\urVsBt US - £n V wdL-j f PEVERIL OF THE PEAK: BY THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEi", iVaNHOE, KENILWORTH, &c, &• ■ h" my readers should at any time remark that T am parti all, they may be assured there is a design under it." British V IN TWO VQLtJMJ TOL. I. NEW-YORK PRINTED BY JAMES fy JOHN HARDER, a5. s. campbell and son, evert dl'vckinck; an-d e. White; collins and hannay, w. b. gillky, c. thi/st i ull1xs and co. j. v seaman,. g. long, k. and r. lock wood u. and tv. and o. bartow, and t. longwouth, savannatt 1823. # 2 PREFATORY LETTER, FROM THE REVEREND DOCTOR DRIASDUST OF YORK. CAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK, RESIDING AT FAIRY-LODGE, NEAR KENNAQUHAIR, N. B. Very worthy axd dear Sir, To 3'our last letter I might have answered, with the clas- sic, " Haud cquideia invideo, miror magis." For though my converse, from infancy, has been with things of antiquity, yet I love not ghosts or spectres to be commentators there- on ; and truly your account of your conversation with our great parent, in the crypt, or most intimate recess of the publishers at Edinburgh, had upon me much the effect of the apparition of Hector's phantom to the hero of the iEneid — " Obstupui, steterunt.que comae/' And, as I said above, I repeat that I wondered at the Vision, without envying you the pleasure of seeing our great progeni- tor. But it seems that he is now permitted to show himself to his family more freely than formerly ; or that the old gentleman is turned somewhat garrulous in these latter days; or, in short, not to exhaust your patience with conjectures of the cause, I also have seen the Vision .of the Author of Waverley. I do not mean to take any undue state on myself, when I observe, that this interview was marked with circumstances in some degree more formally complaisant than those which attended your meeting with him in our worthy publisher's ; for yours had the appearance of a fortuitous rencontre, whereas mine was preceded by the communication of a large roll of papers, containing a new history, called Peveril of the Peak. I no sooner found that this manuscript consisted of a nar- U PREFATORY LETTER, ratfve, running to the length of perhaps three hundred a thirty pages in each volume, or thereabouts, than it instantly occurred to me from whom this boon came ; and having set myself to peruse the written sheets, I began to entertain strong expectations that I might, peradventure, next see the author himself. Again, it seems to me a marked circumstance, that whereas ;m inner apartment of Mr. Constable's shop was thought a place of sufficient solemnity for your audience, our venerable senior was pleased to afford mine in the recesses of my own lodgings, intra pqrieies, as it were, and without the chance of interruption. 1 must also remark, that the features, form, and dress of the Eidolon, as you well term the apparition of our parent, seemed to me more precisely distinct than was vouchsafed to y on on the former occasion. Of this hereafter; but heaven forbid I should glory or set up any claim of su- periority over the other descendants of our common parent, from such decided marks of his preference — Lavs propria , my uncle meant to have espoused the cause of Prince Charl«s Edward, for, indeed, so little did he esteem personal safety, in comparison of steady high-church principle, that he waited but the news of the Adventurer's reaching London to hasten to join his standard. Such a dose as I then enjoyed, 1 find compatible with in- dulging the best and deepest cogitations which at any time arise in my mind. I chew the cud of sweet and bitter fancy, in a state betwixt sleeping and waking, which I consider as so highly favourable to philosophy, that I have no doubt some of its most distinguished systems have been composed under its influence. My servant is, therefore, instructed to tread as if upon down — my door hinges are carefully oiled — and all appliances used to prevent me from being prematurely and harshly called back to the broad waking-day of a laborious world. My custom, in this particular, is so well known, that the very schoolboys cross the alley on tip toe, betwixt the hours of four and five. My cell is the very dwelling of Mor- pheus. There is indeed a bawling knave of a broom-man, quern ego — but this is matter for the Quarter Sessions. As my head sunk back upon the easy chair, in the philoso- phical mood which 1 have just described, and the e}es of my body began to close, in order, doubtless, that those of my un- derstanding might be more widely opened. I was startled by a knock at the door, of a kind more authoritatively boisterous than is given at that hour by any visiter acquainted with my habits. I started up in my seat, and heard the step of my servant hurrying along the passage, followed by a very heavy and measured pace, which shook the long oak-floored gallery in such a manner, as forcibly to arrest my attention. "A stranger, sir, just arrived from Edinburgh by the North Mail, desires to speak with your Reverence." Such were the 1* VI PREFATORY LETTER. ♦v ords with which Jacob threw the door to the wall ; and the startled tone in which he pronounced them, although there was nothing particular in the annunciation itself, prepared me for the approach of a visiter of uncommon dignity and im- portance. The Author of Waverley entered, a bulky and tall man- in a travelling- great-coat, which covered a suit of sjiuff- brown, cut in imitation of that worn by the great Rambler. Hi= Mapped hat, for he disdained the modern frivolities of a travelling cap, was bound over his head with a large silk handkerchief, so as to protect his ears from cold at once, and from the babble of his pleasant companions in the public coach from which he had just alighted. There was some- what of a sarcastic shrewdness and sense, which sate on the heavy penthouse of his shaggy gray eyebrow — his features were in other respects largely shaped, and rather heavy, than promising wit or genius ; but he had a notable projection ot the nose, similar to that line of the Latin poet, — (i iirmiodicum surgit pro cuspide rostrum." A stout walking-stick stayed his hand — a double Barcelona protected his neck — his belly was something prominent, 'but that's not much,' — his breeches were substantial thickset — and a pair of top-boots, which were slipped down to ease his sturdy calves, did not conceal his comfortable travelling stockings of lamb's wool, wrought, not on the loom, but on the wires, and after the venerable ancient fashion, known in Scotland by the name of ridge-and-furrorv. His age seemed to be considerably above fifty, but could not amount to three- score, which I observed with pleasure, trusting there maybe a good deal of work had out of him yet : especially as a general haleness of appearance — the compass and strength of his voice — the steadiness of his step — the rotundity of v,i s calf— the depth of his hem, and the sonorous emphasis of his sneeze, were all signs of a constitution built for per- manence. It struck me forcibly, as I gazed on this portly person, that he realized, in my imagination, the Stout Gentleman in No. II., who afforded such subject of varying speculation to our most amusing and elegant Utopian traveller, Master Geoffrey Crayon. Indeed, but for one little trait in the conduct Of the said Stout Gentleman — I mean the gallantry towards his landlady, a thing which would greatly derogate from our Senior's character — I should be disposed to con- PREFATORV LETTER. Vli elude that Master Crayon had, on that memorable occasion, actually passed his time in the vicinity of the Author of Waverley. But our worthy patriarch, be it spoken to his praise, far from cultivating the society of the fair sex, seems, in avoiding the commerce of womankind, rather to imitate the humour of our friend and relation, Master Jonathan Oldbuck, as 1 was led to conjecture, from a circumstance which occurred immediately after his entrance. Having acknowledged his presence with titting thanks and gratulatio.ns, I proposed to my venerated visiter, as the re- freshment best suited to the hour of the day, to summon my cousin and housekeeper, Miss Catherine Whiterose, with the tea-equipage; but he rejected my proposal with disdain, worthy of the Laird of Monkbarns. " No scandal-broth," he exclaimed ; ,% no unidea'd woman's chatter for me. Fill the frothed tankard — slice the fatter! rump — 1 desire no so- ciety but yours, and no refreshment but what the cask and the gridiron can supply." The beef-steak, and toast and tankard, were speedily got ready ; and whether an apparition, or a bodily presentation, my visiter displayed dexterity as a trencher-man, which might have attracted the envy of a hungry hunter, after a fox-chase of forty miles. Neither did he fail to make some deep and solemn appeals, not only to the tankard aforesaid, but to two decanters of London particular Madeira and old Port ; the first of which 1 had extracted from its ripening place of depositation, within reach of the genial warmth of the oven ; the other, from a deep crypt in mine own ancient cellar, which whilome may have held the vintages of the victors of the world, the arch being composed of Roman brick. I could not help admiring and congratulating the old gentleman upon the vigorous appetite which he displayed for the genial cheer of old England. t; Sir," was his reply, " 1 must eat as an Englishman, to qualify myself for taking my piace at one of the most select companies of right English spirits, which ever girdled in, and hewed asunder, a moun- tainous sirloin, and a generous plum-pudding." I inquired, but with all deference and modesty, whither he was bowpd, and to what distinguished society he applied a description so general. 1 shall proceed, in humble imita- tion of your example, to give the subsequent dialogue in a dramatic form, unless when description becomes necessary. Author of Waverley. To whom should I apply such a description, save to the only Society to whom it can be tho- VIII PREFATORY LETTER. roughly applicable — those unerring judges of old books and old wine — the Roxburghe Club of London ? Have you not heard that 1 have been chosen a member of that Society of select Bibliomaniacs ? Driasdast. (Rummaging in his pocket.) I did hear some- thing of it from captain Clutterbuck. who wrote to me — ay, here is his letter — that such a report was current among the Scottish antiquaries, who were much alarmed lest you should be seduced into the heresy of preferring English beef to seven-year-old black-faced mutton, Maraschino to whiskey, and turtle soup to cock-a-ieekie ; in which case, they must needs renounce you as a lost man. — " But," adds our friend — his hand is rather of a military description — better used to handle the sword than the pen — " Our friend is so mucli upon the SHU N — the shun, 1 think it is- that it will be no light temptation which will withdraw him from his in- cognito." Author. No light temptation, unquestionably ; but this is a powerful one, to hob or nob with the lords of the literary treasures of Althorpe and Hodnet, in Madeira negus, brew- ed by the classical Dibdin — to share those profound debates which stamp accurately on each " small volume, dark with tarnished, gold," its collar not of S. S. but of R. R. to toast the immortal memory of Caxton, Valdarar, Pynson, and the Other fathers of that great art, which lias made all, and each of us, what we are. These, my dear son, are temptations, to which you see me now in the act of resigning that quiet chimney-corner of life, in which, unknowing and unknown — save by means of the hopeful family to which I have given birth — 1 had proposed to wear out the end of life's evening gray. So saying, our venerable friend to^k another emphatic touch of the tankard, as if the very expression had suggested that specific remedy against the evils of life recommended in the celebrated response of Johnson's anchorite — '• Come, my lad, ami drink some beer/' When he had placed on the table the silver tankard, and fetched a deep sigh to collect the respiration which the long draught had interrupted, 1 could not help echoing it, in a note so pathetically compassionate, that he fixed his eyes on me with surprise. " How is this ?" said he, somewhat an- grily ; "do you, the creature of my will, grudge me my preferment? Have 1 dedicated to you, and your fellows, the PREFATORY LETTER. IS best hours of my life for these seven years past ; and do you presume to grumble or repine, because, in those which are to come, I seek for some enjoyment of life in society so congenial to my pursuits '?" 1 humbled myself before the offended Senior, and professed my innocence in all that could possibly give him displeasure. He seemed partly appeased, but still bent on me an eye of some suspicion, while he questioned me in the words of old Norton, in the ballad of the " Rising in the North Country." Author. What wouldst thou have Francis Norton : Thou art my youngest sod and h^ir; Something lies brooding at thy heart — Whate'er it he, to me declare. Driasdust. Craving, then, your paternal forgiveness for my presumption, 1 only sighed at the possibility of your ventu- ring yourself among a body of critics, to whom, in the ca- pacity of skilful antiquaries, the investigation of truth is an especial duty, and who may therefore visit with "the more severe censure those aberrations, which it is so often your pleasure to make from the path of true history. Author. I understand you. You mean to say these learned persons will have but iittle toleration for a romance, or a fictitious narrative founded upon history ? Driasdust. Why, sir, I do rather apprehend, that their respect for the foundation will be such, that they may be apt to quarrel with the inconsistent nature of the superstructure ; just as every classical traveller pours forth expressions of sorrow and indignation, when, in travelling through Greece, he chances to see a Turkish kiosk rising on the ruins of an ancient temple. Author. But since we cannot rebuild the temple, a kiosk may be a pretty thing, may it not J Not quite correct in architecture, strictly and classically criticised ; but presenting something uncommon to the eye, and something fantastic to the imagination, on which the spectator gazes with pleasure of the same description which arises from the perusal of an Eastern tale. Driasdust. I am unable to dispute with you in metaphor, sir ; but I must say, in discharge of my conscience, that you stand much censured for adulterating the pure sources of historical knowledge. You approach them, men say, like the drunken yeoman, who, once upon a time, polluted the crystal spring which supplied the thirst of his family, with a score of sugar loaves and a hogshead of rum ; and thereby converted a simple and wholesome beverage into a stupefy- X PREFATORY LETTER. ing, brutefying, and intoxicating fluid ; sweeter indeed, to the taste, than the natural lymph, but, for that very reason, more seductively dangerous. Author. I allow your metaphor, Doctor ; but yet, though good punch cannot supply the want of spring-water, it is, when modestly used, no malum in se ; and I should have thought it a shabby thing of the parson of the parish, had he helped to drink out the well on Saturday night, and preached against the honest hospitable yeoman on Sunday morning. I should have answered to him, that the very flavour of the liquor should have put him at once upon his guard ; and that, if he had taken a drop over much, he ought to blame his own imprudence more than the hospitality of his entertainer. Driasdust. 1 profess I do not exactly see how this applies. Aulhor. No ; you are one of those numerous disputants, who will never follow their metaphor a step farther than it goes their own way. I will explain. A poor fellow, like myself, weary with ransacking his own barren and bounded imagination, looks out for some general subject in the huge and boundless field of history, which holds forth examples of every kind — lights on some personage, or some combina- tion of circumstances, or some striking trait of manners, which he thinks may be advantageously used as the basis of a fictitious narrative — bedizens it with such colouring as his skill suggests — ornaments it with such romantic circumstan- ces as may heighten the general effect — invests it with such shades of character, as will best contrast with each other, and thinks, perh tps, he has done some service to the pub- lic, if he can present to them a lively fictitious picture, for which the original anecdote or circumstance, which he made free to press into his service, only furnished a slight sketch. Now I cannot perceive the slightest harm in this. The stores of history are accessible to every one ; and are no more exhausted or impoverished by the hints thus borrow- ed from them, than the fountain is drained by the water which we subtract for domestic purposes. And in reply to the sober ch irj;e of falsehood, against a narrative announced positively to be fictitious, one can only reply, by Prior's exclamation. " Odzooks, must one swear to the truth of a song?" Driasdust. Nay ; but I fear me that you are here eluding the charge. Men do not seriously accuse you of misrepre- senting history ; although I assure you I have seen some PREFATORY LETTER. Xl grave treatises, in which it was thought necessary to con- tradict your assertions. Author. That certainly was to point a discharge of artil- lery against a wreath of morning mist. Driasdust. But besides, and especially, it is said that you are in danger of causing history to be neglected — readers being contented with such frothy and superficial knowledge, as they acquire from your works, to the effect of inducing them to neglect the severer and more accurate sources of information. Author. I deny the consequence. On the contrary, I rather hope that I have turned the attention of the public on various points, which have received elucidation from writers of more learning and research in consequence of my novels having attached some interest to them. I might give instances, but I hate vanity — 1 hate vanity. The his- tory of the divining rod is well known — it is a slight value- less twig in itself, but indicate* by its motion, where veins of precious metal are concealed below the earth, which af- terward enrich the adventurers by whom they are laborious- ly and carefully wrought. I claim no more merit for my historical hints ; but this is something. Driasdust. We severer antiquaries, sir, may grant that this is true ; to wit, that your works may occasionally have put men of solid judgment upon researches which they would not perhaps have otherwise thought of undertaking. But this will leave you still accountable for misleading the young, the indolent, and the giddy, by thrusting into their hands works, which, while they have so much the appear- ance of conveying information, as may prove perhaps a salve to their consciences for employing their leisure in the perusal, yet leave their giddy brains contented with the crude, uncertain, and often false statements which your novels abound with. ^m Author. It would be very unbecoming in me, reverend sir, to accuse a gentleman of your cloth of cant ; but pray is there not something like it in the pathos with which you enforce these dangers ? I aver, on the contrary, that b} T introducing the busy and the youthful to " truths severe in fairy fiction dressed," lam doing a real service to the more ingenious and the more apt among them ; for the love of knowledge wants but a beginning — the least spark will give lire when the train is properly prepared ; and having been interested in fictitious adventures, ascribed to a historical Xll PREFATORY LETTER. period and characters, the reader begins next to be anxious to learn what the facts really were, and how far the novelist has justly represented them. But even where the mind of the more careless reader remains satisfied with the light perusal he has afforded to a tale of fiction, he will still lay down the book with a degree of knowledge, not perhaps of the most accurate kind, but such as he might not otherwise have acquired. Nor is this limited to minds of alow and incurious description ; but on the contrary, comprehends many persons otherwise of high talents, who, nevertheless, either from lack of time, or of perseverance, are willing to sit down contented with the slight information which is acquired in such a manner. The great duke of Marlborough, for example, having quoted, in conversation, some fact of English history rather inaccurate- ly, was requested to name his authority. " Shakspeare's Historical Plays," answered the conqueror of Blenheim : "the only English history I ever read in my life." And a hasty recollection will convince any of us how much better we are acquainted with those parts of English history which that immortal bard has dramatized, than with any other por- tion of British story. Driasdust. And you, worthy sir, are ambitious to render a similar service to posterity ? Author. May the saints forefend I should be guilty of such unfounded vanity ! I only show what has been done when there were giants in the land. We pigmies of the present day, may at least, however, do something ; and it is well to have a pattern before our eyes, though that pat- tern be inimitable. Driasdust. Well, sir, with me you must have your own course ; and for reasons well known to you, it is impossible for me to reply to you in argument. But I doubt if all you have said will reconcile the public to the anachronisms of your present volumes. Here you have a Countess of Der- by, fetched out of her coll grave, and saddled with a set of adventures dated twenty years after her death. Author. She may sue for damages, as in the case D^do versus Virgil. Driasdust. A worse fault is, that your manners are even more incorrect than usual Your Puritan is faintly traced, in comparison to your Oameronian. Author. I agree to the charge ; but although I still con- sider hypocrisy and enthusiasm as fit food for ridicule and PREFATORY LETTER. Xlll satire, yet I am sensible of the difficulty of holding fanati- cism up to laughter or abhorrence, without using colouring which may give offence to the sincerely worthy and reli- gious. Many things are lawful which we are taught are not convenient ; and there are many tones of feeling which are too respectable to be insulted, though we do not altogether sympathize with them. Driasdust. Not to mention, my worthy sir, that perhaps you may think the subject exhausted. Author. The devil take the men of this generation for putting the worst construction on their neighbour's conduct ! So saying, and flinging a testy sort of adieu towards me with his hand, he opened the door, and ran hastily down stairs. I started on my feet, and rang for my servant, who instantly came. I demanded what had become of the stran oer — he denied that any such had been admitted — I pointed to the empty decanters, and he — he — he had the assurance to intimate that such vacancies were sometimes 'made when I had no better company than my own. I do not know what to make of this doubtful matter, but will certainly imi- tate your example in placing this dialogue, with my present letter, at the head of Peveril of the Peak. I am, Dear Sir, Very much your faithful and obedient servant, Jonas Driasdust -Mich aelmas-day, 1822, York, VOL. I. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK CHAPTER I. When civil dudgeon first grew high, And men fell out they knew not why ; When foul words, jealousies, and fears, Set folks together by the ears — Bvtllh William, the Conqueror of England, was, or sup- posed himself to be, the father of a certain William Peveril, who attended him to the battle of Hastings, and there distinguished himself. The liberal-minded mo- narch, who assumed in his charters the veritable title of Gulielmus Bastardus, was not likely to let his son's illegitimacy be any bar to the course of his royal favour, when the laws of England were issued from the mouth of the Norman victor, and the lands of the Saxons were at his unlimited disposal. William Peveril obtained a liberal grant of property and lordships in Derbyshire, and became the erector of that Gothic fortress, which, hanging over the mouth of the Devil's Cavern, so well known to tourists, gives the name of Castleton to thjg| adjacent village. From this feudal Baron, who chose his nest upon the principles on which an eagle selects her eyry, and built it in such a fashion as if he had intended it, as an Irish- man said of the Martello towers, for the sole purpose of puzzling posterity, there was, or conceived themselves to be, descended (for their pedigree was rather hypo- thetical) an opulent family of knightly rank, in the same, 1G PEVEIUL OF THE PEAK. county of Derby. The great fief of Castleton, with its' adjacent wastes and forests, and all the wonders which they contain, had been forfeited in King John's stormy days by one William Peveril, and had been granted anew to the Lord Ferrers of that day. Yet this Wil- liam's descendants, though no longer possessed of what they alleged to be their original property, were long distinguished by the proud title of Peverils of the Peak, which served to mark their high descent, and lofty pre- tensions. In Charles the Second's time, the representative ot this ancient family was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man who had many of the ordinary attributes of an old-fa- shioned country gentleman, and very few individual traits to distinguish him from the general portrait of that worthy class of mankind. He was proud of small advantages, angry at small disappointments, incapable of forming any resolution or opinion abstracted from his own prejudices — he was proud of his birth, lavish in his housekeeping, convivial with his kindred and ac- quaintances, who would allow his superiority in rank — contentious and quarrelsome with all that crossed his pretensions — kind to the poor, except when they plun- dered his game — a royalist in his political opinions — and one who detested alike a Roundhead, a poacher, and a Presbyterian. In religion Sir Geoffrey was a high churchman of so exalted a strain that many thought he still nourished in private the Roman Catholic tenets, which his family had only renounced in his father's time, and that he had a dispensation for conforming in outward observances to the Protestant faith. There was at least such a scandal among the Puritans, and the influence which Sir Geoffrey Peveril certainly ap- peared to possess amongst the Catholic gentlemen of Derbyshire and Cheshire, seemed to give countenance to the rumour: Such was Sir Geoffrey, who might have passed to his grave without further distinction than a brass-plate in the chancel, had he not lived in times which forced the most inactive spirits into exertion, as a tempest influ- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 1* ences the sluggish waters of the deadest mere. When the Civil Wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak, proud from pedigree, and brave by constitution, raised a regi- ment for the King, and showed upon several occasions more capacity to command, than men had heretofore given him credit for. Even in the midst of the civil turmoil, he fell in love with, and married, a beautiful and amiable young lady of the noble house of Stanley : and from that time had the more merit in his loyalty, as it divorced him from her society, unless at very brief intervals, when his duty permitted an occasional visit to his home. Scorning to be allured from his military duty by domestic induce- ments, Peveril of the Peak fought on for several rough years of civil war, and performed his part with sufficient gallantry, until his regiment was surprised and cut to pieces by Poyntz, Cromwell's enterprising and success- ful general of cavalry. The defeated cavalier escaped from the field of battle, and, like a true descendant of William the Conqueror, disdaining submission, threw. a himself into his own castellated mansion-house, which was attacked and defended in a siege of that irregular kind which caused the destruction of so many baronial residences during the course of these unhappy wars. Martindale Castle, after having suffered severely from the cannon which Cromwell himself brought against it, was at length surrendered when at the last extremity. Sir Geoffrey himself became a prisoner, and while his liberty was only restored upon a promise of remaining a peaceful subject to the Commonwealth in future, his former delinquencies, as they were termed by the ruling party, were severely punished by tine and sequestration. But neither his forced promise, nor the fear of fur- ther unpleasant consequences to his person or properly, could prevent Peveril of the Peak from joining the gallant Earl of Derby the night before the fatal engage- ment in Wfggan-Iane, where the Earl's forces were dispersed. Sir Geoffrey had his share in that action, and escaped with the reliques of the royalists after the defeat, to join Charles II. He witnessed also the final 3c/eat of Worcester, where he was a second time made IS PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. prisoner, and as being, in the opinion of Cromwell and the language of the times, an obstinate malignant, he was in great danger of having shared with the Earl of Derby his execution at Bolton-le-Moor, as he had par- taken with him the dangers of two actions. But Sir. Geoffrey's life was preserved by the interest of a friend, who possessed influence in the councils of Oliver. — This was a Mr. Bridgenorth, a gentleman of middling quality, whose father had been successful in some com- mercial adventure during the peaceful reign of James I.; and who had bequeathed his son a considerable sum of money, in addition to the small patrimony which he inherited from his father. The substantial, though moderate-sized brick build- ing of Moultrassie Hall, was but two miles distant from Martindale Castle, and the young Bridgenorth attended the same school with the heir of the Peverils. A sort of companionship, if not intimacy, took place betwixt them, which continued during their youthful sports — j^the rather that Bridgenorth, though he r did not at heart admit Sir Geoffrey's claims of superiority to the extent which the other's vanity would have exacted, paid de- ference in a reasonable degree to the representative of a family so much more ancient and important than his own, without conceiving that he in any respect degra- ded himself by doing so. Mr. Bridgenorth did not, however, carry his com- plaisance so far as to embrace Sir Geoffrey's side du- ring the Civil War. On the contrary, as an active Justice of the Peace, he assisted eminently in arraying the militia in the cause of the Parliament, and for some time held a military commission in that service. This was partly owing to his religious principles, for he was a zealous Presbyterian, partly to his political ideas, which. without being absolutely democratical, favoured the popular side of the great national question. Besides, he was a moneyed man, and to a certain extent had a shrewd eye to his worldly interest. He understood how to improve the opportunities which civil war afforded, of advancing his fortune, by a dexterous use of his capital ; and he was not at a loss to perceive PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 19 that these were likely to be obtained by joining the Par- liament; while the king's cause, as it was managed, held out nothing to the wealthy but a course of exac- tion and compulsory loans. For these reasons, Bridge- north became a decided Roundhead, and all friendly communication betwixt his neighbour and him was ab- ruptly broken asunder. This was done with the less acrimony, that, during the Civil War, Sir Geoffrey was almost constantly in the field, following the vacillating and unhappy fortunes of his master; while Major Bridgenorth, who soon renounced active military ser- vice, resided chiefly in London, and only occasionally visited the Hall, for the purpose of seeing his wife and family. Upon these visits he learned, and it was with great pleasure he received the intelligence, that Lady Pe- veril had shown much occasional kindness to Mrs. Bridgenorth, and had actually given her and her family shelter in Martindale Castle, when Moultrassie Hall was threatened with pillage by a body of Prince Rupert's ill-disciplined cavaliers. This acquaintance had been matured by frequent walks together, which the vicinity of their places of residence suffered the Lady Peveril to arrange with Mrs. Bridgenorth, who deemed herself much honoured in being thus admitted into the society of so distinguished a Lady. Major Bridgenorth heard of this growing intimacy with great pleasure, and he determined to repay the obligation, as far as he could without much hurt to himself, by interfering with all his influence, in behalf of her unfortunate husband. It was chiefly owing to Major Bridgenorth's mediation, that Sir Geoffrey's life was saved after Worcester battle. He obtained him permission to compound for his estate on easier terms than many who had been less obstinate in malignancy ; and, finally, when, in order to raise the money to pay the composition, the Knight was obliged to'sell a considerable portion of his patrimony. Major Bridgenorth became the purchaser, and that at a larger price than had been paid to any cavalier under such circumstances, by a member of the Committee for Sequestrations. It is true, the prudent committee 20 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. man did not, by any means, lose sight of his own inter- est in the transaction, for the price was, after all, very moderate, and the property lay adjacent to Moultrassie Hall, the value of which was at least trebled by the ac- quisition. But then it was also true, that the unfortu- nate owner must have submitted to much worse condi- tions, had the committee-man used, as others did, the full advantages which his situation gave him ; and Bridge- north took credit to himself, and received it from others, for having, on this occasion, fairly sacrificed his interest to his liberality. Sir Geoffrey Peveril was of the same opinion, and the rather that Major Bridgenorth seemed to endure his exaltation with great moderation, and was disposed to show him personally the same deference in the rise of his fortunes, which he had exhibited formerly in their early acquaintance. It is but justice to Major Bridge- north to observe, that in this conduct he paid respect as much to the misfortunes as to the pretensions of his far-descended neighbour, and that, with the frank ge- nerosity of a blunt Englishman, he conceded points of ceremony about which he himself was indifferent, merely because he saw that his doing so gave pleasure- to Sir Geoffrey. Peveril of the Peak did justice to his neighbour's de- licacy, in consideration of which he forgot many things.. He forgot that Major Bridgenorth was already in pos- session over a fair third of his estate, and had various pecuniary claims affecting the remainder, to the extent of one-third more. He endeavoured even to forget, what it was still more difficult not to remember, the al- tered situation in which they and their mansions now stood to each other. Before the Civil War. the superb battlements and turrets of I\Iar , tindale Castle, situated on a rock of some eminence, looked down on the red brick-built hall, as it stole out from the green plantations, just as an oak in Martindale Chase would have looked beside one of the stunted and formal young beech-trees with which Bridgenorth had graced his avenue ; but after the siege which we have commemorated, the enlarged and aug- PEVEVRIL OF THE PEAK. 21 mented Hall was as much predominant in the landscape over the shattered and blackened ruins of the Castle, of which only one wing was left habitable, as the youthful beech, in all its vigour of shoot and bud, would show to the same aged oak stripped of its boughs, and rifted by lightning, one half laid in shivers on the ground, and the other remaining a blackened and ungraceful trunk, rent and splintered, and without either life or leaves. Sir Geoffrey could not but feel, that the situation and prospects of the two neighbours were exchanged as dis- advantageous^ for himself as the appearance of then mansions ; and that though the authority of the man in office under the Parliament, the sequestrator, and the committee-man, had been only exerted for the protec- tion of the cavilier and the malignant, they would have been as effectual if applied to procure his utter ruin ; and that he was become a client, while his neighbour was elevated into a patron. There were two considerations, besides the necessity of the case and the constant advice of his lady, which enabled Peveril of the Peak to endure, with some pa- tience, this state of degradation. The first was, that the politics of Major Bridgenorth began, on many points, to assimilate themselves to his own. As a Presbyterian, he was not an utter enemy to monarchy, and had been considerably shocked at the unexpected trial aud exe- cution of the King ; as a civilian and a man of property, he feared the domination of the military ; and though he wished not to see Charles restored by force of arms, yet he arrived at the conclusion, that to bring back the heir of the royal family on such terms of composition as might ensure the protection of those popular immu- nities and privileges for which the long Parliament had at first contended, would be the surest and most desira- ble termination to the mutations of state which had agi- tated Britain. Indeed, the Major's ideas on this point approached so nearly those of his neighbour, that he had well nigh suffered Sir Geoffrey, who had a finger in almost all the conspiracies of the Royalists, to involve him in the unfortunate rising of Penruddock and Groves. 22 PEVERIL OR THE PEAK. in the west, in which many of the Presbyterian interest, as well as the cavalier party, were engaged. And though his habitual prudence eventually kept him out of this and other dangers, Major Bridgenorth was consi- dered, during the last years of Cromwell's domination, and the inter- regnum which succeeded, as a disaffected person to the Commonwealth, and a favourer of Charles Stuart. But besides this approximation to the same political opinions, another bond of intimacy united the families of the Castle and the Hall. Major Bridgenorth, fortu- nate, and eminently so in all his worldly transactions, was visited by severe and reiterated misfortunes in his family, and became, in this particular, an object of com- passion to his poorer and more decayed neighbour. Betwixt the breaking out of the Civil War and the Re- storation, he lost successively a family of no less than six children, apparently through a delicacy of constitu- tion which cut off the little prattlers at the early age when they most wind themselves around the hearts of the parents. In the beginning of the year 1658, Major Bridgenorth was childless ; ere it ended, he had a daughter, indeed, but her birth was purchased by the death of an affec- tionate wife, whose constitution had been exhausted by maternal grief, and by the anxious and harrowing re- flection, that from her the children they had lost derived that delicacy of health, which proved unable to undergo the tear and wear of existence. The same voice which told Bridgenorth that he was father of a living child, (it was the friendly voice of Lady Peveril,) communicated to him the melancholy intelligence that he was no lon- ger a husband. The feelings of Major Bridgenorth were strong and deep, rather than hasty and vehement ; and his grief assumed the form of a sullen stupor, from which neither the friendly remonstrances of Sir Geof- frey, who did not fail to be with his neighbour at this dis- tressing conjuncture, even though he knew he must meet the Presbyterian pastor, nor the ghostly exhorta- tions of this latter person, were able to rouse the un tunate widower. PEVEIUL OR THE PEAK. 23 At length Lady Peveril, with the ready invention of a female sharpened by the sight of distress and the feel- ings of sympathy, tried on the sufferer one of those ex- periments by which grief is often awakened from des- pondency into tears. She placed in Bridgenorth's arms the infant whose birth had cost him so dear, and conju- red him to remember that his Alice was not yet dead, since she survived in the helpless child she had left to his paternal care. " Take her away — take her away !" said the unhap- py man, and they were the first words he had spoken ; " let me not look on her — it is but another blossom that has bloomed to fade, and the tree that bore it will never flourish more !" He almost threw the child into Lady Peveril's arms, placed his hands before his face, and wept aloud. La- dy Peveril did not say, " Be comforted," but she ventu- red to promise that the blossom should ripen to fruit. "Never, never!" said Bridgenorth ; "take the un- happy child away, and let me only know when I shall wear black for h^r — Wear black !" he exclaimed, in- terrupting himself, " what other colour shall I wear du- ring the remainder of my life ?" " 1 will take the child for a season," said Lady Pev- eril, " since the sight of her is so painful to you ; and the little Alice shall share the nursery of our Julian, un- til it shall be pleasure and not pain for you to look on her." " That hour will never come," said the unhappy fa- ther ; " her doom is written — she will follow the rest — God's will be done. — Lady, I thank you — 1 trust her to your care ; and I thank God that my eye shall not see her dying agonies." Without detaining the reader's attention longer on this painful theme, it is enough to say that the Lady Peveril did undertake the duties of a mother to the little orphan ; and perhaps it was owing, in a great measure, to her judicious treatment of the infant that its feeble life was preserved, since the glimmering spark might probably have been altogether smothered, had it, like the Major's former children, undergone the overcare 24 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. and over-nursing of a mother rendered nervously cau- tious and anxious by so many successive losses. The lady was the more ready to undertake this charge, that she herself had lost two infant children ; and that she attributed the preservation of the third, now a fine heal- thy child of three years old, to Julian's being subjected to rather a different course of diet and treatment than was then generally practised. She resolved to follow the same regimen with the little orphan which she had observed in the case of her own boy, and it was equal- ly successful. By a more sparing use of medicine, by a bolder admission of fresh air, by a firm yet cautious attention to encourage rather than to supersede the ex- ertions of nature, the puny infant, under the care of an excellent nurse, gradually improved in strength and in liveliness. Sir Geoffrey, like most men of his frank and good- natured disposition, was naturally fond of children, and so much compassioned the sorrows of his neighbour, that he entirely forgot his being a Presbyterian, until it be- came necessary that the infant should be christened by a teacher of that persuasion. This was a trying case — the father seemed incapable of giving direction, and that the threshold of Martin- dale Castle should be violated by the heretical step of a dissenting clergyman, was matter of horror to its or- thodox owner. He had seen the famous Hugh Peters, with a Bible in one hand and a pistol in the other, ride in triumph through the court-door when Martindale was surrendered, and the bitterness of that hour had en- tered like iron into his soul. Yet such was Lady Pev- eril's influence over the prejudices of her husband, that he was induced to connive at the ceremony taking place in a remote garden-house, which was not pro- perly within the precincts of the Castle-wall. The lady even dared to be present while the ceremony was per- formed by the reverend Master Solsgrace, who had once preached a sermon of three hours length before the House of Commons, upon a thanksgiving occasion after the relief of Exeter. Sir Geoffrey Peveril took care PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. to be absent the whole day from the Castle, and it was only from the great interest which he took in the wash- ing, perfuming, and as it were purification of the sum- mer-house, that it could have been guessed he knew any thing of what had taken place in it. But, whatever prejudices the good Knight might en- tertain against his neighbour's form of religion, they did not in any way influence his feelings towards him as a sufferer under severe affliction. The mode in which he showed his sympathy was rather singular, but ex- actly suited the character of both, and the terms on which they stood with each other. Morning after morning the good Baronet made Moul* trassie Hall the termination of his walk or ride, and said a single word of kindness as he passed. Sometimes he entered the old parlour, where the proprietor sate in solitary wretchedness and despondency; but more fre quently (for Sir Geoffrey did not pretend to great ta- lents of conversation,) he paused on the terrace, and stopping or halting his horse by the latticed window, said aloud to the melancholy inmate — " How is it with you, Master Bridgenorth ? (the Knight would never acknowledge his neighbour's military rank of Major: I just look'ed in to bid you keep a good heart, man, and to tell you that Julian is well, and little Alice is well. and all are well at Martindale Castle." A deep sigh, sometimes coupled with" I thank you. Sir Geoffrey ; my grateful duty waits on Lady Peveril," was generally Bridgenorth's only answer. But the news was received on the one part with the kindness which was designed upon the other; it gradually be- came less painful and more interesting : the lattice window was never closed, nor was the leathern easy chair, which stood next to it, ever empty, when the usual hour of the Baronet's momentary visit approach- ed. At length the expectation of that passing minute became the pivot upon which the thoughts of poor Bridgenorth turned during all the rest of the day. Most men have known the influence of such brief but ruling moments at some period of their lives. The momen when a lover passes the window of his mistress— the vol. i. 3 26 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. moment when the epicure hears the dinner-bell, is that into which is crowded the whole interest of the day — the hours which precede it are spent in anticipation ; the hours which follow, in reflection on what has pass- ed; and fancy dwelling on each brief circumstance, gives to seconds the duration of minutes, to minutes that of hours. Thus seated in his lonely chair, Bridgenorth could catch at a distance the stately step of Sir Geof- frey, or the heavy tramp of his war-horse Black Hast- ings, which had Dome him in many an action ; he could hear the hum of" The King shall enjoy his own again," or the habitual whistle of u Cuckolds and Roundheads," die into reverential silence, as the Knight approached the mansion of affliction ; and then came the strong hale voice of the huntsman-soldier with its usual greeting. By degrees, the communication became something more protracted, as Major Bridgenorth's grief, like all human feelings, lost its overwhelming violence, and permitted him to attend in some degree to what passed around him, to discharge various duties which pressed themselves, and to give a share of attention to the situ- ation of the country, distracted as it was by the con- tending factions, whose strife only terminated in the Restoration. Still, however, though slowly recovering from the effects of the shock which he had sustained, Major Bridgenorth felt himself as yet unable to make up his mind to the effort necessary to see his infant ; and though separated by so brief a space from the being in whose existence he was more interested than in any thing the world afforded, he only made himself acquaint- ed with the windows of the apartment where little Alice was lodged, and was often observed to watch them from the terrace as they brightened in the even- ing under the influence of the setting sun. In truth, though a strong-minded man in most respects, he was unable to lay aside the gloomy impression that this re- maining pledge of affection was soon to be conveyed to that grave which had already devoured all besides which was dear to him ; and he awaited in miserable suspense the moment when he should hear that symp- toms of the fatal malady had begun to show them- selves. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 27 But the voice of Peveril continued to be that of a comforter, until the month of April, 1660, when it sud- denly assumed a new and different tone. " The King shall enjoy his own again," far from ceasing as the hasty tread of Black Hastings came up the avenue, bore burthen to the clatter of his hoofs on the paved court- yard, as Sir Geoffrey sprang from his great war-saddle, now once more garnished with pistols of two feet in length, and, armed with steel-cap, back and breast, and a truncheon in his hand, he rushed into the apartment of the astonished major, with his eyes sparkling, and his cheek inflamed, as he called out — " Up ! up, neigh- bour! No time now to mope in the chimney-corner. Where is your buff-coat and broadsword, man ? Take the true side once in your life, and mend past mistakes. The King is all lenity, man — all royal nature and mer- cy. I will get your full pardon. 5 ' " What means all this ?" said Bridgenorth — " is all well with you — all well at Martindale Castle, Sir Geof- frey ?" " Well as you could wish them, Alice and Julian, and all. But I have news worth twenty of that — Monk has declared at London against those stinking scoundrels the Rump. Fairfax is up in Yorkshire — for the King — for the King, man ! Churchmen, Presbyterians and all, are in buff and bandelier for King Charles. I have a letter from Fairfax to secure Derby and Chesterfield, with all the men I can make. D — n him, fine that I should take orders from him! But never mind that — all are friends now, and you and 1, good neighbour, will charge abreast, as good neighbours should. See there, read — read — read — and then boot and saddle in an instant. " Hey for cavaliers — ho for cavaliers. Pray for cavaliers, Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, Have at old Beelzebub, Oliver shakes in his bier." After thundering forth this elegant effusion of loyal enthusiasm, the sturdy cavalier's heart became too full. 28 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. He threw himself in a seat, and exclaiming, " Did ever 1 think to live to see this happy day!" he wept to his own surprise, as much as to that of Bridgenorth. Upon considering the crisis in which the country was placed, it appeared to Major Bridgenorth, as it had done to Fairfax, and other leaders of the Presbyterian party, that their frank embracing of the royal interest was the wisest and most patriotic measure which they could adopt in the circumstances, when all ranks and classes of men were seeking refuge from the uncertain- ty and varied oppression attending the repeated contests between the factions of Westminster Hall and of Wal- lingford House. Accordingly he joined with Sir Geof- frey, with less enthusiasm indeed, but with equal since- rity, taking such measures as seemed proper to secure their part of the country on the King's behalf, which was as effectually and peaceably executed as in other parts of England. The neighbours were both at Ches- terfield when the news arrived that the King was landed in England ; and Sir Geoffrey instantly announced his purpose of waiting upon his Majesty, even before his return to the Castle of Martindale. " Who knows, neighbour," he said, " whether Sir Geoffrey Peveril will ever return to Martindale ? Titles must be going amongst them yonder, and 1 have deser- ved something among the rest. — Lord Peveril would sound well — or stay, Earl of Martindale — no, not of Martindale — Earl of the Peak. — Meanwhile trust your affairs to me— I will see you secured — I would you had been no Presbyterian, neighbour — a knighthood, — I mean a knight-bachelor, not a knight-baronet, — would have served your turn well/' " I leave these things to my betters, Sir Geoffrey, ' ? said the Major, "and desire nothing so earnestly as to find all well at Martindale when I return." " You will — you will find them all well," said the Baronet ; " Julian, Alice, Lady Peveril, and all of them — bear my commendations to them, and kiss them all- neighbour, Lady Peveril and all — you may kiss a Coun- tess when I come back ; all will go well with you now vou are turned honest man." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 29 " I always meant to be so, Sir Geoffrey," said Bridge- north, calmly. "Well, well, well— no offence meant," said the Knight, "all is well now— so you to Moultrassie Hall, and I to Whitehall. Said I well, aha! So ho, mine host, a stoup of Canary to the King's health ere we get to horse — I forgot, neighbour — you drink no healths." " I wish the King's health as sincerely as if I drank a gallon to it," replied the Major ; " and I wish you, Sir Geoffrey, all success on your journey and on your re- turn." CHAPTER II. Why then, we will have bellowing of beeves, Broaching of barrels, brandishing of spiggots ; Blood shall flow freely, but it shall be gore Of herds and flocks, and venison and poultry, Join'd to the brave hearts-blood of John-a-Barleycorn. Old Flay. Whatever rewards Charles might have condescend- ed to bestow in acknowledgment of the sufferings and loyalty of Peveril of the Peak, he had none in his dis- posal equal to the pleasure which Providence had re- served for Bridgenorth on his return to Derbyshire. The exertion to which he had been summoned, had had the usual effect of restoring to a certain extent the acti- vity and energy of his character, and he felt it would be unbecoming to relapse into the state of lethargic melan- choly from which it had roused him. Time also had its usual effect in mitigating the subjects of his regret ; and when he had passed one day at the Hall, in regret- ting that he could not expect the indirect news of his daughter's health, which Sir Geoffrey used to commu- nicate in his almost daily call, he reflected that it would be in every respect becoming that he should pay a per- sonal visit at Martindale Castle, carry thither the re- membrances of the knight to his lady, assure her of his health, and satisfy himself respecting that of his daugh- 3* 30 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ter. He armed himself for the worst — he called tore- collection the thin cheeks, faded eye, wasted hand, pal- lid lip, which had marked the decaying health of all his former infants. " I shall see," he said, " these signs of mortality once more — I shall once more see a beloved being to whom I have given birthgliding to the grave which ought to en- close me long before her. No matter — it is unmanly so long to shrink from that which must be — God's will be done." He went, accordingly, on the subsequent morning, io Martindale Castle, and gave the lady the welcome assurances of her husband's safety, and of his hopes of preferment. " For the first, may Almighty God be praised !" said the Lady Peveril ; "and be the other as our gracious and restored Sovereign may will it. We are great enough for our means, and have means sufficient for contentment, though not for splendour. And now I see, good Master Bridgenorth, the folly of putting faith in idle presentiments of evil. So often had Sir Geof- frey's repeated attempts in favour of the Stuarts led him into new misfortunes, that when, the other morn- ing, I saw him once more dressed in his fatal armour, and heard the long silent sound of his trumpet, it seem- ed to me as if I saw his shroud and heard his death- knell. I say this to you, good neighbour, the rather because I fear your own mind has been harassed with anticipations of impending calamity, which it may please God to avert in your case as it has done in mine ; and here comes a sight which bears good assurance of it.'" The door of the apartment opened as she spoke, and two lovely children entered. The eldest, Julian Pe- veril, a line boy betwixt four and five years old, led in his hand, with an air of dignified support and attention, a little girl of eighteen months, who rolled and tottered along, keeping herself with difficulty upright by the assistance of her elder, stronger, and masculine com- panion. Bridgenorth cast a hasty and fearful glance upon the countenance of his daughter, and even in that glimpse. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 31 perceived, with exquisite delight, that his fears were unfounded. He caught her in his arms, pressed her to his heart, and the child, though at first alarmed at the vehemence of his caresses, presently, as if prompted by Nature, smiled in reply to them. Again he held her at some distance from him, and examined her more atten- tively ; he satisfied himself that the complexion of the young cherub he had in his arms was not the hectic tinge of disease, but the clear hue of ruddy health ; and that though her little frame was slight, it was firm and springy. " I did not think that it could have been thus," he said, looking to Lady Peveril. who had sat observing the scene with great pleasure ; " but praise be to God in the first instance, and next thank to you, madam, who have been his instrument." " Julian must lose his play-fellow now, I suppose ?" said the lady ; " but the Hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often. Dame Martha, the house* keeper at Moultrassie, has sense, and is careful. I will tell her the rules I haye observed with little Alice, and » " God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultras- sie," said Major Bridgenorth hastily ; " it has been the grave of her race. The air of the low grounds suited (hem not — or there is perhaps a fate connected with the mansion. I will seek for her some other place of abode." <; That you shall not, under your favour be it spoken, Major Bridgenorth," answered the lady. " If you do so, we must suppose that you are undervaluing my qualities as a nurse. If she goes not to her father's house, she shall not quit mine. I will keep the little lady as a pledge of her safety and my own skill ; and since you are afraid of the damp of the low grounds, I hope you will come here frequently to visit her." This was *a proposal which went to the heart of Ma- jor Bridgenorth. it was precisely the point which he would have given worlds to arrive at. but which he saw no chance of attaining. 32 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. It is too well known, that those whose families are long pursued by such a fatal disease as existed in his. become, it may be said, superstitious respecting its fatal effects, and ascribe to place, circumstance, and indivi- dual care, much more perhaps than these can in any case contribute to avert the fatality of constitutional distemper. Lady Peveri) was aware that this was pe- culiarly the impression of her neighbour; that the de- pression of his spirits, the excess of his care, the fever- ishness of his apprehensions, the restraint and gloom of the solitude in which he dwelt, were really calculated to produce the evil which most of all he dreaded. She pitied him, she felt for him. she was grateful for former protection received at his hands — she had become inte- rested in the child itself. What female fails to feel such interest in the helpless creature she has tended ? And to sum the whole up, the dame had a share of hu- man vanity ; and being a sort of Lady Bountiful in her way, (for the character was not then confined to the old and the foolish.) she was proud of the skill by which she had averted the probable attacks of hereditary ma- lady, so inveterate in the family of Bridgenorth. It needed not, perhaps, in other cases, that so many rea- sons should be assigned for an act of neighbourly hu- manity ; but civil war had so lately torn the country asunder, and broken all the usual ties of vicinage and good neighbourhood, that it was unusual to see them preserved among persons of different political opinions. Major Bridgenorth himself felt this ; and while the tear of joy in his eye showed how gladly he would accept Lady Peveril's proposal, he could not help sta- ting the obvious inconveniences attendant upon her scheme, though it was in the tone of one who would gladly hear them overruled. " Madam," he said, ''your kindness makes me the happiest and most thank- ful of men : but can it be consistent with your own convenience ? Sir Geoffrey has his opinions on many points, which have differed, and probably do still differ, from mine. He is high-born, and I of middling parent- age only. He uses the Church Service, and 1 the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 33 Catechism of the Assembly of Divines at Westmin- ster " "I hope pou will find prescribed in neither of them,'* said the Lady Peveril, " that I may not be a mother to your motherless child. I trust, Master Bridgenorth, the joyful Restoration of his Majesty, a work wrought by the direct hand of Providence, may be the means of closing and healing all civil and religious dissensions among us, and that, instead of showing the superior purity of our faith, by persecuting those who think otherwise ,from ourselves on doctrinal points, we will endeavour to show its real Christian tendency, by emu- lating each other in actions of good will towards man, as the best way of showing our love to God." " Your ladyship speaks what your own kind heart dictates," answered Bridgenorth, who had his own share of the narrow-mindedness of the time ; " and sure am I, that if all who call themselves loyalists and cavaliers, thought like you — and like my friend Sir Geoffrey — (this he added after a moment's pause, being perhaps rather complimentary than sincere) — we, who thought it our duty in time past to take arms for free- dom of conscience, and against arbitrary power, might now sit down in peace and contentment. But I wot not how it may fall. You have sharp and hot spirits among you ; I will not say our power was always mode- rately used, and revenge is sweet to the race of fallen Adam." "Come, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peve- ril, gayly, " these evil omenings do but point out con- clusions, which, unless they were so anticipated, are most unlikely to come to pass. You know what Shak^ =>peare says : ' To fly the boar before the boar pursues, Were to incense the boar to follow us, And make pursuits when he did mean no chase/ But I crave your pardon — it is so long since we have met, that I forgot you love no play books." "With reverence to your ladyship," said Bridge- north, " I were much to blame did I need the idle 34 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. words of a Warwickshire stroller, to teach me my grateful duty to your ladyship on this occasion, which appoints me to be directed by you in all things which my conscience will permit." u Since you permit me such influence, then," replied the Lady Peveril, %i I shall be moderate in exercising it, in order that I may, in my domination at least, give you a favourable impression of the new order of things. So, if you will be a subject of mine for one day, neigh- bour, 1 am going, at my lord and husband's command, to issue out my warrants to invite the whole neighbour- hood to a solemn feast at the Castle, upon Thursday next ; and I not only pray you to be personally present yourself, but to prevail on your worthy pastor, and such neighbours and friends, high and low, as may think in your own way to meet with the rest of the neighbour- hood, to rejoice on this joyful occasion of the King's Restoration, and thereby to show that we are to be henceforward a united people." The parliamentarian Major was considerably embar- rassed by this proposal. He looked upward, and downward, and around, cast his eye first to the oak- carved ceiling, and anon fixed it upon the floor; then drew it around the room till it lighted on his child, the sight of whom suggested another and a better train of reflections than ceiling and floor had been able to sup- " Madam," he said, " I have long been a stranger to festivity, perhaps from constitutional melancholy, per- haps from the depression which is natural to a desolate and deprived man, in whose ear mirth is marred, like a pleasant air when performed on a mistuned instrument. But though neither my thoughts nor temperament are jovial or mercurial, it becomes me to be grateful to Heaven for the good he has sent me by the means of your ladyship. David, the man after God's own heart, did wash and eat bread when his beloved child was re- moved — mine is restored to me, and shall I not show gratitude under a blessing, when he showed resignation under an affliction ? Madam, 1 will wait on your gracious invitation with acceptance ; and such of my friends PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 35. with whom I may possess influence, and whose pre- sence your ladyship may desire, shall accompany me to the festivity, that our Israel may be as one people." Having spoken these words with an aspect which be- longed more to a martyr than to a guest bidden to a festival, and having kissed, and solemnly blessed his little girl, Major Bridgenorth took his departure for Moultrassie Hall. CHAPTER III. Here's neither want of appetite nor mouths ; Pray Heaven we be not scant of meat of mirth ! Old Play. Even upon ordinary occasions, and where means were ample, agreatentertainment in those days was not such a sinecure as in modern times, when the lady who pre- sides has but to intimate to her menials the day and hour when she wills it to take place. At that simple period, the lady was expected to enter deeply into the arrangement and provision of the whole affair ; and from a little gallery, which communicated with her own pri- vate apartment, and looked down upon the kitchen, her shrill voice was to be heard, from time to time, like that of the warning spirit in a tempest, rising above the clash of pots and stew-pans — the creaking of spits— the clattering of marrow-bones and cleavers — the scold- ing of cooks — and all the other various kinds of din which form an accompaniment to the dressing a large dinner. But all this toil and anxiety was more than doubled in the case of the approaching feast at Martindale Cas- tle, where the presiding Genius of the festivity was scarce provided with adequate means to carry her hos- pitable purpese into effect. The tyrannical conduct of husbands, in such cases, is universal ; and I scarce know one householder of my acquaintance who has not, on some ill-omened and most inconvenient season. 36 PEVEBIL OF THE PEAK. announced suddenly to his innocent help-mate, that he had invited " Some odious Major Rock, To drop in at six o'clock," to the great discomposure of the lady, and the discredit perhaps of her domestic arrangements. Peveril of the Peak was still more thoughtless ; for he had directed his lady to invite the whole honest men of the neighbourhood to make good cheer at Martin- dak Castle, in honour of the blessed Restoration of his most Sacred Majesty, without precisely explaining where the provisions were to come from. The deer- park had lain waste ever since the siege ; the dove- cot could do little to furnish forth such an entertain- ment; the iish-ponds, it is true, were well provided, (which the neighbouring Presbyterians noted as a sus- picious circumstance ;) and game was to be had for the shooting, upon the extensive heaths and hills of Derby- shire. But these were but the secondary parts of a banquet ; and the house-steward and bailiff, Lady Pe- veril's only coadjutors and counsellors, could not agree how the butcher-meat — the most substantial part, or, as it were, the main body of the entertainment — was to be supplied. The house-steward threatened the sa- crifice of a fine yoke of young bullocks, which the bai- liff, who pleaded the necessity of their agricultural ser- vices, tenaciously resisted ; and Lady Peveril's good and dutiful nature did not prevent her from making some impatient reflections on the want of considera- tion of her absent Knight, who had thus thoughtlessly placed her in so embarrassing a situation. These reflections were scarcely just, if a man is only responsible for such resolutions as he adopts when he is fully master of himself. Sir Geoffrey's loyalty, like that of many persons in his situation, had, by dint of hopes and fears, victories and defeats, struggles and sufferings, ail arising out of the same moving cause, and turning, as it were, on the same pivot, acquired the character of an intense and enthusiastic passion ; and the singular and surprising change of fortune, by which his highest wishes were not only gratified, but far ex- PBVERIL OF THE PEAK. P? Ceeded, occasioned for some time a kind of drunken? Bess of loyal rapture, which seemed to pervade the whole kingdom. Sir Geoffrey had seen Charles and bis brothers, and had been received by the merry mo- aarch with that graceful, and at the same time frank, ur- banity by which he conciliated all who approached him ; the Knight's services and merits had been fully ac- knowledged, and recompense had been hinted at, if not expressly promised. Was it for Peveril of the Peak, in the jubilee of his spirits, to consider how his wife was to find beef and mutton to feast his neighbour? ? Luckily, however, for the embarrassed lady, theie existed some one who had composure of mind sufficient to foresee this difficulty. Just as she had made up her mind, very reluctantly, to become debtor to Major Bridgenorth for the sum necessary to carry her hus- band's commands into effect, and whilst she was bitterly regretting this departure from the strictness of her usual economy, the steward, who, by the by, had not been absolutely sober since the news of the King's landing at Dover, burst into the apartment, snapping his fingers, and showing more marks of delight than was quite con- sistent with the dignity of my lady's large parlour. "What means tills. Whitaker ?" said the lady, some- what peevishly ; for she was interrupted in the com- mencement of a letter to her neighbour on the unplea- sant business of the proposed loan, — " Is it to be always thus with you ? — Are you dreaming ?" ' ; A vision of good omen, I trust," said the steward. With a triumphant flourish of the hand ; "far better than Pharaoh's, though, like his. it be of fatkine." "J pr'ythee be plain, man," said the lady, "or fetch some one who can speak to purpose." " Why, odds-my-life, madaisj." said the steward, :i mine errand can speak for itself* Do you not hear them low ? Do you not h^ar them bleat ? A yoke of fat oxen, and half a score prime wethers. The castle is victualled for this bout, let them storm when they will ; and Gatherill may have his damned Mai'is ploughed to (he boot." The lady, without fur:her questioning her elated do.- VOL. I. tainly beheld the oxen and sheep which had given rise to Whitaker's exultation. " Whence come they ?" said she in some surprise. " Let them construe that who can," answered White* ker ; " the fellow who drove them was a west-country* man, and only said they came from a friend to help to furnish out your ladyship's entertainment ; the man would not stay to drink — -I am sorry he would not stay to drink — I crave your ladyship's pardon for not keeping him by the ears to drink — it was not my fault." " That I'll be sworn it was not," said the lady. " Nay, madam, by G — , I assure you it was not, 57 said the zealous steward; ;; for rather than the Castle should lose credit, 1 drank his health myself in double ale, though I had had my morning draught already. I tell you the naked truth, my lady, by G — ." " It was no great compulsion, 1 suppose," said the lady ; " but, Whitaker, suppose you should show your joy on such occasions, by drinking and swearing a little Jess, rather than a little more, would it not be as well* think you ?" u I crave your ladyship's pardon," said Whitaker, with much reverence ; " I hope I know my place. I am your ladyship's poor servant ; and I know it dees not become me to drink and swear like your ladyship — that is, like his honour, Sir Geoffrey, I would say. But I pray you, if I am not to drink and swear after my de- gree, how are men to know Pcveril of the Peak's stew- ard, — and I may say butler too, since 1 have had the keys of the cellar ever since old Spiggots was shot dead on the northwest turret, with a blackjack in his hand. < — I say, how is an old cavalier like me to be known from those cuckoldy Soundheads that do nothing but fast and pray, if we are not to drink and swear according to our degree ?" The lady was silent, for she well knew speech availed nothing ; and, after a moment's pause, proceeded to in- timate to the steward that she would have the persons, whose names were marked in a written paper, which she delivered to him, invited to the approaching ban- quet. PEVEItIL OF THE PEAK. S9 Whitaker, instead of receiving the list with the mute acquiescence of a modern Major Domo, carried it into the recess of one of the windows, and, adjusting his spec- tacles, began to read it to himself. The first names be- ing those of distinguished cavalier families in the neigh- bourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approbation — paused and pshawed at that of Bridgenorth— yet acqui- esced, with the observation, " But he is a good neigh- bour, so it may pass for once.'' But when he read the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the Presby- terian parson, Whitaker's patience altogether forsook him; and he declared he would as soon throw himself into Eldon-hole, as consent that the intrusive old puri- tan howlet, who had usurped the pulpit of a sound or- thodox divine, should ever darken the gates of Martin- dale Castle by any message or mediation of his. k * The false crop-eared hypocrites," cried he, with a hearty oath, " have had their turn of the good weather. The sun is on our side of the hedge now, and we will pay oft" old scores, as sure as my name is Richard Whitaker." u You presume on your long services, Whitaker, and- on your master's absence, or you had not dared to use me thus," said the lady. The unwonted agitation of her voice attracted the at- tention of the refractory steward, notwithstanding his present state of elevation ; but he no sooner saw that her eye glistened, and her cheek reddened, than his ob- stinacy was at once subdued. fct A murrain on me," he said, " but I have made my lady angry in good earnest ! and that is an unwonted sight for to see. — I crave your pardon, my lady ! It was not poor Dick Whitaker dis- puted your honourable commands, but only that second draught of double ale. We have put a double stroke of malt to it, as your ladyship well knows, ever since the happy Restoration. To be sure, 1 hate a fanatic as I do the cloven foot of Satan ; but then your honoura- ble ladyship hath a right to invite Satan himself, cloven foot and all to Martindale Castle ; and to send me to hell's-gate with a billet of invitation — and so your will ?hall be done." The invitations were sent round accordingly, in all 1$ FEVLTtlL OF THE FEAK, dine form; and one of the bullocks was sent down to be roasted whole at the market-place of a little village call- ed Martindale-Moultrassie, which stood considerably t© the eastward both of the Castle and Hall, from which it took its double name, at about an equal distance from 1)0 th ; so that suppose a line drawn from the one ma- nor-house to the other, to be the base of a triangle, the Village would have occupied the salient angle. As the said village, since the late transference of a part of Pe- veril's property, belonged to Sir Geoffrey and t© Bridgenorth, in nearly equal portions, the lady judged it not proper to dispute the right of the latter to add some hogsheads of beer to the popular festivity. In the meanwhile, she could not but suspect the Ma- jor of being the unknown friend who had relieved her from the dilemma arising from the want of provisions ; and she esteemed herself happy when a visit from him, on the day preceding the proposed entertainment, gave ; her, as she thought, an opportunity of expressing her gratitude. CHAPTER IV. No, sir — 1 wiil not pledge — I'm one of (hose Who think good wine needs neither bush nor preface- To make it welcome. If you doubt my word, Fill the quart-cup, and see if I will choke ou't. Old PIqjj There was a serious gravity of expression in the disclamation with which Major Bridgenorth replied to the thanks tendered to him by Lady Peveril, for the supply of provisions which had reached her Castle so opportunely. He seemed first not to be aware what she alluded to, and when she explained the circum* stance, he protested so seriously that he had no share in the benefit conferred, that Lady Peveril was compelled to believe him ; the rather that, being a man of a plain downright character, affecting no refined delicacy of sentiment, and practising.almost a quaker-like sincerity PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 4! of expression, it would have been much contrary to his general character to have made such a disavowal, un- less it were founded in truth. " My present visit to you, madam," said he, 4' had indeed some reference to the festivity of to-morrow.'* Lady Peveril listened, but as her visiter seemed to find some difficulty in expressing himself, she was com- pelled to ask an explanation. kk Madam," said the Major, " you are not perhaps entirely ignorant that the more tender-conscienced among us have scruples at cer- tain practices, so general among your people at times of rejoicing, that you may be said to insist upon them as articles of faith, or at least greatly to resent their omis- sion." " I trust, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, not fully comprehending the drift of his discourse, M that we shall, as your entertainers, carefully avoid all allusions or reproaches founded on past misunder- standing." M We would expect no less, madam, from your can- dour and courtesy," said Bridgenorth ; " but 1 perceive you do not fully understand me. To be plain, then, 1 allude to the fashion of drinking healths, and pledging each other in draughts of strong liquor, which most among us consider as a superfluous and sinful provoking of each other to debauchery, and the excessive use of strong drink ; and which, besides, if derived, as learned divines have supposed, from the custom of the blinded Pagans, who made libations and invoked idols when they drank, may be justly said to have something in it heathenish, and allied to demon-worship." The lady had already hastily considered all the topics which were likely to introduce discord into the proposed festivity, but this very ridiculous, yet fatal discrepancy, betwixt the manners of the parties on the convivial occasions, had entirely escaped her. She endeavour- ed to sooth the objecting party, whose brows were kni;. )ike one w*ho had fixed an opinion by which he was determined to abide. i; I grant," she said, " my good neighbour, that this custom is at least idle, and may De prejudicial if it 4* %£ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. leads to excess in the use of liquor, which is aptenougli to take place without such conversation. But I think, when it hath not this consequence, it is a thing indiffe- rent, affords an unanimous mode of expressing our good wishes to our friends, and our loyal duty to our sove- reign ; and, without meaning to put any force upon the inclination of those who believe otherwise, I cannot see how I can deny my guests and friends the privilege of drinking a health to the King, or to my husband, after tfte old English fashion." " My Lady," said the Major, " if the age of fashion were to commend it, Popery is one of the oldest Eng- lish fashions that I have heard of; but it is our happi- ness that we are not benighted like our fathers, and therefore we must act according to the light that is in US, and not after their darkness. I had myself the ho- ttourto attendthe Lord-KeeperWhitelocke, when,atthe table of the Chamberlain of the kingdom of Sweden, he did positively refuse to pledge the health of his Queen, Christiana, thereby giving great offence, and putting in peril the whole purpose of that voyage ; whicb it is not to be thought so wise a man would have done,, but that he held such compliance a thing not merely is different, but rather sinful and damnable. " "With all respect to Whitelocke," said the Lady Feveril, " I continue of my own opinion, though, heaven knows, I am no friend to riot or wassail. I would faia accommodate myself to your scruples, and will discour- age all other pledges ; but surely those of the King am! of Peveril of the Peak may be permitted." " I dare not," answered Bridgenorth, " lay even the ninety-ninth part of a grain of incense upon an altar erected to Satan." " How, Sir !" said the lady j " Do you bring Satau into comparison with our master King Charles, and with my noble lord and husband?" " Pardon me, madam," answered Bridgenorth, " 3 have no such thoughts — indeed they would ill become me. 1 do wish the King's health and Sir Geoffrey's de- voutly, and I will pray for both. But 1 see not what ^ood it should do their health if I should prejudice i©t own by quaffing pledges out of quart flaggons*" PEVBRIL OP THE PEAK. 43 :i Since we cannot agree upon this matter," said Lady Peveril, " we must find some resource by which to of- fend those of neither party. Suppose you winked at our friends drinking these pledges, and we should con nive at your sitting still ?" But neither would this composition satisfy Bridge north, who was of opinion, as he expressed himself, that it would be holding a candle to Belzebub. In fact, his temper, naturally stubborn, was at present rendered much more so by a previous conference with his preach- er, who, though a very good man in the main, was par- ticularly and illiberally tenacious of the petty distinc* tions which his sect adopted ; and while he thought with considerable apprehension on the accession of power which Popery, Prelacy, and Peveril of the Peak, were like to acquire by the late Revolution, became naturally anxious to put his flock on their guard, and prevent their being kidnapped by the wolf. He disliked ex- tremely that Major Bridgenorth, indisputably the head of the Presbyterian interest in that neighbourhood, should have given his only daughter to be, as he termed it, nursed by a Canaauitish woman ; and he told him plainly that he liked not this going to feast in the high places with the uncircumcised in heart, and looked on the whole conviviality only as a making merry in the house of Tirzah. Upon receiving this rebuke from his pastor, Bridge* north began to suspect he might have been partly wrong in the readiness which, in his first ardour of gratitude, he had shown to enter into intimate intercourse with the Castle of Martindale ; but he was too proud to avow this to the preacher, and it was not till after a considerable debate betwixt them, that it was mutually agreed their presence at the entertainment should de pend upon the condition, that no healths or pledges should be given in their presence. Bridgenorth, there- fore, as the delegate and representative of his party- Was bound to stand firm against all entreaty, and the lady became greatly embarrassed. She now regretted sincerely that her well-intended invitation had ever freen given, for she foresaw that its rejection was t$ 44 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. awaken all former subjects of quarrel, and perhaps tti lead to new violences among people who had not many years since been engaged in civil war. To yield up the disputed point to the Presbyterians, would have been to offend the Cavalier party, and Sir Geoffrey in particular, in the most mortal degree ; for they made it as firm a point of honour to give healths, and compel others to pledge them, as the Puritans made it a deep article of religion to refuse both. At length the lady changed the discourse, introduced that of Major Bridge- north's child, caused it to be sent for, and put into his arms. The mother's stratagem took effect ; for, though the parliamentarian Major stood firm, the father, as in the case of the Governor of Tilbury, was softened, and he agreed that his friends should accept a compro- mise. This was, that the Major himself, the reverend divine, and such of their friends as held strict Puritan tenets, should form a separate party in the Large Par- lour, while the Ha!l should be occupied by the jovial Cavaliers ; and that each party should regulate their potations after their own conscience, or after their own fashion. Major Bridgenorth himself seemed greatly relieved after this important matter had been settled. He had held it matter of conscience to be stubborn in maintain- ing his own opinion, but was heartily glad when he escaped from the apparently inevitable necessity of affronting Lady Peveril, by the refusal of her invitation. He remained longer than usual, and spoke and smiled more than was his customs His first care, on his re- turn, was to announce to the clergyman and his congre- gation the compromise which he had made, and this not as a matter for deliberation, but one upon which he had already resolved ; and such was his authority among them, that though the preacher longed to pro- nounce a separation of the parties, and to exclaim— ;: To your tents. O Israel I" he did not see the chance of being seconded by so many, as would make it worth while to disturb the unanimous acquiescence in their delegate's proposal. Nevertheless, each party being put upon the alert by the consequences of Major Bridgenorth's embassy. