"In truth, I was afraid to trust myself," he said to Oswald, as they
lay down side by side. "Never have I felt so free, since
Otterburn--never, indeed, since that unfortunate day when I was
wounded, and conceived the fatal idea of becoming a monk. Two or three
times, the impulse to troll out a trooper's song was so strong in me,
that I had to clap my hand over my mouth, to keep it in."
"'Tis well you did, Roger, for assuredly if you had so committed
yourself, on the first day of starting, I must have sent you back to
Alnwick, feeling that it would not be safe for you to proceed with me
farther. When we get upon the Cheviots, tomorrow, you may lift your
voice as you choose; but it were best that you confined yourself to a
Latin canticle, even there, for the habit of breaking into songs of the
other kind might grow upon you."
"I will do so," Roger said, seriously. "Some of the canticles have
plenty of ring and go, and the words matter not, seeing that I do not
understand them."
The next morning they resumed their journey, crossed the Cheviots,
which were here comparatively low hills; and, after four hours' riding,
arrived at Roxburgh.
"Why do we come here?" Roger asked.
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