The monastery; The abbot.

T1E ABBOT. 451
"Of that, fair sir," replied the maiden, "I will tell you moie when we
have danced the first measure."
Catherine Seyton had admirable skill in gestic lore, and was sometimes
called on to dance for the amusement of her royal mistress. Roland Grieme
had often been a spectator of her skill, and sometimes, at the Queen's command, Catherine's partner on such occasions. He was, therefore, perfectly
acquainted with Catherine's mode of.dancing; and observed that his present
partner, in grace, in agility, in quickness of ear, and precision of execution,
exactly resembled her, save that the Scottish jig, which he now danced with
her, required a more violent and rapid motion, and more rustic agility, than
the stately pavens, lavoltas, and courantoes, which he had seen her execute
in the chamber of Queen Mary. The active duties of the dance left him
little time for reflection, and none for conversation; but when their pas de
deux was finished, amidst the acclamations of the villagers, who had seldom
witnessed such an exhibition, he took an opportunity, when they yielded
up the green to another couple, to use the privilege of a partner and enter
into conversation with the mysterious maiden, whom he still held by the
hand.
"Fair partner, may I not crave the name of her who has graced me
thus far?"
"You may," said the maiden; "but it is a question whether I shall
answer you."
" And why?" asked Roland.
"Because nobody gives anything for nothing - and you can tell me
nothing in return which I care to hear."
"Could I not tell you my name and lineage, in exchange.for yours?"
returned Roland.
" No!" answered the maiden, " for you know little of either."
" How?" said the page, somewhat angrily.
" Wrath you not for the matter," said the damsel; " I will show you iiI
an instant that I know more of you than you do of yourself."
" Indeed," answered Grieme; "for whom then do you take me?"
" For the wild falcon," answered she, " whom a dog brought in his mnouth
to a certain castle, when he was but an unfledged eyas-for the hawk
whom men dare not fly, lest he should check at game, and pounce on carrion
- whom folk must keep hooded till he has the proper light of his eyes, and
can discover good from evil."
"Well- be it so," replied Roland Graeme; "I guess at a part of your
parable, fair mistress mine -and perhaps I know as much of you as you
do of me, and can well dispense with the information which you are so niggard in giving."
" Prove that," said the maiden, "and I will give you credit for more penetration than I judged you to be gifted withal."
"It shall be proved instantly," said Roland Grieme. " The first letter of
your name is S, and the last N."
"Admirable," said his partner, "guess on."
"It pleases you to-day," continued Roland, "to wear the snood and
kirtle, and perhaps you may be seen to-morrow in hat and feather, hose
and doublet."
" In the clout! in the clout! you have hit the very white," said the damsel,
suppressing a great inclination to laugh.
"You can switch men's eyes out of their heads, as well as the heart out
of their bosoms."
These last words were uttered in a low and tender tone, which, to Roland's
great mortification, and somewhat to his displeasure, was so far from allaying, that it greatly increased, his partner's disposition to laughter. She
could scarce compose herself while she replied, "If you had thought my
hand so formidable," extricating it from his hold, "you would not hare