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 45 so many points of doubt and delicate discussion were started in succession, that the Lady Peveril, the only person, perhaps, who was desirous of achieving an effectual reconciliation between them, incurred, in re* ward for her good intentions, the censure of both fac- tions, and had much reason to regret her well meant project of bringing the Capulets and Montagues of Derbyshire together on the same occasion of public festivity. As it was now settled that the guests were to form two different parties, it became not only a subject of dispute betwixt themselves, which should be first ad- mitted within the Castle of Martindale, but matter of serious apprehension to Lady Peveril and Major Bridge- north, lest, if they were to approach by the same ave» fiue and entrance, a quarrel might take place betwixt them, and proceed to extremities, even before they ceached the place of entertainment. The lady belie- ved she had discovered an admirable expedient for pre- venting the possibility of such interference, by direct- ing that the cavaliers should be admitted bv the princi- pal entrance, while the Roundheads should enter the Castle through a great breach which had been made in the course of the -iege, and across which there had been since made a sort of by-path to drive the cattle down to their pasture in the wood. By this contrivance the Lady Peveril imagined she had altogether avoided the various risks which might occur from two such par* ties encountering each other, and disputing for prece- dence. Several other circumstances of less importance were adjusted at the same time, and apparently so much to the satisfaction of the Presbyterian teacher, that, in a long lecture on the subject of the Marriage Garment- he was at the pains to explain to his hearers, that out- ward apparel was not alone meant by that scriptural expression, but also a suitable frame of mind for enjoy* ment of peaceful festivity ; and, therefore, he exhorted the brethren, that whatever might be the errors of the poor blinded malignants, with whom they were in some sort to eat and drink upon the morrow, they ought not on this occasion to show any evil will against them, lest 16 FEVERIL OF THE PEAK. they should therein become troublers of the peace oi Israel. Honest Doctor Dummerar, the ejected Episcopal Vicar of Martindale cum Moultrassie, preached to the Cavaliers on the same subject. He had served the cure before the breaking out of the Rebellion, and was in high favour with Sir Geoffrey, not merely on account oi his sound orthodoxy and deep learning, but his exqui- site skill in placing at bowls, and his facetious conver- sation over a pipe and tankard of October. For these latter accomplishments, the Doctor had the honour to he recorded by old Century White amongst the roll oi lewd, incompetent, profligate clergymen of the Church of England, whom he denounced to God and man, on account chiefly of the heinous sin of playing at games of skill and chance, and of joining in the social meet- ings of their parishioners. When the King's part} began to lose ground, Doctor Dummerar left his vicar- age, and, betaking himself to the camp, showed upor: several occasions, when acting as Chaplain to Sir Geof- frey Peveril's regiment, that his portly bodily presence included a stout and masculine heart. When all was lost, and he himself, with most other loyal divines, was deprived of his living, he made such shift as he could; now lurking in the garrets of old friends in the Univer- sity, who shared with him, and such as him, the slender means of livelihood which the evil times had left them : and now lying hid in the houses of the oppressed and sequestrated gentry, who respected at once his charac- ter and sufferings, When the Restoration took place. Doctor Dummerar emerged from some one of his hiding places, and hied him to Martindale Castle, to enjoy the triumph inseparable from this happy change. His appearance at the Castle in his full clerical dress, and the warm reception which he received from the neighbouring gentry, added not a little to the alarm which was gradually extending itself through the party which were so lately the uppermost. It is true Doctor Dummerar framed, (honest, worthy man.) no extrava- gant views of elevation or preferment ; but the proba^ bility of his being replaced in the living, from which he PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 47 uad been expelled under very flimsy pretences, inferred a severe blow to the Presbyterian divine, who could not be considered otherwise than as an intruder. The interest of the two preachers, therefore, as well as the sentiments of their nocks, were at direct variance ; and here was another fatal objection in the way of Lady Peveril's scheme of a general and comprehensive heal- ing ordinance. Nevertheless, as we have already hinted, Doctor Dummerar behaved as handsomely upon the occasion as the Presbyterian incumbent had done. It is true, that in a sermon which he preached in the Castle hall to several of the most distinguished cavalier families, besides a world of boys from the village, who went to see the novel circumstar.ee of a parson i'n a cossackand surplice, he went at great length into the foulness of the various crimes committed by trie rebellious party during the late evil times, and greatly magnified the merciful and peaceful nature of the honourable Lady of the Manor, who condescended to look upon, or receive into her house in the way of friendship and hospitality, men holding the principles which had led to the nvur- ther of the King — the slaying and despoiling his loyal subjects — and the plundering and breaking down of the Church of God. But then he wiped all this handsome- ly up again with the observation, that since it was the will of their gracious and newly-restored sovereign, and the pleasure of the worshipful Lady Peveril, that this contumacious and rebellious race should be, for a time. forborne by their faithful subjects, it would be highly- proper that all the loyal liegemen should, for the pre- sent, eschew subjects of dissension or quarrel with these -ons of Shimei ; which lesson of patience he enforced by the comfortable assurance, that they could not long abstain from their old rebellious practices ; in which case the royalists would stand exculpated before God Mild man in extirpating them from t\\c face of the earth. The close observer? of the remarkable passages of the times, from which we draw the events of our his- tory, have left it upon record, that these two several sermons, much contrary, doubtless, to the intention o{ 48 PEVEEIL OP THE PEAK* ine worthy divines by whom they were delivered, hatl' a greater effect in exasperating than in composing the disputes betwixt the two factions. Under such evil auspices, and with corresponding forebodings on the mind of Lady Peveril, the day of festivity at length arrived. By different routes, and forming each a sort of pro- cession, as if the adherents of each party were desirous of exhibiting its strength and numbers, the two different factions approached Martindale Castle ; and so different did they seem in dress, aspect, and manners, that it seemed as if the revellers of a bridal party, and the sad attendants upon a funeral solemnity, were moving to- wards the same point from different quarters. The Puritanical party was by far the fewer in num- bers, for which two excellent reasons might be given. In the first place, they had enjoyed power for several years, and, of course, became unpopular among the common people, never at any time attached to those, who, being in the immediate possession of authority, are often obliged to employ it in controlling their hu- mours. Besides, the country people of England had^ and still have, an animated attachment to field sports^ and a natural unrestrained joviality of disposition, which rendered them impatient under the severe discipline of the fanatical preachers ; and were not less naturally discontented with the military despotism of Cromwell's major-generais. Secondly, the people were fickle as Usual, and the return of the King had novelty in it, and was therefore popular. The side of the Puritans was also deserted at this period by a numerous class of more thinking and prudential persons, who never for- sook them till they became unfortunate. These saga- cious personages were called in that age the Waiters upon Providence, and deemed it a high delinquency towards heaven if they afforded countenance to any cause longer than it was favoured by fortune. But, though thus forsaken by the fickle and the selfish, a solemn enthusiasm, a stern and determined depth of principle, a confidence in the sincerity of their owb motives, and the manly English pride which inclined PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* 49 them to cling to their former opinions, like the travel- ler in the fable to his cloak, the more strongly that the tempest blew around them, detained in the ranks of the Puritans many, who, if no longer formidable from num- bers, were still so from their character. They con- sisted chiefly of the middling gentry, with others 'whom industry or successful speculations in commerce or in mining had raised into eminence — the persons who feel most umbrage from the overshadowing aristocracy, and are usually the most vehement in defence of what they hold to be their rights. Their dress was in general studiously simple and unostentatious, or only remark- able by the contradictory affectation of extreme sim- plicity or carelessness. The dark colour of their cloaks, varying from absolute black to what was called sad- coloured, — their steeple-crowned hats, with their broad shadowy brims. — their long swords, suspended by a simple strap around the loins, without shoulder-belt, sword-knot, plate, buckles, or any of the other decora- tions with which the cavaliers loved to adorn their trusty rapiers, — the shortness of their hair, which made their ears appear of disproportioned size, — above all. the stern and gloomy gravity of their looks, announced their belonging to that class of enthusiasts, who, reso- lute and undismayed, had cast down the former fabric of government, and who now regarded with somewhat more than suspicion that which had been so unexpect- edly substituted in its stead. There was gloom in their countenances, but it was not that of dejection, fai less of despair. They looked like veterans after a de- feat, which may have checked their career and wound- ed their pride, but has left their courage undiminished* The melancholy, now become habitual, which over- cast Major Bridgenorth's countenance, well qualified him to act as the chief of the group who now advanced from the village. When they reached the point by which they were first to turn aside into the woods which surrounded the Castle, they felt a momentary impres- sion of degradation, as if they were yielding the high road to their old and oft-defeated enemies the Cavaliers. When they began to ascend the winding path, which vol. i. 60 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. had been the daily passage of the cattle, the opening of the wooded glade gave them a view of the castle-ditch, half choked with the rubbish of the breach, and of fe the breach itself, which was made at the angle of a large square flanking-tower, one half of which had been bat- tered into ruins, while the other fragment remained in a state strangely shattered and precarious, and seemed to be tottering above the huge aperture in the wall. A stern still smile was exchanged among the Puritans, as the sight reminded them of the victories of former days. Holdfast Clegg, a millwright of Derby, who had been himself active at the siege, pointed to the breach, and said, with a grim smile to Mr. Solsgrace, "I little thought, that when my own hand helped to level the cannon which Oliver pointed against yon tower, we should have been obliged to climb like foxes up the very walls which we won by our bow and by our spear. Methought these malignants had then enough of shut- ting their gates and making high their horn against us." " Be patient, my brother," said Solsgrace ; " be patient, and let not thy soul be disquieted. We enter not this high place dishonourably, seeing we ascend by the gate which the Lord opened to the godly.' 5 The words of the pastor were like a spark to gun- powder. The countenances of the mournful retinue suddenly expanded, and, accepting what had fallen from him as an omen and a light from heaven how they were to interpret their present situation, they uplifted, with one consent, one of the triumphant songs in which the Israelites celebrated the victories which had been vouch- safed to them over the heathen inhabitants of the Pro- mised Land. — u Let God arise, and then bis foes Shall turn themselves to flight, His enemies for fear shall run, And scatter out of sight j M And as wax melts before the fire, And wind blows smoke away, So in the presence of the Lord, The wicked shall decay. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 51 • : God's army twenty thousand \s : Of angels bright and strong, The Lord also in Sinai, Is present them among. 11 Thou didst, Lord, ascend on high,. And captive ledst them all, Who, in times past, thy chosen flock In bondage did enthral." These sounds of devotional triumph reached the joyous band of the Cavaliers, who, decked in whatever pomp their repeated misfortunes and impoverishment had left them, were moving towards the same point, though by a different road, and were filling the principal avenue to the Castle, with tiptoe mirth and revelry. The two parties were strongly contrasted ; for, during that period of civil dissension, the manners of the different factions distinguished them as completely as separate uniforms might have done. If the Puritan was affectedly plain in his dress, and ridiculously precise in his manners, the Cavalier often carried his love of ornament into tawdrv finery, and his contempt of hypocrisy into licentious profligacy. Gay gallant fellows, young and old, throng- ed together towards the ancient Castle, with general and joyous manifestation of those spirits, which, as they had been buoyant enough to support their owners during the worst of times, as they termed Oliver's .usurpation, were so inflated as to transport them nearly beyond the reach of sober reason. Feathers waved, lace glittered, spears jingled, steeds caracoled ; and here and there a petronel, or pistol, was fired off by some who found his own natural talents for making a noise inadequate to the dignity of the occasion. Boys, — for, as we said before, the rabble were with the uppermost party, as usual, — hallooed and whooped, " Down with the Rump," and " Fie upon Oliver!" Musical instruments, of a3 many different fashions as were then in use, play- ed all at once, and without any regard to each other's tune ; and the glee of the occasion, while it reconciled the pride of the high-born of the party to fraternize with the general route, derived an additional zest from j2 peveril of the peak. the conscious triumph, that their exultation was heard by their neighbours, the crest-fallen Roundheads. When the loud and sonorous swell of the psalm-tune, multiplied by all the echoes of the cliffs and ruinous halls, came full upon their ear, as if to warn them how little thej were to reckon upon the depression of their adversaries, at first it was answered with a scornful laugh, raised to as much height as the scoffers' lungs would permit, in order that it might carry to the psalmo- dists the contempt of their auditors ; but this was a forced exertion of party spleen. There is something in melancholy feelings more natural to an imperfect and suffering state than in those of gayety, and when they are brought into collision, the former seldom fail to tri- umph. If a funeral-train and wedding-procession were to meet unexpectedly, it will readily be allowed that the mirth of the last would be speedily merged in the gloom of the others. But the Cavaliers, moreover, had sympathies of a different kind. The psalm-tune, which now came rolling on their ear, had been heard too often, and upon too many occasions had preceded victory gained over the malignants, to permit them, even in their triumph, to hear it without emotion. There was a sort of pause, of which the party them- selves seemed rather ashamed, until the silence was broken by the stout old knight, Sir Jasper Cranbourne. whose gallantry was so universally acknowledged, that he could afford, if we may use such an expression, to confess emotions, which men whose courage was in any respect liable to suspicion, would have thought it im- prudent to acknowledge. " Adad," said the old knight, " may I never taste cla- ret again, if that is not the very tune with which the prick-eared villains began their onset at Wiggan-lane. where they trowled us down like so many skittle nine- pins ! Faith, neighbours, to say truth, and shame the de- vil, I did not like the sound of it above half.'' " If I thought the roundheaded rogues did it in scorn of us," said Dick Wildblood of the Dale, " I would cud- gel their psalmody out of their peasantry throats with this very truncheon ;-' a motion which, being seconded PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. DO by old Roger Raine, the drunken tapster of the Peve- ril-arms in the village, might have brought on a gene- ral battle, but that Sir Jasper forbade the feud. " We'll have no ranting, Dick, said the old Knight to the young Franklin 5 " adad, man, we'll have none, for three reasons ; first, because it would be ungentle to Lady Peveril ; then, because it is against the King's peace ; and, lastly, Dick, because if we did set on the psalm-singingknaves, thou mightest come by the worst, my boy, as has chanced to thee before.'' " Who, 1 ! Sir Jasper?" answered Dick — " 1 come by the worst ! — I'll be d — d if it ever happened but in that accursed lane, where we had no more flank, front or rear, than if we had been so many herrings in a bar* rel." " That was the reason, I fancy," answered Sir Jasper, " that you, to mend the matter, scrambled into the hedge and stuck there, horse and man, till I beat thee through it with my leading staff; and then, instead of charging to the front, you went right-about, and away as fast as your feet could carry you." This reminiscence produced a laugh at Dick's ex- pense, who was known, or at least suspected, to have more tongue in his head than mettle in his bosom. And this sort of rallying on the part of the knight having fortunately abated the resentment which had begun to awaken in the breasts of the royalist cavalcade, further cause for offence was removed, by the sudden ceasing of the sounds which they had been disposed to interpret into those of premeditated insult. This was owing to the arrival of the Puritans at the bottom of the large and wide breach, which had been formerly made in the wall of the castle by their victori- ous cannon. The sight of its gaping heaps of rubbish, and disjointed masses of building, up which slowly winded a narrow and steep path, such as is made amongst ancient ruins by the rare passage of those who occasionally visit them, was calculated, when con- trasted with the gray and solid massiveness of the towers and curtains which yet stood uninjured, to remind them of their victory over the stronghold of their enemies 5* Sj4 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. and how they had bound nobles and princes with fet- ters of iron. But feelings more suitable to the purpose of their visit to Martindale Castle, were awakened *in the bosoms even of these stern sectaries, when the Lady of the Castle, still in the very prime of beauty and of womanhood, appeared at the top of the breach with her principal female attendants, to receive her guests with the honour and courtesy becoming her invitation. She had laid aside the black dress which hac been her sole attire for several years, and was arrayed with a splen- dour not unbecoming her higjh descent and quality. Jewels, indeed, she had none ; but her long and dark hair was surmounted with a chaplet made of oak-leaves, interspersed with lilies; the former being the emblem of the King's preservation in the royal Oak, and the latter, of his happy Restoration. What rendered her presence still more interesting to those who looked on her, was the presence of the two children whom she held in either hand ; one of whom was well known to them all to be the child of their leader, Major Bridge* north, who had been restored to life and health by the almost maternal care of the Lady Peveril. If even the inferior persons of the party felt the heal- ing influence of her presence, thus accompanied, poor Bridgenorth was almost overwhelmed with it. The strictness of his cast and manners permitted him not to sink on his knee, and kiss the hand which held his little orphan ; but the deepness of his obeisance — the falter- ing tremor of his voice — and the glistening of his eye. showed a grateful respect for the lady whom he ad- dressed — deeper and more reverential than could have been expressed even by Persian prostration. A few courteous and mild words, expressive of the pleasure she found in once more seeing her neighbours as her friends — a few kind inquiries, addressed to the princi- pal individuals among her guests, concerning their fa- milies and connexions, completed her triumph over angry thoughts and dangerous recollections, and dis- posed men's bosoms to sympathize with the purposes of the meeting. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 55 Even Solsgrace himself, although imagining himself bound by his office and duty to watch over and coun- teract the wiles of the " Amalekitish woman," did not escape the sympathetic infection ; being so much struck with the marks of peace and good will exhibited by Lady Peveril, that he immediately raised the psalm, " O what a happy thing it is, And joyful for to see Brethren to dwell together in Friendship and unity." Accepting this salutation as a mark of courtesy, re-r paid, Lady Peveril marshalled in person this party of her guests to the apartment, where ample good cheer was provided for them ; and had even the patience to remain while master Nehemiah Solsgrace pronounced a benediction of portentous length, as an introduction to the banquet. Her presence was in some measure a restraint on the worthy divine, whose prolusion lasted the longer, and was the more intricate and embarrassed, that he felt himself debarred from rounding it off by his usual alliterative petition for deliverance from Po- pery, Prelacy, and Peveril of the Peak, which had become so habitual to him, that after various attempts to conclude with some other form of words, he found himself at last obliged to pronounce the first words of his usual formula aloud, and mutter the rest in such a manner as not to be intelligible even by those who stood nearest to him. The minister's silence was followed by all the various sounds which announce the onset of a hungry company on a well-furnished table ; and at the same time gave the lady an opportunity to leave the apartment, and look to the accommodation of her other company. She felt, indeed, that it was high time to do so ; and that the royalist guests might be disposed to misapprehend, or even to resent, the prior attentions which she had thought it prudent to offer to the Puritans. These apprehensions were not altogether ill-founded. It was in vain that the steward had displayed the royal standard, with its proud motto of Tandem Triumphans, 56 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. on one of the great towers which flanked the main en- trance of the Castle ; while, from the other, floated the banner of Peveril of the Peak, under which many of those who now approached had fought during all the vicissitudes of civil war. It was in vain he repeated his clamorous — Welcome, noble cavaliers ! welcome, generous gentlemen ! There was a slight murmur amongst them, that their welcome ought to have come from the mouth of the Colonel's lady — not from that of a menial. Sir Jasper Cranbourne, who had sense as well as spirit and courage, and who was aware of his fair cousin's motives, having been indeed consulted by her upon all the arrangements which she had adopted, saw matters were in such a state that no time ought to be lost in conducting the guests to the banqueting apart- ment, where a fortunate diversion from all these topics of rising discontent might be made, at the expense of the good cheer of all sorts, which the lady's care had so liberally provided. The stratagem of the old soldier succeeded in its ut- most extent. He assumed the great oaken chair usually occupied by the steward at his audits ; and Dr. Dum- merar having pronounced a brief Latin benediction, (which was not the less esteemed by the hearers that none of them understood it,) Sir Jasper exhorted the company to whet their appetites to the dinner by a brimming cup to his Majesty's health, filled as high and as deep as their goblets would permit. In a moment all was bustle, with the clang of winecups and of fla- gons. In another moment the guests were on their feet, like so many statues, all hushed as death, but with eyes glancing with expectation, and hands outstretched, which displayed their loyal brimmers. The voice of Sir Jasper, clear,, sonorous, and emphatic, as the sound of his war-trumpet, announced the health of the resto- red Monarch, hastily echoed back by the assemblage, impatient to render it due homage. Another brief pause was filled by the draining of their cups, and the mustering breath to join in a shout so loud, that not on- ly the rafters of the old hall trembled while they echoed it back, but the garlands of oaken boughs and flower* PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 57 with which they were decorated, waved wildly, and rus- tled as if agitated by a sudden whirlwind. This rite observed, the company proceeded to assail the good cheer with which the table groaned, animated as they were to the attack both by mirth and melody, for they were attended by all the minstrels of the district, who, like the Episcopal clergy, had been put to silence du- ring the reign of the self-entitled saints of the Common- wealth. The social occupation of good eating and drinking, the exchange of pledges betwixt old neigh- bours who had been fellow-soldiers in the moment of re- sistance — fellow-sufferers in the time of depression and subjugation, andw r ere now partners in the same general subject of congratulation, soon wiped from their me- mory the trifling cause of complaint, which in the minds of some had darkened the festivity of the day; so that when the Lady Peveril walked into the hall, accompa- nied as before with the children and her female attend- ants, she was welcomed with the acclamations due to the mistress of the banquet and of the Castle — the dame of the noble Knight, who had led most of them to battle with an undaunted and persevering valour, which was worthy of better saccess. Her address to them was brief and matronly, yet spo- ken with so much feeling as found its way to every bo- som. She apologized for the lateness of her personal welcome, by reminding them that there were then pre- sent in Martindale Castle that day, persons whom re- cent happy events had converted from enemies into friends, but on whom the latter character was so recent- ly imposed, that she dared not neglect with them any point of ceremonial. But those whom she now ad- dressed, were the best, the dearest, the most faithful friends of her husband's house, to whom and to their valour Peveril had not only owed those successes which had given them and him fame during the lately unhappy times, but to whose courage she in particular had owed the preservation of their leader's life, even when it could not avert defeat. A word or two of heartfelt congratulation on the happy restoration of the royal line and authority, completed all which she had bold* 58 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ness to add, and bowing gracefully round her, she lifted a cup to her lips as if to welcome her guests. There still remained, and especially among the old Cavaliers of the period, some glimmering of that spirit which inspired Froissart, when he declares that a Knight hath double courage at need, when animated by the looks and words of a beautiful and virtuous wo- man. It was not until the reign which was commen- cing at the moment we are treating of, that the un- bounded license of the age introducing a general course of profligacy, degraded the female sex into mere ser- vants of pleasure, and, in so doing, deprived society of that noble tone of feeling towards the sex, which, con- sidered as a spur to " raise the clear spirit," is supe- rior to every other impulse save those of religion and of patriotism. The beams of the ancient half of Mar- tindale Castle instantly rung with a shout louder and shriller than that at which they had so lately trembled, and the names of the Knight of the Peak and his lady were proclaimed amid waving of caps and hats, and universal wishes for their health and happiness. Under these auspices the Lady Peveril glided from the hall, and left free space -for the revelry of the evening. That of the Cavaliers may be easily conceived, since it had the usual accompaniments of singing, jesting, quaffing of healths, and playing of tunes, which have in almost every age and quarter of the world been the accompaniments of festive cheer. The enjoyments of the Puritans were of a different and less noisy charac- ter. They neither sung, jested, heard music, nor drunk healths ; and yet they seemed not the less, in their own phrase, to enjoy the creature comforts which the frailty of humanity rendered grateful to their outward man. Old Whitaker even protested, that though much the smaller party in point of numbers, they discussed near- ly as much sack and claret as his own more jovial asso- ciates. But those who considered the steward's pre- judices, were inclined to think, that in order to pro- duce such a result, he must have thrown in his own by-drinkings — no inconsiderable item — into the sum total of the Presbyterian potations. PEVERJL OP THE PEAK. 59 Without adopting such a partial and scandalous re- port, we shall only say, that on this occasion, as on most others, the rareness of indulgence promoted the sense of enjoyment, and that those who made abstinence, or at least moderation, a point of religious principle, en- joyed their social meeting the better that such opportu- nities rarely presented themselves. If they did not ac- tually drink each other's healths, they at last showed, by looking and nodding to each other as they raised their glasses, that they all were sharing the same festive gra- tification of the appetite, and felt it enhanced, because it was at the same time enjoyed by their friends and neighbours. Religion, as it was the principal topic of their thoughts, became also the chief subject of their conversation, and as they sate together in small sepa- rate knots, they discussed doctrinal and metaphysical points of belief, balanced the merits of various preach- ers, compared the creeds of contending sects, and forti- fied by scriptural quotations those which they favoured. Some contests arose in the course of these debates, which might have proceeded farther than was seemly, but for the cautious interference of Major Bridgenorth. He suppressed, also, in the very bud, a dispute betwixt Gaffer Hodgeson of Charnelycot and the Reverend Mr. Solsgrace, upon the tender subject of lay-preaching and lay-ministering; nor did he think it altogether prudent or decent to indulge the wishes of some of the warmer enthusiasts of the party, who felt disposed to make the rest partakers of their gifts in extemporaneous prayer and exposition. These were absurdities that belonged to the time, which, however, the Major had sense enough to perceive were unfitted, whether the offspring of hy- pocrisy or enthusiasm, for the present time and place. The Major was also instrumental in breaking up the party at an early and decorous hour, so that they left the Castle long before their rivals, the Cavaliers, had reached the spring-tide of their merriment ; an arrange- ment which afforded the greatest satisfaction to the la- dy, who dreaded the consequences which might not improbably have taken place, had both partiesmet at the same period and point of retreat. CO PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. It was near midnight ere the greater part of the Ca- valiers, meaning such as were able to effect their de- parture without assistance, withdrew to the village of Martindale-Moultrassie, with* the benefit of the broad moon, to prevent the chance of accidents. Their shouts, and the burthen of their roaring chorus of — " The King shall enjoy his own again !" was heard with no small pleasure by the lady, heartily glad that the riot of the day was over without the occur- rence of any upleasant accident. The rejoicing was not, however, entirely ended ; for the elevated Cava- liers, finding some of the villagers still on foot around a bonfire in the street, struck merrily in with them — sent to Roger Raine of the Peveril Arms, the loyal publican whom we have already mentioned, for two tubs of merry stingo, (as it was termed.) and lent their own powerful assistance in dusting it off to the health of the King and the loyal General Moncke. Their shouts for a long time disturbed, and even alarmed the village, but no enthusiasm is able to withstand for ever the na- tural consequences of late hours, and potations pottle- deep. The tumult of the exulting royalists at last sunk into silence, and the moon and the owl were left in un- disturbed sovereignty over the old tower of the village church, which, rising white above a circle of knotty oaks, was tenanted by the bird, and silvered by the planet, CHAPTER V. Twas when they raised, 'mid sap and siege. The banners of their rightful liege, At their she-captain's call, Who, miracle of woman-kind, Lent metal to the meanest hind That mann'd her castle wall. William S. Boxe. On the morning succeeding the feast, the Lady Pe- veril, fatigued with the exertions and the apprehensions of the former day, kept her apartment for two or three PKVERIL OF THE PEAK. 6: hours later than her own active habits and the matuti nal custom of the time rendered usual. Meanwhile, mistress Ellesmere, a person of great trust in the fami- ly, and who assumed much authority in her mistress's absence, laid her orders upon Deborah, the governante, immediately to carry the children to their airing in the park, and not to let any one enter the gilded chamber, which was usually their sporting-place. Deborah, who often rebelled, and sometimes successfully, against the deputed authority of Ellesmere, privatel} resolved that it was about to rain, and that the gilded chamber was a more suitable place for the children's exercise than the wet grass of the park on a raw morning. But a woman's brain is sometimes as inconstant as a popular assembly ; and presently after she bad voted he morning *as like to be rainy, and that the gilded chamber was the fittest play -room for the children, Mis- tress Deborah came to the somewhat inconsistent reso- lution, that the park was the fittest place for her own morning walk. It is certain, that during the unrestrain- ed joviality of the preceding evening, she had danced till midnight with Launce Outram, the park-keeper ; but how far the seeing him just pass the window in his woodland 'rim, with a feather in his hat, and a cross bow under his arm, influenced the discrepancy of the opinions Mistress Deborah f rmed concerning the wea- ther, we are far from presuming a guess. It is enough for us, that, so soon as Mistress Ellesmere's back was turned, Mistress Deborah turned the children into the gilded chamber, not without a strict charge (for we must do her justice) to master Julian to take care of his little wife, mistress Alice; and then, having taken so sa- tisfactory a precaution, she herself glided into the park by the glass-door of the still-room, which was nearly- opposite to the great breach. The gilded chamber in which the children were, by this arrangement, left to amuse themselves, without bet* ter guardianship than what Julian's manhood afforded, was a large apartment, hung with stamped Spanish lea- ther, curiously gilded, representing, in a manner now obsolete, but far from unpleasing, a series of tilts acd vol. i. 6 62 PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK. combats betwixt the Saracens of Grenada, and the Spa- niards under (he command of King Ferdinand and Qeeen Isabella, during that memorable siege, which was terminated by the overthrow of the last fragments of the Moorish empire in Spain. The little Julian was careering about the room or the amusement of his infant friend, as well as his own. mimicking with a reed the menacing attitude of the Abencerrages and Zegris engaged in the eastern sport of hurling the jerid, or javelin ; and at f imes sitting down beside her, and caressing her into silence and good humour, when the petulant or timid child chose to become tired of remaining an inactive spectator of his boisterous sport ; when, on a sudden, he observed one of *he pannelled compartments of the leather hangings slide apart, so as to show a fair band, with its fingers resting upon its edge, prepared, it would seem, to push it still farther back. Julian was much surprised ; and somewhat frightened at what he witnessed, for the tales of the nursery had strongly impressed on his mind the terrors of the invisible world. Yet, naturally bold and high-spirited, the little champion placed himself beside his defenceless sister, continuing to brandish his weapon in her defence, as boldly as if he had himself been an Abencerrage of Grenada. The pannel, on which his eye was fixed, gradually continued to slide back, and display more and more of the form to which the hand appertained, until, in the dark aperture which was disclosed, the children saw the figure of a lady in a mourning dress, past the meridian of life, but whose countenance still retained traces of great beauty, although the predominant character both of her features and person was an air of almost royal dignity. After pausing a moment on the threshold of the portal which she had thus unexpectedly disclosed, and looking with some surprise at the children, whom she had not probably observed while engaged with the management of the pannel, the stranger stepped into the apartment, and the pannel, upon a touch of a spring, closed behind her so suddenly, that Julian almost doubled il had ever been open, and began to apprehend that the whole ap parition had been a delusion. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 63 The stately lady, however, advanced to him, and said, " Are not you the little Peveril ?" "Yes," said the boy, reddening, not altogether with- out a juvenile feeling of that rule of chivalry which for- bade any one to disown his name, whatever danger might be annexed to the avowal of it. " Then," said the stately stranger, u go to your mo- ther's room, and tell her to come instantly to speak with me." " I wo'not," said the little Julian. "How:" said the lady. — " so young and so disobedi- ent ? — but you do but follow the fashion of the time. Why will yuu not go, my pretty boy, when I ask it of you as a favour r" " I would go, madam," said the boy, " but" — and he stopped short, still drawing back as the lady advanced on him, but still holding by the hand Alice Bridgenorth, who, too young to understand the nature of the dialogue, clung, trembling, to her companion. The stranger saw his embarrassment, smiled, and re- mained standing fast, while she asked the child once more, " What are you afraid of, my brave boy — and why should you not go to your mother on my errand ?" "Because," answered Julian, firmly, "if I go, little Alice must stay alone with you." " You are a gallant fellow," said the lady, "and will not disgrace your blood, which never left the weak with- out protection." The boy understood her not, and still gazed with anx- ious apprehension, first on her who addressed him, and then upon his little companion, whose eyes, with the vacant glance of infancy, wandered from the figure ot the lady to that of her companion and protector, and, at length, infected by a portion of the fear which the latter's magnanimous eiforts could not entirely conceal, flew into Julian's arms, and clinging to him, greatly augmented his alarm, and, by screaming aloud, render- ed it very difficult for him to'avoid the sympathetic fear which impelled him to do the same. There was something in the manner and bearing of this unexpected inmate, which mightjustify awe at least. S4 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. if not fear, when joined to the unexpected and myste rious mode in which she had made her appearance. Her dress was not remarkable, being the hood and female riding attire of the time, such as was worn by the inferior class of gentlewomen ; but her black haii was very long, and several locks having escaped from under her hood, hung down dishevelled on her neck and shoulders. Her eves were deep black, keen, and piercing, and her features had something of a foreign expression. When she spoke, her language was mark- ed by a slight foreign accent, although, in construction, it was pure English. Her slightest tone and gesture had the air of one accustomed to command and to be obeyed ; the recollection of which probably suggested to Julian the apology he afterward made for being frightened, that he took the stranger for an " enchanted queen.' 5 While the stranger lady and the children thus con- fronted each other, two persons entered almost at the same instant, but from different doors, whose haste showed that they had been alarmed by the cries of the latter. The first was Major Bridgenorth, whose ears had been alarmed with the cries of his child as he entered the hall, which corresponded with what was called the gilded chamber. His intention had been to remain in the more public apartment, until- the Lady Peveril should make her appearance, with the good-natured purpose of assuring her that the preceding day of tu- mult had passed in every respect agreeably to his friends, and without any of those alarming consequen- ts which might have been apprehended from a col- lision betwixt the parties. But when it is considered how severely he had been agitated by apprehensions for his child's safety and health, too well justified by the fate of those who had preceded her, it will not be thought surprising that the infantine screams of Alice induced him to break through the barriers of form, and intrude farther into the interior of the house than a sense ot strict propriety might have warranted. He burst into the gilded chamber, therefore, by a ;jde-door and narrow passage, which communicated be* PEVERIL OF THE. PEAK. 60 twixl that apartment and the hall, and snatching the child up in his arms, endeavoured, by a thousand ca- resses, to stifle the screams which burst yet more thick- ly from the little girl, on beholding herself in the arms of one to whose voice and manner she was, but for one brief interview, an entire stranger. Of course, Alice's shrieks were redoubled, and se- conded by those of Julian Peveril, who, on the appear- ance of this second intruder, was frightened into resig- nation of every more manly idea of rescue than that which consisted in invoking assistance at the very top of his lungs. Alarmed by this noise, which, in half a minute be- came very clamorous. Lady Peveril, with whose apart- ment the gilded chamber was connected by a private door of communication, opening into her wardrobe, en- tered on the scene. The instant she appeared, the lit- tle Alice, extricating herself from the grasp of her fa- ther, ran towards her protectress, and when she had once^taken hold of her skirts, not only became silent, but turned her large blue eyes, in which the tears were still glistening, with a look of wonder rather than alarm, towards the strange lady. Julian manfully recovered his reed, a weapon which he had never parted with du- ring the whole alarm, and stood prepared to assist his mother if there should be danger in the encounter be- twixt her and the stranger. In fact, it might have puzzled an older person to ac- count for the sudden and confined pause which the Lady Peveril made, as she gazed on her unexpected guest, as if dubious whether she did or did not recog- nize, in her still beautiful, though wasted and emaciated features, a countenance which she had known well un- der far different circumstances. The stranger seemed to understand her cause of he- sitation, for she said in that heart- thrilling voice which was peculiarly her own, ' ; Time and misfortune have changed me much, Mar- garet — that every mirror tells me— vet, metbinks, Mar- garet Stanley might still have known Charlotte de la Tremouille." 6* PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. The Lady Peveril was little in the custom of giving way to sudden emotion, but in the present case she threw herself on her knees in a rapture of mingled joy and grief, and half embracing those of the stranger, exclaimed, in broken language — " My kind, my noble benefactress — the princely Countess of Derby — the royal Queen in Man — could 1 doubt your voice, your features for a moment — O, for- give, forgive me !" The Countess raised the suppliant kinswoman of her husband's house, with all the grace of one accustomed from early birth to receive homage and to grant pro- tection. She kissed the Lady Peveril's forehead, and passed her hand in a caressing manner over her face as she said — ii You too are changed, my fair cousin, but it is a change becomes you, from a pretty and timid maiden to a sage and comely matron. But my own memory, which J once held a good one, has failed me strangely, if this gentleman be Sir Geoffrey Peveril." i; A kind and good neighbour only, madam," said Lady Peveril ; " Sir Geoffrey is at Court." " I understood so much," said the Countess of Der- by, " when T arrived here last night." " How, madam !" said Lady Peveril — " Did you ar- rive at Martindale Castle — at the house of Margaret Stanley, where you have such right to command, and did not announce your presence to her ?" " O, I know you are a dutiful subject, Margaret," answered the Countess, " though it be in these days a rare character — but it was our pleasure," she added with a smile, ' ; to travel incognito — and, finding you engaged in general hospitality, we desired not to dis- turb you with our royal presence." " But how and where were you lodged, madam ?-" said Lady Peveril ; " or why should you have kept se- cret a visit which would, if made, have augmented ten- fold the happiness of every true heart that rejoiced here yesterday !" " My lodging was well cared for by Ellesmere— your Fdlesmere now. as she was formerlv mine — she has act- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 67 ed as quarter-master ere now you know, and on a broader scale ; you must excuse her — she had my po* sitive order to lodge me in the most secret part of your Castle — (here she pointed to the sliding pannel) — she obeyed orders in that, and I suppose also in sending you now hither." " Indeed I have not yet seen her,*' said the lady. " and therefore was totally ignorant of a visit so joyful, so surprising." t; And I," said the Countess, " was equally surprised to find none but these beautiful children in the apart- ment where 1 thought I heard you moving. Our Elles- mere has become silly — your good nature has spoiled her — she has forgotten the discipline she has learned under me." " I saw her run through the wood," said the Lady Peveril, after a moment's recollection, " undoubtedly to seek the person who ha3 charge of the children, in order to remove them." u Your own darlings, I doubt not," said the Countess, looking at the children. i; Margaret, Providence has blessed you." " That is my son," said Lady Peveril, pointing to Julian, who stood devouring their discourse with greedy ear ; the little giil I may call mine too." Major Bridge- north, who had, in the mean time, again taken up his infant, and was engaged in caressing it, set it down as the Countess of Derby spoke, sighed deeply, and walked towards the oriel window. He was well aware that the ordinary rales of courtesy would have render- ed it proper that he should withdraw entirely, or at least offer to do so ; but he was not a man of ceremo- nious politeness, and he had a particular interest in the subjects on which the Countess's discourse was likely to turn, which induced him to dispense with ceremony. The ladies seemed indeed scarce to notice his pre- sence. The Countess had now assumed a chair, and motioned to the Lady Peveril to sit upon a stool which was placed by her side. " We will have old times once more, though there are here no roaring of the re- bel guns to drive you to take^ refuge at my side, and almost in my pocket." b8 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK- u I have a gun, madam," said little Julian, " and the park-keeper is to teach me how to fire it next year." " I will list you for my soldier, then," said the Coun- tess. " Ladies have no soldiers," said the boy, looking wistfully at her. " He has the true masculine contempt of our frail sex, I see," said the Countess ; " it is born with the in- solent varlets of mankind, and shows itself so soon as they are out of their long clothes. Did Ellesmerr never tell you of Latham-House and Charlotte of Der- by, my little master?" " A thousand-thousand times," said the boy, Colour- ing; "and how the Queen of Man defended it six- weeks against three thousand Roundheads, under^Roguc Harrison, the butcher." " It was your mother defended Latham-House," said the Countess, " not I, my little soldier — Hadst thou been there, thou hadst been the best captain of the three." " Do not say so, madam," said the boy, " for mam- ma would not touch a gun for all the universe." " Not I, indeed, Julian," said his mother; " there 1 was for certain, but as useless a part of the garrison — *' "You forget," said the Countess, "you nursed our hospital, and made lint for the soldiers' wounds." " But did not papa come to help you ?" said Julian. "Papa came at last," said the Countess, "and so did Prince Rupert — but not, I think, till they were both heartily wished for. — Do you remember that morning. Margaret, when the round-headed knaves, that kept us pent up so long, retreated without bag or baggage, at the first glance of the Prince's standards appearing on the hill — and how you took every high-crested captain you saw for Peveril of the Peak, that had been your partner three months before at the Queen's mask ? Nay, never blush for the thought of it — it was an honest af- fection — and though it was the music of trumpets that accompanied you both to the old chapel, which was almost entirely ruined by the enemy's bullets,; and though Prince Rupert, .when he gave you away at the altar, was clad in buifand bandalier, with pistols in his PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 69 belt, yet I trust these warlike signs were no type of fu- ture discord." " Heaven has been kind to me," said Lady Peveril, %i in blessing me with an affectionate husband." " And in preserving him to you," said the Countess, with a deep sigh; " while mine, alas ! sealed with his blood his devotion to his king. O had he lived to sec this day !" " Alas ! alas ! that he was not permitted !" answered Lady Peveril ; " how had that brave and noble Earl rejoiced in the unhoped-for redemption of our capti- vity !" The Countess looked on Lady Peveril with an air of surprise. ,; Thou hast not then heard, cousin, how it stands with our house ? — How indeed had my noble lord won- dered, had he been told that the very monarch for whom he laid down his noble life on the scaffold at Bolton le Moor, should make it his first act of restored monarchy to complete the destruction of our property, already well nigh ruined in the royal cause, and to per- secute me his widow !" " You astonish me, madam !" said the Lady Peyeril : " it cannot be, that you — that you, the wife of the gal- lant, the faithful, the murdered Earl — you, Countess of Derby, and Queen in Man — you, who took on you even the character of a soldier, and seemed a man when so many men proved women — that you should sustain evil from the event which has fulfilled — exceeded — the hopes of every faithful subject — it cannot be!" " Thou art as simple, I see, in this world's know- ledge as ever, my fair cousin," answered the Countess. " This Restoration, which has given others security, has placed me in danger — this change, which relieved other royalists, scarce less zealous, I presume to think, than I — has sent me here a fugitive, and in conceal- ment, to beg shelter and assistance from you, fair cou- sin." "From me," answered the Lady Peveril — "from me, whose youth your kindness sheltered — from the wife of Peveril, your gallant Lord's companion inarms — you have a right to command every thing 5 but alas ! ti) PEVERIL f>y THE PEAK. that you should need such assistance as I can render- forgive me, but it seems like some ill-omened vision oi the night — I listen to your words as if I hoped to be re- lieved from their painful import by awakening." " It is indeed a dream — a vision,*' said the Countess of Derby; " but it needs no seer to read it — the expla- nation hath been long since given — Put not your faith m princes. I can soon remove your surprise. — This gentleman, your friend, is, doubtless, honest . ? " The Lady Peveril well knew that the Cavaliers, like other factions, usurped to themselves the exclusive de- nomination of the honest party, and she felt some diffi- culty in explaining that her visiter was not honest in that sense of the word. " Had we not better retire, madam," she said to the Countess, rising, as if in order to attend her. But the Countess retained her seat. "It was but a question of habit," she said : "the gentleman's principles are nothing to me, for what 1 have to tell you is widely blazed, and I care not who hears my share of it. You remember — you must have heard, for I think Margaret Stanley would not be indif- ferent to my fate — that after my husband's murther at Bolton, I took up the standard which he never dropped until his death, and displayed it with my own hand in our Sovereignty of Man." " I did indeed hear so, madam," said the Lady Pe- veril ; "and that you had bidden a bold defiance to the rebel government, even after all other parts of Bri- tain had submitted to them. My husband, Sir Geof- frey, designed at one time to have gone to your assist- ance with some few followers : but we learned that the island was rendered to the Parliament party ; and that you, dearest lady, were thrown into prison." " But you heard not " said the Countess, " how that disaster befell me. — Margaret, 1 would have held out that island against the knaves as long as the sea con- tinued to flow around it. Till the shoals which sur- round it had become safe anchorage — till its precipices had melted with the sunshine — till of all its strong abodes and castles not one stone remained upon ano- ther, would I have defended against these villaneous fcEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 7J hypocritical rebels, my dear husband's hereditary do- minion. The little kingdom of Man should have been yielded only when not an arm was left to wield a sword, not a finger to draw a trigger in its defence. But treachery did what force could never have done. When we had foiled various attempts upon the island by open focce — treason accomplished what Blake and Lawson, with their floating castles, had found an enterprise too hazardous — a base rebel, whom we had nursed in our own bosoms, betrayed us to the enemy. This wretch was named Christian— — " Major Bridgenorth started and turned towards the speaker, but instantly seemed to recollect himself, and ngain averted his face. The Countess proceeded, without noticing the interruption, which, however, rather surprised Lady Peveril, who was acquainted wffh her neighbour's general habits of indifference and apathy, and therefore the more surprised at his testify- ing such sudden symptoms of interest. She would once again have moved the Countess to retire to ano- ther apartment, but Lady Derby proceeded with too much vehemence to endure interruption. '• This Christian." she said, " had eaten of my lord his sovereign's bread, and drank of his cup. even from childhood — for his fathers had been faithful servants to the house of Man and Derby. He himself had fought bravely by my husband's side, and enjoyed all his con- fidence ; and when he was martyred by the rebels, he recommended to me, among other instructions commu- nicated in the last message I received from him, to continue my confidence in Christian's fidelity. J obeyed, although 1 never loved the man* lie was cold and phlegmatic, and utterly devoid of that sacred fire which is the incentive to noble deeds, suspected tdfej of leaning to the cold metaphysics of Calvinistic suH tlety. But he was brave, wise, and experienced, and. as the event proved, possessed but too much interest with the islanders. When these rude people saw them- selves without hope of relief, and pressed by a block- ade, which brought want and disease into their island, they began to fall off from the faith which they had hitherto shown.'* <2 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. " What !" said the Lady Peveril, " could they forget what was due to the widow of their benefactor — she who had shared with the generous Derby the taskoi bettering their condition ?" "Do not blame them, 5 ' said the Countess; " the rude herd acted but according to their kind — in present distress they forgot former benefits, and, nursed in their earthen hovels, with spirits suited to their dwellings, they were incapable of feeling the glory which is at- tached to constancy in suffering. But that Christian should have headed their revoit — that he, born a gen- tleman, and bred under my murdered Derby's own care in all that was chivalrous and noble — that he should have forgot a hundred benefits — why do I talk of benefits ? — that he should have forgotten that kindly intercourse which binds man to man far more than the reciprocity of obligation — that he should have headed the ruffians who broke suddenly into my apartment — immured me with my infants in one of my own castles, and assumed or usurped the tyranny of the island — that this should have been done by William Christian, my vassal, my servant, my friend, was a deed of un- grateful treachery, which even this age of treason will scarcely parallel !" "And you were then imprisoned, " said the Lady Peveril, "and in your own sovereignty,;?" " For more than seven years I have endured strict captivity," said the Countess. " I was indeed offered my liberty, and even some means of support, if I would have consented to leave the island, and pledge my word that I would not endeavour to repossess my son in his father's rights. But they little knew the prince- ly house from which 1 spring — and as little the royal ^use of Stanley which 1 uphold, who hoped to humble iarlotte of Tremouille into so base a composition. I Would rather have starved in the darkest and lowest vault of Ruffin Castle, than have consented to aught which might diminish in one hair's breadth the right ot my son over his father's sovereignty." " And could not your firmness, in a case where hope seemed lost, induce them at once to be generous, and dismiss you without conditions ?" PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 73 "They knew me better than thou dost, wench," an- » we red the Countess ; " once at liberty, I had not been long without the means of disturbing their usurpation, and Christian would have as soon uncaged a lioness to combat with her, as have given me the slightest power of returning to the struggle with him. But time had liberty and revenge in store — I had still friends and partizans in the island, though they were compelled to give way to the storm. Even among the islanders at large, most had been disappointed in the effects which they expected from the change of power. They were loaded with exactions by their new masters, their pri- vileges were abridged, and their immunities abolished, under the pretext of reducing them to the same con- dition with the other subjects of the pretended repub- lic. When the news arrived of the changes which were current in Britain, these sentiments were private- ly communicated to me ; and a rising, effected as sud- denly and effectually as that which had made me a captive, placed me at liberty and in possession of the Sovereignty of Man, as regent for my son, the youthful Earl of Derby. Do you think 1 enjoyed that sove- reignty long without doing justice on that traitor Chris- tian?" " How. madam," said Lady Peveril, who, though she knew the high and ambitious spirit of the Countess, scarce anticipated the extremities to which it was capable of hurrying her — " Have you imprisoned Chris- tian ?" " Ay, wench — in that sure prison which felon never breaks from," answered the Countess. Bridgenorth, who had insensibly approached them, and was listening with an agony of interest which he was unable any longer to suppress, broke in with the stern exclamation — ;t Lady, 1 trust you have not dared " The Countess interrupted him in her turn. ki I know not who you are who question — and you know not me when you speak to me of that, which 1 dare, or dare not do. But you seem interested in the vol. i. 7 74 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. fate of this Christian, and you shall hear it. — I was u& sooner placed in possession of my rightful power, than I ordered the Doomster of the island lo hold upon the traitor a High Court of Justice, with all the formalities of the isle, as prescribed in its oldest records. The court was held in the open air, before the judges and keys ; seated upon chairs of the living rock — -the criminal was heard at length in his own defence, which amounted to little more than those specious allegiances of public consideration, which are ever used to colour the ugly front of treason. He was fully convicted of his crime^ and he received the doom of a traitor.'' " But which I trust is not yet executed ?" said Lady Peveril, uot without an involuntary shudder. *, ;i You are a fool, Margaret," said the countess sharp- ]y ; " think you i delayed such an act of justice, until some wretched intrigues of the new English Court might have prompted their interference ? No, wench — he passed from the judgment-seat to the place of execution, with no farther delay than might be ne- cessary for his soul's sake. He was shot to death in the court-yard of Peel Castle, by a file of musketeers." Bridgenorth clasped his hands together, wrung them, and groaned bitterly. " As you seem interested for this criminal," added the Countess, addressing Bridgenorth, " I do him but justice in reporting to you, that his death was firm and manly, becoming the general tenor of his life, which, but for that gross act of traitorous ingratitude, had been fair and honourable. But What of that ? The hypo- crite is a saint, and the false traitor a man of honour, till opportunity, that faithful touchstone, proves their metal to be base." " It is false, woman — it is false !" said Bridgenorth. no longer suppressing his indignation. "What means this bearing, Master Bridgenorth?" said Lady Peveril, much surprised. " What is this Christian to you, that you should insult the countess oi Derby under my roof?" " Speak not to me of Countesses and of ceremonies." =aid Bridgenorth ; " grief and anger leave me no lei- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 75 iure for idle observances, to humour the vanity of over- grown children. — O Christian worthy, well worthy of the name thou didst bear ! My friend — my brother — the brother of my blessed Alice — the only friend of my desolate estate! art thou then cruelly murdered by a female fur , who, but for thee, had deservedl) paid with her own blood that of God's saints, which she as well as her tyrant husband, had spilled like water ! — Yes. cruel murtheress !" he continued, addressing the Coun- tess, "he whom thou hast butchered in thy insane ven- geance, sacrificed for man)' a year the dictates of his own conscience to the interest of thy family, and did not desert it till thy frantic zeal for royalty had well nigh brought to utter perdition the little community in which he was horn. Even in confining thee, he acted but as the friends of the madman, who bind him with iron for his own preservation ; and for thee, as I can bear witness, he was the only barrier between thee and the wrath of the Commons of England, and but for his earnest remonstrances thou hadst suffered the penalty of thy malignancy, even like the wicked wife o=f Ahab." " Master Bridgenorth." said Lady Peveril, " I will allow for your impatience upon hearing these unpleasing tidings; but there is neither use nor propriety in further urging this question. If in your grief you forget other restraints, I pra) you to remember that the Countess is my guest and kinswoman, and is under such protection as 1 can afford her. J beseech you, in simple courtesy, to withdraw, as what must needs be the best and most becoming course in these trying circumstances." " Nay, Jet him remain," said the Countess, regarding him with composure, not unmingled with triumph; V I would not have it otherwise ; 1 would not that my re- venge should be summed up in the stinted gratification which Christian's death hath afforded. This man's rude and clamorous grief only proves that the retribu- tion I have dealt has been more widely felt than by the wretched sufferer himself. I would I knew that it had but made sore as many rebel hearts, as there were loyal breasts afflicted by the death of my princely Derby !" *' So please you, madam," said Lady Peveril, " since 7& PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Master Bridgenorth hath not the manners to leave us upon my request, we will, if your ladyship lists, leave him, and retire to my apartment. — Farewell, Master Bridgenorth; we will meet hereafter on better terms." " Pardon me, madam," said the Ma;or, who had been striding hastily through the room, but now stood fast, and drew himself up, as one who has taken a resolution ; — " to yourself I have nothing to say but what is re- spectful : but to this woman I must speak as a magis- trate. She has confessed a murder in my presence— the murder, too, of my brother-in-law — as a man, and as a magistrate, I cannot permit her to pass from hence, excepting under such custody as may prevent her fnr- ther flight. She has already confessed that she is a fu gitive, and in search of a place of concealment, until she should be able to escape into foreign parts. — Charlotte. Countess of Derby, I attach thee of the crime of which thou hast but now made thy boast." " I shall not obey your arrest," said the Countess, composedly ; " I was born to give, but not to receive such orders. What have your English laws to do with my acts of justice and of government, within my son's hereditary kingdom? Am I not Queen of Man, as well as Countess of Derby ? A feudatory Sovereign, indeed; but yet independent so long as my dues of homage are duly discharged. What right can you assert over me ?" " That given by the precept of scripture," answered Bridgenorth — " fc Whoso spilieth mail's blood, by man shall his blood be spilled.' Think not that the barba- rous privileges of ancient feudal customs will avail t© screen you from the punishment due for an Englishman murthered upon pretexts inconsistent with the act of in- demnity." "Mister Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, "if by- fair terms you desist not from your present purpose, I tell you that I neither dare, nor will, permit any vio- lence against this honourable lady, within the walls of mv husband's Castle.'' " You will find yourself unable to prevent me from executing my duty, madamj" said Bridgenorth, whosr PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 11 native obstinacy now came in aid of his grief and desire of revenge ; " I am a magistrate, and act by authority." " I know not that," said Lady Peveril. " That you were a magistrate, Master ^ridgenorth, under the late usurping powers, I know well ; but till I hear of your having a commission in the name of the King, I now he- sitate to obey you as such." " I shall stand on small ceremony," said Bridgenorth. " Were 1 no magistrate, every man has title to arrest for murder against the terms of the indemnities held out by the Kings proclamations, and i will make my point good." " What indemnities ? What proclamations ?" said the CountefeS of Derby, indignantly. " Charles Stuart may. if he pleases, (and it doth seem to please him,) consort with those whose hands have been red with the blood, and blackened with the plunder, of his father and of his loyal subjects. He may forgive them if he will, and count their deeds good service. What has that to do with this Christian's offence against me and mine ? Born a Manksman — bred and nursed in the island — he broke the laws under which he lived, and died for the breach of them, after the fair trial which they allowed. — Me* thinks, Margaret, we have enough of this peevish and foolish magistrate — I attend you to your apartment." Major Bridgenorth placed himself betwixt them and the door, in a manner which showed him determined to interrupt their passage ; when the Lady Peveril, who thought she had already showed more deference to him in this matter than her husband was likely to approve of, raised her voice, and calied loudly on her steward, Whi taker. That alert person, who had heard high talking, and a female voice with which he was unac- quainted, had remaiued for several minutes stationed in the anti-room, much afflicted with the anxiety of his own curiosity. Of course he entered in an instant. " Let three of the men instantly take arms," said his lady : - ; bring them into the anti-room, and wait my farther orders*" PEVERIL OF THE SEAR. CHAPTER VI. You shall have no worse prison tbantaiy chamber; ]Ner jailer than myself. The Captain The command which Lady Peveril laid on her do- mestics to arm themselves, was so unlike the usual gen- tle acquiescence of her manners, that Major Bridge- north was astonished. u How mean you, madam ?" said he : " I thought myself under a friendly roof." 4i And you are so, Major Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, without departing from the natural calmness oi her voice and manner ; " but it is a roof which must no! be violated by the violence of one friend against ano- ther." " It is well, madam,'* said Bridgenorth, turning to the door of the apartment. " The worthy Mastei Solsgrace has already foretold, that the time was return ed when high houses and proud names should be once more an excuse for the crimes of those who inhabit the one and bear the other. I believed him not, but now see he is wiser than I. Yet think not I will endure this tamely. The blood of my brother — of the friend of my bosom — shall not long call from the altar, ' How long, O Lord, how long!' If there is one spark of jus- lice left in this unhappy England, that proud woman .aid I shall meet where she can have no partial friend to protect her." So saying, he was about to leave the apartment, when Lady Peveril said, " You depart not from this place. Master Bridgenorth, unless you give me your word to renounce all purpose against the noble Countess's liberty upon the present occasion." " I Would sooner,'* answered he, "subscribe to my own dishonour, madam, written down in express word.-. than to any sucb composition. If any man offers to in- terrupt me, his blood be on his own head." As Major Bridgenorth spoke, Whitaker threw open the door, and PEVF.RIL OF THE PEAK. 79 showed that, with the alertness of an old soldier, who was not displeased at seeing things tend once more to- wards a state of warfare, he had got wiib him four stout fellows in the Knight of the Peak's livery, well armed with swords and ^pibines, buff coats, and pistols at their girdles. u I will see," sai' 4 Major Bridgenorth, " if any of these men be so desperate as to stop me, a free-born Englishman, and a magistrate, in the discharge of my duty." So saying, be advanced upon Whitaker and his arm- ed assistants, with his nan I on the hilt of his sword. " Do not be so desperate, Master Bridgenorth," ex- claimed Lady Peveril; and added, in the same moment. il Lay hold upon, and disarm him, WhitaKtr, but do him no injury." Her commands were obeyed. Bridgenorth, though a man of moral resolution, was not one of those who un dertaketo cope in person with odds of a description so formidable. He half drew his sword, and offered such show of resistance as made it necessary to secure him by actual force ; but then yielded up his weapon, and declared, that submitting to force which one man was unable to resist, he made those who commanded, and who employed it, responsible for assailing his liberty w ithout a legal warrant. "Never mind a warrant for a pinch. Master Bridge- north," said old Whitaker; "sure enough you have often acted upon a worse yourself. My lady's word is as good a warrant, sure, as Old Noll's commission ; and you bore that many a day, Master Bridgenorth, and laid me in the stocks for drinking the king's health, Master Bridgeworth, and never cared a farthing about the laws of England." " Hold your saucy tongue, Whitaker," said the Lady Peveril; " and do you, Master Bridgenorth, not take it to heart that you are detained prisoner for a few hours, until the Counfess of Derby can have nothing to fear from your pursuit. I could easily send an escort with her that might bid a defiance to any force you could muster; but I wishj Heaven knows, to bury the remem- 30 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. brance of old civil dissensions, not to awaken new. Once more, will you think better on ii — assume youi sword again; and forget whom you have now seen at Martindale Castle?" "Never," said Bridge north. " ^e crime of this cruel woman will be the last of human injuries which I can forget. The last thought of earthly kind which will leave me, will be the desire that justice shall be done on her." "If such be your sentiments," said Lady Peveril, " though they are more allied to revenge than to justice. I must provide for my friend's safety, by putting a re- straint on your person. In this room you will be sup plied with every necessary of life, and every conve- nience ; and a message shall relieve your domestics of the anxiety which your absence from he Hall is not un likely to occasion. When a few hours, at most two days, are over, I will myself relieve you from confine- ment, and demand your pardon for now acting as your obstinacy compels me to do. ' The Major made no answer, excepting that he was in her hands, and must submit to her pleasure ; and then turned sullenly to the window, as if desirous to be rid of their presence. The Countess and the Lady Peveril left the apart- ment arm in arm ; and the lady issued forth her direc- tions to Whitaker concerning tiie mode in which she was desirous that Bridgenorth should be guarded and treated during his temporary confinement ; at the same time explaining to him, that the safety >f the Countess of Derby required that he should be closely watched. In all proposals for the prisoner's security, such as the regular relief of guards, and the like, Whitaker joy- fully acquiesced, and undertook, body for body, that he should be detained in captivity for the necessary pe- riod. But the old steward was not half so docile when it came to be considered how the captive's bedding and table should be supplied, and he thought Lady Pe- veril displayed a very undue degree of attention to her prisoner's comforts. " 1 warrant," he said, "that the cuekoldy Roundhead ate enough of our fat beef yester- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 81 day to serve bim for a month ; and a little fasting will do his health good. Marry, for drink, he shall have plenty of cold water to coo! his hot liver, which I will be bound is still hissing with the strong liquors of yes- terday. And as for bedding, there are the fine dry* boards — more wholesome than the wet straw I lay up- on when 1 was in the stocks, I trow." " Whitaker," said the lady, peremptorily, " I de- sire you to provide Master Bridgenorth's bedding and food in the way I have already signified to you ; and to behave yourself towards him in all civility." " Lack-a-day ! yes, my lady," said Whitaker ; " you shall have all your directions punctually obeyed ; but. as an old servant. 