by Walter Scott
Chapter the Twenty-Ninth.
-------------Sure he cannot Be so unmanly as to leave me here; If he do, maids will not so easily Trust men again. THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN.
The knight continued to keep the good horse at a pace as quick as theroad permitted, until they had cleared the valley of Glendearg, andentered upon the broad dale of the Tweed, which now rolled beforethem in crystal beauty, displaying on its opposite bank the huge grayMonastery of St. Mary's, whose towers and pinnacles were scarce yettouched by the newly-risen sun, so deeply the edifice lies shroudedunder the mountains which rise to the southward.
Turning to the left, the knight continued his road down to the northernbank of the river, until they arrived nearly opposite to the weir,or dam-dike, where Father Philip concluded his extraordinary aquaticexcursion.
Sir Piercie Shafton, whose brain seldom admitted more than one idea ata time, had hitherto pushed forward without very distinctly consideringwhere he was going. But the sight of the Monastery so near to him,reminded, him that he was still on dangerous ground, and that he mustnecessarily provide for his safety by choosing some settled plan ofescape. The situation of his guide and deliverer also occurred to him,for he was far from being either selfish or ungrateful. He listened, anddiscovered that the Miller's daughter was sobbing and weeping bitterlyas she rested her head on his shoulder.
"What ails thee," he said, "my generous Molinara?--is there aught thatPiercie Shafton can do which may show his gratitude to his deliverer?"Mysie pointed with her finger across the river, but ventured not toturn her eyes in that direction. "Nay, but speak plain, most generousdamsel," said the knight, who, for once, was puzzled as much as his ownelegance of speech was wont to puzzle others, "for I swear to you that Icomprehend nought by the extension of thy fair digit."
"Yonder is my father's house," said Mysie, in a voice interrupted by theincreased burst of her sorrow.
"And I was carrying thee discourteously to a distance from thyhabitation?" said Shafton, imagining he had found out the source of hergrief. "Wo worth the hour that Piercie Shafton, in attention to his ownsafety, neglected the accommodation of any female, far less of his mostbeneficent liberatrice! Dismount, then, O lovely Molinara, unless thouwouldst rather that I should transport thee on horseback to the house ofthy molendinary father, which, if thou sayest the word, I am prompt todo, defying all dangers which may arise to me personally, whether bymonk or miller."
Mysie suppressed her sobs, and with considerable difficulty muttered herdesire to alight, and take her fortune by herself. Sir Piercie Shafton,too devoted a squire of dames to consider the most lowly as exemptedfrom a respectful attention, independent of the claims which theMiller's maiden possessed over him, dismounted instantly from his horse,and received in his arms the poor girl, who still wept bitterly, and,when placed on the ground, seemed scarce able to support herself, or atleast still clung, though, as it appeared, unconsciously, to the supporthe had afforded. He carried her to a weeping birch tree, which grew onthe green-sward bank around which the road winded, and, placing her onthe ground beneath it, exhorted her to compose herself. A strong touchof natural feeling struggled with, and half overcame, his acquiredaffectation, while he said, "Credit me, most generous damsel, theservice you have done to Piercie Shafton he would have deemed too dearlybought, had he foreseen it was to cost you these tears and singults.Show me the cause of your grief, and if I can do aught to removeit, believe that the rights you have acquired over me will make yourcommands sacred as those of an empress. Speak, then, fair Molinara,and command him whom fortune hath rendered at once your debtor and yourchampion. What are your orders?"
"Only that you will fly and save yourself," said Mysie, mustering up herutmost efforts to utter these few words.
"Yet," said the knight, "let me not leave you without some token ofremembrance." Mysie would have said there needed none, and most trulywould she have spoken, could she have spoken for weeping. "PiercieShafton is poor," he continued, "but let this chain testify he is notungrateful to his deliverer."
He took from his neck the rich chain and medallion we have formerlymentioned, and put it into the powerless hand of the poor maiden,who neither received nor rejected it, but, occupied with more intensefeelings, seemed scarce aware of what he was doing.
"We shall meet again," said Sir Piercie Shafton, "at least I trust so;meanwhile, weep no more, fair Molinara, an thou lovest me."
