Chapter 5

A priest, ye cry, a priest!--lame shepherds they,
How shall they gather in the straggling flock?
Dumb dogs which bark not--how shall they compel
The loitering vagrants to the Master's fold?
Fitter to bask before the blazing fire,
And snuff the mess neat-handed Phillis dresses,
Than on the snow-wreath battle with the wolf.
REFORMATION.


The health of the Lady of Avenel had been gradually decaying ever
since her disaster. It seemed as if the few years which followed her
husband's death had done on her the work of half a century. She lost
the fresh elasticity of form, the colour and the mien of health, and
became wasted, wan, and feeble. She appeared to have no formed
complaint; yet it was evident to those who looked on her, that her
strength waned daily. Her lips at length became blenched and her eye
dim; yet she spoke not of any desire to see a priest, until Elspeth
Glendinning in her zeal could not refrain from touching upon a point
which she deemed essential to salvation. Alice of Avenel received her
hint kindly, and thanked her for it.

"If any good priest would take the trouble of such a journey," she
said, "he should be welcome; for the prayers and lessons of the good
must be at all times advantageous."

This quiet acquiescence was not quite what Elspeth Glendinning wished
or expected. She made up, however, by her own enthusiasm, for the
lady's want of eagerness to avail herself of ghostly counsel, and
Martin was despatched with such haste as Shagram would make, to pray
one of the religious men of Saint Mary's to come up to administer the
last consolations to the widow of Walter Avenel.

When the Sacristan had announced to the Lord Abbot, that the Lady of
the umquhile Walter de Avenel was in very weak health in the Tower of
Glendearg, and desired the assistance of a father confessor, the
lordly monk paused on the request.

"We do remember Walter de Avenel," he said; "a good knight and a
valiant: he was dispossessed of his lands, and slain by the
Southron--May not the lady come hither to the sacrament of confession?
the road is distant and painful to travel."

"The lady is unwell, holy father," answered the Sacristan, "and unable
to bear the journey."

"True--ay,--yes--then must one of our brethren go to her--Knowest
thou if she hath aught of a jointure from this Walter de Avenel?"

"Very little, holy father," said the Sacristan; "she hath resided at
Glendearg since her husband's death, well-nigh on the charity of a
poor widow, called Elspeth Glendinning."

"Why, thou knowest all the widows in the country-side!" said the
Abbot.