"I would not yield in attachment to my poor god-mother, to
the gravest dame that ever had wise saws upon her tongue, and a
double-starched ruff around her throat--you know I would not, Dame
Mary Fleming, and it is putting shame on me to say otherwise."
"She will challenge the other court lady," thought Roland Graeme; "she
will to a certainty fling down her glove, and if Dame Mary Fleming
hath but the soul to lift it, we may have a combat in the lists!"--but
the answer of Lady Mary Fleming was such as turns away wrath.
"Thou art a good child," she said, "my Catherine, and a faithful; but
Heaven pity him who shall have one day a creature so beautiful to
delight him, and a thing so mischievous to torment him--thou art fit
to drive twenty husbands stark mad."
"Nay," said Catherine, resuming the full career of her careless
good-humour, "he must be half-witted beforehand, that gives me such an
opportunity. But I am glad you are not angry with me in sincerity,"
casting herself as she spoke into the arms of her friend, and
continuing, with a tone of apologetic fondness, while she kissed her
on either side of the face; "you know, my dear Fleming, that I have to
contend with both my father's lofty pride, and with my mother's high
spirit--God bless them! they have left me these good qualities, having
small portion to give besides, as times go--and so I am wilful and
saucy; but let me remain only a week in this castle, and oh, my dear
Fleming, my spirit will be as chastised and humble as thine own.
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