Chapter 33 - Page 2

and the rest must sleep for the
most part in their clothes. To send away another man, were to harass
the sentinels to death--unthrifty misuse for a household. To take in
new soldiers were dangerous, the charge requiring tried men. I see but
one thing for it--I will do your errand to Sir William Douglas
myself."

"That were indeed a resource!--And on what day within twenty years
would it be done?" said the Lady.

"Even with the speed of man and horse," said Dryfesdale; "for though I
care not much about the latter days of an old serving-man's life, yet
I would like to know as soon as may be, whether my neck is mine own or
the hangman's."

"Holdest thou thy own life so lightly?" said the Lady.

"Else I had reckoned more of that of others," said the
predestinarian--"What is death?--it is but ceasing to live--And what
is living?--a weary return of light and darkness, sleeping and waking,
being hungered and eating. Your dead man needs neither candle nor can,
neither fire nor feather-bed; and the joiner's chest serves him for an
eternal frieze-jerkin."

"Wretched man! believest thou not that after death comes the
judgment?"

"Lady," answered Dryfesdale, "as my mistress, I may not dispute your
words; but, as spiritually speaking, you are still but a burner of
bricks in Egypt, ignorant of the freedom of the saints; for, as was
well shown to me by that gifted man, Nicolaus Schoefferbach, who was
martyred by the bloody Bishop of Munster, he cannot sin who doth but
execute that which is predestined, since--"

"Silence!" said the Lady, interrupting him,--"Answer me not with thy
bold and presumptuous blasphemy, but hear me. Thou hast been long the
servant of our house--"

"The born servant of the Douglas--they have had the best of me--I
served them since I left Lockerbie: I was then ten years old, and you
may soon add the threescore to it."

"Thy foul attempt has miscarried, so thou art guilty only in
intention. It were a deserved deed to hang thee on the warder's
tower; and yet in thy present mind, it were but giving a soul to
Satan. I take thine offer, then--Go hence--here is my packet--I will
add to it but a line, to desire him to send me a faithful servant or
two to complete the garrison. Let my son deal with you as he will. If
thou art wise, thou wilt make for Lockerbie so soon as thy foot
touches dry land, and let the packet find another bearer; at all
rates, look it miscarries not."

"Nay, madam," replied he--"I was born, as I said, the Douglas's
servant, and I will be no corbie-messenger in mine old age--your