sassssmaapi^sssi^^^^^ WAVE R2jE Y II I I I II I **1MMMMIMIfHia38a«S SIR WALTER SCOT THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF Anne Revere PEVERIL OF THE PEAK SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. " If my readers should at any time remark that I am particularly dull, they may be assured there is a design under it."-- British Essayist. WITH STEEL PLATES FROM DESIGNS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, IT. MELVILLE, AND OTHER ARTISTS NEW EDITION, WITH THE AUTHOR'S NOTES LONDON and NEW YORK GEORGE RQUTLEDGE & SONS 1879 SIR WALTER SCOTT'S NOVELS. A NEW EDITION, With the Author's Notes, and Stee 7 Plates by Gforge Cruikshank, J. M. W. Turner, K.A., and other Artists. Complete in 25 vols., Crovn 8vo, cloth, £4 yf. 6d. J2f? : PEVERIL OF THE PEAK INTRODUCTION. If I had valued my own reputation, as it is said I ought in prudence to have done, I might have now drawn a line, and remained for life, or (who knows ?) perhaps for some years after death, the " ingenious author of Waverley." I was not, however, more desirous of this sort of immortality, which might have lasted some twenty or thirty years, than Falstaff of the embowelling which was promised him after the field of Shrewsbury, by his patron the Prince of Wales. " Em- bowel'd ? If you embowel me to-day, you may powder and cat me to- morrow ? " If my occupation as a romancer were taken from me, I felt I should have at a late hour in life to find me out another ; when I could hardly expect to acquire those new tricks, which are proverbially said not to be learned by those dogs who are getting old. Besides, I had yet to learn from the public, that my intrusions were disagreeable ; and while 1 was endured with some patience, I felt I had all the reputation which I greatly coveted. .My memory was well stored, both with historical, local, and traditional notices, and I had become almost as licensed a plague to the public as the well-remembered beggar of the ward, whom men distinguish by their favour, perhaps for no better reason than that they had been in the habit of giving him alms, as a part of the busi- ness of their daily promenade. The general fact is undeniable, — all men grow old, all men must wear out ; but men of ordinary wisdom, however aware of the general fact, are unwilling to admit in their own case any special instances of failure. Indeed, they can hardly be expected themselves to distinguish the effects of the Archbishop of Granada's apoplexy, and are not unwilling to pass over in their com- position, as instances of mere carelessness or bad luck, what others may consider as symptoms of mortal decay. I had no choice save that of absolutely laying aside the pen, the use of which at my time of life was become a habit, or to continue its vagaries, until the public should let me plainly understand they would no more of me ; a hint which I was not unlikely to meet with, and which I was determined to take without waiting for a repetition. This hint, that the reader may plainly understand me, I was determined to take, when the publication of a new Waverley novel should not be the subject of some attention in the literary world. An accidental circumstance decided my choice of a subject for the present work. It was now several years since my immediate younger brother, Thomas Scott, already mentioned in these notes, had resided r* r> A a ^c INTRODUCTION TO for two or three seasons in the Isle of Man, and, having access to the registers of that singular territory, had copied many of them, which he subjected to my "perusal. These papers were put into my hands while my brother had thoughts of making some literary use of them, I do not well remember what ; but he never came to any decision on that head, and grew tired of the task of transcription. The papers, I suppose, were lost in the course of a military man's life. The tenor of them, that is, of the most remarkable, remained engraved on the memory of the author. The interesting and romantic story of William Christian especially struck my fancy. I found the same individual, as well as his father, particularly noticed in some memorials of the island, preserved by the Earl of Derby, and published in Dr. Peck's Desiderata Curiosa. This gentleman was the son of Edward, formerly governor of the island ; and William himself was afterwards one of its two Dempsters, or supreme judges. Both father and son embraced the party of the islanders, and contested some feudal rights claimed by the Earl of Derby as King of the Island. When the Earl had suffered death at Bolton-le-Moors, Captain Christian placed himself at the head of the Roundheads, if they might be so called, and found the means of hold- ing communication with a fleet sent by the Parliament. The island was surrendered to the Parliament by the insurgent Manxmen. The high-spirited Countess and her son were arrested, and cast into prison, where they were long detained, and very indifferently treated. When the restoration took place, the Countess, or by title the Oueen-dowager of the Island, seized upon William Dhone, or Fair-haired William, as William Christian was termed, and caused him to be tried and exe- cuted, according to the laws of the island, for having dethroned his liege mistress, and imprisoned her and her family. Romancers, and readers of romance, will generally allow, that the fate of Christian, and the contrast of his character with that of the high-minded, but vindictive Countess of Derby, famous during the civil wars for her valiant defence of Latham House, contained the essence of an inte- resting tale. I have, however, dwelt little either on the death of William Christian, or on the manner in which Charles II. viewed that stretch of feudal power, and the heavy fine which he imposed upon the Derby estates, for that extent of jurisdiction of which the Countess had been guilty. Far less have I given any opinion on the justice or guilt of that action, which is to this day judged of by the people of the island as they happen to be connected with the sufferer, or perhaps as they may look back with the eyes of favour upon the Cavaliers or Roundheads of those contentious days. I do not conceive that I have done injury to the memory of this gentleman, or any of his descendants in his person ; at the same time I have most willingly given his representative an opportunity of stating in this edition of the Novel what he thinks necessary for the vindication of his ancestor, and the reader will find the exposition in the Notices, for which Mr. Christian desires admission* I could do no less, considering the polite and gentlemanlike manner in which he stated feelings concern- ing his ancestry, to which a Scotsman can hardly be supposed to be indifferent. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 7 In another respect, Mr. Christian with justice complains, that Ed- ward Christian, described in the romance as the brother of the gentle- man executed in consequence of the Countess's arbitrary act of authority, is pourtrayed as a wretch of unbounded depravity, having only ingenuity and courage to rescue him from abhorrence, as well as hatred. Any personal allusion was entirely undesigned on the part of the author. The Edward Christian of the tale is a mere creature of the imagination. Commentators have naturally enough identified him with a brother of William Christian, named Edward, who died in prison after being confined seven or eight years in Peel Castle, in the year 1650. Of him I had no access to know any thing ; and as I was not aware that such a person had existed, I could hardly be said to have traduced his character. It is sufficient for my justification, that there lived at the period of my story a person named Edward Chris- tian, ' : with whom connected, or by whom begot," I am a perfect stranger, but whom we know to have been engaged in such actions as imply his having been guilty of any thing bad. The fact is, that upon the 5th June, 1680, Thomas Blood (the famous crown-stealer), • ird Christian, Arthur O'Brien, and others, were found being concerned in a conspiracy for taking away the life and character of the celebrated Duke of Buckingham ; but that this Edward was the same with the brother of William Christian, is impossible, since that brother died in 1650 ; nor would I have used his christened name of Edward, had I supposed there was a chance of its being connected with any existing family. These genealogical matters are fully illus- trated in the notes to the Appendix. I ought to have mentioned in the former editions of this romance, that Charlotte de la Tremouille, Countess of Derby, represented as a Catholic, was, in fact, a French Protestant. For misrepresenting the noble dame in this manner, I have only Lucio's excuse — " I spoke according to the trick.'' In a story, where the greater part is avowedly fiction, the author is at liberty to introduce such variations from actual fact as his plot requires, or which are calculated to enhance it ; in which predicament the religion of the Countess of Derby, during the Popish Plot, appeared to fall. If I have over- estimated a romancer's privileges and immunities, I am afraid this is not the only, nor most important, case in which I have done so. To speak big words, the heroic Countess has far less grounds for an action of scandal, than the memory of Virgil might be liable to for his posthumous scandal of Dido. The character of Fcnclla, which, from its peculiarity, made a irable impression on the public, was far from being original. The fine sketch of Mignon, in Wilhelm Meister's Lehrjahrc, a celebrated work from the pen of Goethe, gave the idea of such a being. But the copy will be found greatly different from my great prototype ; nor can I be accused of borrowing any thing, save the general idea, from an author, the honour of his own country, and an example to the authors of other kingdoms, to whom all must be proud to own an obligation. Family tradition supplied me with two circumstances, which arc somewhat analogous to that in question. The first is an account of a 8 INTRODUCTION TO lawsuit, taken from a Scottish report of adjudged cases, quoted in note to Chapter VI. The other — of which the editor has no reason to doubt, having often heard it from those who were witnesses of the fact — relates to the power of a female in keeping a secret (sarcastically said to be impossible), even when that secret refers to the exercise of her tongue. In the middle of the eighteenth century, a female wanderer came to the door of Mr. Robert Scott, grandfather of the present author, an opulent farmer in Roxburghshire, and made signs that she desired shelter for the night, which, according to the custom of the times, was readily granted. The next day the country was covered with snow, and the departure of the wanderer was rendered impossible. She remained for many days, her maintenance adding little to the expense of a considerable household ; and by the time that the weather grew milder, she had learned to hold intercourse by signs with the house- hold around her, and could intimate to them that she was desirous of staying where she was, and working at the wheel and other employ- ment, to compensate for her food. This was a compact not unfrequent at that time, and the dumb woman entered upon her thrift, and proved a useful member of the patriarchal household. She was a good spinner, knitter, carder, and so forth, but her excellence lay in attend- ing to the feeding and bringing up the domestic poultry. Her mode of whistling to call them together was so peculiarly elfish and shrill, that it was thought, by those who heard it, more like that of a fairy than a human being. In this manner she lived three or four years, nor was there the slightest idea entertained in the family that she was other than the mute and deprived person she had always appeared. But in a moment of surprise, she dropped the mask which she had worn so long. It chanced upon a Sunday that the whole inhabitants of the house- hold were at church excepting Dumb Lizzie, whose infirmity was supposed to render her incapable of profiting by divine service, and who therefore stayed at home to take charge of the house. It hap- pened that, as she was sitting in the kitchen, a mischievous shepherd boy, instead of looking after his flock on the lea, as was his duty, slunk into the house to see what he could pick up, or perhaps out of mere curiosity. Being tempted by something which was in his eyes a nicety, he put forth his hand, unseen, as he conceived, to appropriate it. The dumb woman came suddenly upon him, and in the surprise, forgot her part, and exclaimed, in loud Scotch, and with distinct arti- culation, "Ah, you little deevil's limb !" The boy, terrified more by the character of the person who rebuked him, than by the mere cir- cumstance of having been taken in the insignificant offence, fled in great dismay to the church, to carry the miraculous news that the dumb woman had found her tongue. The family returned home in great surprise, but found that their inmate had relapsed into her usual mute condition, would communicate with them only by signs, and in that manner denied positively what the boy affirmed. From this time confidence was broken betwixt the other inmates of PEVJiKiL Ob THE PEAK. 9 the family and their dumb, or rather silent, guest. Traps were laid for the supposed impostor, all