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 Peveril known to break it ?" "Ay" replied his companion, a Peveril-a Peveril of the Peak!-a name which has long sounded like a war-trumpet in the land; but which has now perhaps sounded its last note. Look back, young man, on the darksome turrets of your father's house, which uplift themselves as proudly on the brow of the hill, as their owners raised 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 of Peveril to one, whom, in their aristocratic pride, they held as a plebeian upstart.Think of this; and 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 mansion, on which poured the moonlight, mixed with long 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 Martindale, and the name of Peveril, had afforded no room for their enemy's vainglorious boast. But those who have stood high on Fortune's wheel, must abide by the consequence of its revolutions. Thus much I will at least say for my father's house, that it has not stood unhonoured; 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." 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, melancholy glance, first on the one of them, and then on the other. "Some," he said, gravely, "would, in my case, have avoided this meeting; but I have confidence in you both, although you are young, and beset with the snares incidental to your age. There are those within 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 entrance-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 to her father, took the light out of his hand, and, stepping before him, acted as the usher of both into the large 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 consort and family. It was now lighted up as for the reception of company; and five or six persons sat in it, in the plain, black, stiff dress, which was affected by the formal Puritans of the time, in evidence of their contempt of the manners of the luxurious Court of Charles the Second; amongst whom, excess of extravagance in apparel, like excess of every other kind, was highly fashionable. Julian at first glanced his eyes but slightly along Peveril broke off in extreme surprise; for as he spoke the range of grave and severe faces which composed the last words, the bright red beams of the family this society-men, sincere perhaps in their pretensions beacon began again to glimmer from its wonted to a superior purity of conduct and morals, but in watch-tower, checkering the pale moon-beam with a whom that high praise was somewhat chastened by ruddier glow. Bridgenorth also gazed on this unex- an affected austerity in dress and manners, allied to pected illumination with surprise, and not, as it those Pharisees of old, who made broad their physeemed, without disquietude. Young man," he re-lacteries, and would be seen of men to fast, and to sumed, "it can scarcely be but that Heaven intends to discharge with rigid punctuality the observances of work great things by your hand, so singularly has the law. Their dress was almost uniformly a black that augury followed on your words." cloak and doublet, cut straight and close, and undecorated with lace or embroidery of any kind, black Flemish breeches and hose, square-toed shoes, with large roses made of serge ribbon. Two or three had huge 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 skullcap of black silk or velvet, which being drawn down betwixt the ears and the skull, and permitting no hair to escape, occasioned the former to project in the ungraceful manner which may be remarked in old pictures, and which procured for the Puritans the term of "prickeared Roundheads," so unceremoniously applied to them by their contemporaries. So saying, he put his horse once more in motion; and looking back, from time to time, as if to assure himself that the beacon of the Castle was actually rekindled, he led the way through the well-known 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 traditions and usages of his family. 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 XXIV. We meet, as men see phantoms in a dream, The Chieftain. 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 awaiting, 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 manWE said, at the conclusion of the last chapter, that ner, resembling their own. He paused before each a female form appeared at the door of Moultrassie-in succession, and apparently communicated, as he Hall; and that the well-known accents of Alice Bridgenorth were heard to hail the return of her father, from what she 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 embrace, she was aware of the unexpected passed, the transactions of the evening, and the circumstances under which the heir of Martindale Castle was now a guest at Moultrassie-Hall. Each seemed to stir at his brief detail, like a range of statues in an enchanted hall, starting 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 of curiosity, blended with haughty scorn and the consciousness of spiritual superiority; to watch with peculiar attention the manners of the individual who had thus attracted his notice. though, in one or two instances, the milder influences | returned, and became stronger, until it induced him of compassion were sufficiently visible.