"Roland Graeme," he said, repeating the words after the hesitating page. "What! of the Grahams of the Lennox?"
"No, my lord," replied Roland; "my parents dwelt in the Debateable Land."
Murray made no further inquiry, but proceeded to read his dispatches; during the perusal of which his brow began to assume a stern expression of displeasure, as that of one who found something which at once surprised and disturbed him. He sat down on the nearest seat, frowned till his eyebrows almost met together, read the letter twice over, and was then silent for several minutes. At length, raising his head, his eye encountered that of the usher, who in vain endeavoured to exchange the look of eager and curious observation with which he had been perusing the Regent's features, for that open and unnoticing expression of countenance, which, in looking at all, seems as if it saw and marked nothing--a cast of look which may be practised with advantage by all those, of whatever degree, who are admitted to witness the familiar and unguarded hours of their superiors. Great men are as jealous of their thoughts as the wife of King Candaules was of her charms, and will as readily punish those who have, however involuntarily, beheld them in mental deshabille and exposure.
"Leave the apartment, Hyndman," said the Regent, sternly, "and carry your observation elsewhere. You are too knowing, sir, for your post, which, by special order, is destined for men of blunter capacity. So! now you look more like a fool than you did,"--(for Hyndman, as may easily be supposed, was not a little disconcerted by this rebuke)--"keep that confused stare, and it may keep your office. Begone, sir!"
The usher departed in dismay, not forgetting to register, amongst his other causes of dislike to Roland Graeme, that he had been the witness of this disgraceful chiding. When he had left the apartment, the Regent again addressed the page.
"Your name, you say, is Armstrong?"
"No," replied Roland, "my name is Graeme, so please you--Roland Graeme, whose forbears were designated of Heathergill, in the Debateable Land."
"Ay, I knew it was a name from the Debateable Land. Hast thou any acquaintance in Edinburgh?"
"My lord," replied Roland, willing rather to evade this question than to answer it directly, for the prudence of being silent with respect to Lord Seyton's adventure immediately struck him, "I have been in Edinburgh scarce an hour, and that for the first time in my life."
"What! and thou Sir Halbert Glendinning's page?" said the Regent.
"I was brought up as my Lady's page," said the youth, "and left Avenel Castle for the first time in my life--at least since my childhood--only three days since."
"My Lady's page!" repeated the Earl of Murray, as if speaking to himself; "it was strange to send his Lady's page on a matter of such deep concernment--Morton will say it is of a piece with the nomination of his brother to be Abbot; and yet in some sort an inexperienced youth will best serve the turn.--What hast thou been taught, young man, in thy doughty apprenticeship?"
"To hunt, my lord, and to hawk," said Roland Graeme.
"To hunt coneys, and to hawk at ouzels!" said the Regent, smiling; "for such are the sports of ladies and their followers."
Graeme's cheek reddened deeply as he replied, not without some emphasis, "To hunt red-deer of the first head, and to strike down herons of the highest soar, my lord, which, in Lothian speech, may be termed, for aught I know, coneys and ouzels;-also I can wield a brand and couch a lance, according to our Border meaning; in inland speech these may be termed water-flags and bulrushes."
"Thy speech rings like metal," said the Regent, "and I pardon the sharpness of it for the truth.--Thou knowest, then, what belongs to the duty of a man-at-arms?"
"So far as exercise can teach--it without real service in the field," answered Roland Graeme; "but our Knight permitted none of his household to make raids, and I never had the good fortune to see a stricken field."
"The good fortune!" repeated the Regent, smiling somewhat sorrowfully, "take my word, young man, war is the only game from which both parties rise losers."
"Not always, my lord!" answered the page, with his characteristic audacity, "if fame speaks truth."
"How, sir?" said the Regent, colouring in his turn, and perhaps suspecting an indiscreet allusion to the height which he himself had attained by the hap of civil war.
"Because, my lord," said Roland Graeme, without change of tone, "he who fights well, must have fame in life, or honour in death; and so war is a game from which no one can rise a loser."
The Regent smiled and shook his head, when at that moment the door opened, and the Earl of Morton presented himself.
"I come somewhat hastily," he said, "and I enter unannounced because my news are of weight--It is as I said; Edward Glendinning is named Abbot, and--"
"Hush, my lord!" said the Regent, "I know it, but--"
"And perhaps you knew it before I did, my Lord of Murray," answered Morton, his dark red brow growing darker and redder as he spoke.
"Morton," said Murray, "suspect me not--touch not mine honour--I have to suffer enough from the calumnies of foes, let me not have to contend with the unjust suspicions of my friends.--We are not alone," said he, recollecting himself, "or I could tell you more."
He led Morton into one of the deep embrasures which the windows formed in the massive wall, and which afforded a retiring place for their conversing apart. In this recess, Roland observed them speak together with much earnestness, Murray appearing to be grave and earnest, and Morton having a jealous and offended air, which seemed gradually to give way to the assurances of the Regent.
As their conversation grew more earnest, they became gradually louder in speech, having perhaps forgotten the presence of the page, the more readily as his position in the apartment placed him put of sight, so that he found himself unwillingly privy to more of their discourse than he cared to hear. For, page though he was, a mean curiosity after the secrets of others had never been numbered amongst Roland's failings; and moreover, with all his natural rashness, he could not but doubt the safety of becoming privy to the secret discourse of these powerful and dreaded men. Still he could neither stop his ears, nor with propriety leave the apartment; and while he thought of some means of signifying his presence, he had already heard so much, that, to have produced himself suddenly would have been as awkward, and perhaps as dangerous, as in quiet to abide the end of their conference. What he overheard, however, was but an imperfect part of their communication; and although an expert politician, acquainted with the circumstances of the times, would have had little difficulty in tracing the meaning, yet Roland Graeme could only form very general and vague conjectures as to the import of their discourse.