of which she skilfully eluded ; firearms were often suddenly discharged near her, but never on such occasions was she seen to start. It seems probable, however, that Lizzie grew tired of all this mistrust, for she one morning disappeared as she came, without any ceremony of leave-taking. She was seen, it is said, upon the other side of the English border, in perfect possession of her speech. Whether this was exactly the case or not, my informers were no way anxious in enquiring, nor am I able to authenticate the fact. The shepherd boy lived to be a man, and always averred that she had spoken distinctly to him. What could be the woman's reason for persevering so long in a disguise as unnecessary as it was severe, could never be guessed, and was perhaps the consequence of a certain aberration of the mind. I can only add, that I have every reason to believe the talc to be perfectly authentic, so far as it is here given, and it may serve to parallel the supposed case of Fenella. AD DOTS FORD, ist July, 1 83 1 APPENDIX. No. I. THE following Notices were recommended to my attention, in the politest manner possible, by John Christian, Esq. of Milntown, in the Isle of Man, and Unrigg, in Cumberland, Dempster at present of the Isle of Man. This gentleman is naturally interested in the facts which are stated, as representative of the respectable family of Christian, and lineally descended from William Dhone, put to death by the Countess of Derby. I can be no way interested in refusing Mr. Christian this justice, and willingly lend my aid to extend the exculpation of the family. HISTORICAL NOTICES OF EDWARD AND WILLIAM CHRISTIAN ; TWO CHARACTERS IN "PEVERIL OF THE PEAK." THE venerable Dr. Dryasdust, in a preparatory dialogue, apprizes the Eidolon, or apparition of the author, that he stood " much accused for adulterating the pure sources of historical knowledge;" and is answered by that emanation of genius, " that he has done some service to the public 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 ;" " that by intro- ducing to the busy and the youthful, ' Truths severe in fairy fiction dress'd,' and by creating an interest in fictitious adventures ascribed to a his- torical 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/' The adventures ascribed to ''historical characters" would, however, fail in their moral aim, if fiction were placed at variance with truth ; if Hampden, or Sydney, for example, were painted as swindlers : or Lady Jane Grey, or Rachel Russel, as abandoned women. " Odzooks ! must one swear to the truth of a song?" although an excellent joke, were a bad palliation in such a case. Fancy may be fairly indulged in the illustration, but not in the perversion of fact ; and 'if the fictitious picture should have no general resemblance to the original, the flourish of " Truths severe in fairy fiction dress'd," were but an aggravation of the wrong. APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. II The family of Christian is indebted to this splendid luminary of the North for abundant notoriety. The William Christian represented on one part as an ungrateful traitor, on the other as the victim of a judicial murder, and his brother (or relative) Edward, one of the suite of a Duke* of Buckingham, were so far real historical persons. Whether the talents and skill of Edward in imposing on Fenella a feigned silence of several years, be among the legitimate or supernatural wonders of this fertile genius, his fair readers do not seem to be agreed. Whether the residue of the canvas, filled up with a masterly picture of the most consummate hypocrite and satanic villain ever presented to the imagination, be consistent with the historical character of this individual, is an ongthe subjects of research to which the novelist has given a direct invitation in his prefatory chapter. English history furnishes few materials to aid the investigation of transactions chiefly confined to the Lie of Man. Circumstances led me, many years ago, to visit this ancient Lilliput ; whether as one of those "smart fellows worth talking to," "in consequence of ; from my barouche," "as a ruined miner," or as "a disappointed speculator," is of no material import. It may be that temporary em- barrassment drove me into seclusion, without any of the irresistible inducements alluded to; and want of employment, added to the acquaintance and aid of a zealous local antiquary, gradu;;' to an examination of all accessible authorities on this very subject among others. So it happened, that I had not landed many hours before I found the mournful ditty of "William Dhone'' (drozan oxfair-ha William, this very identical William Christian) twanged through the dcmi-nasal, demi-guttural trumpet of the carman, and landlady's pretty daughter ; in short, making as great a figure in its little sphere as did once the more important ballad of Chevy Chase in its wider range ; the burden of the song purporting that William Dhone was the mirror of virtue and patriotism, and ti . hatred, and malice, and all uncharitableness, operate the destruction of the wisest and the best. Themes of popular feeling naturally attract the earliest notice of a stranger; and I found the story of this individual, though abundantly garbled and discoloured on the insular records, full of circumstances to excite the deepest interest, but which, to be rendered intelligible, must be approached by a circuitous route, in which neither elfin page, nor maiden fair, can be the companion of our walk. The loyal and celebrated James, seventh Earl of Derby, was induced, by the circumstances of the times, to fix his chief residence in the Isle of Man from i (43 to 165 1.* During this period he composed, in form of a letter* to his son Charles (Lord Strange), an hi rical account of that island, with a statement of his own proceedings there; intersper ' litical advice for th nee of his suc- cessor; full of acute observation, and evincing an intimate acquaint- ance with the works whii h il (ears, bj aq tion,* that he had studied in a Latin edition. The work, although formally divided into chapters and numbered p phs, is pr< 1 ly desul- . and furnishes few means the relative 1 1 his J2 ArPF.NDIX TO INTRODUCTION'. facts, which must accordingly be supplied by internal evidence, and in some cases by conjecture. He appears to have been drawn thither, in 1643, by letters* inti- mating the danger of a revolt : the " people had begun the fashion of England in murmuring ;" " assembled in a tumultuous manner ; de- siring new laws, they would have no bishops, pay no tithes to the clergTe, despised authority, rescued people committed by the Gover- nor," &c. &c. The Earl's first care was to apply himself to the consideration of these insurrectionary movements ; and as he found some interruption to his proceedings in the conduct of Edward Christian* an attempt shall be made, so far as our limits will admit, to extract the Earl's own account of this person. " I was newly* got acquainted with Captain Christian, whom I perceived to have abilities enough to do me service. I was told he had made a good fortune in the Indies ; that he was a Mankesman born." - - " He is excellent good companie ; as rude as a sea captain should be ; but refined as one that had civilized himself half a year at Court, where he served the Duke of Buckingham." - - - " While he governed here some few years he pleased me very well," &c. &c. " But such is the condition of man, that most will have some fault or other to blurr all their best vertues ; and his was of that con- dition which is reckoned with drunkenness, viz. covetousness, both marked with age to increase and grow in man." - - " When a Prince has given all, and the favourite can desire no more, they both grow weary of one another."* - An account of the Earl's successive public meetings, short, from the limits of our sketch, is extracted in a note* from the headings of the chapters (apparently composed by Peck). In the last of these meet- ings it appears that Edward Christian attempted at its close to re- capitulate the business of the day : " Asked if we did not agree thus and thus," mentioning some things (says the Earl) " he had instructed the people to aske ; which happily they had forgot." The Earl accord- ingly rose in wrath, and, after a short speech, " bade the court to rise, and no man to speak more."—" Some," he adds, " were committed to prison, and there abided, until, upon submission and assurance of being very good and quiet, they were released, and others were put into their rooms. — I thought fit to make them be deeply fined j since this they all come in most submisse and loving manner."* Pretty efficient means of producing quiet, if the despot be strong enough, and with it such love as suits a despot's fancy ! Among the prisoners were Edward Christian and his brother William of Knockrushen ; the latter was released in 1644, on giving bond, among other conditions, not to depart the island without license. Of Edward, the Earl says, " I will return unto Captain Christian, whose business -must be heard next week" (either in 1644 or early in 1645). '"' ^ c is still in prison, and I believe many wonder thereat, as savouring of injustice, and that his trial should be deferred so long." " Also his business is of that condition that it concerns not himself alone." " If a Jurie of the people do passe upon him (being he had so cajoled them to believe he suffers for their sakes),.it is likely they should quit him, and then might he laugh at us, whom I had rather APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. 13 he had betrayed."' " I remember one said it was much safer to take men's lives than their estates : for their children will sooner much forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimonii"* Edward died in custody in Peel Castle in 1650,* after an imprisonment of between seven and eight years ; and so far, at least, no ground can be discovered for that gratitude which is afterwards said to have been violated by this family, unless indeed we transplant ourselves to those countries where it is the fashion to flog a public officer one day and replace him in authority the next. The insular records detail with minuteness the complaints of the people relative to the exactions of the church, and their adjustment by a sort of public arbitration in October 1643. But it is singular, that neither in these records, nor in the Earl's very studied narrative of the modes of discussion, the offences, and the punishments, is one word to be found regarding the more important points actually at issue between himself and the people. The fact, however, is fully developed, as if by accident, in one of the chapters (xvi.) of this very desultory but saga- cious performance. " There comes this very instant an occasion to me to acquaint you with a special matter, which, if by reason of these troublesome and dangerous times, I cannot bring to passe my intents therein, you may in your better leisure consider thereof, and make some use hereafter of my present labours, in the matter of a certain holding in this country, called the tenure of the straw ;* v. hereby men thinke their dwellings are their own auutient inheritances^ and that they may passe the same to any, and dispose thereof without license from the Lord, but paying him a bare small rent like unto a fee-farme in England : wherein they are much deceived." William the Conqueror, among his plans for the benefit of his English subjects, adopted that of inducing or compelling them to sur- render their allodial lands, and receive them back to hold by feudal tenure. The Earl of Derby projected the surrender of a similar right, in order to create tenures more profitable to himself— a simple lease for three lives, or twenty-one years. The measure was entirely novel, although the attempt to prevent* alienation without license from the lord, for purposes of a less profitable exaction, may be traced, together with the scenes of violence it produced, through many pas- sages in the ancient records, which would be inexplicable without this clue. The Earl proceeded, certainly with sufficient energy and con- siderable skill, to the accomplishment of his object. In the very year of his arrival, Dec. 1643, he appointed commissioners* to compound for leases, consisting of some of his principal officers (members of council), who had themselves been prevailed on by adequate con- siderations to surrender their estates, and are by general tradition accused of having conspired to delude their simple countrymen into the persuasion, that having no title-deeds, their estates were insecure ; that leases were title-deeds ; and although nominally for limited terms, declared the lands to be descendible to their eldest sons. It is remarkable that the names of Eivan and William Christian, two of the council, are alone excluded from this commission. We have already seen two of the name committed to prison. The i 4 APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. following notices, which abundantly unfold the ground of the Earl's hostility to the name of Christian, relate to Ewan Christian, the father of William Dhone, and one of the Deemsters excluded from the com- mission. " One presented me a petition against Deemster* Christian, on the behalf of an infant who is conceived to have a right unto his Farme Rainsway (Ronaldsway), one of the principal holdings in this country, who, by reason of his eminencie here, and that he holdeth much of the same tenure of the straw in other places, he is soe observed, that certainly as I temper the matter with him in this, soe shall I pre- vail with others."