The monastery; The abbot.

256 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
in order, and restrained the marks of their sorrow to a low wailing sound,
which rather mingled with than interrupted the measured-chant of the
monks.
In this order the procession entered the market-place of the village of
Kennaquhair, which was then, as now, distinguished by an ancient cross
of curious workmanship, the gift of some former monarch of Scotland. Close
by the cross, of much greater antiquity, and scarcely less honoured, was an
immensely large oak-tree, which perhaps had witnessed the worship of the
Druids, ere the stately Monastery to which it adjoined had raised its spires
in honour of the Christian faith. Like the Bentang-tree of the African villages, or the Plaistow-oak mentioned in White's Natural History of Selborne, this tree was the rendezvous of the villagers, and regarded with
peculiar veneration; a feeling common to most nations, and which perhaps
may be traced up to the remote period when the patriarch feasted the angels
under the oak at Mamre.*
The monks formed themselves each in their due place around the cross,
while under the ruins of the aged tree crowded the old and the feeble, with
others who felt the common alarm. When they had thus arranged themselves, there was a deep and solemn pause. The monks stilled their chant,
the lay populace hushed their lamentations, and all awaited in terror and
silence the arrival of those heretical forces, whom they had been so long
taught to regard with fear and trembling.
A distant trampling was at length heard, and the glance of spears was
seen to shine through the trees above the village. The sounds increased,
and became more thick, one close continuous rushing sound, in which the
tread of hoofs was mingled with the ringing of armour. The horsemen
soon appeared at the principal entrance which leads into the irregular
square or market-place which forms the centre of the village. They entered
two by two, slowly, and in the greatest order. The van continued to move
on, riding round the open space, until they had attained the utmost point,
and then turning their horses' heads to the street, stood fast; their companions followed in the same order, until the whole market-place was closely
surrounded with soldiers; and the files who followed, making the same manoeuvre, formed an inner line within those who had first arrived, until the
place was begirt with a quadruple file of horsemen closely drawn up.'There
was now a pause, of which the Abbot availed himself, by commanding the
brotherhood to raise the solemn chant De profundis clanmavi. He looked
around the armed ranks, to see what impression the solemn sounds made on
them. All were silent, but the brows of some had an expression of contempt, and almost all the rest bore a look of indifference; their course had
been too long decided to permit past feelings of enthusiasm to be anew
awakened by a procession or by a hymn.
"Their hearts are hardened," said the Abbot to himself in dejection,
but not in despair; "it remains to see whether those of their leaders are
equally obdurate."
The leaders, in the meanwhile, were advancing slowly, and Murray, with
Morton, rode in deep conversation before a chosen band of their most distinguished followers, amongst whom came Halbert Glendinning. But the
preacher Henry Warden, who, upon leaving the Monastery, had instantly
Joined them, was the only person admitted to their conference.
"You are determined, then," said Morton to Murray, "to give the
heiress of Avenel, with all her pretensions, to this nameless and obscure
young man?"
"Hath not Warden told you," said Murray, "that they have been bred
together, and are lovers from their youth upward?"
"And that they are both," said Warden, "by means which may be
* 1; is scarcely necessary to say, that in Melrose, the prototype of Kennaquhair, no such sak over existed.