-Peveril would have undergone this gauntlet of eyes with more impatience, had not his own been for the time engaged During the time of a very prolonged grace before in following the motions of Alice, who glided through meat, which was delivered by one of the companythe apartment; and only speaking very briefly, and who from his Geneva band and serge doublet, prein whispers, to one or two of the company who ad-sided, as Julian supposed, over some dissenting condressed her, took her place beside a treble-hooded old gregation-he noticed that this man kept the same lady, the only female of the party, and addressed her- demure and severe cast of countenance usually self to her in such earnest conversation, as might affected by the Puritans, which rather caricatured the dispense with her raising her head, or looking at any reverence unquestionably due upon such occasions. others in the company. His eyes were turned upward, and his huge penthouse 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 benediction. Yet when the slight bustle took place which attends 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. Her father put a question, to which she was obliged to return an answer-"Where was Mistress Debbitch ?" "She had gone out," Alice replied, "early after sunset, to visit some old acquaintances in the neighbourhood, and she had not yet returned." Major Bridgenorth made a gesture indicative of displeasure; and, not content with that, expressed his determined resolution that Dame Deborah should no longer remain a member of his family. "I will have those," he said aloud, and without regarding the presence of his guests, "and those only, around me, who know to keep within the sober and modest bounds of a 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 that time the mode in which the Puritans signified their applause, as well of the doctrines expressed by a favourite 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 governante, who stood thus detected of having strayed out of bounds. Even Peveril, although he had reaped considerable advantages, in his early acquaintance with Alice, from the mercenary and gossiping disposition of her governess, could not hear of her dismissal without approbation, so much was he desirous, that, in the hour 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 suspicious probity, than Mistress Debbitch. Almost immediately after this communication had taken place, a servant in mourning showed his thin, pinched, and wrinkled visage in the apartment, announcing, 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, with his daughter on one side, and the puritanical female whom we have distinguished on the other, Bridgenorth himself ushered his company, who followed, with little attention to order or ceremony, into the eating-room, where a substantial supper was provided. In this manner, Peveril, although entitled, according to ordinary ceremonial, to some degree of precedencea matter at that time considered of much importance, although now little regarded-was left among the last of those who quitted 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, bowed and resigned to Julian the rank in the company which had been usurped by others. This act of politeness naturally induced Julian to examine 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 bandstrings, the countenance of Ganlesse, as he called himself-his companion on the preceding evening. He looked again and again, especially when all were placed at the supper board, and when, consequently, he had frequent opportunities 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 visages which we see almost without remarking them, and which leave our memory so soon as the object is withdrawn from our eyes. But the impression upon his mind 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 resembled 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 capable 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 unconsumed; 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 enjoyments the means of consuming time or of receiving pleasure; and when the men wiped their mouths and mustaches, Julian remarked, that the object of his curiosity used a handkerchief of the finest cambrick-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 observed at tables of higher rank; and Julian thought he could discern, at every turn, something of courtly manners and gestures, under the precise and rustic simplicity 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 pre sent 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 otherwise 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 machinations of a brain so subtle, affect the peace and happiness of Alice Bridgenorth? These were questions which no reflection could termed, for some concern in a Jacobite insurrection or plot, was *A Scottish gentleman in hiding, as it was emphatically discovered among a number of ordinary persons, by the use of his toothpick. enable Peveril to answer. His eyes glanced from Alice to the stranger; and new fears, and undefined suspicions, 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 father, and his father's house. Cheered and fortified with the conviction that one bosom in the company, and that in which he most eagerly longed to secure an interest, sympathized with his distress, he felt strong to endure whatever was to follow, and shrunk not from the stern still smile with which, one by one, the meeting regarded him, as, gliding to their several places of repose, they indulged themselves at parting with a look of triumph on one, whom they considered as their captive enemy. Alice also passed by her lover, her