"
"The boy!--thou inhuman man!" exclaimed the lady; "what could he
do to deserve thy malice?"
"He rose in your favour, and you graced him with your commissions--
that was one thing. He rose in that of George Douglas's also--that was
another. He was the favourite of the Calvinistic Henderson, who hated
me because my spirit disowns a separated priesthood. The Moabitish
Queen held him dear--winds from each opposing point blew in his
favour--the old servitor of your house was held lightly among
ye--above all, from the first time I saw his face, I longed to destroy
him."
"What fiend have I nurtured in my house!" replied the Lady. "May
God forgive me the sin of having given thee food and raiment!"
"You might not choose, Lady," answered the steward. "Long ere this
castle was builded--ay, long ere the islet which sustains it reared
its head above the blue water, I was destined to be your faithful
slave, and you to be my ungrateful mistress. Remember you not when I
plunged amid the victorious French, in the time of this lady's mother,
and brought off your husband, when those who had hung at the same
breasts with him dared not attempt the rescue?--Remember how I plunged
into the lake when your grandson's skiff was overtaken by the tempest,
boarded, and steered her safe to the land. Lady--the servant of a
Scottish baron is he who regards not his own life, or that of any
other, save his master. And, for the death of the woman, I had tried
the potion on her sooner, had not Master George been her taster.
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