# The Monastery (Scott, 1820)/Volume 2/Chapter 22

CHAPTER XI.
Julian Avenel saw with surprise the demeanour of the reverend stranger. "Beshrew me," he said, "these new-fashioned religioners have fast-days, I warrant me—the old ones used to confer these blessings chiefly on the laity."
"We acknowledge no such rule," said the preacher." We hold that our faith consists not in using or abstaining from special meats on special days; and in fasting we rend our hearts, and not our garments."
"The better—the better for yourselves, and the worse for Tom Tailor," said the Baron; "but come, sit down, or if thou ​needs must e'en give us a cast of thy office, mutter thy charm."
"Sir Baron," said the preacher, "I am in a strange land, where neither mine office nor my doctrine are known, and where, it would seem, both are greatly misunderstood. It is my duty so to bear me, that in my person, however unworthy, my Master's dignity may be respected, and that sin may take no confidence from relaxation of the bonds of discipline."
"Ho la! halt there," said the Baron; "thou wert sent hither for thy safety, but not, I think, to preach to, or controul me. What is it thou wouldst have, Sir Preacher? Remember thou speakest to one somewhat short of patience, who loves a short health and a long draught."
"In a word, then," said Henry Warden, "that lady"———
"How? said the Baron, starting—"what of her?—what hast thou to say of that dame?"
​"Is she thy house-dame?" said the preacher, after a moment's pause, in which he seemed to seek for the best mode of expressing what he had to say—"Is she in brief thy wife?"
The unfortunate young woman pressed both her hands on her face, as if to hide it, but the deep blush which crimsoned her brow and neck, shewed that her cheeks were also glowing; and the bursting tears which found their way betwixt her slender fingers, bore witness to her sorrow, as well as to her shame.
"Now, by my father's ashes!" said the Baron, rising and spurning from him his footstool with such violence, that it hit the wall on the opposite side of the apartment—then instantly constraining himself, he muttered, "What need to run myself into trouble for a fool's word?"—then resuming his seat, he answered coldly and scornfully—"No, Sir Priest or Sir Preacher, Catherine is not my wife—Cease thy whimpering, ​thou foolish wench—she is not my wife, but she is handfasted with me, and that makes her as honest a woman."
"Handfasted?"—repeated Warden.
"Knowest thou not that rite, holy man?" said Avenel, in the same tone of derision; "then I will tell thee—we Border-men are more wary than your inland clowns of Fife and Lothian—no jump in the dark for us—no clenching the fetters around our wrists till we know how they will wear with us—we take our wives, like our horses, upon trial. When we are handfasted, as we term it, we are man and wife for a year and day—that space gone by, each may chuse another mate, or, at their pleasure, may call the priest to marry them for life—and this we call handfasting."
"Then," said the preacher, "I tell thee, noble Baron, in brotherly love to thy soul, it is a custom licentious, gross, and corrupted, and, if persisted in, dangerous, yea, damnable. It binds thee to the frailer be​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/323 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/324 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/325 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/326 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/327 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/328 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/329 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/330 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/331 ​ken silence, cried out aloud, "What, ho! my masters—are ye Border-riders, and sit as mute over your meal as a mess of monks and friars?—Some one sing, if no one list to speak. Meat eaten without either mirth or music, is ill of digestion.—Louis," he added, speaking to one of the youngest of his followers, "thou art ready enough to sing when no one bids thee."
The young man looked first at his master, then up to the arched roof of the hall, then drank off the horn of ale, or wine, which stood beside him, and with a rough, yet not unmelodious voice, sung the following ditty to the ancient air of "Blue Bonnets over the Border."
The song, rude as it was, had in it that warlike character which at any other time would have roused Halbert's spirit; but at present the charm of minstrelsy had no effect upon him. He made it his request to Christie to suffer him to retire to rest, a request with which that worthy person, seeing no chance of making a favourable impression on his intended proselyte in his present humour, was at length pleased to comply. But no Serjeant Kite, who ever prac​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/334 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/335 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/336 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/337 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/338 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/339 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/340 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/341 ​Page:The Monastery (1820).djvu/342 ​across the lake in the northern direction. When he landed and looked back on the castle, he could observe that the alarm had been given, for lights glanced from window to window, and he heard the draw-bridge lowered, and the tread of horses' feet upon the causeway. But, little alarmed for the consequence of a pursuit during the darkness, he wrung the water from his dress, and, plunging into the moors, directed his course to the north-east by the assistance of the polar star.
END OF VOLUME SECOND.
Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.