The phrase of conjuration was but used as an ordinary commonplaceexpression of the time, but bore a deeper sense to poor Mysie's ear.She dried her tears; and when the knight, in all kind and chivalrouscourtesy, stooped to embrace her at their parting, she rose humbly up toreceive the proffered honour in a posture of more deference, and meeklyand gratefully accepted the offered salute. Sir Piercie Shafton mountedhis horse, and began to ride off, but curiosity, or perhaps a strongerfeeling, soon induced him to look back, when he beheld the Miller'sdaughter standing still motionless on the spot where they had parted,her eyes turned after him, and the unheeded chain hanging from her hand.
It was at this moment that a glimpse of the real state of Mysie'saffections, and of the motive from which she had acted in the wholematter, glanced on Sir Piercie Shafton's mind. The gallants of that age,disinterested, aspiring, and lofty-minded, even in their coxcombry, werestrangers to those degrading and mischievous pursuits which are usuallytermed low amours. They did not "chase the humble maidens of the plain,"or degrade their own rank, to deprive rural innocence of peace andvirtue. It followed, of course, that as conquests in this class were nopart of their ambition, they were in most cases totally overlooked andunsuspected, left unimproved, as a modern would call it, where, ason the present occasion, they were casually made. The companion ofAstrophel, and flower of the tilt-yard of Feliciana, had no more ideathat his graces and good parts could attach the love of Mysie Happer,than a first-rate beauty in the boxes dreams of the fatal wound whichher charms may inflict on some attorney's romantic apprentice in thepit. I suppose, in any ordinary case, the pride of rank and distinctionwould have pronounced on the humble admirer the doom which Beau Fieldingdenounced against the whole female world, "Let them look and die;" butthe obligations under which he lay to the enamoured maiden, miller'sdaughter as she was, precluded the possibility of Sir Piercie's treatingthe matter _en cavalier_, and, much embarrassed, yet a little flatteredat the same time, he rode back to try what could be done for thedamsel's relief.
The innate modesty of poor Mysie could not prevent her showing tooobvious signs of joy at Sir Piercie Shafton's return. She was betrayedby the sparkle of the rekindling eye, and a caress which, howevertimidly bestowed, she could not help giving to the neck of the horsewhich brought back the beloved rider.
"What farther can I do for you, kind Molinara?" said Sir PiercieShafton, himself hesitating and blushing; for, to the grace of QueenBess's age be it spoken, her courtiers wore more iron on their breaststhan brass on their foreheads, and even amid their vanities preservedstill the decaying spirit of chivalry, which inspired of yore the verygentle Knight of Chaucer,
Who in his port was modest as a maid.
Mysie blushed deeply, with her eyes fixed on the ground, and Sir Piercieproceeded in the same tone of embarrassed kindness. "Are you afraid toreturn home alone, my kind Molinara?--would you that I should accompanyyou?"
"Alas!" said Mysie, looking up, and her cheek changing from scarlet topale, "I have no home left."
"How! no home!" said Shafton; "says my generous Molinara she hath nohome, when yonder stands the house of her father, and but a crystalstream between?"
"Alas!" answered the Miller's maiden, "I have no longer either home orfather. He is a devoted servant to the Abbey--I have offended the Abbot,and if I return home my father will kill me."
"He dare not injure thee, by Heaven!" said Sir Piercie; "I swear tothee, by my honour and knighthood, that the forces of my cousin ofNorthumberland shall lay the Monastery so flat, that a horse shall notstumble as he
rides over it, if they should dare to injure a hair ofyour head! Therefore be hopeful and content, kind Mysinda, and know youhave obliged one who can and will avenge the slightest wrong offered toyou."
He sprung from his horse as he spoke, and, in the animation of hisargument, grasped the willing hand of Mysie, (or Mysinda as he had nowchristened her.) He gazed too upon full black eyes, fixed upon his ownwith an expression which, however subdued by maidenly shame, it wasimpossible to mistake, on cheeks where something like hope began torestore the natural colour, and on two lips which, like double rosebuds,were kept a little apart by expectation, and showed within a line ofteeth as white as pearl. All this was dangerous to look upon, and Sir.Piercie Shafton, after repeating with less and less force his requestthat the fair Mysinda would allow him to carry her to her father's,ended by asking the fair Mysinda to go along with him--"At least," headded, "until I shall be able to conduct you to a place of safety."