* - - - "By policie* they (the Christains) are crept into the principal places of power, and they be seated round about the country, and in the heart of it ; they are matched with the best families," &c. " The prayer of the petition* formerly mentioned was to this effect, that there might be a fair tryal, and when the right was recovered, that I would graunt them a lease thereof— this being in the tenure of the straw:' ---''■ Upon some conference with the petitioner, I find a motion heretofore was made by my commissioners, that the Deemster should give this fellow a siimme of money. But he would part with none, neverthelesse, now it may be he will, and I hope be so wise as to assure unto himself his holding, by compounding with me for the lease of the same, to which, if they two agree, I shall grant it him on easy terms. For if he break the ice, I may haply catch some fish."* The issue of this piscatory project was but too successful. Ewan bent to the reign of terror, and gave up Ronaldsway to his son William, who accepted the lease, and named his own descendants for the lives. Still the objects attained were unsubstantial, as being contrary to all law, written or oral ; and the system was incomplete, until sanctioned by the semblance of legislative confirmation. We have seen that the Earl had in the island a considerable military force, and we know from other sources* that they lived in a great measure at free quarters. We have his own testimony for stating, that he achieved his objects by imprisoning, until his prisoners " promised to be good ; " and successively filling their places with others, until they also conformed to his theory of public virtue. And the reader will be prepared to hear, without surprise, that the same means enabled him, in 1645, to arrange a legislature* capable of yielding a forced assent to this notable system of submission and loving kindness. This is perhaps the most convenient place for stating, that, in the subsequent surrender of the Island to the troops of the Parliament, the only stipulation made by the Islanders was, "that they might enjoy their lands and liberties as they formerly had." In what manner this stipula- tion was performed, my notes do not enable me to state. The restora- tion of Charles II., propitious in other respects, inflicted on the Isle of Man the revival of its feudal government ; and the affair of the tenures continued to be a theme of perpetual contest and unavailing complaint, until finally adjusted in 1703, through the mediation of the excellent Bishop Wilson in a legislative com.promise, known by the name of the Act of Settlement, whereby the people obtained a full recognition of their ancient rights, on condition of doubling the actual quit rents, and consenting to alienation fines, first exacted by the Earl James in 1643 * APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. 15 In 1640, William Dhone was appointed Receiver General ; and in the same year we find his elder brother, John, (assistant Deemster to his father Ewan,) committed to Peel Castle on one of these occasions, which strongly marks the character of the person and the times, and affords also a glimpse at the feeling of the people, and at the condition of the devoted family of Christian. The inquisitive will find it in a note ; * other readers will pass on. The circumstances are familiarly known, to the reader of English history', of the-march of the Earl of Derby, in 165 1, with a corps from the Isle of .Alan for the service of the King ; his joining the royal army on the eve of the battle of Worcester ; his flight and imprisonment at Chester, after that signal defeat ; and his trial and execution at Bolton in Lancashire, by the officers of the Parliament, on the 15th October of that year. Immediately afterwards, Colonel Duckenfield, who commanded at Chester on behalf of the Parliament, proceeded with an armament of ten ships, and a considerable military force, for the reduction of the I ale of Man. William Christian was condemned and executed in 1662-3, for acts connected with its surrender, twelve years before, which are still in- volved in obscurity ; and it will be most acceptable to the general reader that we should pass over the intermediate period * and leave the facts regarding this individual, all of them extraordinary, and some of peculiar interest, to be developed by the record of the trial, and documents derived from other sources. A mandate by Charles, 8th Earl of Derby, dated at Latham in Sep- tember, 1662, after descanting on the heinous sin of rebellion, ''aggravated by its being instrumental* in the death of the Lord ; and stating that he is himself concerned to revenge a father's blood," orders William Christian to be proceeded against forthwith, for all his illegal actions at, before, or after, the year 165 1, (a pretty sweeping range). The indictment charges him with " being the head of an in- surrection against the Countess of Derby in 1651, assuming the power unto himself, and depriving her Ladyship, his Lordship, and heirs thereof.'' A series of depositions appear on record from the 3rd to the 13th October, and a reference by the precious depositaries of justice of that day. to the twenty-four Keys,* "Whether upon the examination taken and read before, you find Mr. W. Christian of Ronaldsway, within compass he statute of the year 1422, — that is, to receive a sentence wit quest, or to be tried in the ordinary course of law." This body, designated on the record " so many of the Keys as were then present," in number seventeen ; but not being yet sufficiently select to ap- prove of sentence without trial, made their return, To be tried by course of law. On the 26th November, it is recorded, that the Governor and \t- -■y-General having proceeded to the jail "with a guard of soldiers, to require him (Christian) to the bar to receive his trial, he refused, and denied to come, and abide the same " — (admirable courtesy to invite, instead of bringing him to the bar !) Whereupon the Governor mded the law of Deemster N orris, who then sat in judication. !6 appendix to introduction. Deemster John Christian having not appeared, and Mr. Edward Chris- tian * his son, and assistant, having also forborne to sit in this Court, he the said Deemster Norris craved the advice and assistance of the twenty-four Keys ; and the said Deemster and Keys deemed the law therein, to wit, that he is at the mercy of the Lord for life and goods. It will be observed, that seven of the Keys were formerly absent, on what account we shall presently see. All this was very cleverly arranged by the following recorded order, 29th December — " These of the twenty-four Keys arc removed of that Company, in reference to my Honourable Lord's order in that behalf;" enumerating seven names, not of the seventeen before mentioned, and naming seven others who " are sworn * in their places." The judicature is farther im- proved by transferring an eighth individual of the first seventeen to the council, and filling his place with another proper person. These facts have been related with some minuteness of detail for two reasons ; 1st, Although nearly equalled by some of the subsequent proceedings, they would not be credited on common authority ; and 2nd, They render all comment unnecessary, and prepare the reader for any judg- ment, however extraordinary, to be expected from such a tribunal. Then come the proceedings of the 29th December — The Proposals, as they are named, to the Deemsters,* and twenty-four Keys now as- sembled, " to be answered in point of law." 1st, Any malefactor, &c. being indicted, &c. and denying to abide the law of his country in that course (notwithstanding any argument or plea he may offer for himself), and thereupon deemed to forfeit body and goods, &c. whether he may afterwards obtain the same benefit, &c. &c. ; to which, on the same day, they answered in the negative. It was found practicable, on the 31st, to bring the prisoner to the bar, to hear his sentence of being " shot to death, that thereupon his life may depart from his body;" which sentence was executed on the 2nd of January, 1663. That he made " an excellent speech " at the place of execution, is recorded, where we should little expect to find it, in the Parochial Register ; the accuracy of that which has been preserved as such in the family of a clergyman (and appears to have been printed on or before 1776),* rests chiefly on internal evidence; and on its ac- cordance, in some material points, with facts suppressed or distorted in the Records, but established in the proceedings of the Privy Council. It is therefore given without abbreviation, and the material points of evidence in the voluminous depositions on both trials* are extracted for reference in a note.* The last speech of William Christian, Esq., who was executed 2nd January, 1662-3 : " Gentlemen, and the rest of you who have accompanied me this day to the gate of death, I know 'you expect I should say something at my departure ; and indeed I am in some measure willing to satisfy you, having not had the least liberty, since my imprisonment, to acquaint any with the sadness of my sufferings, which flesh and blood could not have endured, without the power and assistance of my most gracious and good God, into whose hands I do now commit my poor soul, not doubting but that I shall very quickly be in the arms of his mercy. APPENDIX TO INTRODUCTION. 17 " I am, as you now see, hurried hither by the power of a pretended court of justice, the members whereof, or at least the greatest part of them, are by no means qualified, but very ill-befitting their new places. The reasons you may give yourselves. " The cause for which I am brought hither, as the prompted and threatened jury has delivered, is high treason against the Countess Dowager of Derby, for that I did, as they say, in the year fifty-one, raise a force against her for the suppressing and rooting out that family. How unjust the accusation is, very few of you that hear me this day but can witness ; and that the then rising of the people, in which afterwards I came to be engaged, did not at all, or in the least degree, intend the prejudice or ruin of that family ; the chief whereof being, as you well remember, dead eight days, or thereabout, before that action happened. But the true cause of that rising, as * the jury did twice bring in, was to present grievances to our Honour- able Lady ; which was done by me, and afterwards approved by her Ladyship, under the hand of her then secretary, M. Trevach, who is yet living, which agreement hath since, to my own ruin and my poor family's endless sorrow, been forced from me. The Lord God forgive them the injustice of their dealings with me, and I wish from my heart it may not be laid to their charge another day ! " You now see me here a sacrifice ready to be offered up for that which was the preservation of your lives and fortunes which were then in hazard, but that /stood between you and your (then in all appear- ance) utter ruin. I wish you still may, as hitherto, enjoy the sweet benefit and blessing of peace, though from that minute until now I have still been prosecuted and persecuted, nor have I ever since found a place to rest myself in. But my God be for ever blessed and praised, who hath given me so large a measure of patience ! " What services I have done for that Noble Family, by whose power I am now to take my latest breath, I dare appeal to themselves, whether I have not deserved better things from some of them, than the sentence of my bodily destruction, and seizure of the poor estate my son ought to enjoy, being purchased and left him by his grand- father. It might have been much better had I not spent it in the service of my Honourable Lord of Derby and his family; these things I need not mention to you, for that most of you arc witnesses to it. I shall now beg your patience while I tell you here, in the presence of God, that t never in all my life acted any thing with intention to pre- judice my Sovereign Lord the King, nor the late Earl of Derby, nor the now Earl ; yet notwithstanding, being in England i time, or of | . are willing to sit down contented with the slight information which 1. acquired in such a manner. The great o 34 PREFATORY LETTER. Duke of Marlborough, for example, having quoted, in conversation, some fact of English history rather inaccurately, 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 portion of British story. Dryasdust. 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 keep a pattern before our eyes, though that pattern be inimitable. Dryasdust. 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 Derby fetched out of her cold grave, and saddled with a set of adventures dated twenty years after her death, besides being given up as a Catholic, when she was in fact a zealous Huguenot. Author. She may sue me for damages, as in the case Dido versus Virgil. Dryasdust. A worse fault is, that your manners are even more incorrect than usual. Your Puritan is faintly traced, in comparison to your Cameronian. Author. I agree to the charge ; but although I still consider hypociisy and enthusiasm as fit food for ridicule and satire, yet I am sensible of the difficulty of holding fanaticism up to laughter or abhorrence, without using colouring which may give offence to the sincerely worthy and religious. 