Page:Walter Scott - The Monastery (Henry Frowde, 1912).djvu/499

RV 431 (Rh) 'Who dared to say that word?' said the Euphuist, his face crimson with rage.

'Tut! man,' said Bolton, 'make the best of it, thy mother's father was but a tailor, old Overstitch of Holderness. Why, what! because thou art a misproud bird, and despiseth thine own natural lineage, and rüfflest in unpaid silks and velvets, and keepest company with gallants and cutters, must we lose our memory for that? Thy mother, Moll Overstitch, was the prettiest wench in those parts; she was wedded by wild Shafton of Wilverton, who, men say, was akin to the Piercie on the wrong side of the blanket.'

'Help the knight to some strong waters,' said Morton; 'he hath fallen from such a height, that he is stunned with the tumble.'

In fact, Sir Piercie Shafton looked like a man stricken by a thunderbolt, while, notwithstanding the seriousness of the scene hitherto, no one of those present, not even the abbot himself, could refrain from laughing at the rueful and mortified expression of his face.

'Laugh on,' he said at length, 'laugh on, my masters,' shrugging his shoulders; 'it is not for me to be offended; yet would I know full fain from that squire who is laughing with the loudest, how he had discovered this unhappy blot in an otherwise spotless lineage, and for what purpose he hath made it known?'

'I make it known?' said Halbert Glendinning, in astonishment, for to him this pathetic appeal was made; 'I never heard the thing till this moment.'$n$

'Why, did not that old rude soldier learn it from thee?' said the knight, in increasing amazement.

'Not I, by Heaven! ' said Bolton; 'I never saw the youth in my life before.'

'But you have seen him ere now, my worthy master,' said Dame Glendinning, bursting in her turn from the crowd. 'My son, this is Stawarth Bolton, he to whom we owe life and the means of preserving it; if he be a prisoner, as seems most likely, use thine interest with these noble lords to be kind to the widow's friend.'

'What, my Dame of the Glen!' said Bolton, 'thy brow is more withered, as well as mine, since we met last, but thy