Mysie Happer made no answer; but blushing scarlet betwixt joy and shame,mutely expressed her willingness to accompany the Southron Knight,by knitting her bundle closer, and preparing to resume her seat _encroupe_. "And what is your pleasure that I should do with this?" shesaid, holding up the chain as if she had been for the first time awarethat it was in her hand.
"Keep it, fairest Mysinda, for my sake," said the Knight.
"Not so, sir," answered Mysie, gravely; "the maidens of my country takeno such gifts from their superiors, and I need no token to remind me ofthis morning."
Most earnestly and courteously did the Knight urge her acceptance ofthe proposed guerdon, but on this point Mysie was resolute; feeling,perhaps, that to accept of any thing bearing the appearance of reward,would be to place the service she had rendered him on a mercenaryfooting. In short, she would only agree to conceal the chain, lest itmight prove the means of detecting the owner, until Sir Piercie shouldbe placed in perfect safety.
They mounted and resumed their journey, of which Mysie, as bold andsharp-witted in some points as she was simple and susceptible in others,now took in some degree the direction, having only inquired its generaldestination, and learned that Sir Piercie Shafton desired to go toEdinburgh, where he hoped to find friends and protection. Possessed ofthis information, Mysie availed herself of her local knowledge to get assoon as possible out of the bounds of the Halidome, and into those of atemporal baron, supposed to be addicted to the reformed doctrines,and upon whose limits, at least, she thought their pursuers would notattempt to hazard any violence. She was not indeed very apprehensive ofa pursuit, reckoning with some confidence that the inhabitants of theTower of Glendearg would find it a matter of difficulty to surmountthe obstacles arising from their own bolts and bars, with which she hadcarefully secured them before setting forth on the retreat.
They journeyed on, therefore, in tolerable security, and Sir PiercieShafton found leisure to amuse the time in high-flown speeches and longanecdotes of the court of Feliciana, to which Mysie bent an ear not awhit less attentive, that she did not understand one word out of threewhich was uttered by her fellow-traveller. She listened, however, andadmired upon trust, as many a wise man has been contented to treat theconversation of a handsome but silly mistress. As for Sir Piercie,he was in his element; and, well assured of the interest and fullapprobation of his auditor, he went on spouting Euphuism of more thanusual obscurity, and at more than usual length. Thus passed the morning,and noon brought them within sight of a winding stream, on the side ofwhich arose an ancient baronial castle, surrounded by some large trees.At a small distance from the gate of the mansion, extended, as in thosedays was usual, a straggling hamlet, having a church in the centre.
"There are two hostelries in this Kirk-town," said Mysie, "but the worstis best for our purpose; for it stands apart from the other houses, andI ken the man weel, for he has dealt with my father for malt."
This _causa scientiae_, to use a lawyer's phrase, was ill chosenfor Mysie's purpose; for Sir Piercie Shafton had, by dint of his ownloquacity, been talking himself all this while into a high esteem forhis fellow-traveller, and, pleased with the gracious reception which sheafforded to his powers of conversation, had well-nigh forgotten thatshe was not herself one of those high-born beauties of whom he wasrecounting so many stories, when this unlucky speech at once placedthe most disadvantageous circumstances attending her lineage under hisimmediate recollection. He said nothing, however. What indeed couldhe say? Nothing was so natural as that a miller's daughter should beacquainted with publicans who dealt with her father for malt, and allthat was to be wondered at was the concurrence of events which hadrendered such a female the companion and guide of Sir Piercie Shafton ofWilverton, kinsman of the great Earl of Northumberland, whom princesand sovereigns themselves termed cousin, because of the Piercie blood.[Footnote: Froissart tells us somewhere, (the readers of romances areindifferent to accurate reference,) that the King of France called oneof the Piercies cousin, because of the blood of Northumberland.] He feltthe disgrace of strolling through the country with a miller's maidenon the crupper behind him, and was even ungrateful enough to feel someemotions of shame, when he halted his horse at the door of the littleinn.
