Mary was as busy all the remaining part of that day as ever was a bee in a meadow. She had private business with the Queen, and had art or interest enough to get two private audiences. She had business with the lady Jane Howard; a word to say to the King, and two or three to the lord Douglas--But it is a great loss that these important disclosures cannot be imparted here,--for every word that she told to each of them was a profound secret! Not a word of it ever to be repeated till death! What a loss for posterity! It had one quality, there was not a word of truth in all this important disclosure; but an ingenious lie by a woman is much more interesting than one of her true stories. There was, however, one of Mary Kirkmichael's secrets came to light, though none of those above-mentioned; and from the complexion of that, a good guess may be made at the matter of all the rest.

Sir Charles Scott, alias Muckle Charlie of Yardbire, was standing at the head of his hard-headed Olivers, his grimy Potts, and his skrae-shankit Laidlaws, in all amounting now to 140 brave and well appointed soldiers. He had them all dressed out in their best light uniform, consisting of deer-skin jackets with the hair outside; buckskin breeches, tanned white as snow, with the hair inside; blue bonnets as broad as the rim of a lady's spinning wheel, and clouted single-soaled shoes. He was training them to some evolutions for a grand parade before the King, and was himself dressed in his splendid battle array, with his plumes and ta.s.sels of gold. His bonnet was of the form of a turban, and his tall nodding plumes consisted of three fox tails, two of them dyed black, and the middle one crimson. A goodlier sight than Sir Charles at the head of his borderers, no eye of man (or woman either) ever beheld. As he stood thus giving the word of command, and brandishing the Eskdale souple by way of example, in the great square in the middle of the fortress, a little maid came suddenly to his side and touched him. Charles was extending his voice at the time, and the interruption made him start inordinately, and cut a loud syllable short in the middle. The maid made a low courtesy, while Charles stooped forward and looked at her as a man does who has dropt a curious gem or pin on the ground, and cannot find it. "Eh? G.o.d bless us, what is't hinny? Ye war amaist gart me start."

"My mistress requests a few minutes private conversation with you, sir knight."

"Whisht dame! speak laigh," said Sir Charles, half whispering, and looking raised-like at his warriors: "Wha's your mistress, my little bonny dow? Eh? Oh you're nodding and smirking, are you? Harkee, It's no the auld Queen, is it? Eh?"

"You will see who it is presently, gallant knight. It is a matter of the greatest import to you, as well as your captain."

"Ha! Gude faith, then it maunna be neglected. I'll be w'ye even now, lads; saunter about, but dinna quit this great four-nooked fauld till I come back again. Come along, then, my wee bonny hen chicken. Raux up an' gie me a grip o' your finger-ends. Side for side's neighbour like." So away went Sir Charles, leading his tiny conductor by the hand, and was by her introduced into one of the hundred apartments in the citadel.

"Our captain is gaun aff at the nail now," said Will Laidlaw; "Thae new honours o' his are gaun to be his ruin. He's getting far ower muckle in favour wi' the grit fo'k."

"I wonder to hear ye speak that gate," said Gideon Pott of Bilhope: "I think it be true that the country says, that ye maun aye read a Laidlaw backward. What can contribute sae muckle to advance a gentleman and his friends as to be in favour with the great?"

"I am a wee inclined to be of Laidlaw's opinion," said Peter Oliver of the Langburnsheils, (for these three were the headsmen of the three names marshalled under Sir Charles,)--"Sudden rise, sudden fa'; that was a saying o' my grandfather's, and he was very seldom in the wrong.

I wadna wonder a bit to see our new knight get his head choppit off; for I think, if he haud on as he is like to do, he'll soon be ower grit wi' the Queen. Fo'k should bow to the bush they get bield frae, but take care o' lying ower near the laiggens o't. That was a saying o' my grandfather's aince when they want.i.t him to visit at the castle of Mountcomyn."

"There is he to the gate now," said Laidlaw, "and left his men, his bread-winners, in the very mids o' their lessons; and as sure as we saw it, some o' thae imps will hae his simple honest head into Hoy's net wi' some o' thae braw women. Wha wins at their hands will lose at naething. I never bodit ony good for my part o' the gowden cuishes and the gorget, and the three walloping tod tails. Mere eel-baits for catching herons!"

"Ay weel I wat that's little short of a billyblinder, lad!" said Peter Oliver; "I trow I may say to you as my grandfather said to the ghost, 'Ay, ay, Billy Baneless, 'an a' tales be true, yours is nae lie,' quo'

he; and he was a right auldfarrant man."

