With every pair the scene was much the same. Tam was so much astonished that he turned to his second self, cowered down, leaning his hands upon his knees, and made a staunch point at him. The other took precisely the same posture, so that their long noses almost met. The maid, the poet, and the boy screamed with laughter. Both of the Tams laughed too, so that they very much resembled an ideot looking at himself in a gla.s.s.

"Friend, I canna say but ye're very like me," said Gibbie to his partner; "But, though nane o' us be great beauties, ye look rather the warst o' the twae."

"It brings me a-mind o' a story I hae heard my mother tell," said the other, "of a lady and her twa Blackamores"--

"What the deil man!" exclaimed the first; "Did your mother tell that story too?"

"Ay; wha else but she tauld it? I say my mother, auld Effy Blakely of the Peatstacknowe."

"Eh?--She your mother? It is gayan queer if we be baith ane after a'!

for I never had a billy."

The two Gibbies then both began to tell stories, which each claimed as originally his, so that the perplexity still increased. Nor was it better when the parties began to mix and address each other. All spoke of themselves as the right and proper persons, and of the others as beings in their likenesses, and the most complete uncertainty prevailed.

But, just as the novelty and interest of the drama began to subside, Michael, by a wave of his hand annihilated the three additional personages, and all remained as it was before the grand exhibition commenced, save that our group had got a new topic of conversation and merriment.

"Primate of Douay, so celebrated for thy mighty enchantments, how thinkest thou of this?" said the Master.

"That thou hast done what no man could have done beside," said the friar; "and that thy power even surpa.s.seth that of the magicians of Egypt, and of those of the countries in the lands of the east. But in one thing my power is even as thy power. Dost thou know that I could have prevented thy charm, and put a period to thy enchantment at my will and pleasure?"

"It is not the power of prevention that we are trying," said the Master.

"Suffer my servants to do their work, as I shall suffer thine, and we shall then see who are most punctually obeyed, and who shall perform the greatest works. Only, if I prevail in all things, you will surely have the generosity to acknowledge that my master is greater than thine?"

"Wo be unto me if such a confession proceed out of my lips!" said the friar: "Who can be greater than he who builded the stories of heaven, and laid the foundations of this earth below; who lighted up the sun, sending him abroad in brightness and in glory, and placed the moon and the stars in the firmament on high? Who is greater than he who hath made the mountains to stand, the seas to roll, and the winds to blow? who hath not only made the souls of men, but all the spirits of the upper and nether world--"

"Peace, thou maniac!" cried the Master, interrupting the friar, in a voice that made him leap from the floor: "Comest thou here to babble treason against the master whom I serve, and the mighty spirits with whom I am in league? Do what thou canst do, and cease from speaking evil of dignities. What knowest thou of the princ.i.p.alities and powers that inhabit and rule over the various regions of the universe? No more than the mole that grovelleth beneath the sward.--What further canst thou do in proof of thy profound art?"

"Behold with thine eyes, O thou who accountest thyself the greatest among the children of men!" said the friar, with a waggish air; "that I will but speak the word, and the mountains shall be rent asunder, and the tops of the everlasting hills stand in opposition. Knowest thou the proper name, figure, and dimensions of that peaked mountain over against the castle, to the west?"

"Well may I know it," said the Master, "for I have looked out on it these fifty years, and many a hundred times have I followed the chase around it. It is named Cope-Law, and the mountain is my own."

"Mountain of Cope-Law, hear my voice," cried the friar in the same waggish tone, in which there was an affectation of sublime command: "Thou hast borne the footsteps of thy great master and his black horse Beelzebub, yet hast thou neither been scorched nor rent. Yea though he hath cursed thee in the bitterness of ire, yet hath thy grey head never been shaken.--But, behold, a greater than thy master is here. Mountain of Cope-Law, hear my voice:--Be thou rent asunder and divided into three, that thy owner may look on thee and be astonied. If it please thee, mighty magician, look out on thy mountain of Cope-Law now."