But the alert intelligence of Mysie Happer spared him farther sense ofderogation, by instantly springing from his horse, and cramming the earsof mine host, who came out with his mouth agape to receive a guest ofthe knight's appearance, with an imagined tale, in which circumstance oncircumstance were huddled so fast, as to astonish Sir Piercie Shafton,whose own invention was none of the most brilliant. She explained tothe publican that this was a great English knight travelling from theMonastery to the court of Scotland, after having paid his vows to SaintMary, and that she had been directed to conduct him so far on the road;and that Ball, her palfrey, had fallen by the way, because he had beenover-wrought with carrying home the last melder of meal to the portionerof Langhope; and that she had turned in Ball to graze in the Tasker'spark, near Cripplecross, for he had stood as still as Lot's wife withvery weariness; and that the knight had courteously insisted she shouldride behind him, and that she had brought him to her kend friend'shostelry rather than to proud Peter Peddie's, who got his malt atthe Mellerstane mills; and that he must get the best that the houseafforded, and that he must get it ready in a moment of time, and thatshe was ready to help in the kitchen.
All this ran glibly off the tongue without pause on the part ofMysie Happer, or doubt on that of the landlord. The guest's horse wasconducted to the stable, and he himself installed in the cleanestcorner and best seat which the place afforded. Mysie, ever active andofficious, was at once engaged in preparing food, in spreading thetable, and in making all the better arrangements which her experiencecould suggest, for the honour and comfort of her companion. He wouldfain have resisted this; for while it was impossible not to be gratifiedwith the eager and alert kindness which was so active in his service,he felt an undefinable pain in seeing Mysinda engaged in these menialservices, and discharging them, moreover, as one to whom they werebut too familiar. Yet this jarring feeling was mixed with, and perhapsbalanced by, the extreme grace with which the neat-handed maidenexecuted these tasks, however mean in themselves, and gave to thewretched corner of a miserable inn of the period, the air of a bower,in which an enamoured fairy, or at least a shepherdess of Arcadia, wasdisplaying, with unavailing solicitude, her designs on the heart ofsome knight, destined by fortune to higher thoughts, and a more splendidunion.
The lightness and grace with which Mysie covered the little round tablewith a snow-white cloth, and arranged upon it the hastily-roasted capon,with its accompanying stoup of Bourdeaux, were but plebeian graces inthemselves; but yet there were very flattering ideas excited by eachglance. She was so very well made, agile at once and graceful, with herhand and arm as white as snow, and her face in which a smile contendedwith a blush, and her eyes which looked ever at Shafton when he lookedelsewhere, and were dropped at once when they encountered his, thatshe was irresistible! In fine, the affectionate delicacy of her w
holedemeanour, joined to the promptitude and boldness she had so latelyevinced, tended to ennoble the services she had rendered, as if some
-----sweet engaging Grace Put on some clothes to come abroad, And took a waiter's place.
But, on the other hand, came the damning reflection, that these dutieswere not taught her by Love, to serve the beloved only, but arose fromthe ordinary and natural habits of a miller's daughter, accustomed,doubtless, to render the same service to every wealthier churl whofrequented her father's mill. This stopped the mouth of vanity, and ofthe love which vanity had been hatching, as effectually as a peck ofliteral flour would have done.
Amidst this variety of emotions, Sir Piercie Shafton forgot not to askthe object of them to sit down and partake the good cheer which she hadbeen so anxious to provide and to place in order. He expected thatthis invitation would have been bashfully, perhaps, but certainly mostthankfully, accepted; but he was partly flattered, and partly piqued,by the mixture of deference and resolution with which Mysie declined hisinvitation. Immediately after, she vanished from the apartment, leavingthe Euphuist to consider whether he was most gratified or displeased byher disappearance.
In fact, this was a point on which he would have found it difficultto make up his mind, had there been any necessity for it. As there wasnone, he drank a few cups of claret, and sang (to himself) a stropheor two of the canzonettes of the divine Astrophel. But in spite both ofwine and of Sir Philip Sidney, the connexion in which he now stood,and that which he was in future to hold, with the lovely Molinara, orMysinda, as he had been pleased to denominate Mysie Happer, recurredto his mind. The fashion of the times (as we have already noticed)fortunately coincided with his own natural generosity of disposition,which indeed amounted almost to extravagance, in prohibiting, asa deadly sin, alike against gallantry, chivalry, and morality, hisrewarding the good offices he had received from this poor maiden, byabusing any of the advantages which her confidence in his honour hadafforded. To do Sir Piercie justice, it was an idea which never enteredinto his head; and he would probably have dealt the most scientific_imbroccata, stoccata_, or _punto reverso_, which the school of VincentSaviola had taught him, to any man who had dared to suggest to him suchselfish and ungrateful meanness. On the other hand, he was a man, andforesaw various circumstances which might render their journey togetherin this intimate fashion a scandal and a snare. Moreover, he was acoxcomb and a courtier, and felt there was something ridiculous intravelling the land with a miller's daughter behind his saddle, givingrise to suspicions not very creditable to either, and to ludicrousconstructions, so far as he himself was concerned.