But as this talk was going on among the borderers, Sir Charles, as before said, was introduced into a private chamber, where sat no less a dame than the officious and important lady of all close secrets, Mistress Mary Kirkmichael of Balmedie, who rose and made three low courtesies, and then with an affected faultering tongue and downcast look, addressed Sir Charles as follows: "Most n.o.ble and gallant knight,--hem--Pardon a modest and diffident maiden, sir knight!--pink of all chivalry and hero of the Border: I say be so generous as to forgive the zeal of a blushing virgin for thus presuming to interrupt your warrior avocations.--(Sir Charles bowed.)--But, O knight--hem--there is a plot laying, or laid against your freedom.

Pray may I take the liberty to ask, Are you free of any love engagement?"

"Perfectly so, madam, at--hem!----"

"At my service. Come that is so far well. You could not then possibly have any objections to a young lady of twenty-one or thereby, n.o.bly descended, heir to seven ploughgates of land, and five half-davochs, and most violently in love with you."

"I maun see her first, and hear her speak," said the knight, "and ken what blood and what name; and whether she be Scots or English."

"Suppose that you _have_ seen her and heard her speak," said the dame; "and suppose she was of Fife blood; and that her name was _lady_ Mary Kirkmichael: What would you then say against her?"

"Nothing at all, madam," said Sir Charles, bowing extremely low.

"Do you then consent to accept of such a one for your lady?"

"How can I possibly tell? Let me see her."

"O Sir Charles! gallant and generous knight! do not force a young blushing virgin to disclose what she would gladly conceal. You _do_ see her, Sir Charles! You _do_ see her and hear her speak too. Nay, you see her kneeling at your feet, brave and generous knight! You see her _tears_ and you hear her _weep_,--and what hero can withstand that? Oh Sir Charles!--

"Hout, hout, hout!" cried Sir Charles interrupting her, and raising her gently with both hands, "Hout, hout, hout! for heaven's sake behave yoursel, and dinna flee away wi' the joke athegither, sweet lady. Ye may be very weel, and ye are very weel for ought that I see, but troth ye ken a man maun do ae thing afore another, and a woman too. Ye deserve muckle better than the likes o' me, but I dinna incline marriage; and mair than that, I hae nae time to spare."

"Ah, Sir Charles, you should not be so cruel. You should think better of the fair s.e.x, Sir Charles! Look at this face. What objections have you to it, Sir Charles?"

"The face is weel enough, but it will maybe change. The last blooming face that took me in turned put a very different article the next day.

Ah, lady! Ye little ken what I hae suffered by women and witchcraft, or ye wadna bid me think weel o' them."

"Well, knight, since I cannot melt your heart, I must tell you that there is a plot against your liberty, and you will be a married man before to morrow's night. It is a grand plot, and I am convinced it is made solely to entrap you to marry an English heiress that is a captive here, who is fallen so deeply in love with you that, if she does not attain you for her lover and husband, her heart will break. She has made her case known to the Queen, and I have come by it: therefore, sir knight, as you value my life, keep this a _profound_ secret. I thought it a pity not to keep you out of English connections; therefore I sent for you privily to offer you my own hand, and then you could get off on the score of engagement."

"Thank you kindly, madam."

"Well, Sir. On pretence of an appendage to the marriage of the king's favourite daughter with the greatest n.o.bleman of the land, before the festival conclude, it is agreed on that there are to be a number of weddings beside, which are all to be richly endowed. The ladies are to choose among the heroes of the games; and this lady Jane Howard is going to make choice of you, and the law is to be framed in such a manner that there will be no evading it with honour. You have been a mortal enemy to the English; so have they to you. Had not you better then avoid the connection by a previous marriage, or an engagement say?

"I think I'll rather take chance, with your leave, madam: Always begging your pardon, ye see. But, depend on it, I'll keep your secret, and am indebted to you for your kind intentions. I'll take chance.

They winna surely force a wife on ane whether he will or no?"

"Perhaps not. One who does _not incline marriage_, and has not _time to spare_ to be married, may be excused. Tell me, seriously; surely you will never think of accepting of her?"

"It is time to decide about that when aince I get the offer. I can hardly trow what ye say is true; but if the King and the Warden will hae it sae, ye ken what can a body do?"

"Ah, there it is! Cruel Sir Charles! But you know you really have not a minute's _time to spare_ for marriage, and the want of _inclination_ is still worse. I have told you, sir knight, and the plot will be accomplished to-morrow. I would you would break her heart, and absolutely refuse her, for I hate the rosy minx. But three earldoms and nine hundred thousand marks go far! Ah me! Goodbye, n.o.ble knight.

Be secret for my sake."

Sir Charles returned to his men in the great square, laughing in his sleeve all the way. He spoke some to himself likewise, but it was only one short sentence, which was this: "Three earldoms and nine hundred thousand marks! Gudefaith, Corbie will be astonished."