eyes fixed on the ground, and answered his low obeisance without raising them. The room was now empty, but for Bridgenorth and his guest, or prisoner; for it is difficult to say in which capacity Peveril ought to regard himself. He took an old brazen lamp from the table, and, leading the way, said at the same time, “I must be the uncourtly chamberlain, who am to usher you to a place of repose, more rude,, perhaps, than you have been accustomed to occupy.' He was in this tumult of mind, when after a thanksgiving as long as the grace, the company arose from the table, and were instantly summoned to the exercise of family worship. A train of domestics, grave sad, and melancholy as their superiors, glided in to assist at this 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 corselets or cuirasses of some were heard to clank, as they seated themselves 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 expounded 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 Jeremiah 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, supplied 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 favoured 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 already, in some part, realized those dread-of my father. Above all, you cannot, and I must ful maledictions. The lecture finished, Bridgenorth summoned them to unite with him in prayer; and on a slight change of arrangements 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 affection, as she knelt, in her loveliness, to adore her Creator. A short time was permitted for mental devotion; during which, Peveril could hear her half-breathed 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. It was poured forth by the same person who had officiated as chaplain at the table; and was in the tone of a Boanerges, or Son of Thunder-a denouncer of crimes an invoker of judgments-almost a prophet of evil and of destruction. The testimonies and the sins of the day were not forgotten-the mysterious murder of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey was insisted upon-and thanks and praise were offered, that the very night on which they were assembled, had not seen another offering of a Protestant magistrate, to the blood-thirsty fury of the revengeful Catholics. Never had Julian found it more difficult, during an act of devotion, to maintain his mind in a frame befitting the posture and the occasion; and when he heard the speaker return thanks for the downfall and devastation of his family, he was strongly tempted to have started upon his feet, and charged him with offering a tribute, stained with falsehood and calumny, at the throne of truth itself. He resisted, however, an impulse which it would have been insanity to have yielded to, and his patience was not without its reward, for when his fair neighbour arose from her knees, the lengthened and prolonged prayer being at last concluded, he observed that her eyes were streaming with tears; and one glance with which she looked at him in that moment, showed more of affectionate interest for him in his fallen fortunes and precarious condition, than he had been able to obtain from her when his worldly estate seemed so much the more exalted of the two. Julian followed him, in silence, up an old-fashioned winding staircase, within a turret. At the landingplace on the top, was a small apartment, where an ordinary pallet bed, two chairs, and a small stone table, were the only furniture. "Your bed," continued Bridgenorth, as if desirous to prolong their interview, "is not of the softest; but innocence sleeps as sound upon straw as on down." Sorrow, Major Bridgenorth, finds little rest on either," replied Julian. "Tell me, for you seem to await some question from me, what is to be the fate of my parents, and why you separate me from them?" Bridgenorth, for answer, indicated with his finger the mark which his countenance still showed from the explosion of Julian's pistol. "That," replied Julian, "is not the real cause of your proceedings against me. It cannot be, that you, who have been a soldier, and are a man, can be surprised or displeased by my interference in the defence needs say you do not, believe that I would have raised my hand against you personally, had there been a moment's time for recognition.' "I may grant all this," said Bridgenorth; "but what the better are you for my good opinion, or for the ease with which I can forgive you the injury which you aimed at me? You are in my custody as a magistrate, accused of abetting the foul, bloody, and heathenish plot, for the establishment of Popery, the murder of the King, and the general massacre of all true Protestants." And on what grounds, either of fact or suspicion, dare any one accuse me of such a crime?" said Julian. "I have hardly heard of the plot, save by the mouth of common rumour, which, while it speaks of nothing else, takes care to say nothing distinctly even on that subject." "It may be enough for me to tell you," replied Bridgenorth, "and perhaps it is a word too muchthat you are a discovered intriguer-a spied spy-who carries tokens and messages betwixt the Popish Countess of Derby, and the Catholic party in London. You have not conducted your matters with such discretion, but that this is well known, and can be sufficiently proved. To this charge, which you are well aware you cannot deny, these men, Everett and Dangerfield, are not unwilling to add, from the recollection of your face, other passages, which