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 altoge- ther sympathize With them. Dryasdust. 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 stranger — 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 imitate 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 Dryasdust. Michaelmas-day, 1822, York.. 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 folk together by the ears — Butler. William, the Conqueror of England, was, or supposed 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 monarch, 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 the adjacent villa From this feudal Baron, who chose his nest upon the principles on which an eagle selects her cyry, and built it in such a fashion as if he had intended it, as an Irishman said of the Martcllo towers, for the sole purpose of puzzling posterity, there was, or conceived themselves to be, descended 'for their pedigree was rather hypothetical) an opulent family of knightly rank, in the same 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 William's descendants, though no longer possessed of what they alleged to have been their original property, were long distinguished by the proud title of Peverils of the Peak, which served to mark their high descent, and lofty pretensions. In Charles the Second's time, the representative of this ancient family was Sir Geoffrey Peveril, a man who had many of the ordinary attributes of an old-fashioned country gentleman, and very few indi- vidual 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 ab- stracted from his own prejudices — he was proud of his birth, lavish in his 1 convivial with those kindred ami acquaintances, wh" illow his superiority in rani tentious and quarrelsome with all that crossed his orctensions — kind to the poor, except when ■ D 2 36 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. they plundered 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 Pro- testant faith. There was at least such a scandal amongst the Puritans, and the influence which Sir Geoffrey Peveril certainly appeared 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 farther 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 influences the sluggish waters of the deadest meer. When the Civil Wars broke out, Peveril of the Peak, proud from pedigree, and brave by constitution, raised a regiment for the King, and showed upon several occasions more capacity for 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 inducements, 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 successful general of cavalry. The defeated cavalier escaped from the field of battle, and, like a true descendant of William the Conqueror, disdaining submis- sion, threw himself into his own castellated mansion, 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 those unhappy wars. Martindale Castle, after having suffered severely from the cannon which Cromwell himself brought against it, was at length surrendered when in 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 fine and sequestration. But neither his forced promise, nor the fear of farther unpleasant consequences to his person or property, could prevent Peveril of the Peak from joining the gallant Earl of Derby the night before the fatal engagement in Wiggan-lane, where the Earl's forces were dispersed. Sir Geoffrey having had his share in that action, escaped with the relics of the royalists after the defeat, to join Charles II. He wit- nessed also the final defeat of Worcester, where he was a second time made prisoner ; and as, in the opinion of Cromwell and the language of the times, he was regarded as an obstinate malignant, he was in great danger of having shared with the Earl of Derby his execution at BoIton-le-Moor, having partaken with him the dangers of two actions. But Sir Geoffrey's life was preserved by the interest of a friend, who PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 37 possessed influence in the councils of Oliver. This was a Mr. Bridge- north, a gentleman of middling quality, whose father had been suc- cessful in some commercial adventure during the peaceful reign of James I. ; and who had bequeathed his son a considerable sum of money, in addition to the moderate patrimony which he inherited from his father. The substantial, though small-sized brick building 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 — the rather that Bridge- north, though he did not at heart admit Sir Geoffrey's claims of superiority to the extent which the other's vanity would have exacted, paid deference in a reasonable degree to the representative of a family so much more ancient and important than his own, without conceiv- ing that he in any respect degraded himself by doing so. •Mj". Bridgenorth did not, however, carry his complaisance so far as to embrace Sir Geoffrey's side during the Civil War. On the contrary, as an active Justice of the Peace, he rendered much assistance 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 that these were likely to be obtained by joining the Parliament ; while the King's cause, as it was managed, held out nothing to the wealthy but a course of exaction and compulsory loans. For these reasons, Bridgenorth became a decided Roundhead, and all friendly communication betwixt his neighbour and him was abruptly 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 service, resided chiefly in London, and only occasion- ally visited the Hall. Upon these visits, it was with great pleasure he received the intelli- gence, that Lady Pevcril had shown much kindness to Mrs. Bridge- north, 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 have with Mrs. Bridgenorth, who deemed herself much honoured in being thus admitted into the society of so distinguished a lady. Major Bridge- north heard of this growing intimacy with great pleasure, and he determined t<> repay the obligation, as far as lie could without much hurt to himself, by interfering with all hi. inlluenc , in behalf of her unfortunate husband. It was chiefly owing to Major Bridgenorth's 38 FKVERIL OF THE PEAK. mediation, that Sir Geoffrey's life was saved after the battle of Wor- cester. 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 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 committeeman did not, by any means, lose sight of his own interest 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 acquisition. But then it was also true, that the unfortunate owner must have submitted to much worse conditions, had the committeeman used, as others did, the full advantages which his situation gave him ; and Bridgenorth 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 Mr. Bridgenorth seemed to bear his exultation with great moderation, and was disposed to show him personally the same deference in his present sunshine of prosperity, which he had exhibited formerly in their early acquaintance. It is but justice to Major Bridgenorth to observe, that in this conduct he paid respect as much to the misfor- tunes as to the pretensions of his far-descended neighbour, and that, with the frank generosity 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 delicacy, in con- sideration of which he forgot many things. He forgot that Major Bridgenorth was already in possession of 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 altered situation in which they and their mansions now stood to each other. Before the Civil War, the superb battlements and turrets of Martin- dale Castle 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 augmented 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 appear 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 disadvan- tageous^ for himself as the appearance of their mansions ; and that though the authority of the man in office under the Parliament, the sequestrator, and the committeeman, had been only exerted for the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 39 protection of the cavalier 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 patience, 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 and execution 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 immunities and privileges for which the Long Parliament had at first contended, would be the surest and most desirable termination to the mutations in state affairs which had agitated Britain. Indeed, the Major's ideas on this point approached so nearly those of his neigh- bour, that he had wellnigh 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 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 considered, during the last years of Cromwell's domination, and the interregnum which succeeded, as a disaffected person to the Commonwealth, and a favourer of Charles Stewart. But besides this approximation to the same political opinion's, another bond of intimacy united the families of the Castle and the Hall. Major Bridgenorth, fortunate, 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 compassion to his poorer and more decayed neighbour. Betwixt the breaking out of the Civil War and the Restoration, he lost successively a family (if 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 heart 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 affectionate wife, whose constitution had been ex- hausted by maternal grief, and by the anxious and harrowing reflection, 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 longer a hu hand. 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 Geoffrey, who did not fail to be with his neighbour at this distressing conjuncture, even though Ik- knew he must meet the Pre sbyterian pastor, nor the ghostly 4o PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. exhortations of this latter person, were able to rouse the unfortunate widower. At length Lady Peveril, with the ready invention of a female sharp- ened by the sight of distress and the feelings of sympathy, tried on the sufferer one of those experiments by which grief is often awakened from despondency into tears. She placed in Bridgenorth's arms the infant whose birth had cost him so dear, and conjured 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 unhappy 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. Lady Peveril did not say " be comforted," but she ventured to promise that the blossom should ripen to fruit. " Never, never !" said Bridgenorth ; " take the unhappy child away, and let me only know when I shall wear black for her — Wear black !" he exclaimed, interrupting himself, " what other colour shall I wear during the remainder of my life ? " " I will take the child for a season, - ' said Lady Peveril, " since the sight of her is so painful to you ; and the little Alice shall share the nursery of our Julian, until it shall be pleasure and not pain for you to look on her.'' ' That hour will never come," said the unhappy father ; " her doom is written— she will follow the rest— God's will be done.— Lady, I thank you— I trust her to your care ; and I thank God that my eye shall not see her dying agonies." Without detaining the reader's attention longeron 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 hold of life was preserved, since the glimmering spark might probably have been altogether smothered, had it, like the Major's former children, undergone the over-care and over-nursing of a mother rendered ner- vously cautious 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 healthy child of three years old, to Julian's being sub- jected 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 equally 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 exertions 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 compassionated the sorrows of his neighbour, that he entirely forgot his being a Presbyterian, until PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 4 i it became necessary that the infant should be christened by a teacher of that persuasion. This was a trying case — the father seemed incapable of giving direc- tion ; and that the threshold of Martindale Castle should be violated by the heretical step of a dissenting clergyman, was matter of horror to its orthodox 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 entered like iron into his soul. Yet such was Lady Peveril'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 properly within the precincts of the Castle wall. The lady even dared to be present while the ceremony was performed by the reverend Master Solsgrace, who had once preached a sermon of three hours' length before the House of Commons, upon a thanks- giving occasion after the relief of Exeter. Sir Geoffrey Peveril took care to be absent the whole clay from the Castle, and it was only from the great interest which he took in the washing, perfuming, and as it were purification of the summer-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 entertain against his neighbour's form of religion, they did not in any way inllucnce his feelings towards him as a sufferer under severe affliction. The mode in which he showed his sympathy was rather singular, but exactly suited the character of both, and the terms on which they stood with each other. Morning after morning the p;ood Baronet made Moultrassie 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 sat in solitary wretchedness and despondency ; but mure frequently, (for Sir Geoffrey did not pretend to great talents 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'.