The monastery; The abbot.

474 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
^liintt tat Cirtt-iir^f
Poison'd -ill fare! -dead, forsook, cast off! -
KING JOHN.
HOWEVER weary Roland Graeme might be of the Castle of Lochleven -
however much he might wish that the plan for Mary's escape had been
perfected, I question if he ever awoke with more pleasing feelings than on
the morning after George Douglas's plan for accomplishing her deliverance
had been frustrated. In the first place, he had the clearest conviction that
he had misunderstood the innuendo of the Abbot, and that the affections of
Douglas were fixed, not on Catherine Seyton, but on the Queen; and in the
second place, from the sort of explanation which had taken place betwixt
the steward and him, he felt himself at liberty, without any breach of
honour towards the family of Lochleven, to contribute his best aid to any
scheme which should in future be formed for the Queen's escape; and, independently of the good-will which he himself had to the enterprise, he
knew he could find no surer road to the favour of Catherine Seyton. He
now sought but an opportunity to inform her that he had dedicated himself
to this task, and fortune was propitious in affording him one which was
unusually favourable.
At the ordinary hour of breakfast, it was introduced by the steward with
his usual forms, who, as soon as it was placed on the board in the inner
apartment, said to Roland Graeme, with a glance of sarcastic import, "I
leave you, my young sir, to do the office of sewer- it has been too long
rendered to the Lady Mary by one belonging to the house of Douglas."
"Were it the prime and principal who ever bore the name," said Roland,
"the office were an honour to him."
The steward departed without replying to this bravade, otherwise than
by a dark look of scorn. Greeme, thus left alone, busied himself as one
engaged in a labour of love, to imitate, as well as he could, the grace and
courtesy with which George of Douglas was wont to render his ceremonial
service at meals to the Queen of Scotland. There was more than youthful
vanity-there was a generous devotion in the feeling with which he took up
the task, as a brave soldier assumes the place of a comrade who has fallen
in the front of battle. "I am now," he said, "their only champion: and,.
come weal, come wo, I will be, to the best of my skill and power, as
faithful, as trustworthy, as brave, as any Douglas of them all could have
been."
At this moment Catherine Seyton entered alone, contrary to her custom;
and not less contrary to her custom, she entered with her kerchief at het
eyes. Roland Grseme approached her with beating heart and with dofvw
cast eyes, and asked her, in a low and hesitating voice, whether the Queen
were well?
"Can you suppose it?" said Catherine. " Think you her heart and body
are framed of steel and iron, to endure the cruel disappointment of yester
even, and the infamous taunts of yonder puritanic hag?-Would to God
that I were a man, to aid her more effectually!"
" If those who carry pistols, and batons, and poniards," said the page,
"are not men, they are at least Amazons; and that is as formidable.
"You are welcome to the flash of your wit, sir," replied the damsel; "I
am neither in spirits to enjoy, nor to reply to it."
"Well, then," said the page, "list to me in all serious truth. And, first,
kt me say, that the gear last night had been smoother, had you taken me
iito your counsels."