Blair Collection > Celtic magazine > Volume 5

DERMOID. 177
the ministrations of the merry friar were welcomed more heartUy than
those of his more ascetic brethren. The chapel was of an ordinary, rude
construction, being totally deficient in ornament of any kind, but the
relics which were sheltered within its hallowed walls, and the virtues of
the holy fountain which trickled from the rocks rising immediately be-
hind the buUdtng, attracted pilgrims from aU quarters. The shrine was
devoted to the celebrated St Fillan, who had died in the vicinity about
the middle of the eighth century, and the luminous arm which, by the
splendour of its beams, enabled the holy man to transcribe the Scriptures
without the aid of candle-light, was carefully preserved by Father Domi-
nick in a silver casket, and formed part of the decorations of the altar.
On no occasion had the services of the joUy friar been so much in
request as when Lorn was about to set out on his expedition against
Robert the Bruce. He arrived at DunoUy on the previous day, for the
purpose of pronouncing a benediction and praying for the success of the
enterprise. There was one, however, who seemed more in need of his
holy services than all the bands of Highlanders combined, and Domini ck was
no time within the precincts of the castle waUs when he received a summons
from the fair Bertha, calling upon him for consultation and advice on a
matter of immediate interest. Ascending to the small turret-chamber in
the western wing of the building, he found her impatiently awaiting his
arrival. Kate, her bower-maiden, a pretty, gossiping wench, had just
completed the dressing of her mistress's long, silken locks, and taken her
needlework in hand when Father Dominick entered. He had the shaven
crown of his order, but his feet were enclosed in leathern sandals, being
a grade more luxurious than the strict Franciscans who went bare-foot.
He was dressed in the usual woollen frock with scourge and band attached,
and as he crossed the threshold of the damsel's chamber, a smile of latent
humour could not help mingling with the serious lines of his features.
" Pax Yobiscum !" he said, with his customary salutation.
" Amen !" said Bertha.
" You are well, I hope," said Dominick.
" "Well 1 — yes," with some hesitation.
" Nay, I swear you are iU. Jesu IMaria, how pale and lack-lustre you
look. My fair dame, I'll warrant the gallant has jilted you, and in your
grief you wish to become a daughter of the Church."
" Nay," interposed Bertha.
But the good friar was not to be outdone when an idea struck him.
"The objects of our earthly desires," he continued, " are as evanescent
as the mirage of the barren desert, the offspring of a heated fancy, or the
delusions of the devU. Happy are they whose thoughts turn Heaven-
ward — from the corruptible to the incorruptible, from the temporal to the
eternal *
" Nay, good father," said Bertha, interrupting him, " you misconstrue
me entirely."
" Heaven forbid that I should be so uncharitable."
" You know my father, Sir David."
" My blessing on him. I do, sweet maid."
" I am anxious for his safety. He has got entangled in this rebellion,
and Sir Guilbert informs me he has joined the ranks of the sacrilegious
heretic."