^ military rank of Major ;) " I just looked 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 became 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 approached. At length the expectation of that passing minute became the pivot upon which the thoughts of poor Bridgenorth turned during all the of the day. .Most men have known the inllucnce of such brief but ruling moments at some period of their lives. The moment when a lover passes the window of his mistress — the moment when tire epicure 3 the dinner-bell, is that into which is crowded the whole intere t of the day— the hours which precede it are spent in anticipation ; the 4 a PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. hours which follow, in reflection on what has passed ; and fancy dwell- ing 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 Geoffrey, or the heavy tramp of his war-horse, Black Hastings, which had borne him in many an action ; he could hear the hum of " The King shall enjoy his own again," or the habitual whistle of " Cuckolds and Round- heads," 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 over- whelming violence, and permitted him to attend, in some degree, to what passed around him, to discharge various duties which pressed upon him, and to give a share of attention to the situation of the country, distracted as it was by the contending factions, whose strife only termi- nated 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 short a distance from the being in whose existence he was more interested than in any thing the world afforded, he only made himself acquainted 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 evening 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 remaining pledge of affection was soon to be con- veyed to that grave which had already devoured all besides that was dear to him ; and he awaited in miserable suspense the moment when he should hear that symptoms of the fatal malady had begun to show themselves. The voice of Peveril continued to be that of a comforter, until the month of April, 1660, when it suddenly 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 burden 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, while he called out, " Up ! up, neighbour ! 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 mercy. I will get your full pardon." " What means all this ?" said Bridgenorth — " Is all well with you — all well at Martindale Castle, Sir Geoffrey ? " " 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 43 in Duff 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 I, 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 cavaliers heart became too full. He threw himself on a seat, and exclaiming, " Did ever I think to live to see this happy day ! " he wept, to his own surprise, as much as to that of Bridgcnorth. Upon considering the crisis in which the country was placed, it ap- peared to Major Bridgcnorth, 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 uncertainty and varied oppression at- tending the repeated contests between the factions of Westminster Hall and of Wallingford House. Accordingly, he joined with Sir Geoffrey, with less enthusiasm indeed, but with equal sincerity, taking such measures as seemed proper to secure their part of the country on the King's behalf, which was done as effectually and peaceably as in other parts of England. The neighbours were both at Chesterfield, when news arrived that the King had 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 Pevcril will ever return to Martindale? Titles must be going amongst them yonder, and I have deserved 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 v 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 Countess when I come back ; all will go well with you now you are turned honest man.'' " I always meant to be so, Sii y," said Bridgcnorth, calmly. " Well, well, well— no offence meant," said the Knight, " all is well -so you to Moultrassie Hall, and I to Whitehall. Said I well. 44 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. aha ! So ho, mine host, a stoup of Canary to the King's health 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 a safe return." CHAPTER II. Why then, we will have bellowing of beeves, Broaching of barrels, brandishing of spigots ; Blood shall flow freely, but it shall be gore Of herds and flocks, and venison and poultry, Join'd to the brave heart's-blood of Jobn-a-Barleycorn ! Old Play. Whatever rewards Charles might have condescended to bestow in acknowledgment of the sufferings and loyalty of Peveril of the Peak, he had none in his disposal equal to the pleasure which Providence had reserved for Bridgenorth on his return to Derbyshire. The exer- tion to which he had been summoned, had had the usual effect of restoring to a certain extent the activity and energy of his character, and he felt it would be unbecoming to relapse into the state of lethargic melancholy 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 regretting that he could not expect the indirect news of his daughter's health, which Sir Geoffrey used to communi- cate in his almost daily call, he reflected that it would be in every respect becoming that he should pay a personal visit at Martindale Castle, carry thither the remembrances of the knight to his lady, assure her of his health, and satisfy himself respecting that of his daughter. He armed himself for the worst — he called to recollection the thin cheeks, faded eye, wasted hand, pallid 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 birth, gliding to the grave which ought to enclose 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, to 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 Geoffrey's repeated attempts in favour of the Stewarts led him into new misfortunes, that when, the other morning, I saw him once more dressed in his fatal armour, and heard the sound PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 45 of his trumpet, which had been so long silent, it seemed to me as it" 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 Peveril, a tine boy betwixt four and five years old, led in his hand, with an air of dignitied 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 companion. Bridgenorth cast a hasty and fearful glance upon the countenance of his daughter, hand, even in that glimpse, 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 attentively ; he satisfied himself that the com- plexion 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, thanks to you, madam, who have been his instrument." "Julian must lose his playfellow now, I suppose?" said the lady ; " but the Hall is not distant, and I will see my little charge often. Dame Martha, the housekeeper at Moultrassie, has sense, and is careful. I will tell her the rules I have observed with little Alice, and "' " God forbid my girl should ever come to Moultrassie," said Major Bridgenorth, hastily ; " it has been the: grave of her race. The air of the low grounds suited them 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 Bridge- north," 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. 1 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 Major Bridgenorth. It was precisely the point which he would have given worlds to arrive at, but which he saw no chance of attaining. It is too well known, that tho^e whose families are long pursued by such a fatal disease as existed in his, become, it may be said, supei iti tious respecting its fatal effects, and ascribe to place, circumstance, and individual care, much more perhaps than these can in any case con- tribute to avert the fatality of constitutional distemper. Lady Peveril 46 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. was aware that this was peculiarly the impression of her neighbour ; that the depression of his spirits, the excess of his care, the feverish- ness 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 interested 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 human 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 malady, so inveterate in the family of Bridgenorth. It needed not, perhaps, in other cases, that so many reasons should be assigned for an act of neighbourly humanity ; 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 stating 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 thankful 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 parentage only. He uses the Church Service, and I the Catechism ot the Assembly of Divines at West- minster " " I hope you 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 shall endeavour to show its real Christian tendency, by emulating 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 freedom 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 amongst you ; I will not say our power was always moderately used, and revenge is sweet to the race of fallen Adam." " Come, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, gaily, " these evil omenings do but point out conclusions, which, unless they were so PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 47 anticipated, are most unlikely to come to pass. You know what Shakspeare says : — ■ ' To fly the boar before trie boar pursues, Were to incense the boar to follow us, And make pursuit 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 playbooks." " With reverence to your ladyship," said Bridgenorth, " I were much to blame did I need the idle 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." " Since you allow me such influence, then," replied the Lady Peveril, " 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, neighbour, I am going, at my lord and husband's command, to issue out my warrants to invite the whole neighbourhood to a solemn feast at the Castle, on Thursday next ; and 1 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 neighbourhood, 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 embarrassed by this proposal. He looked upwards and downwards and around, cast his eye first to the oak-carved ceiling, and anon fixed it upon the floor ; then threw 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 supply. " Madam," he said, " 1 have long been a stranger to festivity, perhaps from constitutional melancholy, perhaps from the depression which is natural to a desolate and deprived man, in whose car mirth is marred, like a pleasant air when performed on a mistimed 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 removed — 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 ac- ceptance ; and such of my friends with whom I may possess influ- ence, and whose presence 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 belonged more to a martyr than to a guest bidden to a festival, and having kissed, and solemnly Messed his little girl, Major Bridgenorth took his de- parture for Moultrassie Hall. 43 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. CHAPTER III. Here's neither want of appetite nor mouths ; Pray Heaven we be not scant of meat or mirth ! Old Play. Even upon ordinary occasions, and where means were ample, a great entertainment in those days was not such a sinecure as in modern times, when the lady who presides 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 private 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 stewpans — the creaking of spits— the clattering of marrow-bones and cleavers — the scolding of cooks — and all the other various kinds of din which form an accompaniment to dressing a large dinner. But all this toil and anxiety was more than doubled in the case of the approaching feast at Martindale Castle, where the presiding Genius of the festivity was scarce provided with adequate means to carry her hospitable purpose into effect. The tyrannical conduct of husbands, in such cases, is universal ; and I scarce know one house- holder of my acquaintance who has not, on some ill-omened and most inconvenient season, announced suddenly to his innocent helpmate, 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 Martindale 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 dovecot could do little to furnish forth such an entertainment ; the fish-ponds, it is true, were well provided, (which the neighbouring Presbyterians noted as a suspicious circumstance,) and game was to be had for the shooting, upon the extensive heaths and hills of Derbyshire. But these were only the secondary parts of a banquet ; and the house-steward and bailiff, Lady Peveril'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 enter- tainment — was to be supplied. The house-steward threatened the sacrifice of a fine yoke of young bullocks, which the bailiff, who pleaded the necessity of their agricultural services, tenaciously re- sisted ; and Lady Peveril's good and dutiful nature did not prevent PEVERIL OE THE PEAK. 49 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, all 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 exceeded, occasioned for some time a kind of intoxication of loyal rapture which seemed to pervade the whole kingdom. Sir Geoffrey had seen Charles and his brothers, and had been received by the merry monarch with that graceful, and at the same time frank urbanity, by