The Abbot

She left the apartment just as the latch of the outward door was raised from without. But the bolt which Roland had drawn on the inside, resisted the efforts of the person desirous to enter. 'Who is there?' said Graeme aloud.

'It is I,' replied the harsh and yet slow voice of the steward Dryfesdale.

'You cannot enter now,' returned the youth.

'And wherefore?' demanded Dryfesdale, 'seeing I come but to do my duty, and inquire what mean the shrieks from the apartment of the Moabitish woman. Wherefore, I say, since such is mine errand, can I not enter?'

'Simply,' replied the youth, 'because the bolt is drawn, and I have no fancy to undo it. I have the right side of the door to-day, as you had last night.'

'Thou art ill-advised, thou malapert boy,' replied the steward, 'to speak to me in such fashion; but I shall inform my Lady of thine insolence.'

'The insolence,' said the page, 'is meant for thee only, in fair guerdon of thy discourtesy to me. For thy Lady's information, I have answer more courteous?you may say that the Queen is ill at ease, and desires to be disturbed neither by visits nor messages.'

'I conjure you, in the name of God,' said the old man, with more solemnity in his tone than he had hitherto used, 'to let me know if her malady really gains power on her!'

'She will have no aid at your hand, or at your Lady's?wherefore, begone, and trouble us no more?we neither want, nor will accept of, aid at your hands.'

With this positive reply, the steward, grumbling and dissatisfied, returned down stairs.

Chapter the Thirty-Second.

It is the curse of kings to be attended
By slaves, who take their humours for a warrant
To break into the bloody house of life,
And on the winking of authority
To understand a law.

KING JOHN.

The Lady of Lochleven sat alone in her chamber, endeavouring with sincere but imperfect zeal, to fix her eyes and her attention on the black-lettered Bible which lay before her, bound in velvet and embroidery, and adorned with massive silver clasps and knosps. But she found her utmost efforts unable to withdraw her mind from the resentful recollection of what had last night passed betwixt her and the Queen, in which the latter had with such bitter taunt reminded her of her early and long-repented transgression.

'Why,' she said, 'should I resent so deeply that another reproaches me with that which I have never ceased to make matter of blushing to myself? and yet, why should this woman, who reaps?at least, has reaped?the fruits of my folly, and has jostled my son aside from the throne, why should she, in the face of all my domestics, and of her own, dare to upbraid me with my shame? Is she not in my power? Does she not fear me? Ha! wily tempter, I will wrestle with thee strongly, and with better suggestions than my own evil heart can supply!'

She again took up the sacred volume, and was endeavouring to fix her attention on its contents, when she was disturbed by a tap at the door of the room. It opened at her command, and the steward Dryfesdale entered, and stood before her with a gloomy and perturbed expression on his brow.

'What has chanced, Dryfesdale, that thou lookest thus?' said his mistress?'Have there been evil tidings of my son, or of my grandchildren?'

'No, Lady,' replied Dryfesdale, 'but you were deeply insulted last night, and I fear me thou art as deeply avenged this morning?Where is the chaplain?'

'What mean you by hints so dark, and a question so sudden? The chaplain, as you well know, is absent at Perth upon an assembly of the brethren.'

'I care not,' answered the steward; 'he is but a priest of Baal.'

'Dryfesdale,' said the Lady, sternly, 'what meanest thou? I have ever heard, that in the Low Countries thou didst herd with the Anabaptist preachers, those boars which tear up the vintage?But the ministry which suits me and my house must content my retainers.'

'I would I had good ghostly counsel, though,' replied the steward, not attending to his mistress's rebuke, and seeming to speak to himself. 'This woman of Moab??'

'Speak of her with reverence,' said the Lady; 'she is a king's daughter.'

'Be it so,' replied Dryfesdale; 'she goes where there is little difference betwixt her and a beggar's child?Mary of Scotland is dying.'

'Dying, and in my castle!' said the Lady, starting up in alarm; 'of what disease, or by what accident?'

'Bear patience, Lady. The ministry was mine.'

'Thine, villain and traitor!?how didst thou dare??'

'I heard you insulted, Lady?I heard you demand vengeance?I promised you should have it, and I now bring tidings of it.'

'Dryfesdale, I trust thou ravest?' said the Lady.

'I rave not,' replied the steward. 'That which was written of me a million of years ere I saw the light, must