean,) there shall no leech that ever drew lancet open a vein in my blessed and valuable member. No, not were it to humour a queen, or alady Jane Howard."
"Now, may all the plagues that prey on the heart of woman seize and torment thee if thou hast not guessed the cause of my uneasiness. There's a latent devil within thee that whispers to thy imagination the thoughts that are passing in my heart. O Kirkmichael, I am ill! I havesuffered many distresses in my time! many, many distresses!"
"Yes, indeed you have, my royal mistress! many, many distresses!"
"Bring the surgeon, I say. Cannot you, for the life of you, compose yourself for a little space, when you see me in such distress? Your royal mistress, Mary? I am no royal mistress now! No, I a'nt! Nothing but a plain jog-trot wife of a lord, or earl, or how do you call that beautiful title? While the lady Jane Howard!—Oh Kirkmichael, I cannot tell you the half of what I feel!"
"I know it all. Jealousy! my dear lady, jealousy! Think you I know not what it is to suffer that? Do you remember young Spinola, that came to our court from the places abroad? He loved me the best after all; I had certain demonstrative proofs of it. But do you know what I suffered? Racks, tortures, strangulations! Fiends tearing out my eyes, pouring hellebore into my ears, and boring through my heart with red hot irons! Not know what jealousy is? Wasnot I telling your royal self the last minute"—
"Mary! stop, and be advised. You are very ill."
"I humbly ask forgiveness. I was coming to it. Dear lady, I have noted your trouble these nine days past, and that it was still gaining ground. But I can partly account for it, so that, with a little prudence and patience, it may be removed. Ever since the day on which you was a bride, or the one following perhaps, there has been more court and more flattery paid to the southern beauty than to the northern one. It is the course of nature, madam; you are now a married wife, and your charms must be admired at a distance with respect and awe. The maid must still be courted and flattered. Quite natural, madam, I assure you. Think you any knight durst caper and bow, and prate to the lady Douglas, as they do tothe English puppet?"
"Mary, I will give you all my wedding apparel for these two last words. Is not she a mere puppet, without soul or magnanimity? But—Mary!—How gladly would I change places with her, Mary! She has conquered after all. Yes: She has conquered Margaret Stuart, there is no denying of it to one's own heart."
"Gramercy, dearest lady, are you not raving? Has not the noble lord of your adoption proved victorious, and gained you with all honour and approbation?"
"But then the lord ofheradoptiondiedfor her, Mary. Think of that. The gallant, faithful, and magnanimous Musgravediedfor the mistress of his affections. But who died for the poor degraded lady Margaret of Scotland? I am conquered with my own weapons. There is no denying of it! I would rather that one lover had laid down his life for me than have had fifty husbands."
"Palpably wrong! I'll prove it. Fifty husbands! How delightful—Beg pardon, madam."
"I tried the Douglas hardly for it. But he was too selfish, and would not die for me. Base, cruel knight! No, hewould notdie for me; even though I got him to believe that I was put to death, and my ghost haunting him, yet hewould notkill himself. What a value those monstrous men set upon their lives! Musgrave died. Lady Jane has conquered, and I ammarried! I wish I were dead, Kirkmichael!"
"'Tis a pity but that you were, madam! If ladies are to live on these terms with the world, they had better be out of it. For you know if the man that one loves best will not condescend always to die when the gratification of his mistress' vanity requires it, why there is an end of all endurance. I managed otherwise with young Spinola."
"Mention the name of your Spinola again to me for the head that stands on your body, since you deprecate the more gentle prescription of bleeding below the tongue; and now find me some anodyne without delay for the distemper that is preying on my vitals. None of your jeers and your jibes, Kirkmichael, for I am not in humour to bear them. The worst thing of all is yet to come. This puppet,—this painted doll,—this thing of wax! after triumphing over me in my own country and amongmy own people,—after being died for, while I was only lived for,—after being courted, and flattered, and smiled on, while I was only bowed to and gazed on,—after being carressed by my father, and bedaubed with praises by my newfangled and volatile mother,—after all this, I say, there is she going to be set at liberty, and without all question wedded to one of the royal dukes, one of the princes of the blood! How shall the blood of the Bruce and the spirit of the Stuart brook this? Before I heard of that lady's name, I knew not what jealousy was. Ever since that time has she held me in misery. I thought I had once achieved the greatest conquest that ever was accomplished by heroine. And Ididseize a noble prize! How has it turned out?—in every instance to her honour, and my disparagement. And there, through the unnatural fondness of my doating mother, will she return home, and be courted for her princely fortune, not for her beauty I am sure! But then, they will hear that the bravest and most chivalrous knight in Englanddied for her;and as certainly as I speak to you, will she achieve a higher marriage than Margaret, and how shall she ever show her face again?"
"A higher marriage than you, dearest lady? Then must she be married to some of the kings on the continent, for in all the dominion of England there is not a subject of such power as your lord, the Earl of Douglas and Mar, nor one whose military honours flourish so proudly."
"My lord and husband is all that I could wish in man, only——"
"Only that he isnot dead. That's all."
"You had better!OnlyI say that he is nota prince of the blood royal, Mary. Think of that. There are many such in England. And there to a certainty will my great and only rival be wedded to one of these. The Duke of York or Glocester, mayhap; or to Prince Henry, the heir of the house of Mortimer, and then she'll bea queen! Yes, Kirkmichael! then she will bequeen of England!—And I—what will I be? No more than plainLady Douglas! The wife of theBlack Douglas!—Och! what shall I do, Mary? I'll go and wipe myshoes on her as long as I have it in my power."
"Tarry for a small space; there is time enough for that afterward, my dearest lady. Be staid for a little while, till I tell you a secret. A very important and profound one it is, and it behoves you to know it. There is a certain distemper that young newly married ladies are subjected to, which, is entitledPHRENZY, or some such delightful name. Some call itderangement of intellect, but that is too long a name, I hate long names, or very long things of any sort. So you must know, madam, that this delightful trouble, for it is delightful in its way, produces a great deal of animation. It is quite proper you should know this grand matrimonial secret, madam. This delicious, spirit-stirring trouble then soon goes off, and when it goes all the giddy vapours of youth fly with it. The mirror of the eye is changed, its convex being thence turned inward, reflecting all nature on the soul in a different light from that in which it had ever appeared before; and, at the same time the whole structure andframe of the character is metamorphosed, and the being that is thus transmuted becomes a more rational and respectable creature than it was previously, and at the same time a more happy one, although it must be acknowledged its happiness is framed on a different model. This is my secret, and it is quite proper that everyyounglady who is married should be initiated into it. As for the old ones, they are too wise to be initiated into any thing; or for any thing to be initiated into them."