1 cannot but speak my mind." The ladies retired after this conference with the steward in the anti-chamber, and were soon seated in another apartment, which was peculiarly dedicated to the use of the mistress of the mansion — having on the one side, access to the family bed-room ; and on the other to the still-room which communicated with the garden. There was also a small door which, ascending a few steps, ied to that balcony, already mentioned, that overhung the kitchen ; and the same passage, by a separate door, admitted to the principal gallery in the chapeJ ; so that the spiritual and temporal atfairs of the Castle were placed almost at once within reach of the same regulating and directing eye. In the tapestried room, from which issued these va- rious sally-ports, the Countess and Lady Peveril were speedily seated ; and the former, smiling upon the lat- ter, said, as she took her hand, b ' Two things have hap- pened to-day which might have surprised me, if any thing ought to surprise me in such times; — the first is, that yonder round-headed fellow should have dared to use such insolence in the house of Peveril of the Peak. If youriiusband is yet the same honest and downright cavalier whom I once knew, and had chanced to be at home, he would luve thrown the knave out of the win- dow. But what 1 wonder at still more, Margaret, is your generalsh.p. 1 hardly thought you had courage sufficient to have taken such decided measures, after 82 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. keeping on terms with the man so long. When he spoke of justices and warrants, you looked so overaw- ed that I thought 1 felt the clutch of the parish-beadles on my shoulder, to drag me to prison as a vagrant." , " We owe Master Brid^enorth some deference, my dearest lady," answered the Lady Peveril ; " he ha^ served us often, and kindly, in, these lat*- times ; but neither he, nor any one else, shall insult the Counter of Derby in the house of Margaret Stanley." " Thou art become a perfect heroine, Margaret," re plied the Countess. " Two sieges, and alarms innumerable," said Lady Peveril, " may have taught me presence of mind. M} courage is, I believe, as slender as ever." " Presence of mind is courage," answered the Countess. "Real valour consists not in being insensi- ble to danger, but in being prompt to confront and dis- arm it ; — and we may have present occasion for all that we possess," she added, with some slight emotion, " for I hear the trampling of horses' steps on the pavement of the court." In one moment, the boy Julian, breathless with joy. came flying into the roo u, to say that papa was return- ed, with Lamin^ton and Sam Brewer; and that he was to ride Black Hastings to the stable. In the second, the tramp of the honest Knight's heavy jack-boots was heard, as, in his haste to see his lady, he ascended the staircase by two steps at a time. He burst into the room; his manly countenance and disordered dress showing marks that he had been riding fast; and with- out looking to any one else, caught his good lady in his arms, and kissed her a dozen of times. — Blushing, and with some difficulty. Lady Peveril extricated herself from Sir Geoffrey's arms ; and in a voice of bashful and gentle rebuke, bid him, for shame, observe who was in the room. " One," said the Countess, advancing to him, "who is right glad to see that Sir Geoffrey Peveril, though turned courtier and favourite, still values the treasure which she had some share in bestowing upon him. J-EVERIL OP THE PEAK. 83 Vou cannot have forgot the raising of the leaguer of Latham-house." " The noble Countess of Derby !" said Sir Geoffrey, doffing his plumed hat with an air of deep deference, and kissing with much reverence the hand which she held out to him ; " I am as glad to see your ladyship in my poor hou>e, as I would be to h< j ar that they had found a vein of lead in the Brown Tor. I rode hard, in hope to be your escort through the county. I fear- ed you might have fallen into bad hands, hearing there was a knave sent out with a warrant from the Coun^ Gil." 4i When heard you so? and from whom ?" M It was from Choimo ls presented; but and drawn up his party so as complefnerald, commanded road at three different points. _ iu keep the peace. The opposite party was led vol.. i. 9 98 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. pected, by Major Bridgenorth. At his side was a per- son in black, with a silver gray hound on his arm ; and he was followed by about eijsht or ten inhabitants of the Tillage of Martindait -Moultrassie, two or three of whom were officers of the peace, and others were personally known to Sir Geoffrey as favourers of the subverted government. As the party rode briskly up. Sir Geoffrey called to them to halt; and as they continued advancing, he or- dered his own people to present their pistols and cara- bines ; and after assuming that menacing attitude, he repeated, with a voice of thunder, " Halt, or we fire !" The other party halted accordingly, and Major Bridgenorth advanced, as if to parley. " Why, how now, neighbour," said Sir Geoffrey, as if he had at that moment recognised him for the firsfe time, — " what makes you ride so sharp this morning? Are you not afraid to harm your horse, or spoil your spurs ? u Sir Geoffrey," said the Major, " I have no time fop jesting — I am on the King's affairs." 41 Are you sure it is not upon Old Noll's, neighbour? You used to hold his the better errand," said the Knight, with a smile, which gave occasion to a horse-laugh among his followers. " Show him your warrant," said Bridgenorth to the man in black formerly mentioned, who was a pursui- vant. Then taking the warrant from the officer, he gave it to Sir Geoffrey — " To this at least you will pay regard." " The same regard which you would have paid to it a month back or so," said the Knight, tearing the war- rant to shreds. " What a plague do you stare at ? Do you think you have a monopoly of rebellion, and that we have not a.rifrht to show a trick of disobedience in Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridge- will compel me to do that I may be ^ this matter the avenger of the blood c aints, and I will follow the chase an arm to make my way." PEVEIUL OF THE TEAK- 33 n You shall make no way here, but at your peril,'- said Sir Geoffrey ; this is my ground. I have been ha- rassed enough for these twenty years by saints, as you call yourselves. I tell you. master, you shall neither violate the security of my house, nor pursue my friends over the grounds, nor tamper, as you have done, among my servants with impunity. I have had you in respect for certain kind doings, which 1 will not either forget or deny, and you will find it difficult to make me draw a sword or bend a pistol against you, but offer any hostile movement, or presume to advance a foot, and I will make sure of you presently. And for these rascals, who come hither to annoy a noble lady on my bounds, unless you draw them off, 1 will pre- sently send some of them to the devil before their lime."" " Make room at your proper peril,* 1 said Major Bridgenorth ; and he put his right hand on his holster- pistol. Sir Geoffrey closed with hirn instantly, seized him by the collar, and spurred Black Hastings, checking him at the same time, so that the horse made a cour- bette, and brought the full weight of his chest against the counter of the other. A ready soldier might, in Bridgenorth's situation, have rid himself of his adversa- ry with a bullet. But Bridgenorth's courage, notwith- standing his having served some time with the Parlia- ment army, was rather of a civil than a military charac- ter; and he was inferior to his adversary not only in strength and horsemanship, but also and especially in the daring and decisive resolution which made Sir Geoffrey thrust himself readily into personal contest. While, therefore, they tugged and grappled together upon terms which bore such little accordance with their long acquaintance and close neighbourhood, itvvas no wonder that Bridgenorth should be unhorsed with much violence. While Sir Geoffrey sprung from the saddle, the party of Bridgenorth advanced to resent their leader, and that of the Knight to oppose them. Swords were unsheathed, and pistols presented ; but Sir Geoffrey, with the voice of a herald, commanded both parties to stand back, and to keep the peace. 100 PEVEBIL OF THE PEAK, The pursuivant took the hint, and easily found a rea- son for not prosecuting a dangerous duty . " The war rant," he said, " was destroyed. They that did it must be answerable to the Council ; for his part, he could proceed no farther without his commission." " Well said, and like a peaceable fellow !" said Sir Geoffrey. — " Wbi taker, let him have refreshment at the Castle — his nag is sorely out of condition. — Come : neighbour Bridgenorth, get up, man — I trust you have had no hurt in this mad affray ? I was loath to lay hand on you, man, till you plucked out your petronel." As he spoke thus, he aided the Major to rise. The pursuivant, meanwhile, drew aside ; and with him the constable and head borough, who were not without some tacit suspicion, that though Peveril was interrupt- ing the direct course of law in this matter, yet he was likely to have his offence considered by favourable, iudges ; and therefore it might be as much for their in- terest and safety to give way as to oppose him. But the rest of the party, friends of Bridgenorth, and of his principles, kept their ground notwithstanding this defec- tion, and seemed, from their looks, sternly determined to rule their conduct by that of their leader, whatever it might be. But it was evident that Bridgenorth did not intend to renew the struggle. He shook himself rather roughly free from the hands of Sir Geoffrey Peveril ; but it was not to draw his sword. On the contrary, he mounted his horse with a sullen and dejected air; and. making a sign to his followers, turned back the same road which he had come. Sir Geoffrey looked after him for some minutes. "Now. there goes a man,-' said he, a who would have been a right honest fellow had he not been a Presbyterian. But there is no heartiness about them — they can never forgive a fair fall upon the sod — they bear malice, and that I hate as I do a black cloak, or a Geneva scull-cap, and a pair of long ears rising on each side omt, like two chimneys at the gable ends of a thatched cottage. They are as sly as the devil to boot ; and, therefore, Lance Outram, take two with you and keep after them, that they may not turn our flank, and wet on the track of the Countess again, after all." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 101 11 I had as soon they should course my lady's white tame doe," answered Lance, in the spirit of his calling. He proceeded to execute his master's orders by dog- ging Major Bridgenonh at a distance, and observing his course from such heights as commanded the country. But it was soon evident that no manoeuvre was intend- ed, and that the Major was taking the direct road home- ward. When this was ascertained. Sir Geoffrey dis- missed most of his followers; and retaining only his own domestics, rode hastily forward to overtake the Countess. It is only necessary to say farther, that he comple- ted his purpose of escorting the Countess of Derby to Vale Royal, without meeting any farther hinderance by the waj. The lord of the mansion readily undertook to conduct the high-minded lady to Liverpool, and the task of seeing her safely embarked for her son's heredi- tary dominions, where th"re was no doubt of her re- maining in personal safety until the accusation against her for breach of the Royal Indemnity, by the execu- tion of Christian, could be brought to some compro- mise. For a length of time this was no easy matter. Cla- rendon, then at the head of Charles's administration, considered her rash action, though dictated by motives which the human breast must, in some respect, sympa- thize with, as calculated to shake the restored tran- quillity of E:i^!and. by exciting the doubts and jealousies of those who had to apprehend the consequences of what is called, in our own time, a reaction. At the same time, the high services of this distinguished family — the merits of the Countess herself — the memory of her gallant husband — and the very peculiar circum- stances of jurisdiction which took the case out of all common rules, pleaded strongly in her favour; and the death of Christian was at length only punished by the. imposition of a heavy tine, amounting, we believe, to many thousand pounds ; which was levied, with great difficulty, out of the shattered e&tateb t>f the young Earl of Perby. 9* *02 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* CHAPTER Vllf. My natire land, good night ! Byron. Lady Peveril remained in no small anxiety for seve- ral hours after her husband and the Countess had de- parted from Martindale Castle ; more especially when she learned that Major Bridgenorth, concerning whose motions she made private inquiry, had taken horse with a party, and was gone to the westward in the same di- rection with Sir Geoffrey. At length her immediate uneasiness in regard to the safety of her husband and the Countess was removed, b) the arrival of Whitaker, with her husband's commen- dations, and an account of the scuffle betwixt himself and Major Bridgenorth. Lady Peveril shuddered to see how nearly they had approached to a renewal of the scenes of civil discord : and while she was thankful to Heaven for her husband's immediate preservation, she could not help both feel- ing regret and apprehension for the consequences of his quarrel with Major Bridgenorth. They had now lost an old friend, who had showed himself such under those circumstances of adversity by which friendship is most severely tried ; and she could not disguise from herself that Bridgenorth, thus irritated, might be a trou- blesome, if not a dangerous enemy. His rights as a creditor, he had hitherto used with gentleness ; and il he should employ rigour, Lady Peveril, whose atten- tion to domestic economy had made her much better acquainted with her husband's affairs than he was him self, foresaw considerable inconvenience from the mea- sures which the law put in his power. She comforted Irerself with the recollection, however, that she had still a strong hold on Bridgenorth, through his pa- ternal affection, and from the fixed opinion which he had hitherto manifested, that his daughters health could PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 103 only flourish while under her charge. But any expec- tations of reconciliation which Lady Peveril migh: probably have founded on this circumstance, were frus- trated by an incident which took place in the course of the next morning. The governante, Mistress Deborah, who has been al- ready mentioned, went forth, as usual, with the chil- dren, to take their morning exercise in the Park, attend- ed by Rachel, a girl who acted occasionally as her assis- tant in attending upon them. But not as usual did she return. It was near the hour of breakfast, when Elles- mere, with an unwonted degree of primness in her mouth and manner, came to acquaint her lady that Misstress Deborah had not thought proper to come back from the park, though the breakfast hour approached so near. " She will come, then, presently," said Lady Peveril. with indifference. Ellesmere gave a short and doubtful cough, and then proceeded to say, that Rachel had been sent home with little Master Julian, and that Mistress Deborah had been pieased to say, she would walk on with Miss Bridgenorth as far as Moultrassie Holt ; which was a point at which the property of the Major, as matters now stood, bounded that of Sir Geoffrey Pe- veril. '• Is the wench turned silly," exclaimed the lady, some- thing angrily, " that she does not obey my orders, anci»g return at regular hours ?" u She may be turning silly," said Ellesmere, myste- riously; 4i or she may be turning too sly : and I think it were as well your ladyship looked to it." "Looked to what, Ellesmere ?" said the lady, im- patiently. " You are strangely oracular this morning. If you know any thing to the prejudice of this young woman, I pray you speak it out." •' 1 prejudice !" said Ellesmere ; M I scorn to preju- dice man, woman, or child, in the way of a fellow-ser- vant ; only 1 wish your ladyship to look about you, and Use your own eyes — that is all." »?% bid me use my own eyes, Ellesmere; but 1 184 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. suspect," answered the lady, " you would be better pleased were I contented to see through your specta- cles. I charge you — and you know 1 will be obey- ed — I charge you to tell me what you know or suspect about this girl, Deborah Debbitch." " I see through spectacles !" exclaimed the indignant Abigail. u Your ladyship will pardon me in that, for 1 never use them, unless a pair that belonged to my poor mother, that 1 put on when your ladyship wants your pinners curiously wrought. No woman above sixteen ever did white-seam without barnacles. And then as to suspecting. I suspect nothing; for as your ladyship hath taken Mistress Deborah Debbitch from under my hand, to be sure itis neither bread nor butter of mine. Only," (here she began to speak with her lips shut, so as scarce to permit a sound to escape, and mincing her words as if she pinched off the ends of them before she suffered them to escape) — '* only, madam, if distress Deborah goes so often of a morning to Moultrassie Holt, why L should not be surprised if she should never find the way back again." " Once more, what do you mean, Ellesmere ? You were wont to have some sense — let me know distinctly what the matter is." ;i Only, madam," pursued the Abigail, " that since Bridgenorth came back from Chesterrield, and saw you at the Castle Hal!, .Mistress Deborah has been pleased to carry the children every morning to that place ; and it has so happened that she has often met the Major, as they call him, there in his walks : for he can walk about now like other folks ; and I warrant you she hath not been the worse of the meeting — one way at least, for she hath bought a new hood might serve yourself, madam ; but whether she hath had any thing in hand besides a piece of money, no doubt your ladyship is best judge." Lady Peveril, who readily adopted the more good- natured construction of the gouvernante-s motives, Gould not help la ug hung at the idea of a man of Bridge- north's precise appearance, strict principles, and re- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 105 served habits, being suspected of a design of gallantry \ and readily concluded, that Mistress Deborah had found her advantage in gratifying his parental affection by a frequent sight of his daughter during the few days which intervened betwixt his first seeing little Alice at the Castle, and the events which had followed. But she was somewhat Surprised, when, an hour after the usual breakfast hour, during which neither the child nor the keeper appeared, Major Bridgenorth's only man-ser- vant arrived at the Castle on horseback, dressed as for a journey; and having delivered a letter adressed to herself, and another to Mistress Ellesmere, rode away without waiting any answer. There would have been nothing remarkable in this, had any other person been concerned ; but Major Bridgenorth was so very quiet and orderly in all his proceedings — so little liable to act hastily or by impulse, that the least appearance of bustle where he was con- cerned, excited surprise and curiosity. Lady Peveril broke her letter hastily open, and found that it contained the following lines : •'* For the Hands of the Honourable and Honoured Lady Peveril — These : •' Madam — Please it your Ladyship, " I write more to excuse myself to your ladyship, than to accuse either you or others, in respect that I am sensible it becomes our frail nature better to con- f fess our own imperfections, than to complain of those of others. Neither do 1 mean to speak of past times, particularly in respect of your worthy lad\ship, bein^c sensible that if I have served you in that period when our Israel might be called triumphant, }ou have more than requited me, in giving to my arms a child, redeem- ed, as it were, from the vale of the shadow of death. And, therefore, as I heartily forgive to your ladyship the unkind and violent measure which you dealt to mt at our last meeting, (seeing that the woman who was the cause of strife is accounted one of your kindred and people.) I do entreat you, in like manner, to pardon im 106 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. enticing away from your service the young woman called Deborah Debbitch. whose nurture, instructed as she hath been under your ladyship's direction, is, it may be, indispensable to the health of my dearest child. I had purposed madam, with your gracious permission, that Alice should have remained at Martindale Castle, under your kind charge, until she could so far discern betwixt good and evil, that it should be matter of con- science to teach her the way in which she should go. For it is not unknown to your ladyship, and in no way do I speak it reproachfully, but rather sorrowfully, that a person so excellently gifted as yourself— F mean touch- ing natural qualities — has not yet received that true light, which is a lamp to the paths, but are contented to stum- ble in darkness, and among the graves of dead men. It has been my prayer in the watches of the night, that your ladyship should cease from the doctrine which causeth to err; but I grieve to say, that our candlestick being about to be removed, the land will most likely be involved in deeper darkness than ever ; and the return of the King, to which 1 and many looked forward as a manifestation of divine favour, seems to prove little else than a per- mitted triumph of the Prince of the Air, who setteth about to restore his Vanity-fair of bishops, deans, and such like, excluding the peaceful ministers of the word, whose labours have proved faithful to many hungry souls. So. hearing from a sure hand, that commission has gone forth to restore these dumb dogs, the follow- ers of Laud and of Williams, who were cast forth by the late Parliament, and that an Act of Conformity, or 1 rather, of deformity of worship, was to be expected, it is my purpose to fly from the wrath to come, and to seek some corner where 1 may dwell in peace, and en- joy liberty of conscience. For who would abide in the sanctuary, after the carved work thereof is broken down, and when it hath been made a place for owls, and satyrs of the wilderness ? — And herein I blame my- self, madam, that I went in the singleness of my heart too readily into that carousing in the house of feasting, wherein my love of union, and my desire tashow re- spect to your ladyship, were made a snare to me. But PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 107 I trust it will be an atonement, that I am now about to absent myself trom the place of my birth, and the house of my fathers, as well a? from the place which holdeth the dust of those pledges of my affection. I have also to remember, that in this land my honour, (after the worldly estimation) hath been abated, and my utility circumscribed, by your husband, Sir Geoffrey Peveril 3 and that without any chance of my obtaining reparation at his hands, whereby 1 may say the hand of a kins- man was lifted up against my credit and my life. These things are bitter to the taste of the old Adam ; where- fore, to prevent farther bickerings, and, it may be, bloodshed, it is better that I leave this land for a time. The affairs which remain to be settled between Sir Geoffrey and myself, I shall place in the hand of the righteous Master Joachim Win-the-Fight, an attorney in Chester, who will arrange them with such attention to Sir Geoffrey's convenience, as justice, and the due exercise of the law, will permit; for, $s I trust I shall have grace to resist the temptation to make the wea- pons of carnal warfare the instruments of my revenge, so I scorn to effect it through the means of Mammon. Wishing, madam that the Lord may grant you every blessing, and in especial, that which is over all others, namely, the true knowledge of His way, 44 f remain, 1 " Your devoted servant to command, Ralph Bridgenorth. I Written at JWoultrassie-Hall '. this tenth day of July, 1660." o soon as Lady Peveril had perused this long and singular homily, in which it seemed to her that her neighbour showed more spirit of religious fanaticism lhan she could have supposed him possessed of, she looked up and beheld Ellesmere. — with a countenance in which mortification, and an affected air of contempt, seemed to struggle together, — who, tired with watching the expression of her' mistress's countenance, applied for confirmation of her suspicions in plain terms. " I suppose, madam," said the waiting woman, " the 108 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. fanatic fool intends to marry the wench? They say he goes to shift the country. Truly it's time, indeed ; for besides that the whole neighbourhood would laugh him to scorn. I should not be surprised if Lance Outram, the keeper, gave him a buck's head to bear; for that is all in the way of his office." " There is no great occasion for your spite at pre- sent, Ellesmere," replied her lady. " My letter says nothing of marriage ; but it would appear that Master Bridgenorth, being to leave this country, has engaged Deborah to take care of his child ; and I am sure I am heartily glad of it. for the infant's sake." " And 1 am glad of it for my own," said Ellesmere : ;i and, indeed, for the sake of the whole house.- — And your ladyship thinks she is not like to be married to him ? Troth I could never see how he should be such an idiot; but perhaps she is going to do worse, for she speaks here of coming to high preferment, and that scarce comes b^ honest servitude now-a-days ; thenshe writes me about sending her things, as if I were mis- tress of the wardrobe to her ladyship — ay, and recom- mends Master Julian to the care of my age and expe- rience, forsooth, as if she needed to recommend the dear little jewel to me ; and then, to speak of my age ■ — But I will bundle away her rags to the Hall, with a witness !" "Do it with all civility," said the lady, " and let Whitaker send her the wages for which she has served, and a broad-piece over and above ; for, though a light headed young woman, she was kind to the children."' " I know who is kind to their servants, madam, aj would spoil the best ever pinned a gown." " I spoiled a good one, Ellesmere, when I spoiled thee," said the lady; but tell Mistress Deborah to kiss 1-he little Alice for me, and to offer my good wishes to Major Bridgenorth, for his temporal and future happi- ness." She permitted no further observation or reply, but dismissed her attendant, without entering into farther particulars. When Ellesmere had withdrawn, Lady Peveril be- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 1 Of' gan to reflect, with much feeling of compassion, on the letter of Major Bridgenorth ; a person in whom there were certainly many excellent qualities, but whom a series ol domestic misfortunes, and the increasing gloom of a sincere, yet stern feeling of devotion, rendered lonely and unhappy; and she had more than one mxious thought for the happiness of the little Alice- brought up, as she was likely to be, under such a father. Still the removal of Bridgenorth was, on the whole, a desirable event: for while he remained at the Hall, it was but too likely that some accidental collision with Sir Geoffrey might give rise to a rencontre betwixv ihem, more fatal than the last had been, contrary to her wishes. In the meanwhile, she could not help expressing to Doctor Dummerar her surprise and sorrow, that all which he had done and attempted, to establish peace ind unanimity betwixt the contending factions, had been perversely fated to turn out the very reverse of what she had aimed at. / ' : But for my unhappy invitation,"' she said, " Bridge- north would not have been at the Castle on the morn- ing which succeeded the feast, would not have seen the Countess, and would not have incurred the resentment and'opposition of my husband. And but for the King's return, an event which was so anxiously expected as the ermination of all our calamities, neither the noble lady nor ourselves had been engaged in this new path of difficulty and danger." " Honoured madam," said Doctor Dummerar, "were the affairs of this world to be guided implicitly by hu- man wisdom, or were they uniformly to fall out ac- cording to the conjectures of human wisdom, or were they uniformly to fall out according to the conjectures of human foresight, events would no longer be under the domination of that time and chance, which happen unto all men, since we should, in the one case, work out our own purposes to a certainty, by our own skill, and in the other, regulate our-conduct according to the views of unerring presci- ence. But man is, while in this vale of tears, like an vol. i. 10 1 10 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. uninstrucled bowler, so to speak, who thinks to attain the jack by delivering his bowl straight forward upon it, being ignorant that there is a concealed bias within the spheroid, which will make it, in all probability, swerve away, and lose the cast. 5 ' Having spoken this with a sententious air, the Doc- tor took his shovel-shaped hat, and went down to the Castle green, to conclude a match of bowls with Whita- ker, which had probably suggested this notable illustra- tion of the uncertain course of human events. Two days afterward, Sir Geoffrey arrived. He had waited at Vale Royal till he heard of the Countess's being safely embarked for Man, and then had posted homewards to his Castle and Dame Margaret. On his way, he learned from some of his attendants, the mode in which his lady had conducted the entertainment which she had given to the neighbourhood at his order ; and notwithstanding the great deference he usually- showed in cases where Lady Peveril was concerned, he heard of her liberality towards the Presbyterian party with great indignation. " 1 could have admitted Bridgenorth," he said, " for he always bore him in neighbourly and kindly fashion till this last career — I could have endured him, so he would have drunk the King's health, like a true man — but to bring that snuffling scoundrel Solsgrace, with all his beggarly long-eared congregation, to hold a conven- ticle in my father's house — to let them domineer it as they listed — why, I would not have permitted them such liberty when they held their head the highest! They never, in the worst of times, found any way into Martindale Castle but what Noll's cannon made for them ; and, that they should come and cant there, when good King Charles is returned — By my hand. Dame Margaret shall hear of it !" But notwithstanding these ireful resolutions, resent- ment altogether subsided in the honest Knight's breast when he saw the fair features of his lady lightened with affectionate joy at his return in safety. As he took her in his arms and kissed her. he forgave her ere he men- tioned her offence. PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. HI *• Thou hast played the knave with me, Meg, 5 ' he said, shaking his head, and smiling at the same time, and thou knowest in what matter; but I think thou an true churchwoman, and didst only act from some silly womanish fancy of keeping fair with these roguish Roundheads. But let me have no more of this. I had rather Martindale Castle were again rent by their bul- lets, than receive any of the knaves in the way of friendship — I always except Ralph Bridgenorth of the Hall, if he should come to his senses again." Lady Peveril was here under the necessity of ex- plaining what she had heard of Master Bridgenorth — the disappearance of the gouvernante with his daugh- ter, and placed Bridgenorth's letter in his hand. Sir Geoffrey shook his head at first, and then laughed ex- tremely, at the idea that there was some little love- intrigue between Bridgenorth and Mistress Deborah. " It is the true end of a dissenter," he said, " to mar- ry his own maid-servant, or some other person's. De- borah is a good likely wench, and on the merrier side of thirty, as I should think." " Nay, nay," said the Lady Peveril, " you are as un- charitable as Ellesmere — I believe it bur to be affec- tion to his child." " Psha ! psha !" answered the Knight, " women are eternally thinking of children ; but among men, dame, many one caresses the infant that he may kiss the keeper; and where's the wonder or the harm either, if Bridgenorth should marry the wench ? Her father is a substantial yeoman ; his family has had the same farm since Bosworth-freld — as good a pedigree as that of the great-grandson of a Chesterfield brewer, 1 trow. But let us hear what he says for himself — I shall speU it out if there is any roguery in the letter about lovo and liking, though it might escape your innocence Dame Margaret." The Knight of the Peak began to peruse the letter accordingly, but was much embarrassed by the peculiar language in which it was couched. " What he means by moving Of candlesticks, and breaking down of car- ved work in the church, I cannot guess ; unless he means to bring back the large silver candlesticks which ill PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. my grandsire gave to be placed on the altar at Marti n- dale-Moultrassie ; and which his crop-eared friends, like sacrilegious villains as they are, stole and melted down. And in like manner, the only breaking I know of, was when they pulled down the rails of the com- munion table, (for which some of their fingers are hot enough by this time,) and when the brass ornaments were torn down from the Peveril monuments; and that was breaking and removing with a vengeance. How- ever, dame, the upshot is, that poor Bridgenorth is going to leave the neighbourhood. I am truly sorry for it, though I never saw him oftener than once a-day. and never spoke to him above two words. But I see how it is — that little shake by the shoulder sticks in his stomach ; and yet, Meg, I did but lift him out oi the saddle as I might have lifted thee into it, Margaret — 1 was careful not to hurt him ; and I did not think him so tender in point of honour as to mind such a thing much ; but I see plainly where his sore lies ; and { warrant you I will manage that he stays at the HalL and that you get back Julian's little companion. Faith. I am sorry myself at the thought of losing the baby, and of having to choose another ride when it is not hunting weather, than round by the Hall, with a word at the window." " I should be very glad, Sir Geoffrey," said Lady Pe- veril, "that you could come to a reconciliation with this worthy man, for such I must hold Bridgenorth to be." " But for his dissenting principles, as good a neigh- bour as ever lived," said Sir Geoffrey. " But I scarce see," continued the lady, " any possi- bility of bringing about a conclusion so desirable." "Tush, dame," answered the Knight; " thou know- est little of such matters. I know the foot he halts upon, and you shall see him go as sound as ever." Lady Peveril had, from her sincere affection and sound sense, as good a right to claim the full confi- dence of her husband, as any woman in Derbyshire ; and, upon this occasion, to confess the truth, she had more anxiety to know his purpose than her sense of fhe.r mutual and separate duties permitted her in gene- ral to entertain. She could not imagine what mode of TEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 113 reconciliation with his neighbour, Sir Geoffrey (no very acute judge. of mankind or their peculiarities) could have devised which might not be disclosed to her; and she felt some secret anxiety lest the means resorted to might be so ill chosen as to render the breach rather wider. But Sir Geoffrey would give no opening for further inquiry. He had been long enough colonel of a regiment abroad, to value himself on the right of absolute command at home; and to all the hints which his lady's ingenuity could devise and throw out, he only answered, "Patience, Dame Margaret, patience. This is no case for thy handling. Thou shalt know enough on't by and by, dame. — Go look to Julian. Will the boy never have done crying for lack of that little sprout of a Roundhead ? But we will have little Alice back with us in two or three days, and all will be well again.'" As the good Knight spoke these words, a post wind- ed his horn in the court, and a large packet was brought in, addressed to the worshipful Sir Geoffrey Peveril, justice of the peace, and so forth ; for he had been placed in authority so soon as the King's Restoration was put upon a settled basis. Upon opening the pack- et, which he did with no small feeling of importam e, he found that it contained the warrant which he had soli- cited for replacing Doctor Dummerarin the parish from which he had been forcibly ejected during the usurpa- tion. Few incidents could have given more delight to Sir Geoffrey. He could forgive a stout able-bodied secta- ry or non-conformist, who enforced his doctrines in the field by downright blows on the casques and cuirasses of himself and other Cavaliers. But he remembered, with most vindictive accuracy, the triumphant entrance of Kugh Peters through the breach of his Castle ; and for his sake, witliout nicely distinguishing betwixt sects or their teachers, he ht-ld all who mounted a pulpit with- out warrant from the Church of England — perhaps he might also in private except that of Rome — to be dis- turbers of the pub'ic tranquillity — seducers of the con- gregation from their lawful preachers — instigators of 10* 1 14- TEVERIL OF THE PEAK. the late Civil War — and men well disposed to risk the fate of a new one. Then, on the other hand, besides gratifying his dis- like to Solsgrace, he saw much gratification in the task of replacing his old friend and associate in sport and in danger, the worthy Doctor Dummerar, in his legitimate rights, and in the ease and comforts of his vicarage. He communicated the contents of the packet, with great triumph, to the lady, who now perceived the sense of the mysterious paragraph in Major Bridgenorth's letter, concerning the removal of the candlestick, and the ex- tinction of light and doctrine in the land. She pointed out this to. Sir Geoffrey, and endeavoured to persuade him that a door was now opened to reconciliation with his neighbour, by executing the commission which he had received in an easy and moderate manner, after due delay, and with all respect to the feelings both of Sols- grace and his congregation, which circumstances admit- ted of. This, the lady argued, would be doing no inju- ry whatsoever to Doctor Dummerar ; — nay, might be the means of reconciling many to his ministry who might otherwise be disgusted with it for ever, by the prema- ture expulsion of a favourite preacher. There was much wisdom, as uell as moderation, in this advice ; and at another time, Sir Geoffrey would have had sense enough to have adopted it. But who can act composedly or prudently in the hour of tri- umph f The ejection of Mr. Solsgrace was so hastily executed, as to give it some appearance of persecution; though, more justly considered, it was the restoring of his predecessor to his legal rights. Solsgrace himself seemed to be desirous to make his sufferings as mani- fest as possible. He held out to the last ; and on the Sabbath after he had received intimation of his ejec- tion, attempted to make his way to the pulpit, as usual. supported by Master Bridgenorth's attorney, VVin-tbe- Fight, and a few zealous followers. Just as this party came into the churchyard on the one side, Dr. Dummerar, dressed in full pontificals, in a sort of triumphal procession, accompanied by Peveril of the Peak, Sir Jasper Cranboume, and other Cava- liers of distinction, entered at the other. PEVERIL OF THE PSA*. 115 To prevent an actual struggle in the church, the pa- rish-officers were sent to prevent the farther approach of the Presbyterian minister ; which was effected with- out further damage than a broken head, inflicted by Roger Raine, the drunken inn-keeper of the Peveril arms, upon the Presbyterian attorney of Chesterfield. Unsubdued in spirit, though compelled to retreat by superior force, the undaunted Mr. Solsgrace retired to the vicarage ; where, under some legal pretext which had been started by iMr. Win-the-Fight, (in that day un- aptly named,) he attempted to maintain himself — bolt- ed gates — barred windows — and, as report said, (though falsely.) made provisions of fire-arms to resist the offi- cers. A scene of clamour and scandal accordingly took place, which being reported to Sir Geoffrey, he came in person, with some of his attendants carrying arms — forced the outer-gate and inner-doors of the house ; and proceeding to the study, found no other garrison save the Presbyterian parson, with the attorney, who gave up possession of the premises, after making protestation agamst the violence that had been used. The rabble of the village being by this time all in motion, Sir Geoffrey, both in prudence and in good na- ture, saw the propriety of 'escorting his prisoners, for so they might be termed, safely through the tumult; and accordingly conveyed them in person, through much noise and clamour, as far as the avenue of Moul- trassie-Hail, which they chose for the place of their retreat. But the absence of Sir Geoffrey gave way to some disorders, which, if present, he would assuredly have re- strained. Some of the minister's books were torn and flung about as treasonable and seditious trash, by the zealous parish-officers or their assistants. A quantity of his ale was drunken up in healths to the King, and Peveril of the Peak. And finally, the boys who bore the ex-parson no good will for his tyrannical interfe- rence with their games at skittles, foot-ball, and so forth, ana, moreover, remembered the unmerciful length of his sermons, dressed up an effigy with his Geneva gown and band, and his steeple-crowned hat, which they pa- raded through the village, and burnt on the spot whilom 1 16 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. occupied by a stately May-pole, which Solsgrace had formerly hewed down with his own reverend hands. Sir Geoffrey was vexed at all this, and sent to Mr, Solsgrace, offering satisfaction for the goods which he had lost; but the Calvinistical divine replied, "From a thread to a shoe-latchet, I will not take any thing that is thine. Let the shame of the work of thy hands abide with thee." Considerable scandal indeed arose against Sir Geof- frey Peveril, as having proceeded with indecent severity and baste upon this occasion ; and rumour look care to make the usual additions to the reality. It was cur- rently reported, that the desperate Cavalier, Peveril of the Peak, had fallen on a Presbyterian congrega- tion, while engaged in the peaceable exercise of religion, with a band of armed men — bad slain some, wounded desperately many more, and finally pursued the preach- er to his vicarage, which he burnt to the ground. Some alleged the clergyman had perished in the flames: and the most mitigated report bore, that he had only been able to escape, by disposing his gown, cap, and band, near a window, in such a manner as to deceive them with the idea of his person being surrounded by flames, while he himself escaped by T tbe back part of the house. And although few people believed in the extent of the atrocities thus imputed to our honest Cavalier, yet still enough of obloquy attached to him to infer very serious consequences, as the reader will learn at a future period of our history. CHAPTER IX. Bessus. Tis a challenge, sir, is it not ? Genlltman. 'Tis an inviting to the field. King and JYo A < For a day or two after his forcible expulsion from the vicarage, Mr. Solsgrace continued his residence at Moultrassie-Hall, where the natural melancholy at- tendant on his situation; added to the gloom of the owner PEYERIL OF THE PEAK. 117 of the rffimsion. In the morning the 'ejected divine made excursions to different families in the neighbour- hood, to whom his ministry had been acceptable in the days of his prosperity, and from whose grateful recol- lections of that period he now found sympathy and con- solation. He did not require to be condoled with, be- cause he was deprived of an easy and competent main- tenance, and thrust out upon the common of life, after he had reason to suppose he would be no longer liable to such mutations of fortune. The piety of Mr. Sols- grace was sincere ; and if he had many of the uncha- ritable prejudices against other sects, which polemical controversy had generated, and the Civil War brought to a head, he had also that deep sense of duty, by which enthusiasm is so often dignified, and held his very life little, if called upon to lay it down in attestation of the doctrines in which he believed. But he was soon to prepare for leaving the district which Heaven, he con- ceived, had assigned to him as his corner of the vine- yard ; he was to abandon his flock to the wolf — was to forsake those with whom he had held sweet counsel in religious communion — was to leave the recently con- verted to relapse into false doctrines, and forsake the wavering, whom his continued cares might have direct- ed into the right path — these were of themselves deep causes of sorrow, and were aggravated, doubtless, by those natural feelings with which all men, especially those whose duties or habits have confined them to a limited circle, regard the separation from wonted scenes, and their accustomed haunts of solitary musing or social intercourse. There was, indeed, a plan of placing Mr. Solsgrace at the head of a non-conforming congregation in his pre- sent parish, which his followers would have readily con- sented to endow with a sufficient revenue. Bat al- though the act for universal conformity was not yet passed, such a measure was understood to be impend- ing, and there existed a general opinion among the Presbyterians, that in no hands was it likely to be more strictly enforced than in those of Peveril of the Peak. Solsgrace himself considered not only his personal dan- 118 TEVERIL OP THE PEAK. ger as being considerable, — for, assuming pernaps more consequence than was actually attached to him or his productions, he conceived the honest Knight to be his mortal and determined enemy, — but he also conceived that he should serve the cause of his church by absent- ing himself from Derbyshire. " Less known pastors," he said, " though perhaps more worthy of the name, may be permitted to assem- ble the scattered flock in caverns or in secret wilds, and to them shall the gleaning of the grapes of Ephraim be better than the vintage of Abiezer. But I, that have so often carried the banner forth against the mighty — I, whose tongue hath testified, morning and evening, like the watchman upon the tower, against Popery. Prelacy, and the tyrant of the Peak — for me to abide here were but to bring the sword of bloody vengeance among you, that the shepherd might be smitten, and the sheep scattered. The shedders of blood have already assailed me, even within that ground which they them- selves call consecrated ; and yourselves have seen the scalp of the righteous broken, as he defended my cause. Therefore, I will put on my sandals, and gird my loins, and depart to a far country, and there do as my duty shall call upon me, whether it be to act or to suffer — to bear testimony at the stake or in the pulpit." Such were the sentiments which Mr. Solsgrace ex- pressed to his desponding friends, and which he expa- tiated upon at more length with Major Bridgcnorth : not failing, with friendly zeal, to rebuke the haste which the latter had shown, to thrust out the hand of fellow- ship to the Amalekite woman, whereby he reminded him, " Pie had been rendered her slave and bondsman for a season, like Samson, betrayed by Delilah, and might have remained longer in the house of Dagon, had not Heaven pointed to him a way out of the snare. Also, it sprung originally from the Major's going up to feast in the high place of Baal, that he who was the champion of the truth was stricken down, and put to shame by the enemy, even in the presence of the host." These objurgations seeming to give some offence to Major Bridgenorth, who liked, no better than any other. PEVER1L OF THE TEAK. 119 man, to hear of his own mishaps, and at the same time to have them imputed to his own misconduct, the wor- thy divine proceeded to take shame to himself for his own sinful compliance in that matter ; for to the ven- geance justly due for that unlucky dinner at Martindale Castle, (which was, he said, a crying of peace when there was no peace, and a dwelling in the tents of sin,) he imputed his ejection from his living, with the de- struction of some of his most pithy and highly prized volumes of divinity, with the loss of his cap, gown, and band, and a double hogshead of choice Derby ale. The mind of Major Bridgenorth was strongly tinged with devotional feeling, which his late misfortunes had rendered more deep and solemn ; and it is, therefore, no wonder that when he heard these arguments urged again and again, by a pastor whom he so much res- pected, and who was now a confessor in the cause of their joint faith, he began to look back with disappro- val on his own conduct, and to suspect that he had per- mitted himself to be seduced by gratitude towards Lady Peveril, and by her special arguments in favour of a mutual and tolerating liberality of sentiments, into an action which had a tendency to compromise his reli- gious and political principles. One morning, as Major Bridgenorth had wearied himself with several details respecting the arrange- ment of his affairs, he was reposing in the leathern easy chair, beside the latticed window, a posture which, by natural association, recalled to him the memory of for- mer times, and the feelings with which he was wont to expect the recurring visit of Sir Geoffrey, who brought him news of his child's welfare, — "Surely," he said, thinking, as it were, aloud, " there was no sin in the kindness with which 1 then regarded that man.'' Solsgrace, who was in the apartment, and guessed what passed through his friend's mind, acquainted as he was with every point of his history, replied, — "When God caused Elijah to be fed by ravens, while hiding at the brook Cherith, we hear not of his fondling the un- clean birds, whom, contrary to their ravening nature, a miracle compelled to minister to him." 120 FEVERIL OP THE PEAK* " It may be so,'' answered Bridgenorth, " yet the flap of their wings must have been gracious in the ear of the famished prophet, like the tread of his horse in mine. The ravens, doubtless, resumed their nature when the season was passed, and even so it has fared with him. — Hark!" he exclaimed, starting, " I hear his horse's hoof-tramp even now." It was seldom that the echoes of that silent house and court-yard were awakened by the trampling of horses,. but sudi was now the case. Both Bridgenorth and Solsgrace were surprised at the sound, and even disposed to anticipate some further oppression on the part of government, when the Ma- jor's old servant introduced, with little ceremony, (for his manners were nearly as plain as his master's,) a tall gentleman, on the farther side of middle life, whose vest and cloak, long hair, slouched hat, and drooping feather, announced him as a Cavalier. He bowed for- mally, but courteously, to both gentlemen, and said, that he was " Sir Jasper Cranbourne, charged with an especial message to Master Ralph Bridgenorth, of Moultrassie Hall, by his honourable friend Sir Geoffrey Feveriiofthe Peak, and that he requested to know whether Master Bridgenorth would be pleased to re- ceive his acquittal of commission here or elsewhere.'' " Any thing which Sir Geoffrey Peveril can have to say to me," said Major Bridgenorth, "may be told in- stantly, and before my friend, from whom I have no secrets." " The presence of any other friend were, instead of being objectionable, the thing in the world most to be desired," said Sir Jasper, after a moment's hesitation, and looking at Mr. Solsgrace; "but this gentleman seems to be a sort of clergyman." " I am not conscious of any secrets," answered Bridgenorth, " nor do 1 desire to have any, in which a clergyman is an unfitting confidant." " At your pleasure," replied Sir Jasper. " The con- fidence, for aught I know, may be well enough chosen, for your divines (always underyour favour) have proved no enemies to such matters as I am to treat with you PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 121 "Proceed, sir," answered Mr. Bridgenorth, gravely : •'and I pray )ou to be seated, unless it is rather your pleasure to stand." u l must, in the first place, deliver myself of my small commission, '' answered Sir Jasper, drawing him- self up ; " and it will be after I have seen the reception thereof, that I shall know whether I am, or am not, to sit down at Moultrassie-Hall — Sir Geoffrey Pevenl, Mas- ter Bridgenorth, haih carefully considered with him- self the unhappy circumstances which at present sepa- rate you as neighbours. And he remembers many passages in former times — 1 speak his very words — - which incline him to do all that can possibly consist with his honour to wipe out unkindness between you ; and for this desirable object, he is willing to condescend in a degree, which as you could not have expected, it; will no doubt give you great pleasure to learn." " Allow me to say, Sir Jasper," said Bridgenorth, " that this is unnecessary. I have made no complaints of Sir Geoffrey — I have required no submission from him— I am about to leave this country ; and what affairs we may have together, can be as well settled by others as by ourselves." "In a word." said the divine, " the worthy Major Bridgenorth hath had enough of trafficking with the ungodly, and will no longer, on any terms, consort with them." " Gentlemen both," said Sir Jasper, with imperturba- ble politeness, bowing, " you greatly mistake the tenor of my commission, which you will do as well to hear out, before making any reply to it. — 1 think, Master Bridge- north, you cannot but remember your letterto the Lady Peveril, of which I have here a rough copy, in which you complain of the hard measure which you have re- ceived at Sir Geoffrey's hand, and in particular, when he pulled you % from your horse at or near Hatley-Nick. Now, Sir Geoffrey thinks so well of you, as to believe, that, were it not for the wide difference betwixt his de- scent and rank and your own, you would have sought to bring this matter to a gentleman-like arbitrement as the only mode whereby your stain may be honoura- vet. j. 11 122 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. bly wiped away. Wherefore, in this slight note, he gives you, in his generosity, the offer of what you, in your modesty, (for to nothing else does he impute your acquiescence,) have declined to demand of him. And withal, I bring you the measure of his weapon; and when you have accepted the cartel which I now offer you, I shall be ready to settle the time, place, and other circumstances of your meeting." " And 1," said Solsgrace, wuha solemn voice, "should the author of evil tempt my fiiend to accept of so blood- thirsty a proposal, would be the hist to pronounce against him sentence of the greater excommunication." " It is not you whom 1 address, reverend sir," re- plied the envoy ; ^ your interest, not unnaturally, may determine you to be more anxious about your patron's life than about his honour. 1 must know, from himself; to which he is disposed to give the preference." So saying, and with a graceful bow, he again tendered the challenge to Major Bridgenorth. There was ob- viously a struggle in that gentleman's bosom between the suggestions of human honour and those of religious principle ; but the latter prevailed. He calmly waived receiving the paper which Sir Jasper offered to him. and spoke to the following purpose. " It may not be known to you, Sir Jasper, that since the general pour- ing out of Christian light upon this kingdom, many solid men have been led to doubt whether the shedding hu- man blood by the hand of a fellow-creature be in t respect justifiable. And although this rule appears to me to be scarcely applicable to our state in this stage of trial, seeing that such non-resistance, if general, would surrender our civil and religious rights into the hands of Whatsoever daring tyrants might usurp the same ; yet I am, and have been, inclined to limit the use of carnal arms to the case of necessary self-defence, whether such regards our own person, or the protec- tion of our country against invasion ; or of our rights of property, and the freedom of our laws and of our con- science, against usurping power. And as I have never shown myself unwilling to draw my sword in any of the latter causes, so you shall excuse my suffering it now te ■^ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 123 remain in the scabbard, when, having sustained a grie- vous injury, the man who inflicted it summons me to combat, either upon an idle punctilio, or, as is more likely, in mere bravado." " I have heard you vith patience,'* said Sir Jasper : : ' and now, Master Bridgenorth, take it not amiss if 1 beseech you to bethink yourself better on this matter, i vow to Heaven, sir, that your honour lies a-bleeding ; and that in condescending lo afford you this fair meet- ing, and thereby giving you some chance to stop its wounds, Sir Geoffrey has been moved by a tender sense of your condition, and an earnest wish to redeem your dishonour. And it will be but the crossing of your blade with his honoured sword for the space of some few minutes, and you will either live or die a noble and honoured gentleman. Besides, that the Knight's exquisite skill offence may enable him, as his goodna- ture will incline him, to disarm you with some flesh wound, little to the damage of your person, and greatly to the benefit of your reputation." " The tender mercies of the wicked," said Master Solsgrace, emphatically, by way of commenting on this speech, which Sir Jasper had uttered very pathetically, ; 'are cruel." " I pray to have no further interruption from your reverence," said Sir Jasper; u especially as I think this affair very little concerns you; and 1 entreat that you permit me to discharge myself regularly of my com- mission from my worthy friend." So saying, he took his sheathed rapier from his belt, and passing the point through the silk thread which se- cured the letter, he once more, and literally at sword point, gracefully tendered it to Major Bridgenorth, who again waved it aside, though colouring deeply at the same time, as if he was putting a marked constraint upon himself — drew back, and made Sir Jasper Cran- bourne a deep' bow. ik Since it is to be thus," said Sir Jasper, " I must myself do violence to the seal of Sir Geoffrey's letter, and read it to you, that I may fully acquit myself of the charge intrusted to me, and make you, Master Bridge- 124. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. north, equally aware of the generous intentions of Sii Geoffrey on your behalf." " If," said iMajor Bridgenorth, " the contents of the letter be to no other purpose than you have intimated, methinks farther ceremony is unnecessary on this occa- sion, as I have already taken my course." "Nevertheless," said Sir Jasper, breaking open the letter, " it is fitting that I read to you the letter of my worshipful friend." And he read accordingly as fol- lows: — " For the worthy hands of Ralph Bridgenorth, Esquire, of Moultrassie-Hall — These , By the honoured conveyance of the Worshipful Sir Jasper Cranbourne, Knight, of Long Maliington. MASTER BRIDGENORTH, We have been given to understand by your letter to our loving wife, Dame Margaret Peveril, that you hold hard construction of certain passages betwixt you and me, of a late date, as if your honour should have been, in some sort, prejudiced by what then took place. And although you have not thought it fit to have direct re- course to me, to request such satisfaction as is due from one gentleman of condition to another, yet I am fully minded that this proceeds only from modesty, arising out of the distinction of our degree, and from no lack of that courage which you have heretofore displayed, I would I could say in a good cause. Wherefore, I am purposed to give you, by my friend Sir Jasper Cran- bourne, a meeting, for the sake of doing that which doubtless you entirely long for. Sir Jasper will deliver you the length of my weapon, and appoint circumstan- ces and an hour for our meeting ; which, whether early or late — on foot or horseback — with rapier or back- sword — I refer to yourself, with all the other privileges of a challenged person; only desiring, that if you de- cline to match my weapon, you will send me forthwith the length and breadth of your own. And nothing doubting that the issue of this meeting must needs be to PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ISO end, in one way or other, all unkindness betwixt two near neighbours, I remain, Your humble servant to command, Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak* " Given from my poor house of Martindaie Castle, this same of sixteen hundred and sixty." " Bear back my respects to Sir Geoffrey Peveril,'" said Major Bridgenorth. u According to his light, his meaning may be fair towards me; but tell him that our quarrel had its rise in his own wilful aggression towards me ; and that though I wish to be in charity with alj mankind, I am not so wedded to his friendship as to break the laws of God, and run the risk of suffering or committing murder, in order to regain it. And for you, sir, methinks your advancing years and past misfortunes may teach you the folly of coming on such idle errands.*- " I shall do your message, Master Ralph Bridgenorth,'* said Sir Jasper ; " and shall then endeavour to forget your name, as a sound unfit to be pronounced, or even remembered, by a man of honour, in the meanwhile, in return for your uncivil advice, be pleased to accept of mine ; namely, that as your religion prevents your giving a gentleman satisfaction, it ought to make you very cautious of offering him provocation." So saying, and with a look of haughty scorn, first at the Major and then at the divine, the envoy of Sir Geoffrey put his hat on his head, replaced his rapier in its belt, and left the apartment, in a (ew minutes af- terward, the tread of his horse died away at a consi- derable distance. Bridgenorth had held his hand upon his brow ever since his departure, and a tear of anger and shame was on his face as he raised it when the sound was heard no more. " He carries this answer to Martindaie Castie,'" he said. " itien will hereafter think of me as a whip- ped, beaten, dishonourable fellow, whom every one may baffle and insult at their pleasure. It is well I am leav- ing the house of my father." Master SoJsgrace approached his friend with much U* '-26 PEVEfttL Of THE PEAK. sympathy, and grasped him by the hand. ;i Noble bro- ther," he said, with unwonted kindness of manner. " though a man of peace, I can judge what this sacrifice hath cost to thy manly spirit. But God will not have from us an imperfect obedience. We must not, like Ananias and Sapphira, reserve behind some darling lust, some favourite sin, while we pretend to make sa- crifice of our worldly affections. What avails it to say that we have but secreted a little matter, if the slightest remnant of the accursed thing remain hidden in our tent ? Would it be a defence in thy prayers to say, 1 have not murthered this man for the lucre of gain, like a robber — nor for the acquisition of power, like a ty- rant — nor for the gratification of revenge, like a dark- ened savage ; but because the imperious voice of world- ly honour said, ' Go forth — kill or be killed — is it not I that have sent thee V Bethink thee, my worthy friend* how thou couldst frame such a vindication in thy prayers ; and if thou art forced to tremble at the blasphemy of such an excuse, remember in thy prayers the thanks due to Heaven, which enabled you to resist the strong temptation." " Reverend and dear friend," answered Bridgenorth. ^ I feel that you speak the truth. Bitterer, indeed, and harder, to the old Adam, is the text which ordains him to suffer shame, than that which bids him to do valiantly for the truth. But happy am 1 that my path through the wilderness of this world will, for some space at least, be along with one, whose zeal and friendship are so active to support me when I am fainting in the way." While the inhabitants of Moultrassie-Hall thus com- municated together upon the purport of Sir Jasper Oranbourne's visit, that worthy Knight greatly excited the surprise of Sir Geoffrey Peverii, by reporting the manner in which his embassy had been received. " I took him for a man of other metal," said Sir Geoffrey ; — " nay, I would have sworn it had any one asked my testimony. But there's no making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. I have done a folly for him that 1 will never do for another ; and that is, to think a Presbyterian would fight without his preachers per- PEVEIUL OF the: peak. 127 mission. Give them a two hours sermon, and let them howl a psalm to a tune that is worse than the cries of a flogged hound, and the villains will lay on like threshers: but for a calm, cool, gentlemanlike turn upon the sod ; hand to hand, in a neighbourly way, they have not ho- nour enough to undertake it. But enough of our crop- eared cur of a neighbour. — Sir Jasper, you will tarry with us to dine, and see how Darne Margaret's kitchen smokes ; and after dinner J will show you a long-winged falcon fly. She is not mine, but the Countess's, who brought her from London on her list almost the whole way, for all the haste she was in, and left her with me to keep the perch for a season." This match was soon arranged ; and Dame Marga- ret overheard the good Knight's resentment mutter it- self off, with those feelings with which we liste^ to the last growling of the thunder-storm ; which, as theflblack sinks behind the hill, at once assures us that there has been danger, and that the peril is over. She could not. indeed, but marvel in her own mind at the singular path of reconciliation with his neighbour which her husband had, with so much confidence, and in the actual sincerity of his good will to Ma-ter Bridgenorth, at- tempted to open ; and she blessed God internally thai it had not terminated in bloodshed. But these reflec- tions she locked carefully within her own bosom, well knowing that they referred to subjects in which the Knight of the Peak would neither permit his sagacity to be called in question nor his will to be controlled. The progress of the history hath hitherto been slow ; but after this period so little matter worthy of remark occurred at Martindale, that we must hurry over hastily the transactions of several years. PEVERIL OR THE TEAK CHAPTRER X. Cleopatra. Give me to drink mandragoi'a ; That 1 may sleep away this gap of time. Antony and Cleopatra. There passed, as we hinted at the conclusion of the Fast chapter, four or five years after the period we have dilated^jipon ; the events of which scarcely require to be d#cussed, so far as our present purpose is concern ed, in as many lines. The Knight and his lady con- tinued to reside at their Castle — she, with prudence and with patience, endeavouring to repair the damages which the Civil Wars had inflicted upon their fortune: and murmuring a little when her plans of economy were interrupted by the liberal hospitality which was her husband's principal expense, and to which he was attached, not only from his own English heartiness of disposition, but from ideas of maintaining the dignity of his ancestry — no less remarkable, according to the traditions of their buttery, kitchen, and cellar, for the fat beeves which they roasted, and the mighty ale which they brewed, than for their extensive estates, and the number of their retainers. The world, however, upon the whole, went happilv and easily with the worthy couple. Sir Geoffrey's debt to his neighbour Bridgenorth continued it is true, unabated : but he was the only creditor upon the Mar- tindale estate — all others being paid off. It would have been most desirable that this encumbrance also should be cleared, and it was the great object of Dame Margarets economy to effect the discharge ; for although interest was regularly settled with Master Win-the-nght, the TEVERIL OF "THE PEAK. 229 Chesterfield attorney, yet the principal sum, which was a large one, might be called for at an inconvenient time* The man, too, was gloomy, important, and mysterious, and always seemed as if he was thinking upon his bro- ken head in the churchyard of Martindale cum Moul- trassie. Dame Margaret sometimes transacted the necessary business with him in person 5 and when he came to the Castle on these occasions, she thought she saw a mali- cious and disobliging expression in his manner and coun- tenance. Yet his actual conduct was not only fair, but liberal; for indulgence was given, in the way of delay of payment, whenever circumstances rendered it ne- cessary to the debtor to require it. It seemed to Lady Peveril, that the agent, in such cases, was acting under the strict orders of his absent employer, concerning whose welfare she could not help feeling a certain anxiety. Shortly after the failure of the singular negotiation for attaining peace by combat, which Peveril had at- tempted to open with Major Bridgenorth, that gentle- man left his seat of Moultrassie-Hall in the care of his old housekeeper, and departed, no one knew whither, having in company with him the Reverend Master Sols- grace, with his daughter Alice and Mrs. Deborah Deb- bitch, now formally installed into all the duties of a gouvernante. For some time public rumour persisted in asserting, that Major Bridgenorth had only retreated to a distant part of the country for a season to achieve his supposed purpose of marrying Mrs. Deborah, and of letting the news be cold, and the laugh of the neigh- bourhood be ended, ere he brought her down as mis- tress of Moultrassie-Hall. This rumour died away ; and it was then affirmed, that he had gone to foreign parts to ensure the continuance of health in so delicate a constitutions that of little Alice. But when the Major's dread of Popery was remembered, together with the still deeper antipathies of worthy Master Ne- hemiah Solsgrace, it was resolved unanimously, that nothing less than what they might deem a fair chance 130 PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. of converting the Pope would have induced the parties to trust themselves within Catholic dominions. The most prevailing opinion was, that they were gone to New England, the refuge then of many whom too inti- mate concern with the affairs of the iate times, or the desire of enjoying uncontrolled freedom of conscience^ had induced to emigrate from Britain. Ladv Peveril could not help entertaining a vague idea, that Bridgenorlh was not so distant. The ex- treme order in which every thing was maintained at Moultrassie-Hall seemed — no disparagement to the care of Dame Dickens, the housekeeper, and the other persons engaged — to argue, that the master's eye wa6 not so very far off but what its occasional inspection might be apprehended. It is true, that neither the do- mestics nor the attorney answered any questions re- specting the residence of Master Bridgenorth ; but there was an air of mystery about them when interro- gated, that seemed to argue more than met the ear. About tive years after Master Bridgenorth had left the country, a singular incident took place. Sir Geof- frey was absent at the Chesterfield races, and Lady Peveril, who was in the habit of walking around every part of the neighbourhood unattended, or only accom- panied by Ellesmere, or her little boy, had gone down one evening upon a charitable errand to a solitary hut whose inhabitant lay 'sick of a fever, which was sup- posed to be infectious. Lady Peveril never allowed apprehensions of this kind to stop u devoted charitable deeds;" but she did not choose lo expose either her son or her attendant to the risk which she herself, in some confidence that she knew precautions for esca- ping the danger, did not hesitate to incur. Lady Peveril had set out at a late hour in the evening, and the way proved longer than she expected — several circumstances also occurring to detain her at the hut of her patient. It was a broad autumn moon-light, when she prepared to return homeward through the broken glades and upland which divided her from the Castle. This she considered as a matter of very litfl* PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 131 importance, in so quiet and sequestered a country, where the road lay chiefly through her own domains, especially as she had a lad about fifteen years old, the son of her patient, to escort her on the way. The dis- tance was better.than two miles, but might be consi- derably abridged by passing through an avenue belong- ing to the estate of Moultrassie-Hall, which she had avoided as she came, not from the ridiculous rumours which pronounced it to be haunted, but because her husband was much displeased when any attempt was made to render the walks of the Castle and Hall com- mon to the inhabitants of both. The good lady, in con- sideration, perhaps, of extensive latitude allowed to her in the more important concerns of the family, made a point of never interfering with her husband's whims or prejudices ; and it is a compromise which we would heartily recommend to all managing matrons of our acquaintance ; for it is surprising how much real power will be cheerfully resigned to the fair sex, for the plea- sure of being allowed to ride one's hobby in peace and quiet. Upon the present occasion, however, although the Dobby's Walk was within the inhibited domains of the Hall, the Lady Peveril determined to avail herself of it, for the purpose of shortening her road home, and she directed her steps accordingly. But when the peasant- boy, her companion, who had hitherto followed her. whistling cheerily, with a hedge-bill in his hand, and his hat on one side, perceived that she turned to the stile which entered to the Dobby's Walk, he showed symptoms of great fear, and, at length, coming to the - side, petitioned her, in a whimpering tone, — • ; Don't ye now — don't ye now, my lady, don't ye go yonder.*' Lady Peveril, observing that his teeth chattered in his head, and that his whole person exhibited great :»igns of terror, began to recollect the report, that the first Squire of Moultrassje, the brewer of Chesterfield aforesaid, who had bought the estate, and then died of melancholy, for lack of something to do, (and, as was said, not without suspicion of suicide,) was supposed to 132 PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. walk in this sequestered avenue, accompanied by a large headless mastiff, which, when he was alive, and had his head, was a particular favourite of the ex-brewer* To have expected any protection from her escort, in the condition to which superstitious fear had reduced him, would have heen truly a hopeles's trust ; and Lady Peveril, who was not apprehensive of any danger, thought there would be great cruelty in dragging the cowardly boy into a scene which he regarded with so much apprehension. She gave him, therefore, a silver piece, and permitted him to return. The latter boon seemed even more acceptable than the first ; for ere she could return the purse into her pocket, she heard the wooden clogs of her bold convoy in full retreat, by the way from whence they came. Smiling within herself at the fear she esteemed so ludicrous, Ladv Peveril ascended the stile, and was soon hidden from the broad light of the moonbeams, by the numerous and entangled boughs of the huge elms, which meeting from either side, totally overarch- ed the old avenue. The scene was calculated to excite solemn thoughts ; and the distant glimmer of a light from one of the numerous casements in the front of Moultrassie-Hall, which lay at some distance, was cal- culated to make them even melancholy. She thought of the fate of that family — of the deceased Mrs. Bridgenorth, with whom she had often walked in this very avenue, and who, though a woman of no high parts or accomplishments, had always testified the deepest respect, and the most earnest gratitude, for such notice as she had shown to her. She thought of her blighted hopes — her premature death — the despair of her self-banished husband — the uncertain fate of their orphan child, for whom she feit, even at this distance of time, some touch of a mother's affection. Upon such sad subjects her thoughts were turned, when, just as she attained the middle of the avenue, the imperfect and chequered light which found its way through the sylvan archway, showed her something which resembled the figure of a man, Lady Peveril paused PETERIL Of THE PEAK. 183 a moment, but instantly advanced; — her bosom, per- haps, gave one startled throb, as a debt to the su- perstitious belief <>f the times, but she instantly repell- ed the thought of supernatural appearances. From those that were merely mortal, she had nothing to fear. A marauder <»n the game was the worst character whom she was like to encounter; and he would be sure to hide himself from iivr observation. She advanced, accordingly, steadily: and. as she did so, had the sa- tisfaction to observe, that the figure, as she expected, crave place to her. and ul'nhd away amongst the trees on the left hand side of the avenue. As she passed the spot on which the form had been so lately visible, and bethought herself that this wanderer of the night might, nay must, fie in her vicinity, her resolution could not prevent her mending her pace, and that with so little precaution, that, stumbling over the limb of a tree, which, twisted off by a late tempest, stiil lay in the avenue, she fell, and, as she fell, screamed aloud. A strong hand in a moment afterwards added to her fear by assisting her to rise, and a voice, to whose accents she was not a stranger, though they hid been long un- heard, said, i; Is it not you Lady l'everil ? " { ' It is I," said she, commanding her astonishment and fear; "and if my ear deceive me not, I speak to Mas- ter liridgenorth." "I was that man/' said he "while oppression left me a name." He spoke nothing more, but continued to walk be- side her for a minute or two in silence She felt her situation embarrassing ; and, to divert it of that feeling, as well as out of real interest in the question, she asked him, t; How her god-daughter Alice now was? " "Of god-daughter, madam," answered Major Bridge- north. •• I know nothing; that behig one of the names which have been introduced, to the corruption and pol- lution of (/ > I .