"
"But, my dearest mother," said Roland Graeme, whose early
recollections of her violence were formidably renewed by these wild
expressions of reckless passion, "I will not forsake you--I will abide
with you--worlds shall not force me from your side--I will protect--I
will defend you--I will live with you, and die for you!"
"One word, my son, were worth all these--say only, 'I will obey you.'"
"Doubt it not, mother," replied the youth, "I will, and that with all
my heart; only----"
"Nay, I receive no qualifications of thy promise," said Magdalen
Graeme, catching at the word, "the obedience which I require is
absolute; and a blessing on thee, thou darling memory of my beloved
child, that thou hast power to make a promise so hard to human pride!
Trust me well, that in the design in which thou dost embark, thou hast
for thy partners the mighty and the valiant, the power of the church,
and the pride of the noble. Succeed or fail, live or die, thy name
shall be among those with whom success or failure is alike glorious,
death or life alike desirable. Forward, then, forward! life is short,
and our plan is laborious--Angels, saints, and the whole blessed host
of heaven, have their eyes even now on this barren and blighted land
of Scotland--What say I? on Scotland? their eye is on _us_,
Roland--on the frail woman, on the inexperienced youth, who, amidst
the ruins which sacrilege hath made in the holy place, devote
themselves to God's cause, and that of their lawful Sovereign.
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