Ruminating thus, he essayed another door, which | sense, conceive why I should suffer for refusing my admitted him to a bed-room, 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 hospitality and stock in trade. This discovery relieved Peveril from some de' cate 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 reckoning; not caring to be indebted for his entertainment to the strangers, whom he was leaving without the formality of an adieu. 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 than that by which I would have guided you." So saying, Ganlesse turned his back and walked His conscience cleared of this gentlemanlike scru- towards the house. On the threshold he turned ple, Peveril proceeded with a light heart, though some- about once more, and seeing that Peveril had not what a dizzy head, to the stable, which he easily yet moved from the spot, he again smiled and beckrecognised among a few other paltry outhouses. His oned to him; but Julian, recalled by that sign to horse, refreshed with rest, and perhaps not unmind-recollection, spurred his horse, and set forward on his ful of his services the evening before, neighed as his journey. master entered the stable; and Peveril accepted the sound as an omen of a prosperous journey. He paid the augury with a sieveful of corn; and, while his palfrey profited by his attention, walked into the fresh air to cool his heated blood, and consider what course he should pursue in order to reach the Castle of Martindale before sunset. His acquaintance with the country in general, gave him confidence 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 nightfall. 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's 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 thing, although a moment's reflection assured him that he was neither wrong nor in danger. "I cared not to disturb you," he said, "although 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 left my own 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 the time. For the cuckoo I travel with, and whom I indulge in his prodigal follies, 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 lightnings of a keen gray eye, which corresponded, in its careless and prideful glance, with the haughty superiority which the stranger assumed in his conversation. It was not till after a momentary pause, that Julian replied, "Can you wonder, sir, that in my circumstances-if they are indeed known to you so well as they seem-I should decline unnecessary confidence on the affairs of moment which have called me hither, or refuse the company 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.' " I understand not your threat," answered Peveril, "if a threat be indeed implied. I have done no evilI feel no apprehension and I cannot, in common VOL. IV. 2D It was not long ere his local acquaintance with the country enabled him to regain the road to Mar tindale, 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 all, that, in spite of Julian's utmost exertions, and though he made no longer delay upon the journey than was necessary to bait his horse at a small hamlet through which he passed at noon, it was nightfall ere he reached an eminence, from which, an hour sooner, the battlements of Martindale Castle would have been visible; and where, when they were hid in night, their situation was indicated by a light constantly maintained 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 kindled at curfew toll, and supplied with as much wood and charcoal as maintained the light till sunrise; and at no period was the cere monial omitted, saving during the space intervening between the death of a Lord of the Castle and his interment. When this last event had taken place, 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 circumstance the practice of maintaining this light originally sprung. Tradition spoke of it doubtfully. Some thought it was the signal of general hospitality, which, in ancient times, guided the wandering knight, or the weary pilgrim, to rest and refreshment. Others spoke of it as a "love-lighted watchfire," by which the provident anxiety of a former lady of Martindale guided her husband homeward through the terrors of a midnight storm. The less favourable construction of unfriendly neighbours of the dissenting persuasion, ascribed the origin and continuance of this practice, to the assuming pride of the family of Peveril, who thereby chose to intimate their ancient suzerainté 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 Geoffrey, as he that had raised his horn and set up his candlestick on high. Certain it is, that all the Peverils, from father to son, had been especially attentive to the maintenance of this custom, as something intimately connected with the dignity of their family; and in the hands of Sir Geoffrey, the observance was not likely to be omitted. Accordingly, the polar-star of Peveril had continued to beam more or less brightly during all the vicissitudes of the Civil War; and glimmered, however faintly, during the subsequent period of Sir Geoffrey's depression. But he was often heard to say, and sometimes to swear, that while there was a perch of woodland left to the estate, the old beacon-grate should not lack replenishing. 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 light was not 1 visible. He halted--rubbed his eyes-shifted his posi- | "The Castle-lack-a-day!-Chamberlain-Mattion and endeavoured, in vain, to persuade himself thew Chamberlain-I say, Matt!" that he had mistaken the point from which the polar- Matt Chamberlain apparently was at no great disstar of his house was visible, or that some newly tance, for he presently answered her call; and Peveintervening obstacle, the growth of a plantation, per- ril, as he stood close to the door, could hear them haps, or the erection of some building, intercepted whispering to each other, and distinguish in a great the light of the beacon. But a moment's reflection measure what they said. And here it may be noticed assured him, that from the high and free situation that Dame Raine, accustomed to submit to the authowhich Martindale-Castle bore in reference to the sur-rity of old Roger, who vindicated as well the husrounding country, this could not have taken place; band's domestic prerogative, as that of the monarch and the inference necessarily forced itself upon his in the state, had, when left a buxom widow, been so mind, that Sir Geoffrey, his father, was either de- far incommoded by the exercise of her newly acquired ceased, or that the family must have been disturbed independence, that she had recourse, upon all occaby some strange calamity under the pressure of sions, to the advice of Matt Chamberlain; and as which their wonted custom and solemn usage had Matt began no longer to go slipshod, and in a red been neglected. nightcap, 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 Matthew was a bit of a Puritan, and no friend to Peveril of the Peak. 