> ord: lances The infant who owed to yourjjadyship (^o called) her escape from disease and death, is a healthy and thriving girl, as I am given to ■net by those in whose charge she is lodged, for I have iot lately seen her. And it is even tne recol- v<>- . r. 12 134 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. lection of these passages, which in a manner impelled me, alarmed also by your fall, to offer myself to you in this time and mode, which, in other respects, is no way consistent with my present safety." " With your safety, Master Bridgenorth ? " said the Lady Peveril ; " surely I could never have thought that it was in danger ? " "You have some news, then, yet to learn, madam," Said Major Bridgenorth; "but you will hear, in the course of to-morrow, reasons why 1 dare not appear openly in the neighbourhood of my own property, and wherefore there is small judgment in committing the knowledge of my present residence to any one connect- ed with Martindale Castle." "Master Bridgenorth," said the lady, "you were, in former times, prudent and cautious — 1 hope you have been misled by no hasty impression — by no rash scheme __I hope -" "Pardon my interrupting you madam," said Bridge- north. " I have indeed been changed — ay, my very heart within me has been changed. In the times to which your ladyship (so called) thinks proper to refer, I was a man of this world — bestowing on it all my thoughts — all my actions, save formal observances — little deeming what was the duty of a Christian man, and how far his self-denial ought to extend — even unto giving all as if he gave nothing. Hence, I thought chiefly on carnal things — on the adding of field to field, and wealth to wealth — of the balancing between party and party-securing a friend here, without losing a friend there — But Heaven smote me for my apostacy r , the ra- ther that I abused the name of religion, as a self-seek- er, and a most blinded and carnal will-worshipper — But I thank Him who hath at length brought me out of Egypt." In our day — although we have many instances of en- thusiasm among us — we might still suspect one who avowed it thus suddenly and broadly, of hypocrisy, or of insanity; but, according to the fashion of the times, such opinions as those which Bridgenorth expressed, were openly avowed, as the ruling motives of men's ac- PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. lo5 tions. The sagacious Vane — the brave and skilful Har- rison — were men who acted avowedly under the influ- ence of such. Lady Peveril, therefore, was more griev- ed than surprised at the language she heard Major Bridgenorth use, and reasonably concluded, that the society and circumstances in which he might lately have been engaged, had blown into a flame the spark of eccentricity which always smouldered in his bosom. This was the more probable, considering that he was melancholy by constitution and descent — that he had been unfortunate in several particulars — and that no passion is more easily nursed by indulgence, than the species of enthusiasm of which he now showed tokens. She, therefore, answered him by calmly hoping, " That the expression of his sentiments had not involved him in suspicion or in danger." "In suspicion, madam?" answered the Major; — for I cannot forbear giving to you, such is the strength of habit," one of those idle titles by which we poor pot- sherds are wont, in our pride, to denominate each other — I walk not only in suspicion, but in that degree of danger, that, were your husband to meet me at this in- stant — me, a native Englishman, treading on my own lands — I have no doubt he would do his best to offer me to the Moloch of Romish superstition, who now rages abroad for victims among God's people. t; You surprise me by your language, Major Bridge- north," said the lady, who now felt rather anxious to be relieved from his compaii}^, and with that purpose walked on somewhat hastily. He mended his pace, however, and kept close by her side. "Know you not," said he, "that Satan hath come down upon earth with great wrath, because his time is short? The next to the crown is an avowed Papist; and who dare assert, save sycophants and time-servers, that he who wears it is not equally ready to stoop to Rome, were he not kept in awe by a few noble spirits in the Commons' House ? You believe not this — yet in \»y solitary and midnight walks, when I thought on your kindness to the dead and to the living, it was my 136 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. prayer that I might have the means granted to warn you — and lp! Heaven hath heard me." "ftlajor Bridgenorth.' said Lady Peveril, "you were wont U- be m&cierate, in those sentiments — compara- tively moderate, at least, and to loveyoui own religion, without hating that of others." '5 What I was while in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity, it signifies not to recal, ' answered he. t; I was then like to Gallio, who < ared Tor none of these things, i doated on creature-comforts — I clung to worldly honour and repute — my thoughts were earth- ward — or those j turned to Heaven were cold, formal, pharasalcal meditations — i brought nothing to the al- tar savd&traw and stubble. Heaven saw need to chas- tise me in Jove — J was stripped of a!I that i clung to on earth — my worldly honour was torn from nit — 1 went forth an exile from the home oi* my fathers, a deprived and a desolate man — a baffled, and beaten, and disho- noured man. But who shall £\u\ out the ways of Pro- vidence ? Such were the means by which I was chosen forth as a champion for the truth — holding my life as nothing, if thereby that may be advanced. But this was not what I wished to speak of. Thou hast saved the earthly life ol my child — let me save the eternal welfare of yours/' Lady Peveril was silent. They were now approach- ing the point where the avenue terminated in a com- munication with a public road, oi rather pathway, run- ning through an uninclosed common field ; this the lady had to prosecute for a little way, until a turn of the path gave her admittance into the park of Martindale. She now felt sincerely anxious to be in the open moon- shine, and avoided reply to Bridgenorih that she might make the more haste. But as they reached the junc- tion of the avenue and the public road, he laid his hand on her arm, and commanded rather than requested her to stop. She obeyed. lie pointed to a huge oak-, of the largest size, which grew on tns summit of a knoll in the open ground which terminated the avenue, and was exactly so placed as to serve for a termination to the vista. The moonshine withe ut the avenue was so PEVERIL OF THE P^AK. 137 strong, that amidst the flood of light which it poured on the venerable tree, they could easily discover, from the shattered state of the boughs on one side, that it had suffered damage from lightning. "Remember you," lie said, " when we last looked together on that tree? I had ridden from London, and brought with me a pro- tection from the committee for your husband ; and as I passed the spot — here on this spot where we now stand, you stood with my lost Alice — two — the last two of my beloved infants gambolled before you. I leaped from my horse — to her I was a husband — to those a father — to you a welcome and revered protector — What am I now to any one r" He pressed his hand on his brow, and groaned in agony of spirit. Jt was not in Lady Peveril's nature to hear sorrow without an attempt at consolation. " Master Bridge- north," she said, '• I blame no man's creed, while I be- lieve and follow my own ; and I rejoice that in yours you have sought consolation for temporal afflictions. But does not every Christian creed teach us alike, that affliction should soften our heart ?" " Ay woman," said Bridgenorlh, sternly, " as the lightning which shattered yonder oak hath softened its trunk. No ; the seared wood is the fitter for the use of the workman- — the hardened and the dried-up heart is that which can best bear the task imposed by these dismal times. God and man will no longer endure the unbridled profligacy of the dissolute — the scoffing of the profane — the contempt of the divine law — the infraction of human rights. The times demand right- ers and avengers, and there will be no want of them." " I deny not the existence of much evil," said Lady Peveril, compelling herself to answer, and beginning at the same time to walk forward ; " and from hearsay, though not, I than!; Heaven, from observation, I am convinced of, the wild debauchery of the times. -But let us trust it may be corrected without such violent remedies as you hint at. Surely the ruin of a second civil war — tncugii I trust your thoughts go not that dreadful It ogth — were, at best, a desperate alternative." M Sharp, but sure, ' replied JBridgenorth, " The 12* l3S PEVEIilL OF THE PEAK. blood of the Paschal Iamb chased away the destroying angel — the sacrifices offered on th<> threshing-floor of Araunah, stayed the pestilence. Fire and sword are severe remedies, but they purge and purify. ' "Alas! Major Bi -idgeiiorth," said the lady, "wise and moderate in your vouih, can you have adopted in your advanced life the thoughts and language of those whom you yoursell beheld drive themselves and the na- tion to the brink of ruin r" " 1 know not what I then was — you know not what I now am, " he replied, and suddenly broke oJf; for they even then came forth into t lie open light, and it seemed as if, feeling himself under the lady's eye, he was disposed to soften his tone and his language. At the first distinct view which she had of his person, she was aw are that he was armed with a short sword, a poniard, and pistols at his belt — precautions very unusual for a man who formerly had seldom, and only on days of ceremony, carried a walking rapier, though such was the habitual and constant practice of gentle- men of his station in life. There seemed also some- thing of more stern determination than usual in his air, which indeed had always been rather sullen than affable ; and ere she could repress the sentiment, she could not help saying; " Master Bridgenorth, you are indeed changed." " You. see but the outward man,"' he replied ; " the change within is yet deeper. But it was not of myself that I desired to talk — I have already said, thai as you have preserved my child from the darkness ei the grave, I would willingly preserve yours from that more utter darkness, which, 1 fear, hath involved the path and walks of his father." " 1 must not hear this of Sir Geoffrey," said the Lady Peveril ; " I must bid you farewel for the present ; and when we again meet at a more suitable time, I will at least listen to your advice concerning Julian, although I should not perhaps adopt it." " That more suitable time may never come," replied Bridgenorth. " Time wanes, eternit3' draws nigh. Hearken. It is said to be your purpose to send the PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. U'd young Julian to be bred up in yonder bloody island, under the hand of your kinswoman, that cruel mur- theress, by whom was done to death a man more worthy of vital existence than any that she can boast amongst her vaunted ancestry. These are current tidings — Arc they true ?" •' I do not blame you, Master Bridger.orth for think- ing harshly of my cousin of Derby," said Lady Peveri! ; i{ nor do I altogether vindicate the rash action of which she hath been guilty. Nevertheless, in her habitation, it is my husband's opinion and my own. that Julian may be trained in the studies and Accomplishment* be- coiiiing his rank, along with the young Earl of Derby." • ; Under the curse of God, and the blessiug of the Pope of Rome," said Bi idgenerth. " You, lady, so quick-sighted in matters of earthly prudence, are you blind to the gigantic pace at which Rome is moving to regain this country, once the richest gem in her usurp- ed tiara ? The old are seduced by gold — the youth by pleasure — the weak by flatten- — cowards by fear — and the courageous by ambition. A thousand baits for each taste, and each bait concealing the same dead- ly hook." " I am well aware, Master Bridgenorth." said Lady Peveril, " that my kinswoman is a Catholic ; but her son is educated in the Church ol England's principles, agreeably to the command of her deceased husband." •' Is it likely," answered Biidgeuorth, ' ; that she who fears not shedding the blood of the righteous, whether on the field or scaffold, will regard the sanction of her promise when her religion bids her break it ? Or, if she does, w hat shall your son be the belter if he remain in the mire of his father ? What are your Episcopal tenets but mere Popery ? save that ye have chosen a temporal tyrant for your Pope, and substitute a man- gled mass in English for that which your predecessors pronounced in Latin. — But why speak I of these things to one who hath ears indeed, and eyes, yet cannot see, listen to, or understand what is alone worthy to be heard, seen, and known? Pity that what hath been wrought so fair and exquisite in form and in cusposi- 140 PEVEUIL OF THE PEAK, tion, should be yet blind, deaf and ignorant, like the things which perish !" " We shall not agree on these subjects, Master Bridgenorth," said the lady, anxious still to escape from this strange conference, though scarce knowing, what to apprehend; once more, I must bid vou fare- well." " Stay yet an instant," he said, again laying his hand on her arm ; " I would stop you if I saw you rushing on the brink of an actual precipice-let me prevent you from a danger still greater. How shall I work upon your unbelieving mind ? Shall I tell you that the debt of blood-shed yet remains a debt to be paid by the bloody house of Derby ? And wilt thou send thy son to be among those from whom it shall be exacted ?" " You wish to alarm me in vain, Master Bridge- north," answered the lady; " what penalty can be ex- acted from the Countess for an action which I have already called a rash one, has been long since levied." " You deceive yourself," retorted he, sternly, " Think you a paltry sum of money, given to be wast- ed on the debaucheries of Charles, can atone for the death of such a man as Christian ? A man precious alike to heaven and to earth ? Not on such terms is the blood of the righteous to be poured forth ! Every hour's delay is numbered down as adding interest to the grievous debt, which will one day be required from that blood-thirsty woman." At this moment the distant tread of horses was heard on the road on which they held this singular dialogue. Bridgenorth listened a moment, and then said, " For- get that you have seen me — name not my name to your nearest or dearest — lock my counsel in your breast — profit by it, and it shall be well with you." So saying, he turned from her. and plunging through a gap in the fence, regained the cover ot his own wood, along which the path still led. The noise of horses advancing at full trot, now came nearer; and Lady Peveril was aware of several riders, whose forms rose in distinctly on the summit of *he ris- ing ground behind her. She became also visible to PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 141 thorn ; and one or two of the foremost made towards her at increased speed ? challenging In iv as they ad- vanced with the cry of '* Stand ' wl there?" The foremost v\ ho came up, however, exclaimed, ,{ mer- cy , if it be not my lady!' and Lad) P-veri', at the same moment, recognized one other own servants. Her husband rode up immediately afterwards with, " How now. Dame Margaret ? What makes \ ou abroad so far from home, and at an hour so late ?'' Lady Peveril mentioned her visit at the cottage but did not tliink it necessary to say aught of having seen Major Bridgeuorth ; afraid, it may be, that her husband migit be displeased with that incident. •• Charity is a fine thing, and a fair," answered Sir Geoffrey ; " but I must tell you, yon do ill, dame, to wander about the country like a quack-salver, at the call of every old woman who has a cholic-fii ; and at this time of night especially, and when the land is so unsettled besides." " I am sorry to hear that it is so,'* said the lady. " I had heard no such news " " News ?" repeated Sir Geoffrey ; " why here lias a new plot broken out among the Round-heads, worse than Venner's by a butt's length ; and who should be so deep in it as our old neighbour Bridgenorth ? There is search for him every where; and 1 promise you, if he is found, he is like to pay old scores." " Then 1 am sure, I trust he w ill not be found," said Lady Peveril. -• Do you so r" replied Sir GeorTrey> ,f Now, I. on my part, hope that he will; and it shall not be my fault it' he be not ; for which effect I will presently ride down to Mcultrassie, ami make strict search, according to my duty ; there shall neither rebel nor traitor earth so near Martindale Castle, that I will assure them. And you, my lady, be pleased for once to dispense with a pillion, and get up, as you have done before, behind Saunders, w ho shall convey you safe home." •The lady obeyed in silence ; indeed she did not dare to trust ber voice in an attempt to reply, so much was she disconcerted with the intelligence she had Just heard. 142 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. She rode behind the groom to the Castle, where she awaited in great anxiety the return of her husband. He came back at length ; but to her ^reat relief, without any prisoner- He then explained more fully than his haste had before permitted, that an express had come down to Chesterfield, with news from court of a purpos- ed insurrection amongst the old Commonwealth men, especially those who have served in the army ; and that Bridgenorth, said to be lurking in Derbyshire, was one of the principal conspirators. After some time, this report of a conspiracy seemed to die away like many others of that period. The war- rants were recalled, but nothing more was seen or heard of Major Bridgenorth ; although it is probable he might have shewn himself as openly as many did who lay under the same circumstances of suspicion. About this time, also, Lady Peveril, with many tears, took a temporary leave of her son Julian, who was sent, as had long been intended, for the purpose of sharing the education of the young Earl of Derby. Although the boding words of Bridgenorth sometimes occurred to Lady Peveril's mind, she did not suffer them to weigh with her in opposition to the advantages, which the patronage of the Countess of Derby secured to her son. The plan seemed to be in every respect successful ; and when, from time to time, Julian visited the house of his father, Lady Peveril had the satisfaction to see him, on every occasion, improved in person and in manner, as well as ardent in the pursuit of more solid acquirements. In process of time, he became a gal- lant and accomplished youth, and travelled for some time upon the continent with the young Earl. This was the more especially necessary for the enlarging of their acquaintance with the world; because the Coun- tess had never appeared in London, or at the court of" King Charles, since her flight to the Isle of Man, in 1660 ; but had resided in solitary and aristocratic state, alternately on her estates in England and in that island. This had given to the education of both the young men, otherwise as excellent as the best teachers could PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 143 render it, something of a narrow and restricted char- acter ; but though the disposition of the young Earl was lighter and more volatile than that of Julian, both the one and the other had profitted, in a considerable degree, by the opportunities afforded them. It was Lady Derby's strict injunction to her son, now return- ing from the continent, that he should not appear at the court of Charles. But having been for some time of age, he did not think it absolutely necessary to obey her in this particular; and had remained for some time in London, partaking the pleasures of the gay court there, with all the ardour of a young man bred up in comparative seclusion. In order to reconcile the Countess to this trans gression of her authority, (for he continued to enter- tain for her the profound respect in which he had been educated,) Lord IJerby agreed to make a long sojourn with her in her favourite island, which he abandoned almost entirely to her management. Julian Peveril had spent at Marlindale Castle a good deal of the time which his friend had bestowed in Lon- don ; and at the period to which, passing over many years, our story has arrived, as it were, per solium, they were both living as the Countess's guests, in the Castle of Kushin, in the venerable kingdom of Man. 144 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK- CHAPTER XI, Mona — long hid from those who roam the main. Collins. The Isle of Mai), in the midst of the seventeenth cen- tury, was something \evy different, as a place of resi- dence, from what it is now Men had not discovered its merit, as a place of occasional refuge from the storms of life, and the society to bo there met with was of a very uniform tenor. There were no smart fellows, whom fortune had tumbled from the seat of their ba- rouches — no | lucked pi-eons, or winged rooks — no disappointed speculators — no ruined miners — in short, no one worth talking to. The society of the islam] was limited to the natives themselves, and a iew merchants, who lived by contraband trade. The amusements w ere rare and monotonous, and the mercurial young Earl was soon heartily tired ol his dominions Julian was seated in the d t — Bit I see you have a mind lo go on anp our 0wa oid fashion. Oh laced coat, an PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 14?r kin ; — lively colours scare fish in the sober waters of the Isle of Man ; — faith, in London you will catch few, unless the bait glistens a little. But you are going ? — well, good luck to you. I will take to the barge ; — the sea and wind are less inconstant than the tide you have embarked on." ' k You have learned to say all these smart things in London, ray lord," answered Julian ; '*' but we shall have you a penitent for them, if Lady Cynthia be of my mind Adieu, and pleasure tiii we meet. 5 ' The \oung men parted accordingly; and while the Earl betook him to his pleasure voyage, Julian, as his friend had prophesied, assumed the dress of one who means to amuse himself with angling. The hat and feather were exchanged for a cap of grey cloth ; the deeply laced cloak and doublet for a simple jacket of the same colour, with hose conforming ; and finally, with rod in hand, and panier at his back, mounted upon a handsome Manx poney, young Peveril rode briskly over the country which divided him from one of those beautiful streams, that descend to the sea from the Kirk-Merlagh mountains. Having reached the spot where he meant to com- mence his day's sport, Julian let his little steed graze,, which, accustomed to the situation, followed him like a dog ; and now and then, when tired of picking her- bage in the valley through which the stream winded, came near his master's side, and, as if he had been a curious amateur of the sport, gazed on the trouts as Julian brought them struggling to the shore. But Fai- ry's master showed, on that day, little of the patience ef a real angler, and took no heed to old Isaac Wal- ton's recommendation, to fi»h the streams inch by inch. He choose, indeed, with an angler's eye, the most pro- mising casts, where the stream broke sparkling over a stone, affording the wonted shelter to a trout ; or where, gliding away from a rippling current to a still eddy, it streamed under the projecting bank, or dashed from the pool of some low cascade. By this judicious selec- tion of spots whereon to employ his art, the sportsman's basket was soou sufficiently heavy, to show that his Ov- 148 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. cupation was not a mere pretext; and so soon as this was the case, he walked briskly up the glen, only mak- ing a cast from time to time, in case of his being ob- served from any of the neighbouring heights. It was a little green and rocky valley through which the brook strayed, very lonely, although the slight track of an unformed road showed that it was occasionally- traversed, and that it w as not altogether void of inhabi- tants. As Peveril advanced still farther, the right bank reached to some distance from the stream, leaving a piece of meadow ground, the lower part of which being dose to the brook, was entirely covered with rich herb- age ; being, possibly, occasionally irrigated by its overflow. The higher part of the level ground afforded a stance for an old house, of a singular structure, with a terraced garden, and a cultivated field or two beside it. In former times, a Danish or Norwegian fastness had stood here, called the Black-Fort, from the colour of a large heathy hill, which, rising behind the build- ing, appeared to be the boundary of the valley, and to afford the source of the brook. But the original struc- ture had been long demoli>hed, as, indeed, it probably- only consisted of dry stones, and its materials had been applied to the construction of the present man- sion -the work of some churchman, during the sixteenth century, as was evident from the huge stone-work of its windows, which scarce left room for light to pass through, as well as from two or three heavy buttresses, which projected from the front of the house, and ex- hibited on their surface little niches for images. These had been carefully destroyed, and pots of flowers were placed in the niches in their stead, 1 besides their being ornamented by creeping plants of various kinds, fan- cifully twined around them. The garden was also in good order; and though the spot was extremely soli- tary, there was about it altogether an air of comfort, accommodation, and even elegance, by no means gen- erally characteristic of the habitations of the island at that time. With much circumspection, Julian Peveril approach- ed the low Gothic porch, which defended the entrance PETERIL OF THE PEAK. 149 of the mansion from the tempests incident to its situa- tion, and was, like the buttresses, overrun with ivy and other creeping plants. An iron ring, contrived so as when drawn up and down to rattle against the bar of notched iron through which it was suspended, served the purpose of a knocker; and to this he applied him- self, though with the greatest precaution. He received no answer for some time, and indeed it seemed as if the house was totally uninhabited ; when, at length his impatience getting the upper hand, he tried to open the door, and as it was only upon the latch, very easily succeeded. He passed through a lit- tle low-arched hall, the upper end of which was occu- pied by a staircase, and turning to the left, opened the door of a summer parlour, wainscotted with black oak, and vevy simply furnished with chairs and tables of the same materials ; the former cushioned with leather. The apartment was gloomy — one of those stone shaft- ed windows which we have mentioned, with its small latticed panes, and thick garland of foliage, admitting but an imperfect light. Over the chimney-piece (which was of the same mas- sive materials with the pannelling of the apartment,) was the only ornament of the room ; a painting, name- ly, representing an officer in the military dress of the Civil Wars ; the short band which hung down on the cuirass — his orange-coloured scarf, but above all, the shortness of his close-cut hair, showing evidently to which of the great parties he had belonged. His right hand rested on the hilt of his sword ; and in the left he had a small Bible, bearing the inscription, " In hoc signo." The countenance was of an olive complexion, with deep black eyes, an oval form of face — one of those physiognomies, to which, though not otherwise unpleasiri£, we naturally attach the idea of melancho- ly and of misfortune. Apparently it was well known to Julian Peveril ; for, alter having looked at it for a Ions; time, he could not forbear muttering aloud, " What would I give that tiiat man had never been born, or that he still lived ! " "How now — how is this?" said a female, who enter* 13* 159 FEVEIUL OF THE TEAK. cd the room as he uttered this reflection. " You here •Master Peveril, in spite of all tin 1 warnings you have had ? You here, in the possession of folk's house when they are abroad, and talking to yourself, as I shall warrant." " Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril, 4: 1 am here once more, as you see, against every prohibition, and in defiance of all danger, — Where is Alice?" " Where you will never see her, Master Julian — you may satisfy yourself of that" answered Mistress De- borah, for it was that respectable gouvernaute ; and sisiking down at the same time upon one of the large leathern chairs, the began to tan herself with her hand- kerchief, and complain of the heat in a most ladylike fashion In fact, Mistress Debbitch, while her exterior inti- mated a considerable change of condition for the better, and her countenance shewed the less favourable effects of the twenty years which had passed over her head, was, in mind and manners, very much what she had been when she battled the opinions of Madam Elles- more at Martiiidale Castle. In a word, she was self- willed, obstinate, and coquetish as ever, otherwise no ill-disposed person. Her present appearance was that of a woman of the better rank. From the sobriety of the fashion of her dress, and the uniformity of its colors, it was plain she belonged to some sect which condemn- ed superfluous gaiety in attire ;.but no rules, not those of a nunnery or of a quakers society, can prevent a little coquetry in that particular, where a woman is de- sirous of being supposed to retain some claim to per- sonal attention. All Mistress Deborah's garments were so arranged as might best set off a good-looking woman, whose countenance indicated ease and good cheer — who called herself five-and-thirty, and was well enti- tled, if she had a mind, to call herself twelve or fifteen years older. Julian was under the necessity of enduring all her tiresome and fantastic airs, and awaiting with patience till she had " prinked herself and pinned herself"—- >U.ing her hoods back, and draw n them forward — snuff- PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. 151 ed at a little bottle of essences- -closed her eyes like a dying fowl — turned them up like a duck in a thunder storm ; when at length, having exhausted her round of mmuuu'erics, she condescended to open the conversation. • l The walks will be the death of me,"' she said, " and all on your account. .Master Julian Peverii; for if Dame Christian should learn that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you Mrs. Alice would be soon obliged to find other quarters, and so should I. 5 ' "Come now, Mrs Deborah, be good-humoured,' said Julian ; u consider, was not all this intimacy of ours of your own making? Did you not make yourself known to me the very firs* time 1 strolled up this glen with my fishing-rod, and tel! n.e that you were my former keeper, an.i that Alice had been my little play-fellow? And what could there be more natural, than that I should come back and see two such agieeable persons as often as I could f ' " Yes," said Dame Deborah ; " but I did not t^d you fall in love with us though, or propose such a matter as marriage either to Alice or myself" " To do you justice, you never did, Deborah," an- swered the youth ; vl but what of that ? Such things will come out before one is aware. I am sure you must have heard such proposals fifty times when. you least expected them." " Fie, fie, fie, Master Julian Peverii," said the gou- vernante; " I would have you to know that I have al- ways so behaved myself, that the best of the land would have thought twice of it ; and have very well consider- ed both what he was going to say, and How he was go- ing to sav it, before he came out with such proposals to me." "True, true, Mistress Deborah," continued Julian ; " but all the world have not your discretion. Then Alice Bridgenorth is a child — a mere child ; and one always asks a baby to be one's little wife, you know. Come, I know you will forgive me. Thou wert ever the best natured, kindest woman in the world ; and you know you have said twenty times we were made for each other." 152 PEVERIL OF THE PEA^. " () no, Master Julian Peveril ; no, no, no ?" ejacu- lated Deborah. " I may indeed have said your estates were born to be united ; and to be sure it is natural to me; that come of the old stock of the honest yeomanry of Peveril of the Peak's estate, to wish that it was all within the ring fence again ; which sure enough it might be. were you to marry Alice Bridgenorth. But then there is the knight your father, and my lady your mo- ther; and there is her father, that is half crazy with his religion ; and her aunt, that wears eternal black grogravn for that unlucky Colonel Christian : and there is the Countess of Derby that would serve us ail with the same sauce if we were thinking of any thing that would displease her. And besides all that, you have broke your word with Mistress Alice, and every thing is over between you ; and I am of opinion it is quite right it should be all over. And perhaps it may be, Master Julian, that I should have thought so a long time ago, before a child like Alice put it into my head ; but 1 am so good-natured-" No flatterer like a lover, who wishes to carry Lis point. " You are the best-natured, kindest creature in the world, Deborah — But you have never seen the ring I bought for you at Paris. Nay, I will put it on your finger myself; — what! your foster son, whom you loved so well, and took such care of?" He easily succeeded in putting a pretty ring of gold, with a humourous affectation of gallantry, on the fat linger of Mistress Deborah Debbitch. tier's was a soul of a kind often to be met with, both among the lower and higher vulgar, who, without being on a broad scale, accessible to bribes or corruption, are neverthe- less much attached to perquisites, and considerably biassed in their line of duty, though perhaps insensibly, by the love of petty observances, petty presents, and trivial compliments. Mistress Debbitch turned the ring round, and round, and round, and at length said, in a whisper, "Well Master Julian Peveril, it signifies nothing denying an}' tiling to such a young gentleman as you, for young gentlemen are always so obstinate ! PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 15£ and so I may as well tell you, that Mistress Alice walk- ed back from Kirk-Truagh along with me, just now, and entered the house at the same time with myself." '• Why did you not tell me so before?" said Julian, starting up; '* where— where is she?" " You had better ask why 1 tell you so noiv. Master Julian," said Dame Deborah ; " for I promise you, it is against her express commands ; and I would not have told you, had you not looked so pitiful ;-- but as for seeing you, that she will not— and she is in her own bed-room, with a good oak door shut and bolted upon her— that is one comfort.— And so, as for any breach of trust on my part— -I promise you the little saucy minx gives it no less name— it is quite impossible." " Do not say so, Deborah— only go— only try — tell her to hear me- -tell her I have a hundred excuses for disobeying her commands— tell her I have no doubt to get over all obstacles at Martindale Castle." " Nay, I tell you it is all in vain," replied the dame. tt When I saw your cap and rod lying in the hall, I did but say, ' there he is again,' and she ran up the stairs like a young deer ; and I heard key turned, and bolt shot, ere I could say a single word to stop her — I mar- vel you heard her not" " It was because I am, as I ever was, an owl — a dreaming fool, who let all those golden minutes pass, which my luckless life holds out to me so rarely — Well — tell her I go — go for ever — go where she will hear no more of me — where no one shall hear more of me." " O, the Father !" said the dame, " hear how he talks ! — What will become of Sir Geoffrey, and your mother, and of me, and of the Countess, if you were to go so far as you talk of? And what would become of poor Alice too ? for 1 will be sworn she likes you bet- ter than she says, and I know she used to sit and look the way that yon used to come up the stream, and now and then ask me if the morning was good for fishing. And all the while you were on the Continent, as they call it, she scarcely smiled once, unless it was when she* got these two beautiful long letters about foreign parts." 154 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 1 Friendships Dame Deborah — only friendship — cold and calm remembrance of one who, by your kind per- mission, stoie in on your solitude now and then, with news from the Living world without. — Once, indeed, I thought — but it is all over — farewel." So saying, he covered his face with one hand, and extended the other, in the act of bidding adieu to Dame Debbitch. whose kind heart became unable to withstand the sight of his affliction. " Now, do not be in such haste," she said ; " 1 will go up again, and tell her how it stands with you, and bring her down, if it is in woman's power to do it." And so saying, she left the apartment and ran up stairs. Julian Peveril, meanwhile, paced the apartment in great agitation, waiting the success of Deborah's inter- cession ; and she remained long enough absent to give us time to explain, in a short retrospect, the circum- stances which had led to his present situation. eilAPTER XII. Alt me ! for an°ht that ever T eould read> Could ever bear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth ! Midsummer Night'* Dream. The celebrated passage which we have prefixed to this chapter, has, like most observations of the same author, its foundation in real experience. The period PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 155 •at which love is felt most strongly, is seldom that at which there is much prospect of its being brought to a happy issue. The state of artificial society opposes inan3' con. plicated obstructions to early marriagies; and the chance is very great, that such obstacles prove insurmountable. In fine, there are few men who do not look back in secret to souse period of their youth, at which a sincere and early affect ion was repulsed, or betrayed, or became abortive from Opposing circum- stances. It is these jittie passages of secret history, which leave a tinge of romance in every bosom, scarce permitting us, even in the most busy or the most ad- vanced period of life, to listen with total indifference to a tale of true love. Julian Pcveril had so fixed his affections, as to ensure the fullest share of'that opposition which early attach- ments are so" apt to encounter Yet nothing so natural as that he should have clone so. In early youth,. Dame Debbitch had accidently met with the son of her first patroness, and who had himself been her earliest charge, fishing in the little brook already noticed, w hich water- ed the valley in which she resided with Alice Bridge- north. The dame s curiosity easily discovered who he whs; and besides the interest which persons in her con- dition usually take in the young people w ho have been under their charge, she was delighted with the oppor- tunity to talk about former times — about Martindale Castfe, and friends there — about Sir Geoffrey and his good I ad v — and now and then, about Lance Outran), the park- keeper. 'i ne mere pleasure of gratifying her Inquiries, would scarce have had power enough to induce Julian to re- peat his visits to the lonely glen; but Deborah had a companion — a i<>\< ly girl-^bied in solitude, and in the quiet and unpretending tastes which solitude encour- ages — spirited* also and inquisitive, and listening with 4 laughing cheek, and an eager eye, to every tale the young angkr brought from the town and castle. 156 PL\ERIL OF TTiE PE,'K. The visits of Julian to the Black-Fort were only oc- casional — so far Dame Deborah showed common sense — which was, perhaps, inspired by the apprehen- sion of losing her place, in case of discovery. She had, indeed, great confidence in the strong and rooted be- lief — amounting almost to superstition — which Major Bridgcnorth entertained, that his daughters continu- ed health could only be ensured by her continuing un- der the charge of one who had acquired Lady Peveril's supposed skill in treating those subject to such aliments. This belief Dame Deboiah had improved to the ut- most of her simple cunning, — always speaking in some- thing of an oracular tone, upon the subject of her charge's health, and hinting at certain myterious rules necessary to maintain it in the present favourable state. She had availed herself of this artifice, to procure for herself and Alice a separate establishment at the Black- Fort ; for it was originally Major Bridgenorth's reso- lution, that his daughter and her gouvernante should remain under the same roof with the sister-in-law of his deceased wife, the widow of the unfortunate Colo- nel Christian. But this lady was broken down with premature age, brought on by sorrow ; and, in a short visit which Major Bridgenorth made to the island, he was easily prevailed on to consider her house at Kirk- Truagh, as a very cheerless residence for his daugh- ter. Dame Deborah, who longed for domestic inde- pendence, was careful to increase this impression by alarming the patron's fears on account of Alice's health. "The mansion of Kirk-Truagh stood, she said, much exposed to the Scottish winds, which could not but be cold, as they came from a country where there was ice and snow at midsummer.'' In short, she prevailed, and was put in full possession of Black-Fort, a house which, as well as Kirk-Truagh, belonged formerly to Christian, and now to his widow. Still, however, it was enjoined on the gouvernante and her charge, to visjl Kirk-Truagh From time to time, and to consider themselves as under the management and guardianship of Mistress Christian a state TEVEKIL OB THE PEAK. J<37 of subjection, the sense of which Deborah endea- voured to lessen, by assuming as much freedom of conduct as she possibly dared, under the influence, doubtless, of the same feeling of independence which induced her, at Martindale Hali, to spurn the advice of Mistress Ellesmere. It was this generous disposition to defy control which induced her to procure for Alice, secretly, some means of education, which the stern genius of puritanism would have proscribed. She ventured to have her charge taught music — nay, even dancing; and the picture of the stern Colonel Christian trem- bled on the wainscot where it was suspended, while the sylph-like form of Alice, and the substantial per- son of Dame Deborah, executed French chaussees and horees, to the sound of a small kit, which screamed under the bow of Monsieur de Pigal, half smuggler, half dancing-master. This abomination reached the ears of the Colonel's widow, and by her was commu- nicated to Bridgenorth, whose sudden appearance in the island showed the importance he attached to the communication. Had she been faithless to her own cause, that had been the latest hour of Mistress Deborah's administration. But she retreated into ber strong-hold. " Dancing," she said, " was exercise, regulated and timed by music ; and it stood to reason,jthat it must be the best of all exercise for a delicate person, espe- cially as it could be taken within doors, and in all states of the weather." Bridgenorth listened, with a clouded and thought- ful brow, when, in exemplification of her doctrine, Mistress Deborah, who was no contemptible per- former on the viol, began to jangle Sellenger's Round, ■ind commanded Alice to dance an old English mea- sure to the tune. As the half-bashful, half-smiling girl, about fourteen, for such was her age, moved gracefully to the music, the father's eye unavoidably followed the light spring of her step, and marked with joy the rising colour in her cheek. When the dance was over, he folded her in his arms, smoothed vol. i. 14 158 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. her somewhat disordered locks with a farther's affec- tionate hand, smiled, kissed her brow, and took his leave, without one single word further interdicting the exercise of dancing. He did not himself com- municate the result of his visit at the Black Fort to Mistress Christian, but she was not long of learning it, by the triumph of Dame Deborah on her next visit. " It is well," said the stern old lady ; " my brother Bridgenorth hath permitted you to make a Herodias of Alice, and teach her dancing. You have only now to find her a partner for life — I shall neither meddle nor make more in their afiairs." In fact, the triumph of Dame Deborah, or rather of Dame Nature, on this occasion, had more important effects than the former had ventured to anticipate; for Mistress Christian, though she received with all formality the formal visits of the gouvernante and her charge, seemed thenceforth so much petted with the issue of her remonstrance, upon the enormity of her niece dancing to a little fiddle, that she appeared to give up interference! in her affairs, and left Dame Debbitch and Alice to manage both education and house-keeping — in which she had hitherto greatly in- terfered — much after their own pleasure. It was in this independent state that they lived, when Julian first visited their habitation; and he was the rather encouraged to do so by Dame Deborah, that she believed him to be one of the last persons in the world with whom Mistress Christian would have desired her neice to be acquainted — the happy spirit of contradiction superseding, with Dame Deborah, on this, as on other occasions, all consideration of the fitness of things. She did not act altogether without precaution neither. She was aware she had to guard not only against any reviving interest on the part of Mistress Christian, hut against the sudden arrival of Major Bridgenorth, who never failed once in the year to make his appearance at the Black Fort when least expected, and to remain there for a few days. Dame Debbitch therefore, exacted of Julian, that his visits PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. 159 should be few and far between ; that he should con- descend to pass for a relation of her own, in the eves of two ignorant Manks girls and a lad, who formed her establishment ; and that he should always appear m his angler's dress made of the simple Lou$htatm)V burr-coloured wool of the island, which is not subject- ed to dyeing. By these precautions, she thought his intimacy at the Black-Fort would be entirely unno- ticed, or considered as immaterial, while, in the meanwhile, it furnished much amusement to her charge and herself. This was accordingly the case during the earlier part of their intercourse, while Julian was a lad, and Alice a girl two or three years younger. But as the lad shot up to youth, and the girl to womanhood, even Dame Deborah Debbitch's judgment saw danger in their continued intimacy. She took an opportunity to communicate to Julian who Miss Bridgenorth ac- tually was, and the peculiar circumstances which placed discord between their fathers. He heard the story of their quarrel with interest and surprise, for he had only resided occasionally at Martindale Castle, and the subject of Bridgenorth's quarrel with his fa- ther had never been mentioned in his presence. His imagination caught lire at the sparks aiTorded by this singular story ; and, far from complying with the pru- dent remonstrance of Dame Deborah, and gradually estranging himself, from the Black-Fort and its fair inmate, he frankly declared, he considered his inti- macy, there so casually commenced, as intimating the will of Heaven, that Alice and he were designed for each other, in spite of every obstacle which passion or prejudice could raise up betwixt them. They had been companions in infancy ; and a -little exertion of memory enabled him to recal his childish grief for the unexpected and sudden disappearance of his little companion, whom he was destined again to meet with in the early bloom of opening beauty, in a country which was foreign to them both. Dame Deborah was confounded at the consequen- ces' of her communication, which had thus blown into 160 PEVE1UL OF THE PEAK. a^ flame the passion which she hoped it would have- either prevented or extinguished. She had not the sort of head which resists the musculine and energetic remonstrances of passionate attachment, whether ad- dressed to her on her own account, or on behalf ol another. She lamented, and wondered, and ended her feeble opposition, b weeping, and sympathizing, and consenting to allow the continuance of Julian's visits, providing he was only to address himself to Alice in the capacity of a friend ; for the world, she would consent to nothing more. She was not, how- ever, so simple, but that she also had her forebodings of the designs of Providence on this youthful couple : for certainly they could not be more formed to be united than the good estates of Martindale and Moul» trassie. Then came a long sequence of reflections. Mar- tindale Castle v/anted but some repairs to be almost equal to Chalsworth. The Hall might be allowed to go to ruin ; or, what would be better, when Sir Geof- frey's time came, (for the good knight had seen ser- vice, and must be breaking now,) the Hall would be a good dowry-house, to which my lady and Ellesmere might retreat; while (empress of the still room, and queen of the pantry,) Mistress Deborah Debbitch should reign housekeeper at the Castle, and extend, perhaps, the crown-matrimonial to Lance Outram, providing he was not become too old, too fat, or too- fond of ale. Such were the soothing visions under the influence of which the dame connived at an attachment, which lulled also to pleasing dreams, though of a character so different, her charge and her visitant. The visits of the young angel became more and more frequent ; and the embarrassed Deborah, though foreseeing all the dangers of discovery, and the addi- tional risk of an explanation betwixt Alice and Julian, which must necesarily render their relative situation so much more delicate, felt completely overborne by the enthusiasm of the young lover, and was compelled. to let matters take their course. PEVEBIL OF THE PEAK. 161 The departure of Julian for the continent inter- rupted the course of his intimacy at the Black Fort, and while it relieved the elder of its inmates from much internal apprehension, spread an air of languor and dejection over the countenance of the younger, which, at Bridgenorth's next visit to the Isle of Man, renewed all his terrors for his daughter's constitu- tional malady. Deborah promised faithfully she should look better the next morning, and she kept her word. She had retained in her possession for some time a letter which Julian had, by some private conveyance, sent to her charge, for his youthful friend. Deborah had dreaded the consequences of delivering it as a billet- doux, but, as in the case of the dance, she thought there could be no harm in administering it as a re- medy. It had complete effect ; and next day the cheeks of the maiden had a tinge of the rose, which so much delighted her father, that as he mounted his horse he flung his purse into Deborah's hand, with the desire that she should spare nothing that could make herself and his daughter happy, and the assurance that she had his full confidence. This expression of liberality and confidence from a man of Major Bridgenorth's reserved and cautious disposition, gave full plumage to Mistress Deborah's hopes ; and emboldened her not only to deliver ano- ther letter of Julian's to the young lady, but to encou- rage more boldly and freely than formerly the inter- course of the lovers when Peveril returned from abroad. At length, in spite of all Julian's precaution, the young Earl became suspicious of his frequent solitary fishing parties ; and he himself, now better acquainted with the world than formerly, became aware that his repeated visits and solitary, walks with a per- son so young and beautiful as Alice, might nbt only betray prematurely the secret of his attachment, but be of essential prejudice to her who was its object - Under the influence of this conviction, he abstained 14* h \G'2 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, for an unusual period, from Black-Fort. But when he next indulged himself with spending an hour in the place where he would gladly have abode for ever, the altered manner of Alice — the tone in which she seem* ed to upbraid his neglect, penetrated his heart, and deprived him of the power of self-command which he had hitherto exercised in their interviews. It requi- red but a few energetic words to explain to Alice at once his feelings, and to make her sensible of the real nature of her own. She wept plentifully, but her tears were not all of bitterness. She sat passively still, and without reply, while he explained to her with many an interjection, the circumstances which had placed disorder between their families ; for hitherto, all that she had known was that Master Peveril, belonging to the household of the great Countess or Lady of Man, must observe some precautions in visiting a relative of the unhappy Colonel Christian. But when Julian concluded his tale with the warmest protestations of eternal love, " My poor father!" she burst forth, "and was this to be the end of all thy precautions ? — This, that the son of him that disgraced and banished thee, should hold such language to your daughter ?" "You err, Alice, you err," said Julian, eagerly, " That I hold this language — that the son of Peve- ril addresses thus the daughter of your father — that he thus kneels to you for forgiveness of inju- ries which passed when we were both infants, allows the will of Heaven, that in our affection should be quenched the discord of our parents. What else could lead those who parted infants on the hills of Derbyshire, to meet thus in the valleys of Man ?" Alice, however new to such a scene, and above all her own emotions might be, was highly endowed with that exquisite delicacy which is imprinted in the female, heart, to give warning of the slighest ap- proach to impropriety in a situation like hers. "Rise, rise, Master Peveril," she said; " do not do yourself and me this injustice — we have donr; both wrong— very wrong ; but my fault was done i peveril of the peak. 163 in ignorance. O God ! my poor father, who needs comfort so much — is it for me to add to his mis- fortunes ? Rise !" she added more firmly ; if you retain this unbecoming posture any longer, I will leave the room, and you shall never see me more." The commanding tone of Alice overawed the impetuosity of her lover, who took in silence a seat removed to some distance from hers, and was again about to speak. "Julian," said she, in a. milder tone, " you have spoken enough, and more than enough. Would you had left me in the pleasing dream in which I could have listened to you for ever; but the hour of awakening has arrived." Pe- veril waited the prosecution of her speech as a criminal while he waits his doom ; for he was suf- ficiently sensible that an answer, delivered not cer- tainly without emotion, but with firmness and re- solution, was not to be interrupted. " We have done wrong," she repeated, " very wrong; and if we now separate for ever, the pain we may feel will be but a just penalty for our error. We should never have met. Meeting, we should part as soon as possible. Our farther intercourse can but double our pain at parting. Farewell, Julian; and forget we have ever seen each other !" "Forget!" said Julian; "never, never. To you it is easy to speak the word — to think the thought. To rnc, an approach to either can only be by utter destruction. Why should you doubt that the feud of our fathers, like so ninny of which we have heard, might be appeased by our friendship ? You are my only friend. I am the only friend whom heaven has assigned to you. Why should we sepa- rate for the faults of others, which befel when we were but children?" " You speak 'in vain, Julian," said Alice ; " I pity you — perhaps I pity myself — indeed I should pity myself, perhaps, most of the two; for you will g forth to new scenes and new faces, and will soon forget me; but I, remaining in this solitude, how >nall / forget — that, however, is not now the ques*- 164 PEVERIL OF THR PEAK. lion — I can bear my lot, and it commands us to part." " Hear me yet a moment," said Peveril ; " this ^evil is not, cannot be remediless. I will go to my father — I will use the intercession of my mother, to whom he can refuse nothing — T will gain their consent — they have no other child — -and they must consent or lose him for ever. Say, Alice, if I come to you f with my parents' consent to my suit, will you again say, with that tone so touching and so sad, yet so incredibly determined — Julian, we must part r 1 ' Alice was silent. " Cruel girl, will you not even deign to answer me ?" said her lover. " We answer not those who speak in their dreams," said Alice. " You ask what I would do were impos- sibilities performed. What right have you to make such suppositions, and ask such a question ?" "Hope, Alice, Hope," answered Julian, 4f the last support of the wretched, which even you surely would not be cruel enough to deprive me of. In every diffi- culty, in every doubt, in every danger, Hope will fight even if he cannot conquer. Tell me once more, if I come to you in the name of my father — in that of that mother, to whom you partly owe your life, what would you answer to me ?" " I would refer you to my own father," said Alice, blushing, and casting her eyes down; but instantly raising them again, she repeated, in a firmer and sad- der tone, " Yes, Julian, I would refer you to my father ; and you would find that your pilot, Hope, had deceiv- ed you ; and that you had escaped the quicksands to fail upon the rocks." "I would that could be tried !" said Julian. " Me- thinks I could persuade your father that in ordinary eyes our alliance is not undesirable. We have for- tune, rank, long descent — all that fathers look for when they bestow a daughter's hand." "All this would avail nothing," said Alice. " The spirit of my father is bent upon the things of another world ; and if he listened to hear you out, it would be- but to tell you that he spurned your offers." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 16\) " You know not, Alice," said Julian. " Fire can soften iron — thy father's heart cannot be so hard, or his prejudices so strong, but I shall find some means to melt him. Forbid me not — O, forbid me not at least the experiment!" " I can but advise," said Alice ; " I can forbid you nothing ; for to forbid, implies power to command obedience. Bat if you will be wise, and listen to me — Here, and on this spot, we part forever!" "Not so, by heaven!" said Julian, whose bold and sanguine temper scarce saw difficulty in attaining aught which he desired. " We now part, indeed, but it is that I may return armed with my parent's consent. They desire that I should marry, in their last letters they pressed it more openly — they shall have their de- sire; and such a bride as I will present to them, has not graced their house since the Conqueror gave it origin. Farewell, Alice! Farewell, for a brief space!" She replied, " Farewell, Julian! Farewell, forever!" Julian, within a week of this interview, was at Mar- tindale Castle, with the view of communicating his purpose. But the task which seems easy at a distance, proves as diificult, upon a nearer approach, as the fording of a river, which, in the distance appeared only a brook. There lacked not opportunities of en- tering upon the subject ; for in the first ride which he took with his father, the Knight resumed the subject of his son's marriage, and liberally left the lady to his choice; but under the strict proviso, that she was of a loyal and an honourable family, — if she had for- tune, it was good and well, or rather it was better than well; but if she was poor, why, "there is still some picking," said Sir Geoffrey, " on the bones of the old estate ; and Dame Margaret and I will be content with the less, that you young folks may have your share of it. I am turned* frugal already, Julian. You see what a north country shambling bit of a Galloway nag I ride upon — a different beast, I wot, from my own old Black Hastings, who had but one fault, and that was his wish to turn down Moultrassie avenue." :t Was that so great a fault?" said Julian, affecting 166 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. indifference, while his heart was trembling,as it seem- ed to him, almost in his very throat. " It used to remind me of that base, dishonourable, Presbyterian fellow Bridgenorth," said Sir Geoffrey : te and I would as lief think of a toad ; — they say he lias turned Independent, toaccomplish the full degree of rascality. — I tell you, Gill, I turned off' the cow- boy, for gathering nuts in his woods — I would hang a dog that would so much as kill a hare there. — But what is the matter with you ? You look pale." Julian made some indifferent answer, but too well understood from the language and tone which his father used, that his prejudices against Alice's father were both deep and envenomed, as those of country gentlemen often become, who, having little to do or think of, are but too apt to spend their time in nurs- ing, and cherishing petty causes of wrath against their next neighbours. In the course of the same day, he mentioned the Bridgenorth's to his mother, as if in a casual manner. But the Lady Pevenl instantly conjured him never to mention the name, especially in his father's presence. " Was that Major Bridgenorth, of whom I have heard the name mentioned," said Julian, " so very bad a neighbour ?" " I do not say so," said Lady Peveril ; " nay, we were more than once obliged to him, in the former unhappy times; but your father and he took some passages so ill at each other's hands, that the least al- lusion to him disturbs Sir Geoffrey's temper in a man- ner quite unusual, and which, now that his health is somewhat impaired, is sometimes alarming to me. For Heaven's sake, then, my dear Julian, avoid, upon all occasions, the slightest allusion to Moultrassie, or any of its inhabitants." This warning was so seriously given, that Julian himself saw that mentioning his secret purpose would be the sure way to render it abortive, and therefore he returned disconsolate to the Isle. Peveril had the boldness, however, to make the best he could of what had happened, by requesting an TEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 167 interview with Alice, in order to inform her what had passed betwixt his parents and him on her account. It was with great difficulty that this boon was obtain- ed ; and Alice Bridgenorth showed no slight degree of displeasure, when she discovered, after much cir- cumlocution, and many efforts to give an air of im- portance to what he had to communicate, that all amounted but to this, that Lady Peveril continued to retain a favourable opinion of her father, Major Bridge- north, which Julian would fain have represented as an omen of their more perfect reconciliation. " I did not think you would thus have trifled with me, Master Peveril," said Alice, assuming an air of dignity ; " but I will take care to avoid such intrusion in future — I request you will not again visit Black Fort ; and 1 entreat of you, good Mistress Debbitch, that you will no longer either encourage or permit this gentleman's visits, as the result of such persecution will be to compel me to appeal to my aunt and father for another place of residence, and perhaps also for another and more prudent companion." This last hint struck Mistress Deborah with so much terror, that she joined her ward in requiring and demanding Julian's instant absence, and he was obliged to comply with their request. But the courage of a youthful lover is not easily subdued ; and Julian after having gone through the usual round of trying to forget his ungrateful mistress, and again entertain- ing his passion with augmented violence, ended by the visit to the Black Fort the beginning of which we narrated in the last chapter. We then left him anxious for, yet almost fearful of an interview w r ith Alice, which he had prevailed upon Deborah to solicit; and such was the tumult of his mind, that, while he traversed the parlour, it seemed to him that the dark melancholy eyes of Christian's portrait followed him wherever he went, with the fixed, chill, and ominous glance, which announced to the enemy of his race mishap and misfortune. The door of the apartment opened at length, and these visions dissipated. 168 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. CHAPTER XIII. parents have flinty hearts ! No tears can move them. Otway. When Alice Bridgenorth entered, at length, the parlour where her anxious lover had so long expected her, it was with a slow step, and a composed manner. Her dress was arranged with an accurate attention to form, which at once enhanced the appearance of its puritanic simplicity, and struck Julian as a had omen ; for although the time bestowed upon the toilette may, in many cases, intimate the wish to appear advanta- geously at such an interview, yet a ceremonious ar- rangement of attire is very much allied with formali- ty, and a pre-conceived determination to treat a lover with cold politeness. The sad-coloured ground — the pinched and plaited cap, which carefully obscured the profusion of long dark-brown hair — the small ruff, and the long sleeves, would have ppeared to great disadvantage on a shape less graceful than Alice Bridgenorth's ; but an exqui- site form, though not, as yet, sufficiently rounded in the outlines to produce the perfection of female beau- ty, was able to sustain and give grace even to this un- becoming dress. Her countenance, fair and delicate, with eyes of hazel, and a brow of alabaster, had, not- withstanding, less regular beauty than her form, and might have been justly subjected to criticism. There was, however, a life and spirit in her gaiety, and a depth of sentiment in her gravity, which made Alice, in conversation with the very few persons with whom she associated, so facinating in her manners and ex- pression, whether of language or countenance — so touching, also, in her simplicity and purity of thought, that brighter beauties might have been overlooked in her company. It was no wonder, therefore, that an ardent character like Julian, influenced by these charms, as well as by the secrecy and mystery attend- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 1^9 ing his intercourse with Alice, should prefer the re- cluse of the Black-Fort to all others with whom he ■ had become acquainted in general society. His heart beat high as she came into the apartment, and it was almost without an attempt to speak that his profound obeisance acknowledged her entrance. " This is a mockery, Master Peveril," said Alice, with an effort to speak firmly, which yet was discon- certed by a slight tremulous inflection of voice — "a mockery, and a cruel one. You come to this lone place, inhabited only by two women, too simple to command your absence — too weak to enforce it — you come, in spite of my earnest request — to the neglect of your own time — to the prejudice, 1 may fear, of my character — you abuse the influence you possess over the simple person to whom 1 am intrusted — All this you do, and think to make it up by low reve- rences, and constrained courtesy ! Is this honourable, or is it fair ? — Is it," and added, after a moment's hesitation — " is it kind?" The tremulous accent fell especially on the last word she uttered, and it was spoken in a low tone of gentle reproach, which went to Julian's heart. " If," said he, " there was a mode by which, at the peril of my life, Alice, I could show my regard — my respect — my devoted tenderness — the danger would be dearer to me than ever was pleasure." " You have said such things often," said Alice, " and they are such as I ought not to hear, and do not desire to hear. I have no tasks to impose on you no enemies to be destroyed — no need or desire of protection — no wish, Heaven knows, to expose you to danger — It is your visits here alone to which dan- ger attaches. You have but to rule your own wilful temper — to turn your thoughts and your cares else- where, and I can have nothing to ask—nothing to wish for. Use your own reason — consider the injury you do yourself — the injustice you do us — and let me, once more, in fair terms, entreat you to absent your- self from this place— till— till " vol. i. 15 17© PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. She paused, and Julian eagerly interrupted her, — "Till when, Alice? — impose on me any length of absence which your severity can inflict, short of a final separation — Say, begone for years, but return when these years are over; and, slow and wearily as they must pass away, still the thought, that they must at length have their period, will enable me to live through them. Let me, then, conjure thee, Alice, to name a date — to fix a term — to say till when.'" " Till you can bear to think of me only as a friend and sister." " That is a sentence of eternal banishment indeed," said Julian ; " it is seeming, no doubt, to fix a term of exile, but attaching to it an impossible condition." "And why impossible, Julian?" said Alice, in a tone of persuasion ; " were we not happier ere you threw the mask from your own countenance, and tore the veil from my foolish eyes ? Did we not meet with joy, spend our time happily, and part cheerily, because we transgressed no duty, and incurred no self-reproach ? Bring back that state of happy igno- rance, and you shall have no reason to call me unkind. But while you form schemes which I know to be ima- ginary, and use language of such violence and pas- sion, you shall excuse me if I now, and once for all declare, that since Deborah shows herself unfit for the trust reposed in her, and must needs expose me to persecutions of this nature, I will write to my fa- ther, that he may fix me another place of residence; and in the meanwhile I will take shelter with my aunt atKirk-Truagh." " Hear me unpitying girl," said Peveril, " hear me, and you shall see how devoted I am to obedience, in all that I can do to oblige you. You say you w r ere happy when we spoke not on such topics — well —at all expence of my own suppressed feelings, that happy period shall return. I will meet you — walk with you — read with you — but only as a brother would with his sister, or a friend with his friend; the thoughts I may nourish, be they of hope or of despair, my tongue shall not give birth to, and therefore lean- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. t/I not .offend ; Deborah shall be ever by your side, and her presence shall prevent my even hinting at what might displease )Ou — only do not make a crime to me of those thoughts, which are the dearest part of my existence ; for believe me it were better and kinder to rob me of existence itself." "This is the mere ecstacv of passion, Julian," answered Alice Bridgenorth ; "that which is unplea- sant, our selfish and stubborn will represents as impossible. I have no confidence in the plan you propose — no confidence in your resolution, and less titan none in the protection of Deborah. Till you can renounce, honestly and explicitly, the wishes you have lately expressed, we must he strangers ; — and could you renounce them even on this mo- ment, it were better that we should part for along time; and, for heaven's sake, let it be as soon as possible — perhaps it is even now too late to pre- vent some unpleasant accident — I thought I heard a noise." " It was Deborah," answered Julian. " Be not afraid, Alice ; we are secure against surprise." 11 1 know not," said Alice, "what you mean by such security — I have nothing to hide. I sought not this interview; on the contrary, averted it as long as I could — and am now most desirous to break it off." " x\nd wherefore, Alice, since you say it must be our last ? Why should you shake the sand which is passing so fast? the very executioner hurries not the prayers of the wretches upon the scaffold. And see you not — I will argue as coldly as you can desire — see you not that you are breaking your own word, and recalling the hope which yourself held out to me?" " What hope have I suggested ? What word have I given Julian?" answered Alice. " \ou )ourself build wild hopes in the air, and accuse me of destroying what had never any ear^ly foundation. Spare yourself, Julian — spare me — and in mercy to us both, depart, and return not again till you can be more reasonable," 17*2 PEVERIt OF THE PEAK. "Reasonable?" replied Julian; "it is you Alice, who will deprive me altogether of reason. Did you not say, that if our parents could be brought to consent to our union, you would no longer oppose my suit ?" " No— no — no," said Alice eagerly, and blushing deeply, — I did not say so, Julian — it was your own wild imagination which put construction on my silence and confusion." " You do not say so, then," answered Julian ; *"• and if all other obstacles were removed, 1 should find one in the cold flinty bosom of her .who pays the most devoted and sincere affection with con- tempt and dislike. Is that," he added in a deep tone 6f feeling, " is that what Alice Bridgenorth says to Julian Peverilr" " Indeed — indeed, Julian," said the almost weep- ing girl, *' I do not say so — I say nothing, and I ought not to say any thing concerning what I might do, in a state of things which can never take place. Indeed, Julian, you ought not thus to press me. Unprotected as I am — wishing you well — very well — why should you urge me to say or do what would lesson me in my own eyes ? to own affection for one from whom fate has separated me for ever? It is un- generous — it is cruel — it is seeking a momentary and seltish gratification to yourself, at the expense of every feeling which I ought to entertain." " You have said enough, Alice," said Julian, with sparkling eyes; "you have said enough in depreca- ting my urgency, and I will press you no further. But you overrate the impediments which lie betwixt us — they must and shall give way." " So you said before," answered Alice, "and with what probability, your own account may show. Y r ou dared not mention the subject to your own father — how should you venture to mention it to mine." " That I will soon enable you to decide upon. majorBridgenoft.h, by my mother's account, is a wor- thy and an estimable man. I will remind him, that to my mother's care he owes the dearest treasure and comtort of his life ; and I will ask him if it is a just PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, i?. : i retribution to make that mother childless. Let me but know where to find him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead my cause with him." " Alas !" answered Alice, " you well know my un- certainty as to my dear father's residence. How often has it been my earnest request to him that he would let me share his- solitary residence, or his ob- scure wanderings! But the short and unfrequent visits which he makes to this house are all that he permits me of his society. Something I might surely do, how- ever little to alleviate the melancholy by which he is oppressed." ' " Something we might both do," said Peveril. "How willingly would 1 aid you in so pleasing a task ? All old griefs should be forgotten — all old friendships revived. My father's prejudices are those of an Eng- lishman — strong, indeed, but not insurmountable by reason. Tell me, then, where Major Bridgenorth is, and leave the rest to me; or let me but know by what address your letters reach him, and 1 will forthwith essay to discover his dwelling." " Do not attempt it I charge you," said Alice. "He is already a man of sorrows ; and what would he think were I capable of entertaining a suit so likely to afdd to them ? Besides, I could not tell you, if I would, where he is now to be found. My letters reach him from time to time, by means of my aunt Christian; but of his address I am entirely ignorant." "Then, by Heaven," answered Julian, "I will watch his arrival in this island, and in this house ; and ere he has locked thee in his arms, he shall answer to me on the subject of my suit." Then demand that answer now — " said a voice from without the door, which was at the same time slowly opened. " Demand that answer now, for here stands Ralph Bridgenorth." As he spoke he entered the apartment with his usual slow and sedate step — raisedthis flapp'd and steeple-crowned hat from his brows and, standing in the midst of the room, eyed alternately his daughter 15 * 174 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. and Julian Peveril with a fixed and penetrating glance. " Father!" said Alice, utterly astonished, and ter- rified besides, by his sudden apoearance at such a con- juncture, — " Father, I am not to blame." " Of that anon, Alice," said Bridgenorth ; " mean- time retire to your apartment — I have that to say to this youth which will not endure your presence." "Indeed — indeed, father," said Alice, alarmed at what she supposed these words indicated, " Julian is as little to be blamed as I ! It was chance, it was for- tune, which caused our meeting together." Then suddenly rushing forward, she threw her arms around her father saying, " O do him no injury — he meant me no wrong ! Father, you were wont to be a man of reason and of religious peace. "And wherefore should I not be so now, Alice?" said Bridgenorth, raising his daughter from the ground, on which she had almost sunk in the earnest- ness of her supplication. " Doest thou know aught, maiden, which should inflame my anger against this young man, more than reason or religion may bridle ? Go — £0 to thy chamber. Compose thine own passions — learn to rule these — and leave it to me to deal with this stubborn young man." Alice arose, and, with her eyes fixed on the ground, retired slowly from the apartment. Julian followed her steps with his eyes till the last wave of her gar- ment was visible at the closing door; then turned his looks to Major Bridgenorth, and sunk them on the ground. The Major continued to regard him in pro- found silence; his looks were melancholy and even austere; but there was nothing which indicated either agitation or keen resentment. He motioned to Julian to take a seat, and assumed one himself. After which, he opened the conversation in the following manner : — " You seemed but now, young gentleman, anxious to learn where I was to be found. Such 1 at least conjectured, from the few expressions which I chanced to overhear; for I made bold, though it may be con- PEVEIUL OP THE PEAK. 175 trary to the code of modern courtesy, to listen a moment or two, in order to gather upon what subject so young a man as you entertained so young a woman as Alice, in a private interview." "T trust, sir," said Julian, rallying spirits in what he felt to be a case of extremity, "you have heard nothing on my part which has given offence to a gen- tleman, whom, though unknown, I am bound to re- spect so highly." " On the contrary," said Bridgenorth, with the same formal gravity, "I am pleased to find that your busi- ness is, or appears to be, with me, rather than with my daughter. T only think you had done better to have entrusted it to me in the first instance, as my sole concern." The utmost sharpness of attention which Julian ap- plied, could not discover if Bridgenorth spoke seri- ously or ironical I v to the above purpose. He was, however, quick-witted beyond his experience, and was internally determined to endeavour to discover something of the character and the temper of him with whom he spoke. For that purpose, regulating his replv in the same tone with Bridgenorth's obser- vation, he said, that not having the advantage to know his place of residence, he had applied for infor- mation to his daughter. "Who is now known to you for the first time?" said Bridgenorth. " Am I so to understand you ?" " By no means," answered Julian, looking down ; "I have been known to your daughter for many years; and what I wished to say, respects both her happiness and my own " " T must understand you," said Bridgenorth, " even as carnal men understand each other on the matters o r this world. You are attached to my daughter by the cords of love ; I have long known it." Ton, Master Bridgenorth?" exclaimed Peveril . " You have long known it-" " Yes young man. Think you, that as the father of an only child, T could have suffered Alice Bridge- noith — me only living pi dge of her who is now an angel in heaven — to have remained in this seclusion 176 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. •without the surest knowledge of all her material ac- tions ? I have, in person, seen more, both of her and of you, than you could be aware of; and when ab- sent in the body, I had the means of maintaining the same superintendence. Young man, they say that such love as you entertain for my daughter teaches much subtlety; but believe not that it can overreach the affection which a widowed father bears to an only child." "If," said Julian, his heart beating thick and joy- fully, " if you have known this intercourse so long, may I not hope that it has not met your disappro- bation ?" The Major paused for an instant, and then answer*, ed, " In some respect, certainly not. Had it done so — had there seemed ought on your side, or on my daughter's to have rendered your visits here danger- ous to her, or displeasing to me, she had not been long the inhabitant of this solitude, or of this island. But be not so hasty as to presume, that all which you may desire in this matter can be either easily or speedily accomplished." " I foresee, indeed, difficulties," answered Julian ; " but with your kind acquiescence, they are such as I trust to remove. My father is generous — my mother is candid and liberal. They loved you once, I trust they will love you again. I will be the mediator be- twixt you — peace and harmony shall once more in- habit our neighbourhood, and " Bridgenorth interrupted him with a grim smile; for such it seemed, as it passed over a face of deep melancholy. " My daughter well said, but short while past, that you were a dreamer of dreams — an archi- tect of plans and hopes fantastic as the visions of the sight. It is a great thing you ask of me; — the hand of my only child— the sun/of my worldly substance, though that is but dross in comparison. You ask the key of the only fountain from which I may yet hope to drink one pleasant draught ; you ask to be the sole and absolute keeper of my earthly happiness — and what have you ottered, or what have you to offer, in return of the surrender you require of me?" PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 177 " I am but too sensible." said Peveril, abashed at his own hasty conclusion, " how difficult it may be." " Nay, but interrupt me not," replied Bridgenorth, " till I show you the amount of what you oiler me in exchange for a boon, which, whatever may be its in- trinsic value, is earnestly desired by you, and compre- hends all that is valuable on earth which I have it in my power to bestow. You may have heard, that, in the late times, 1 was the antagonist of your father's principles and his profane faction, but not the enemy of his person." " I have ever heard," replied Julian, " much the contrary : and it was but now that I reminded you that you had been his friend/' " Ay. When he was in affliction and I in prosper- ity, I was neither unwilling, nor altogether unable, to show myself such. Well, the tables are turned — the times are changed. A peaceful and unoffending man might have expected from a neighbour, now powerful in his turn, such protection when walking in the paths of the law, as all men, subjects of the same realm, have a right to expect even from perfect strangers. — What chances ? I pursue, with the warrant of the King and law, a murtheress, bearing on her hand the blood of my near connexion, and I had, in such case a right to call on every liege subject to render assist- ance to the execution. My late friendly neighbour, bound, as a man and a magistrate, to give ready as- sitance to a legal action — bound, as a grateful and obliged friend, to respect my rights and my person — thrusts himself betwixt me—me, the avenger of blood — and my lawful captive; beats me to the earth, at once endangering my life, and, in mere human eyes, sullying mine honour : and under his protection, the Midianitish woman reaches, like a sea-eagle, the nest which she hath made in the rocks, and remains ther»e till gold, duly administered at court, wipes out all memory of her crime, and baffles the vengeance due to the memory of the best and bravest of men. — But," he added, apostrophizing the portrait of Christian, " thou art not yet forgotten ! The vengeance which dogs thy murtheress is slow, — but it is sure !" 