"I would," he said half aloud, "that if such might be done without harmor discredit to the too-ambitious, yet too-well-distinguishing Molinara,she and I were fairly severed, and bound on our different courses; evenas we see the goodly vessel bound for the distant seas hoist sails andbear away into the deep, while the humble fly-boat carries to shorethose friends, who, with wounded hearts and watery eyes, have committedto their higher destinies the more daring adventurers by whom the fairfrigate is manned."
He had scarce uttered the wish when it was gratified; for the hostentered to say that his worshipful knighthood's horse was ready tobe brought forth as he had desired; and on his inquiry for "the--thedamsel--that is--the young woman--"
"Mysie Happer," said the landlord, "has returned to her father's; butshe bade me say, you could not miss the road for Edinburgh, in respectit was neither far way nor foul gate."
It is seldom we are exactly blessed with the precise fulfilment of ourwishes at the moment when we utter them; perhaps, because Heaven wiselywithholds what, if granted, would be often received with ingratitude.So at least it chanced in the present instance; for when mine host saidthat Mysie was returned homeward, the knight was tempted to reply, withan ejaculation of surprise and vexation, and a hasty demand, whither andwhen she had departed? The first emotions his prudence suppressed, thesecond found utterance.
"Where is she gane?" said the host, gazing on him, and repeating hisquestion--"She is gane hame to her father's, it is like--and she gaedjust when she gave orders about your worship's horse, and saw it wellfed, (she might have trusted me, but millers and millers' kin think a'body as thief-like as themselves,) an' she's three miles on the gate bythis time."
"Is she gone then?" muttered Sir Piercie, making two or three hastystrides through the narrow apartment--"Is she gone?--Well, then, lether go. She could have had but disgrace by abiding by me, and I littlecredit by her society. That I should have thought there was suchdifficulty in shaking her off! I warrant she is by this time laughingwith some clown she has encountered; and my rich chain will prove a gooddowry.--And ought it not to prove so? and has she not deserved it, wereit ten times more valuable?--Piercie Shafton! Piercie Shafton! dost thougrudge thy deliverer the guerdon she hath so dearly won? The selfish airof this northern land hath infected thee, Piercie Shafton! and blightedthe blossoms of thy generosity, even as it is said to shrivel theflowers of the mulberry.--Yet I thought," he added, after a moment'spause, "that she would not so easily and voluntarily have parted fromme. But it skills not thinking of it.--Cast my reckoning, mine host, andlet your groom lead forth my nag."
The good host seemed also to have some mental point to discuss, for heanswered not instantly, debating perhaps whether his conscience wouldbear a double charge for the same guests. Apparently his consciencereplied in the negative, though not without hesitation, for he at lengthreplied--"It's daffing to lee; it winna deny that the lawing is cleanpaid. Ne'ertheless, if your worshipful knighthood pleases to give aughtfor increase of trouble--"
"How!" said the knight; "the reckoning paid? and by whom, I pray you?"
"E'en by Mysie Happer, if truth maun be spoken, as I said before,"answered the honest landlord, with as many compunctious visitings fortelling the verity as another might have felt for making a lie in thecircumstances--"And out of the moneys supplied for your honour's journeyby the Abbot, as she tauld to me. And laith were I to surcharge anygentleman that darkens my doors." He added in the confidence of honestywhich his frank avowal entitled him to entertain, "Nevertheless, as Isaid before, if it pleases your knighthood of free good-will to considerextraordinary trouble--"
The knight cut short his argument, by throwing the landlord arose-noble, which probably doubled the value of a Scottish reckoning,though it would have defrayed but a half one at the Three Cranes or theVintry. The bounty so much delighted mine host, that he ran to fill thestirrup-cup (for which no charge was ever made) from a butt yet charierthan that which he had pierced for the former stoup. The knight pacedslowly to horse, partook of his courtesy, and thanked him with the stiffcondescension of the court of Elizabeth; then mounted and followed thenorthern path, which was pointed out as the nearest to Edinburgh, andwhich, though very unlike a modern highway, bore yet so distincta resemblance to a public and frequented road as not to be easilymistaken.
