The Monastery. Вальтер Скотт

by me neither,” said Edward, emulously.

      “Mistress Mary,” said Elspeth, “you never told us anything before that was not true; tell us if this was a Hallowe’en cantrip, and make an end of it.” The Lady of Avenel looked as if she would have interfered, but knew not how; and Elspeth, who was too eagerly curious to regard any distant hint, persevered in her inquiries. “Was it Christie of the Clint-hill? – I would not for a mark that he were about the house, and a body no ken whare.”

      “It was not Christie,” said Mary; “it was – it was a gentleman – a gentleman with a bright breastplate, like what I hae seen langsyne, when we dwelt at Avenel – ”

      “What like was he?” continued Tibb, who now took share in the investigation.

      “Black-haired, black-eyed, with a peaked black beard,” said the child; “and many a fold of pearling round his neck, and hanging down his breast ower his breastplate; and he had a beautiful hawk, with silver bells, standing on his left hand, with a crimson silk hood upon its head – ”

      “Ask her no more questions, for the love of God,” said the anxious menial to Elspeth, “but look to my leddy!” But the Lady of Avenel, taking Mary in her hand, turned hastily away, and, walking into the hall, gave them no opportunity of remarking in what manner she received the child’s communication, which she thus cut short. What Tibb thought of it appeared from her crossing herself repeatedly, and whispering into Elspeth’s ear, “Saint Mary preserve us! – the lassie has seen her father!”

      When they reached the hall, they found the lady holding her daughter on her knee, and kissing her repeatedly. When they entered, she again arose, as if to shun observation, and retired to the little apartment where her child and she occupied the same bed.

      The boys were also sent to their cabin, and no one remained by the hall fire save the faithful Tibb and dame Elspeth, excellent persons both, and as thorough gossips as ever wagged a tongue.

      It was but natural that they should instantly resume the subject of the supernatural appearance, for such they deemed it, which had this night alarmed the family.

      “I could hae wished it had been the deil himself – be good to and preserve us! – rather than Christie o’ the Clint-hill,” said the matron of the mansion, “for the word runs rife in the country, that he is ane of the maist masterfu’ thieves ever lap on horse.”

      “Hout-tout, Dame Elspeth,” said Tibb, “fear ye naething frae Christie; tods keep their ain holes clean. You kirk-folk make sic a fasherie about men shifting a wee bit for their living! Our Border-lairds would ride with few men at their back, if a’ the light-handed lads were out o’ gate.”

      “Better they rade wi’ nane than distress the country-side the gate they do,” said Dame Elspeth.

      “But wha is to haud back the Southron, then,” said Tibb, “if ye take away the lances and broadswords? I trow we auld wives couldna do that wi’ rock and wheel, and as little the monks wi’ bell and book.”

      “And sae weel as the lances and broadswords hae kept them back, I trow! – I was mair beholden to ae Southron, and that was Stawarth Bolton, than to a’ the border-riders ever wore Saint Andrew’s cross – I reckon their skelping back and forward, and lifting honest men’s gear, has been a main cause of a’ the breach between us and England, and I am sure that cost me a kind goodman. They spoke about the wedding of the Prince and our Queen, but it’s as like to be the driving of the Cumberland folk’s stocking that brought them down on us like dragons.” Tibb would not have failed in other circumstances to answer what she thought reflections disparaging to her country folk; but she recollected that Dame Elspeth was mistress of the family, curbed her own zealous patriotism, and hastened to change the subject.

      “And is it not strange,” she said, “that the heiress of Avenel should have seen her father this blessed night?”

      “And ye think it was her father, then?” said Elspeth Glendinning.

      “What else can I think?” said Tibb.

      “It may hae been something waur, in his likeness,” said Dame Glendinning.

      “I ken naething about that,” said Tibb, – “but his likeness it was, that I will be sworn to, just as he used to ride out a-hawking; for having enemies in the country, he seldom laid off the breast-plate; and for my part,” added Tibb, “I dinna think a man looks like a man unless he has steel on his breast, and by his side too.”

      “I have no skill of your harness on breast or side either,” said Dame Glendinning; “but I ken there is little luck in Hallowe’en sights, for I have had ane myself.”

      “Indeed, Dame Elspeth?” said old Tibb, edging her stool closer to the huge elbow-chair occupied by her friend, “I should like to hear about that.”

      “Ye maun ken, then, Tibb,” said Dame Glendinning, “that when I was a hempie of nineteen or twenty, it wasna my fault if I wasna at a’ the merry-makings time about.”

      “That was very natural,” said Tibb; “but ye hae sobered since that, or ye wadna haud our braw gallants sae lightly.”

      “I have had that wad sober me or ony ane,” said the matron, “Aweel, Tibb, a lass like me wasna to lack wooers, for I wasna sae ill-favoured that the tikes wad bark after me.”

      “How should that be,” said Tibb, “and you sic a weel-favoured woman to this day?”

      “Fie, fie, cummer,” said the matron of Glendearg, hitching her seat of honour, in her turn, a little nearer to the cuttle-stool on which Tibb was seated; “weel-favoured is past my time of day; but I might pass then, for I wasna sae tocherless but what I had a bit land at my breast-lace. My father was portioner of Little-dearg.”

      “Ye hae tell’d me that before,” said Tibb; “but anent the Hallowe’en?”

      “Aweel, aweel, I had mair joes than ane, but I favoured nane o’ them; and sae, at Hallowe’en, Father Nicolas the cellarer – he was cellarer before this father, Father Clement, that now is – was cracking his nuts and drinking his brown beer with us, and as blithe as might be, and they would have me try a cantrip to ken wha suld wed me: and the monk said there was nae ill in it, and if there was, he would assoil me for it. And wha but I into the barn to winnow my three weights o’ naething – sair, sair my mind misgave me for fear of wrang-doing and wrang-suffering baith; but I had aye a bauld spirit. I had not winnowed the last weight clean out, and the moon was shining bright upon the floor, when in stalked the presence of my dear Simon Glendinning, that is now happy. I never saw him plainer in my life than I did that moment; he held up an arrow as he passed me, and I swarf’d awa wi’ fright. Muckle wark there was to bring me to mysell again, and sair they tried to make me believe it was a trick of Father Nicolas and Simon between them, and that the arrow was to signify Cupid’s shaft, as the Father called it; and mony a time Simon wad threep it to me after I was married – gude man, he liked not it should be said that he was seen out o’ the body! – But mark the end o’ it, Tibb; we were married, and the gray-goose wing was the death o’ him after a’!”

      “As it has been of ower mony brave men,” said Tibb; “I wish there wasna sic a bird as a goose in the wide warld, forby the clecking that we hae at the burn-side.”

      “But tell me, Tibb,” said Dame Glendinning, “what does your leddy aye do reading out o’ that thick black book wi’ the silver clasps? – there are ower mony gude words in it to come frae ony body but a priest – An it were about Robin Hood, or some o’ David Lindsay’s ballants, ane wad ken better what to say to it. I am no misdoubting your mistress nae way, but I wad like ill to hae a decent house haunted wi’ ghaists and gyrecarlines.”

      “Ye hae nae reason to doubt my leddy, or ony thing she says or does, Dame Glendinning,” said the faithful Tibb, something offended; “and touching the bairn, it’s weel kend she was born on Hallowe’en, was nine years gane, and they that are born on Hallowe’en whiles see mair than ither folk.”

      “And that wad be the cause, then, that the bairn didna