178 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. There was a pause of some moments, which Julian Peveril, willing to hear to what conclusion Major Bridgenorth was finally to arrive, did not care to in- terrupt. Accordingly, in a few minutes the latter proceeded. — " These things," he said, " I recal not in bitterness, so far as they are personal to me— I re- cal them not in spite of heart, though they have been the means of banishing me from my place of resi- dence, where my fathers dwelt, and where my earthly comforts lie interred. But the public cause sets far- ther strife betwixt your father and me. Who so active as he to execute the fatal edict of black Saint Bartho- lomew's day, when so many hundreds of gospel preachers were expelled from house and home — from hearth and altar — from church and parish, to make room for belly-gods and thieves? Who, when a de- voted few of the Lord's people were united to lift the fallen standard, and once more advance the good cause, was the readiest to break their purpose- to search for, persecute, and apprehend them ? Whose breath did I feel warm on my neck — whose naked sword was thrust within a foot" of my body, whilst I lurked darkling, like a thief in concealment, in the house of my fathers ? — It was Geonrey Peveril's — it was your father's! — V. hat can you answer to all this, or how can you reconcile it with your present wishes?" Julian, in reply, could only remark, " That these injuries had been of long standing — that they had been done in heat of times, and heat of temper, and that Master Bridgenorth, in christian kindness, should not entertain a keen resentment of them, when a door was opened for a reconciliation." " Peace, young man," said Bridgenorth, " thou speak- est of thou knowest not what. To forgive our human wrongs is christian-like and commendable; but we have no commission to forgive those which have been done to the cause of religion and of liberty ; we have no right to grant immunity, or shake hands with those who have poured forth the blood of our brethren." He looked at the picture of Christian, and was silent for a few minutes, as if he feared to give too violent PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. lf$ >vay to his own impetuosity, and resumed the dis- course in a milder tone. " These things I point out to *ou, Julian that, I may show you how impossible, in the eyes of a merely worldly man, would be the union which you are de- sirous of. But Heaven hath at times opened a door, where man beholds no means of issue. Julian, >our mother, for one to whom the trutli is unknown, is, after the fashion of the world, one of the best, and one of the wisest of women : and Providence, which gave her so fair a form, and tenanted that form with a mind as pure as the original frailty of our vile nature will permit, means not, I trust, that she shall continue to the end to be a vessel of wrath and perdition. Of your father I say nothing — he is what the times and example of others, and the counsels of his lordly priest, have made him ; and of him, once more, I say nothing, save that I have power over him, which ere now he might have felt, but that there is one within his chambers, who might have suffered in his suffering; Nor do I wish to root up your ancient family. If I prize not your boast of family honours and pedigree, I would not willingly destroy them ; more than I* would pull down a moss-grown tower, or hew to the ground an ancient oak, save for the straighting of the common path, and the advantaging of the public. I have, therefore, no resentment against the humbled House of Peveril — nay, 1 have regard to it in its de- pression." He here made a second pause, as if he expected Ju- lian to say something. But notwithstandining the ar- dour with which the young man had pressed his suit, he was too much trained in ideas of the importance of his family, and in the bettor habit of respect for his parents, to hear without displeasure, some part of Bridgenorth*s discourse. "The house of Peveril," he replied, " was never humbled." " Had you said the sous of that house had never been humble? answered Bridgenorth, "you would have come nearer the truth. — Are you not humbled ? Live you not here, the lackey of a haughty woman, the play 180 ' PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. companion of an empty youth? If you leave this Isle and go to the court of England, see what regard will there be paid to tlfe old pedigree that deduces your descent from king and conquerors. A scurril or ob- scene jest, an impudent carriage, a laced cloak, a handful of gold, and the readiness to wager it on a card, or a die, will better advance you at the court of Charles, thau your father's ancient name, and slavish devotion of blood and fortune to the cause of his fa- ther." "That is, indeed, but too probable," said Peveril ; " but the court shall be no element of mine. I will live like my fathers, among my own people, care for their comforts, decide their differences " "Build May-poles, and dance around them," said Bridgenorth, with another of those grim smiles, which passed over his features like the light of a sexton's torch as it glares and is reflected by the window of the church, when he comes from locking a funeral vault. " No Julian, these are not times in which, by the dreaming drudgery of a country magistrate, and the petty cares of a country proprietor, a man can s'erve his unhappy country. There are mighty designs afloat, and men are called to make their choice betwixt God and Baal. The ancient superstition — the abomination of our fathers — is raising its head, and flinging abroad its snares, under the protection of the princes of the earth ; but she raises not her head unmarked or uu- watched ; the true English hearts are as thousands, which wait but a signal to arise as one man, and show the kings of the earth that they have combined in vain ! We will cast their cords from us — the cup of their abominations we will not taste." " You speak in darkness, Master Bridgenorth," said Peveril. " Knowing so much of me, you may, perhaps, also be aware, that I at least have seen too much of the delusions of Rome, to desire that they should be pro- pagated at home." " Else, wherefore do I speak to thee friendly and so free ?" said Bridgenorth. '« Do I not know, wita what readiness of early wit you baffled the wily attempts of the woman's priest to seduce thee from the Piotes- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 1S1 taut faith ? Do I not know, bow thou wast beset when abroad, and that thou didst both hold thine own faith and secure the wavering belief of thy friend? Said I not, this was done like the son of Margaret Peveril ? Said I not, he holdeth, as yet, but the dead letter — but the seed which is sown shall one day sprout and quick- en ? — Enough, however, of this. For to-day this is thy habitation. I will see in thee neither the servant of that daughter of Ethbaal, no nor the son of him who pursued my life, and blemished my honours ; but thou shalt be to me, for this day, as the child of her with- out whom my house had been extinct." So saying, he stretched out his thin bony hand, and grasped that of Julian Peveril ; but there was such a look of mourning in his welcome, that what- ever delight the youth anticipated, spending so long a time in the neighbourhood of Alice Bridgenorth,. perhaps in her society, or however strongly he felt the prudence of conciliating her father's good will, he could not help feeling as if his heart was chilled in his company. CHAPTER XIV. This day at least is friendship's — on the morrow Let strife come as she will. Otway. Deborah Debbitch, summoned by her master, now made her appearance, with her handkerchief at her eyes, and an appearance of great mental trou- ble. "It was not my fault Major Bridgenorth," she said; "how could I help it? like will to like — the boy would come — the girl would see him." " Peace, foolish woman," said Bridgenorth, " and hear what I have got to say." " I know what your honour has to say well enough," said Deborah. " Service, I wot is no inheritance, now-a-days — some are wiser than other some — if I had not been wheedled away from Martindale, I might have had a house of my own by this time." vol. i. 10 |'8*2 PEVERIL OF. THE PEAK. " Peace, idiot 1" said Bridgenorth ; but so intent was Deborah on her own vindication, that he could but thrust the interjection, as it were edgeways, between her exclamations, which followed as thick as is usual in cases, where folks endeavour to avert deserved censure by a clamorous justification ere the charge be brought. " So wonder she was cheated," she said, " out of sight of her own interest, when it was to wait on pret- ty Miss Alice. All your honour's gold should never have tempted me, but that I knew she was but a dead rast-a-v; ay, poor innocent, if she were taken away from my lady or me. — And so this is the end on't — up early, and down late — and this is all my thanks! — but )Our honour had better take care what you do — she has the short cough yet sometimes — and should take physic, spring and fall." *' Peace, chattering fool !" said her master, so soon as her failing breath gave him an opportunity to strike in, "thinkest thou I knew not of this young gen- tleman's vitsits to the Black-Fort, and that if they had displeased me, I would not have known how to stop them ?" " Did I know that your honour knew of his visits!" exclaimed Deborah, in a triumphant tone, — for, like most of her condition, she never sought farther for her defence than a lie, however inconsistent and im- probable — " Did I know that your honour knew of it? — Why, how should I have permitted his visits else? I wonder what your honour takes me for! Had I not been sure it* was the thing in this world* that your honour most desired, would I have presum- ed to lend it a hand forward ? 1 trust I know my duty better. Hear if I ever asked another young- ster into the house save himself— for I knew your ho- nour was wise, and quarrels cannot last for ever, and love begins where hatred ends ; and, to be sure they look as if they were born one for the other — and then, the estates of Moultrassie and Martindale suit each other like sheath and knife." «« Parrot of a woman, hold your tongue !" said Brids-enorth. his patience almost completely exhaust PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 183 ed ; cs or if you will prate, let it be to your play-fel- lows in the kitchen, and bid them get us some dinner presently, for Master Peveril is far from home." " That I will, and with all my heart," said Deborah ; " and if there are a pair of fatter fowls in Man than shall clasp their wings on the table presently, your honour shall call me goose as well as parrot." She then left the apartment. " It is to such a woman as that," said Bridgenorth, looking after her significantly, " that you conceive me to have abandoned the charge of my only child? But enough of this subject — we will walk abroad, if you will, while she is engaged in a province fitter for her understanding." So saying, he left the house, accompanied by Julian Peveril, and they were soon walking side by side, as if they had been old acquaintances. It may have happened to many of our readers, as it has done to ourselves, to be thrown by accident in- to society with some individual whose claims to what is called a serious character stand considerably higher than our own, and with whom therefore, we have conceived ourselves likely to spend our tLne in a very stiff and constrained manner ; while on the other hand, our destined companion may have ap- prehended some disgust from the supposed levity and thoughtless gaiety of a disposition so different from his own. Now it has frequently happened, that when we, with that urbanity and good humour which is our principal characteristic, have accommodated ourself Ho our companion, by throwing as much seriousness into our conversation as our habits will admit, he, on the other hand, moved by our liberal example, hath divested his manners of a part of their austerity ; and our conversation has, in consequence, been of that pleasant texture, betwixt the useful and agreeable, which best resembles " the fairy-web of night and day," usually called in prose the twilight. It is pro- bable both parties may, on such occasions, have been the better for their encounter, even if it went no far- ther than to establish for the time a community ol feeling between men, who, separated more perhaps 184 PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. by temper than by principle, are too apt to charge each other with profane frivolity onthe one hand, or fanaticism on the other. It fared thus in Peveril's walk with Bridgenorth. and in the conversation which he held with him. Carefully avoiding the subject on which he had al- ready spoken, Master Bridgenorth turned his conver- sation chiefly on foreign travel, and on the wonders he had seen in distant countries, and which he ap- peared to have marked with a curious and observant eye. This discourse made the time fly light away ; for although the anecdotes and observations thus communicated, were all tinged with the serious and almost gloomy spirit of the narrator, they yet con- tained traits of interest and of wonder, such as arr usually interesting to a youthful ear, and were parti- cularly so to Julian, who had, in his disposition, some cast of the romantic and adventurous. It appeared that Bridgenorth knew the south of France, and could tell many stories of the French Hu- guenots, who already began to sustain those vexations which a few years afterward were summoned up by the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. He had even been in Hungary, for he spoke as from personal know- ledge of the character of several of the heads of the great Protestant insurrection, which at this time had taken place under the celebrated Tekeli ; and laid down solid reasons why they were entitled to make common cause with the Great Turk, rather than sub- mit to the Pope of Rome. He talked also of Savoy,, where those of the reformed religion still suffered a cruel persecution ; and he mentioned, with a swelling spirit, the protection which Oliver had afforded to the oppressed Protestant churches ; " there in showing himself/' he added, " more fit to wield the supreme power, than those who claming it by right of inheri- tance, use it only for their own vain and voluptuous pursuits." " I did not expect," said Peveril, modestly, " to have heard Oliver's panegyric from you Master Bridge- north." " I do not panegyrise him," answered Bridgenorth ; PEVERXL OF THE PEAK. 18£ •* I speak but truth of that extraordinary man, now being dead, whom, when alive, I feared not to with- stand to his face. It is the fault of the present unhap- py King, if he make us look back with regret to the days when the nation was respected abroad, and when devotion and sobriety were practised at home. — But I mean not to vex your spirit by controversy. You have lived amongst those who find it more easy and more- pleasant to be the pensioners of France than her con- trollers — to spend the money which she doles out to themselves, than to check the tyranny with which she oppresses our poor brethren of the religion. When the scales shaHjfali from thine eyes, ail this thou shah see ; and seeing, shalt learn to detest and despise it." By this time they had completed their walk, and were returned to Black-Fort by a»different path from that which had led them up the valley. The exercise and the general tone of conversation had removed, in some degree, the shyness and embarrassment which Peverii originally felt in Bridgenorth's presence, and which the tenor of his first remarks had rather increased than diminished. Deborah's promised banquet was soon on the board ; and in simplicity, as well as neatness and good order, answered the character she had claimed for it. In one respect alone, there seemed some in- consistency, perhaps a little affectation. Most of the dishes were of silver, and the plates were of the same metal ; instead of the trenchers and pewter which Pe- verii had usually seen employed on similar occasions at Black-Fort. Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a pleasant dream from which he fears to waken, and whose delight is mingled with wonder and with un- certainty, Julian Peverii found himself seated between Alice Bridgenorth and her father — the being he most loved on earth, and the person whom he had ever con- sidered as the great obstacle to their intercourse. — The confusion of his mind was such, that he could scarcely reply to the importunate civilities of Dame Deborah ; who seated with thern at table in her quality of gouvernante, now dispensed the good things which .had been prepared under her own eye. 1G * 186 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. As for Alice, she seemed to have formed a resort lution to play the mute; for she answered not, ex- cepting briefly, to the questions of Dame Debbitch ; nay, even when her father, which happened once or twice, attempted to bring her forward in the conver- sation, she made no further reply than respect for him rendered absolutely necessary. Upon Bridgenorth himself, then devolved the task of entertaining the company ; and, contrary to his ordinary habits, he did not seem to shrink from it; His discourse was not only easy, but almost cheer- ful, though ever and anon crossed by some ex- pressions indicative of natural and habitual melan- choly, or prophetic of future misfortune and woe. Flashes of enthusiasm, too, shot along his conver- sation, gleaming like the«sheet-lightning of an autumn eve. which throws a strong, though momentary illu- mination across the sober twilight, and all the sur- rounding objects, which, touched by it, assume a wilder and more striking character. In general, how- ever, Bridgenorth's remarks were plain and sensi- ble • and as he aimed at no graces of language, any ornament which they received arose out of the inte- rest with which they were impressed on his hearer*. For example, when Deborah in the pride and vulga- rity of her heart, called Julian's attention to the platf from which they had been eating, Bridgenorth seem- ed to think an apology necessary for such superfluous expense. "It was a symptom," he said, " of approaching danger, when men, who were not usually influenced by the vanities of life, employed much money in or- naments composed of the precious metals. It was a sign that the merchant could not obtain a profit for, the capital, which, for the sake of security, he invest- ed in this inert form. It was a proof that the noble men or gentlemen feared the rapacity of power, when they put their wealth into forms the most portable and the most capable of being hidden ; and it showed the uncertainty of credit, when a man of judgment pre- ferred the actual possession of a mass of silver to the convenience of a goldsmith's or a banker's receipt, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 18? While a shadow of liberty remained," he said, " do- mestic rights were last invaded ; and, therefore, meu disposed upon their cupboards and tables the wealth which in these places would remain longest, though not perhaps, finally, sacred from the grasp of a tyran- nical government. But let there be a demand for capital to support a profitable commerce, and the mass is at once consigned to the furnace, and, ceasing to be a vain and cumberous ornament of the banquet, becomes a potent and acitve agent for furthering the prosperity of the country." " In war, too," said Peveril, " plate has been found a ready resource." "But too much so," answered Bridgenorth. "In the late times, the plate of the nobles and gentry with that of the colleges and the sale of the crown-jewels, enabled the king to make his unhappy stand, which prevented matters returning to a state of peace and good order, until the sword had attained an undue superiority both over king and parliament." He looked at Julian as he spoke, much as he who proves a horse offers some object suddenly to his eyes, then watches to see if he starts or blenches from it. But Julian's thoughts were too much bent on other topics to manifest any alarm. His answer re- ferred to a previous part of Bridgenorth's discourse^ and was not returned till after a brief pause. " War^ then," he said, " war, the grand impoverishes is also a creator of the wealth which it wastes and devours." " Yes," replied Bridgenorth, " even as the sluice brings into action the sleeping waters of the lake, which it linally drains. Necessity invents arts and discovers means ; and what necessity is sterner than that of civil war? Therefore, even war is not in itself unmixed evil, being the creator of impulses and ener- gies which could not otherwise have existed in so- ciety." " Men should go to war, then," said Peveril, "that ihey may send their silver-plate to the mint, and eat from pewter dishes and wooden platters ?" * " Not so, iny son," said Bridgenorth. Then check- er! himself as he observed the deep crimson in Ju* 188 PEVER1L OF THE PEAtf. Han's cheek and brow, he added, " I crave your pardon for such familiarity ; but [ meant not to limit what I said even now to such trifling consequences, although it may be something salutary to tear men from their pomps and luxuries, and teach those to be Romans who would otherwise be Sybarites. But I would say„ that times of public danger, as they call into circula- tion the miser's hoard and the proud man's bullion, and so add to the circulating wealth of the country, do also call into action many a brave and noble spirit, which would otherwise lie torpid, give no example to the living, and bequeath no name to future ages. So- ciety knows not, and cannot know, the mental trea- sures which slumber in her bosom, till necessity and opportunity cali forth the statesman and the soldier from the shades of lowly life to the parts they are de- signed by Providence to perform, and the station which nature had qualified them to hold. So rose Oliver — so rose Milton — so rose many another name which cannot be forgotten — even as the tempest sum- mons forth and displays the address of the mariner." " You speak," said Peveril, " as if national calamity might be, in some sort, an advantange." " And if it were not so," replied Bridgenorth, " it had not existed in this state of trial, where all tempo- ral evil is alleviated by something good in its progress or result, and where all that is good is close coupled with that which is in itself evil." " It must be a noble sight," said Julian, " to behold the slumbering energies of a great mind awakened into energy, and see it assume the authority which is its clue over spirils more meanly endowed." " I once witnessed," said Bridgenorth, " something fo the same effect ; and as the tale is brief, I will tell it you, if you will : — k< Amongst my wanderings, the Transatlantic set- tlements have not escaped me ; more especially the country of New England, into which our native land has shaken from her lap, as a drunkard flings from him his treasures, so much that is precious in the eyes of God and of his children. There thousands of our Nest and most godly men — such whose righteousness PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. ISP might come between the Almighty and his wrath, and prevent the ruin of cities— are content to be the in- habitants of the desert, rather encountering the unen- lightened savages, than stooping to extinguish, under the oppression practised in Britain, the light that is within their own minds. There I remained for a time, during the wars which the colony maintained with Philip, a great Indian Chief, or Sachem as they were called, who seemed a messenger sent from Satan to buffet them. His cruelty was great — his dissimu- lation profound ; and the skill and promptitude with which he maintained a destructive and desultory warfare, inflicted many dreadful calamities on the settlement, i was, by chance, at a small village in the woods, more (ban thirty miles from Boston, and in its situation exceedingly lonely, and surrounded with thickets. Nevertheless, there was no idea of any danger from the Indians at that time, for men trust- ed to the protection of a considerable body of troops who had taken the field for protection of the frontiers., and who lay, or were supposed to lie, betwixt the hamlet and the enemy's country. But they had to d© with a foe, whom the devil himself had inspired at once with cunning and cruelty. It was on a Sab- bath morning, when we had assembled to take sweet counsel together in the Lord's house. Our tem- ple was but constructed of wooden logs ; but when* shall the chaunt of trained hirelings, or the sounding of tin and brass tubes amid the aisles of a minister, arise so sweetly to heaven, as did the psalm in which we united at once our hearts and our voices S An ex- cellent worthy, who now sleeps in the Lord, Nehe- miah Solsgrace, long the companion of my pilgrim- age, had just begun to wrestle in prayer, when a wo- man, with disordered looks and dishevelled hair, en- tered our chapel in a distracted manner, screaming incessantly, * The Indians ! The Indians !' — In that land no man dares separate himself from his defences; and whether in the city or in the field, in the ploughed land or the forest, men keep beside them their wea- pons, as did the Jews at the rebuilding of the Temple. So we sallied forth with our guns and pikes, and heard 190 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. the whoop of these incarnate devils, already in pos session of a part of a town, and exercising their cru- elty on the tew whom weighty causes or indisposion had withheld from public worship; and it was remark- ed as a judgment, that, upon that bloody Sabbath, Adrian Hanson, a Dutchman, a man well enough towards man, but whose mind was altogether given to worldly gain, was shot and scalped as he was sum- ming his weekly gains in his warehouse. In fine, there was much damage done, and although our arrival and entrance into combat did in some s rt put them back, yet being surprised and confused, and having no ap- pointed leader of our band, the devilish enemy shot hard at us, and had some advantage. It was pitiful to hear the screams of women and children amid the report of guns and the whistling of bullets, mixed with the. ferocious yells of these savages, which they term their war-whoop. Several houses in the upper part of the village were soon on fire ; and the roaring of the flames, and crackling of the great beams as they blazed, added to the horrible confusion ; while the smoke which the wind drove against us gave further advantage to the enemy, who fought, as it were, in- visible, and under cover, whilst we fell fast by their unerring lire. In this state of confusion, and while we were about to adopt the desperate project of eva- luating the village, and, placing the women and child- ren in the centre, of attempting a retreat to the near- est settlement, it pleased Heaven to send us unexpect- ed assistance. A tall man, of a reverend appearance, whom no one of us had ever seen before, suddenly was in the midst of us, as he hastily agitated the reso- lution of retreating. His garments were of the skin of the elk, and he wore sword, and carried gun ; I never saw any thing more august than his features, overshadowed by locks of grey hair, which mingled with a long beard of the same colour. ' Men and brethren/ he said, in a voice like that which turns back the flight, * why sink your hearts? and why are you thus disquieted ? Fear ye that the God we serve will give you up to yonder heathen dogs ? Follow mc and you shall see this day that there is a captain m PEVERIL 0£ THE PEAK. 101 Israel !' He uttered a lew brief but distinct orders, in the tone of one who was accustomed to command ; and such was the influence of his appearance, his mien, his language, and his presence of mind, that he- was implicitly obeyed by men who had never seen him until that moment. We were hastily divided, at his order, into two bodies; one of which maintained the defence of the village with more courage than ever, convinced that the Unknown was sent by God to our rescue. At his command they assumed the best and most sheltered position for exchanging their deadly fire with the Indians ; while, under cover of the smoke, the stranger sallied from the town, at the head of the other division of the New England men, and, fetching a circuit, attacked the Red War- riors in the rear. The surprise, as is usual amongst savages, had complete effect; for they doubted not that they were assailed in their turn, and placed be- twixt two hostile parties by the return of a detach- ment from the provincial army. The heathens fled in confusion, abandoning the half-won village, and leaving behind them such a number of their warriors, that the tribe hath never recorded their loss. Never shall I forget the figure of our venerable leader, when our men, and not they only, but the women and chil- dren of the village, rescued from the tomahawk and seal ping-knife, stood crowded around him, yet scarce venturing to approach his person, and more minded, perhaps, to worship him as a descended angel, than to thank him as a fellow-mortal. ' Not unto me be the glory/ he said; 'I am but an implement, frail as yourselves in the hand of Him who is strong to de- liver. Bring me a cup of water, that I may allay my parched throat, ere I assay the task of offering thanks where they are most due.' I was nearest to him as lie spoke, and I gave into his hand the water he re- quested. At that moment we exchanged glances, and it seemed to' me that I recognized a noble friend whom I had long since deemed in glory ; but he gave me no time to speak, had speech been prudent. Sinking on his knees, and signing us to obey him-. 192 TEVERIL OF THE PEAK. he poured forth a strong and energetic thanksgiving for the turning back of the battle, which prouounced with a voice loud and clear as a war trumpet, thrilled through the joints and marrow of the hearers. I have heard many an act of devotion in my life, had Heaven vouchsafed me grace to profit by them ; but such a prayer as this, uttered amid the dead and the dy- ing, with a rich tone of mingled triumph and adora- tion, was beyond them all — it was like the song of the inspired prophetess who dwelt beneath the balm- tree between Ramah and Bethel. He was silent; and for a brief space we remained with our faces bent to to the earth — no man daring to lift his head. At length we looked up, but our deliverer was no longer amongst us; nor was he ever again seen in the land which he had rescued." Here Bridgenorth, who had told this singular story with an eloquence and vivacity of detail very con- trary to the usual dryness of his conversation, paused for an instant, and then resumed : — " Thou seest, young man, that men of valour and of discretion are called forth to command in circumstances of national exigence, though their very existence is unknown in the land which they are predestined to deliver." " But what thought the people of the mysterious stranger?" said Julian, who had listened with eager- ness, for the story was of a kind interesting to the youthful and the brave. "Many things," answered Bridgenorth, "and as usual, little to the purpose. The prevailing opinion was, notwithstanding his own disclamation, that the stranger was really a supernatural being; others be- lieved him an inspired champion, transported in the body from some distant climate, to show us the way to safety ; others, again concluded that he was a re- cluse, who, either from motives of piety, or other co- gent reasons, had become a dweller in the wilderness, and shunned the face of man." " And, if I may presume to ask," said Julian, "to which of these opinions were you disposed to adhere ?" " The last suit best with the transcient though close PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 193 view with which I had perused the stranger's features," replied Bridgenorth ; '* for although i dispute, not that it may please Heaven, on high occasions, even to raise one from the dead in defence of his country, yet I doubted not then, as I doubt not now, that I looked on the living form of one? who had indeed powerful reasons to conceal him in the cleft of the rock." 14 Are these reasons a secret ?" asked Julian Peveril. " Not properly a secret," replied Bridgenorth; " for I fear not thy betraying what I might tell thee in private discourse ; and besides, wert thou so bise, the prey lies too distant for any hunters to whom thou couldst point out its traces. But the name of this worthy will sound harsh in thy ear, on account of one action of his life — being his accession to a great measure, which made the extreme isles of the earth to tremble. Have you never heard of Richard Whalley ?" '* Of the regicide?" exclaimed Peveril, starting. "Call his act what thou wilt," said Bridgenorth ; " he was not less the rescuer of that devoted village, that, with other leading spirits of the age. he sat in the judg- ment seat when Charles Stuart was arraigned at the bar, and subscribed the sentence that went forth upon him." " I have ever heard," said Julian, in an altered voice, and colouring deeply " that you. Master Bridgenorth, with other Presbyterians, were totall) averse to that de- testable crime, and were ready to have made joint cause with the Cavaliers in preventing so horrible a parricide." " If it were so," replied Bridgenorth, i% we have been richly rewarded by his successor." *" Rewarded !" exclaimed Julian ; " Does the dis- tinction of good and evil, and our obligation to do the one and forbear the other, depend on the reward which may attach to our actions ?" " God forbid." answered Bridgenorth ; " yet those who view the havoc which this House of Stuart have made in the, church and State — the tyranny whxhthey exercise over men'< persons and consciences — ma) well doubt vvhether it be lawful to use weapons ki their de- vol. i. 17 194 i'EVERIL OF THE PEAK, fence. Yet you hear me not praise, or even vindicate the death of the King, though so far deserved, as he was false to his oath as a Prince and magistrate. 1 only tell you what you desired to know, that Richard Whalley, ^one of the late King's judges, was he of whom I have just been speaking. I knew his lofty brow, though time had made it balder and higher ; his gray eye retained all its lustre; and though the grizzled beard covered the lower part of his face, it prevented me not from recog- nizing him. The scent was hot after him for his blood ; but by the assistance of those friends whom Heaven had raised up for his preservation, he was concealed careful- ly, and emerged only to do the will of Providence, in the matter of that battle. Perhaps his voice may be heard in the field once more, should England need one of her noblest hearts." " Now God forbid !" said Julian. " Amen," returned Bridgenorth. " May God avert civil war, and pardon those whose madness would bring it on us." There was a long pause, during which Julian, who had scarce lifted his eyes towards Alice, stole a glance in that direction, and was struck by the deep cast of me- lancholy which had stolen over features, to which a cheerful, if not a gay expression, was most natural. So soon as she caught his rye. she remarked, and, as Ju- lian thought, with significance, that the shadows were lengthening, and evening coming on. He heard ; and although satisfied that she hinted at his departure, he could not, upon the instant, find reso- lution to break the spell which detained him. The language which Bridgenorth held was not only new and alarming, but so contrary to the maxims in which he was brought up, that, as a son of Sir Geoffre) Peveril of the Peak, he would, in another case, have thought himself called upon to dispute its conclusions, even at th»' sword's point. But Bridgenorth's opinions were dc- liv f wd with so much calmness — seemed so much the result of conviction — that they excited in Julian rather PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 195 a spirit of wonder, than of angry controversy. There was a character of sober decision, and sedate melancho- ly, in all that he said ; which, even had he not been the father of Alice, (and perhaps Julian was not himself aware how much he was influenced by that circum- stance,) would have rendered it difficult to take personal offence. His language and sentiments were of that quiet, yet decided kind, upon which it is difficult either to fix controversy, or quarrel, although it be impossible to acquiesce in the conclusions, to which they lead. While Julian remained, as if spell-bound to his chair, scarce more surprised at the company in which he found himself, than at the opinions to which he was listening, another circumstance reminded him that the proper time of his stay at Black-Fort had been expended. Lirtle Fairy, the Manx poney, which, well accustomed to the vicinity of Black-Fort, used to feed near the hduse while his master made his visits there, began to find his pre- sent stay rather too long. She had been the gift of the Countess to Julian, whilst a youth, and came of a high- spirited mountain breed, remarkable alike for hardiness, for longevity, and for a degree of sagacity approaching to that of the dog. Fairy showed the latter quality, by the way in which she chose to express her impatience to be moving homewards. At least such seemed the purpose of the shrill neigh with which she startled the female inmates of the parlour, who, the moment after- wards, could not forbear smiling to see the nose of the poney advanced through the opened casement. " Fairy reminds me," said Julian, looking to Alice, and rising, " that the term of my stay here is exhausted." " Speak with me yet one moment," said Bridgenorth, withdrawing him into a Gothic recess of the old-fashion- ed apartment, and speaking so low that he could not be overheard by Alice and her gouvcrnante, who, in the mean-time, caressed, and fed with fragments of bread, the intruder Fairy. " You have not, after all," said Bridgenorth, " told me the cause of your coming hither." He stopped, as 196 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. if to enjoy his embarrassment, and then added " and indeed it were most unnecssary that you should do so. " I have not so far forgotten the days of my youth, or those affections which bind poor frail humanity but too much to the things of this world. Will you find no -word-, to ask of me the great boon which you seek, and which, peradventure, you would not have hesitated to make your own, without my knowledge, and against my consent ? — Nay, never vindicate thyself, but mark me farther. The patriarch bought his beloved by four- teen years hard service to her father Laban, and they seemed f o him but as a few days. But he that would Wf d my daughter, must serve, in comparison, but a few days ; though in matters of such mighty import, that they shall seem as the service of many years. — Reply .^not to me now, but go, and peace be with you." ^^ He retired so quickly, after speaking, that Peveril hal literally not an instant to reply. He cast his eyes around the apartment, but Deborah and her charge had also disappeared. His gaze rested for a moment on the portrait of Christian, and his imagination suggc-ted, •h;t his dark features were illuminated by a smile of haughty triumph. He started, and looked more atten- tively — it was but the effect of the evening beam, which touched the picture at the instant. The effect was gone, and there remained but the fixed, grave, inflexible fea- tures of the republican soldier. Julian left the apartment as one who walks in a dream ; he mounted Fairy, and, agitated by a variety of thoughts, which he was unable to reduce to order, he returned to Castle-Rushiu before the night sat down. Here he found all in movement. The Countess, with her son, had, upon some news received, or resolution formed, during his absence, removed, with a principal part of their family, to the yet stronger Castle of Holm- Peel, about eight miles distance across the island ; and which had bee motes, as they were called, on which, in ancient times, the northern tribes elected or recognized their chiefs, and held their solemn popular assemblies, or comitia. There was also one of those singular towers, so common in Ireland as to have proved the favourite theme of her antiquaries; but of which the real use and meaning seems vet to be hidden in the mist of ages. This of Holm- Peel had been convened to the purpose of a watch tower. There were, besides, Runic monuments, of which tie legends could not be deciphered ; and later inscriptions to the memory of champions, of whom the names only were preserved from oblivion. But tradi- tion and superstitious eld. still most bus> where real his- tory is silent, had iilled up the long blank of accurate information with tales of Sea-kiugs and Pirates, He- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 19S bridean Chiefs and Norwegian Resolutes, who . bad formerly warred against, and in defence of, this famous castle. Superstition, too, had her tales of fairies, ghosts, and spectres — her legends of saints and demons, of fairies and of familiar spirits, which in no corner of the British empire are toid and received with more absolute credulity than in ihe Isle of Man. Amidst all these ruins of an older time arose the Castle itself, — now ruinous — but in Charles II. 's reign well garrisoned* and in a military point of view, kept in complete order. It was a venerable and very ancient building, containing several apartments of sufficient size and height to be termed noble. But in the surren- der of the island by ( hr stian, the furniture had been, in a great measure, plundered or destroyed by the re- publican soldiers ; so that, as we have before hinted, its present state was ill adapted for the residence of the noble proprietor. Yet it had been often the abode, not only of the Lords of Man, but of those state prisoners whom the Kings of Britain sometimes committed to their charge. In this Castle of Holm-Peel the great king maker, Retard Carl of Warwick, was confined, during one period of his eventful life, to ruminate at leisure on his farther schemes of ambition. And here, too, Eleanor, the haughty wife of the good Duke of Gloucester, pined out in seclusion the last days of her banishment. The sentinels pretended that her discontented spectre was oft- en visible at ni^ht, traversing the battlements of the ex- ternal walls, or standing motionless beside a particular solitary turret of one of the watchtowers with which they are flanked ; but dissolving into air at cock-crow, or when the bell tolled from the yet remaining tower of Saint Germain's Cliurch. Such was Holm-Peel, as records inform us, till to- wards the end of the seventeeth century. It was in 'one of the lofty but almost unfurnished apartments of this ancient castle that Julian Peveril found his friend the Earl of Derb>, who had that mo- 200 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ment sate down to a breakfast composed of various sorts of fish. t{ Welcome, most imperial Julian, " he said ; " welcome to our royal fortress ; in which, as yet, we are not like to be starved with hunger, though well nigh dead for cold." Julian answered by inquiring the meaning of this sud- den movement. " Upon my word," replied the Earl, " you know nearly as much of it as I do. My mother has told me nothing about it ; supposing, I believe, that I will at length be tempted to inquire ; but she will find herself much mistaken. I shall give her credit for full wisdom in her proceedings, rather than put her to the trouble to render a reason, though no woman can render one better." " Come, come ; this is affectation, my good friend," said Julian. " You should inquire into these matters a little more curiously.'' " To what purpose ?" said the Earl. " To hear old stories about the Tynwald laws, and the contending rights of the lords and the clergy, and all the rest of that Celtic barbarism, which, likeBurgesse's thorough-paced doctrine, emers at one ear, paces through, and goes out at the other ?" " Come, my lord,' 5 said Julian, " you are not so in- different as you would represent yourself — you are dy- ing of curiosity to know what this hurry is about ; only you think it the courtly humour to appear careless about your own aff irs." "Why, u nat should it be about," said the young Earl. " unless some factious dispute between our Majes- ty's minister, Governor Now el, and our vassals ? or per- haps some dispute betwixt our Majesty and the ecclesias- tical jurisdictions ? for all which, our Majesty cares as little as any king in Christendom." " I rather suppose there is intelligence from England," said Julian. " 1 heard last night in Peel-town, that Greer.halgh is come over with unpleasant news." " He brought me nothing that was pleasant, I wot well," said the Earl. " 1 expected something from St. rEYEr.lL t OF THE TEAK. 201 Evremond or Hamilton — some new plays by Dryden or Lee ; and some waggery or lampoons from the Rose Coffee-hotise ; and the fellow i.as brought me nothing but a parcel of tracts about Protestants and Papists, and a folio play-book, one of the conceptions, as she calls them, of that old madwoman, the Dutchess of New- castle. " Hush, my lord, for Heaven's sake,' 1 said Peveril ; c; here comes the Countess ; and you know she takes fire at the least slight to her ancient friend.'' " Let her read her ancient friend's works herself then," said the Earl, *' and think her as wise as she can : but! woul .1 not give one of Waller's songs, or Den man's sa- tires, for a whole cart-load of her Grace's trash. — But here comes our mother, with care on her brow." The Countess of Derby entered the apartment accord- ingly, holding in her hand a number of papers. Her dress was a mourning habit, with a deep train of black veivet, which was borne by a little favourite attendant, a deaf and dumb girl, whom, in compassion to her mis- fortune, the Countess had educated about her person for some years. Upon this unfortunate, with the touch of romance which marked many of her proceedings, Lady Derby had conferred the name of Fenella, after some ancient princess of the island. The Countess herself was not much changed since we last presented her to our readers. Age had rendered her step more slow, but not less majestic ; and while it traced some wrinkles on her brow, had failed to quench the sedate fire of her dark eye. The young men rose to recehe her with the formal reverence which they knew she loved, and were greeted by her with equal kindness. " Cousin Peveril," she said, (for so she always called Juiian. in respect of his mother being a kinswoman of her husband,) " you were ill abroad last night, when we much needed your counsel." Julian answered with a blush which he could not pre- vent, ''That he had followed his sport among the moun- tains too far — had returned late — and finding her lady- ship was removed from Castletown, had instantly follow- -202 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ed the family hither; but as the night-bell was rung, and the watch set, he had deemed it more respectful to lodge for the night in the town." "It is well," said the Countess; "and to do you jus- tice, Julian, you are seldom a truant negleeter of ap- pointed hours, though, like the rest of the youth of this age, you sometimes suffer your sports" to consume too much of time that should be spent otherwise. But for your friend Philip, he is an avowed contemner of good order, and seems to find pleasure in wasting time, even when lie does not enjoy it," " I have been enjoying my time just now at least,'' said the Earl, rising from table, and picking his teeth carelessly. " These fresh mullets are delicious, and so is the Lachrymal Christi. I pray you to sit down to breakfast, Julian, and partake the goods my royal fore- sight has provided. Never was King of Man nearer being left to the mercy of the execrable brandy of his dominions. Old Griffith would never, in the midst of our speedy retreat last night, have had sense enough to secure a few flasks, had I not given him a hint on that important subject. But presence of mind, amid danger and tumult, is a jewel I have always possessed." " I wish, then, Philip, you would exert it to better pur- pose," said the Countess, half smiling, half displeased ; for she doated upon her son with all a mother's fondness, even when she was most angry with him for being defi- cient in the peculiar and chivalrous disposition which had distinguished his father, and which was so analogous to her own romantic and high-minded character. "Lend me your signet," she added with a sigh ; " for it were, I fear, vain to ask you to read over these dispatches from England, and execute the warrants which I have thought necessary to prepare in consequence." "My signet you shall command with all my heart, madam," said Earl Philip ; " but spare me the revision of what you are much more capable to decide upon. I am, you know, a most complete Moifaineant, and »ev*r once interfered with my Moire c!e yalais in her proceedings." The Countess made signs to her little train-bearer, who 1'EVERIL OP THE PEAK. 203 immediate! v went to seek wax and a light, with which she presently returned. In the mean- while, the Countess continued addressing Peveril. " Philip does himself less than justice. When you were absent, Julian, (for if you had been here I would have given you the credit of prompting: your friend,) he had a spirited controversy with the Bishop, for an attempt to enforce spiritual censures against a poor wretch, by confining her in the vault under the chapel." " Do not think better of me than I deserve," said the Earl to Peveril ; " my mother has omitted to tell you the culprit was pretty Peggy of Ramsay, and her crime what in Cupid -s courts would have been called a pecca- dillo." " o not you make yourself worse than you are," re- plied Peveril, who observed the Countess's cheek red- den, — " you know you would have done as much for the oldest and poorest cripple in the island. Why, the vault is under the burial ground of the chapel, and for ought I know, under the ocean itself, such a roaring do the waves make in its vicinity. I think no one could remain there long, and retain his ivason." " It is an infernal hole," answered the Earl, " and 1 will have it built up one day — that is full certain. — But hold — hold — for God's sake, madam — what are you go- inir to do? — Lotfk at the seal before you put it to the warrant — you will see it is a choice antique cameo Cu- pid, riding on a flying fish — I had it for twenty zecchins, from Signor Furabosco at Rome — a most curious mat- ter for an antiquary, but which will add little faith to a Manx warrant." " Flow can you trifle thus, you simple boy ?" said the Countess, with vexation in her tone and look. " Let me have your signet, or rather, take these warrants, and sign them yourself." " My signet— my signet — Oh! you mean thai with the three monstrous legs, which 1 suppose wasdevss las the most preposterous device to represent our most ab- surd Majesty of Man. — The signet — I have not seen it # 204 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. since I gave it to Gibbon, my monkey, to play with. — He did whine Tor it most piteously — 1 hope he has not gemed the green breast of ocean with my symbol of sovereignty.'' " Now, by Heaven, " said the Countess, trembling, and colouring deeply with anger, " it was your father's signet ! the last pledge which he sent, with his love to me, and his blessing to thee, the night before they murdered him at Bolton !" " Mother, dearest mother," said the Earl, startled out of his apathy, and taking her hand, which he kissed tenderly, " I did but jest — the signet is safe — Peveril knows that it is so. — Go fetch it, Julian, for Heaven's sake — here are my keys—it is in the left hand drawer of my travelling cabinet.— Nay, mother, forgive me — it was but a mauvaise plaisanterie ; only an ill imagined jest, ungracious, and in bad taste, I allow — but only one of Philip-* follies. Look at me, dearest mother, and for- give me." I The Countess turned her eyes towards him, from which the tears were fast falling. "Philip," she said, "you try me too unkindly, and too severely. If times are changed, as I have heard you allege — if the dignity of rank, and the high feelings of honour and duty, are now drowned in giddy jests and trifling pursuits, let me at least, who live secluded from all others, die without perceiving the change which has happened, and, above all, without perceiving it in mine own son. Let me not learn the general prevalence of this levity, which laughs at every sense of dignity or duty, through your personal disrespect — Let me not think that when 1 die " " Speak nothing of it, mother," said the Earl, inter- rupting her affectionately* " It is true, 1 cannot pro- mise to he all my father and his lathers were ; for we wear silk vests for their steel coats, and feathered bea- - for their crested helmets. But believe me, though to be an absol ite Palmerin of England is not in my na ': lure, no son ever loved a mother more dearly, or would do more to oblige her. And that you may own this, I PEV&RIfc OF THE PEAK. 2"0o wiii forthwith not only seal the warrants to the great eft- dangerment of my precious fingers, but also read the same from end to end, as well as the despatches there- unto appertaining." A mother is easily appeased, even when most offend- ed ; and it was with an expanding heart that the Countess saw her son's very handsome features, while reading these papers, settle into an expression of deep seriousness, such as they seldom wore. It seemed to her as if the family likeness to his gallant but unfortun- ate father increased, when the expression of their counte- nances became similar in gravity. The Earl had no sooner perused the despatches, which he did with great attention, than he rose and said, ; ' Julian, come with me." The Countess looked surprised, " I was wont to share your father's counsels, my son," she said ; " but do not think that I wish to intrude myself upon yours. I am too well pleased to see you assume the power and the duty of thinking for yourself, which is what I have so long urged you to do. Nevertheless, my experience, who have been so long administrator of your authority in Man, might not, I think, be superfluous to the matter in hand." " Hold me excused, dearest mother," said the Earl, gravely. " The interference was none of my seeking ; had you taken your own course, without consulting me. it had been well ; but since I have entered on the affair — and it appears sufficiently important — 1 must transact it to the best of my own ability." " Go then, my son" said the Countess, '* and may Heaven enlighten thee with its counsel, since thou wilt ha,ve none of mine. I trust that you, Master Peveril, will remind him of what is fit for his own honour ; and that only a coward abandons his rights, and only a fool trusts his enemies." The Earl answered not, but, taking Peveril by the arm, led him up a winding stair to his own apartment, and from thence into a projecting turret, where, amidst the vol* i. 18 lOS PEVERIL Otf THE PEAK, roar of waves and seamews' clang, he held with h • he following conversation : " Peveril, it is well 1 looked into these warrants. My mother queens it at such a rate as may cost me not only my crown, which I care little for, but perhaps my head, which, though others may think little of, I would feel it an inconvenience to be deprived of." " What on earth is the matter ?" said Peveril, with considerable anxiety. r Vi " It seems," said the Earl of Derby, " that Old Eng- land, who takes a frolicsome brain-fever once every two or three years, for the benefit of her doctors, and the purification of the torpid lethargy brought on by peace and prosperity, is now gone stark staring mad on the subject of a real or supposed Popish Plot. I read one program on the subject, by a fellow called Oates, and thought it the most absurd foolery I ever perused. But that cunning fellow Shaftesbury, and some others amongst the great ones, have taken it up, and are driv- ing on at such a rate as makes harness crack, and horses smoke for it. The King, who has sworn never to kiss the pillow his father went to sleep on, temporizes and gives way to the current; the Duke of York, suspected and hated on account of his religion, is about to be driven to the continent; several principal Catholic no- bles are in the Tower already ; and the nation, like a bull at Tmbury- running, is persecuted with so many inflammatory rumours and pestilent pamphlets, that she has cocked her tail, flung up her heels, taken the bit betwixt her teeth, and is as furiously unmanageable as in the year 1642." " All this you must have known already," said Pe- veril ; " 1 wonder you told me not of news so import- ant." u It woukl have taken long to tell, ".said the Earl: " moreover I desired to have you solus ; thirdly, I was about to speak when my mother entered ; and to con- clude, it was no business of mine. But these despatches of my politic mother's private correspondent put a new PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 207 face on the whole matter ; for it seems some of the in- formers — a trade which, having become a thriving one, is now pursued by many — have dared to glance at 'the Countess herself as an agent in this same plot — ay, and have found those that are willing enough to believe their report." " On mine honour," said Peveril, " you both take it tvith great coolness. I think the Countess the most com- posed of the two ; for, except her movement hither, she exhibited no mark of alarm, and moreover, seemed no way more anxious to communicate the matter to youi lordship than decency rendered necessary." " My good mother," said the Earl, " loves power, though it has cost her dear. I wish I could truly say that my neglect of business is entirely assumed in order to leave it in her hands, but that better motive combines with natural indolence. But she seems to have feared I should not think exactly like her in this emergency, and she was right in supposing so." " How comes the emergency upon you ?" said Julian; M and what form does the danger assume ?" " Marry, thus it is," said the Earl : " I need not bid you remember the affair of Colonel Christian. That man, besides his widow, who is possessed of large property — Dame Christian of Kirk-Traugh, whom you have often heard of, and perhaps seen — -left a brother called Edward Christian, whom you never saw at all, Now this brother — but I dare say you know all about it." " Not I, on my honour," said Peveril 5 " you know \he Countess seldom or never alludes to the subject." " Why," replied the Count, " I believe in her heart she is something ashamed of that gallant act of royalty and supreme jurisdiction, the consequences of which maimed my estate so cruelly. — Well, cousin, this same Edward Christian was one of the deemsters at the time, and naturally enough, was unwilling to concur in the sentence which ajudged his ainee to be shot like a dog. My mother, who was then in high force, and not to be 'rolled by any one, would have served the deemster 208 peveril of the pea a with the same sauce with which she dressed his brou had he not been wise enough to fly from the Island, Since that time, the thing has slept on all hands ; and though we knew that Deemster Christian made occa- sionally secret visits to his friends in the island, along with two or three other Puritans of the same stamp, and particularly a prickeared rogue, called Bridgenorth, yet my mother, thank Heaven, has hitherto had the sense to connive at them, though, for some reason or other, she holds this Bridgenorth in especial disfavour/ 1 " And why/' said Peveril, forcing himself to speak, in order to conceal the very unpleasant surprise which he felt, u why does the Countess now depart from so prudent a line of conduct?" " You must know the case is now different* The rogues are not satisfed with toleration— they would have supremacy. They have found friends in the pre- sent heat of the popular mind. My mother's name, and especially that of her confessor, Aldrick the Jesuit, hat been mentioned in this beautiful maze of a plot, which, if any such at all exists, she knows as little of as you or I. However, she is a Catholic, and that is enough; and I have little doubt, that if the fellows could seize or: our scrap of a kingdom here, and cut all our throats, they would have the thanks of the present House o* Commons, as willingly as old Christian had those of the Rump, for a similar service." ' 5 From whence did you receive all this information ?** said Peveril, again speaking, though by the same efforj which a man makes who talks in his sleep. " Aldrick has seen the Duke of York in secret, and hib> Royal Highness, who wept while he confessed his wan I of power to protect his friends— and it is no trifle will wring tears from him— told him to send us information that we should look to our safety, for that Deemster Chris- tian and Bridgenorth were in the island, with secret and severe orders ; that they had formed a considerable part} there, and were like to be owned and protected in any thing they might undertake against us. The people of Ramsay and Castletown are unluckily discontented. 2EVEB1L OF THE PEAK. 2QS about some new regulations of the impost; and, to tell you the truth, though i thought yesterday's sudden re- move a whim of my mother's, I am almost satisfied they would have blockaded us in Rushin Castle, where we could not have held out for lack of provisions. Here we are better supplied, and, as we are on our guard, it is likely the intended rising will not take place." " And what is to be done in this emergency ?'• said Peveril. " That is the very question, my gentle coz," answered the Earl. " My mother sees but one way of going to work, and that is by royal authority. Here are the war- rants she had prepared, to search for, take, and appre- hend the bodies of Edward Christian and Robert — no. Ralph Bridgenorth, and bring them to instant trial. No doubt, she would soon have had them in the Castle court. with a dozen of the old matchlocks levelled against thera — that is her way of solving all sudden difficulties." " But in which, I trust, you do not acquiesce, my lord,'* answered Peveril, whose thoughts instantly reverted to Alice, if they could ever be said to be absent from her. " Truly, I acquiesce ifl no such matter," said the Earl. ; ' William Christian "s death cost me a fair half of my in- heritance. I have no fancy to fall under the displeasure of my royal brother, King Charles, for a new escapade of the same kind. Bot how to pacify my mother, I know not. I would the insurrection would take place, and then, as we are better provided than they can be, we might knock the knaves on the head ; and yet, since they began the fray, we should keep the law on our side." '• Were it not better," said Peveril, "if by any means these men could be induced to quit the island ?" " Surely," replied the Earl ; " but that will be no easy matter — they are stubborn on principle, and empty threats will not move them. This stormblast in London is wind in their sails, and they will run their length, you may depend on it. 1 have sent orders, however, to clap up the Manx- men upon whose assistance they depended, and if I can find the two worthies themselves, here are sloops enough in the harbour — I will take the freedom 18* 1 210 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, to send them on a pretty distant voyage, and 1 hope mat- ters will be settled before they return to give an account of it.*' At this moment a soldier belonging to the garrison approached the two young men, with many bows and tokens of respect. " How now, friend ?" said the Earl to him " Leave off thy courtesies, and tell thy business.*" The man, who was a native islander, answered in Manx, that he had a letter for his honour. Master Julian Peve- ril. Julian snatched the billet hastily, and asked whence it came. " It was delivered to him by a young woman," the soldier replied, " who had given him a piece of money to deliver it into Master PeveriPs own hand." " Thou art a lucky fellow, Julian." said the Earl. " With that grave brow of thine, and thy character for sobriety and early wisdom, you set the girls a wooing, without waiting till they are asked ; whilst I, their drudge and vassal, waste both language and leisure, without get- ting a kind word or look, far less a billet-doux." This the young Earl said with a smile of conscious triumph, as in fact he valued himself not a little upon the interest which he supposed himself to possess in the fail? sex. Mean-while the letter impressed on Peveril a different train of thoughts from what his companion apprehended* it was in Alice's hand, and contained these few words : — "I fear what I am going to do is wrong ; but I must see you. Meet me at noon at Goddard Crovan's Stone with as much secrecy as you may.'' The letter was signed only with the initials A. B. : but Julian had no difficulty in recognizing the hand-writ- ing, which he had often seen, and which was remarkably beautiful. He stood suspended, for he saw the difficulty and impropriety of withdrawing himself from the Count- ess and his friend at this moment of impending danger : and yet, to neglect this invitation was not to be thought of. He paused in the utmost perplexity. " Shall I read your riddle ?" said the Earl. " Go where love calls vou — I will make an excuse to mv mo- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 211 iher — only, most grave anchorite, be hereafter more in- dulgent to the feelings of others than 3011 have been hi- therto, and blaspheme not the power of the little deity. r " Nay, but Cousin Derby " said Peveril, and lopped short, for he really knew not what to say. Se~ ged himself by a virtuous passion from the contagious influence of the time, he had seen with regret his noble kinsman mingle more in its irregularities than he approv- ed of, and had sometimes played the part of a monitor. Circumstances seemed at present to give the Earl a right of retaliation. He kept his eye fixed on his friend, as it lie waited till he should complete his sentence, at length exclaimed, " What, cousin, quite a-la-mort ! O, most judicious Julian ! O, most precise Peveril ! have you be- stowed so much wisdom on me that you have none left for yourself? Come, be frank — tell me name and place — or say but the colour of the eyes of the most emphatic she — or do but let me have the pleasure to let me hear thee say, ' I love !' — confess one touch of human frailty — conjugate the verb amo, and I will be a gentle school- master, and you shall have, as father Richards used to say, when we were under his ferule, ' licentia exeundi.' :? " Enjoy your pleasant humour at my expense, my lord,'' said Peveril; " I fairly will confess thus much, that I would fain, if it consisted with my honour and your safety, have two hours at my own disposal ; the more especially as the manner in which I shall employ them may much concern the safety of the island." " Very likely, I dare say,' 5 answered the Earl, still laughing. " No doubt you are summoned out by some Lady Politic Woudbe of the isle, to talk over some of the breast-laws ; but never mind — go, and go speedily, that you may return as quick as possible. I expect no immediate explosion of this grand conspiracy. When the rogues see us on our guard, they will be cautious how they break out. Only, once more, make haste." Peveril thought this last advice was not to be neglect- ed ; and glad to extricate himself from the raillery of his cousin, walked down towards the gate of the Castle, meaning to cross over to the village, and there take horse at the Earl's stables, for the place of rendezvous, 512 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK, CHAPTER XVI, Jcaslo. Can she not speak ? Osteoid. If speech be only in accented sound's; Framed by the tongue and lips, the maiden's dumb But if by quick and apprehensive look, By motion, sign, and glance, to give each meaning. Express as clothed in language be termed speech, She hath that, wondrous faculty ; for her eyes, fake the bright stars of heaven, can hold discourse. Though it be mute and soundless. Old Play At the head of the first flight of steps which descend- ed towards the difficult and well defended entrance Of the Castle of Holm-Peel, Peveril was met and stopped by the Countess's train bearer. This little creature, for she was of the least and slightest size of womankind, was exquisitely well formed in all her limbs, which the dress she usually wore, (a green silk tunic, of a peculiar form) set off to the best advantage. Her face was darker than the usual hue of Europeans; and the pro- fusion of long and silken hair, which, when she undid the braids in which she commonly wore it, fell down almost to her ancles, was also rather a foreign attribute. Her countenance resembled a most beautiful miniature: and there was a quickness, decision, and fire, in Fenel- la's look, and especially in her eyes, which was proba- biv rendered yet more alert and acute,, because, through the imperfection of her other organs, it was only by sight that she could obtain information of what passed around her. The pretty mute was mistress of many little accom- plishments which the. Countess had caused to be taught PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 213 to her in compassion for her forlorn situation, and which she learned with the most surprising quickness. Thus, for example, she was exquisite in the use of the needle, and so ready and ingenious a draughtswoman, that, like the ancient Mexicans, she sometimes made a hasty sketch with her pencil the means of conveying her ideas, either by direct or emblematical representation. Above all, in the art of ornamental writing, much studi- ed at that period, Fenella was so great a proficient, as to rival the fame of Messrs. Snow, Shelly, and other masters of the pen, whose copybooks, preserved in the libraries of the curious, still show the artists smiling on the frontispiece in all the honours of flowing gowns and full bottomed wigs, to the eternal glory of caligraphy. The little maiden had. besides these accomplishments, much ready wit and acuteness of intellect. With Lady Derby, and with the two young gentlemen, she was a great favourite, and used much freedom in conversing with them, by means of a system of signs which had been gradually established amongst them, and which served all ordinary purposes of communication. But, though happy in the indulgence! and favour of her mistress, from whom indeed she u as seldom separate. Fenella was by no means a favourite with the rest of the household. In fact, it seemed that her temper, ex- asperated perhaps by a sense of her misfortune, was by no means equal to her abilities. She was very haughty in her demeanour, even towards the upper domestics, who in that establishment were of a much higher rank and better birth than in the families of the nobility in general. These often complained, not only of her pride and reserve, but of her high and irascible temper and vindictive disposition. Her passionate propensity had been indeed idly encouraged by the young men, and particularly by the Earl, who sometimes amused himsell with teazing her, that he might enjoy the various sin- gular motions and murmurs by which she expressed her resentment. Towards him, these were of course only petulant and whimsical indications of pettish anger. But when she was angry with others of inferior degree 214 PEVERIL Or THE PEAK. —before whom she did not control herself — the expres sion of her passion, unable to display itself in language, had something even frightful, so singular were the tones, contortions, and gestures, to which she had recourse. The lower domestics, to whom she was liberal almost beyond her apparent means, observed her with much deference anl respect, but much more from fear than from any real attachment ; for the caprices of her tem- per displayed themselves even in her gifts; and those who most frequently shared her bounty, seemed by no means assured of the benevolence of the motives which dictated her liberality. All these peculiarities led to a conclusion consonant with Manx superstition. Devout believers in all the le- gends of fairies so dear to the Celtic tribes, that Manx people held it for certainty that the elves were in the ha- bit of carrying off mortal children before baptism, and leaving in the cradle of the new born babe one of their own brood, which was almost always imperfect in some one or other of the organs proper to humanity. Such a being they conceived Fenella to be ; and the smallness of her size, her dark complexion, her long locks of silken hair, the singularity of her manners and tones, as well as the caprices of her temper, were to their thinking all attributes of the irritable, fickle, and dangerous race from which they supposed her to be sprung. And it Seemed, that although no jest appeared to offend her more than when Lord Derby called her in sport the Elfin Queen, or otherwise alluded to her supposed connexion with " the pigmy folk," yet still her perpetually affect- ing to wear the colour of green, proper to the fairies, as well as some other peculiarities, seemed voluntarily assumed by her, in order to countenance the superstition,, perhaps because it gave her more authority among the lower orders. Many were the tales circulated respecting the Coun- tess's Elf, as Fenella was currently called in the island ; and the malcontents of the stricter persuasion were con- vinced, that no one but a Papist, and a malignant, would have kept near her person a creature of such I PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 1\o doubtful origin. They conceived that Fenella's deaf- ness and dumbness were only towards those of this world, and that she had been heard talking, and sing- ing, and laughing, most elvishly, with the invisibles of her own race. They alleged, also, that she had a Double, a sort of apparition resembling her, which slept in the Countess's anti-room, or bore her train, or wrought in her cabinet, while the real Fenella joined the song of the mermaids on the moonlight sands, or the dance of the fairies in the haunted valley of Glenmoy, or on the heights of Snawfell and Barool. The centinels, too. would have sworn they had seen the little maiden trip past them in their solitary night walks, without their having it in their power to challenge her, any more than if they had been as mute as herself. To all this mass of absurdities the better informed paid no more attention than to the usual idle exaggerations of the vulgar, which so frequently connect that which is unusual with what is supernatural. Such, in form and habits, was the little female, who, holding in her hand a small old fashioned ebony rod, which might have passed for a divining wand, confront- ed Julian on the top of the flight of steps which led down the rock from the Castle court. We ought to ob- serve, that as Julian's manner to the unfortunate girl had been always gentle, and free from :hose teazing jests in which his gay friend indulged, with less regard to the peculiarity of her situation and feelings ; so Fe- nella, on her part, had usually shown much greater de- ference to him than to any of the household, her mis- tress, the Countess, always excepted. On the present occasion, planting herself in the very midst of the narrow descent, so as to make it impossible for Peveril to pass by her, she proceeded to put him to the question of a series of gestures, which we will endea- vour to describe. She commenced by extending her hand slightly! accompanied with the sharp inquisitive look which served her as a note of interrogation. This was meant as an inquiry if he was going to a distance, Julian, in reply, extended his arm more than half, to in- 216 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. iimatethat the distance was considerable. Fenella look- ed grave, shook her head, and pointed to the Countess's window, which was visible from the spot where they stood. Peveril smiled, and nodded, to intimate there was no danger in quitting her mistress for a short space. The little maiden next touched an eagle's feather which she wore in her hair, a sign which she usually employed to designate the Earl, and then looked inquisitively at Julian once more, as if to say, "Goes he with you?" Peveril shook his head, and, somewhat wearied by these mterrogatories, smiled, and made an effort to pass. 