will certainly cost you your life when you come before a Protestant jury." "They lie like villains," said Peveril, "who hold me accessary to any plot either against the King, the nation, or the state of religion; and for the Countess, her loyalty has been too long, and too highly proved, to permit her being implicated in such injurious suspicions." "What she has already done," said Bridgenorth, his face darkening as he spoke, "against the faithful champions of pure religion, hath sufficiently shown of what she is capable. She hath betaken herself to her rock, and sits, as she thinks, in security, like the eagle reposing after his bloody banquet. But the arrow of the fowler may vet reach her-the shaft is whetted-the bow is bended-and it will be soon seen whether Amalek or Israel shall prevail. But for thee, Julian Peveril-why should I conceal it from thee?my heart yearns for thee as a woman's for her firstborn. To thee I will give, at the expense of my own reputation-perhaps at the risk of personal suspicion -for who, in these days of doubt, shall be exempted from it-to thee, I say, I will give means of escape, which else where impossible to thee. The staircase of this turret descends to the gardens-the posterngate is unlatched-on the right hand lie the stables, where you will find your own horse-take it, and make for Liverpool-I will give you credit with a friend under the name of Simon Simonson, one persecuted by the prelates; and he will expedite your passage from the kingdom." Major Bridgenorth," said Julian, "I will not deceive you. Were I to accept your offer of freedom, it would be to attend to a higher call than that of mere self-preservation. My father is in danger-my mother in sorrow-the voices of religion and nature call me to their side. I am their 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 them thou well mayst, and even accelerate their ruin; for, in addition to the charges with which thy unhappy father is loaded, it would be no slight aggravation, that while he meditated arming and calling together the Catholics and High Churchmen of Cheshire and Derbyshire, his son should prove to be the confidential agent of the Countess of Derby, who aided her in making good her stronghold against the Protestant commissioners, and was despatched by her to open secret communication with the Popish interest in London." Instigated, doubtless, by the pristine reminiscences of former times, no sooner had that most prudent and considerate dame found herself in the vicinity of the scenes of her earlier days, than she bethought herself of a visit to the ancient housekeeper of Martindale Castle, Dame Ellesmere by name, who long retired from active service, resided at the keeper's lodge, in the west thicket, with her nephew, Lance Outram, subsisting upon the savings of her better days, and on a small pension allowed by Sir Geoffrey to her age and faithful services. Now, Dame Ellesmere and Mistress Deborah had not by any means been formerly on so friendly a footing, as this haste to visit her might be supposed to intimate. But years had taught Deborah to forget and forgive; or perhaps she had no special objection, under cover of a visit to Dame Ellesmere, to take the chance of seeing what changes time had made on her old admirer the keeper. Both inhabitants were in the cottage, when, after having seen her master set forth on his expedition to the Castle, Mistress Debbitch, dressed in her very best gown, footed it through gutter, and over stile, and by pathway green, to knock at their door, and to lift the latch at the hospitable invitation which bade her come in. Dame Ellesmere's eyes were so dim, that, even with the aid of spectacles, she failed to recognise, in the portly and mature personage who entered their cottage, the tight well-made lass, who, presuming on her good looks and flippant tongue, had so often provoked her by insubordination; and her former lover, the redoubted Lance, not being conscious that ale had given rotundity to his own figure, which was formerly so slight and active, and that brandy had transferred to his nose the colour which had once occupied his cheeks, was unable to discover that Deborah's French cap, composed of sarsenet and Brussels lace, shaded the features which had so often "You have twice stated me as such an agent," said Peveril, resolved that his silence should not be construed into an admission of the charge, though he felt that it was in some degree well founded-procured him a rebuke from Dr. Dummerar, for suf"What reason have you for such an allegation?" "Will it suffice for a proof of my intimate acquaintance with your mystery," replied Bridgenorth, "if I should repeat to you the last words which the Countess used to you when you left the Castle of that Amalekitish woman? Thus she spoke: 'I am now a forlorn widow,' she said, 'whom sorrow has made selfish.'" Peveril started, for these were the very words the Countess had used; but he instantly recovered himself, and replied, "Be your information of what nature it will, I deny, and I defy it, so far as it attaches aught like guilt to me. There lives not a man more innocent of a disloyal thought, or of a traitorous purpose. What I say for myself, I will to the best of my knowledge, say and maintain on account of the noble Countess, to whom I am indebted for nurture." "Perish, then, in thy obstinacy!" said Bridgenorth; and turning hastily from him, he left the room, and Julian heard him hasten down the narrow staircase, as if distrusting his own resolution. With a heavy heart, yet with that confidence in an overruling Providence which never forsakes a good and brave man, Peveril betook himself to his lowly place of repose. CHAPTER XXV. The course of human life is changeful still, Or, like the light dance which the wild-breeze weaves of fate with man, frail tenant of a day!