"I shall not need her guidance it seems," said he to himself, as herode slowly onward; "and I suppose that was one reason of her abruptdeparture, so different from what one might have expected.--Well, I amwell rid of her. Do we not pray to be liberated from temptation? Yetthat she should have erred so much in estimation of her own situationand mine, as to think of defraying the reckoning! I would I saw her oncemore, but to explain to her the solecism of which her inexperience hathrendered her guilty. And I fear," he added, as he emerged from somestraggling trees, and looked out upon a wild moorish country, composedof a succession of swelling lumpish hills, "I fear I shall soon want theaid of this Ariadne, who might afford me a clew through the recesses ofyonder mountainous labyrinth."
As the Knight thus communed with himself, his attention was caught bythe sound of a horse's footsteps; and a lad, mounted on a little grayScottish nag, about fourteen hands high, coming along a path whichled from behind the trees, joined him on the high-road, if it could betermed such. The dress of the lad was completely in village fashion, yetneat and han
dsome in appearance. He had a jerkin of gray cloth slashedand trimmed, with black hose of the same, with deer-skin rullions orsandals, and handsome silver spurs. A cloak of a dark mulberry colourwas closely drawn round the upper part of his person, and the cape inpart muffled his face, which was also obscured by his bonnet of blackvelvet cloth, and its little plume of feathers.
Sir Piercie Shafton, fond of society, desirous also to have a guide,and, moreover, prepossessed in favour of so handsome a youth, failed notto ask him whence he came, and whither he was going. The youth lookedanother way, as he answered, that he was going to Edinburgh, "to seekservice in some nobleman's family."
"I fear me you have run away from your last master," said Sir Piercie,"since you dare not look me in the face while you answer my question."
"Indeed, sir, I have not," answered the lad, bashfully, while, as ifwith reluctance, he turned round his face, and instantly withdrew it. Itwas a glance, but the discovery was complete. There was no mistakingthe dark full eye, the cheek in which much embarrassment could notaltogether disguise an expression of comic humour, and the whole figureat once betrayed, under her metamorphosis, the Maid of the Mill. Therecognition was joyful, and Sir Piercie Shafton was too much pleased tohave regained his companion to remember the very good reasons which hadconsoled him for losing her.
To his questions respecting her dress, she answered that she hadobtained it in the Kirktown from a friend; it was the holiday suit of ason of hers, who had taken the field with his liege-lord, the baron ofthe land. She had borrowed the suit under pretence she meant to playin some mumming or rural masquerade. She had left, she said, her ownapparel in exchange, which was better worth ten crowns than this wasworth four.
"And the nag, my ingenious Molinara," said Sir Piercie, "whence comesthe nag?"
"I borrowed him from our host at the Gled's-Nest," she replied; andadded, half stifling a laugh, "he has sent to get, instead of it, ourBall, which I left in the Tasker's Park at Cripplecross. He will belucky if he find it there."
"But then the poor man will lose his horse, most argute Mysinda," saidSir Piercie Shafton, whose English notions of property were a littlestartled at a mode of acquisition more congenial to the ideas of amiller's daughter (and he a Border miller to boot) than with those of anEnglish person of quality.
"And if he does lose his horse," said Mysie, laughing, "surely he is notthe first man on the marches who has had such a mischance. But he willbe no loser, for I warrant he will stop the value out of moneys which hehas owed my father this many a day."
"But then your father will be the loser," objected yet again thepertinacious uprightness of Sir Piercie Shafton.
"What signifies it now to talk of my father?" said the damsel,pettishly; then instantly changing to a tone of deep feeling, she added,"my father has this day lost that which will make him hold light theloss of all the gear he has left."
Struck with the accents of remorseful sorrow in which his companionuttered these few words, the English knight felt himself bound both inhonour and conscience to expostulate with her as strongly as he could,on the risk of the step which she had now taken, and on the propriety ofher returning to her father's house. The matter of his discourse, thoughadorned with many unnecessary flourishes, was honourable both to hishead and heart.