'Fe- nella frowned, struck the end of her ebony rod perpen- dicularly on the ground, and again shook her head, as if opposing his departure. But finding that Julian per- severed in his purpose, she suddenly assumed another and a milder mood, held him by the skirt of his cloak with one hand, and raised the other in an imploring at- titude, whilst ever} 7 feature of her lively countenance was composed into the like expression of supplication ; and the fire of the large dark eyes, which seemed in general so keen and piercing as almost to over-animate the little sphere to which they belonged, seemed quenched, for the moment, in the large drops which hung on her long eye- lashes, but without (ailing. Julian Peveril was far from being void of sympathy towards the poor girl, whose motives in opposing his departure seemed to be her affectionate apprehension for her mistress's safety. He endeavoured to reassure her by smiles, and at the same time, by such signs as he could devise, to intimate that there was no danger, and that he would return presently ; and having succeeded in extricating his cloak from her grasp, and in passing her on the stair, he began to descend the steps as speedi- ly ne could, in order to avoid further importunity. But with activity much greater than his, the dumb maiden hastened to intercept him, and succeeded by throwing herself, at the imminent risk of life and limb, a second time into the pass which he was descending, so as to interrupt his purpose. In order to achieve this, ihe was obliged to let herself drop a considerable height I PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 217 from the wall of a small flanking battery, where two small patereroes were placed to scour the pass, in case any enemy could have mounted so high. Julian had scarce time to shudder at her purpose, as he beheld her about to spring from the parapet, ere, like a thing of gossamer, she stood light, and uninjured on the rocky platform below. He endeavoured, by the gravity of his look and gesture, to make her understand how much he blamed her rashness ; but the reproof, though obviously quite intelligible, was entirely thrown away. A hasty wave of her hand intimated how she contemned the dan- ger and the remonstrance; while, at the same time, she instantly resumed, with more eagerness than before, the earnest and impressive gestures by which she endeavour- ed to detain him in the fortress. Julian was somewhat staggered by her pertinacity. "Is it possible," he thought, "that any danger can ap- proach the Countess, of which this poor maiden has, by the extreme acuteuess of her observation, obtained knowledge which has escaped others:" He signed to Fenella hastily to give him the tablets and the pencil which she usually carried with her, and wrote on them the question, " Is there danger near to your mistress, that yon thus stop me f " "There is danger around the Countess, r ' was the an- swer instantly wiitten clown; " but there is much more in your own purpose." "How? — what? — what know you of my purpose?" MU 1 Julian, forgetting, in his surprise, that the party he addressed had neither ear to comprehend, nor voice to reply to uttered ianguage. She had. regained her book in the mean-time, and sketched, with a rapid pencil, on one of the leaves, a scene uhieh she slowed to Julian. To his infinite surprise he recognized Goddard Croi an's stone, a remarkable monument, of w\ ,Ai -he had given the oioi'.iie withsufrcientaccurac) ; together with a male and female figure, which, though only indicted by a tVw slight touches of the pencil, bore vet, he thought, some resemblance Jo himself and Alice Bridgenorth. \\ hen he had gazed on the sketch for an nioiaut with * vol. i. 19 218 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. surprise, Fenella took the book from his hand, laid her finger upon the drawing, and slowly and sternly shook Iicr head, with a frown which seemed to prohibit the meeting which was there represented. Julian, however, though disconcerted was in no shape disposed to submit to the authority of his monitress. By whatever means she, who so seldom stirred from the Countess's apartment, had become acquainted with a secret which he thought entirely his own, he esteemed it the more necessarv to keep the appointed rendezvous, that he might learn from Alice, if possible, how the secret had transpired. He had also formed the intention of seeking out Bridge- north ; entertaining an idea that a person so reasonable and calm as he had shown himself in their late confer- ence, might be persuaded, when he understood that the Countess was aware of his intrigues, to put an end to her danger and his own, by withdrawing from the island. And could he succeed in this point, he should at once, he thought, render a material benefit to the father of his beloved Alice — remove the Earl from his state of anxie- ty — save the Countess from a second time putting her feudal jurisdiction in opposition to that of the Crown of England — and secure quiet possession of the island to her and her family. With this scheme of mediation in his mind, Peveril determined to rid himself of the opposition of Fenella to his departure, with less ceremony than he had hitherto observed towards her; and suddenly lifting up the dam- sel in his arms before she was aware of his purpose, he turned about, set her down on the steps above him, and be- gan to descend the pass himself as speedily as possible. It was then that the dumb maiden gave full course to the ve- hemence of her disposition ; and clapping her hands re- peatedly, expressed her displeasure in a sound, or rather a shriek, so extremely dissonant, that it resembled more I the cry of a wild creature, than any thing whiclrxould have been uttered by female organs. Peveril was so astounded at the scream as it rung through the living rocks, that he could not help stopping and looking back in alarm, to satisfv himself that she had not sustained PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 219 some injury. He saw her, however, perfectly safe, though her face seemed inflamed and distorted with passion. She stamped at him with her foot, shook her clenched hand, and turning her back upon him, without further adieu, ran up the rude steps as lightly as a kid could have tripped up that rugged ascent, and paused for a moment at the summit of the first flight. Julian could feel nothing but wonder and compassion for the impotent passion of a being so unfortunately cir- cumstanced, cut off, as it were, from the rest of mankind, and incapable of receiving in childhood that moral dis- cipline which teaches us mastery of our wayward pas- sions, ere yet they have attained their meridian strength and violence. He waved his hand to her, in token of amicable farewell; but she only replied by once more menacing him with her little hand clenched; and then ascending the rocky staircase with almost prenatural speed, was soon out of sight. Julian, on his part, gave no further consideration to her conduct or its motives, but hastening to the village on the mainland, where the stables of the Castle were situated, he again took his palfrey from the stall, and was soon mounted and on his way to the appointed place of rendezvous, much marvelling, as he ambled forwards with speed far greater than was promised by the diminu- tive size of the animal he was mounted on, what could have happened to produce so great a change in Alice's conduct towards him, that in place of enjoining his ab- sence as usual, or recommending his departure from the island, she should now voluntarily invite him to a meet- ing. Under impression of the various doubts which suc- ceeded each other in his imagination, he sometimes press- ed Fairy's sides with his legs : sometimes laid his holly rod lightly on his neck ; sometimes incited him by his voice, for the mettled animal needed neither whip nor spur, and achieved the distance betwixt the Castle of Holm-Peel and the stone at Goddard Crovan,at the rate of twelve miles within the hour. The monumental stone, designed to commemorate some feat of an ancient King of Man, which had been 2&0 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. loner forerotten, was erected on the side of a narrow and lonely valley, or rather glen, secluded from observation by the steepness of its banks, upon a projection of which stood the tall, shapeless, solitary rock, frowning like a shrouded giant over the brawling of the small rivulet- which watered the ravine. CHAPTER XVI. Tliis a love-meeting-? Seethe maiden mourn9, And the sad suitor bends his looks on earth. There's more hath past between them than belongs To Love's sweet sorrows. Old Play. As he approached the monument of Goddard Crovan, Julian cast many an anxious glance to see whether any object visible beside the huge gray stone should apprize him, whether he was anticipated, at the appointed place of rendezvous, by her who had named it. Nor was it long before the flutter of a mantle, which the breeze slightly waved, and the motion necessary to replace it upon the wearer's shoulders, made him aware that Alice had already reached their place of meeting. One instant set the palfrey at liberty, with slackened girths and loosened reins, to pick its own way through the dell at will ; another placed Julian Peveril by the side of Alice Bridgenorth. That Alice should extend her hand to her lover, as with the ardour of a young greyhound he bounded over the obstacles of the rugged path, was as natural as that Julian, seized on the hand so kindly stretched out, should devour it with kisses, and, for a moment or two, without reprehension; while the other hand, which should have aided in the liberation of its fellow, served to hide the blushes of the fair owner. But Alice, young as she was, and attached to Julian by such long habits of kindly in- timacy, still knew well how to subdue the tendency of her own treacherous affections. PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. -21 ''This is not right," she said, extricating her hand from Julian's grasp, " this is not right, Julian. If I have been too rash in admitting such a meetiug as the present, it is not you that should make me sensible of my folly." Julian Peveril's mind had been early illumined with that touch of romantic fire which deprives passion of selfishness, and confers on it the high and refined tone of generous and disinterested devotion. He let go the hand of Alice with as much respect as he could have paid to that of a princess ; and when she seated herself upon a rocky fragment, over which nature had stretched a cushion of moss and lichen, interspersed with wild flowers, backed with a bush of copsewood, he took his place beside her, indeed, but at such a distance as to in- timate the duty of an attendant, who was there only to hear and to obey. Alice Bridgenorth became more as- sured as she observed the power which she possessed over her lover; and the self command which Peveril exhibited, which other damsels in her situation might have judged inconsistent with intensity of passion, she appreciated more justly, as a proof of his respectful and disinterested sincerity. She recovered, in addressing him, th< tone of confidence which rather belonged to the scenes of their early acquaintance, than to those which hame then, Alice, ?md since you condemn me to banishment — since you 226 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. deny me a share in those stirring achievements which are about to agitate England — come ! do you, for you only can, do you reconcile me to exile and inaction, and give happiness to one, who, for your sake, is willing to resign honour." " It cannot — it cannot be," said Alice, faltering as she uttered her negative. " And yet," she said, " how many in my place — left alone and unprotected, as I am ■ — But I must not — I must not for your sake^ Julian, I must not." " Say not for my sake you must not, Alice," said Pe- veril, eagerly ; " this is adding insult to cruelty. If you will do aught for my sake, you will say )es; or you will' suffer this dear head to drop on my shoulder—- the slightest sign — the moving of an eyelid, shall signify consent. All shall be prepared within an hour; within another, the priest shall unite us ; and within a third, . we leave the isle behind us, and seek our fortunes on the continent." But while he spoke, in joyful antici- pation of the consent which he implored, Alice found means to collect together her resolution, which stagger- ed by the eagerness of her lover, the impulse of her own affection, and the singularity of her situation, — seeming, in her case, to justify what would have been most blame- able in another, — had more than half abandoned her. The result of a moment's deliberation was fatal to Julian's proposal. She extricated herself from the arm which had pressed her to his side — arose, and repelling his attempts to approach or detain her, said, with a sim- plicity not unmingled with dignity, " Julian, I always knew I risked much in inviting you to this meeting ; but I did not guess that I could have been so cruel both to you and to myself, as to suffer you to discover what you have to-day seen too plainly — that I love you better than you love me. But since you do know it, I will show you that Alice's love is disinterested— She will not bring an ignoble name into your ancient house. If hereafter in your line there should arise some who may think the claims of the hierarchy too exorbitant, the powers of the crown too extensive, men shall not say these ideas were derived from Alice Bridgenorth, their whig grand-dame/' PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 227 " Can you speak thus, Alice ?" said her lover. " Can you use such expressions ? and are you not sensible that they show plainly it is your own pride, not regard for me, that makes you resist the happines> of both ?" " Not so, Julian ; not so,'' answered Alice, with tears in her eyes ; " it is the command of duty to us both — of duty, which we cannot transgress without risking our happiness here and hereafter. Think what I, the cause of all, should feel, when your father frowns, your mother weeps, your noble friends stand aloof, and you, even you yourself, shall have made the painful discovery, that you hare incurred the contempt and resentment of all to sa- tisfy a boyish passion ; and that the poor beauty, once sufficient to mislead you, was gradually declining under the influence of grief and vexation. This I will not risk. 1 see distinctly it is best we should here break off and part; and I thank God, who gives me light enough to perceive, and strength enough to withstand, your folly as well as my own. Farewell then, Julian ; but first take the solemn advice which I called you hither to im- part to you : — Shun my father — you cannot walk in his paths and be true to gratitude and to honour. What he doeth from pure and honourable motives, you cannot aid him in, except upon the suggestion of a silly and interest- ed passion, at variance with all the engagements you have formed at coming into life." "Once more, Alice," answered Julian, "I under- stand you not. If a course of action is good, it needs no vindication from the actor's motives — if bad, it can derive none." " You cannot blind me with your sophistry, Julian," replied Alice Bridgenorth, " any more than you can overpower me with your passion. Had the patriarch destined his son to death upon any less ground than faith and humble obedience to a divine commandment, lie had meditated a murder, and not. a sacrifice. In our late bloody and lame'ntable wars, how many drew swords on either sides, from the purest and most honourable mo- tives'? How many from the culpable suggestions of am- bition, self-seeking, and love of plunder? Yet while 228 l'EVERIL OF THE PEAK. tliev marched in the same ranks, and spurred their horses at (he same trumpet-sound, the memory of the former are dear to us as patriots or loyalists — that of those who acted on mean or unworthy promptings, is either exe- crated or forgotten. Once more, 1 warn you, avoid my father - leave this island, which will be soon agitated by strange incidents — while you stay, be on your guard — distrust every thing — be jealous of every one, even of those to whom it may seem almost impossible, from cir- cumstances, to attach a shadow of suspicion — trust not the very stones of the most secret apartment in Holm- Pee!, for that which hath wings shall carry the matter." Here Alice broke off suddenly, and with a faint shriek ; for, stepping from behind the stunted copse which had concealed him, her father stood unexpectedly before them. The reader cannot have forgotten that this was the second time in which the stolen interviews of the lovers had been interrupted by the unexpected apparition of Major Bridgenorth. On this second occasion his coun- tenance exhibited anger mixed with solemnity, like that of the spirit to a ghost-seer, whom he upbraids with hav- ing neglected a charge imposed at their first meeting. Even his anger, how ever, produced no more violent emo- tion than a cold sternness of manner in his speech and action. " 1 thank you, Alice,'' he said to his daughter, " for the pains you have taken to traverse my designs towards this young man, and towards yourself. I thank you for the hints you have throw n out before my appear- ance, the suddenness of which alone has prevented you from carrying your confidence to a pitch which would have placed mv life and that of others at the discretion of a boy, who, when the cause of God and his country is laid before him, has not leisure to think of them, so much is he occupied with such a baby-face as thine." Alice, pale as death, continued motionless, with her eyes fixed on the ground, without attempting the slightest reply to the ironical reproaches of her father. " And you," continued Major Bridgenorth, turning from his daughter to her - lover,—" you, sir, have PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 229 well repaid the liberal confidence which I placed in you with so little reserve. You I have to thank also for some lessons, which may teach me to rest satisfied with the churl's blood which nature has poured into my viens, and with the rude nurture which my father allotted to me." " I understand you not, sir," replied Julian Peveril, who, feeling the necessity of saying something, could not, at the moment, find any thing more fitting to say. " Yes, sir, I thank you," said Major Bridgenorth, in the same cold sarcastic tone, '• for having shown me that breach of hospitality, infringement of good faith, and such like peccadillos. are not utterly foreign to the mind and conduct of the heir of a knightly house of twenty descents. It is a great lesson to me, sir ; for hitherto I had thought with the vulgar, that gentle manners went with gentle blood But perhaps courtesy is too chival- rous a quality to be wasted in intercourse with a round- headed fanatic like myself." " .Major Bridgenorth," said Julian, " whatever has happened in this interview which may have displeased you, has been the result of feelings suddenly and strong- ly animated -by the crisis of the moment — nothing was premeditated." '• Not even your meeting, 1 suppose?" replied Bridge- north, in the same cold tone. " You, sir, wandered hi- ther from Holm-Peel — my daughter strolled forth from the Black-Fort ; and chance, doubtless, assigned you a meeting by the stone of Goddard Crovan ? — Young .nan, disgrace yourself by no more apologies — they are worse than useless. — And you, maiden, who, in your fear of losing your lover, could verge on betraying what might halve cost a father his life — begone to your home. I will talk with you at more leisure, and teach you practically those duties which you ^eem to have forgotten." "On my honour, s , ' said Julian, "your daughter is guiltless of all that can offend you ; she resisted eve y of- fer which the headstrong violence of my passion urged me to press upon her." '• And, in brief," said Bridgenorth, " I am not to be- Vol. I. 20 " 230 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. lieve that you have met at this remote place of rendez- vous by Alice's special appointment?* 1 Pever'ri knew not what to reply, and Bridgenorth again signed with his hand to his daughter to withdraw " I obey you. father," said Alice, who had by this time recovered from the extremity of her surprise, — " I obey you; but heaven is my witness, that you do me more than injustice in suspecting me capable of betraying your secrets, even had it been necessary to save my own life, or that of Julian. That you are walking in a dangerous path I well know : but you do it with your eyes open, and are actuated by motives of which you can estimate the worth and value. My sole wish was, that this young man should not enter blindfold on the same perils ; and I had a right to warn him. since the feelings by which he is hood winked had a direct reference to me.'' " 'Tis well, minion," said Bridgenorth ; ; ' you have spoken your say. Retire, and let me complete the con- ference which you have so considerately commenced." " I go. sir,*' said Alice. — " Julian, to you my last words are, and I would speak them with my last breath, Farewell, and caution." She turned from them, disappeared among the under- wood, and was seen no more. " A true specimen of womankind," said her father, looking after her, " who would give the cause of nations up. rather than endanger a hair of her lover's head. — You, Master Peveril, doubtless, hold her opinion, that the best love is a safe love?" "Were danger alone in my way," said Peveril. much surprised at the softened tone in which Bridgenorth made this observation, " there are few things which 1 would not face to — to — deserve your good opinion." " Or rather to win my daughter's hand," said Bridge- north. " Well, young man, one thing has pleased me in your conduct, though of much I have my reasons to complain — one thing has pleased me. You have sur- mounted that bounding wall of aristocratical pride in which your father, and, I suppose, his fothers, remained imprisoned, as in the precincts of a feudal fortress — you have leaped over this barrier, and shown yourself not ^EYERIL OF THE PEAK. 231 unwilling to ally yourself with a family, whom your fa- ther spurns as low-born and ignoble." However favourably this speech sounded towards suc- cess in his suit, it so broadly stated the consequences of that success so- far as his parents were concerned, that Julian felt it in the last degree difficult to reply. At length, perceiving that IV|»jor Bridgenorth seemed re- solved quietly to await his answer, he mustered up cou- rage to say, " The feelings which I entertain towards your daughter, Master Bridge-north, arc of a nature to supersede many other considerations, to which, in any other case, I should feel it my duty to give the most reverential attention. I will not disguise from you, that my father's prejudices against such a match would be very strong ; but I devoutly believe they would disap- pear when he came to know the merit of Alice Bridge- north, and to be sensible that she only could make his son happy." " In the meanwhile, you are desirous to complete the union which you propose without the knowledge of your parents, and take the chance of their being hereafter re- conciled to it ? So I understand from the proposal which you made but lately to my daughter." The turns of human nature, and of human passion, are so irregular and uncertain, that although Julian had but a few minutes before urged to Alice a private mar- riage, and an elopement to the continent, as a measure upon which the whole happiness of his life depended, the proposal seemed not to him half so delightful when stat- ed by the calm, cold, dictatorial accents of her father.' It sounded no longer like the dictates of ardent passion, throwing all other considerations aside, but as a distinct surrender of the dignity of his house to one who seemed to consider their relative situation as the triumph of Bridgenorth over Peveril. He was mute for a moment, in the vain attempt to shape his answer so as at once to intimate acquiescence in what Bridgenorth stated, and a vindication of his own regard for his parents, and for the honour of his house. This delay gave rise to suspicion, and Bridgenorth's eve gleamed, and his lip quivered, while he gave vent to 232 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. it. " Hark ye, young man — deal openly with me in this matter, if you would not have me think you the execra- ble villain who would have seduced an unhappy girl, under promises which he never designed to fulfil. Let me but suspect this, and you shall see, on the spot, llow far your pride and your pe ligree will preserve you against the just vengeance of a father,"' " You do me wrong 1 ' said Peveril — " you do me in- finite wrong, Major Bridgenorth. I am incapable of the infamy which you allude to. The proposal I made to your daughter was as sincere as ever was offered by man to woman. I only hesitated, because you think it neces- sary to examine me so very closely ; and to possess your- self of all my purposes and sentiments, in their fullest extent, without explaining to me the tendency of your own." " Your proposal, then, shapes itself thus," said Bridge- north : '• You are willing tolead my only child into exile from her native country, to give her a claim to kindness and protection from your family, which you know will be disregarded, on condition 1 consent to bestow her hand on you, with a fortune sufficient to have matched that of your ancestors, when they had most reason to boast of their we »lth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet, 1 ' he continued, after a momentary pause, " so little do I value the goods of this world, that it might not be utterly beyond thy power to reconcile me to the match which you have proposed to me, however unequal it may appear." •■ Show me but the means which can propitiate your Hw>ur, Major Bridgenorth, " said Perveril, — a for F will not doubt that they will be consistent with^ny ho- nour and duty,— and you shall soon see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to you conditions'.'* " They are summed in tew words," answered Bridge- north. •' Be an honest man, and the friend of your country." " No one has ever doubled," replied Peveril, " that I urn both." • Pardon me," repb< d the Major; i{ no one has, as yet, seen you show youystdf either. Interrupt me noi*-^ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 233 I question not your will to be both ; but you have hither- to neither had the light nor the opportunity necessary for the display of your principles, or the service of your country. You have lived when an apathy of mind, suc- ceeding to the agitations of the Civil War, had made men indifferent to state affairs, and more willing to cul- tivate their own ease than to stand in the gap when the Lord was pleading with Israel. But we are English- men ; and with us such unnatural lethargy cannot con- tinue long. Already, many of those who most desired the return of Charles Stuart, regard him as a King whom Heaven, importuned* by our entreaties, gave to us in His anger. His unlimited license — an example so readi- ly followed by the young and the gay around him — has disgusted the minds of all sober and thinking men. I had not now held conference with you in this intimate fashion, were I not aware that you, Master Julian, were free from such stain of the times. Heaven, that rendered the King's course of license fruitful, hath denied issue to his bed of wedlock ; and in the gloomy and stern cha- racter of his bigoted successor, we already see what sort of monarch shall succeed to the crown of England. This is a critical period, at which it necessarily becomes the duty of all men to step forward, each in his degree, and aid in rescuing the country which gave us birth." Pe- veril remembered the warning which he had received from Alice, and bent his eyes on the ground, without re- turning any reply. " How is it, young man," continu- ed Bridgenorth, after a pause ; " so young as thou art. and bound by no ties of kindred profligacy with the ene- mies of your country, can you be already hardened to the claims she may form on you at this crisis V 14 It were easy to answer you generally. Major Bridge- north/' replied Peveril — " It were easy to say that my country cannot /nake a claim on me which 1 will not promptly answer at the risk of lands and life. But in dealing thus generally, we should but deceive each oth- er. What is the nature of this call? By whom is it to he sounded ? And what are to be the results ? for I think you fea.e already seen enough of the evils of civil war, to be 20* - 234 JPEVERIE OF THE PEAK, wary of again awakening its terrors in a peaceful and- bappy country. £k They that are drenched with poisonous narcotics," said the Major, " must be awakened by their physicians, though it were with the sound of the trumpet. Better that men should die bravely, with their arms in their hands, like free-born Englishmen, than that they should slide into the bloodless but dishonoured grave which slavery opens for its vassals — But it is not of war that I was about to speak," he added, assuming a milder tone. li The evils of which England now complains, are such as can be remedied by the wholesome administration of her own laws, even in the state in which they are still suffered to exist. Have these laws not a right to -the sup- port of every individual who lives under them? Have they not a right to yours ?" As he seemed to pause for an answer, Peveril replied, " I have to learn. Major Bridgenorth, how the laws of England have become so far weakened as to require such support as mine. When that is made plain to me, no man will more willingly discharge the duty of a faithful liegeman to the law as well as the King. But the laws of England are under the guardianship of upright and learned judges, and of a gracious monarch." ' ; And of a House of Com uons," interrupted Bridge- north, " no longer bloating upon restored monarchy, but awakened, as with a peal of thunder, to the perilous state of our religion, and of our freedom. I appeal to your own conscience, Julian Peveril, whether this awa- kening hath not been in time, since you yourself know ? aiid none better than you. the secret but rapid strides which Rome has made to erect her Dagon of idolatry within our Protestant land." Here Julian seeing, or thinking he saw, the drift of Bridgenorth s suspicions, hastened to exculpate himself from the suspicion of favouring the Roman* Catholic religion. " ft is true." he said, " I have been educated in a family where that faith is professed by one honoured individual, and that I have since travelled in popish itries ; but even for these very reasons, I have seen opery too closely to be friendly to its tenets. The ' X PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 13j bigotry of the laymen — the persevering arts of the priesthood — the perpetual intrigue for the extension of the forms without the spirit of religion — the usurpation of that church over the consciences of men — and her impious pretensions to infallibility, are as inconsistent wi my mind as they can seem in yours, with common sense, rational liberty, freedom of conscience, and pure reli- gion.' 7 " Spoken like the son of your excellent mother," said Bridgenorth, grasping- his hand ; '* for whose sake I have endured to suffer so much from your house unrequited, even when the means of requital were in my own hand." "It was indeed from the instructions of that excellent parent," said Peveril. •' that I was enabled, in my early youth, to resist and repel the insidious attacks made upon mv religious faith by the Catholic priests into whose company I was necessarily thrown. Like her, I trust to live and die in the faith of the reformed Church of England." '• The Church of England," said Bridcrenorth, drop- ping his young friend's hand, but presently resuming it: "Alas! that church, as now constituted, usurps scarcely less than Rome herself upon men's consciences and li- berties ; yet out of the weakness of tins half-reforn ed church, may God he pleased to work out deliverance to England, and praise to Himself. I must not forget, that one whose services have been in the cause incalculable, wears the garb of an English priest, and hath had Epis- copal ordination. It is not for us to challenge the in- strument, so that our escape is achieved 'from the ret of the fowler. Enough, that I find thee not as yet enlight- ened with the purer doctrine, but prepared to profi by it when the spark shall reach thee. Enough, in espe- cial, that I find thee willing to uplift thy testimony.^ to cry aloud and spare not against the errors and arts of the Church of Rome. But remember, what thou hast now said thou wilt soon be called upon to justify, in a manner the most solemn — the most awful." " V\ hat I have said," replied Julian Peveril, " being the' unbiassed sentiments of my heart, shall, upon no 236 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. proper occasion want the support of my open avowal ; an 1 I think it strange you should doubt me so far.'' " 1 doubt thee not, my young friend, ?' said Bridge- north ; " and I trust to see thy name rank high amongst those by whom the prey shall be rent from the mighty. At present, thy prejudices occupy thy mind like the strong keeper of the house mentioned in Scripture. But there shall come a stronger than he, and make forcible entry, displaying on the battlements that sign of faith in which alone there is found salvation. — Watch, hope, and pray, that the hour may come.'' There was a pause in the conversation, which was first broken by Peveril. " You have spoken to me in rid- dles, Major Bridgenorth; and I have asked you for no explanation. Listen to a caution on my part, given with the most sincere good will. Hear a hint of mine, and believe it, though it is darkly expressed. You are here — at least are believed to be here — on an errand dangerous to the Lord of the Island. That danger will be retorted on yourself, if you make Man long your place of residence. Be warned, and depart in time." " And leave my daughter to the guardianship of Ju- lian Peveril ? Runs not your counsel so, young man ?" answered Bridgenorth. " Trust my safety, Julian, to my own prudence. 1 hive been accustomed to guide myself through worse dangers than now environ me. But 1 thank you for your caution, which I am willing to believe was at least partly disinterested." " We do not, then, part in anger?" said Peveril. " Not in ang'er, my sou,'' said Bridgenorth, " but in love and strong affection. For my daughter, thou must forb Mr every thought of seeing her, save through me. I accept not thy suit,, neither do 1 reject it; only this I intimate to you, that tie who would be my son, must tirst show himself the true and loving child of his oppressed and deluded country. Farewell ; do not answer me now, thuu art yet in the gall of bitterness, and it may be that strife (which I desire not) should fall between us. Thou ^halt hear of me sooner than thou thinkest for." He shook Peveril heartily by the hand, and again bid him farewell, leaving him under the confused and min- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 23 A gled impression of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Not a little surprised to tind himself so far in the good graces of Alice's father, that his suit was even favoured with a sort of negative encouragement, he could not help sus- pecting, as wel| from the language of the daughter, as of the father, that Bridgenorth was desirous, as the price of his favour, he should adopt some line of conduct in- consistent with the principles in which he had been educated. '• You need not fear, Alice," he said in his heart ; " not even your hand would I purchase b* aught which resembled unworthy or truckling compliance with te- nets which my heart disowns ; and well I know, were I mean enough to do so, even the authority of thy father were insufficient to compel thee to the ratification of so mean a bargain. But let me hope better things. Bridge- north, though strdrig-minded and sagacious, is haunted by the fears of Popery, which are the bugbears of his sect. My residence in the family of the Countess of Derby, is more than enough to inspire him with suspi- cions of my faith, from which, thank heaven, I can vin- dicate myself with truth and ^.ood conscience." So thinking, he again adjusted the gir'hs of his palfrey, replaced the bit which he had slipped out of its mouth, that it might feed at liberty, and mounting, pursued his way back to the Castle of Holm-Peel, where he could not help fearing that something extraordinary might have happened in his absence. But the old pile soon rose before him, serene and sternly still, amid the sleeping ocean, The banner, which indicated that the Lord of Man held residence within its ruinous precincts, hung motionless by the en- sign-staff. The sentinels walked to and fro on their posts, and hummed or whistled their Manx airs. Leav- ing his faithful companion, Fairy, in the village as be- fore, Julian entered the Castle, and found at] within in the same st ite of quietness and good order which exter- nal appearances had announced. 238 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. CHAPTER XVII. 'Now rede me, rede me, brother dear. Throughout merry England, "Where will I fi id a messenger, Betwixt us two to send. Ballad of King Est mere. Julian's first rencounter, after re-entering the Cas- tle, was with its young Lord, who received him with hie usual kindness and lightness of humour. " Thrice welcome, Sir Knight of Dames," said the Earl ; u here you rove gallantly, and at free will, through our dominions, fulfilling of appointments, and achieving amorous adventures; while we are condemned to sit in our royal halls, as dull and immoveable as if our Majesty was carved on the stern of some Manx smuggling dog- ger, and christened the King Arthur of Ramsay,'' " Nay, in that case you would take the sea," said Ju- lian, " and so enjoy travel and adventure enough." " Oh, but suppose me wind-bound, or detained in harbour by a revenue pink, or ashore, if you like it, and lying high and dry upon the sand. Imagine the royal image in the dullest of all predicaments, and you have not equalled mine." " 1 am happy to hear, at least, that you have had no disagreeable e nployment," said Julian; *' the morning's alarm has blown over, I suppose ?" " In faith it has, Julian ; and our close inquiries can- not find any cause for the apprehended insurrection. — That Brid^enorth is in the island seems certain; but private affairs of consequence are alleged as the cause of his visit; and I am not desirous to have him arrested unless I could prove some mal-practices against him and his companions. In fact, it would stem we had taken the alarm too soon. My mother speaks of consulting you on the subject, Julian ; and I will not anticipate her PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 239 solemn communication. It will be partly apolegetical, I suppose; for we begin to think our retreat rather un- royal, and that, like the wicked, we have fled when no man pur-ued. This idea afflicts my mother, who, as a Queen-Dowager, a Queen- Regent, a heroine, and a wo- man in general, would be extremely mortified to think that her precipitate retreat hither had exposed her to the ridicule of 'lie islanders; and -he is disconcerted, a id out of humour, accordingly. In the meanwhile, my sole amusement has been the grimaces and fantastic gestures of that ape Fenella, who is more out of humour, and more absurd, in consequence, than you ever saw ru"r. Morris says, it is because you pushed her down stars. Julian — how is that ?" " Nay, Morris has misreported me, 5 ' answered Juli- an ; " I did but lift her up stairs to be rid of her impor- tunity ; for she chose, in her way, to contest my going abroad in such an obstinate manner, that I had no other mode of getting rid of her." " She must have supposed your departure, at a mo- ment so cruicai, was dangerons to the state of our g r- rison,'' answered the Earl ; " it shows how dearly she esteems my mother's safety, and how highly she rates your prowess. — But, thank Heaven, there sounds the dinner-bell. I would the philosophers, who hind a ?in and waste of time in good cheer, could devise us any pastime half so agreeable." The meal which the young Earl had thus longed for, as a means of ridding him tor a space of the time which hung heavy on his hands, was soon over ; as soon, at least, as the habitual and stately formality of the Countess's household permitted. She herself, ac- companied by her gentlewoman and attendants, retir- ed early after the tables were left to their own company* Wine had, for the moment, no charms for either; ior the Earl was out^ of spirits from ennui and impatience of his monotonous and solitary course of life ; and the events of the day had given Peveril too much mat- ter for reflection to permit his starting amusing or inter- esting topics of conversation. After having passed the flask in silence betwixt them once or twice, they with- 240 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. drew each into a separate embrazure of the window* of the dining apartment, which, such was the extreme thickness of the wall, were deep enough to afford a soli- tary recess, separated, as it were, from the chamber it- self. In one of these sate the Earl of Derby, busied in looking over some of the new publications which had been forwarded from London ; and at intervals confes- sing how little power or interest these had for him, by yawning fearfully as he looked out on the solitary ex- panse of waters, which, save for the flight of a flock of sea-gulls, or of a solitary cormorant, offered so little of variety to engage his attention. Peveril, on his part, held a pamphlet also in his hand, without giving, or affecting to give it, even his occasion- al attention. His whole soul turned upon the inter- view which he had that day with Alice Bridgenorth, and with her father ; while he in vain endeavoured to form an) hypothesis which could explain to him why the daughter, to whom he had no reason to think him- self indifferent, should have been so suddenly desirous of their eternal separation, while her father, whose op- position he so much dreaded, seemed to be at least tole- rant of his addresses. He could only suppose, in ex- planation, that Major Bridgenorth had some plan in prospect, which it was in his own power to further or impede ; while from the demeanour, and indeed the language of Alice, he had but too much reason to ap- prehend that her father's' favour could only be concilia- ted bv something, on his own part, approaching to de- reliction of principle. But by no conjecture which he could form, could he mike the least guess concerning the nature of that compliance of which Bridgenorth seemed desirous. He could not imagine, notwithstand- ing Alice had spoken of treachery, that her father would dare to propose to him uniting in any plan by which the safety of the Countess, or the security of her little kingdom of Man. was to be endangered. This carried such indelible disgrace in t\\e front, that he could not suppose the scheme proposed to by any who was not prepared to defend with his s?vord, upon the spot, a flagrant insult offered to his honour. And PEVERIL OR THE PEAK. 2.41 such a proceeding was totally inconsistent with the con- duct of M^jorBridgenorthin every other respect ; be- sides his being too calm and cool-blooded to permit of his putting a mortal affront upon the son of his old neigh- bour, to whose mother he confessed so much of obliga- tion While Peveril in vain endeavoured to extract some- thing like a probable theory out of the hints thrown out by the father and the daughter — not without the addi- tional and lover-like labour of endeavouring to recon- cile his passion to his honour and conscience — he felt something gently pull him by the cloak. He unclasped his arms, which, in meditation, had been folded on his bosom ; and withdrawing his eyes from the vacant pros- pect of sea-coast and sea which they had perused, with- out much consciousness upon what they rested, he be- held beside him the little dumb maiden, the elfin Fe- nella. She was seated on a low cushion or stool, with which she had nestled close to Peyeril's side, and had remained there for a short space of time, expecting, no doubt, he would become conscious of her presence ; un- til, tired of remaining unnoticed, she at length soliciiecl his attention in the manner which we have described. Startled out of his reverie by this intimation of her presence, he looked down, and could not. without inte- rest, behold this singular and helpless being. H$r hair was unloosened, and streamed over her shoul- ders in such length, that much of it lay upon the ground, and in such quantity, that it formed a dark veil, or sha- dow, not only round her face but over her whole slender and minute form. From the profusion of her tresses looked forth her small and dark, but well-formed fea- tures, together with the large and brilliant black eyes ; and her whole countenance was composed into the im- ploring look of one who is dubious of the reception she is about to meet with from a valued friend, while she confesses a fault pleads an apology, or solicits a recon- ciliation. In short, the whole face was so much alive with expression, that Julian, though her aspect was so familiar to him, could hardly persuade himself but what her eountenance was entirely new. The wild, fantastic, Vol. I. 21 242 PEVEE.IL OF THE PEAK, elvish vivacity of the features seemed totally vanished, and had given place to a sorrowful, tender, and pathetic cast of countenance, aided by the expression of the large dark eyes, which as they were turned up towards Julian, glistened with moisture, that, nevertheless, did not over- flow the eyelids. Conceiving that her unwonted manner arose from a recollection of the dispute which had taken place betwixt them this morning, Peveril was anxious to restore the little maiden's gaiety, by making her sensible that there dwelt on his mind no unpleasing recollection of their quarrel. He smiled kindly, and shook her hand in one of his ; while, with the familiarity of one who had known her from childhood, he stroked down her long dark tres- ses with the other. She stooped her head, as if asham- ed, and, at the same time, gratified with his caresses — and he was thus induced to continue them, until, under the veil of her rich and abundant locks he suddenly felt his other hand, which she still held fast in hers, slightly touched with her lips, and, at the same time, moistened with a tear. At once, and for the first time in his life, the danger of being misinterpreted in his familiarity with a creature to whom the usual modes of explanation were a blank, oc- curred to Julian's mind ; and hastily withdrawing his hand, and phangmg his posture, he asked of her, by a sign which custom had rendered familiar, whether she brought any message to him from the Countess. In an instant Fenella , s whole deportment was changed. She started up, and arranged herself in her seat with the ra- pidity of lightning ; and at the same moment, with one turn of her hand, braided her length of locks into a na- tural head-dress of the most beautiful kind. There was, indeed, when she looked up. a blush still visible on her dark features ; but their melancholy and languid expres- sion had given place to that of wild and unsettled viva- city, which was most common to them. Her eyes glanced with more than their wonted fire, and her glances were more piercingly wild and unsettled than usual. To Ju- lian's inquiry, she answered, by laying her hand on her heart — a motion by which she alwavs indicated the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 243 Countess — and rising, and taking the direction of her apartment, she made a sign to Julian to follow her. The distance was not great betwixt the dining apart- ment and that to which Peveril now followed his mute guide ; yet, in going thither, he had time enough to suf- fer cruelly fro n the sudden suspicion that this unhappy girl had misinterpreted the uniform kindness with which he had treated her. and hence come to regard him with feelings more tender than those which belong to friend- ship. The misery which such a passion was like to oc- casion to a creature in her helpless situation, and actuat- ed by such lively feelings, was great enough to make him refuse credit to the suspicion which pressed itself upon his mind ; while, at the same time, he formed the internal resolution so to conduct himself towards Fenel- la, as to check such misplaced sentiments, if indeed she unhappily entertained them towards him. When they reached the C >untess's apartment, they found her with writing implements, and many sealed let- ters, before her. She received Julian with her usual kindness ; and having caused him to be seated, beckoned to the mute to resume her needle. In an instant Fenella was seated at an embroidering-frame ; where, but for the movement of her dexterous fingers, she might have seem- ed a statue, so little did she move from her work, either head or eye. As her infirmity rendered her presence no bar to the most confidential conversation, the Countess proceeded to address Peveril as if they had bee,n literally alone together. ''Julian, 1 ' she said. "I am not now about to complain to you of the sentiments and conduct of Derby. He is your friend — he is my son. He has kindness of heart, and vivacity of talent; and yet " *? Dearest lady,'' said Peveril. " why will you distress yourself with fixing your eye on deficiencies which arise rather from a change of times and manners, than any de- generacy of my noble friend? Let him be once engaged in his duty, whether in peace or war, and let me pay the penalty if he acquits not himself becoming his high sta- tion." " Ay," replied the Countess ; " but when will the call of duty prove superior to that of the most idle or trivial 244 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* indulgence which can serve to drive over the lazy hour f His father was of another mould ; and how often was it my lot to entreat that he would spare, from the rigid dis- charge of those duties which his high station imposed, the relaxation necessary to recruit his health and his spi- rits. " " Still, my dearest lady," said Peveril, " you must al- low that the duties to which the times summoned your late honoured lord, were of a more stirring, as well as a more peremptory cast, than those which await your son." •'I know not that," said the Countess. " The wheel appears to be again revolving; and the present period is not unlikely to bring back such scenes as my younger years witnessed. - Well, be it so ; they will not find Charlotte de la Tremouille broken in spirit, though de- pressed by years. It was even on this subject I would speak with you, my young friend. Since our first early acquaintance — when I saw your gallant behaviour as I issued forth to your childish eye like an apparition, from my place of concealment in your father's castle — it has pleased me to think you a true son of Stanley and Peve- ril. I trust your nurture in this family has been ever suited to the esteem in which I hold you Nay, I desire no thanks — I have to require of you. in return, a piece of service, not perhaps entirely safe to yourself, but which, as times are circumstanced, no person is so well able to render to my house." " You have been ever my good and noble lady," an- swered Peveril, •' as well as my kind, and 1 may say ma- ternal, protectress. You have a right to command the blood of Stanley in the veins of every one — you have a thousand rights to command it in mine." "My advices from England," said the Countess, " re- semble more the dreams of a sick man. than the regular information which I might have expected from such cor- respondents as mine; — their expressions are like those of men who walk in their sleep, and speak by snatches of what passes in their dreams. It is said, a plot, real or fictitious, has been detected amongst the Catholics, which has spread far wider, and more uncontrollable terror, than that of the fifth of November. Its outlines seem PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 2A5 utterly incredible, and are only supported by the evidence of wretches, the meanest and most worthless in the crea- tion ; yet it is received by the credulous people of Eng- land with the most undoubting credulity." "This is a singular delusion, to rise without some real ground, ,? answered Julian. " I am no bigot, cousin, though a Catholic," replied the Countess. " I have long feared that the well-meant zeal of our priests for increasing converts, would draw on them the suspicion of the English nation. These efforts have been renewed with double energy since the Duke of York conformed to the Catholic faith ; and the same event has doubled the hate and jealousy of the Protes- tants. So far, I fear, there may be just cause for suspi- cion, that the Duke is a better Catholic than an English- man, and that bigotry has involved him, as avarice, or the needy greed of a prodigal, has engaged his brother, in relations with France, whereof England may have too much reason to complain. But the gross, thick, and palpable falsehoods of conspiracy and murder, blood and fire — the imaginary armies — the intended massacres — from a collection of falsehoods, that one would have thought indigestible, even by the coarse appetite of the vulgar for the marvellous and horrible : but which are nevertheless, received as truth bv both Houses of Parliament, and questioned by no one who is desirous to escape the odious appellation of friend to the bloody Papists, and favourer of their infernal schemes of cruelty. " " But what say those who are most likely to be affec- ted by these wild reports?" said Julian. " What says the English Catholics themselves ? — a numerous and wealthy body, comprising so many noble names V " Their hearts are dead within them," said the Coun- tess. " They are like sheep penned up in the sham- bles, that the butcher may take his choice among them. In the obscure and brief communications which I have had by a secure hand, they do but anticipate their own utter ruin, and ours — so general is the depression, so universal the despair." 246 PEVERIL OR THE PEAK. ""But the King," said Peveril, — " the King and the Protestant royalists — what say they to this growing tempest?" " Charles," replied the Countess, " with his usual selfish prudence, truckles to the storm ; and will let cord and axe do their work on the most innocent men in his dominions, rather than lose an hour of pleasure in attempting their rescue. And, for the royalists, ei- ther they have caught the general delirium which has seized on Protestants in general, or they stand aloof and neutral, afraid to sh> w any interest in the unhappy Catholics, lest they be judged altogether such as them- selves, and abettors of the fearful conspiracy in which they are alleged to be engaged. In fact, I cannot blame them. It is hard tu expect that mere compas- sion for a persecuted sect — or, what is yet more rare, an abstract love of justice — should be powerful enough to engage men to expose themselves to the awakened fury of a whole people ; for, in the present state of agi- tation, whoever disbelieves the least tittle of the enor- mous improbabilities which have been accumulated by these wretched informers, is instantly hunted down, as one who would smother the discovery of the plot. It is indeed an awful tempest ; and remote as we lie from its sphere, we must expect soon to feel its effects.' 5 " Lord Derby already told me something of this,'- said Julian ; " and that there were agents in this island whose object was to excite insurrection." " Yes," answered the Countess, and her eye flashed fire as she spoke ; " and had my advice been listened to, they had have been apprehended in the very fact: and so> dealt with, as to be a warning to all others how they sought this independent principality on such an er- rand. But my sou, who is generally so culpably neg- ligent of his own affairs, was pleased to assume the management of them upon this crisis." " I am happy to learn, madam," answered Peveril, - that the measures of precaution which my kinsman nas adopted, have had the complete effect of disconcer- iing the conspiracy." « For the present, Julian : but they should haye PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 247 been such as would have made the boldest tremble, to think of such infringement on our rights in future. But Derby's present plan is fraught with greater danger ; and yet there is something of gallantry, which has my sympathy.' 7 "What is it, madam?" inquired Julian, anxiously; "and in what can I aid it, or avert its dangers?" " He purposes," said the Countess, " instantly to set forth for London. He is, he says, not merely the feudal chief of a small island, but one of the noble Peers of England, who must not reuiain in the security of an ob- scure and distant castle, when his name, or that of his mother, is slandered before his Prinre and people. He will take his place, he sass, in the House of Lords, and publicly demand justice for the insult thrown on his house, by perjured and interested witnesses." " It is a generous resolution, and worthy of my friend," said Julian Peveril. k ' 1 will go with him, and share his fate, be it what it may." " Alas, foolish boy ?" answered the Countess, " as well may you ask a hungry lion to feel compassion, as a prejudiced and furious people to do justice. They are like the madman at the height of frenzy, who murders without compunction his best and dearest friend ; and only wonders and wails over his own cruelty, when he is recovered from his delirium." " Pardon me, dearest lady," said Julian, " this can not be. The noble and generous people of England cannot be thus strangely misled. Whatever preposses- sions may be current among the more vulgar, the Hou- ses of Legislature cannot be deeply infected by them — they will remember their own dignity.'' " Alas, cousin." answered the Countess, " when did Englishmen, even of the highest degree, remember any thing, when hurried away by the violence of party feel- ing ? Even those who have too much sense to believe in the incredible fictions which gull the multitude, will beware how they expose them, if their own political par- ty can gain a momentary advantage by their being ac- credited. It is amongst such, too, that your kinsman has found friends and associates, Neglecting the old 248 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. friends of his house, as too grave and formal companions for the humour of the times, his intercourse has been with the versatile Shaftesbury — the mercurial Bucking- ham — men who would not hesitate to sacrifice to the popular Moloch of the day, whatsoever, or whomsoev- er — whose ruin could propitiate the deity. Forgive a mother's tears, kinsman ; but I see the scaffold at Bol- ton again erected. If Derby goes to London while these blood-hounds are in full cry, obnoxious as he is, and as I have made him by my religious faith, and my conduct in this island, he dies his father's death. And yet upon what other course to resolve ! — " " Let me go to London, madam,'' said Peveril, much moved by the distress of his patroness ; " your ladyship was wont to rely something on my judgment. I will act for the best — will communicate with those whom you point out to me, and only with them ; and I trust soon to send you information that this delusion, however strong it may now be. is in the course of passing away; at worst, I can apprize you of the danger, should it menace the Earl or yourself; and may be able also to point out the means by which it may be eluded." The Countess listened with a countenance in which the anxiety of maternal affection, which prompted her to embrace Peveril's generous offer, struggled with her na- tive disimerested and generous disposition. " Think what you ask of me, Julian,'' she replied, with a sigh. ,; Would you have me expose the life of my friend's son to those perils to which I refuse my own ? — No, ne- ver." " Nay, but, madam," replied Julian, " I do not run the same risk — my person is not known in London—my situation, though not obscure in my own country, is too little known to be noticed in that huge assemblage of all that is noble and wealthy. No whisper, I presume, how- ever indirect, has connected my name with the alleged conspiracy. 1 am a Protestant, above all ; and can be accused of no intercourse, direct or indirect, with the Church of Rome. My connexions, alas, lie amongst those who, if they do not, or can not, befriend me, can not at least be dangerous to me. In a word, I run no daiL- ger, where the Earl might incur great peril.'' PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 249 I* Alas !'' said the Countess of Derby, " all this gener- ous reasoning may be true ; but it could only be listened to by a widowed mother. Selfish as I am, I cannot but reflect that my kinswoman has, in all events, the support of an affectionate husband — such is the interested rea- soning to which we are not ashamed to subject our better feelings." *• Do not call it so, madam,' 1 answered Peveril ; " think of me but as the younger brother of my kinsman. You have ever done by me the duties of a mother; and have a right to my filial service, were it at a risk ten times greater than a journey to London, to inquire into the temper of uhe times. I will instantly go, and an- nounce my departure to the Earl." 'Stay, Julian" said the Countess ; " if you must make this journey in our behalf, — and. alas, 1 have not generosity enough to refuse your noble proffer. — you must go alone, and without communication with Derby. I know him well ; his lightness of mind is free from sel- fish baseness ; and for the world, he would not suffer, you to leave Man without his company. And if he went with you. your noble and disinterested kindness would be of no avail — you would but share his ruin, as the swimmer who attempts to save a drowning man is involv- ed in his fate, if he permit the sufferer to grapple with him." u It shall be as you please, madam." said Peveril. u I am ready to depart upon half an hour's notice." a This night, then," said the Countess, after a mo ment's pause — " this night I will arrange the most se- cret means of carrying your generous project into ef- fect ; for I would not excite that prejudice against you, which will instantly arise, were it known you had so lately left this island, and its Popish lady. You will do well, perhaps, to use a feigned name in London." •'Pardon me, madam," said Julian; "1 will do no- thing that can draw on me unnecessary attention ; but to bear a feigned name, or effect any disguise beyond living with extreme privacy, would, I think, be unwise as well as unworthy ; and what, if challenged, I might 250 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. find some difficulty in assigning a reason for, consisteni with perfect fairness of intentions." " I believe you are right," answered the Countess, after a moment's consideration ; and then added, " You propose, doubtless, to pass through Derbyshire ; and vi- sit Martindaie Castle ?" " I should wish it, madam, certainly," replied Peve- ril, " did time permit, and circumstances render it ad- visable." " Of that,'' said the Countess, " you must yourself judge. Despatch is, doubtless, desirable ; on the other hand, arriving from your own family-seat, you will be less an object of douht and suspicion, than if you post- ed up from hence, without even visiting your parents. You must be guided in this — in all — by your own pru- dence. Go, my dearest son ; for to me you should be dear as a son — go, and prepare for your journey. I will get ready some despatches, and a supply of money — Nay, do not object. Am I not your mother ; and are you not discharging a son's duty ? Dispute not my right of defraying your expenses. Nor is this all ; for as I must trust your zeal and prudence to act in our behalf when occasion shall demand, I will furnish you with ef- fectual recommendations to our friends and kindred, en- treating and enjoining them to render whatever aid you may require, either for your own protection, or the ad- vancement of what you may propose in our favour." Peveril made no farther opposition to an arrange- ment, which in truth the moderate state of his own finan- ces rendered almost indispensable, unless with his fa- ther's assistance ; and the Countess put into his hand bills of exchange, to the amount of two hundred pounds, upon a merchant in the city. She then dismissed Ju- lian for the space of an hour ; after which, she said, she must again require his presence. The preparations for his journey were not of a nature to divert the thoughts which speedily pressed on him. He found that half an hour's conversation had once more completely changed his immediate prospects and plans for the future. He had offered to the Countess of Derbv a service which her uniform kindness had well PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 251 deserved at his hand ; but, by her accepting it, he was upon the point of being separated from Alice Bridge- north, at a time when she was become dearer to him than ever, by her avowal of mutual passion. Her image rose before him, such as he had that day pressed her to his bosom — her voice was in his ear, and he seemed to ask whether he could desert her in the crisis which eve- ry thing seemed to announce as impending. But Julian Peveril, his youth considered, was strict in judging his duty, and severely resolved in executing it. He trusted not his imagination to pursue the vision which presented itself; but resolutely seizing his pen, wrote to Alice the following letter, explaining his situation, as far as jus- tice to the Countess permitting him to do so : — " I leave you, dearest Alice," thus ran the letter, " I leave you ; and though, in doing so, I but obey the com- mand you have laid on me, yet I can claim little merit for my compliance, since, without additional and most forcible reasons in aid of your orders, I fear I should have been unable to comply with them. But family af- fairs of importance compelled me to absent myself from this island, for I fear, more than one week. My thoughts, hopes, and wishes, will be on the moment that will restore me to the Black-Fort, and its lovely valley. Let me hope that yours will sometimes rest on the lonely exile, whom nothing could render such, but the command of honour and duty. Do not fear that I mean to iuvolve you in private correspondence, and let not your father fear it. I could not love you so much, but for the openness and candour of your nature ; and I would not that you c< nc^aled from Major Bridgenorth one syllable of what 1 now avow. Respecting other matters, he himself cannot desire the welfare of our common country with more zeal than I do. Differen- ces may occur concerning the mode in which that is to be obtained ; but, in thu principle, I am convinced there can be only one niind between us ; nor can I refuse to listen to his experience and wisdom, even where they may ultimately fail to convince me. Farewell — Alice, farewell ! Much might be added to that melancholy word, 'but nothing that could express the bitterness with 252 PEVRILE OF THE PEAK. which it is written. Yet I could transcribe it again and again, rather than conclude the last communication which I can have with you for some time. My sole comfort is, that my stay will scarce be so long as to per- mit you to forget one who never can forget you." He held the paper in his hand for a minute after he had folded, but before he had sealed it, while he hurri- edly debated in his own mind whether he had not ex- pressed himself towards Major Bridgenoith in so conci- liating a manner as might excite hopes of proselytism, which his conscience told him he could not realize with honour. Yet, on the other hand, he had no ri^ht from, what Bridgeworth had said, to conclude that their prin- ciples were diametrically irreconcileable ; for though the son of a high cavalier, and educated in the family of the Countess of Derby, he was himself, upon principle, an enemy of prerogative, and a friend to the liberty of the subject. And with such considerations he silenced all internal objections on the point of honour; although his conscience secretly whispered that these conciliatory expressions towards the father were chiefly dictated by the fear, that, during his absence, Major Bridgenorth might be tempted to change the residence of his daugh- ter, and perhaps to convey her altogether out of his reach. Having sealed his letter, Julian called his servant, and directed him to carry it, under cover of one addressed to Mrs. Debbitch, to a house in the town of Rushein, where packets and messages intended for the family at Black-Fort were usually deposited ; and for that pur- pose to take horse immediately. He thus got rid of an attendant, who might have been in some degree a spy on his motions. He then exchanged the dress he usual- ly wore, for one more suited to travelling; and having put a change or two of linen into a small cloak-bag, se- lected as arms a strong double-ed^ed sword and an ex- cellent pair of pistols, which last he carefully loaded with double bullets. Thus appointed, and with twenty pieces in his purse, and the bills we have mentioned se- cured in a private pocket-book, he was in readiness to FETER1L OF THE PEAR. 253 depart so soon as he should receive the Countess's com- mands. The buoyant spirit of youth and hope, which had, for a moment, been chilled by the painful and dubious cir- cumstances in which he was placed, as weli as the de- privation which he was about to undergo, now revived in full vigour. Fancy, turning from more painful an- ticipations, suggested to him that he was now entering upon life, at a crisis when resolution and talents were almost certain to make the fortune of their possessor. — How could he make a more honourable entry on the bust- ling scene, than when sent by, and acting in behalf of, one of the noblest houses in England; and should he perform what his charge might render incumbent, with the reso- lution and the prudence necessary to secure success, how many occurrences might take place to render his mediation necessary to Bridgenorth ; and thus enabled him. on the most equal and honourable terms, to estab- lish a claim to his gratitude and to his daughter's hand. Whilst he was dwelling on such pleasing, though ima- ginary prospects, he could not help exclaiming aloud — " Yes, Alice, I will win thee nobly !'' The words had scarce escaped his lips when he heard at the door of his apartment, which the servant had left ajar, a sound like a deep sigh, which was instantly succeeded by a gentle tap — " Come in," replied Julian, somewhat ashamed of his exclamation, and not a little afraid that it had been caught by some eves-dropper. — " Come in," he again repeated; but his command was not yet obeyed, on the contrary the knock was repeated somewhat louder. He opened the door, and Fenella stood before him. With eyes that seemed red with recent tears, and with a look of the deepest dejection, the little mute, first touch- ing her bosom, and beckoning with her finger, made to him the usual sign that the Countess desired to see him, — then turned as if to usher him to her apartment. As he followed her through the long gloomy vaulted passages which afforded communication betwixt the various apart- mants of the castle, he could not but observe that her usual light trip was exchanged for a tardy and mournful step, which she accompanied with low inarticulate moao- Vol. I. 22 254 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ing (which she was probably the less able to suppress-, because she could not judge how far it was audible,) and also with wringing of the hands, and other marks of extreme affliction. At this moment a thought came across Feveril's mind, which, in spite of his better reason, made him shudder involuntarily. As a Peaksman, and a long resident in the Isle of Man, he was well acquainted with many a superstitious legend, and particularly with a belief, which attached to the powerful family of the Stanleys, for their peculiar demon, a Ban-shie, or female spirit, who was wont to shriek, " forboding evil times;'' and who was generally seen weeping and bemoaning herself before the death of any person of distinction belonging to the family. For an instant, Julian could scarce divest him- self of the belief that the wailing, gibbering form which glided before him, with a lamp in her hand, was t'ie ge- nius of his mother's race come to announce to him his predestined doom. It instantly occurred to him, as an analagous reflection, that if the suspicion which had crossed his mind concerning Fenella was a just one, her ill-fated attachment to him, like that of the prophetic spirit to his family, could bode nothing but disaster, and lamentation, and woe. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 265 CHAPTER XVIII. i\ T ow hoist th anchor, mates — and lot the sails Give their broad bosom to the buxom wind, Like a lass that wooes a lover. Anonymous. The presence of the Countess dispelled the supersti- tious feeling, which, for an~ instant, had encroached on Julian's imagination, and compelled him to give atten- tion to the matters of ordinary life. " Here are your credentials,' 1 she said, giving him a small packet care- fully put up in a seal-skin cover ; " you had better not open them till you come to London. You must not be surprised to find that there are one or two addressed to men of my own persuasion. These, for all our sakes, you will observe caution in delivering. " I go your messenger, madam," said Peveril ; " and whatever you desire me to charge myself with, of that I undertake the care. Yet allow me to doubt whether an intercourse with Catholic* will at this moment forward the purposes of my mission.'' "You have caught the general suspicion of this wick- ed sect already," said the Countess, smiling, " and are the fitter to go amongst Englishmen in their present mood. But, my cautious friend, these letters are so ad- dressed, and the persons to whom they are addressed so disguised, that you will run no danger in conversing with them. Without their aid. indeed, you will not be able to obtain the accurate information you go to seek. None can tell so exactly how the wind sets, as the pilot whose vessel is exposed to the storm. Besides, though you Protestants deny our priesthood the harmlessness of the dove, you are ready enough to allow us a full share ol the wisdom of the serpent; — in plain terms, their mean> of information are extensive, and they are not deficient in the power of applying it. I therefore wish you to have the benefit of their intelligence and advice, if pos- sible." " Whatever you impose on me as a part of my duty, madam, rely on its being discharged punctually," an- swered Peveril. " And now, as there is little use in de- ferring execution of a purpose when once fixed, let me ^56 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. know your ladyship's wishes concerning my departure." — " It must be sudden and secret," said the Countess ; " the island is full of spies; and I would not wish that any of them should have notice that an envoy of mine was about to leave Man for London. — Can you be ready- to go on board to-morrow ?" " To-night —this instant if you will," said Julian, — " my little preparations are complete." " Be ready, then, in your chamber, at two hours after midnight. 1 will send one to summon you, for our se- cret must be communicated, for the present, to as few as possible. A foreign sloop is engaged to carry you over ; then make the best of your way to London, by Martin- dale Castle or otherwise, as you find most advisable. — When it is necessary to announce your absence, I will say you are gone to see your parents. But stay — your journey will be on horseback, of course, from White- haven. You have bills of exchange, it is true; but are you provided with ready money to furnish yourself with a fon^ lio^c-o ?" 'I am sufficiently rich, madam," answered Julian; ' ; and good nags are plenty in Cumberland. There are those among them who know how to come by them good and cheap." " Trust not to that," said the Countess. " Here is what will purchase for you the best horse on the Bor- ders. — Can you be simple enough to refuse it?" she add- ded, as she pressed on him a heavy purse, which he saw himself obliged to accept. " A good horse, Julian," said the Countess, " and a •good sword, next to a good heart and head are the ac- complishments of a cavalier." " I kiss your hands, then, madam," saidPeveril, "and humbly beg you to believe, that whatever may fail in my present undertaking, my purpose to serve you, my no- ble kinswoman and benefactress, can at least never swerve or falter." " I know it, my son, I know it ; and may God for- give me if my anxiety for your friend has sent you on dangers which should have been his. Go — go — May saints and angels bless you. Fenella shall acquaint him that you sup in your , own apartment. So indeed PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 2&7 will I ; for to-night I shall be unable to face my son's looks. Little will lie thank me sending you on his er- rand ; and there will be many to ask whether it was like the Lady of Latham to thrust her friend's son on the danger which should have been found by her own. But O, Julian, I am now a forlorn widow, whom sorrow has made selfish." k * Tush, madam," answered Peveril ; u it is more un- like the Lady of Latham to anticipate dangers which may not exist at all, and to which, if they do indeed oc- cur, I am less obnoxious than my noble kinsman. Fare- well ! All blessings attend you, madam. Commend me to Derby, and make him my excuses. I will expect a summons at two hours after midnight." They took an affectionate leave of each other; the more affectionate, indeed, on the part of the Countess, that she could not entirely reconcile her generous mind to exposing Peveril to danger on her son's behalf; and Julian betook himself to his solitary apartment. His servant soon afterwards brought him wine and re- freshments; to which, notwithstanding the various mat- ters he had to occupy his mind, he contrived to do rea- sonable justice. But when this needful occupation was finished, his thoughts began to stream in upon him like a troubled tide — recalling at once the past, and anticipa- ting the future. It was in vain that he wrapped himself in his riding cloak, and, lying down on his bed, endea- voured to compose himself to sleep. The uncertainty of the prospect before him — the doubt how Bridgenorth might dispose of his daughter during his absence — the fear that the Major himself might fall into the power of the vindictive Countess, besides a numerous train of vague and half-formed apprehensions, agitated his blood, and rendered slumber impossible. Alternately to re- cline in the old oaken easy chair, and listen to the dash- ing of the waves under the windows, mingled, as the sound was, wilh'lhe scream of the sea-birds ; or to tra- verse the apartment with long and slow steps, pausing occasionally to look out on the sea, slumbering under the influence of a full moon which tipped each wave with silver — such were the only pastimes he could in- *22 158 PKVERIL OF THE PEAK, vent, until midnight had past for one hour, when the next was wasted in anxious expectation of the summons of departure. At length it arrived — a tap at his door was followed by a low murmur, which made him suspect that the Countess had again employed her mute attendant as the most secure minister of her pleasure on this occasion. He felt something like impropriety in this selection; and it was with a feeling of impatience alien to the na- tural generosity of his temper, that, when he opened the door, he beheld the dumb maiden standing before him. The lamp which he held in his hand showed his features distinctly, and probably made Fenella aware of the ex- pression which animated them. She cast her large dark eyes mournfully on the ground; and without again look- ing him in the face, made him a signal to follow her. He delayed no longer than was necessary to secure his pistols in his belt, wrap his cloak closer around him, and and take his small portmantle under his arm. Thus ac- coutred, he followed her out of the Keep, or inhabited part of the Castle, by a series of obscure passages lead- ing to a postern gate, which she unlocked with a key, selecled from a bundle which she carried at her girdle. They now stood in the castle-yard, in the open moon- light, which glimmered white and ghastly on the variety of strange and ruinous objects to which we have former- ly alluded, and which gave the scene rather the appear- ance of some ancient cemetery, than of the interior of a fortification. The round and elevated tower — the an- cient mount, with its quadrangular sides facing the ruin- ous edifices which once boasted the name of Cathedral — seemed of more antique and anomalous form, when seen by the pale light which now displayed them. To one of those churches Fenella took the direct course, and was followed by Julian, although he at once divined, and was superstitious enough to dislike, the path she was about to adopt, it was by a secret passage through this church, ihat in former times the guard-room of the garrison, si- tuated at the lower and external defences, communicated with the Keep of the Castle ; and through this passage were the keys of the Castle every night carried to the Governor's apartment, so soon as the gates were lock- yEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 259 ed, and the watch set. The custom was given up iu James the First's time, and the passage abandoned, on account of the well-known legend of the Manthe Dog — a fiend, or demon, in the shape of a large, shaggy, black mastiff, by which the church was haunted. It was devoutly believed, that in former times this spectre be- came so familiar with mankind, as to appear almost nightly in the guard-room, issuing from the passage which we have mentioned at night, and retiring to it at daybreak. The soldiers became partly familiarized to its presence; yet not so much so as to u>e a-«y license of language while the apparition was visible ; until one fel- low, rendered daring by intoxication, swore he would know whether it was dog or devil, and with his drawn sword, followed the spectre when it retreated by the usual passage. The man returned in a few minute«, sobered by terror, his mouth gaping, and his hair stand* ing on end ; but, unhappily for the lovers of the marvel- lous, altogether unable to 'isclose the horrors which he had seen. Under the evil repute arising from this title of wonder, the guard- room was abandoned, and a new one constructed. In like manner, the guards after that period held another and more circuitous communication with the Governor or Seneschal of the Castle ; and that which lay through the ruinous church was entirely aban- doned. In defiance of the legendary terrors which tradition had attached to the original communication, Fen< 11a, followed by Peveril, now boldly traversed the ruinous vaults through which it lay — sometimes only guided over heaps of ruins by the precarious light of the lamp borne by the dumb maiden — sometimes having the advantage of a gleam of moonlight, darting into the dreary abyss through the shafted windows, or through breaches made by time. As ihe path was by no means a straight one, Peveril could not but admire the intimate acquaintance with the mazes which his singular companion displayed, as well as the boldness with which she traversed them, He himself was not so utterly void of the prejudices of the times, but what he contemplated, with some appre- hension, the possibility of intruding on the lair of the phantom-hound, of whom he had heard so often ; and in &G0 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. every remote sigh of the breeze among the ruins, he thought he heard him baying at the mortal footsteps which disturbed his gloomy realm. No such terrors, however, interrupted their journey ; and in the course of a few minutes, they attained the deserted and now ruin- ous guard-house. The broken walls of the little edifice served to conceal them from the sentinels, one of whom was keeping a drowsy watch at the lower gate of the Castle ; whilst another, seated on the stone steps which commuuteated with the parapet of the bounding and exterior wall, was slumbering, in full security, with his musket peacefully grounded by his side. Fenella made a sign to Peveril to move with silence and caution, and then showed him, to his surprise, from the window of the deserted guard-room, a boat, for it was now high water y with four rowers, lurking under the cliff on which the Castle was built ; and made him farther sensible, that he was to have access to it by a ladder of considerable height placed at the window of the ruin. Julian was both displeased and alarmed by the security and carelessness of the sentinels, who had suffered such preparations to be made without observation or alarm given ; and he hesitated whether he should not call the officer of the guard, upbraid him with negligence, and show him how easily Holm-Peel, in spite of its natural strength, and although reported impregnable, might be surprised by a few resolute men. Fenella seemed to guess his thoughts with that extreme acuteness of observation which her deprivations had occasioned her acquiring. She laid one hand on his arm, and a finger of the other on her own lips, as if to enjoin forbearance; and Julian, knowing that she acted by the direct authority of the Countess, obeyed her accordingly ; but with the internal resolution to lose no time in communicating his senti- ments to the Earl, concerning the danger to which the Castle was exposed on this point. In the mean time he descended the ladder with some precaution, for the steps were unequal, broken, wet. and slippery; and having placed himself in the stern of the boat, made a ignal to the men to push off, and turned to tike farewell of his guide. To his utter astonishment, Fenella rather slid down, than descended regularly, the PRVERIL OF THE PEAK. 261 perilous ladder ; and the boat being already pushed off, made a spring from the last step of it with incredible agility, and seated herself beside Peveril, ere he could e - press either remonstrance or surprise. He commanded the men once more to pull in to the precarious landing- place ; and throwing into his countenance a part of the displeasure which he really felt, endeavoured to make her comprehend the necessity of returning to her niistress. Fe- nella folded her arms, and looked at him with a haughty smile, which completely expressed the determination of her purpose. Peveril was extremely embarrassed ; he was afraid of offending the Countess, and interfering with her plan by giving alarm, which otherwise he was much tempted to have done. On Fenella, it was evident no species of argument which he could employ was like to make the least impression ; and the question remained, how if she went on with him, he was to rid himself of so singular and inconvenient a companion, and provide, at the same time, sufficiently for 1 er personal security. The boatmen brought th* nyatter to a decision: for, after laying on their oars for a minute, whispering among themselves in Low Dutch or German, they began to pull stoutly, and were soon at some distance from the Castle. The possibility of the sentinels sending a musket-ball, or even a cannon-shot, after them, was one of the contingen- cies, which gave Peveril momentary anxiety ; but they left the fortress, as they must have approached it, un- noticed, or at least unchallenged — a carelessness on the part of the garrison, which, notwithstanding that the oars were muffled, and that the men spoke little, and in whis- pers, argued, in Peveril's opinion, great negligence on the part of the sentinels. When they were a little way from the Castle, the men began to row briskly towards a small vessel which lay at some distance. Peveril had, in the meantime, leisure to remark, that the boatmen spoke to each other doubtfully, and bent anxious looks on Fe- nella. as if doubtful whether they had acted properly in bringing her off. After about a quarter of an hour's rowing, they reach- ed the little sloop, where Peveril was received by the skipper, or captain, on the quarter-deck, with offer ol spirits or refreshment A word or two amoug the sea- 262 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. men withdrew the captain from his hospitable cares, and he flew to the ship's side, apparently to prevent Fenella from entering the vessel. The men and he talked eager- ly in Dutch, looking anxiously at Fenella as they spoke together; and Peveril hoped the result would be, that the poor young woman should be sent ashore again. But she baffled whatever opposition could be opposed to her; and when the accommodation-ladder, as it is called, was withdrawn, snatched the end of a rope, and climbed on board with the dexterity of a sailor, leaviug them no means of preventing her entrance, save by actual vio- lence, to which apparently they did not choose to have recourse. Once on deck, she took the captain by the sleeve, and led him to the head of the vessel, where they seemed to hold intercourse in manner intelligible to both, Peveril soon forgot the presence of the mute, as he began to muse upon bis own situation, and the probabil- ity that he was separated for some considerable time from the object of his affections. " Constancy," he re- peated to himself. — " C" nu i™C".' : And, as if in cot!