-Anonymous. WHILST, Overcome with fatigue, and worn out by anxiety, Julian Peveril slumbered as a prisoner in the house of his hereditary enemy, Fortune was preparing his release by one of those sudden frolics with which she loves to confound the calculations and expectancies of humanity; and as she fixes on strange agents for such purposes, she condescended to employ, on the present occasion, no less a personage than Mistress Deborah Debbitch. VOL. IV. 2 E fering his eyes during the time of prayers, to wander to the maid-servant's bench. In brief, the blushing visiter was compelled to make herself known; and when known, was received by aunt and nephew with the most sincere cordiality. The home-brewed was produced; and, in lieu of more vulgar food, a few slices of venison presently hissed in the frying-pan, giving strong room for inference that Lance Outram, in his capacity of keeper, neglected not his own cottage when he supplied the larder at the castle. A modest sip of the excellent Derbyshire ale, and a taste of the highly-seasoned hash, soon placed Deborah entirely at home with her old acquaintance. Having put all necessary questions, and received all suitable answers, respecting the state of the neighbourhood, and such of her own friends as continued to reside there, the conversation began rather to flag, until Deborah found the art of again renewing its interest, by communicating to her friends the dismal intelligence that they must soon look for deadly bad news from the Castle; for that her present master, Major Bridgenorth, had been summoned, by some great people from London, to assist in taking her old master, Sir Geoffrey; and that all Master Bridgenorth's servants, and several other persons whom she named, friends and adherents to the same interest, had assembled a force to surprise the Castle; and that as Sir Geoffrey was now so old, and gouty withal, it could not be expected he should make the defence he was wont; and then he was known to be so stout-hearted, that it was not to be supposed that he would yield up without stroke of sword; and then if he was killed, as he was like to be, amongst them that liked never a bone of his body, and now had him at their mercy, why, in that case, she, Dame Deborah would look upon Lady Peveril as little better than a dead woman; and undoubtedly there would be general mourning through all that country, where they had such great kin; and silks were likely to rise on it, as Master Lutestring, the mercer of Chesterfield was like to feel in his purse bottom. But for her part, let matters wag how they would, an if Master Julian Peveril was to come to his own, she could give as near a guess as e'er another who was likely to be Lady at Martindale. duty incumbent upon him as a faithful servant, which was indeed specially dinned into him by the cries and The text of this lecture, or, in other words, the fact exclamations of his aunt, he seemed not a little duthat Bridgenorth was gone with a party to attack Sir bious how to conduct himself. "I would to God, Geoffrey Peveril in his own Castle of Martindale, naunt," he said at last, that old Whitaker were alive sounded so stunningly strange in the ears of those old now, with his long stories about Marston-moor and retainers of his family, that they had no power either Edge-hill, that made us all yawn our jaws off their to attend to Mistress Deborah's inferences, or to in-hinges, in spite of broiled rashers and double-beer! terrupt the velocity of speech with which she poured When a man is missed, he is moaned, as they say; them forth. And when at length she made a breath- and I would rather than a broad-piece he had been less pause, all that poor Dame Ellesmere could reply, here to have sorted this matter, for it is clean out of was the emphatic question, "Bridgenorth brave my way as a woodsman, that have no skill of war. Peveril of the Peak!-Is the woman mad?" But dang it, if old Sir Geoffrey go to the wall without a knock for it! Here you, Nell"-(speaking to one of the fugitive maidens from the Castle)-“but, no—you have not the heart of a cat, and are afraid of your own shadow by moonlight-But, Cis, you are a stouthearted wench, and know a buck from a bullfinch. Hark thee, Cis, as you would wish to be married, get up to the Castle again, and get thee in-thou best knowest where for thou hast oft gotten out of postern to a dance, or junketing, to my knowledge-Get thee back to the Castle, as ye hope to be marriedSee my lady-they cannot hinder thee of that-my lady has a head worth twenty of ours-If I am to gather force, light up the beacon for a signal; and spare not a tar barrel on't. Thou mayst do it safe enough. I warrant the Roundheads busy with drink and plunder.