which he conciliated all who approached him ; the Knight's services and merits had been fully acknowledged, and recompense had been hinted at, if not ex- pressly 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 hast his neighbours ? Luckily, however, for the embarrassed lady, there 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 husband's com- mands 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 consistent with the dignity of my lady's large parlour. " What means this, Whitaker ?" said the lady, somewhat peevishly ; for she was interrupted in the commencement of a letter to her neigh- bour on the unpleasant 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 triumph- ant flourish of the hand ; " far better than Pharaoh's, though, like his, it be of fat kine." "I prithee be plain, man," said the lady, "or fetch some one who can speak to purpose." " Why, odds-my-life, madam," said the steward, " mine errand can speak for itself. Do you not hear them low ? Do you not hear 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 d d Mains ploughed to the boot." The lady, without farther questioning her elated domestic, rose and went to the window, where she certainly beheld the oxen and sheep which had given rise to Whitaker's exultation. " Whence come they?" said she, in some surprise, "Let them coi thai who can," answ< red Whitaker; "the fel- low who dro n v.. a west-countryman, and only said t h» v Came from a friend to help to furnish out your ladyship's entertainmi m ; the So PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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," said the zealous steward ; " for, rather than the Castle should lose credit, I 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, I suppose," said the lady ; " but Whitaker, suppose you should show your joy on such occasions, by drinking and swearing a little less, rather than a little more, would it not be as well, think you ? " " I crave your ladyship's pardon," said Whitaker, with much reve- rence ; " I hope I know my place. I am your ladyship's poor servant ; and I know it does not become me to drink and swear like your lady- ship — that is, like his honour, Sir Geoffrey, I would say. But I pray you, if I am not to drink and swear after my degree, how are men to know Peveril of the Peak's steward, — and I may say butler too, since I have had the keys of the cellar ever since old Spigots was shot dead on the north-west turret, with a black jack in his hand, — I say, how is an old Cavalier like me to be known from those cuckoldy Roundheads 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 intimate 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 banquet. 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 spectacles, began to read it to himself. The first names being those of distinguished Cavalier families in the neighbourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approbation — paused and pshawed at that of Bridgenorth — yet acquiesced, with the obser- vation, " But he is a good neighbour, so it may pass for once." But when he read the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the Presbyterian parson, Whitaker's patience altogether forsook him ; and he declared he would as soon throw himself into Eldon-hole,* as con- sent that the intrusive old puritan howlet, who had usurped the pulpit of a sound orthodox divine, should ever darken the gates of Martin- dale Castle by any message or mediation of his. " 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 off old scores, as sure as my name is Richard Whitaker ! " " 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 attention 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 obstinacy was at once subdued. " A murrain on me," he said, " but I have made my lady angry in PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 51 good earnest ! and that is an unwonted sight for to see. — I crave your pardon, my lady ! It was not poor Dick Whitaker disputed 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 I hate a fanatic as I do the cloven foot of Satan ; but then your honourable 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 shall be done." The invitations were sent round accordingly, in all due form ; and one of the bullocks was sent down to be roasted whole at the market- place of a little village called Martindale-Moultrassie, which stood considerably to the eastward both of the Castle and Hall, from which it took its double name, at about an equal distance from both ; so that, suppose a line drawn from the one manor-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 Peveril's property, belonged to Sir Geoffrey and to Bridgenorth, in nearly equal portions, the lady judged it not proper to dispute the right of the latter, to add some hogheads of beer to the popular festivity. In the meanwhile, she could not but suspect the Major of being the unknown frjend 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 — I will not pledge — I'm one of those 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 on't. Old Play. 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 circumstance, 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 of expression, it would been much contrary to his general character to have made such a disavowal, unless it were founded in truth. "My present visit to you, madam," said he, "had indeed some reference to the festivity of to-morrow." Lady Peveril listened, but as her visitor seemed to find some difficulty in expressing himself, she was compelled to ask an explanation. "Madam," said the Major, 1 2 52 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " you are not perhaps entirely ignorant that the more tender-cori- scienced among us have scruples at certain practices, so general amongst 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 omission." " I trust, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, not fully com- prehending the drift of his discourse, " that Ave shall, as your enter- tainers, carefully avoid all allusions or reproaches founded on past misunderstanding." " We would expect no less, madam, from your candour and cour- tesy," said Bridgenorth ; "but I perceive you do not fully understand me. To be plain, then, I 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 convivial occasions, had entirely escaped her. She endeavoured to soothe the objecting party, whose brows were knit like one who had fixed an opinion by which he was determined to abide. "I grant," she said, "my good neighbour, that this custom is at least idle, and may be prejudicial if it leads to excess in the use of liquor, which is apt enough to take place without such conversation. But I think, when it hath not this consequence, it is a thing indifferent, affords a unanimous mode of expressing our good wishes to our friends, and our loyal duty to our sovereign ; 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 the old English fashion." " My lady," said the Major, " if the age of fashion were to command it, Popery is one of the oldest English fashions that I have heard of ; but it is our happiness 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 honour to attend the Lord- Keeper Whitelocke, when, at the table of the Chamberlain of the kingdom of Sweden, he did positively refuse to pledge the health of his Queen, Christina, thereby giving great offence, and putting in peril the whole purpose of that voyage ; which it is not to be thought so wise a man would have done, but that he held such compliance a thing not merely indifferent, but rather sinful and damnable." " With all respect to Whitelocke," said the Lady Peveril, " I continue of my own opinion, though, Heaven knows, I am no friend to riot or wassail. I would fain accommodate myself to your scruples, and will discourage all other pledges ; but surely those of the King and of Peveril of the Peak may be permitted ? " PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 53 " 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 ; " do you bring Satan into comparison with our master King Charles, and with my noble lord and hus- band?" " Pardon me, madam," answered Bridgenorth, " I have no such thoughts — indeed they would ill become me. I do wish the King's health and Sir Geoffrey's devoutly, and I will pray for both. But I see not what good it should do their health if I should prejudice my own by quaffing pledges out of quart flagons." " Since we cannot agree upon this matter," said Lady Peveril, " we must find some resource by which to offend those of neither party. Suppose you winked at our friends drinking these pledges, and we should connive at your sitting still ? " But neither would this composition satisfy Bridgenorth, who was of opinion, as he expressed himself, that it would be holding a candle to Beelzebub. In fact, his temper, naturally stubborn, was at present rendered much more so by a previous conference with his preacher, who, though a very good man in the main, was particularly and illi- berally tenacious of the petty distinctions 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 extremely 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 Canaanitish 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, Bridgenorth 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 depend upon the condition, that no healths or pledges should be given in their presence. Bridgenorth, therefore, 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 been given, for she foresaw that its rejection was to awaken all former subjects of quarrel, and per- haps to lead to new violences amongst people who had not many years since been engaged in civil war. To yield up the disputed point to the byterians, would have been to offend the Cavalier party, and Sir ( ieoffrey in particular, in the most mortal degree ; for they made it as firm a point of honoui to give healths, and compel others to pledge tli' mi, as the Puritan, made it a deep artii le "i religion to refuse both. At length the lady changed the discourse, introduced that of Major Uridgenorth's child, caused it to be bent for, and put into his arms. The 54 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. mother's stratagem took effect ; for, though the parliamentary 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 compromise. 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 Parlour, while the Hall 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 im- portant matter had been settled. He had held it matter of conscience to be stubborn in maintaining 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 custom. His first care on his return, 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 !" 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, 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 reconcilia- tion between them, incurred in reward for her good intentions the cen- sure of both factions, 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 par- ties, it became not only a subject of dispute betwixt themselves, which should be first admitted within the Castle of Martindale, but matter of serious apprehension to Lady Peveril and Major Bridgenorth, lest, if they were to approach by the same avenue and entrance, a quarrel might take place betwixt them, and proceed to extremities, even before they reached the place of entertainment. The lady believed she had discovered an admirable expedient for preventing the possibility of such interference, by directing that the Cavaliers should be admitted by the principal entrance, while the Roundheads should enter the Castle through a great breach which had been made in the course of the siege, and across which there had been since made a sort of bypath, 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 parties encountering each other, and disputing for precedence. Several other circumstances of less im- portance 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 outward apparel was not alone meant by that scriptural expression, but also a suitable frame of mind for enjoyment of peaceful PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 55 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 they should therein become troublers of the peace of 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 m high favour with Sir Geoffrey, not merely on account of his sound orthodoxy and deep learning, but his exquisite skill in playing at bowls, and his facetious conversation over a pipe and tankard of October. For these latter accomplishments, the Doctor had the honour to be recorded by old Century White amongst the roll of 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 occasionally joining in the social meetings of their parishioners. When the King's party began to lose ground, Doctor Dummerar left his vicarage, and, betaking himself to the camp, showed upon several occasions, when acting as chaplain to Sir Geoffrey 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 University, 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 character and sufferings. When the Restoration took place, Doctor Dummerar emerged from some one of his hiding-places, and hied him to Martin- dale 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 extravagant views of elevation or pre- ferment ; but the probability of his being replaced in the living, from which he had been expelled under