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 village of Martindale-Moultrassie, eagerly desirous to ascertain the cause of this ominous eclipse. The street, through which his tired horse paced slow and reluctantly, was now deserted and empty; and scarcely a candle twinkled from a casement, except 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 entertainment, made so sudden and determined a pause, that, notwithstanding his haste, the rider thought it best to dismount, expecting to be readily supplied with a fresh horse by Roger Raine, the landlord, the ancient dependant 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 dissolute 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 drabb'd till the saints overcame ye; "Now counsel me, an you be a man, Matt Chamberlain," 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 my 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, Matt, we have eaten their bread, and, as my poor goodman 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 Sir Geoffrey and his lady do?" "Lack-a-day!-lack-a-day !" in a tone of sympa thy, was the only answer he received from the landlady; and the conversation betwixt her and her Forsooth, and Ne'er stir,' sir, have vanquished G-d-n chamberlain was resumed, but in a tone too low to be me,' Which nobody can deny. "There was bluff old Sir Geoffrey loved brandy and mum well, 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 forth in the very inn which was decorated with the armorial bearings of his family; and not knowing how far it might be advisable to intrude on these unfriendly revellers, 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 apartment, having determined to make private inquiry of him concerning 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 replied, by the usual inquiry, "Who is there?" "It is I, Dame Raine-1, Julian Peveril-tell your husband to come to me presently." "Alack, and a well-a-day, Master Julian, if it be really you-you are to know my poor goodman has gone where he can come to no one; but, doubtless, we shall all go to him, as Matthew Chamberlain says." He is dead, then?" said Julian. "I 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 Matt Chamberlain says. "Well, do you or your chamberlain undo the door. I want a fresh horse, and I want to know how things are at the Castle." overheard. At length, Matt Chamberlain spoke aloud, and with a tone of authority: "We undo no doors at this time of night, for it is against the Justices' orders, and might cost 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 ungrateful churl, whom, on the first opportunity, I will assuredly cudgel to a mummy.' To this menace Matthew made no reply, and Peveril 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, notwithstanding 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 goodnature and habitual veneration of the dame for the house of Peveril, and perhaps some fear for her counsellor's bones, 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 Raine would have thought the chimneycorner too cold for you; and here is Matt Chamberlain thinks the cold court-yard is warm enough." CHAP. XXIII.] PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. "Never mind that, dame," said Julian; "do but i belt drawn tight round them, and made fast behind; "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 ?" 'Never, as I knows of," said the dame; "but, about three hours since, arrived a party at the Castle, with buff-coats and bandoleers, and one of the Parliament'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 churchyard, and Matt says it is against law; and so they came in and refreshed men and horse, and sent for Master Bridgenorth, that is at 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, doubt less the 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 Roundheads, as my poor Roger called them, will kill you as they have killed your father! Better creep into the woodhouse, and I will send Bett with a blanket and some supper-Or stay-my old Dobbin stands in the little stable beside 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 farther, only, that just as he turned to go off to the stable, the compassionate O Lord! what will female was heard to exclaim,Matthew Chamberlain say?" but instantly added, "Let him say what he will, I may dispose of what's "Master Bridgenorth," said the lady, making a strong effort to speak, and to speak with calmness, whatever revenge your Christian state of conIn front of him stood the old Knight, whose arms science may permit you to take on my husband-Iwere strongly secured, over the elbows, by a leathern I, who have some right to experience compassion at your hand, for most sincerely did I compassionate] you when the hand of Heaven was heavy on you-I implore you not to involve my son in our common ruin!-Let the destruction of the father and mother, with the ruin of our ancient house, satisfy your resentment for any wrong which you have ever received at my husband's hand." "Hold your peace, housewife," said the Knight; "you speak like a fool, and meddle with what concerns you not.-Wrong at my hand? The cowardly knave has ever had but even too much right. Had I cudgelled the cur soundly when he first bayed at me, the cowardly mongrel had been now crouching at my feet, instead of flying at my throat. But if I get through this action, as I have got through worse weather, I will pay off old scores, as far as tough crab-tree and cold iron will bear me out." "Sir Geoffrey," replied Bridgenorth, "if the birth you boast of has made you blind to better principles, it might have at least taught you civility. What do you complain of? I am a magistrate; and I execute a warrant, addressed to me by the first authority in the state. I am a creditor also of yours; and law arms me with powers to recover my own property from the hands of an improvident debtor." "You a magistrate!" said the Knight; "much such a magistrate as Noll was a monarch. Your heart is up, I warrant, because you have the King's pardon; and are replaced on the bench, forsooth, to persecute the poor Papist. There was never turmoil in the state, but knaves had their vantage by it-never pot boiled, but the scum was cast uppermost." "For God's sake, my dearest husband," said Lady Peveril, cease this wild talk! It cannot but incense Master Bridgenorth, who might otherwise consider, that in common charity" "Incense him!" said Sir Geoffrey, impatiently interrupting her; "God's-death, madam, you will drive me mad! Have you lived so long in this world, and yet expect consideration and charity from an old starved wolf like that? And if he had it, do you think that I, or you, madam, as my wife, are subjects for his charity?