-And, hark thee, say to my lady I am gone down to the miners' houses at Bonadventure. The rogues were mutinying for their wages but yesterday; they will be all ready for good or bad. Let her send orders down to me; or do you come yourself, your legs are long enough." "Come, come, dame," said Deborah, woman me no more than I woman you. I have not been called Mistress at the head of the table for so many years, to be woman'd here by you. And for the news, it is as true as that you are sitting there in a white hood, who will wear a black one ere long." "Lance Outram," said the old woman, "make out, if thou be'st a man, and listen about if aught stirs up at the Castle." "If there should," said Outram, "I am even too long here;" and he caught up his cross-bow, and one or two arrows, and rushed out of the cottage. "Well-a-day!" said Mistress Deborah, see if my news have not frightened away Lance Outram too, whom they used to say nothing could start. But do not take on so, dame; for I dare say if the Castle and the lands pass to my new master, Major Bridgenorth, as it is like they will-for I have heard that he has powerful debts over the estate-you shall have my good word with him, and I promise you he is no bad man; something precise about preaching and praying, and about the dress which one should wear, which, I must own, beseems not a gentleman, as, to be sure, every woman knows best what becomes her. But for you, dame, that wear a prayer-book at your girdle, with your house-wife-case, and never change the fashion of your white hood, I dare say he will not grudge you the little matter you need, and are not able to win. "Out, sordid jade!" exclaimed Dame Ellesmere, her very flesh quivering betwixt apprehension and anger, and hold your peace this instant, or I will find those that shall flay the very hide from thee with dog-whips. Hast thou eat thy noble master's bread, not only to betray his trust, and fly from his service, but wouldst thou come here, like an ill-omened bird as thou art, to triumph over his downfall?" "Nay, Dame," said Deborah, over whom the violence of the old woman had obtained a certain predominance; "it is not I that say it-only the warrant of the Parliament folks." "I thought we had done with their warrants ever since the blessed twenty-ninth of May," said the old housekeeper of Martindale Castle; "but this I tell thee, sweetheart, that I have seen such warrants crammed, at the sword's point, down the throats of them that brought them; and so shall this be, if there is one true man left to drink of the Dove." 66 As she spoke, Lance Outram re-entered the cottage. Naunt," he said in dismay, "I doubt it is true what she says. The beacon tower is as black as my belt. No Pole-star of Peveril. What does that betoken ?" "Death, ruin, and captivity," exclaimed old Ellesmere. "Make for the Castle, thou knave. Thrust in thy great body. Strike for the house that bred thee and fed thee; and if thou art buried under the ruins, thou diest a man's death." "Nay, naunt, I shall not be slack," answered Outram. "But here come folks that I warrant can tell us more on't." One or two of the female servants, who had fled from the Castle during the alarm, now rushed in with various reports of the case; but all agreeing that a body of armed men were in possession of the Castle, and that Major Bridgenorth had taken young Master Julian prisoner, and conveyed him down to Moultrassie-Hall, with his feet tied under the belly of the nag -a shameful sight to be seen-and he so well born and so handsome. Lance scratched his head; and though feeling the 'Whether they are or not, Master Lance, (and you know nothing of the matter,) they shall do your errand to-night, for love of the old Knight and his lady." So Cisly Sellok, a kind of Derbyshire Camilla, who had won the smock at the foot-race at Ashbourne, sprung forward towards the Castle, with a speed which few could have equalled. "There goes a mettled wench," said Lance; "and now, naunt, give me the old broad sword-it is above the bed-head-and my wood-knife; and I shall do well enough.". "And what is to become of me?" bleated the unfortunate Mistress Deborah Debbitch. "You must remain here with my aunt, Mistress Deb; and, for old acquaintance' sake, she will take care no harm befalls you; but take heed how you attempt to break bounds.' So saying, and pondering in his own mind the task which he had undertaken, the hardy forester strode down the moonlight glade, scarcely hearing the blessings and cautions which Dame Ellesmere kept showering after him. His thoughts were not altogether warlike. "What a tight ankle the jade hath! she trips it like a doe in summer over the dew. Well, but here are the huts-Let us to this gear.-Are ye all asleep, ye dammers, sinkers, and drift-drivers ? turn out, ye subterranean badgers. Here is your master, Sir Geoffrey, dead, for aught you know or care. Do not you see the beacon is unlit, and you sit there like so many asses?" 66 "Why," answered one of the miners, who now began to come out of their huts, "An he be dead, He will eat no more bread." "And you are like to eat none neither," said Lance; "for the works will be presently stopped, and all of you turned off." "Well, and what of it, Master Lance? As good play for naught as work for naught. Here is four weeks we have scarce seen the colour of Sir Geoffrey's coin; and you ask us to care whether he be dead or in life! For you, that goes about, trotting upon your horse, and doing for work what all men do for pleasure, it may be well enough; but it is another matter to be leaving God's light, and burrowing all day and night in darkness, like a toad in a hole-that's not to be done for naught, I trow; and if Sir Geoffrey is dead, his soul will suffer for't; and if he's alive, we'll have him in the Barmoot Court." |