The White Lady replied:
'Thy craven fear my truth accused,
Thine idlehood my trust abused;
He that draws to harbour late,
Must sleep without, or burst the gate.
There is a star for thee which burn'd,
Its influence wanes, its course is turn'd;
Valour and constancy alone
Can bring thee back the chance that's flown.'
'If I have been a loiterer, lady,' answered young Glendinning, 'thou shalt now find me willing to press forward with double speed. Other thoughts have filled my mind, other thoughts have engaged my heart, within a brief period—and by Heaven, other occupations shall henceforward fill up my time. I have lived in this day the space of years—I came hither a boy—I will return a man—a man, such as may converse not only with his own kind, but with whatever God permits to be visible to him. I will learn the contents of that mysterious volume; I will learn why the Lady of Avenel loved it, why the priests feared, and would have stolen it; why thou didst twice recover it from their hands. What mystery is wrapped in it? Speak, I conjure thee!' The lady assumed an air peculiarly sad and solemn, as, drooping her head, and folding her arms on her bosom, she replied:
'Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race.
To whom God has granted grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way;
And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.'
'Give me the volume, lady,' said young Glendinning. 'They call me idle—they call me dull; in this pursuit my industry shall not fail, nor, with God's blessing, shall my understanding. Give me the volume.' The apparition again replied:
'Many a fathom dark and deep
I have laid the book to sleep;
Ethereal fires around it glowing—
Ethereal music ever flowing—
