Gibbie remarked that he himself had "killed one very like him, only he was sure his wad never mount horse again." But seeing Tam's ill-set eye fixed on him, he was afraid of something coming out relating to that encounter which he did not wish to hear blabbed; so he changed his tone, and, looking wise, said, "The hale business brings me a-mind of a very good story that happened aince at Allergrain; an' if it be nae true it is behadden to the maker, for the sin o' the lie lyes nae at my door. The story, you see, is this.—There was a man, an' he had a wife; an' they had a son, an' they ca'ed him Jock—"
"Now, d—n your particularity!" said Tam Craik: "think you we have nought else to do but stand beside the bloody man and listen to a long-winded tale like that?"
The poet muttered over some old rhyme in unison with what he heard. If one word spoken chanced to occur in any old rhyme or song that he knew, he went over the sentence to himself, though it had no farther connection with it, or resemblance to it, than merely that word. This made his conversation altogether incomprehensible to those not acquainted with him, but it was always delightful to himself; a chance old rhyme brought to his remembrance, would have pleased him almost in any circumstances, while his words chimed naturally into measure.
Leaving the dead warrior at the house where they lodged for the people to bury as they liked, they proceeded to the army, in hopes of finding Charlie and the friar there; for without them they did not know how to accomplish their mission. These two heroes finding, on asking at a hamlet, that their friends had not passed on the road to Roxburgh, suspected what way they had gone, and turning to the south-east they followed them on the track to Yetholm, but misled them at the house into which they had been chased by the dead man, and rode searching for them the greater part of the night. Next morning they again went in search of them, and came up behind them at the convent of Maisondieu near to the Teviot, where a detachment of the army was stationed; and, after conversing two or three hours on the state of the army and garrison, they proceeded on their journey, and reached the abbey of Melrose that night. There they were welcomed by the brethren, and lodged comfortably. There also they got many strange stories told to them about Master Michael Scott, which made the very hairs of their heads stand on end, and the hearts of the boldest to palpitate. When the friar heard them, he seemed wrapt in deep thought; and he opened his mouth, and said: "If the things that thou hast spoken be according to the light that is in thee, and the truth that is told among men, then this man is not as other men, for the spirit of the immortals is in him, and he communeth with the prince of the power of the air. Nevertheless, I will go unto him, and I will speak to him face to face, as a man speaketh to his friend. Peradventure I shall tell him that which he knoweth not."
When it was told to the abbot Lawrence, that the servants of the warden were come, and that they were accompanied by his chaplain and bedesman, a learned man in all holy things, the father came to bestow upon them his benediction,—for the baron of Mountcomyn had conferred many rich benefices on the abbey. At the first sound of the friar's voice, the abbot started, as if recollecting him; but on looking at the man his hope seemed to die away. Every time, however, that he spoke in his eastern style, the abbot fixed a look on him, as if he would fain have claimed acquaintance, which the friar perceiving, urged their departure with all the interest he had; and accordingly, about mid-day, they set out for Aikwood-castle, the seat of the renowned magician Master Michael Scott.
Ever since the stern encounter with the English moss-troopers on the Thief-road, Charlie had attached himself close to the friar, imagining that he saw his character in a new light, and that he was one who might either be roused to desperate courage, or impressed with notorious dread; and when he heard him say that he would speak to the enchanter face to face, he admired him still the more; for the business of addressing the Master was that which stuck sorest on the stomach of the doughty Yardbire. As for the poet, he scarcely seemed himself all that day. He looked at the mountains, and the wild romantic rivers branching among them in every direction, with looks of which it was hard to say whether they were looks of vacancy or affection, for he looked sometimes as at objects which he was never to see again. His tongue muttered long rhymes in which his heart had little share; so that Delany was obliged to detach herself from his society, and make up to the friar, whom she now addressed with much affection, and some degree of coquetry:—
"Dearest father, why have you neglected me so much on our journey? Ever since our first stage was got over, you have not deigned to take any notice of me. What have you seen in my conduct that you have thus shunned me? It is in sincerity that I assure you there is no man in whose conversation I so much delight."
"Fairest among maidens!" said the friar, putting his arm gently around her neck, as her palfrey came close up by his side, "say not so, but come near me, I will kiss thee with the kisses of my mouth, for thy love is sweeter to me than the vintage. Behold thou art even like a tower of alabaster shining from among the cedars of Lebanon. Thy bosom resembleth two young roes that are twins, and feed among the lilies of the valley."
"Hold, dear father!" said she, "and do not let your gallantry run away with your good common sense. Yet would I love to hear that language spoken to another, for though it be nonsense it is still beautiful. Tell me, for I long to hear, where, or in what country, you learned to speak in that stile."
"Daughter of my people," said he, "I have learned that language at home and in a far country. In youth and in age hath it been my delight. At noon-tide when the sun shone in his strength, and in the silent watches of the night hath it been my meditation. In adversity hath it been my comfort, and in prosperity my joy; so that now it hath become unto me as my mother tongue, and other language have I none."