Many a thousand times had the Master looked out at that circular window; every bush and grey stone on the hill were familiar to him; and, all unsuspicious of the simple deceit that had been practised on him, he went and looked forth from the window, when, in the place where one round peaked mountain was wont to be, he actually saw three, all of the same dimensions; and, as he weened, each of them more steep, tall, and romantic than the original one had been. He looked, and looked again--the optical delusion was complete. He paced the floor in sullen mood; muttered some sentences to himself in an under tone, and once more looked forth on the singular phenomenon. The mountains remained the same. They could not be seen from any other window, and no one thought of descending to the great balcony; so that in the eyes of all the friar remained triumphant.

The Master could not brook this. He strode the floor in gloomy indignation; and at length they heard him saying, "If I should venture to demand it--But is it then to be my last great work? The demand is dreadful!--I will--I'll demand it. Never shall it be said that Michael Scott was out-done in his own art, and that by a poor peddling friar.

Come all of you hither," added he in a louder tone. "Look at that mountain to the east. It is known to you all--the great hill of Eildon.

You see and know that it is one round, smooth, and unbroken cone."

"We all know it, and have known it from infancy," was the general answer.

The Master gave three strokes with his heel, and called the names of his three elfin pages, who in an instant stood before him.--"Work, Master, work,--what work now?"

"Look at that mountain to the east," said he, "ycleped the hill of Eildon. Go and twist me it into three."

The pages grinned, looking at him with eyes of a devilish gleam, as a ravenous creature eyes its prey.

"The hill is a granite rock," said one,--"and five arrow-flights high,"

said another,--"and seventy round the base," said the first.

"All the powers of earth, and h.e.l.l to boot, are unmeet to the task,"

added the third.

"Thou art a proud and impertinent liar, perverse imp of the regions of flame," said the Master: "Note this, The thing must, and shall be done; even though a body and soul should both be given up as the guerdon. I know my conditions; they are sealed, and subscribed, and I am not to be disobeyed. Get to your work without more hesitation."

The three pages then fell to reeling about and about, singing a wild and uncouth trio, in words of the following import:

"Pick and spade To our aid!

Flaught and flail, Fire and hail!

Winds arise, and tempests brattle, And if you will the thunders rattle.

Come away Elfin grey, Much to do ere break of day!

Come with spade, and sieve, and shovel; Come with roar, and rout, and revel; Come with crow, and come with crane, Strength of steed, and weight of wain, Crash of rock, and roar of river; And, if you will, with thunders shiver!

Come away, Elfin grey; Much to do ere break of day!"

As they sung these last lines they reeled out at the door in a circular motion, so rapid that the eye dazzled which looked on them. The poet, drawn involuntarily by the ears after that wild fairy lay, hasted out after them. He looked east, and west, and all around, but he only saw three crows winging their flight toward the hill of Eildon.

From the time of their departure the temper of the great Master became extremely variable. At one time his visage would be clouded with the gloom of despair, and at another lighted up with a sort of horrid exultation; but he spake not, save to himself.

The friar, therefore, in order to divert his host, and gratify his own vanity, proposed to show off some more wonders of his art. Accordingly he closed up all the windows once more, making the apartment as dark as pitch, and exercised many curious chemical devices, lighted Roman candles, and made them dance about the chamber in every colour of the rainbow.

He was still busily employed playing off his little ingenious tricks, when the party were disturbed by a bustle in one of the corners. It chanced to be so dark at the moment that no one could see what was going on; but they heard a noise as of two people struggling; then a blow, and one falling down with a groan.

The friar paused, calling out and enquiring what it was. Charlie, never behind in a fray, bustled over the forms toward the scene of action; but falling by the way, the noise was quickly removed to another corner, a door was opened and shut, and all was again quiet.

Every one ran about groping his way in the dark, and coming full drive against others, till the friar had the presence of mind to pull the stuffing out of some of the windows. The first thing they then saw was the poet lying on the floor, void of sense and motion; and then it quickly appeared that the steward and Delany were a-wanting. The whole party, save the Master, set out on the pursuit, headed by the friar and Charlie, and came just in time to rescue the maid as the wretch was dragging her into his abominable cell. It seemed that he had determined on seizing her as his prey, and now that the three infernal pages, his tormentors, were dispatched elsewhere, he feared neither the Master nor his guests; and, taking advantage of the utter darkness, and of the poet and her being in a corner by themselves, he stole up to them, gagged the maid, silenced the poet, who resisted, with one blow, and then bore off the helpless lady with all expedition.