The Maid of the Mill listened to his flowing periods with her head sunkon her bosom as she rode, like one in deep thought or deeper sorrow.When he had finished, she raised up her countenance, looked full onthe knight, and replied with great firmness--"If you are weary of mycompany, Sir Piercie Shafton, you have but to say so, and the Miller'sdaughter will be no farther cumber to you. And do not think I will be aburden to you, if we travel together to Edinburgh; I have wit enough andpride enough to be a willing burden to no man. But if you reject not mycompany at present, and fear not it will be burdensome to you hereafter,speak no more to me of returning back. All that you can say to me I havesaid to myself; and that I am now here, is a sign that I have said it tono purpose. Let this subject, therefore, be forever ended betwixt us.I have already, in some small fashion, been useful to you, and the timemay come I may be more so; for this is not your land of England, wheremen say justice is done with little fear or favour to great and tosmall; but it is a land where men do by the strong hand, and defend bythe ready wit, and I know better than you the perils you are exposedto."
Sir Piercie Shafton was somewhat mortified to find that the damselconceived her presence useful to him as a protectress as well as guide,and said something of seeking protection of nought save his own arm andhis good sword. Mysie answered very quietly, that she nothing doubtedhis bravery; but it was that very quality of bravery which was mostlikely to involve him in danger. Sir Piercie Shafton, whose head neverkept very long in any continued train of thinking, acquiesced withoutmuch reply, resolving in his own mind that the maiden only used thisapology to disguise her real motive, of affection to his person.The romance of the situation flattered his vanity and elevated hisimagination, as placing him in the situation of one of those romanticheroes of whom he had read the histories, where similar transformationsmade a distinguished figure.
He took many a sidelong glance at his page, whose habits of countrysport and country exercise had rendered her quite adequate to sustainthe character she had assumed. She managed the little nag withdexterity, and even with grace; nor did any thing appear that couldhave betrayed her disguise, except when a bashful consciousness of hercompanion's eye being fixed on her, gave her an appearance of temporaryembarrassment, which greatly added to her beauty.
The couple rode forward as in the morning, pleased with themselves andwith each other, until they arrived at the village where they were torepose for the night, and where all the inhabitants of the little inn,both male and female, joined in extolling the good grace and handsomecountenance of the English knight, and the uncommon beauty of hisyouthful attendant.
It was here that Mysie Happer first made Sir Piercie Shafton sensibleof the reserved manner in which she proposed to live with him. Sheannounced him as her master, and, waiting upon him with the reverentdemeanour of an actual domestic, permitted not the least approach tofamiliarity, not even such as the knight might with the utmost innocencehave ventured upon. For example, Sir Piercie, who, as we know, was agreat connoisseur in dress, was detailing to her the advantageous changewhich he proposed to make in her attire as soon as they should reachEdinburgh, by arraying her in his own colours of pink and carnation.Mysie Happer listened with great complacency to the unction with whichhe dilated upon welts, laces, slashes, and trimmings, until, carriedaway by the enthusiasm with which he was asserting the superiority ofthe falling band over the Spanish ruff, he approached his hand, inthe way of illustration, towards the collar of his page's doublet. Sheinstantly stepped back and gravely reminded him that she was alone andunder his protection.
"You cannot but remember the cause which has brought me here," shecontinued; "make the least approach to any familiarity which you wouldnot offer to a princess surrounded by her court, and you have seen thelast of the Miller's daughter--She will vanish as the chaff disappearsfrom the shieling-hill [Footnote: The place where corn was winnowed,while that operation was performed by the hand, was called in Scotlandthe Shieling-hill.] when the west wind blows."
"I do protest, fair Molinara," said Sir Piercie Shafton--but the fairMolinara had disappeared before his protest could be uttered. "A mostsingular wench," said he to himself; "and by this hand, as discreetas she is fair-featured--Certes, shame it were to offer her scatheor dishonour! She makes similes too, though somewhat savouring of hercondition. Had she but read Euphues, and forgotten that accursed milland shieling-hill, it is my thought that her converse would be broideredwith as many and as choice pearls of compliment, as that of the mostrhetorical lady in the court of Feliciana. I trust she means to returnto bear me company."
But that was no part of Mysie's prudential scheme. It was then drawingto dusk, and he saw her not again until the next morning, when
thehorses were brought to the door that they might prosecute their journey.
But our story here necessarily leaves the English knight and his page,to return to the Tower of Glendearg.