-Julian, my poor fellow, I am sorry thou hast come so unluckily, since thy petronel was not better loaded-but thy credit is lost for ever as a marksman." This angry colloquy passed so rapidly on all sides, that Julian, scarce recovered from the extremity of astonishment with which he was overwhelmed at finding himself suddenly plunged into a situation of such extremity, had no time to consider in what way he could most effectually act for the succour of his parents. To speak Bridgenorth fair, seemed the more prudent course; but to this his pride could hardly stoop; yet he forced himself to say, with as much calmness as he could assume, "Master Bridgenorth, since you act as a magistrate, I desire to be treated according to the laws of England; and demand to know of what we are accused, and by whose authority we are arrested?" "Here is another howlet for ye!" exclaimed the impetuous old Knight; "his mother speaks to a Puritan of charity; and thou must talk of law to a roundheaded rebel, with a wannion to you! What warrant hath he, think ye, beyond the Parliament's or the devil's?" "Who speaks of the Parliament?" said a person entering, 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 exclaimed. "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, approaching, "which I mention in my printed Narrative of Information, lodged before the Honourable House of 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 the pikes, musketoons, and pistols, that have been hidden in the garret ever since Naseby fight!" "And here," said the Captain's yoke-fellow, Everett, "are proper priest's trappings-antiphoners, and missals, and copes, I warrant you-ay, and proper pictures, too, for Papists to mutter and bow over." Now plague on thy snuffling whine," said Sir Geoffrey; "here is a rascal will swear my grandmother's old farthingale to be priest's vestments, and the story book of Owlenspiegel, a Popish missa!!" "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." "I think, sir," said Julian, "if you look into your warrant, which, if I mistake not, names the persons whom you are directed to arrest, you will find you have no title to apprehend me." Sir," said the officer, puffing with importance, "I do not know who you are; but I would you 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 that on my assured damnation." 'Why, Captain Dangerfield," said the Captain's smoother, but more dangerous associate,-" verily, it is the same youth whom we saw at the horse-merchant's yesterday; 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?" 'Ay, verily," said Everett, "I have seen him amongst the seminary pupils at Saint 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." "It was I said so, Master Topham," said the undaunted Dangerfield; "and mine is the tongue that will swear it." "Good Master Topham," said Bridgenorth, “you may suspend farther 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." "Be it so," said Bridgenorth, with his usual indifference of manner; "but at present this youth must 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 relics, in the inside on't." "A pistol-shot!" exclaimed Topham; "here might have been a second Sir Edmondsbury 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 vengeance 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 to be returned. Even Bridgenorth's inflexibility seemed to be shaken; and his voice was tremulous, as he answered, "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 strong man, 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 Commons 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," he said, "I neither dispute your authority, nor this gentleman's warrant". "You do not?" said Topham. "O ho, master youngster, I thought we should bring you to your senses presently! "Then, if you so will it, Master Topham," said Bridgenorth, "thus it shall be. You shall set out with early day, taking with you, towards London, the persons 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," answered Bridgenorth. "For this youth, I will take him under my charge, and bring him up myself." "I may not be answerable for that, worthy Master Bridgenorth," said Topham, "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 I counsel you against meddling with him, unless you have stronger guard. Sir Geoffrey is now old and broken, 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 country without a rescue. 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 of my 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 of my father'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 be- "Away with thee!" said the zealous officer; "is "To his having reviled the House of Commonsby G-d, that I will!" said Dangerfield; "I will take it on my damnation." "And verily," said Everett, "as he spoke of Parliament generally, he hath even 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 words almost as soon as they have quitted my lips? I tell you the country is well weary of you; and should Englishmen come to their senses, the jail, the pillory, the whipping-post, and the gibbet, will be too good preferment for such base blood-suckers.-And 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 company 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 little member, but it causes much strife.-You, Master Julian, will please to follow me, and without remonstrance 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 receive his father's blessing, which the old man bestowed not without a tear in his eye, and in the emphatic words, "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 assistance. "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 whether he should consider him as under parole; in which case, he said, he would dispense with all other security but his own promise. Peveril, who could not help hoping somewhat 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 parole for twenty-four hours, neither to attempt to escape by force nor by flight. "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 soon heard; and in obedience to Bridgenorth's signal, and in compliance with his promise, Julian mounted one which was presented to him, and prepared to leave the house of his fathers, 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 family. 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, "It is not every one who would thus unreservedly commit his safety, by travelling at night, and unaided, with the hot-brained youth who so lately attempted his life." Master Bridgenorth," said Julian, "I might tell you truly that I knew you not at the time when I directed my weapon against you; but I must also add, that the cause in which I used it might have rendered me |