The following day, Marmion and the brave Douglas journeyed to fair Tantallon. The Palmer still was with the band, as Angus commanded that no one should roam at large. A wondrous change had come to the holy Palmer. He freely spoke of war; he looked so high, and rode so fast, that old Hubert said he never saw but one who could sit so proud, and rein so well.
A half hour's march behind, came Fitz-Eustace, escorting the Abbess, the fair Lady Clare, and all the nuns.
Marmion had sought no audience, fearing to increase Clara's hatred. He preferred to wait until she was removed from the convent and in her uncle's care. He hoped then, with the influence of her kinsman and her King, to gain her consent to be the Lady Marmion. He longed to command,
"O'er luckless Clara's ample land,"
yet he hated himself when he thought of the meanness to which he stooped for conquest, when he remembered his own lost honor; for,
"If e'er he lov'd, 'twas her alone,
Who died within that vault of stone."
Near Berwick town they came upon a venerable convent pile, and halted at its gate. In answer to the bell, a door opened, and an aged dame appeared to ask St. Hilda's Abbess to rest here with her nuns until a barque was provided to bear her back to Whitby.
The courtesy of the Scottish Prioress was most joyfully received, and the delighted maidens gladly left their palfreys; but when Lady Clara attempted to dismount, Fitz-Eustace gently refused, saying:
"I grieve, fair lady, to separate you from your friends. Think it no
discourtesy of mine, but lords' commands must be obeyed, and Marmion and
Douglas order that you shall return directly to your kinsman,
Lord Fitz-Clare."
The startled Abbess loud exclaimed, but Clara was speechless and deadly pale.