very flimscy 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 flocks, were at direct variance : and here was another fatal objection in the way of Lady Peveril's scheme of a general and comprehensive healing 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 circumstance of a parson in a cassock and surplice, he went at great length into the foulness of the various crimes committed by the rebellious party during the Lite evil times, and greatly m d the merciful and peaceful nature of the honour. ib or, who condescended to look upon, or receive into her house in the way of friendship and 5<5 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. hospitality, men holding the principles which had led to the murder of the King — the slaying and despoiling his loyal subjects — and the plun- dering and -breaking down of the Church of God. But then he wiped all this handsomely 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 pjoper that all the loyal liegemen should, for the present, eschew subjects of dissension or quarrel with these sons 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 and man, in extirpating them from the face of the earth. The close observers of the remarkable passages of the times from which we draw the events of our history, have left it upon record, that these two several sermons, much contrary, doubtless, to the intention of the worthy divines by whom they were delivered, had 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 procession, as if the adherents of each party were desirous of exhibiting its strength and numbers, the two several factions approached Martindale Castle ; and so distinct did they appear 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 towards the same point from different quarters. The puritanical party was by far the fewer in numbers, for which two excellent reasons might be given. In the first place, they had en- joyed power for several years, and, of course, became unpopular among the common people, never at anytime attached to those, who, being in the immediate possession of authority, are often obliged to employ it in controlling their humours. Besides, the country people of England had, and still have, an animated attachment to field sports, and a natural unrestrained jovialty of disposition, which rendered them im- patient under the severe discipline of the fanatical preachers ; while they were not less naturally discontented with the military despotism of Cromwell's Major-Generals. 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 forsook them till they became unfortunate. These sagacious 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 own motives, and the manly English pride which inclined them to cling to their former opinions, like the traveller 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 57 from numbers, were still so from their character. They consisted 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 unosten- tatious, or only remarkable by the contradictory affectation of extreme simplicity 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, sus- pended by a simple strap around the loins, without shoulder-belt, sword- knot, plate, buckles, or any of the other decorations 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, resolute and undismayed, had cast down the former fabric of government, and who now regarded with somewhat more than suspicion, that which had been so unexpectedly substituted in its stead. There was gloom in their countenances ; but it was not that of dejection, far less of despair. They looked like veterans after a defeat, which may have checked their career and wounded their pride, but has left their courage undiminished. The melancholy, now become habitual, which overcast Major Bridge- north'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 wood which surrounded the Castle, they felt a momentary impression 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 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 the breach itself, which was made at the angle of a large square flanking-towcr, one-half of which had been battered 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 si^ht 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 shutting 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." The words of the pastor were like a spark to gunpowder. The countenances of the mournful retinue suddenly expanded, and, accept- ing 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 58 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. consent, one of the triumphant songs in which the Israelites celebrated the victories which had been vouchsafed to them over the heathen inhabitants of the Promised Land : " Let God arise, and then his foes Shall turn themselves to flight, His enemies for fear shall run, And scatter out of sight ; " And as wax melts before the fire, And wind blows smoke away, So in the presence of the Lord, The wicked shall decay. " God's army twenty thousand is, Of angels bright and strong, The Lord also in Sinai Is present them among. " Thou didst, O Lord, ascend on high, And captive led'st 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 misfor- tunes 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 com- pletely 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 tawdry finery, and his contempt of hypocrisy into licentious profligacy. Gay gallant fellows, young and old, thronged together towards the ancient Cattle, 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 now 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 one, 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, — halloo'd and whooped, " Down with the Rump," and " Fie upon Oliver \" Musical instruments, of as many different fashions as were then in use, played 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 rout, derived an additional zest from the conscious PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 59 triumph, that their exultation was heard by their neighbours, the crestfallen 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 they 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 psalmodists 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 gaiety, and when they are brought into collision the former seldom fail to triumph. If a funeral-train and wedding-proces- sion were to meet unexpectedly, it will readily be allowed that the mirth of the last would be speedily merged in the gloom of the other. 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 with- out 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 more prudent to conceal. " Adad," said the old Knight, " may I never taste claret 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 ninepins ! Faith, neighbours, to say truth, and shame the devil, 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 cudgel their psalmody out of their peasantly throats with this very truncheon ;" a motion which, being seconded by old Roger Raine, the drunken tapster of the Peveril Arms in the village, might have brought on a general battle, but that Sir Jasper forbade the feud. "Well have no ranting, Dick," said the old Knight to the young Franklin ; " adad, man, we'll have none, for three reasons ; first, be- cause 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-singing knaves, thou mightest come by the worst, my boy, as has chanced to thee before." '•Who, I ! Sir Jasper?" answered Dick " I come by th i ! — 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 her- rings in a barrel." " 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 Lading-staff ; and then, in- stead of charging to the front, you went right-about, and away a as your feet could carry you." 6o PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. This reminiscence produced a laugh at Dick's expense, 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, farther 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 victorious 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 contrasted 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, and how they had bound nobles and princes with fetters 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 had been her sole attire for several years, and was arrayed with a splendour not unbecoming her high 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 healing influence of her presence, thus accompanied, poor Bridgenorth was almost over- whelmed 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 faltering tremor of his voice— and the glistening of his eye, showed a grateful respect for the lady whom he addressed — 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 enquiries, addressed to the principal individuals among her guests, concerning their families and connexions, completed her triumph over angry thoughts and dangerous recollections, and disposed men's bosoms to sympathize with the purposes of the meeting. Even Solsgrace himself, although imagining himself bound by his office and duty to watch over and counteract the wiles of the "Amalq- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 61 kitish 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 repaid, the 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 Popery, 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 intel- ligible 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 apart- ment, 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 Triitmphaus, on one of the great towers which flanked the main entrance 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 Cranbournc, who had sense as well as spirit and courage, and who was aware of his fair cousin's motives, having been indeed con- sulted by her upon all the arrangements which she had adopted, saw matters were in such a state that no time 011:4 In to be lost in conducting the guests to the banqueting apartment, where a fortunate diversion from all these topics of rising discontent might be made, at the ex- pense of the good cheer of all sorts, which the lady's care had so liberally provided. 1 he stratagem of the old soldier succeeded in its utmost extent. He assumed the gn at oaken-chair u :ually occupii d by the steward at his audits ; and Dr. Dummcrar having pronounced a brief J^atin 62 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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 wine-cups and of flagons. 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 out- stretched, which displayed their loyal brimmers. The voice of Sir Jasper, clear, sonorous, and emphatic, as the sound of his \var- trumpet, announced the health of the restored 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 only the rafters of the old hall trembled while they echoed it back, but the garlands of oaken boughs and flowers with which they were decorated, waved wildly, and rustled 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 during the reign of the self-entitled saints of the Commonwealth. The social occupation of good eating and drinking, the exchange of pledges betwixt old neighbours who had been fellow-soldiers in the moment of resistance — fellow-sufferers in the time of depression and subjuga- tion, and were now partners in the same general subject of congratu- lation, soon wiped from their memory 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, accompanied as before with the children and her female attendants, 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 success. Her address to them was brief and matronly, yet spoken with so much feeling as found its way to every bosom. She apologized for the lateness of her personal welcome, by reminding them that there were then present in Martindale Castle that day, persons whom recent happy events had converted from enemies into friends, but on whom the latter character was so recently imposed, that she dared not neglect with them any point of ceremonial. But those whom she now addressed, 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 late 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 boldness 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 amongst the old Cavaliers of the period, some glimmering of that spirit which inspired Froissart, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 63 when he declares that a knight hath double courage at need, when ani- mated by the looks and words of a beautiful and virtuous woman. It was not until the reign which was commencing at the moment we are treating of, that the unbounded license of the age, introducing a general course of profligacy, degraded the female sex into mere servants of pleasure, and, in so doing, deprived society of that noble tone of feeling towards the sex, which, considered as a spur to u raise the clear spirit," is superior to every other impulse, save those of reli- gion and of patriotism. The beams of the ancient hall of Martindale 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 character. They neither sung, jested, heard music, nor drank 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 nearly as much sack and claret as his own more jovial associates. But those who considered the steward's pre judices, were inclined to think, that, in order to produce such a result, he must have thrown in his own by-drinkings— no inconsiderable item — to the sum total of the Presbyterian potations. Without adopting such a partial and scandalous report, we shall only say, that