When he saw that he was overtaken and overpowered by numbers, he only laughed at them; and a.s.sured them that, in spite of all they could do, he would have possession of her, and that they should see. The girl wept and complained of being hurt; but then he only laughed and mocked the louder. Some of them proposed that they should hew him all to pieces, but the friar had resolved on his measures, and, at his request, they took the culprit up before the Master, and there lodged their accusations against him. But the Master either durst not, or would not say a word against him; for, in fact, it appeared that this great man, without his familiar spirits, shrunk into nothing, and was not only afraid of his own bondsman, but of every thing around him, deeming himself altogether without help.

The friar's eye burned with indignation and rage, at witnessing such arrogance on the one hand, and imbecility on the other; but his bootless wrath only delighted the steward the more; and it was evident that, had it not been for fear of Charlie Scott's long sword and heavy hand, he would have taken his prey from the midst of them.

Delany still wept and sobbed till her bosom was like to rend, and begged to be taken away from the castle, or to be killed and put in her grave.

The friar tried, with all the fair and kind speeches he was master of, to comfort her; but when she saw the poet pale, bleeding, and sitting still unable to rise, she only waxed worse, and hid herself from the eye of the wretch behind the friar's frock.

"Daughter of my love, and child of many misfortunes, be thou comforted,"

said the friar; "for though the wicked triumph for a s.p.a.ce in their iniquity, yet shall they not thrive. They who refuse to do justice to the innocent and upright in heart shall perish in their sin, and pa.s.s away as the smoke that is driven by the wind. Therefore, my daughter, be thou comforted; and that thy heart may be cheered, I will show thee a wonder of my art,--a wonder so great that whosoever seeth it his heart shall melt within him; and whosoever heareth of it his ears shall tingle. Come, whoso listeth, forth into the open air, and I will do it in the sight of heaven and of man."

The friar then lifting up his huge portmanteau, went forth to the large paved gateway that surrounded the whole of the uppermost arches of the castle. It was so ample as to be like a small field, for it covered all the castle, save four small pointed turrets, and the square apartment which the party now left, that rose like a shapeless dome above all. In one corner of this level battlement there stood a leaden vessel that had once been used as a cistern. To that the friar went; and, laying down his huge walise, he took from thence a handful of blackish sand, and strinkled it all around the battlement on the one side to the opposite corner. He then stood and looked awfully around him. He looked to the heavens, but they were shrouded in a dark hideous cloud that now covered the mountains, and hung lowering over the uppermost spire of the castle.

Neither the Cope-Law nor the hill of Eildon could be seen, nor could aught be seen save the dark and troubled cloud. The scene was truly impressive; and when the rest saw the friar looking on it with such apparent dread, all of them looked abroad with him, and whispered to one another, "He's gaun to be about some awesome enchantment now."

The friar covered up his pormanteau with the leaden vessel, and then desired the Master to bring any weight he chose, and heap it on its bottom, which he had now turned uppermost, and, at one word or sign, he would make his goat-skin wallet carry the vessel, and all such weight, round the battlements of the castle.

The Master, and every one present, p.r.o.nounced the thing to be impossible,--the steward grinned in derision,--and, after mocking and taunting the friar on his art in the most gross and provoking terms, he proffered to hold down the leaden tub, wallet and altogether, or to forfeit his head if he failed. Then laying himself over it, in the att.i.tude of holding it down, he called on the friar to proceed, and give him the promised canter round the walls, which he well deserved, he said, not only for his kindness to them all, and to their Miss in particular, but also for his kind intentions. Then he scoffed aloud, crying out, "Now thou poor vain fool and liar, be as good as thy word, and give me, an it were, but one hobble."

"G.o.d do so to me, and more also," said the friar, "if I do not give thee such a hobble as eye hath not seen!"

With that he struck a spark of fire among the black sand, as the rest supposed it to be, that lay among his feet. The sand caught fire,--the flame ran sputtering around the western battlement,--and the next moment the steward and his tub bolted away into the firmament in a tremendous flash of fire, and with a sound so loud that it shook the castle to its foundations. Some averred that they saw, through the fire and smoke, a momentary glance of him and the cistern both, as they pierced the cloud towards the north; but nothing further was heard or seen,--and, in a second of time, all was quite and gloomy above and around as it had been before.