You are no longer my Lady's page, and
you will not clothe so fair, or feed so well, or sleep so soft, or
show so gallant--What of all that? if you are not her page, you are
your own man, and may go where you will, without minding whoop or
whistle. The worst is the loss of the sport, but who knows what you
may come to? They say that Sir Halbert himself, I speak with
reverence, was once glad to be the Abbot's forester, and now he has
hounds and hawks of his own, and Adam Woodcock for a falconer to the
boot."
"You are right, and say well, Adam," answered the youth, the blood
mantling in his cheeks, "the falcon will soar higher without his bells
than with them, though the bells be made of silver."
"That is cheerily spoken," replied the falconer; "and whither now?"
"I thought of going to the Abbey of Kennaquhair," answered Roland
Graeme, "to ask the counsel of Father Ambrose."
"And joy go with you," said the falconer, "though it is likely you may
find the old monks in some sorrow; they say the commons are
threatening to turn them out of their cells, and make a devil's mass
of it in the old church, thinking they have forborne that sport too
long; and troth I am clear of the same opinion."
"Then will Father Ambrose be the better of having a friend beside
him!" said the page, manfully.
"Ay, but, my young fearnought," replied the falconer, "the friend will
scarce be the better of being beside Father Ambrose--he may come by
the redder's lick, and that is ever the worst of the battle.
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