as usual,
placed aloft in the refectory pulpit, to read aloud to the brethren
during their repast, but no one seemed to think it needful to preserve
the decorous silence that had been rigidly exacted during Prior
Akefield's time, and there was a continual buzz of conversation. Lent
though it was, the fish was of the most esteemed kinds, and it was
evident that, like the monks of Melrose, they 'made gude kale.' Few of
the kindly old faces that Malcolm remembered were to be seen under their
cowls. Prior Drax himself had much more the countenance of a
moss-trooper than of a monk--mayhap he was then meditating that which he
afterwards carried out successfully, _i.e_. the capture and appropriation
of a whole instalment of King James's ransom, on its way across the
Border; and there was a rude recklessness and self-indulgence about the
looks, voices, and manners of the brethren he had brought with him, such
as made Malcolm feel that if he had had his wish, and remained at
Coldingham, he should soon have found it no haven of peace.

The lay-brothers and old servants were fixtures, but the old faithful and
devout ones looked forlorn and unhappy and there had been a great
importation of the ruffianly men-at-arms, whom the more pugnacious
ecclesiastics, as well as nobles, of Scotland, were apt to maintain.
Guards there had been in old times, but kept under strict discipline;
whereas, in the rude conduct of these men, there was no sign that they
knew themselves to be in a religious house. Malcolm, keeping aloof from
these as much as might be, gave such an account of himself as was most
consistent with truth, since it was necessary to account for his
returning so young from his studies. He had, he said, been told that
there was an inheritance fallen due to him, and that the kinsman, in
whose charge his sister had been left, was dead; and he had come home to
seek her out, and inquire into the matter of his heirship.

Rude jokes, from some of the new denizens of the monastery, were spent on
the improbability of his finding sister or lands; if it were in the
Barony of Glenuskie, the House of Albany had taken the administration of
that into their own hands.

'Nay--but,' said Malcolm, 'could I but see my young Lady Lilias, she
might make suit for me.'

The gray-headed lay-brother, to whom he addressed himself, replied that
it was little the Lady Lilias could do, but directed him to St. Abbs to
find her; whereat one of the men-a