The Abbot. Вальтер СкоттЧитать онлайн книгу.
whatever to offer.
“What say you, Catherine,” he said, “if we two, thus strangely turned out of service at the same time, should give our two most venerable duennas the torch to hold, while we walk a merry measure with each other over the floor of this weary world?”
“A goodly proposal, truly,” said Catherine, “and worthy the mad-cap brain of a discarded page! – And what shifts does your worship propose we should live by? – by singing ballads, cutting purses, or swaggering on the highway? for there, I think, you would find your most productive exchequer.”
“Choose, you proud peat!” said the page, drawing off in huge disdain at the calm and unembarrassed ridicule with which his wild proposal was received. And as he spoke the words, the casement was again darkened by the forms of the matrons – it opened, and admitted Magdalen Graeme and the Mother Abbess, so we must now style her, into the apartment.
Chapter the Twelfth
Nay, hear me, brother – I am elder, wiser, And holier than thou – And age, and wisdom, And holiness, have peremptory claims, And will be listen’d to.
When the matrons re-entered, and put an end to the conversation – which we have detailed in the last chapter, Dame Magdalen Graeme thus addressed her grandson and his pretty companion: “Have you spoke together, my children? – Have you become known to each other as fellow-travellers on the same dark and dubious road, whom chance hath brought together, and who study to learn the tempers and dispositions of those by whom their perils are to be shared?”
It was seldom the light-hearted Catharine could suppress a jest, so that she often spoke when she would have acted more wisely in holding her peace.
“Your grandson admires the journey which you propose so very greatly, that he was even now preparing for setting out upon it instantly.”
“This is to be too forward, Roland,” said the dame, addressing him, “as yesterday you were over slack – the just mean lies in obedience, which both waits for the signal to start, and obeys it when given. – But once again, my children, have you so perused each other’s countenances, that when you meet, in whatever disguise the times may impose upon you, you may recognize each in the other the secret agent of the mighty work in which you are to be leagued? – Look at each other, know each line and lineament of each other’s countenance. Learn to distinguish by the step, by the sound of the voice, by the motion of the hand, by the glance of the eye, the partner whom Heaven hath sent to aid in working its will. – Wilt thou know that maiden, whensoever, or wheresoever you shall again meet her, my Roland Graeme?”
As readily as truly did Roland answer in the affirmative. “And thou, my daughter, wilt thou again remember the features of this youth?”
“Truly, mother,” replied Catherine Seyton, “I have not seen so many men of late, that I should immediately forget your grandson, though I mark not much about him that is deserving of especial remembrance.”
“Join hands, then, my children,” said Magdalen Graeme; but, in saying so, was interrupted by her companion, whose conventual prejudices had been gradually giving her more and more uneasiness, and who could remain acquiescent no longer.
“Nay, my good sister, you forget,” said she to Magdalen, “Catharine is the betrothed bride of Heaven – these intimacies cannot be.”
“It is in the cause of Heaven that I command them to embrace,” said Magdalen, with the full force of her powerful voice; “the end, sister, sanctifies the means we must use.”
“They call me Lady Abbess, or Mother at the least, who address me,” said Dame Bridget, drawing herself up, as if offended at her friend’s authoritative manner – “the Lady of Heathergill forgets that she speaks to the Abbess of Saint Catherine.”
“When I was what you call me,” said Magdalen, “you indeed were the Abbess of Saint Catherine, but both names are now gone, with all the rank that the world and that the church gave to them; and we are now, to the eye of human judgment, two poor, despised, oppressed women, dragging our dishonoured old age to a humble grave. But what are we in the eye of Heaven? – Ministers, sent forth to work his will, – in whose weakness the strength of the church shall be manifested-before whom shall be humbled the wisdom of Murray, and the dark strength of Morton, – And to such wouldst thou apply the narrow rules of thy cloistered seclusion? – or, hast thou forgotten the order which I showed thee from thy Superior, subjecting thee to me in these matters?”
“On thy head, then, be the scandal and the sin,” said the Abbess, sullenly.
“On mine be they both,” said Magdalen. “I say, embrace each other, my children.”
But Catherine, aware, perhaps, how the dispute was likely to terminate, had escaped from the apartment, and so disappointed the grandson, at least as much as the old matron.
“She is gone,” said the Abbess, “to provide some little refreshment. But it will have little savour to those who dwell in the world; for I, at least, cannot dispense with the rules to which I am vowed, because it is the will of wicked men to break down the sanctuary in which they wont to be observed.”
“It is well, my sister,” replied Magdalen, “to pay each even the smallest tithes of mint and cummin which the church demands, and I blame not thy scrupulous observance of the rules of thine order. But they were established by the church, and for the church’s benefit; and reason it is that they should give way when the salvation of the church herself is at stake.”
The Abbess made no reply.
One more acquainted with human nature than the inexperienced page, might have found amusement in comparing the different kinds of fanaticisms which these two females exhibited. The Abbess, timid, narrowminded, and discontented, clung to ancient usages and pretensions which were ended by the Reformation; and was in adversity, as she had been in prosperity, scrupulous, weak-spirited, and bigoted. While the fiery and more lofty spirit of her companion suggested a wider field of effort, and would not be limited by ordinary rules in the extraordinary schemes which were suggested by her bold and irregular imagination. But Roland Graeme, instead of tracing these peculiarities of character in the two old damps, only waited with great anxiety for the return of Catherine, expecting probably that the proposal of the fraternal embrace would be renewed, as his grandmother seemed disposed to carry matters with a high hand.
His expectations, or hopes, if we may call them so, were, however, disappointed; for, when Catherine re-entered on the summons of the Abbess, and placed on the table an earthen pitcher of water, and four wooden platters, with cups of the same materials, the Dame of Heathergill, satisfied with the arbitrary mode in which she had borne down the opposition of the Abbess, pursued her victory no farther – a moderation for which her grandson, in his heart, returned her but slender thanks.
In the meanwhile, Catherine continued to place upon the table the slender preparations for the meal of a recluse, which consisted almost entirely of colewort, boiled and served up in a wooden platter, having no better seasoning than a little salt, and no better accompaniment than some coarse barley-bread, in very moderate quantity. The water-pitcher, already mentioned, furnished the only beverage. After a Latin grace, delivered by the Abbess, the guests sat down to their spare entertainment. The simplicity of the fare appeared to produce no distaste in the females, who ate of it moderately, but with the usual appearance of appetite. But Roland Graeme had been used to better cheer. Sir Halbert Glendinning, who affected even an unusual degree of nobleness in his housekeeping, maintained it in a style of genial hospitality, which rivalled that of the Northern Barons of England. He might think, perhaps, that by doing so, he acted yet more completely the part for which he was born – that of a great Baron and a leader. Two bullocks, and six sheep, weekly, were the allowance when the Baron was at home, and the number was not greatly diminished during his absence. A boll of malt was weekly brewed into ale, which was used by the household at discretion. Bread was baked in proportion for the consumption of his domestics and retainers; and in this scene of