** cidence with the theme of his reflections, he fixed his eyes on the polar star, which that night twinkled with more than ordinary brilliancy. Emblem of pure passion and steady purpose — the thoughts which arose as he viewed its clear and unchanging light, were disinterest- ed and noble. To seek his country's welfare, and se- cure the blessings of domestic peace — to discharge a bold and perilous duty to bis friend and patron — to re- gard his passion for Alice Bridgenorth, as the load-stai which was to «;uide him to noble deeds — were the reso* lutions which thronged upon his mind, and which exalt- ed his spirits to that state of romantic melancholy, which perhaps is ill exchanged even for feelings of joy- ful rapture. He was recalled from these contemplations by some- thing which nestled itself softly and closely to his side — a woman's sigh sounded so near him, as to disturb his reverie ; and as he turned his head, he saw Fenella seated beside him, with her eves fixed on the same star which had just occupied his own. His first emotion was that of displeasure ; but it was impossible to persevere in it, towards a being so helpless in many respects, so PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 263 interesting in others ; whose large dark eyes were filled with dew, which glistened in the moonlight; and the source of whose emotions seemed to be in a partiality which might well claim indulgence, at least from him, who was the object of it. At the same time. Julian re- solved to seize the present opportunity, for such expos- tulation with Fenella on the strangeness of her conduct, as the poor maiden might be able to comprehend. He took her hand with great kindness, but at the same time with much gravity, pointed to the boat, and to the castle, whose towers and extended walls were now scarce visi- ble in the distance : and thus intimated to her the ne- cessity of her return to Holm Peel. She looked down, and shook her head, as if negativing his proposal with obstinate decision. Ju'ian renewed his expostulation by look and gesture — pointed to his own heart, to inti- mate the Countess — and bent his brows, to show the pleasure which she must entertain. To all which, the maiden only answered by her tears. At length, as if driven to explanation by his continued rem »n-trances, she suddenly seized him by the arm, to arrest his attention — cast her eye hastily around, as if to see whether she was watched by any one — then drew the other hand, edgeways, across her slender throat — pointed to th.e boat, and to the castle, and nodded. On this series of signs, Peveril could put no interpre- tation, excepting that he was menaced with some per- sonal danger, from which Fenella seemed to conceive that her presence was a protection. Whatever was her meaning, her purpose seemed unalterably adopted ; at least, it wa^i plain he hid no power to shake it. He must, therefore, wait till the end of their short voyage, to disembarrass himself of his companion ; and, in the meanwhile, acting on the idea of her having harboured a misplaced attachment to him, he thought he should best consult her interest, and his own character, in keep- ing at as great a distance from her as circumstances ad- mitted. With this purpose, he made the sign she used for going to sleep, by leaning his head on his palm ; and having thus recommended to her to go to rest, he him- self desired to be conducted to his birth. 264 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. The captain readily showed him a hammock in the after-cabin, into which he threw himself, to seek that re- pose which the exercise and agitation of the preceding day, as well as the lateness of the hour, made him now feel desirable. Sleep, deep and heavy, sunk down on him in a few minutes, but it did not endure long. In his sleep he was disturbed by female cries ; and at length, as he thought, distinctly heard the voice of Alice Bridge- north call on his name. He awoke, and starting up to quit his bed, became sensible, from the motion of the vessel, and the swinging of the hammock, that his dream had deceived him. He was still startled by its extreme vivacity and liveliness. " Julian Peveril, help ! Julian Peveril !" The sound still rung in his ears — the accents were those of Alice — and he could scarce persuade himself that his imagina- tion had deceived him. Could she be in the same ves- sel ? The thought was not altogether inconsistent with her father's character, and the intrigues in which he was engaged ; but, then, if so. to what peril was she exposed, that she invoked his name so loudly ? Determined to make instant inquiry, he jumped out of his hammock, half dressed as he was, and siumbling about the little cabin, which was as dark as pitch, at length, with a considerable difficulty, reached the door. The door, however, he was altogether unable to open; and was obliged to call loudly to the watch upon deck. The skipper, or captain, as he was called, being the only persou aboard who could speak English, answered to the summons, and replied to PeveriPs demand, what noise that was ? — that a boat was going off with the young woman — that she whimpered a little as she left the ves- sel — and " dat vaas all. 1 ' This explanation satisfied Julian, who thought it pro- bable that some degree of violence might have been absolutely necessary to remove Fenella ; and although he rejoiced not to have witnessed it, he could not feel sorry that such had been employed. Her pertinacious desire to continue on board, and the difficulty of freeing himself when he should come ashore from so singular PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 20a impanion, bad given him a good deal of anxiety on the preceding night, which he now saw removed by this bold stroke of the captain. His drearn was thus fully explained. Fancy had caught up the inarticulate and vehement cries with which Fenella was wont to express resistance or displeasure — had coined them into language, and given them the ac- cents of Alice Bridgenorth. Our imagination plays wilder tricks with us almost every night. The captain now undid the door, and appeared with j. lantern, without the aid of which, Peveril could scarce have regained his couch, where he now slumbered se- cure and sound, until day was far advanced, and the in- vitation of the captain called him up to breakfast. CHAPTER XIX. fc T ow, what is this that haunts me like my shadow, Frisking and mumming like an elfin moonlight? BEJV JoNSOJf. Peveril found the master of the vessel rather less vude than those in his station of life usually are, and re- ceived from him full satisfaction concerning the fate of Fenella, upon whom the captain bestowed a hearty curse, for obliging him to lay-to until he had sent his boat ashore, and had her back again. " I hope," said Peveril, " no violence was necessary to reconcile her to go ashore ? 1 trust she offered no fool- ish resistance?" " Resist ! mein Gott," said the captain. " she did resist like a troop of horse — she did cry, you might hear her at Whitehaven — she did go up the rigging like a cat up a chimney ; but dat vas ein trick of her old trade." " What trarle do you mean f" said Peveril. " O," said the seaman, " I vas known more about her than you, Meinheer. I vas known that she vas a little, very little girl, and prentice to one seiltanzer, when my hidy yonder had the good luck to buy her." Vol. I. 23 ~6(> PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* " A seiltanzer," said Peveril ; " what do you mean b\ that r" " I mean a rope-danzer, a mountebank, a Hans pickel- barring. J vas known Adrian Brackel veil — he sell de powders dat empty men's stomach, and fill him's own purse. Not know Adrian Brackel, mein Gott ! I have smoked many a pound of tabak with him." Peveril now remembered that Fenella had been brought into the family when he and the young Earl were in England, while the Countess was absent on an expedition to the continent. Where the Countess found her, she never communicated to the young men ; but only intimated, that she had received her out of compas- sion, in order to relieve her situation of extreme distress." He hinted so much to the communicative seaman, who replied, " that for distress he knew nocht on't ; only, that Adrian Brackel beat her when she would not dance on the rope, and starved her when she did, to prevent her growth." The bargain between the Countess and the mountebank, he said, he had made himself; because the Countess had hired his brig upon her expedition to the continent. None else knew where she came from. The Countess had seen her on a public stage at Ostend — compassionated her helpless situation, and the sgyjTa treatment she received — and had employed him to purchase the poor creature from her master, and charged him with silence towards all her retinue. "And sol do keep silence," continued the faithful confidant, " van I am in the havens of Man ; but when I am on the broad seas, den my tongue is mine own, you know. Die fool- ish beoples in the island, they say she is a wechsel-balg — what you call a fairyelf changeling. My faith, they do not never have seen ein wechsel-balg ; for I saw one myself at Cologne, and it was twice as big as yonder girl, and did break the poor people, with eating them up, like de great big cuckoo in the sparrow's nest ; but this Venella eat no more than other girls— it was no wechsel- balg in the world." By a different train of reasoning, Julian had arrived at the same conclusion ; in which, therefore, he heartily acquiesced. During the seaman's prosing, he was re-- PEVERIL OF THE PKAK 26' fleeting within himself, how much of the singular flexi- bility of her limbs and movements the unfortunate girl must have derived from the discipline and instructions of Adrian Brackel ; and also how far the germs of her wil- ful and capricious passions might have been sown during her wandering and adventurous childhood. Aristocra- tic, also, as his education had been, the anecdotes re- specting Fenella's original situation and education rather increased his pleasure at having shaken oif her compa- ny ; and yet he still felt desirous to know any further particulars which the seaman could communicate on the same subject. But he had already told all he knew. Of her parents he knew nothing, except that " her fa- ther must have been a damned hundsfoot, and a schelm, for selling his own flesh and blood to Adrian Brackel ;" for by such a transaction had the mountebank become possessed of his pupil. This conversation tended to remove any passing doubts which might have crept on Peveril's mind concerning the fidelity of the master of the vessel, who appeared from thence to have been a former acquaintance of the Coun- tess, and to have enjoyed some share of her confidence. The threatening motion used by Fenella he no longer considered as worthy of any notice, excepting as a new mark of the irritability of her temper. He amused himself with walking the deck, and musing on his past and future prospects, until his attention was forcibly arrested by the wind, whicli began to rise in gusts from the northwest, in a manner so unfavourable to the course they intended to hold, that the master, after many efforts to beat against it, declared his bark, which was by no means an excellent sea-boat, was unequal to making Whitehaven; and that he was compelled to make a fair wind of it, and run for Liverpool. To thi- coarse Peveril did not object. It saved him some land journey, in case he visited his father's castle; and the Countess's commission would be discharged as effectual- ly the one way as the other. The vessel was put, accordingly, before the wind, and ran with great steadiness 'and velocity. The captain, notwithstanding, pleading some nautical hazards, chose PEVEKIL OF THE PEAK. to lay off. and did not attempt the mouth of the Mei until morning, when Peveril had at length the satisfac- tion of being landed upon the quay of Liverpool, which even then showed symptoms of the commercial prospe- rity which has since been carried to such a height. The master, who was well acquainted with the port„ pointed out to Julian a decent place of entertainment. chiefly frequented by seafaring people ; for, although he had been in the town formerly, he did not think it pro- per to go any where at present, where he might have been unnecessarily recognised. Here he took leave of the seaman, after pressing upon him with difficulty a small present for his crew. As for his passage, the cap- tain declined any recompense whatsoever ; and they part- ed on the most civil terms. The inn to which he was recommended was full of strangers, seamen, and mercantile people, all intent up- on their own affairs, and discussing them with noise and eagerness peculiar to the business of a thriving seaport. But although the general clamour of the public room, in which the guests mixed with each other, related chiefly to their own commercial dealings, there was a general theme mingling with them, which was alike common and interesting to all j so that, amidst disputes about freight, tonnage, demurrage, and such like, were heard the em- phatic sounds of " Deep, damnable, accursed plot," — " Bloody Papist villains," — "The King in danger — the gallows too good for them," und so forth. The fermentation excited in London had plainly reached even this remote seaport, and was received b) the inhabitants with the peculiar stormy energy which invests men in their situation with the character of the winds and waves with which they are chiefly conversant. The commercial and nautical interests of England were indeed particularly anti-catholic; although it is not. perhaps, easy to give any distinct reason why they should be so, since theological disputes in general could scarce be considered as interesting to them. But zeal, amongst the lower orders at least, is often in an inverse ratio to knowledge; and sailors were not probably the less ear- nest and devoted Protestants, that thev did not under- PEVER1L OF THE. PEAK. I 269 stand the controversy between the churches. As for the merchants, they were almost necessarily inimical to the gentry of Lancashire and Cheshire ; many of whom still retained the faith of Rome, which was rendered ten times more odious to the men of commerce, as the badge of their haughty aristocratic neighbours. From the little which Peveril heard of the sentiments of the people of Liverpool, he imagined he should act most prudently in leaving the place as soon as possible, and before any suspicion should arise of his having any connexion with the party which appeared to have become so obnoxious. In order to accomplish his journey, it was first neces- sary that he should purchase a horse ; and for this pur- pose he resolved to have recourse to the stables of a dealer well known at the time, and who dwelt in the out- skirts of the place ; and having obtained directions to In- dwelling, he went thither to provide himself. Joe Bridlesley's stables exhibited a large choice of good horses ; for that trade was formerly more generally active than at present. It was an ordinary thing for a stranger to buy a horse for the purpose of a single journey, and to sell him, as well as he could, when he had reached the point of his destination ; and hence there was a constant demand, and a corresponding supply ; upon both of which, Bridlesley, and those of his trade, contrived, doubtless, to make handsome profits. Julian, who was no despicable horse-jockey, selected for his purpose a strong well-made horse, about sixteen hands high, and had him led into the yard, tosee whether his paces corresponded with his appearance. As these also gave perfect satisfaction to the customer, it remained only to settle the price with Bridlesley, who of course saw his customer had pitched upon the best horse ever dark- ened the stable door, since he had dealt that way ; that no such hordes were to be had now-a-days, for that the mares were dead that foaled them ; and having named a corresponding price, the usual haggling commenced be- twixt the seller and purchaser, for adjustment of what the 'French dealers call It prix juste. The reader, if he is at all acquainted with this sort of 23* Z1KX * PEVER1L OF THE PEAK.. traffic, well knows it is generally a keen encounter 01 wits, and attracts the notice of all the idlers within hearing, who are usually very ready to offer their opi- nions, or their evidence. Amongst these, upon the pre- sent occasion, was a thin man, rather less than the ordi- nary size, and meanly dressed ; but whose interference was in a confident tone, and such as showed himself master of the subject on which he spoke. The price of the horse being settled to about fifteen pounds, which was very high for the period, that of the saddle and bridle had next to be adjusted, and the thin mean looking per- son before mentioned, found nearly as much to say on tins subject as on the other. As his remarks had a con- ciliating and obliging tendency towards the stranger. Peveril concluded he was one of those idle persons, who, unable or unwilling to supply themselves with means of indulgence at their own cost, are not unwilling to deserve them at the hands of others, by a little officious com- plaisance ; and considering that he might acquire some useful information from such a person, was just about to offer him the courtsey of a morning draught, when he observed he had suddenly left the yard. He had scarce remarked this circumstance, before a party of customers filtered the place, whose haughty assumption of impor- tance claimed the instant attention of Bridlesley. and all his militia of grooms and stable-boys. "Three good horses,' 7 said the leader of the party, a i all bulky man, whose breath was drawn full and high, under a consciousness of fat, and of importance — " three good and able-bodied horses, for the service of the Com- mons of England." Bridlesley said he had some horses which might serve I he Speaker himself at need ; but that, to speak Christian truth, he had just sold the best in his stable to that gen- tleman present, who, doubtless, would give up the bar- gain if the horse was needed for the service of the state. " You speak well, friend," said the important per- sonage; and advancing to Julian, demanded, in a very haughty tone, the surrender of the purchase which he hatl just made. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 2? 1 Peveril, with some difficulty, subdued the strong de- sire which he felt to return a round refusal to so unrea- sonable a request, but fortunately, recollecting that the situation in which he at present stood, required, on his part, much circumspection, he replied simply, that upon showing him any warrant to seize upon horses for the public service, he must of course submit to resign his. purchase. The man, with an air of extreme dignity, pulled from his pocket, and thrust into Peveril's hands, a warrant, subscribed by the Speaker of the House of Commons, empowering Charles Topham, their officer of the Black Rod, to pursue and seize upon the persons of certain in- dividuals named in the warrant ; and of all other per- sons who are, or should be, accused by competent wit- nesses, of being accessory to, or favourers of, the hellish and damnable Popish Plot, at present carried on within the bowels of the kingdom ; and charging all men, as they loved their allegiance, to render the said Charles Topham their readiness and most effective assistance, in execution of the duty intrusted to his care. On perusing a document of such weighty import, Ju- lian had no hesitation to give up his horse to this formi- dable functionary ; whom somebody compared to a lion, which, as the House of Commons was pleased to main- tain such an animal, they were under the necessity of providing for by frequent commitments; until "talc? lil m. Topham," became a proverb, and a formidable one, in the mouth of the public. The acquiescence of Peveril procured him some grace in the sight of the emissary ; who, before selecting two horses for his attendants, gave permission to the stran- ger to purchase a gray horse, much inferior, indeed, to that which he had resigned, both in form and in action, but very little lower in price, as Mr. Bridlesley, imme- diately on learning the demand for the horse upon the part of the Commons of England, had passed a private resolution in his own mind, augmenting the price of hi- whole stud, by an imposition of at least twenty per cent, ad valorem. 27-2 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Peveril adjusted and paid the price with much les- argument than on the former occasion ; for, to be plain with the reader, he had noticed in the warrant of Mr. Topham, the name of his father, Sir Geoffrey Peveril of Martindale Castle, engrossed at full length, as one of those subjected to arrest by that officer. When aware of this material fact, it became Julian'* business to leave Liverpool directly, and carry the alarm to Derbyshire, if, indeed, Mr. Topham had not already executed his charge in that country, which he thought unlikely, as it was probable they would commence by securing those who lived nearest to the seaports. A word or two which he overheard, strengthened his hopes. " And hark ye, friend," said Mr. Topham ; " you will have the horse at the door of Mr. Shortell, the mer- cer, in two hours, as we shall refresh ourselves there with a cool tankard, and learn what folks live in the neighbourhood that may be concerned in my way. And you will please to have that saddle padded, for I am told the Derbyshire roads are rough. And you, Captain Danglefield, and Master Everett, you must put on your Protestant spectacles, and show me where there is the shadow of a priest, or of a priest's favourer; for I am come down with a broom in my cap to sweep this north country of such like cattle." One of the persons he thus addressed, who wore the garb of a broken-down citizen, only answered, " Ay. truly, Master Topham, it is time to purge the garner." The other, who had a formidable pair of whiskers, a red nose, and a tarnished laced coat, together with a hat of Pistol's dimensions, was more loquacious. " I take it on my damnation," said this zealous Protestant wit- ness, " that 1 will discover the marks of the beast on every one of them betwixt sixteen and seventy, as plain- ly as if they had crossed themselves with ink, instead of holy water. Since we have a King willing to do jus- tice, and a House of Commons to uphold prosecutions, why, damn me, the cause must not stand still for lack of evidence." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 2?3 '• Stick to that, noble captain," answered the officer ; " but prithee, reserve thy oaths for the court of justice; it is but sheer waste to throw them away, as you do, in your ordinary conversation." " Fear you nothing, Master Topham," answered Dan- gerfield ; " it is right to keep a man's gifts in use ; and were I altogether to renounce oaths in my private dis- course, how should I know how to use one when 1 need- ed it ? But you hear me use none of your Papist abju- rations. I swear not by the Mass, or before George, or by any thing that belongs to idolatry ; but such down- right oaths as may serve a poor Protestant gentleman, who would fain serve Heaven and the King." " Bravely spoken, most noble Festus," said his yoke- fellow. " But do not suppose, that although I do not use to garnish my words with oaths out of season, that I will be wanting, when called upon, to declare the height and the depth, the width and the length, of this hellish plot against the King and the Protestant faith." Dizzy, and almost sick, with listening to the undis- guised brutality of these fellows, Peveril having w r ith difficulty prevailed on Bridlesley to settle his purchase, at length led forth his gray steed ; but was scarce out of the yard, when he heard the following alarming conver- sation pass, of which he seemed himself the object. " Who is that youth :" said the slow soft voice of thr- more precise of the two witnesses. " Methinks I have seen him somewhere before. Is he from these parts ?" •■ Not that I know of," said Bridlesley ; who, like all the other inhabitants of England at the time, answered the interrogatories of these fellows with the deference which is paid in Spain to the questions of an inquisitor. " A stranger — entirely a stranger — never saw him be- fore — a wild young colt, I warrant him ; and knows a horse's mouth as well as I do.'" " I begin to bethink me I saw such a face as his at the Jesuit's consult, in the White Horse Tavern." answered Everett. *•* And I think I recollect." said Captain Danger- field J74 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. "Come, come, master and captain," said the autho- ritative voice of Topham, " we will have none of your recollections at present. We all know what these are likely to end in. But I will have you know, you are not to run till the leash is slipped. The young man is a well-looking lad, raid gave up his horse handsomely for the service of the House of Commons. He knows how to behave himself to his betters, I warrant you ; and I scarce think he has enough in his purse to pay the fees." This speech concluded the dialogue, which Peveril, finding himself so much concerned in the issue, thought it best to hear to an end. Now when it ceased, to get out of the town unobserved, and take the nearest way to li is father's castle, seemed his wisest plan. He had set- tled his reckoning at the inn, and brought with him to Bridlesley's the small portmantle which contained his few necessaries, so that he had no occasion to go thither. He resolved, therefore, to ride some miles before he stopped, even for the purpose of feeding his horse ; and being pretty well acquainted with the country, he hoped to be able to push forward to Martindale Castle sooner than the worshipful Master Topham ; whose saddle was, in the first place, to be padded, and who, when mounted, would, in all probability, ride with the precaution of those who require such security against the effects of a hard trot. Under the influence of these feelings, Julian pushed for Warrington, a place with which he was well acquainted ; but without halting in the town, he crossed the Mersey, by the bridge built by an ancestor of his friend the Earl of Derby, and continued his rout towards Dishley, on the borders of Derbyshire, He might have reached thi^ latter village easily, had his horse been fitter for a forced march ; but in the course of the journey, he had occa- sion more than once, to curse the official dignity of the person who had robbed him of his better horse, while ta- king the best direction he could through a country with which he was only generally acquainted. At length, near Altringham, a halt became unavoid- able : and Peveril had only to look for some quiet and PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 21i) sequestered place of refreshment. This presented itself, in the form of a small cluster of cottages ; the best of which united the characters of an alehouse and a mill. where the sign of the Cat (the landlord's faithful ally in defence of his meal-sacks) booted as high as Grimalkin in the fairy tale, and playing on the fiddle for the more grace, announced that John Whitecraft united the two honest occupations of landlord and miller ; and doubt- less took toll from the public in both capacities. Such a place promised a traveller, who journeyed in- cognito, more safe, if not better accommodation, than he was like to meet with in more frequented inns ; and at the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian halted accord- ingly. CHAPTER XX. teflHte?, when each n The bloody stratag^TC of busy heads. In these distrncteftfHfce?, when each man dread; Otway. At the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian received the usual attention paid to the customers of an inferior hou^f- of entertainment. His horse was carried by a ragged lad, who acted as hostler, in a paltry stable ; where, how- ever, it wa> tolerably supplied with food and litter. Having seen the animal on which his comfort, per- haps his safety depended, properly provided for, Peveril entered the kitchen, which indeed was also the parlom and hall of the little hostelry, to try what refreshment he could obtain for himself. Much to his satisfaction, he found there was only one guest in the kitchen beside himself, but he was less pleased when he found that he must either go without dinner, or share with that single guest the only provisions which chanced to be in the house, namely, a dish of trouts and eels, which their host, the miller, had brought in from his mill-stream. At the particular request of Julian, the landlady un- dertook to add a substantial dish of eggs and bacon. 276 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. which perhaps she would not have undertaken for, had not the sharp eye of Peveril discovered the flitch hang- ing in its smoky retreat, when, as its presence could not he denied, the hostess was compelled to bring it forward as a part of her supplies. She was a buxom dame, about thirty, whose comely and cheerful countenance did honour to the choice of the jolly miller, her loving mate ; and was now station- ed under the shade of an old fashioned huge projecting chimney, within which it was her province to " work i* the lire," and provide for the wearied wayfaring man. the good things which were to send him rejoicing on his way. Although, at first, the honest woman seemed little disposed to give herself much additional trouble on Ju- lian's account, yet the good looks, handsome figure, and easy civility of her new guest, soon bespoke the princi- pal part of her attention ; and while busy in his service, she regarded him, from time to time, with looks, where something like pity mingled with complacency. Tin- rich smoke of the rasher, and tNRggs with which it was flanked, already spread itself through the apartment ; and the hissing of these savoury viands bore chorus to the simmering of the pan, in which the fish were under- going a slower decoction. The table was covered with a clean huck-a-buck napkin, and all was in preparation for the meal, which Julian began to expect with a good deal of impatience, when the companion who was .destinccPto share it with him, entered the apartment. At the first glance, Julian recognised, to his surprise. the same indifferently dressed, thin-looking person, wht>. during the first bargain which he had made with Bri- dlesley, had officiously interfered with his advice and. opinion. Displeased at having the company of any stranger forced upon him, Peveril was still less satisfied to find one who might make some claim of acquaint- ance with him, however slender, since the circumstances in which he stood, compelled him to be as reserved as possible. He therefore turned his back upon his desti- ned messmate, and pretended to amuse himself by look PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 277 ing out of the window, determined to avoid all inter- course until it should be inevitably forced upon him. In the mean while, the other stranger went straight up to the landlady, where she toiled on household cares intent, and demanded of her, what she meant by prepa- ring bacon and eggs, when he had positively charged her to get nothing ready but the fish. The good woman, important as every cook in the discharge of her duty, deigned not for some time so much as to acknowledge that she heard the reproof of her guest ; and when she did so, it was only to repel it in a magisterial and authoritative tone. — " If he did not like bacon — (bacon from tkeir own hitch, well fed on peas and bran) — if he did not like bacon and eggs-^ (new-laid eggs, which she had brought in from the heri- roost with her own hands) — why so put case — it was the worse for his honour, and the better for those who did." " The better for those who like them ?" answered the guest ; " that is as mt£b as to say I am to have a com- panion, good woman." 11 Do not good woman me, sir," replied the miller's wife, " till I call you good man ; and, I promise you, many would scruple to do that to one who does not love eggs and bacon of a Friday." "Nay, my good lady," said her guest, "do not fix any misconstruction upon me — I dare say the eggs and the bacon are excellent; only, they are rather a dish too heavy for my stomach." ^^" Ay, or your conscience, perhaps, sir," answered the ■Pstess. " And now I bethink me, you must needs have your fish fried with oil, instead of the good drippings I was going to put to them. I would I could spell the meaning of all this now : but I warrant John Bigstaff, the constable, could conjure something out of it." There was a^pause here ; but Julian, somewhat alarm- ed at the tone which the conversation assumed, became interested in watching the dumb show which succeeded. By bringing his head a little towards the left, but with- out turning round, or quitting the projecting latticed win- Vol. I. 24 378 PEVERIL OP f HE PEAK. dow where he had taken his station, he could observe that the stranger, secured, as he seemed to think himself, from observation, had sidled close up to the landlady ; and, as he conceived, had put a piece of money into her hand. The altered tone of the miller's moiety corres- ponded very much with this supposition. ft " Nay, indeed, and forsooth," she said, " her house was Liberty-hall ; and so should every publican's be. What was it to her what gentlefolks ate or drank, pro- viding they paid for it honestly ? There were many honest gentlemen, whose stomachs could not abide ba- con, grease, or dripping, especially on a Friday ; and what was that to her, or any one in her line, so gentle- folks paid honesth' for the trouble ? Only, she would %ay, that her bacon and eggs could not be mended be- twixt this and Liverpool ; and that she would live and die upon." " I shall hardly dispute it," said the stranger ; and turning towards Julian, he added, "I wish this gentle- man, who I suppose is my trencher companion, much joy of the dainties which I cannot assist him in con- suming." "I assure you, sir," answered Peveril, who now felt himself compelled to turn about, and reply with civility, " that it was with difficulty I could prevail on my land- lady to add my cover to yours, though she seems now such a zealot for the consumption of eggs and bacon." "I am zealous for nothing," said the landlady, " save that men would eat their victuals, and pay their score ; and if there be enough in one dish to serve two guests,!^ see little purpose in dressing them two ; however, the^ij are ready now. and done to a nicety. — Here, Alice ! Alice !" The sound of that well-known name made Julian start; but the Alice who replied to the call ill resembled the vision which his imagination connected with the accents, being a dowdy slip-shod wench, the drudge of the low inn which afforded him shelter. She assisted her mis- tress in putting on the table the dishes which the latter had prepared 5 and a foaming jug of home-brewed ale PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 279 being placed betwixt them, was warranted by dame Whitecraft as excellent; "for," said she, "we know by practice that too much water drowns the miller, and we >pare it on our malt as we would in our mill-dam." " I drink to your health in it, dame," said the elder stranger; " and a cup of thanks for these excellent fish : and to the drowning of all unkindness between us." "I thank you, sir," said the dame, " and wish you the like ; but I dare not pledge you, for our Gaffer says, the ale is brewed too strong for women ; so I only drink a glass of canary at a time with a gossip, or any gentle- man guest that is so minded." 11 You shall drink one with me then, dame," said Pe- veril, "so you will let me have a flagon." " That you shall, sir, and as good as ever was broach- ed ; but I must to the mill, to get the key from the good man." So saying, and tucking her clean gown through the pocket-holes, that her steps might be the more alert, and her dress escape dust, off she tripped to the mill, which lay close adjoining. " A dainty dame, and dangerous, is the miller's wife*" .-aid the stranger, looking at Peveril. " Is not that old Chaucer's phrase ?" " I — I believe so,' ? said Peveril, not much read in Chaucer, who was then even more neglected than at pre- sent ; and much surprised at a literary quotation from one of the mean appearance exhibited by the person -before him. * m* " Yes," answered the stranger, " I see that you, like other young gentlemen of the time, are better acquaint- ed with Cowley and Waller, than with the i well of Eng- lish undcfiled.* I cannot help differing. There are touches of nature about the old bard of Woodstock, that, to me, are worth all the turns of laborious wit in Cow- ley, and all the ornate and artificial simplicity of his courtly competitor. The description, for instance, of his country coquette — 4 Wincing she was, as is a wanton colt, Sweet as a flower, and upright as a bol'/ 280 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Then again, for pathos, where will you mend the dying scene of Arcitef « Alas, my heartis queen ! alas, my wife ! Giver at once, and ender of my life. What is this world ? — What axen men to have ; IN'ow with his love — now in his cold grave Alone, withouten other company.' But I tire you, sir ; and do injustice to the poet, whom I remember but by halves." "On the contrary, sir," replied Peveril, "you make him more intelligible to me in your recitation, than I found him when I have tried to peruse him myself." u You were only frightened by the antiquated spelling and i the letters black,' " said his companion. " It i< many a scholar's case, who mistakes a nut, which he could crack with a little exertion, for a bullet, which he must needs break his teeth on ; but yours are better em- ployed. — Shall I offer you some of this fish?" " Not so, sir," replied Julian, willing to sho# himself a man of reading in his turn ; " I hold with old Caius. and profess a fine judgment, to fight where I cannot chuse, and to eat no fish." The stranger cast a started look around him at this observation, which Julian had thrown out, on purpose to ascertain, if possible, the quality of his companion., whose present language was so different from the cha- racter he had assumed at Bridlesley's. His countenance., too, although the features were of an ordinary, not to say mean cast, had that character of intelligence which education gives to the most homely face ; and his man- ners were so easy and disembarrassed, as plainly showed a complete acquaintance with society, as well as the ha- bit of mingling with it in the higher stages. The alarm which he had evidently shown at PeveriPs answer, wa> but momentary ; for he almost instantly replied, with a .-mile, " I promise you, sir, that you are in no danger- ous company ; for notwithstanding my fish dinner, I am much disposed to trifle with some of your savoury mess, if you will indulge me so far." ■ PEVERIL OF THE PEAK* 261 Peveril accordingly reinforced the stranger's trencher with what remained of the bacon and eggs, and saw him swallow a mouthful or two with apparent relish ; but presently after, began to dally with his knife and fork, like one whose appetite was satiated ; then took a long draught of the blackjack, and handed his platter to the large mastiff dog, who, attracted by the smell of the dinner, had sate before him for some time licking hi? chops, and following with his eye every morsel which the guest raised to his head. " Here, my poor fellow," said he, " thou hast had no fish, and needest this supernumerary trencher-load more than I do. I cannot withstand thy mute supplication any longer." The dog answered these courtesies by a civil shake of the tail, while he gobbled up what was assigned him by the stranger's benevolence, in the greater haste, that he heard his mistress's voice at the door. " H£re is the canary, gentlemen," said the landlady : u and the goodman has set off the mill, to come to wait on you himself. He always does so, when company drink wine.'" " That he may come in for the host's, that is, for the lion's shore," said the stranger, looking at Peveril. " The shot is mine," said Julian ; " and if mine host will share it, I will willingly bestow another quart on him, and on you, sir. I never break old customs." These sounds caught the ear of Gaffer Whitecrafl, who had entered the room, a strapping specimen of his robust trade, prepared to play the civil, or the surly host, as his company should be acceptable or otherwise. At Julian's invitation, he doffed his dusty bonnet — brushed from his sleeve the looser particles of his professional dust — and sitting down on the end of a bench, about' a yard from the table, filled a glass of ca> nary and drank to his guests, and " especially to this np- ble gentleman," indicating Peveril, who had ordered tftc canary. I 24? 282 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Julian returned the courtesy by drinking his health/ aud asking what news were about in the country. " Nought, sir, I hears on nought, except this plot, a? they call it, that they are pursuing the Papishers about : but it brings water to my mill, as the saying is. Be- tween expresses hurrying hither and thither, and guards and prisoners riding to and again, and the custom of the neighbours, that come to speak over the news of an even- ing, nightly I may say, instead of once a-week, why the spiggot is in use, gentlemen, and your landlord thrives j and then I, serving as constable, and being a known Protestant, I have tapped, I may venture to say, it may be ten stands of ale extraordinary, besides a reasonable sale of wine for a country corner. Heaven make us thankful, and keep all good Protestant's from plot and Popery !" " I can easily conceive, my friend," said Julian, " that curiosity is a passion which runs naturally to the alehouse ; and that anger, and jealousy, and fear, are all of them thirsty passions, and great consumers of home brewed. But I am a perfect stranger in thesr parts ; and I would willingly learn, from a sensible man like you, a little of this same plot, of which men speak so much, and appear to know so little." '•' Learn a little of it ? — Why, it is the most horrible — the most damnable blood-thirsty beast of a plot — But hold, hold, my good master ; I hope, in the first place, you believe there is a plot ? for, otherwise, the justice must have a word with you, so sure as my name is John Whitecraft." " It shall not need," said Peveril ; " for I assure you, mine host, I believe in the plot as freely and fully as a man can believe in any thing he cannot understand." " God forbid that any body should pretend to underr stand it," said the implicit constable ; " for his worship the justice says it is a mile beyond him ; and he be as deep as most of them. But men may believe, though tbey do not understand ; and that is what the Romanist- Say themselves. But this I am sure of, it makes a rare stirring time for justices, and witnesses, and constables. FEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 283 — So here's to your health again, gentlemen, in a cup of neat canary." " Come, come, John Whitecraft,' , said his wife, " dO not you demean yourself by naming witnesses along with justices and constables. All the world knows how they come by their mone}'." " Ay, but all the world knows that they do come by if, dame : and that is a great comfort. They rustle in their canonical silks, and swagger in their buff and scarlet, who but they f — Ay, ay, the cursed fox thieves — and not so cursed neither. Is there not Doctor Titus Oates* the saviour of the nation — does he not live at Whitehall, and eat off plate, and have a pension of thousands a year, for what I know ? and is he not to be Bishop of Litch- field, so soon as Doctor Doddrum dies ?" ft Then I hope Doctor Doddrum's reverence will live these twenty years ; and I dare say I am the first that ever wished such a wish, n said the hostess. " I do not understand these doings, not I ; and if a hundred Jesuits came to hold a consult at my house, as they did at the White Horse Tavern, I should think it quite out of the line of business to bear witness against them, provided ijiey drank well, and paid their scoiye." " Very true, dame," said her elder guest ; "that is what I call keeping a good publican conscience ; and so I will pay score presently, and be jogging on my way." Peverilj on his part, also demanded a reckoning, and discharged it so liberally, that the miller flourished his hat as he bowed, and the hostess curtsied down to the ground. The horses of both guests were brought forth ; and they mounted in order to depart in company. The host and hostess stood in the door, to see them depart. The land- lord proffered a stirrup-cup to the elder guest, while the landlady offeredPevenl a glass from her own peculiar bot- tle. For this purpose, she mounted on the horse-block, with flask and glass in hand ; so that it was easy for the departing guest, although on horseback, to return the courtesy in the most approved manner, namely, by throwing his arm over his landlady's shoulder, and Salu- ting her at parting.; 2B4 PEVERIL OF TnE TEAS. Dame Whitecraft could not decline this familiarity ; for there is no room for traversing upon a horse-block, and the hands which might have served her for resis- tance, were occupied with glass and bottle — matters too precious to be thrown away in such a struggle. Ap- parently, however, she had something else in her head £ for, as, after a brief affectation of reluctance, she permit- ted Peveril's face to approach her's, she whispered in his ear, " Beware of trapans!" — an awful intimation, which in those days of distrust, suspicion and treachery, was as effectual in interdicting free and social intercourse, a> the advertisement of " man-traps and spring-guns, " to protect an orchard. Pressing her hand, in intimation that lie comprehended her hint, she shook his warmly in re- turn, and bade God speed him. There was a cloud on John Whitecraft's brow f nor did his final farewell sound half so cordial as that which had been spoken within doors. But then Peveril reflected, that the same guest is not always equally acceptable to landlord and landlady : and unconscious of having done any thing to excite the miller's displeasure, he pursued his journey without think- ing farther of the matter. Julian was a little suprised, and not altogether pleased, to find that his new acquaintance held the same road with him. He had many reasons for wishing to travel alone ; and the hostess's caution still rung in his ears. If this man, possessed of so much shrewdness as his coun- tenance and conversation intimated, versatile, as he had occasion to remark, and disguised beneath his condition^ should prove, as was likely, to be a concealed Jesuit or seminary-priest, travelling upon their great task of the conversion of England, and rooting out of the Northern heresy — a more dangerous companion, for a person in his own circumstances, could hardly be imagined ; since keeping society with him might seem to authorize what- ever reports had been spread concerning the attachment of his family to the Catholic cause. At the same time, it was very difficult, without actual rudeness, to shake off the company of one who seemed determined, whether spoken to or not, to remain along-side of him, along-sic PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 285 Peveril tried the experiment of riding slow ; but his companion, determined not to drop him, slackened his pace, so as to keep close by him. Julian then spurred his horse to a full trot ; and was soon satisfied, tha£ the stranger, notwithstanding the meanness of his appear- ance, was so much better mounted than himself, as to ren- der vain any thoughts of outriding him. He pulled up his horse to a more reasonable pace, therefore, in a sort of despair. Upon his doing so, his companion, who had been hitherto silent, observed, that Peveril was not so well qualified to try speed upon the road, as he would have been had he abode by his first bargain of horse- flesh that morning. Peveril assented drily, but observed, that the animal would serve his immediate purpose, though he feared it would render him indifferent company for a person bet- ter mounted. " By no means," answered his civil companion; "I am one of those who have travelled so much, as to be ac- customed to make my journey at any rate of motion which may be most agreeable to my company." Peveril made no reply to this polite intimation, being too sincere to tender the thanks which, in courtesy, were the proper answer. — A second pause ensued, which was broken by Julian asking the stranger whether their roads were likely to lie long together in the same direction. "I cannot tell," said the stranger, smiling, "unless I knew which way you were travelling." " I am uncertain how far I shall go to-night," said Ju* lian, willingly misunderstanding the purport of the re- " And so am I," replied the stranger ; " but though my horse goes better than yours, I think it will be wise to spare him ; and in case our road continues to lie the same way, we are like to sup, as we have dined toge* ther." Julian made no answer whatever to this round intima- tion, but continued to ride on, turning, in his own mind, whether it would not be wisest to come to a distinct ex- * 286 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. planation with his pertinacious attendant, and to explain... in so many words, that it was his pleasure to travel alone. But, besides, that the sort of acquaintance which they had formed during dinner, rendered him unwilling to be directly uncivil towards a person of gentlemanlike manners, he had also to consider that he might very pos- sibly be mistaken in this man's character and purpose ; in which case, the cynically refusing the society of a sound Protestant, would afford as pregnant matter of suspicion, as travelling in company with a disguised Jesuit. After brief reflection, therefore, he resolved to endure the incumbrance of the stranger's society, until a fair op- portunity should occur to rid himself of it ; and, in the mean time, to act with as much caution as he possibly could, in any communication that might take place be- tween them ; for Dame Whitecraft's parting caution still rang anxiously in his ears, and the consequences of his own arrest upon suspicion, must deprive him of every opportunity of serving his father, or the Countess, or Major Bridgenorth, upon whose interest, also, he had promised himself to keep an eye. While he revolved these things in his mind, they had journeyed several miles without speaking ; and now en* lered upon a more waste country, and worse roads, than they had hitherto found, being, in fact, approaching the more hilly county of Derbyshire. In travelling on a very stony and uneven lane, Julian's horse repeatedly stumbled j and had he not been supported by the rider's judicious use of aid and bit, must at length certainly have fallen under him. "These are times which crave wary riding, sir," said his companion ; " and by your seat in the saddle, and your hand on the rein, you seem to understand it." " I have been long a horseman,' sir," answered Pe~ veril. " And long a traveller too, sir, I should suppose ; since, by the great caution you observe, you seem ta • PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 287 ibink the human tongue requires a curb, as well as the horse's jaws." " Wiser men than I have been of opinion," answered Peveril, " that it were a part of prudence to be silent, when men have little or nothing to say." " I cannot approve of their opinion," answered the stranger. " All knowledge is gained by communica- tion, either with the dead, through books, or, more plea- singly, through the conversation of the living. The deaf and dumb, alone, are excluded from improvement : and surely their situation is not so enviable that we should imitate them." At this illustration, which wakened a startling echo in Peveril's bosom, the young man looked hard at his com- panion ; but in the composed countenance, and calm blue eye, he read no consciousness of a farther meaning than the words immediately and directly implied. He paused a moment, and then answered, " You seem to be a person, sir, of shrewd apprehension ; and I should have thought it might have occurred to you, that in the present suspicious times, men may, without censure, avoid communication with strangers. You know not me ; and to me you are totally unknown. There is not room for much discourse between us, without trespassing on the general topics of the day, which carry in them seeds of quarrel between friends, much more betwixt strangers. At any other time, the society of an intelli- gent companion would have been most acceptable upon my solitary ride ; but at present " " At present !" said the other, interrupting him ; " you are like the old Romans, who held that hostis meant both a stranger and an enemy. I will therefore be no longer a stranger. My name is Ganlesse — by profession I am a Roman Catholic priest — I am travelling here in dread of my life — and I am very glad to have you for a com- panion." " I thank you for the information, with all my heart,' 1 said Peveril ; " and to avail myself of it to the utter* 288 PEVE&IL OF THE TEAK* most, I must beg of you to ride forward, or lag behind, or take a side path, at your own pleasure ; for, as I am no Catholic, and travel upon business of high concern- ment, 1 am exposed both to risk and delay, and even to danger, by keeping such suspicious company. And so, Master Ganlesse, keep your own pace, and I will keep the contrary ; for I beg leave to forbear your company.*' As Peveril spoke thus, he pulled up his horse, and made a full stop. The stranger burst out a-laughing. " What !" he said, " you forbear my company for a trifle of danger ? Saint Anthony ! How the warm blood of the Cavaliers is chilled in the young men of the present day ! This young gallant, now, has a father, I warrant you, who has endured as many adventures for hunted priests, as a knight-errant for distressed damsels." " This raillery avails nothing, sir," said Peveril. " I must request you will keep your own way." " My way is yours," said the pertinacious Master Gan- lesse, as he called himself; " and we will both travel the Safer, that we journey in company. I have the receipt of fern-seed, man, and walk invisible. Besides, you would not have me quit you in this lane, where there is no turn to right or left f " Peveril moved on, desirous to avoid open violence ; for which the indifferent tone of the traveller, indeed, afforded no apt pretext ; yet highly disliking his com- pany, and determined to take the first opportunity to rid himself of it. The stranger proceeded the same pace with him. keeping cautiously on his bridle-hand, as if to secure that advantage in case of a struggle. But his language did not intimate the least apprehension. " You do me wrong," he said to Peveril, " and you equally wrong yourself. -You are uncertain where to lodge to-night — trust to my guidance. Here is an ancient hall, within four miles, with an old knightly Pantaloon for its lord — an all-be-ruffed Dame Barbara for the lady gay — a Jesuit, in a butler's habit, to say grace — an old tale of Edgehill and m PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 289 Worcester fights to relish a cold venison pasty, and a flask of claret mantled with cobwebs — a bed for you in the priest's hiding hole — and, for aught I know, pretty Mistress Betty, the dairy-maid to make it ready." " This has no charms for me, sir," said Pevcril, who, in spite of himself, could not but be amused with the ready sketch which the stranger gave of many an old mansion in Cheshire and Derbyshire, where the owners retained the ancient faith of Rome. " Well, I see I cannot charm you in this way," conti- nued his companion ; " I must strike another key. I am no longer Ganlesse, the seminary priest, but (changing his tone, and snuffling in the nose) Simon Canter, a poor preacher of the word, who travels this way to call sin- ners to repentance ; and to strengthen, and to edify, and to fructify, among the scattered remnant, who hold fast the truth. — What say you to this, sir ?" " I admire your versatility, sir, and could be entertain- ed with it at another time. At present, sincerity is more in request." " Sincerity !" said the stranger ; — " A child's whistle, with but two notes in it — yea, yea, and nay, nay. Why, man, the very Quakers have renounced it, and have got in its stead a gailant recorder, called Hypocrisy, that is somewhat like Sincerity in form, but of much greater compass, and combines the whole gamut. Come, be ruled — be a disciple of Simon Canter for the evening, and we will leave the old tumble-down castle of the knight aforesa d, on the left hand, for a new brick-built mansion, erected by an eminent salt-boiler from Nampt- wich, who expects the said Simon to make a strong spi- ritual pickle for the preservation of a soul somewhat cor- rupted by the evil communications of this wicked world. What say you ? He has two daughters — brighter eyes" never beamed under a pinched hood ; and for myself, I think there is more fire in those who live only to love and to devotion, than in your court beauties, whose hearts are running on twenty follies beside. You know not the pleasure of being conscience-keeper to a pretty precisian, who in one breath repeats her foibles, and in the next confesses her passion. Perhaps, though, you may have vol. i. 2$ 290 PEVERIL OP THE FEAK. known such in your clay ? Come, sir, it grows loo dark to see your blushes ; but I am 6ure they are burning on your cheek." " You take great freedom, sir," said Peveril, as they now approached the end of the lane, where it opened on abroad common : "and you seem rather to count more on my forbearance, than you have room to do with safe- ty. We are now nearly free of the lane which has made us companions for this last half hour. To avoid your further company, I will take the turn to the left, upon that common ; and if you follow me, it shall be at your peril. Observe, I am well armed ; and you will light at odds." " Not at odds," returned the provoking stranger, " while I have my brown jennet, with which I can ride round and around you at pleasure; and this text, of a handful in length, (showing a pistol, which he drew from his bosom. ) which discharges very convincing doctrine on the pressure of a forefinger, and is apt to equalize all odds, as you call them, of youth and strength. Let there be no strife between us, however — the moor lies before us — choose your path on it — I take the other." " i wish you good night, sir," said Peveril to the stranger. " I ask your forgiveness, if I have misconstrued you in any thing; but the times are perilous, and a man's life may depend on the society in which he tra- vels." "True," said the stranger; "but in your case, the danger is already undergone, and you should seek to counteract it. You have travelled in my company long enough to devise a handsome branch of the Popish Plot. How will you iook, when you see come forth, in comely folio form. The narrative of Simon Canter, otherwise called Stephen Ganlesse, concerning the horrid Popish Conspiracy for the Murther of the King, and Massacre of all Protestants, as given on oath to the Honourable House of Commons ; setting forth, how far Julian Peveril, younger of Martindale Castle, is concerned in carrying on the same — " "How, sir? What mean you?" said Peveril. much startled. PEVER1L OP THE PEAK. 291 " Nay, sir,*' replied his companion, " do not interrupt my title-page. Now that Oatesand Bedloe have drawn the great prizes, the subordinate discoverers get little but by the sale of their narrative ; and Janeway, Newman. Simmons, and every bookseller of them, will tell you that the title is half the narrative. Mine shall therefore set forth the various schemes you have communicated to me, of landing ten tnousand soldiers from the Isle of Man upon the coast of Lancashire ; and marching into Wales, to join the tea thousand pilgrims who are to be shipped from Spam ; and so compieting the destruction of the Protestant religion, and of the devoted city of London. Truly, I think such a narrative, well spiced with a few horrors, and published cum pririlegio parlia- menii. might, though the market be somewhat overstock- ed, be stiil worth some twenty or thirty pieces." " You seem :o know me, sir," said PevenI ; ;; and if -o. I think 1 ma;, fairly ask you your purpose in thus bearing me company, and the meaning of ah this rhapso- dy. If it oe mere banter, I can endure it within proper limit ; aitho ugh it is uncivil on the part of a stranger. It you have an} furthur purpose, speak it out ; I am not to be trifled with." " Good, now,'? said the stranger, laughing, " into what an unprofitable chafe you have put yourself! An Italian fuoruscito, when he desires a parley with you, takes aim from behind a waU with his long gun, and prefaces his conference with Possg tirare. So does your man-of-war fire a gun across the bows of a Hans-mogan Indiaman, just to bring her to ; and so do I show Master Julian Pe- veril, that, if I were one of the honourable society of witnesses and info;. ?rs, with whom his imagination has associated me for these two hours past, he is as much within my danger now, as what he is ever hkaly to be." Then, suddenly changing his tone to serious, which was in general ironical, he added, " Young man. when the tilence is diffused through the air of a city, it is in vain men would avoid the disease, by seeking solitude, Running the company of their fellow-sufferers*" . ' : In what then, consists their safety ?" said Peveril, willing to ascertain, if possible, the drill of his compa- nion's purpose. 29;} PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, r " In following the counsels of wise physicians ;" such was the stranger's answer. " And as such," said Peveril, "you offer me your ad- vice ?" " Pardon me, young man," said the stranger, haughti- ly, " I see no reason I should do so. — I am not," he ad- ded, in his former tone, "your physician feed — I offer no advice — I only say it would he wise that you sought it." "And from whom, or where, can I obtain it?" said Peveril. " I wander in this country, like one in a dream ; so much a few months have changed it. Men who formerly occupied themselves with their own af- fairs, are now swallowed up in matters of state policy : and those tremble under the apprehension of some strange and sudden convulsion of empire, who were for- merly only occupied by the fear of going to bed supper- less. And to sum the matter, I meet a stranger, appa- rently well acquainted with my name and concerns, who first attaches himself to me, whether I will or no; and then refuses me explanation of his business, while he me~ naces me with the strangest accusations." " Had 1 meant such infamy," said the stranger, " be- lieve me, I had not given you the thread of my intrigue. But be wise, and come on with me. There is, hard by. a small inn, where, if you can take a stranger's warrant for it, we shall sleep in perfect security." " Yet yon yourself," said Peveril, " but now were anxious to avoid observation ; and in that case, how can you protect me ?" " Psha ! 1 did but silence that tattling landlady, in the way in which such people are most readily hushed ; and for Topham, and his brace of night owls, they must hawk at other and lesser game than I should prove." Peveril could not help admiring the easy and confident indifference with which the stranger seemed to assume a superiority to all the circumstances of danger around him ; and after hastily considering the matter with him- self, came to the resolution to keep company with him for this night at least ; and to learn, if possible, who he really was, and to what party in the estate he was attach- ed* The. boldness and freedom of his talk seemed al PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 29.3 most inconsistent with his following the perilous, though at that time gainful trade of an informer. No doubt; s.uch persons assumed every appearance which could in- sinuate them into the confidence of their destined vic- fime ; but Julian thought he discovered in this man's manner, a wiid and reckless frankness, which he could not but connect with the idea of sincerity in the present ease. He therefore answered, after a moment's recol- lection, "I embrace your proposal, sir; although, by do- ing so, I am reposing a sudden, and perhaps an unwary, confidence. " u And what am I, then, reposing in you ?" said the stranger. " Is not our confidence mutual ?" "No; much the contrary. I know nothing of you whatever — you have named me ; and. knowing me to be Julian Peveril, know you may travel with meln perfect tfecuritf." " The devil I do !" answered his companion. " I tra- vel in the same security as with a lighted petard, which I may expect to explode every moment. Are you not the son of Peveril of the Peak, with whose name Prelacy and Popery are so closely allied, that no old woman of either sex in Derbyshire, concludes her prayer without a petition to be freed from all three ? And do you not < ome from the Popish Countess of Derby, bringing, for aught 1 know, a whole army of Manxmen in your pocket, with full complement of arms, ammunition, baggage, and a train of field artillery?" -•It is not very likely I should be so poorly mounted," said Julian laughing, "if I had such a weight to carry. But lead on, sir. 1 see I must wait for your confidence, till you think proper to confer it ; for you are already so well acquainted with my affairs, that I have nothing to offer you in exchange for it." "Allons, then," said his companion ; '-give your horse (he spur, and raise the curb rein, lest he measure the ground with his nose, instead of his paces. We are not now more than a furlong or two from the place of enter- tainment." > They mended their pace accordingly, and soon arrived at the small solitary inn which the traveller had mentioned. 294 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. When its light began to twinkle before them, the stran ger, as if recollecting something he had forgotten, "B> the way, you must have a name to pass by ; for it may be ill travelling under your own, as the fellow who keep.- this house is an old Cromwellian. What will you call yourself? — My name is — for the present — Ganlesse." " There is no occasion to assume a name at all." an- swered Julian, " I do not incline to use a borrowed one, especially as I may meet with some one who knows mj own." " I will call you Julian, then," said Master Ganlesse ; Ci for Peveril will smell, in the nostrils of mine host, ol idolatry, conspiracy, Smithfield faggots, fish upon Fridays the murder of Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, and the fire ot purgatory." As he spoke thus, they alighted under the great broad- branched oak tree, which served to canopy the ale-beneij. which, at an earlier hour, had groaned under the weigh* of a frequent conclave of rustic politicians. Ganlesse, as he dismounted, whistled in a particularly shrill note, and was answered from within the house. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 295' CHAPTER XXL He was a fellow in a peasant's garb ; Yet one could censure you a woodcock's carving; Like any courtier at the ordinary. The. Ordinary. The person who appeared at the door of the little inn to receive Ganlesse, as we mentioned in our last chapter, sang, as he came forward, this scrap of an old ballad, — " Good even to you, Diccon ; And how have you sped ? Bring- you the bonny bride To banquet and bed '" To which Ganlesse answered, in the same tone and ■ — u Content thee, kind Robin ; He need little care, Who brings home a fat buck Instead of a hare." "You have missed your blow, then." said the other, in reply. •I tell you I have not," answered Ganlesse; "but you will think of nought but your own thriving occupa- tion — May the plague that belongs to it stick to it ! though it hath been the making of thee." " A man must live, Diccon Ganlesse," said the other., " Well, well," said Ganlesse, " bid my friend welcome, tor my sake. Hast thou got any supper ?" ''Reeking like a sacrifice — Chaubert has done his best. That fellow is a treasure ! give him a farthing candle, and he will cook a good supper with it. — Come in. sir. My friend's friend is welcome, as we say in my country." u We must have our horses looked to first," said Pe^ reriJ, who began to be considerably uncertain about the character of his companions — " that done. I am for you." Ganlesse gave a second whistle ; a groom appeared, who took charge of both their horses, and they them- ^Ives entered the inn. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. The ordinary room of a poor inn seemed to have un- dergone some alterations, to render it lit for company oi a higher description. There were a beaufet, a couch, and one or two other pieces of furniture, of a stile in- consistent with the appearance of the place. The ta- ble-cloth, which was ready laid, was of the finest da- mask ; and the spoons, forks, &c. were of silver. Pe- veril looked at this apparatus with some surprise, and again turning his eyes attentively upon his travelling com- panion Ganlesse, he could not help discovering, (by the aid of imagination, perhaps,) that though insignificant in person, plain in features, and dressed like one in indigence, there lurked still about his person and manners, that in- definable ease of manner which belongs only to men oi birth and quality, or to those who are in the constant ha- bit of frequenting the best company. His companion, whom he called Will Smith, although tall, and rather good-looking, besides being much better dressed, had not. nevertheless, exactly the same ease of demeanour ; and was obliged to make up for tlie want, by an additional proportion of assurance. Who these two persons could be, Peveril could not attempt even to form a guess. There was nothing for it, but to watch their manner and conversation. After speaking a moment in whispers, Smith said to his companion, " We must go look after our nags for ten minutes, and allow Chaubert to do his office." " Will he not appear and minister before us, then ?" said Ganlesse. " What, he ? — he shift a trencher — he hand a cup ?— no, you forget whom you speak of. Such an order were caough to make him fall on his own sword — he is al- ready on the borders of despair, because no craw-fish are to be had." < k Alack-a-d?y !" replied Ganlesse. " Heaven forbid I should add to such a calamity ! To stable, then, and see we how our steeds eat their provender, while ours is getting ready." They adjourned to the stable accordingly, which, though a poor one, had been hastily supplied with what ever was necessary for the accommodation of four ex- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 297 cellent horses ; one of which, that from which Ganlesse was just dismounted, the groom we have mentioned, wa> cleaning and dressing by the light of a huge wax candle. " 1 am still so far Catholic," said Ganlesse, laughing, as he saw that Peveril noticed this piece of extravagance. ;t My horse is my saint, and I dedicate a candle to him." " Without asking so great a favour for mine, which I see standing behind yonder old hencoop," replied Peve- ril, " I will at least relieve him of his saddle and bridle." " Leave him to the lad of the inn," said Smith : " he is not worthy any other person's handling : and I pro- mise you, if you slip a single buckle, you will so flavor oJ that stable duty, that you might as well eat roast-beef a- ragouts, for any relish you will have of them." " I love roast-beef as well as ragouts, at any time," said Pevenl. adjusting himself to a task which every young man should know how to perform when need is : " and my horse, though it be but a sorry jade, will champ better on hay and corn, than on an iron bit." While he was unsaddling his horse, and shaking down some litter for the poor wearied animal, he heard Smith observe to Ganlesse, — " By my faith, Dick, thou hast fallen into poor Slender's blunder ; missed Anne Page, and brought us a great lubberly post-master's boy." " Hush, he will hear thee," answered Ganlesse ; " there are reasons for all things — it is well as it is. But, prithee, tell thy fellow to help the youngster." " What," replied Smith, " d'ye think I am mad ?— Ask Tom Beacon — Tom of Newmarket — Tom of ten thousand, to touch such a four-legged brute as that ?— - Why, he would turn me away on the spot— discard me, i'faith. It was all he would do to take in hand your own, my good friend ; and if you consider him not the better, you are like to stand groom to him yourself to- morrow." " Well, Will," answered Ganlesse, " I will say thar for thee, thou hast a set of the most useless, scoundrelly, insolent vermin about thee, that ever eat up a poor gen- tlemen's revenues." ', ; Useless ? I deny it ?" replied Smith. " Every one of my fellows does something or other, so exquisitely? 298 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. that it were sin to make him do any tiling else — it i.- jour jacks-of-all- trades who are masters of none. — But hark to Chaubert's signal ! The coxcomb is tvvangling ii on the lute, to the tune of Eveillez vous, belle endonnie. Come, Master What d'ye call, (addressing Peveril,) — get ye some water, and wash this filthy witness from your hand, as Betterton says in the play : for Chaubert's cookery is like Friar Bacon's Head — time is — time was • — time will soon be no more." So saying, and scarce allowing Julian time to dip his hands in a bucket, and dry them on a horse cloth, he hurried him from the stable back to the supper cham- ber. Here all was prepared for their meal, with an epicu- rean delicacy, which rather belonged to the saloon of a palace, than the cabin in which it was displayed. Four dishes of silver, with covers of the same metal, smoked on the table : and three seats were placed for the com- pany. Beside the lower end of the board, was a small side-table, to answer the purpose of what is now called a dumb waiter ; on which several flasks reared their tall, stately, and swan-like crests, above glasses and rummers* Clean covers were also placed within reach ; and a small travelling-case of morocco, hooped with silver, displayed a number of bottles, containing the most approved sauces that culinary ingenuity had then invented. Smith, who occupied the lower seat, and seemed to act as president of the feast, motioned the two travellers (o take their places and begin. " 1 would not stay a grace-time," he said, " to save a whole nation from per- dition. We could bring no chauffettes with any conve- nience ; and even Chaubert is nothing, unless his dishe? are tasted in the very moment of projection. Come, uncover, and let us see what he has done for us.— Hum ! — ha ! — ay — squab pigeons — wild-fowl — young chickens venison cutlets — and a space in the centre, wet, alas, by a gentle tear from Chaubert's eye, where should have been the soiipe (Pccrivisses ! The zeal of that poor fel- low is but ill repaid by his paltry ten louis per month." " A mere trifle," said Ganlesse ; " but like yourself. Will, he serves a generous master." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 299 The repast now commenced ; and Julian, though he had seen his young friend the Earl of Derby, and other gallants, affect a considerable degree of interest and skill in the science of the kitchen, and was not himself either an enemy or a stranger to the pleasures of a good table, found, that, on the present occasion, he was a mere no- vice. Both his companions, but Smith in especial, seemed to consider that they were now engaged in the only true and real business of life ; and weighed all its minufa with a proportional degree of accuracy. To carve the morsel in the most delicate manner — and to apportion the proper seasoning with the accuracy of a chemist — to be aware, exactly, of the order in which one dish should succeed another, and to do plentiful justice to all — was a minuteness of science to which Julian had hitherto been a stranger. At length Ganlesse paused, and declared the supper exquisite. " But, my friend Smith," he added, " are your wines curious ? When you brought all that trash of plates and trumpery into Derbyshire, 1 hope you did not leave us at the mercy of the strong ale of the shire, as thick and muddy as the squires who drink it?" " Did I not know that you were to meet me, Dick Ganlesse ?" answered their host. " And can you sus- pect me of such an omission ? It is true, you must make Champagne and Claret serve, for my Burgundy would not bear travelling. But if you have a fancy for sherry, or Vin de Cahors, I have a notion Chaubert and Tom Beacon have brought some for their own drinking." " Perhaps the gentlemen would not care to impart," said Ganlesse. " Oh, fie ! — any thing in the way of civility," replied Smith. u They are, in truth, the best natured lads alive, when treated respectfully ; so that if you would prefer — " " By no means," said Ganlesse — " a glass of Cham- pagne will serve in a scarcity of better." •• The cork* shall start obsequious to my thumb, ' : said Smith ; and as he spoke, he untwisted the wire, and the cork struck the roof of the cabin. Each guest took a large rummer glass of the sparkling beverage, which IV- .300 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. veril had judgment and experience enough to pronounce exquisite. " Give me your hand, sir,' 5 said Smith ; " it is the first word of sense you have spoken this evening." " Wisdom, sir," replied Peveril, " is like the best ware in the pedlars pack, which he never produces till he knows his customer." "Sharp as mustard." returned the bon vivant ; "but be wise, most noble pedlar, and take another rummer of this same flask, which you see I have held in an oblique position for your service — not permitting it to retrograde to the perpendicular. Nay, take it off before the bubble bursts on the rim, and the zest is gone." " You do me honour, sir," said Peveril, taking the se- cond glass. " I wish you a better office than that of my cup-bearer." " You cannot wish Will Smith one more congenial to his nature," said Ganlesse. " Others have a selfish de- light in the objects of sense. Will thrives, and is hap- py, by imparting them to others." " Better help men to pleasures than to pains, Master Ganlesse," answered Smith, somewhat angrily. "Nay, wrath thee not, Will," said Ganlesse; "and speak no words in haste, lest you may have cause to re- pent at leisure. Do 1 blame thy social concern for the pleasures of others ? Why, man, thou doest therein most philosophically multiply thine own. A man has but one throat, and can but eat, with his best efforts, some five or six times a-day; but thou dinest with every friend that cuts up a capon, and art quaffing wine in other men *s gullets, from morning to night — et sic de cceteris." " Friend Ganlesse," returned Smith, " I prithee be- ware — thou knowest I can cut gullets as well as tickle them." " Ay, Will," answered Ganlesse, carelessly ; " I think I have seen thee wave thy whinyard at the throat of a Hogan-Mogan — a Netherlandish weasand, which ex- panded only on thy natural and mortal objects of aver- sion — Dutch cheese, rye-bread, pickled-herring, onions, and Geneva." " For pity's sake, forbear the description !" said Smith ; ?EVERIL OF THE TEAK, 301 '•thy words overpower the perfumes, and flavour the apartment like a dish of salmagundi!" u But for ?n epiglottis like mine," continued Ganlesse, "down which the most delicate morsels are washed by ^ vol. i. 26 302 FEVEItIL OF THE PEAK. their festivity, as he hoped in its progress something might occur to enable him to judge of the character and purposes of his companions. But he watched them in vain. Their conversation was animated and lively, and often bore reference to the literature of the period, in which the elder seemed particularly well skilled. The) also talked freely of the court, and of that numerous class of gallants who were then described as "men of wit and pleasure about town;" and to whom it seemed probable they themselves appertained. At length the universal topic of the Popish Plot wa> started ; upon which Ganlesse and Smith seemed to en- tertain the most opposite opinions. Ganiesse, if he did not maintain the authority of Oates in its utmost extent, contended that at least it was confirmed in a great mea- sure by the murder of Sir Edmundsbury Godfrey, and the letters written by Coleman to the confessor of the French King. With much more noise, and less power of reasoning. Will Smith hesitated not to ridicule and run down the whole discovery, as one of the wildest and most cause- less alarms which had ever been sounded in the ears of a credulous public. " I shall never forget," he said, " Sir Godfrey's most original funeral. Two bouncing parsons, well armed with sword and pistol, mounted the pulpit, to secure alhird fellow who preached from being murdered in the face of the congregation. Three parsons in one pulpit — three suns in one hemisphere — no wonder men stood aghast at such a prodigy." "What then, Will," answered his companion, "you are one of those who think the good knight murdered himself, in order to give credit to the plot?" " By my faith not I," said the other; "but some true blue Protestant might do the job for him, in order to give the thing a better colour, — 1 will be judged by our silent friend, whether that be not the most feasible solution of the whole." " I pray you, pardon me, gentlemen," said Julian ; " I am but just landed in England, and am a stranger to the particular circumstances which have thrown the na- PEVERIL OP THE PEAK, 303 Cion into such ferment. It would be the highest degree of assurance in me to give my opinion betwixt gentlemen who argue the matter so ably ; besides, to say truth, I confess weariness — your wine is more potent than I ex- pected, or I have drank more of it than I meant to do." "Nay, if an hour's nap will refresh you," said the elder of the strangers. " make no ceremony with us. Your bed — all we can offer as such — is that old-fashion- ed Dutch-built sofa, as the last new phrase calls it. Wc shall be early stirrers to-morrow morning." "And that we may be so," said Smith, "I propose that we do sit up all this night — I hate lying rough, and detest a paliet-bed. So have at another flask, and the newest lampoon to help it out — Now a plague of thoir votes Upon papists and plots, Aud be d — d Doctor Oates. To I de vol, " Nay, but our Puritannic host," said Ganlesse. u I have him in my pocket, man — his eyes, ears, nose, and tongue," answered his boon companion, " are all in my possession." " In that case, when you give him back his eyes and nose, I pray you keep his ears and tongue," answered Ganlesse. "Seeing and smelling are organs sufficient for such a knave — to speak and hear, are things he -hould have no manner of pretensions to." " I grant you it were well done," answered Smith ; "but it were a robbing of the hangman and the pillory : and I am an honest fellow, who would give Dun and the devil his due. So All joy to great Caesar, Long life, love, and pleasure ; May the King live for ever, 'Tis no matter for us, boys." While this Bacchanalian scene proceeded, Julian had wrapt himself closely in his cloak, and stretched himself on the couch which they had showed to him. He looked towards the table he had left — the tapers seemed to be- 304 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. come hazy and dim as he gazed — he heard the sound of voices, but they ceased to convey any impression to his understanding; and in a few minutes, he was faster asleep than he had ever been in the whole course > of his life, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. CHAPTER XXII. The Gordon then his bugle blew. And said, awa, awa : The House of Rhodis i§ all on flame, I hauld it time to ga". Old Ballad. When Julian awakened the next morning, all was still and vacant in the apartment. The rising sun. which -bone through the half closed shutters, showed some re- iiquesof the last night's banquet, which his confused and throbbing head assured him had been carried into a de- bauch. Without being much of a boon companion, Julian, like other young men of the time, was not in the habit of shunning wine, which was then used in considerable quantities; and he could not help being surprised, that the few cups he had drunk over night had produced on his frame the effects of excess. He rose up. adjusted his dies?, and sought the apartment for water to perform his morning ablutions, but without success. Wine there was on the table ; and beside it one stool stood, and another lay, as if thrown down in the heedless riot of the evening. ely, he thought to himself, the wine must have been v powerful, which rendered me insensible to the noise im\ companions must have made ere they finished their ►use. With momentary suspicion he examined his weapons, :»nd the packet which he had received from the Countess, | kepi in a secret pocket of his upper-coat, bound ise about his person. All was safe ; and the yery ope- ion reminded him of the duties which lay before him. ! [<• left the apartment where they had supped, and went into another, wretched enough, where, in a truckle-bed, I : etched two bodies, covered with a rug, the heads belonging to which were amicably deposited upon the same truss of hay. The one was the black shock head he groom : the other, graced with a long thrumb night- rap, showed a grizzled pate, and a grave caricatured countenance, which the hook-nose and lantern jaWs pro- i hiinel to belong to the CJailic minister of good cheer. 