CHAPTER IX. Indifferent, but indifferent-pshaw, he doth it not Old Play. WITH the first grey peep of dawn, Halbert Glendinning arose and hastened to dress himself, girded on his weapon, and took a cross-bow in his hand, as if his usual sport had been his sole object. He groped his way down the dark and winding staircase, and undid, with as little noise as possible, the fastenings of the inner door, and of the exterior iron grate. At length he stood free in the court-yard, and looking up to the tower, saw a signal made with a handkerchief from the window. Nothing doubting that it was his antagonist, he paused expecting him. But it was Mary Avenel, who glided like a spirit from under the low and rugged portal. Halbert was much surprised, and felt, he knew not why, like one caught in the act of a meditated trespass. The presence of Mary Avenel had till that moment never given him pain. She spoke too in a tone where sorrow seemed to mingle with reproach, while she asked him with emphasis, "What he was about to do?" He shewed his cross-bow, and was about to express the pretext he had meditated, when Mary interrupted him." "Not so, Halbert-that evasion were unworthy of one whose word has hitherto been truth. You meditate not the destruction of the deer-your hand and your heart are aimed at other game-you seek to do battle with this stranger." "And wherefore should I quarrel with our guest?" answered Halbert, blushing deeply. "There are, indeed, many reasons why you should not," replied the maiden, "nor is there one of avail wherefore you should-yet, nevertheless, such a quarrel you are now searching after." "Why should you suppose so, Mary?" said Halbert, endeavouring to hide his conscious purpose"he is my mother's guest-he is protected by the Abbot and the community, who are our mastershe is of high degree also, and wherefore should you think that I can, or dare, resent a hasty word, which he has perchance thrown out against me more from the wantonness of his wit, than the purpose of his heart?" "Alas!" answered the maiden, "the very asking that question puts your resolution beyond a doubt. Since your childhood you were ever daring, seeking danger rather than avoiding it—delighting in whatever had the air of adventure and of courage; and it is not from fear that you will now blench from your purpose-O let it then be from pity!-from pity, Halbert, to your aged mother, whom your death or victory will alike deprive of the comfort and stay of her age." "She has my brother Edward," said Halbert, turning suddenly from her. "She has indeed," said Mary Avenel," the calm, the noble-minded, the considerate Edward, who has thy courage, Halbert, without thy fiery rashness, thy generous spirit, with more of reason to guide it. He would not have heard his mother, 'would not have heard his adopted sister, beseech him in vain not to ruin himself, and tear up their future hopes of happiness and protection." Halbert's heart swelled as he replied to this reproach. "Well-what avails it speaking?—you have him that is better than me-wiser, more considerate,―braver for aught that I know-you are provided with a protector, and need care no more for me." Again he turned to depart, but Mary Avenel laid her hand on his arm so gently that he scarce felt her hold, yet felt that it was impossible for him to strike it off. to leave the court-yard, but so little determined on departure, that he resembled a traveller arrested by the spell of a magician, and unable either to quit the attitude of motion, or to proceed on his There he stood, one foot advanced course. Mary Avenel availed herself of his state of suspense. "Hear me," she said, "hear me, Halbert—I am an orphan, and even Heaven hears the orphan-I have been the companion of your infancy, and if you will not hear me for an instant, from whom may Mary Avenel claim so poor a boon !" "I hear you," said Halbert Glendinning, "but be brief, dear Mary-you mistake the nature of my business-it is but a morning of summer sport which we propose." 66 Say not thus," said the maiden, interrupting him, " say not thus to me-others thou may'st deceive, but me thou canst not-There has been that in me from the earliest youth, which fraud flies from, and which imposture cannot deceive. For what fate has given me such a power I know not; but, bred an ignorant maiden in this sequestered valley, mine eyes can too often see what man would most willingly hide-I can judge of the dark purpose, though it is hid under the smiling brow, and a glance of the eye says more to me than oaths and protestations do to others," "Then," said Halbert, "if thou canst so read the human heart,-say, dear Mary-what doest thou see in mine?-tell me that-say what thou seest-what thou readest in this bosom, does not offend thee-say but that, and thou shalt be the guide of my actions, and mould me now and henceforward to honour or to dishonour at thy own free will." Mary Avenel became first red, and then deadly pale, as Halbert Glendinning spoke. But when, turning round at the close of his address, he took her hand, she gently withdrew it, and replied, "I cannot read the heart, Halbert, and I would not of my will know aught of yours, save what beseems us both-I only can judge of signs, words, and actions of little outward import, more truly than those around me, as my eyes, thou knowest, have seen objects not presented to those of others." ! "Let them gaze then on one whom they shall never see more," said Halbert, once more turning from her, and rushing out of the court-yard without again looking back. Mary Avenel gave a faint scream, and clasped both her hands firmly on her forehead and eyes. She had been a minute in this attitude, when she was thus greeted by a voice from behind: “Generously done, my most clement Discretion, to hide those brilliant eyes from the far inferior beams which even now begin to gild the eastern horizon. -Certes, peril there were that Phoebus, outshone in VOL. IL Η |