"
"But remain still Catharine Seyton, wear what you list," said the
page, endeavouring again to possess himself of her hand.
"You indeed are pleased to call me so," replied the maiden, evading
his intention, "but I have many other names besides."
"And will you not reply to that," said the page, "by which you are
distinguished beyond every other maiden in Scotland?"
The damsel, unallured by his praises, still kept aloof, and sung with
gaiety a verse from an old ballad,
"Oh, some do call me Jack, sweet love,
And some do call me Gill;
But when I ride to Holyrood,
My name is Wilful Will."
"Wilful Will" exclaimed the page, impatiently; "say rather Will o' the
Wisp--Jack with the Lantern--for never was such a deceitful or
wandering meteor!"
"If I be such," replied the maiden, "I ask no fools to follow me--If
they do so, it is at their own pleasure, and must be on their own
proper peril."
"Nay, but, dearest Catherine," said Roland Graeme, "be for one instant
serious."
"If you will call me your dearest Catherine, when I have given you so
many names to choose upon," replied the damsel, "I would ask you how,
supposing me for two or three hours of my life escaped from yonder
tower, you have the cruelty to ask me to be serious during the only
merry moments I have seen perhaps for months?"
"Ay, but, fair Catherine, there are moments of deep and true feeling,
which are worth ten thousand years of the liveliest mirth; and such
was that of yesterday, when you so nearly--"
"So nearly what?" demanded the damsel, hastily.
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