Resume your old course--suspect me as
much and watch me as closely as you will, I bid you defiance--you have
met with your match."
"By Heaven, young man," said the steward, with a look of bitter
malignity, "if thou darest to attempt any treachery towards the House
of Lochleven, thy head shall blacken in the sun from the warder's
turret!"
"He cannot commit treachery who refuses trust," said the page; "and
for my head, it stands as securely on my shoulders, as on any turret
that ever mason built."
"Farewell, thou prating and speckled pie," said Dryfesdale, "that art
so vain of thine idle tongue and variegated coat! Beware trap and
lime-twig."
"And fare thee well, thou hoarse old raven," answered the page; "thy
solemn flight, sable hue, and deep croak, are no charms against
bird-bolt or hail-shot, and that thou mayst find--it is open war
betwixt us, each for the cause of our mistress, and God show the
right!"
"Amen, and defend his own people!" said the steward. "I will let my
mistress know what addition thou hast made to this mess of traitors.
Good night, Monsieur Featherpate."
"Good-night, Seignior Sowersby," replied the page; and, when the old
man departed, he betook himself to rest.
Chapter the Thirty-First.
Poison'd--ill fare!--dead, forsook, cast off!--
KING JOHN.
However weary Roland Graeme might be of the Castle of
Lochleven--however much he might wish that the plan for Mary's escape
had been perfected, I question if he ever awoke with more pleasing
feelings than on the morning after George Douglas's plan for
accomplishing her deliverance had been frustrated.
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