2G^ 306 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, whose praises he had heard sung forth on the preceding evening. These worthies seemed to have slumbered in the arms of Bacchus as well as of Morpheus, for there were broken flasks on the floor ; and their deep snoring alone showed that they were alive. Bent upon resuming his journey, as duty and expe- dience alike dictated, Julian next descended the trap- stair, and essayed a door at the bottom of the steps. It was fastened within. He called — no answer was re- turned. It must be, he thought, the apartment of the revellers, now probably sleeping as soundly as their de^ pendants still slumbered, and as he himself had done a few minutes before. Should he awaken them ? — To what purpose ? They were men with whom accidenl had involved him against his own will ; and situated as he was, he thought it wise to take the e:\rliest opportu- nity of breaking off from society, which was suspicious and might be perilous. Ruminating thus, he essayed another door, which admitted him to a bedroom, where lay another harmonious slumberer. The mean utensils, pewter measures, empty cans and casks, with which this room was lumbered, proclaimed it that of the host, who slept, surrounded by his professional implements of hos- pitality and stock in trade. This discovery relieved Peveril from some delicate embarrassment which he had formerly entertained. He put upon the table a piece of money, sufficient, as he judged, to pay his share of the preceding night's reckon- ing ; not caring to be indebted for his entertainment to the strangers, whom he was leaving without the formality of an adieu. His conscience cleared of this gentleman-like scruple. Peveril proceeded with a light heart, though somewhat a dizzy head, to the stable, which he easily recognised among a few other paltry out-houses. His horse, re- freshed with rest, and perhaps not unmindful of his ser- vices the evening before, neighed as his master entered the stable ; and Peveril accepted the sound as an omen of a prosperous journey. He paid the augury with a sieve full of corn ; and, while his palfrey profited by his attention, walked into the fresh air to cool his heated blood, and consider what coarse he should pursue in or FEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 307 der to reach the Castle of Martindale before sunset. Hi? acquaintance with the country in general, gave him confi- dence that he could not have greatly deviated from the nearest road ; and with his horse in good condition, he conceived he might easily reach Martindale before night- fall. Having adjusted his route in his mind, he returned into the stable to prepare his steed for the journey, and soon led him into the ruinous court-yard of the inn, bridled, saddled, and ready to be mounted. But as Peveril'? hand was upon the mane, and his left foot in the stirrup, a hand touched his cloak, and the voice of Ganlesse said. •• What, Master Peveril. is this your foreign breeding ? or have you learned in France to take French leave of your friends." Julian started like a guilty thiug. although a moment's reflection assured him that he was neither wrong nor in danger. " I cared not to disturb you," he said, " al- though I did come as far as the door of your chamber. I supposed your friend and you might require, after our last night's revel, rather sleep than ceremony. I \e{t my owii bed. though a rough one, with more reluctance than usual ; and as my occasions oblige me to be an early traveller, I thought it best to depart without leave-taking. I have left a token for mine host, on the table of his apartment." " It was unnecessary," said Ganlesse ; " the rascal is already overpaid. — But are you not rather premature in your purpose of departing ? My mind tells me that Master Julian Peveril had better proceed with me to London, than turn aside for any purpose whatever. You may see already, that I am no ordinary person, but a master-spirit of ihe time. For the cuckoo 1 travel with, and whom T indulge in his prodigal foMies. he also has his uses. But you are of a different cast; and I not only would serve you. but even wish you to be my own." Julian gazed on this singular person when he spoke. We have already said his figure was mean and slight, with very ordinary and unmarked features, unless we were to distinguish the lightenings of a keen grey eye. winch corresponded in its careless and prideful glance, with the haughty superiority which the stranger assumed ,308 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. in his conversation, ft was not till after a momentary pause, that Julian replied, "Can you wonder, sir, that in my circnmstances — if they are indeed known to you — 1 should decline unnecessary confidence on the affairs of moment which have called me hither, or refuse the com- pany of a stranger, who assigns no reason for desiring mine ?" " Be it as you list, young man," answered Ganlesse ; - only remember hereafter, you had a fair offer — it is not every one to whom I would have made it. If we should meet hereafter, on other, and on worse terms, impute it to yourself, and not to me." " 1 understand not your threat," answered Peveril, " if a threat be indeed implied. I have done no evil — I feel no apprehension — and I cannot, in common sense, con- ceive why I should suffer for refusing my confidence to a stranger, who seems to require that I should submit me blindfold to his guidance." " Farewell, then, Sir Julian of the Peak, — that may soon be," said the stranger, removing the hand which he had as yet left carelessly on the horse's bridle. " How mean you by that phrase ?" said Julian ; " and why apply such a title to me ?" The stranger smiled, and only answered, "Here our conference ends. The way is before you. You will find it longer and rougher thai* that by which I would have guided you." So saying, Ganlesse turned his back and walked to- ward the house. On the threshold he turned about oik e more, and seeing that Peveril had not yet moved horn the spot, he again smiled and beckoned to him ; but Julian, recalled by that sign to recollection, spurred his horse, and set forward on his journey. If \vas not long ere his locai acquaintance with the country enabled him to regain the road to Martindale, from which he had diverged on the preceding evening for about two miles. But the roads, or rather the paths. of this wild country, so much satirized by their native poet, Cotton, were so complicated in some places, so difficult to be traced in others, and so unfit for hasty travelling in almost a!!, that, in spite of Julian's utmost Exertions, and though he made no longer delay upon the TEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 309 journey than was necessary to bait his horse at a small hamiet through which he passed at noon, it was night- fall ere he reached an eminence, from which an hour sooner, the battlements of Martindale-Castie would have been visible ; and where, when they were hid in night, their situation was indicated by a light constantly main- tained in a lofty tower, called the Warder's Turret ; and which domestic beacon had acquired through all the neighbourhood, the name of Peveril's Pole-star. This was regularly kindied at curfew toll, and suppli- ed with as much wood and charcoal as maintained the light till sunrise ; and at no period was the ceremonial omitted, saving during the space intervening between the death of a Lord of the Castle and his interment. When this last event had taken p ace, the nightly beacon was rekindled with some ceremony, and continued till fate called the successor to sleep with his fathers. It is not known from what circumstances the practice of main- taining this light originally sprung. Tradition spoke of it doubtfully. Some thought it was the signal of general hospitality, which, in ancient times, guided the wander- ing knight, or the weary pilgrim, to rest and refreshment. Others spoke of it as a " love-lighted watch-fire," by which the provident anxiety of a former lady of Martin- dale guided her husband homewards through the terrors of a midnight storm. The less favourable construction of unfriendly neighbours of the dissenting persuasion, as- cribed the origin and continuance of this practice, to the assuming pride of the family of Peveril, who thereby chose to intimate their ancient suzerainte over the whole country, in the manner of the admiral, who carries the lantern in the poop, for the guidance of the fleet. And in the former times, our old friend, Master Solsgrace, dealt from the pulpit many a hard hit against Sir Geof- frey, as he that had raised his horn, and set up his can- dlestick on high. Certain it is, that all the Peveril?. from father to son, had been especially attentive to the maintenance of this custom, as something intimately con- nected with the dignity of their family ; and in the hands o(Sir Geoffrey, the observance was not like to be omitted. Accordingly, the polar-star of Peveril had continued to beam more or less brightly during all the vicissitudes 310 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. of the Civil War; and glimmered, however faintly, during the subsequent period of Sir Geoffrey's depres- sion. But he was often heard to say, aud sometimes to swear, that while there was a perch of woodland left to the estate, the old beacon-grate shouid not lack re- plenishing. All this his son Julian well knew : and therefore it was with no ordinary feelings of surprise and anxiety, that, looking in the direction of the Castle, he perceived that the li^ht was not visible. He halted — - rubbed his eyes — shifted his position — and endeavoured, in vain, to persuade himself that he had mistaken the point from which the polar-star of his house was visible, or that some newly intervening obstacle, the growth of a plantation, perhaps, or the erection of some building, intercepted the light of the beacon. But a moment's reflection assured him, that from the high and free situa- tion which Martindale-Castle bore in reference to the surrounding country, this could not have taken place, and the inference necesarily forced itself upon his mind, that Sir Geoffrey, his father, was either diseased, or that the family must have been disturbed by some strange ca- lamity, under the pressure of which, their wonted custom, and solemn usage, had been neglected. Under the influence of undefinable apprehension, young Peveril now struck the spurs into his jaded steed, and forcing him down the broken and steep path, at a pace which set safety at defiance, he arrived at the vil- lage of Martindale-Moultrassie, eagerly desirous to as- certain the cause of this ominous eclipse. The street, through which his tired horse paced slow and reluctantly, was now deserted and empty; and scarce a candle twinkled from a casement, excepting from the latticed window of the little inn, called the Peveril Arms, from which a broad light shone, and several voices were heard in rude festivity. Before the door of this inn, the jaded palfrey, guided by the instinct or experience which makes a hackney well acquainted with the outside of a house of entertain- ment, made so sudden and determined a pause, that not- withstanding his haste, the rider thought it best to dis- mount, expecting to be read.y supplied with a fresh horse 4>y Roger Raine, the landlord, the ancient depend- PEVERIL OF THE FEAK. 311 ant of his family. He also wished to relieve his anxiety, by inquiring concerning the state of things at the Castle, when he was surprised to hear, bursting from the tap- room of the loyal old host, a well known song of the Commonwealth time, which some puritanical wag had written in reprehension of the Cavaliers, and their disso- lute courses, and in which his father came in for a lash of the satirist. Ye thought in the world there was no power to tame ye, So you tippled and drab'd till the saints overcame ye, ■' Forsooth," and " .Ne'er stir," sir, have vanquished, " G — d — n me.' Which nobody can deny. There was bluff old Sir Geoffrey loved brandy aud mum well, And to see a beer-glass turned over the thumb well ; But he fled like the wind, before Fairfax and Cromwell, Which nobody can deny. Some strange revolution, Julian was aware, must have taken place, both in the village and in the Castle, ere these sounds of unseemly insult could have been poured fourth in the very inn which was decorated with the ar- morial bearings of his family, and not knowing how far it might be adviseable to intrude on these uufriendly re- vellers, without the power of repelling or chastising their insolence, he led his horse to a back door, which, as he recollected, communicated with the landlord's apart- ment, determined to make private inquiry at him con- cerning the state of matters at the Castle. He knocked repeatedly, and as often called on Roger Raine with an earnest but stifled voice. At length a female voice re- plied, by the usual inquiry, " Who is there ?" "It is I, Dame Raine — I, Julian Peveril — tell your husband to come to me presently." " Alack, and a well-a-day, Master Julian, if it be real- ly you — you bre to know my poor good man has gone where he can come to no one ; but, doubtless, we shall all go to him, as Matthew Chamberlain says." "He is dead, jthen ?" said Julian. " 1 am extremely sorry " " Dead six months and more. Master Julian, and let me tell you, it is a long time for a lone woman, as Mat Chamberlain says." " Well, do you or your chamberlain undo the door. 1 want a fresh horse ; and I want to know how things are at the Castle." 31 2 PEVERIL OP THE TEAK. " The Castle — lack.a-day ! — Chamberlain — Matthew Chamberlain — I say Mat!" Mat Chamberlain apparently was at no great distance, for he presently answered her call ; and Peveril, as he stood close to the door, could hear them whispering to each other, and distinguish in a great measure what they said. And here it may be noticed, that Dame Raine. accustomed to submit to the authority of old Roger, who vindicated as well the husband's domestic prerogative, as that of the monarch in the state, had, w r hen left a buxom widow, been so far incommoded by the exercise of her newly acquired independence, that she had recourse, upon all occasions, to the advice of Mat Chamberlain : and as Mat began no longer to go slipshod, and in a red night-cap, but wore Spanish shoes, and a high-crowned beaver, (at least of a Sunday,) and moreover was called Master Matthew by his fellow-servants, the neighbours in the village argued a speedy change of the name on the sign-post ; nay, perhaps, of the very sign itself, for Mat- thew was a bit of a Puritan, and no friend to Peveril of the Peak. " Now counsel me, an' you be a man, Mat Chamber- laid," said Widow Raine ; "for never stir, if here be not Master Julian's own self, and he wants a horse, and what not, and all as if things were as they wont to be." •• Why, dame, an ye will walk by counsel," said the Chamberlain, " e'en shake him off — let him be jogging while his boots are green. . This is no world for folks to scald their fingers in other folks' broth." "And that is well spoken, truly;" answered Dame Raine ; " But then, look you, Mat, we have eaten their bread, and, as my poor good man used to say " " Nay, nay, dame, they that walk by the counsel of the dead, shall have none of the living; and so you may do as you list; but if you will walk by mine, drop latch, and draw bolt, and bid him seek quarters farther — that is my counsel." " I desire nothing of you sirrah," said Peveril, " save but to know how r Sir Geoffrey and his lady do ?" " Lack-a-day! — lack-a-day!" in a tone of sympathy, was the only answer he received from the landlady ; and the conversation betwixt her and her Chamberlain was resumed, but in a tone too low r to be overheard. PEVERIL 0E THE PEAK. 31 J At length Mat Chamberlain spoke aloud, and with a lone of authority : " We undo no doors at this time of flight, for it is against the Justices' orders, and might rust us our license ; and for the Castle, the road up to it lies before you, and I think you know it as well as we do." " And I know you," said Peveril, remounting his wearied horse, " for an migrate ful churl, whom, on the first opportunity, I will cudgel you to a mummy." To this menace Matthew* made no reply, and Peve- ril presently heard him leave the apartment, after a few earnest words betwixt him and his mistress. Impatient at this delay, and at the evil omen implied in these people's conversation and deportment, Peveril, after some vain spurring of his horse, which positively refused to move a step farther, dismounted once more and was about to pursue his journey on foot, notwith- standing the extreme disadvantage under which the high riding boots of the period laid those who attempted to walk with such encumbrances, when he was stopped by a gentle call from the window. Her counsellor was no sooner gone, than the good- nature and habitual veneration of the dame for the house of Peveril, and perhaps some fear for her counsellor's hones, induced her to open the casement, and cry, but in a low* and timid tone, •■ Hist! hist ! Master Julian — be you gone ?" ".Not yet, dame," said Julian; " though it seems my stay is unwelcome." -* Nay, but good young master, it is because men counsel so differently ; for here was my poor old Roger Maine would have thought the chimney corner too cold for you : and here is Mat Chamberlain thinks the cold court-yard is warm enough." - Never mind that dame," said Julian ; " do but only icll me what has happened at Martindale Castle? I see the beacon is extinguished." " Is it in troth ? — ay, like enough — then good Sir Geoffrey is gone to Heaven with my old Roger^Raine !" " Sacred Heaven !" exclaimed Peveril : " when was my father taken ill ?" vol. i. 21 M4 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " Never, as I knows of," said the Dame; "but, about three hours since, arrived a party at the Castle, with buff-coats and bandaliers, and one of the Parlia- ment's folks, like in Oliver's time. My old Roger Raine would have shut the gates of the inn against. them, but he is in the church-yard, and Mat says it is against law ; and so they came in and refreshed men and horse, and sent for Master Bridgenorth, that is ai Moultrassie Hall even now ; and so they went up to the Castle, and there was a fray, it is like, as the old knight was no man to take napping, as poor Roger Raine used to say. Always the officers had the best on't ; and reason there is, since they had law of their side, as our Matthew says. But since the pole-star of the Castle is out, as your honour says, why, doubtless, ♦he old gentleman is dead." " Gracious Heaven ! — Dear dame, for love or gold, let me have a horse to make for the Castle." " The Castle?" said the dame ; the Round-heads, as my poor Roger called them, will kill you as they have killed your father ! Better creep into the wood-house, and I will send Bett with a blanket and some supper — Or stay — my old Dobbin stands in the little stable be- side the hen-coop — e'en take him, and make the best of your way out of the country, for there is no safety here for you. Hear what songs some of them are singing at the tap ! — so take Dobbin, and do not forget to leave your own horse instead." . Peveril waited to hear no further, only? that just as he turned to go off to the stable, the compassionate fe- male was heard to exclaim, — " Lord ! what will Matthew Chamberlain say r' but instantly added, " Lei him say what he will, I may dispose of what's mv own." With the haste of a double-fed hostler did Julian exchange the equipment of his jaded brute with poor -Dobbin", who stood quietly tugging at his rack full of hay, without dreaming of the business which was thai night destined for him. Notwithstanding the darkness ofthe place, Julian succeeded marvelous quickly in pre- paring for his journey ; and leaving his own horse to PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. olO find its way to Dobbin's rack by instinct, he leaped upon his new acquisition, and spurred him sharply against the hill, which rises steeply from the village to the Castle. Dobbin, little accustomed to such exertions, snorted, panted, and trotted as briskly as he could, un- til at length he brought his rider before the entrance gate of his father's ancient seat. The moon was now rising, but the portal was hidden from its beams, being situated, as we have mentioned elsewhere, in a deep recess betwixt two large flanking towers. Peveril dismounted, turned his horse loose, and advanced to the gate, which, contrary to his ex- pectation, he found was open. He entered the large court-yard ; and could then perceive that lights yet twinkled in the lower part of the building, although he had not before observed them, owing to the height of the outward walls. The main door, or great hall gate, as it was called, was, since the partially decayed state of the family, seldom opened, save on occasions of par- ticular ceremony. A smaller postern door served the purpose of ordinary entrance ; and to that Julian now repaired. This also was open — a circumstance which would of itself have alarmed him, had he not already had so many causes for apprehension. His heart sunk within him as he turned to the left, through a small outward hall, towards the great parlour, which the fa- mily usually occupied as a sitting apartment ; and his alarm became still greater, when, on a nearer approach. he heard proceeding from thence the murmur of seve- ral voices. He threw the door of the apartment wide : and the sight which was thus displayed, warranted all the evil bodings which he had entertained. In front of him stood the old knight, whose arms were strongly secured, over the elbows by a leathern belt drawn tight round them, and made fast behind ; two ruffianly looking men, apparently his guards, had hold of his doublet. The scabbardless sword which lay on the floor, and the empty sheath which hung by Sir Geoffrey's side, showed the stout old Cavalier had not been reduced to this state of bondage without an attempt at resistance. Two or three persons, having their backs turned towards Julian, sat round a table, and appeared 516 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. engaged in writing — the voices which he had heard were theirs, as they murmured to each other. Lady Peveril — the emblem of death, so pallid was her coun- tenance — stood at the distance of a yard or two from her husband, upon whom her eyes were fixed with an intenseness of gaze, like that of one who looks her lasl on the object which she loves the best. She was the first to perceive Julian ; and she exclaimed, " Merciful Heaven ! — my son ! — the misery of our house is com- i» plet< " My son !" echoed Sir Geoffrey, starting from the sullen state of dejection, and swearing a deep oath — " thou art come in the right time, Julian. Strike me one good blow — cleave me that traitorous thief from the crown to the brisket ; and that done I care not what comes next." The sight of his father's situation made the son for- get the inequality of the contest which he was about to provoke. " Villains," he said, " unhand him !" and rushing on the guards with his drawn sword, compelled them to lei go Sir Geoffrey, and stand on their own defence. Sir Geoffrey, thus far liberated, shouted to his lady, '•'Undo the belt, dame, and we will have three good blows for it yet — they must fight well that beat both father and son." But one of those men who had started up from the writing-table when the fray, commenced, prevented La- dy Peveril from rendering her husband this assistance ; while another easily mastered the hampered Knight, though not without receiving several severe kicks from his heavy boots — his condition permitting him no other mode of defence. A third, who saw that Julian, young, active, and animated with the fury of a son who fights for his parents, was compelling the two guards to give ground, seized on his collar, and attempted to master his sword. Suddenly dropping that weapon, and snatch- ing one of his pistols, Julian fired it at the head of the person by whom he was thus assailed. He did nol drop, bul staggering back as if he had received a se vert- blow, showed Peveril, as he sunk into a chair, the fea- tures of old Bridgenorth, blackened with the explosion PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. which had even set lire to a part of his grey hair. A cry of astonishment escaped from Julian ; and in the • alarm and horror of the moment, he was easily secured Mid disarmed by those with whom he had been at firsl ajkd» \ "Heed it not, Julian," said Sir Geoffrey : " heed it not. my brave boy — that shot has balanced all accounts ! — But how — what the devil — he lives ! — Was your pistol loaded with chafY ? or has the foul fiend given him proof against lead ?" There was some reason for Sir Geoffrey's surprise, of England ; and demand to know of what we are ac- cused, and by whose authority we are arrested?" " Here is another howlet for ye !" exclaimed the im- petuous old Knight-; " his mother speaks to a Puritan of charity ; and thou must talk of law to a round-headed rebel, with a wanion to you ! What warrant hath he. think ye, beyond the Parliament's or the devil's ?" " Who speaks of the Parliament?" said a person en- tering, whom Peveril recognised as the official person whom he had before seen at the horse-dealer's and who now bustled in with all the conscious dignity of plenary authority, — " Who talks of the Parliament ?" he ex- claimed. "I promise you, enough has been found in this house to convict twenty plotters — Here be arms. and that good store. Bring them in, Captain." ; ' The very same," exclaimed the Captain, approach- ing, " which I mention in my printed Narrative of In- formation, lodged before the Honourable House oi* Commons ; they were commissioned from old Vander Huys of Rotterdam, by orders of Don John of Austria, for the service of the Jesuits." " Now, by this light," said Sir Geoffrey ; " they are Hie pikes, musketoons, and pistols, that have been hid- den in the garret ever since Naseby-fight !" " And here," said the Captain's yoke fellow; Ever- ett, 'J are proper priest's trappings — antiphoners, and missals, and copes, I warrant you — ay, and proper pic- tures too, for Papists to mutter and bow over." " Now plague on thy snuffling whine," said Sir Geoffrey; "here is a rascal will swear my grandmo- ther's old farthingale to be priest's vestments and the story book of Owlenspiegel, a Popish missal !" •'But how's this, Master Bridgenorth?" said Topham, addressing the magistrate ; " your honour has been as busy as we have ; and you have caught another knave while we recovered these toys.'' 320 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " I think, sir," said Julian, " If you look into your warrant, which if I mistake not, names the persons whom you arc directed to arrest, you will find you have no title to apprehend me." " Sir," said the officer, puffing with important-- do not know who you are ; but I would yon were the best man in England, that I might teach you the respect due to the warrant of the House. Sir, there steps not the man within the British seas, but I will arrest him on authority of this bit of parchment ; and I do arrest you accordingly. — What do you accuse him of gentlemen ?" Dangerfield swaggered forward, and peeping under Julian's hat, " Stop my vital breath," he exclaimed, ' ' but I have seen you before my friend, an I could but think where ; but my memory is not worth a bean, since I have been obliged to use it so much of late, in the behalf of the poor state. But I do know the fellow : and I have seen him amongst the Papists — I'll take thai on my accursed damnation." " Why, Captain Dangerfield," said the Captain's smoother, but more dangerous associate, — " Verily, if is the same youth whom we saw at the horse merchant's to-day ; and we had matter against him then, only Master Topham did not desire us to bring it out."' " Ye may bring out what ye will against him now," said Topham, "for he hath blasphemed the warrant of the House. I think ye said ye saw him somewhere ?" ".Aye, verily," said Everett, "I have seen him amongst the seminary pupils at St. Omer's — he was who but he with the regents there." ■•' Nay, Master Everett, collect yourself," said Topham, •'for, as I think, you said you saw him at a consult of the Jesuits in London." i f It was I said so, Master Topham," said the undaunted Da ngerfield : ' i and mine is the tongue that will swear it. ' ' ''Good Master Topham," said Bridgenorth, "you may suspend further inquiry at present, as it doth but fatigue and perplex the memory of the King's witnesses, " " You are wrong, Master Bridgenorth, clearly wrong. It doth but keep them in wind, only breathes them like greyhounds before a coursing match.*' PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 321 ••Be it so," said Bridgenorth, with his usual indiffer- ence of manner; "but at present this youth mast stand committed upon a warrant, which I will presently sign, of having assaulted me while in discharge of my duty as a magistrate, for the rescue of a person legally attached. Did you not hear the report of a pistol." •• I will swear to it," said Everett. • • And I," said Dangerfield. "While we were making search in the cellar, I heard something very like a pistol- shot ; but I conceived it to be the drawing of a long- corked bottle of sack, to see whether there were any Popish reliques in the inside on't." "A pistol-shot!" exclaimed Topham ; "here might have been asecondSir Edmondbury Godfrey's matter. — Oh, thou real spawn of the red old dragon ! for he too would have resisted the House's warrant, had we not taken him something at unawares. Master Bridgenorth, you are a judicious magistrate, and a worthy servant of the state — I would we had many such sound Protestant justices. Shall I have this young fellow away with his parents — what think you? — or will you keep him for re-examination ?" "Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, in spite of her husband's efforts to interrupt her, "for God's sake, if ever you knew what it was to love one of the many children you have lost, or her who is now left to you, do not pursue your vengeanc to the blood of my poor boy ! I will forgive you all the rest — all the distress you have wrought — all the yet greater misery with "which you threaten us; but do not be extreme with one who never can have offended you . Believe that if your ears are shut against the cry of a despairing mother, those which are open to the complaint of all who sorrow, will hear my petition and your answer." The agony of mind and of voice with which Lady Peveril uttered these words, seemed to thrill through all present, though most of them were but too much inured to such scenes. Every one was silent, when, ceasing; to speak, she fixed on Bridgenorth her eyes, glistening with tears, with the eager anxiety of one whose life or death seemed to depend upon the answer PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. to be returned. Even Bridgenorth's inflexibility seemed to be shaken ; and his voice was tremulous, as he an- swered, "Madam I would to God I had the present means of relieving your great distress, otherwise than by recommending to you a reliance upon Providence ; and that you take heed to your spirit, that it murmur not under this crook in your lot. For me, I am but as a rod in the hand of the strongman, which smites not of itself, but because it is wielded by the arm of him who holds the same." " Even as I and my black rod are guided by the Com- mons of England," said Master Topham, who seemed marvellously pleased with the illustration. Julian now thought it time to say something in his own behalf; and he endeavoured to temper it with as much composure as it was possible for him to assume. "Master Bridgenorth," hesaid, "I neither dispute your your authority, nor this gentleman's warrant " " You do not?" said Topham. " ho, master young- ster, I thought we would bring you to your senses pre- sently." "Then if you so will it, Master Topham," said Bridgenorth, "thus shall it be. You shall set out with early day, taking with you towards London, the per- sons of Sir Geoffrey and Lady Peveril ; and that they may travel according to their quality, you will allow them their coach, sufficiently guarded." "I will travel with them myself," said Topham: "for these rough Derbyshire roads are no easy riding ; and my very eyes are weary with looking on these bleak hills. In the coach I can sleep as sound as if I were in the house, and Master Bodderbrains on his legs."- " It will become you so to take your ease, Master Topham," adswered Bridgenorth. " For this youth, I will take him under my charge, and bring him ?q) my- self," "'I may not be answerable for that, worthy Master Bridgenorth, since he comes within the warrant of the House." " Nay, but," said Bridgenorth, " he is only under custody for an assault, with the purpose of a rescue : and PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 323 T counsel you against meddling with him, unless you have stronger guard. Sir Geoffrey is now old and bro- ken, but this young fellow is in the flower of his youth, and hath at his beck all the debauched young Cavaliers of the neighbourhood — You will scarce cross the coun- try without a rescue.' 7 Topham eyed Julian wistfully, as a spider may be supposed to look upon a stray wasp which has got into his web, and which he longs to secure, though he fears the consequences of attempting him. Julian himself replied, "I know not if this separation be well or ill meant on your part, Master Bridgenorth ; but on mine, I am only desirous to share the fate ofmy parents ; and therefore I will give my word of honour to attempt neither rescue nor escape, on condition you do not separate me from them." • ; Do not say so, Julian," said his mother; "abide with Master Bridgenorth — my mind tells me he cannot mean so ill by us as his rough conduct would now lead us to infer." "And I," said Sir Geoffrey, " know/that between the. doors ofmy fathers's house and the gates of hell, there steps not such a villain on the ground ! And if I wish my hands ever to be unbound again, it is because I hope for one downright blow at a gray head, that has hatched more treason than the whole Long Parliament." •'Away with thee," said the zealous officer: -is Parliament a word for so foul a mouth as thine? — Gen- t iMiien," he added, turning to Everett and Dangerileld, •• you will bear witness to tins." " To his having reviled the House of Commons — by G — d, that I will !" said Dangerfield : "I will take it on my damnation." •* And verily," said Everett, "as he spoke of Par- iiamedMgeneraiiy, he hath contemned the House of Lords also." ••Why ye poor insignificant wretches," said Sir Geoffrey, " whose very life is a lie — and whose bread is perjury — would you pervert my innocent word's almost as soon as they have quitted my lips ? I tell you the country is well weary of you : and should Englishmi •324 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. come to their senses, the jail, the pillory, the whipping- post, and the gibbet, will be too good preferment foi such base bloodsuckers. xVnd now, Master Bridgenorth, you and they may do your worst ; for I will not open my mouth to utter a single word while I am in the com- pany of such knaves." " Perhaps, Sir Geoffrey," answered Bridgenorth, "'you would better have consulted your own safety in adopting that resolution a little sooner — the tongue is a iittle member, but it causes much strife. — You, Master Julian, will please td follow me, and without remon- strance or resistance, for you must be aware that I have the means of compelling." Julian was, indeed, but too sensible that he had no other course but that of submission to superior force : but ere he left the apartment, he kneeled down to re- ceive his father's blessing, which the old man bestowed not without a tear in his eye, and in the emphatic words, * k God bless thee, my boy; and keep thee good and true to Church and King, whatever wind shall bring foul weather." His mother was only able to pass her hand over his head, and to implore him, in a low tone of voice, not to be rash or violent in any attempt to render them assis- tance. "We are innocent," she said, '^my son — we are innocent — and we are in God's hands. Be the thought our best comfort and protection." Bridgenorth now signed to Julian to follow him, which he did, accompanied, or rather conducted, by the two guards who had first disarmed him. When they had passed from the apartment, and were at the door of the outward hall, Bridgenorth asked Julian whe- ther he would consider himself as under parole ; in which case, he said, he would dispense with nil other security but his own promise. Peveril, who could not help hoping somewnat from the favourable and unresentful manner in which he was treated by one whose life he had so recently attempted. replied, without hesitation, that he would give his pa- role for twenty-four hours, neither to attempt to escape by force nor by flight. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 325 "It is wisely said/*' replied Bridgenorth ; "for though you might cause bloodshed, be assured that your utmost efforts could do no service to your parents. — Horses there — horses to the court-yard !" The trampling of the horses was soori*heard ; and in obedience to Bridgenorth's signal, and in compliance with his promise, Julian mounted one which was pre- sented to him, and prepared to leave the house of his father's in which his parents were now prisoners, and to go, he knew not whither, under the custody of one known to be the ancient enemy of his race. He was rather surprised at observing, that Bridgenorth and he were about to travel without any other attendants. When they were mounted, and as they rode slowly towards the outer gate of the court-yard, Bridgenorth said to him, u It is not every one who would thus unre- servedly commit his safety, by travelling at night, and unaided, with the hot-brained youth who so lately at- tempted his life." k -Master Bridgenorth, " said Julian, "I might tell you truly, that I knew you not at the time when I di- rected my weapon against you ; but I must also add, that the cause in which I used it, might have rendered me, even had I known you, a slight respecter of your person. At present, I do know you ; and have neither malice against your person, nor the liberty of a parent to fight for. Besides, you have my word ; and when was a Pe- veril known to break it?" "Ay," replied his companion, "a Peveril — a Pe- veril of the Peak ! — a name which has long sounded like a war-trumpet in the land ; but which has now perhaps sounded its last loud note. Lookback, young man, on the darksome turrets of your fathers house, which uplift themsjkses as proudly on the brow of the hill, as their owneijpused themselves above the sons of their people. Think upon your father, a captive: — yourself, in some sort, a fugitive — your light quenched — your glory abased — your estate wrecked and impoverished. Think that Providence has subjected the destinies of the race o v f Peveril to one, whom, in their aristocratic pride* they held as a plebeian upstart. Think of this ; and vol. t. 28 '326 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. when you again boast of your ancestry, remember, that he who raiseth the lowly can also abase the high in heart.'' Julian did indeed gaze for an instant, with a swelling heart, upon the dimly-seen turrets of his paternal man- sion, on which poured the moonlight, mixed with lona; shadows of the towers and trees. But while he sadly acknowledged the truth of Bridgenorth's observation, he felt indignant at his ill-timed triumph. " If fortune had followed worth," he said, " the castle of Martin- dale, and the name of Peveril, had afforded no room for their enemy's vain-glorious boast. But those who have stood high on Fortune's wheel, must abide by the con- sequence of its revolutions. Thus much I will at least say for my father's house, that it has not stood unhon- oured ; nor will it fall — if it is to fall — unlamented. Forbear then, if you are indeed the Christian you call yourself, to exult in the misfortunes of others, or to confide in your own prosperity. If the light of our House be now quenched, God can rekindle it in his own good time." Peveril broke off in extreme surprise ; for as he spoke the last words, the bright red beams of the fami- ly beacon began again to glimmer from its wonted watch-tower, chequering the pale moon-beam with a ruddier glow. Bridgenorth also gazed on this unex- pected illumination with surprise, and not, as it seemed without disquietude. " Young man," he resumed. il it can scarcely be but what Heaven intends to work great things by your hand, so singularly has that au- gury followed on your words." So saying, he put his horse once more into motion : and looking back, from time to time, as if to assure himself that the beacon of the Castle was acidly re- kindled, he led the way through the well-kncroR paths and alleys, to his own house of Moultrassie, followed by Peveril, who, although sensible that the light might be altogether accidental, could not but receive as a good omen an event so intimately connected with the tradi- tions and usages of his family, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 327 They alighted at the hall-door, which was hastily opened by a female ; and while the deep tone of Bridgenorth called on the groom to take their horses, the well-known voice of his daughter Alice was heard to exclaim in thanksgiving to God, who had restored her father in safety. CHAPTER XXIII. We meet, as men see phantoms in a dream, Which glide, and sign, and sign, and move their lips, But make no sound ; or, if they utter voice, 'Tis but a low and undistinguished moaning, Which has nor word nor sense of utter' d sound. The Chief fain V\ e said, at the conclusion of the last chapter, that a female form appeared at the door of Moultrassie-Hall ; and tha^the well-known accents of Alice Bridgenorth were hSfrd to hail the return of her father, from what -he naturally dreaded as a perilous visit to the Castle of Martindale. Julian, who followed his conductor with a throbbing heart into the lighted hall, was therefore prepared to see her whom he best loved, with her arms thrown around her father. The instant she had quitted his paternal :J2o FEVERIL OF THE PEAK. embrace, she was aware of the unexpected guest who had returned in his company. A deep blush, rapidly succeeded by deadly paleness, and again by a slighter suffusion, showed plainly to her lover that his sudden appearance was any thing but indifferent to her. He bowed profoundly — a courtesy which she returned with equal formality, but did not venture to approach more nearly, feeling at once the delicacy of his own situation and of hers. Major Bridgenorth turned his cold, fixed, gray, me- lancholy glance, first on the one of them, and then on the other. " Some," he said, gravely, U would, in my case, have avoided this meeting ; but I have confidence in you both, although you are young, and beset with he snares incidental to your age. There are those with- in who should not know that ye have been acquainted. Wherefore, be wise, and be as strangers to each other.*" Julian and Alice exchanged glances as her father turned from them, and lifting a lamp which stood in the en- trance-hall, led the way to the interior apartment. There was little of consolation in this exchange of looks ; for the sadness of Alice's glance was mingled with fear, and that of Julian clouded by an anxious sense of doubt. The look also was but momentary ; for Alice, springing o her father, took the light out of his hand, and, step- ping before him, acted as the usher of both into the iarge oaken parlour, which has been already mentioned as the apartment in which Bridgenorth had spent the hours of dejection which followed the death of his con- tort and family. It was now lighted up as for the re- ception of company ; and five or six persons sat in it. in the plain, black, formal dress which was affected by the formal Puritans of the time, in evidence of their ontempt of the manners of the luxurious jjpurt of Charles the Second ; amongst whom, excess ofHftdrava- gance in apparel, like excesses of every other kind, was highly fashionable. Julian at first glanced his eyes but slightly along the range of grave and severe faces which composed this society — men, sincere perhaps in their pretensions to a Miperior purity of conduct and morals, hut in wh PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 329 that high praise was somewhat chastened by an affected austerity in dress and manners, allied to those Phari-. •>ees of old, w T ho made broad their phylacteries, and would be seen of men to fast, and to discharge with ri- gid punctuality the observances of the law. Their dress was almost uniformly a black cloak and doublet, rut straight and close, and undecorated with lace or em- broidery of any kind, black Flemish breeches and hose, square-toed shoes, with large roses made of serge rib- bon. Two or three had large loose boots of calf-leather, and almost every one was begirt with a long rapier, which was suspended by leathern thongs, to a plain belt of buff, or of black leather. One or two of the elder guests, whose hair had been thinned by time, had their heads covered with a scull-cap of black silk or velvet, which being drawn down betwixt the ears and the scull, and permitting no hair to escape, occasioned the former lo project in the ungraceful manner which may be re- marked in old pictures, and which procured for the Pu- ritans the term of " prick-eared round-heads," so un- ceremoniously applied to them by their contemporaries. These worthies were ranged against the wall, each in his ancient, high-backed, long-legged chair ; neither looking towards, nor apparently discoursing with each other : but plunged in their own reflections, or await- ing, like an assembly of quakers, the quickening power of divine inspiration. Major Bridgenorth glided along this formal society with noiseless step, and a composed severity of manner, resembling their own. He paused before each in suc- cession, and apparently communicated, as he passed, the transactions of the evening, and the circumstances un- der which the air of Martindale Castle was now a guesl at Moultrassie-Hall. Each seemed to stir at his brief detail, like a range of statues in an enchanted hall* -Parting into something like life, as a talisman is # applied to them successively. Most of them, as they heard the narrative of their host, cast upon Julian a look ot curiosity, blended with haughty scorn and the conscious* ness of spiritual superiority ; though, in one or two in- stances, the milder influences of compassion, were suffix 28 * ; oO PliVERlL 01 iiij: PEAK. cienjtly visible. — Pcvcril would have undergone this gauntlet of eyes with more impatience, had not his own been for the time engaged in following the motions of Alice, who glided through the apartment ; and only speaking very briefly, and in whispers, to one or two of the company who addressed her, took her place be- side a treble-hooded old lady, the only female of the party, and addressed herself to her in such earnest con- versation, as might dispense with her raising her head. or looking at any others in the company. Her father put a question, to which she was obliged to return an answer — " Where was Mistress Deb- bitch ?" u She had gone out," Alice replied, " early after sun- set, to visit some old acquaintances in the neighbour- hood, and she was not j^et returned." Major Bridgenorth made a gesture expressive of dis- pleasure ; and, not content with that, expressed his determined resolution that Dame Deborah should no longer remain a member of his family. " I will have tjiose," he said aloud, and without regarding the pre- sence of his guests, " and those only, around me, who know to keep within the sober and modest bounds of u Christian family. Who pretends to more freedom - must go out from among us, as not being of us." A deep and emphatic humming noise, which was at hat time the mode in which the Puritans signified their applause, as well of the doctrines expressed by a fa- vourite divine in the pulpit, as of those delivered in .private society, ratified the approbation of the assessors, and seemed to secure the dismission of the unfortunate gouvernante, who stood thus detected of having strayed >ut of bounds. Even Peveril, although he had reaped considerable advantages, in his early acquaintance with Alice, from the mercenary and gossipping disposition of her governess, could not hear of her dismissal with- 6ut approbation, so much was he desirous, that in the tear of difficulty, which might soon approach, Alice might have the benefit of countenance and advice from one of her own sex, of better manners, and less suspi- cious probity, than Mistress Debbitch. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 331 Almost immediately after this communication had ta- ken place, a servant in mourning showed his thin, pinched, and wrinkled visage in the apartment, announ- cing, with a voice more like a passing bell than the herald of a banquet, that refreshments were provided in an adjoining apartment. Gravely leading the way him- self, with his daughter on one side, and the puritanical female whom we have distinguished on the other, Bridgenorth himself ushered his company, who fol- lowed, with little attention to order or ceremony, into the eating-room, where a substantial supper was pro- vided. In this manner, Peveril, although entitled, according lo ordinary ceremonial, to some degree of precedence — a matter at that time considered as of as much im- portance as it is now regarded as insignificant — was left among the last of those who left the parlour ; and might indeed have brought up the rear of all, had not one of the company, who was himself late in the retreat, bow- ed, and resigned to Julian the rank in the company which had been usurped by others. This act of politeness naturally induced Julian to ex- amine the features of the person who had offered him this civility ; and he started to observe, under the pinched velvet cap, and above the short band-strings, the coun- tenance of Ganlesse, as he called himself — his compan- ion on the preceding evening. He looked again and again, especially when all were placed at the supper hoarc^ and when, consequently, he had frequent oppor- tunities of observing this person fixedly, without any breach of good manners. At first he wavered in his belief, and was much inclined to doubt the reality of his recollection ; for the difference of dress was such. as to effect a considerable change of appearance ; and the countenance itself, far from exhibiting any thing marked or memorable, was one of those ordinary visa- ges which we see almost without remarking them, and which leave our memory so soon as the object is with- drawn from our eyes. But the impression upon his mind returned, and became stronger, until it induced him to watch with peculiar attention the manners of tin- individual who had thus attracted his notice. 332 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. During the time of a very prolonged grace before meat, which was delivered by one of the company — who, from his Geneva band and serge doublet, presided, as Julian supposed, over some dissenting congregation — lie noticed that this man kept the same demure and se- vere cast of countenance usually affected by the Puritans, and which rather caricatured the reverence unquestion- ably due upon such occasions. His eyes were turned upward, and his huge pent-house hat, with a high crown and broad brim, held in both hands before him, rose and fell with the cadences of the speaker's voice; thus marking time, as it were, to the periods of the benedic- tion. Yet when the slight bustle took place which at- tends the adjusting of chairs, &c, as men sit down to table, Julian's eye encountered that of the stranger ; and as their looks met, there glanced from those of the latter, an expression of satirical humour and scorn, which seemed to intimate internal ridicule of the gravity of his present demeanour. Julian again sought to fix his eye, in order to ascertain that he had not mistaken the tendency of this transient expression, but the stranger did not allow him another opportunity. He might have been discovered by the tone of his voice ; but the individual in question spoke little, and in whispers, which was indeed the fashion of the whole company, whose demeanour at table resem- bled that of mourners at a funeral feast. The entertainment itself was coarse, though plentiful : and must, according to Julian's opinion, be distasteful to one so exquisitely skilled in good cheer, and so capa- ble of enjoying, critically and scientifically, the genial preparations of his companion, Smith, as Ganlesse had shown himself on the preceding evening. Accordingly, upon close observation, he remarked, that the food which he took upon his plate, remained there unconsu- med ; and that his actual supper consisted only of a crust of bread, with a glass of wine. The repast was hurried over with the haste of those, who think it shame, if not sin, to make mere animal en- joyments the means of consuming time, or of receiving pleasure : and when the men wiped their mouths and PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. 333 moustaches, Julian remarked, that the object of his cu- riosity used a handkerchief of the finest cambric — an article rather inconsistent with the exterior plainness, not to say coarseness, of his appearance. He used also several of the more minute refinements, then only ob- served at the tables of the higher rank ; and Julian thought, he could discern, at every turn, something of courtly manners and gestures, under the precise and rustic sim- plicity of the character which he had assumed. But if this were indeed that same Ganlesse with whom Julian had met on the preceding evening, and who had boasted the facility with which he could assume any character which he pleased to represent for the time, what could be the purpose of his present disguise ? He was, if his own words could be credited, a person of some importance, who dared to defy the danger of those officers and informers, before whom all ranks at that time trembled ; nor was he likely, as Julian conceived, without some strong purpose, to subject himself to such a masquerade as the present, which could not be other than irksome to one whose conversation proclaimed him of light life and free opinions. Was his appearance here for good or for evil ? Did it respect his father's house, or his own person, or the family of Bridgenorth ? Was the real character of Ganlesse known to the master of the house, inflexible as he was in all which concerned morals as well as religion ? If not, might not the ma- chinations of a brain so subtle, affect the peace and hap- piness of Alice Bridgenorth ? These were questions which no reflection could en- able Peveril to answer. His eyes glanced from Alice to the stranger ; and new fears, and undefined suspi- cions, in which the safety of that beloved and lovely girl was implicated, mingled with the deep anxiety which already occupied his mind, on account of his fa- ther, and his father's house. He was in this tumult of mind, when, after a thanks- giving as long as the grace, the company arose from ta- ble, and were instantly summoned to the exercise of i'ymily worship. A train of domestics, grave, sad, and melancholy as their superiors, glided in to assist at thi> .334 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. act of devotion, and ranged themselves at the lower end of the apartment. Most of these men were armed with long tucks, as the straight stabbing swords, much used by Cromwell's soldiery, were then called. Several had large pistols also ; and the corslets or cuirasses of some were heard to clank, as they kneeled down to partake in this act of devotion. The ministry of him whom Julian had supposed a preacher, was not used on this occasion. Major Bridgenorth himself read and ex- pounded a chapter of Scripture, with much strength and manliness of expression, although so as not to escape the charge of fanaticism. The nineteenth chapter of Je- remiah was the portion of Scripture which he selected ; in which, under the type of breaking a potter's vessel, the prophet presages the desolation of the Jews. The lecturer was not naturally eloquent ; but a strong, deep, and sincere conviction of the truth of what he said, sup- plied him with language of energy and fire, as he drew a parallel between the abominations of the worship of Baal, and the corruptions of the Church of Rome — so favourite a topic with the Puritans of that period ; and denounced against the Catholics, and those who favour- ed them, that hissing and desolation which the prophet directed against the city of Jerusalem. His hearers made a yet closer application than the lecturer himself suggested ; and many a dark proud eye intimated, by a glance on Julian, that on his father's house were alrea- dy, in some part, realized these dreadful maledictions. The lecture finished, Bridgenorth summoned them to unite with him in prayer ; and on a slight change of ar- rangements amongst the company, which took place as they were about to kneel down, Julian found his place next to the single-minded and beautiful object of his af- fection, as she knelt down, in her lowliness, to adore her Creator. A short time was permitted for mental devo- tion ; during which, Peveril could hear her half-breath- ed petition for the promised blessings of peace on earth, and good will towards the children of men. The prayer which ensued was in a different tone, ll was poured forth by the same person who had officiated mon~on, one per. ^cuted by the prelates ; and he w'!l expedite your passage from the kingdom." " Ma^or Bridgenorth," said Julian, 1 will not deceive von. We^e I f o accept your offer of freedom, it would be to at- tend to a higher call ihan that of mere self-preservation. My father is in danger- my mother in sonow — the voii f religion and nature call me to their side. I am (heir VOL. I. 2'J 338 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. only child — their only hope — I will aid them or perish with them." " Thou art mad," said Bridgenorth — "aid them thou canst not — perish with th^m thou well may'st, ard even ac- celerate their ruin ; for in addition to the charges with which thy unhappy father is loaded, it would be no slight aggravation, that while he med : ta cd arming and calling to- gether the Catholic? and Hi^h Chuichmen of Cheshire and Derbyshire, h^ir Geoffrey's ^oin ; and you ask us to care whether he be dead or in hie ! For you, that goes about trotting upon your horse, 'on of the family." " Ay, like enow, lik°. enow,' : said Ditchley ; " but I winna budge t'll I see it bl z>ng." " Why then, there a ; oes ?" said Lance. "Thank thee, Cis — thank thee, my \,ood wench. Bofieve your own eyes, my lads, if you will not be r e'f at the head of thirty stout fellows and upwards, armed wi h their pick-axes, and ready to execute whatever t..sk he should impose on them. Trust : ng to enter the castle by tl e postern, which had served to accommodate himself and other domestics upon an emergency, bis onlv anniety w;.s to beep h\: march silent ; and he earnest'y recommended ;o his followers to reserve their shouts for the moment of the attack. They had not advanced far b i their road to the Castle, when Cisly Sellok met them, so breathles^ with haste, that the poor girl was obliged to throw herseJf ; nto Master L ice's arms. " Stand up, my mettled wench " said he, giving her a si* kiss at 'he same time, "and let us know what is going on up at the Castle." " My lady bids you, as you would serve God and your J4G PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. master, rot to come up to the Castle, which can but make bloodshed ; for she savs Sir Geoffrey is lawfully in hand, and that he mu.t oide ihe issue ; and -hat he is innocent of what he is changed with, and is ^oim; up to speak for himself before King and Council, and she ~o~ed Lance. " Is ii: your fashion to go a shooting at this time o'night . ; Why this is but a lime for b .-fowling." 11 Nay, b k hark ihee, friend." said the experienced sen- "I am none of those who do this work negligently. Thou can-^t no t snare me with thy crafty speech, though thou wojV. i make it to sound simple in mine ear. Of a ventv, I will shoot unle-s thou tell thv name and business.'* '• Name!" s.tid Lance ; v why what a dickens should it be but P obi n Round — honest Flo bm of Red ham ? and for business, an you must needs know. I come on a message from some Parliament mm, up yonder *t the istle, with letters for worshipful Master Bridgenoi th of Moultrassie Hall ; and this be the place, as I think : though why ye he marching up and down at his door, like the sign of the Red Man, with your old firelock there. I c;mnot so well guess." "Give me the letters, Hi) friend,'" said the sentinel, to whom this explanation seemed very natural and probable 348 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. ;< and I will cause them forthwith to be delivered into his worship's own hand." Rummagng ; n his pockets, as if to pull oat the letters which never existed, Master Lance approached within the sentinel's piece, and before he was aw..re, suddenly seized him by .he collar, whistled sharp and shrill, and exerting his sk 11 as a wrestler, for which be had been distinguished in b's youth, he stretched his antagonist on his back — the musket for which they struggled going off in the fall. The miners rushed into the court-yard at Lance's signal .; and hopeless any onger of prosecuting hi? design in silence, Lance commanded two o'tbem to secure the prisoner, and the re^t *o ch >er loully, rnd attack the door of the house. Instant'y the cour..-ya.d of the mansion rung with the cry of " Pe^ril of the Peak for ever ! ' with all the abuse which the RoyaJ sts had invented to cast uoon the Round- heads during so many years of contention ; ar d at the same time, while some assailed ihe door with their mining : mple- ments, o he,rs directed their attack against ii»e angle, where a kind of porch joined to the main iront of the building ; and there, in ..ome d-^ree protected by the projection of the wall, and of a b/'cony which oveihung the porch, wrought in mo^e security, as well as with more effect, than the others ; for t/>e dooi ; being of oak, thickly studded with nails, of ered a more effectual r^s'stance to violence than the brick work. Tne no ; se of this hubbub on the outs : de soon excited wild aLrm and turn nit within. Li :h f * few . rom window to window, and voices were heard demanding the cause of the tumult : 'o which the party cries of those who were in the court-yard afforded a sufficient, or at lea^t the only answer, which was vouchsafed. At length the window of a pro- jecting staircase opened, and the voice of Bridge north him- self demanded authoritatively what the tumult meant, and commanded the rioters to desist, upon 'heir own proper and immediate peril. " We wart our young master, you canting old thief," was the reply ; M and if we have him not instantly, the topmost stone of your hou*e shall lie as low as the foundation." "We will try that presently," said Bridgenorth ; " for if there is another blow strucken against the walls of my peaceful house. I will lire my carabine among you, and your blood be, upon your own head. I have a score of friends, well armed with musket and pistol, to defend my house ; and we have both the means and heart, with heaven's assistance, to repay any violence you can offer." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 340 " Master Bridgenorth," replied Lance, who, though no soldier, was sportsman enough to comprehend the advan- tage which those under cover, and using fire-arms, must necessarily have over his party, exposed to their aim, in a great measure, and without means of answering their fire, — 11 Master Bridgenorth, let us crave parley with you,, and fair conditions. We desire to do you no evil, but will have back our young master ; it is enough that you have got our old one and his lady. It is foul chasing to kill hart, hind, and fawn ; and we will give you some light on the subject in an instant." This speech was followed by a great crash among the lower windows of the house, according to a new species of attack which had been suggested by some of the assailants. " I would lake the honest fellow's word, and let young • Peveril go," said one of the garrison, who, carelessly yawn- ing, approached on the inside the post at which Bridgenorth had stationed himself. " Are you mad ?" said Bridgenorth ; " or do you think me poor enough in spirit to give up the advantages I now possess over the family of Peveril, for the awe of a parcel of boors, whom the first discharge will scatter like chaff before the whirlwind ?" " Nay," answered the speaker, who was the same indi- vidual who had struck Julian by his resemblance to the man who called himself Ganlesse, "I love a dire revenge, but we shall buy it somewhat too dear if these rascals set the house on fire, as they are like to do, while you are parleying from the window. They have thrown torches or lire- brands into the hall ; and it is all our friends can do to keep the flame from catching the wainscoting, which is old and dry." " Now may heaven judge thee for thy lightness of spirit," answered Bridgenorth ; ''one would think mischief was so properly thy element, that to thee it was indifferent whether friend or foe was the sufferer." So saying, he ran hastily downstairs, into which, through broken casements, and betwixt the iron bars, which pre- vented human entrance, the assailants had thrust lighted straw, sufficient to excite much smoke and some fire, and to throw the defenders of the house into great confusion ; inso- much, that of several shots fired hastily from the windows, little or no damage followed to the besiegers, who, getting 'warm in the onset, answered the hostile discharges with loud shouts of " Peveril forever !" and had already made vol. i. 30 350 PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. a practicable breach through the brick wall of the tenement, through which Lance, Ditchley, and several of the most adventurous among their folloAvers, made their way into the ball. The complete capture of the house remained, however, as far off as ever. The defenders mixed with much cool- ness and skill, that solemn and deep spirit of enthusiasm which sets life at less than nothing, in comparison to real or supposed duty. From the half-opened doors which led into the hall, they maintained a tire which began to grow fatal. One miner was shot dead ; three or four were wounded ; and Lance scarce knew whether he should draw his forces from the house, and leave it a prey to the flames, or, making a desperate attack on the posts occupied by the defenders, try to obtain unmolested possession of the place. At this moment his course of conduct was determined bjr an unex- pected occurrence, of which it is necessary to trace the cause. Julian Peveril had been, like other inhabitants of Moul- trassie-Hall on that momentous night, awakened by the re- port of the sentinel's musket, followed by the shouts of his father's vassals and followers ; of which he collected enough to guess that Bridgenorth's house was attacked with a view to his liberation. Very doubtful of the issue of such an at- tempt, dizzy with the slumber from which he had been so suddenly awakened, and confounded with the rapid succes- sion of events to which he had been lately a witness, he hastily put on a part of his clothes, and hastened to the win- dow of his apartment. From this he could see nothing to relieve his anxiety, for it looked towards a quarter different from that on which the attack was made. He attempted his door ; it was locked on the outside ; and his perplexity and anxiety became extreme, when suddenly the lock was turned and in an undress, hastily assumed in the moment of alarm, her hair streaming on her shoulders, her eyes gleaming be- twixt fear and resolution, Alice Bridgenorth rushed into his apartment, and seized his hand with the fervent exclamation, " Julian, save my father !" The light which she bore in her hand served to show those features which could rarely have been viewed by any one without emotion, but which bore an expression irresis- tible to a lover. " Alice," he said, " what means this ? What is the dan- ger ? Where is your father ?" " Do not stay to question," she answered : "but if yeu would save him, follow me." PEVER1L OF THE PEAK. 351 At the same time she led the way, with great speed, half way down the turret staircase which led to his room, thence turning through a side door, along a long gallery , to a larger and wider stair, at the bottom of which stood her father, surrounded by four or five of his friends, scarce discernible through the smoke of the fire which began to take in the hall, as well as that which arose from the repeated discharge of their own fire-arms. Julian saw there was not a moment to be lost, if he meant to be a successful mediator. He rushed through Bridge- north's party ere they were aware of his approach, and throwing himself among the assailants who occupied the hall in considerable numbers, he assured them of his personal safety, and conjured them to retreat. " Not without a few more slices at the Rump, master, answered Lance. " I am principally glad to see you safe and well ; but here is Joe Rimegap shot as dead as a buck in season, and more of us are hurt; and we'll have revenge, and roast the Puritans like apples for lambs-wool !" " Then you shall roast me along with them," said Julian; " for I vow to God, I will not leave the hall, being bound by parole of honour to abide with Master Bridgenorth till law- fully dismissed." " Now out on you, an you were ten times a Peveril!" said Ditchley ; "to give so many honest fellows loss and labour on your behalf, and to show them no kinder counte- nance. — I say, beat up the fire, and burn altogether !" " Nay, nay ; but peace, my masters, and hearken to rea- son," said Julian ; u we are all here in evil condition, and you will only make it worse by contention. Do you help to put out this same fire, which will else cost us all dear. Keep yourselves under arms. Let Master Bridgenorth and I settle some grounds of accommodation, and I trust all will be favour- ably made up on both sides ; and if not, you shall have my consent and countenance to fight it out; and come on it what will, I will never forget this night's good service." He then drew Ditchley and Lance Outram aside, while the rest stood suspended at his appearance and words, and expressing the.utmost thanks and gratitude for what they had already done, urged them, as the greatest favour which they could do towards him and his father's house, to permit him to negotiate the terms of his emancipation from thral- dom 5 at the same time, forcing on Ditchley five or eix gold pieces, that the brave lads of Bonadventure might drink his health ; whilst to Lance he expressed the warmest sense of Jo2 PEVERIL OF TUB PEAK. his active kindness, but protested he could only consider it as good service to his house, if he was allowed to manage the matter after his own fashion. " Why," answered Lance, " I am well out on it Mas- ter Julian ; for it is matter beyond my mastery. All that I stand to is, that I will see you safe out of this same Moultras- sie-Hall ; for our old Naunt Whitaker will else give me but cold comfort when I come home. Truth is, I began unwil- lingly ; but when I saw the poor fellow Joe shot beside me, why 1 thought we should have some amends. But I put it all in your Honour's hands." During this colloquy both parties had been amicably em- ployed in extinguishing the fire, which might otherwise have been fatal to all. It required a general effort to get it under ; and both parties agreed on the necessary labour, with as much unanimity, as if the water they brought in leathern buckets from the well to throw upon the tire, had had some •: ffect in slaking their mutual hostility. CHAPTER IX. Necessity — thou best of peace-makers. As well as surest prompter of invention — Help us to composition. Anonymous. While the fire continued, the two parties laboured in ac- tive union, like the jarring factions of the Jews during the =iege of Jerusalem, when compelled to unite in resisting an assault of the besiegers. But when the last bucket of water had hissed on the few embers that continued to glimmer — when the sense of mutual hostility, hitherto suspended by a feeling of common danger, was in its turn rekindled— the parties, mingled as they had hitherto been in one common exertion, drew off from each other, and began to arrange themselves at opposite sides of the hall, and handle their weapons, as if for a renewal of the fight. Bridgenorth interrupted any farther progress of this me- naced hostility. " Julian Peveril." he said, " thou art free to walk thine own path, since thou wilt not walk with me that road which is more safe, as well as more honourable. But if you do by my counsel, you will get soon beyond the British seas." " Kalph Bridgenorth," said one of his friends, "this is but ; vil and feeble conduct on thine own part. Wilt thou with- hold thy hand from the battle, to defend, from these sons of Belial, the captive of thy bow and of thy spear ? Surely we PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 353 are enow to deal with them in the security of our good old cause; nor should we part with this spawn of the old serpent, until we essay whether the Lord will not give us victory therein." A hum o{ stern assent followed ; and had not Ganlesse now interfered, the combat would probably have been re- newed. He took the advocate for war apart into one of the window recesses, and apparently satisfied his objections ; for as he returned to his companions, he said to them, "Our friend hath so well argued this matter, that, verily, since he is of the same mind with the worthy Major Bridgenorth, I think the youth may be set at liberty." As no further objection was offered, it only remained with Julian to thank and reward those who had been active in his assistance. Having first obtained from Bridgenorth a promise of indemnity to them for the riot they had commit- ted, a few kind words conveyed his sense of their services ; and some broad pieces, thrust into the hand of Lance Ou- tram, furnished the means for affording them a holiday. They would have remained to protect him, but fearful of farther disorder, and relying entirely on the good faith of Major Bridgenorth, he dismissed them all excepting Lance, whom he detained to attend upon him for a few minutes, till he should depart from Moultrassie. But ere leaving the Hall, he could not repress his desire to speak with Bridge- north in secret ; and advancing towards him, he expressed such a desire. Tacitly granting what was asked of him, Bridgenorth led the way to a small summer saloon adjoining to the Hall, where, with his usual gravity and indifference of manner, he seemed to await in silence what Peveril had to communicate. Julian found it difficult, where so little opening was af- forded him, to find a tone in which to open the subjects he had at heart, that should be at once dignified and concilia- ting. " Major Bridgenorth," he said at length, " you have been a son, and an affectionate one — You may conceive my present anxiety — My father ! — What has been designed for him ?" " What the law will," answered Bridgenorth. " Had he walked by the counsels which I procured to be given to him, he might have dwelt safely in the house of his ancestors. His fate is now beyond my control — far beyond yours. It must be with him as his country shall decide." » *' And my mother ?" said Peveril. ■' Will consult, as she has ever done, her own duty ; ami 30* .554 TEVERIL OF THE PEAK. create her own happiness by doing so,'* replied Bridgenorth, <{ Believe, my designs towards your family are better than •hey may seem through the mist which adversity has spread around your house. I may triumph as a man ; but as a man I must also remember, in my hour, that mine enemies have had theirs. — Have you aught else to say ?" he added, after a momentary pause. " You have rejected once, yea and again, the hand I stretched out to you. Methinks little more remains between us." These words, which seemed to cut short farther discussion, were calmly spoken ; so that, though they appeared to dis* courage farther question, they could not interrupt that which still trembled on Julian's tongue. He made a step or two towards the door ; then suddenly returned. " Your daugh- ter ?" he said — " Major Bridgenorth — I should ask — I do ask forgiveness for mentioning her name — but may 1 not inquire after her? — May I not express my wishes for her future happiness ?" " Your interest in her is but too flattering," said Bridge- north ; ** but you have already chosen your part ; and you must be, in future, strangers to each other. I may have wished it olherwise, but the hour of grace is passed, during which your compliance with my advice might — I will speak it plainly — have led to your union. For her happiness — if such a word belongs to a mortal pilgrimage — I shall care for it sufficiently. She leaves this place to-day, under the guardianship of a sure friend." " Not of " exclaimed Peveril, and stopped short : for he felt he had no right to pronounce the name which came to his lips. " Why do you pause," said Bridgenorth ; " a sudden thought is often a wise, almost always an honest one. With whom did you suppose I meant to intrust my child, that the idea called forth so anxious an expression ?" " Again I should ask 3'our forgiveness," said Julian, " for meddling where I have little right to interfere. But I saw a face here that is known to me — The person calls himself