It was reported afterwards, that this grand story of Mary's to Sir Charles was was nothing at all in comparison with what she told to lady Jane, of flames and darts, heroism, royal favour, and distinction; and, finally, of endless captivity in the event of utter rejection. However that was, when the troops a.s.sembled around the fortress in the evening, and the leaders in the hall, proclamations were made in every quarter, setting forth, that all the champions who had gained prizes since the commencement of the Christmas games were to meet together, and contend at the same exercises before the King, for other prizes of higher value; and, farther, that every successful candidate should have an opportunity of acquiring his mistress' hand in marriage, with rich dowries, honours, manors, and privileges, to be conferred by the King and Queen; who, at the same time gave forth their peremptory commands, that these gallants should meet with no denial, and this on pain of forfeiting the royal favour and protection, not only towards the dame so refusing, but likewise to her parents, guardians, and other relations.

Never was there a proclamation issued that made such a deray among the fair s.e.x as this. All the beauty of the Lowlands of Scotland was a.s.sembled at this royal festival. The city of Roxburgh and the town of Kelso were full of visitors; choke full of them! There were ladies in every house, beside the inmates; and, generally speaking, three _at an average_ for every male, whether in the city or suburbs. Yet, for all these lovely women of high rank and accomplishments, none else fled from the consequences of the mandate but one alone, who dreaded a rival being preferred,--a proof how little averse the ladies of that age were to the bonds of matrimony. Such a night as that was in the city! There were running to and fro, rapping at doors, and calling of names during the whole night. It was a terrible night for the dressmakers; for there was such a run upon them, and they had so much ado, that they got nothing done at all, except the receiving of orders which there was no time to execute.

Next morning, at eight of the day, by the abbey bell, the mult.i.tude were a.s.sembled, when the names of the former heroes were all called over, but only sixteen appeared, although twenty-two stood on the list. The candidates were then all taken into an apartment by themselves, and treated with viands and wines, with whatever else they required. There also they were instructed in the laws of the game.

Every one was obliged to contend at every one of the exercises; and the conqueror in each was to retire into the apartment of the ladies, where they were all placed in a circle, lay his prize at his mistress's feet, and retire again to the sports without uttering a word.

The exercises were held on the large plain south of the Teviot, so that they were beheld by the whole mult.i.tude without any inconveniency.

The flowers of the land also beheld from their apartment in the castle, although no one saw them in return, save the fortunate contenders in the field. The first trial was a foot race for a chain of gold, given by the lady Douglas, and all the sixteen being obliged to run, the sport afforded by the race was excellent; for the eager desire to be foremost acted not more powerfully to urge the candidates to exertion than the dread of being the last, so that the two hindmost were straining every nerve, and gasping as voraciously for breath as the two foremost. Sir Charles Scott took the lead, leaving the rest quite behind, so far that every one thought he would gain with all manner of ease, and they began to hail him as conqueror. But owing to his great weight he lost breath, and in spite of all he could do the poet made by him and won the prize, which he took with a proud and a joyful heart, and laid at the feet of Delany. "Bauchling shurf!" exclaimed Sir Charles, laughing when he saw the poet pa.s.sing his elbow, "Useless bauchling shurf! an I had kend I wad hae letten ye lie, and been singit to an izle in the low o'

Ravensworth."

"Knight, I think ye hae lost," cried one.

"I think sae, too," said Charles. "I liket aye better to rin ahint an Englishman than afore him a' my life."

The next game given out was a trial in leaping, for a pair of bracelets, clasped with gold, and set with jewels, given by the Queen.

These also the poet won, and laid at Delany's feet. Sir Charles won three; one for tilting on horseback, one for wrestling, and one for pitching the iron bar, and he laid all the three prizes at the feet of lady Jane Howard. Two lords won each of them two prizes, and other two knights won each of them one; and all, unknown to one another, laid them at the feet of lady Jane Howard.

When the sports of the day were finished, the seven conquerors, all crowned with laurel, and gorgeously arrayed, were conducted to the gallery where the ladies still remained; and after walking round the room to the sound of triumphal music, they were desired to kneel one by one in the order in which they had entered before, and each to invoke his mistress's pity in his own terms. It fell to the poet's lot to kneel first, who stretched forth his hands toward a certain point in the room, and expressed himself as follows: "O lovely darling of my soul! in whom my every hope is centered; at whose feet I laid my honours down. This laurel wreath I also consecrate to thee. By all the love that I have borne for thee, the pains that I have suffered, I conjure you to raise me up, and say thou wilt be mine:--else here I'll kneel till doomsday!"

