Chapter 7

When I hae a saxpence under my thumb,
Then I get credit in ilka town;
But when I am puir they bid me gae by--
Oh, poverty parts good company!
OLD SONG.

While the departure of the page afforded subject for the conversation
which we have detailed in our last chapter, the late favourite was far
advanced on his solitary journey, without well knowing what was its
object, or what was likely to be its end. He had rowed the skiff in
which he left the castle, to the side of the lake most distant from
the village, with the desire of escaping from the notice of the
inhabitants. His pride whispered, that he would be in his discarded
state, only the subject of their wonder and compassion; and his
generosity told him, that any mark of sympathy which his situation
should excite, might be unfavourably reported at the castle. A
trifling incident convinced him he had little to fear for his friends
on the latter score. He was met by a young man some years older than
himself, who had on former occasions been but too happy to be
permitted to share in his sports in the subordinate character of his
assistant. Ralph Fisher approached to greet him, with all the alacrity
of an humble friend.

"What, Master Roland, abroad on this side, and without either hawk or
hound?"

"Hawk or hound," said Roland, "I will never perhaps hollo to again. I
have been dismissed--that is, I have left the castle."

Ralph was surprised. "What! you are to pass into the Knight's service,
and take the black jack and the lance?"

"Indeed," replied Roland Graeme, "I am not--I am now leaving the
service of Avenel for ever."

"And whither are you going, then?" said the young peasant.

"Nay, that is a question which it craves time to answer--I have that
matter to determine yet," replied the disgraced favourite.

"Nay, nay," said Ralph, "I warrant you it is the same to you which way
you go--my Lady would not dismiss you till she had put some lining
into the pouches of your doublet."

"Sordid slave!" said Roland Graeme, "dost thou think I would have
accepted a boon from one who was giving me over a prey to detraction
and to ruin, at the instigation of a canting priest and a meddling
serving-woman? The bread that I had bought with such an alms would
have choked me at the first mouthful."

Ralph looked at his quondam friend with an air of wonder not unmixed
with contempt. "Well," he said, at length, "no occasion for
passion--each man knows his own stomach best--but, were I on a black
moor at this time of day, not knowing whither I was going, I should be
glad to