Chapter 12

Nay, hear me, brother--I am elder, wiser,
And holier than thou--And age, and wisdom,
And holiness, have peremptory claims,
And will be listen'd to.
OLD PLAY.

When the matrons re-entered, and put an end to the conversation--which
we have detailed in the last chapter, Dame Magdalen Graeme thus
addressed her grandson and his pretty companion: "Have you spoke
together, my children?--Have you become known to each other as
fellow-travellers on the same dark and dubious road, whom chance hath
brought together, and who study to learn the tempers and dispositions
of those by whom their perils are to be shared?"

It was seldom the light-hearted Catharine could suppress a jest, so
that she often spoke when she would have acted more wisely in holding
her peace.

"Your grandson admires the journey which you propose so very greatly,
that he was even now preparing for setting out upon it instantly."

"This is to be too forward, Roland," said the dame, addressing him,
"as yesterday you were over slack--the just mean lies in obedience,
which both waits for the signal to start, and obeys it when
given.--But once again, my children, have you so perused each other's
countenances, that when you meet, in whatever disguise the times may
impose upon you, you may recognize each in the other the secret agent
of the mighty work in which you are to be leagued?--Look at each
other, know each line and lineament of each other's countenance. Learn
to distinguish by the step, by the sound of the voice, by the motion
of the hand, by the glance of the eye, the partner whom Heaven hath
sent to aid in working its will.--Wilt thou know that maiden,
whensoever, or wheresoever you shall again meet her, my Roland
Graeme?"

As readily as truly did Roland answer in the affirmative. "And thou,
my daughter, wilt thou again remember the features of this youth?"

"Truly, mother," replied Catherine Seyton, "I have not seen so many
men of late, that I should immediately forget your grandson, though I
mark not much about him that is deserving of especial remembrance."

"Join hands, then, my children," said Magdalen Graeme; but, in saying
so, was interrupted by her companion, whose conventual prejudices had
been gradually giving her more and more uneasiness, and who could
remain acquiescent no longer.

"Nay, my good sister, you forget," said she to Magdalen, "Catharine is
the betrothed bride of Heaven--these intimacies cannot be."

"It is in the cause of Heaven that I command them to embrace," said
Magdalen, with the full force of her powerful voice; "the end, sister,
sanctifies the