A pause ensued; the King and his n.o.bles looked on in breathless curiosity, for they knew not where he had bestowed his favours. The dames also gazed in envious silence, and in hopes that the supplicant would be refused. He soon himself began to dread what they hoped; his countenance changed; the wild l.u.s.tre of his eye faded; and he began to look around to see where he could get a sword on which to fall and kill himself. He cast one other pitiful look to Delany, but she deigned no movement to his relief,--still keeping her seat, though visibly in great agitation. But, at length, when hope was extinct in his bosom, there appeared one to his relief. This was no other than his old rival the gospel friar, who had been admitted in an official capacity, in order to join hands and bless unions if any such chanced to be agreed on. He was standing ruminating behind backs; but seeing the first offer about to be rejected, and aware of the force of example, whether good or bad, and how little chance he had of employment that day if the first effort misgave, he stepped briskly up to Delany, and, taking her hand, said, "Lo, my daughter, have not I travelled for thee in pain, and yearned over thee as a mother yearneth over the son of her youth? Why wilt thou break my heart, and the heart of him that burneth for thy love?" Delany then rose, and with trembling step came toward her lover, led by the grotesque form of the good friar. The tears gushed from the poet's eyes as she lifted the laurel crown from the floor, and replacing it on his head, said, as she raised him up, "Thou hast adventured and overcome. Hence be thou the lord of my heart and affections."

The friar gave them no more time to palaver, but joined their hands, p.r.o.nounced them a married pair, and blessed their union in the name of the Trinity. Then Sir Charles Scott kneeled, and, casting his eyes gravely toward the floor, said only these words: "Will the lady whom I serve take pity on her humble slave, or shall he retire from this presence ashamed and disgraced."

Woman, kind and affectionate woman, is ever more ready to confer an obligation on our s.e.x than accept of one. Lady Jane arose without any hesitation, put the crown on the knight's head, and, with a most winning grace, raised him up, and said, "Gallant knight, thou wert born to conquer my countrymen and me; I yield my hand and with it my heart." The friar lost no time in joining their hands; he judged it best and safest to take women at their first words; and short time was it till the two were p.r.o.nounced husband and wife, "and whom G.o.d hath joined let no man dare to put asunder. Amen!" said the friar, and bestowed on them an earnest blessing.--Isaac the curate expatiates largely on the greatness and goodness of this couple; how they extended their possessions, and were beloved on the Border. Their son, he says, was the famous Sir Robert of Eskdale, the warden of the marches, from whom the families of Thirlstane, Harden, and many other opulent houses are descended. No union could be more happy; and besides, it rendered the Lady Douglas the happiest of women, and Mary Kirkmichael the proudest.

But to return to the scene in the gallery with the knights and their mistresses. The King and his n.o.bles who accompanied the gallants into the apartment of the ladies, knowing nothing of the choices each had made, expected great amus.e.m.e.nt from compliances and non-compliances; and at all events, after so fair a beginning, a number of weddings to be the result. Every one of the successful knights expected the same thing; for it is a curious fact, which shows the duplicity of our character in a striking light, that, when the champions were all in the apartment together in the morning, some mentioned one lady as the flower of the land and of all present, some mentioned another, and so on. But no one ever mentioned the names either of _Delany_ or _Jane Howard_. Sir Charles indeed mentioned no name, but when each had named a pretended favourite with mighty encomiums, he only added, "I'll no say muckle; but there's ane that I rank aboon a' thae."

The master of the ceremonies looked round to call the next champion to kneel; but, behold, he was not there! He called the next again. He was gone also! Every one of the knights had vanished, each thinking _himself_ slighted by the preference given to Sir Charles Scott, but none knowing that for his sake they were all slighted alike. The n.o.blemen were all in the utmost consternation; the King became highly offended, and said "What is the meaning of this? Have these knights dared to desert their colours on the very eve of action? This is not only an affront put upon us, but upon our fair and n.o.ble visitors, of whose honour and feelings we are more jealous than of our own."

But the friar, who was a man of peace, and disliked all sort of offence, when he saw the King was displeased, took speech to himself, and his speech set all the gallery into a burst of laughter. He was standing in the midst of the floor, with his book in hand, ready and eager to officiate still farther as a knitter and binder; but when he saw the knights all fled, and the King offended, he uplifted both of his hands and one of his feet, standing still on the other, and cried with a loud voice, "Behold my occupation is ended! Woe is me for the children of my people! For the spirit of man is departed away, and he hath no strength remaining. Oh what shall I do for the honour of my brethren! For, lo, the virgins are come to the altar, and there is none to accept of the offering. The men of might are dismissed, yea they are confounded and fled away, and the daughters of the land are left to bewail the months and years of their virginity. Woe is me, for my hand findeth nothing more to do!"