on this occasion as on most others, the rareness of in- dulgence 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 opportunities rarely presented themselves. If they did not actually drink each other's healths, they at least showed, by looking and nodding to each other as they raised their glasses, that they all were sharing the same festive gratification 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 sat together in small separate knots, they dis- cussed doctrinal and metaphysical points of belief, balanced the merits of various preachers, compared the creeds of contending sects, and forti- 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 Bridge- north. He suppressed also, in the very bud. a dispute betwixt Gaffer geson 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 of some of the warmer enthusiasts of the party, who felt disposed to make the rest 64 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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 hypocrisy 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 j an arrangement which afforded the greatest satisfaction to the lady, who dreaded the consequences which might not improbably have taken place, had both parties met at the same period and point of retreat. It was near midnight ere the greater part of the Cavaliers, meaning such as were able to effect their departure 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 burden of their roaring chorus of — " The King shall enjoy his own again ! " were heard with no small pleasure by the lady, heartily glad that the riot of the day was over without the occurrence of any unpleasing accident. The rejoicing was not, however, entirely ended ; for the elevated Cavaliers, finding some of the villagers still on foot around a bonfire on 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 at the dusting it off to the health of the King and the loyal General Monk. Their shouts for a long time dis- turbed, and even alarmed, the little village ; but no enthusiasm is able to withstand for ever the natural consequences of late hours, and pota- tions pottle-deep. The tumult of the exulting royalists at last sunk into silence, and the moon and the owl were left in undisturbed sove- reignty 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 womankind ! Lent mettle to the meanest hind That mann'd her castle wall. William S. Rose. On the morning succeeding the feast, the Lady Peveril, fatigued with the exertions and the apprehensions of the former day, kept her apartment for two or three hours later than her own active habits, and PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 65 the matutinal custom of the time, rendered usual. Meanwhile, Mis- tress Ellesmere, a person of great trust in the family, and who assumed much authority in her mistress's absence, laid her orders upon Deborah, the gouvernante, 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 some- times successfully, against the deputed authority of Ellesmere, privately 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 as- sembly ; and presently after she had voted the morning was like to lie rainy, and that the gilded chamber was the fittest play-room for the children, Mistress Deborah came to the somewhat inconsistent resolu- tion, that the park was the fittest place for her own morning walk. It is certain, that during the unrestrained jovialty of the preceding even- ing, she had danced till midnight with Lance Outram. the park-keeper ; but how far the seeing him just pass the window in his woodland trim, with a feather in his hat, and a crossbow under his arm, in- fluenced the discrepancy of the opinions Mrs. Deborah formed con- cerning the weather, we are far from presuming to guess. It is enough for us, that so soon as Mistress Ellesmere's back was turned, Mistre is Deborah carried 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 satisfactory 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 arrange- ment, left to amuse themselves, without better guardianship than what Julian's manhood afforded, was a large apartment, hung with stamped Spanish leather, curiously gilded, representing, in a manner now ob 1 lete, but far from unpleasing, a series of tilts and combats betwixt the Saracens of Grenada, and the Spaniards under the command of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, during that memorable siege, whii h was terminated by the overthrow of the last fragments of the Moorish empire in Spain. The little Julian was careering about the room for the amusement of his infant friend, as well as his own, mimicking with a reed the mena- cing attitude of the Abencen nd Zegris engaged in the Eastern sport of hurling the JERID, or javelin ; and at times sitting down de her, and caressing her into silence and good-humour, whi n 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 the panelled compartments of the leather hanging slide apart, so as to show a fair hand, with ils fingers resting upon a i edge, prepared, it would seem, to push it still farther ba< k. Julian much surprised, and somewhat frightened, at what he witnessed, for the tales of the nursery had ;ti mgly impressed on Ins mind the terrors of the invisible world. Yet, naturally bald and high-spirited, 66 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. the little champion placed himself beside his defenceless sister, con- tinuing to brandish his weapon in her defence, as boldly as he had himself been an Abencerrage of Grenada. The panel, on which his eye was fixed, gradually continued to slide back, and display more and more the form to which the hand apper- tained, 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 ob- served while engaged with the management of the panel, the stranger stepped into the apartment, and the panel, upon a touch of a spring, closed behind her so suddenly, that Julian almost doubted it had ever been open, and began to apprehend that the whole apparition had been a delusion.* The stately lady, however, advanced to him, and said, "Are not you the little Peveril ?'" "Yes," said the boy, reddening, not altogether without a juvenile feeling of that rule of chivalry which forbade any one to disown his name, whatever danger might be annexed to the avowal of it. " Then," said the stately stranger, " go to your mother'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 disobedient ? — but you do but follow the fashion of the time. Why will you not go, my pretty boy, when I ask it of you as a favour? " " 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 remained 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 without protection." The boy understood her not, and still gazed with anxious apprehen- . first on her who addressed him, and then upon his little com- panion, whose eyes, with the vacant glance of infancy, wandered from the figure of the lady to that of her companion and protector, and at length, infected by a portion of the fear which the latter's magnanimous efforts could not entirely conceal, she flew into Julian's arms, and, i linging to him, greatly augmented his alarm, and, by screaming aloud, rendered 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 might justify awe at least, if not fear, when joined to the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 6 7 singular and mysterious 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 hair was very long, and, several locks having escaped from under her hood, hung down dishevelled on her neck and shoulders. eyes were deep black, keen, and piercing, and her features had something of a foreign expression. When she spoke, her language was marked 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 ■sted to Julian the apology he afterwards made for being fright- !. that he took the stranger for an " enchanted queen." While the stranger lady and the children thus confronted each other, two persons entered almost at the same instant, but from different doors, whose haste showed that they had been alarmed by the screams 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 to remain in the more public apartment, until the Lady Peveril should make her appearance, with the goodnatured purpose of assuring her that the preceding day of tumult had passed in every respect agreeably to his friends, and without any of those alarming consequences which might have been apprehended from a collision betwixt the parties. But when it is considered how severely he had been agitated by ap] hensions for his child's safety and health, too well justified by the of those who had preceded her, it will not be thought surprising that the infantine screams of .Mice induced him to break through the barriers of form, and intrude farther into the interior of the house than a sense of strict propriety might have warranted. He burst into, the gilded re, by a side-door and narrow passage, which communicated betwixt that apartment and the hall, and, snatching the child up in his arms, endeavoured by a thou- I caresses, to stifle the screams which burst I intly 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 seconded by those of Julian Peveril, who, on the appearance of this second intruder, was frightened it tion of every more manly idea of i than that which < d in invoking assistance at the very top ol his lungs. Alarmed by this no- . eh in half a minute became ' orous, Lady Peveril, with whose apartment the gilded chamber was connected by a private door ol communication opening into her wardrobe, entered on \ . 'Hie' instant she ap, little Alice, extricating herself from the grasp -i hi I father, ran towards her protectress, and when she had Ot hold of her skirts, hi which the ■ were still glistening, with a I It rather than alarm, : ids the e lady. Julian manfully brandished his reed, a pon which he had never parted with du te whole alarm, and V 2 63 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. stood prepared to assist his mother if there should be danger in the encounter betwixt her and the stranger. In fact, it might have puzzled an older person to account for the sudden and confused pause which the Lady Peveril made, as she gazed on her unexpected guest, as if dubious whether she did or did not recognise, in her still beautiful though wasted and emaciated features, a countenance which she had known well under far different circumstances. The stranger seemed to understand her cause of hesitation, for she said in that heart-thrilling voice which was peculiarly her own — " Time and misfortune have changed me much, Margaret — that every mirror tells me — yet methinks, Margaret Stanley might still have known Charlotte de la Tremouille." 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 I doubt your voice, your features, for a moment — O, forgive, 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 protection. She kissed the Lady Peveril's forehead, and passed her hand in a caressing manner over her face, as she said — " 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 I once held a good one, has failed me strangely, if this gentleman be Sir Geoffrey Peveril." " A kind and good neighbour only, madam," said Lady Peveril ; " Sir Geoffrey is at Court." " I understood so much," said the Countess of Derby, " when I arrived here last night." " How, madam ! " said Lady Peveril — "Did you arrive at Martin- dale 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 disturb you with our royal presence." " But how and where were you lodged, madam? " said Lady Peveril ; " or why should you have kept secret a visit which would, if made, have augmented tenfold the happiness of every true heart that rejoiced here yesterday ?" " My lodging was well cared for by F.llesmere — your Ellesmere now, as she was formerly mine — she has acted as quartermaster ere now, you know, and on a broader scale ; you must excuse her — she had my I nive order to lodge me in the most secret part of your Castle"— (here she pointed to the sliding panel) — she obeyed orders in that, and ] suppose also in sending you now hither." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Cg " Indeed I have not yet seen her," said the lady, " and therefore was totally ignorant of a visit so joyful, so surprising." "And I," said the Countess, " was equally surprised to find none but these beautiful children in the apartment where I thought I heard you moving. Our Ellesmere has become silly — your good nature has spoiled her— she has forgotten the discipline she 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 has charge of the children, in order to remove them." "Your own darlings, I doubt not," said the Countess, looking at the children. " 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 girl — I may call mine too." Major Bridgenorth, who had in the meantime 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 rules of courtesy would have rendered it proper that he should withdraw entirely, or at least offer to do so ; but he was not a man of ceremonious politeness, and he had a particular interest in the subjects on which the Coun- tess's discourse was likely to turn, which induced him to dispense with ceremony. The ladies seemed indeed scarce to notice his presence. The Countess had now assumed a chair, and motioned to the Lady Peveril to sit upon a stool which wis placed by her side. " We will have old times once more, though there are here no roaring of rebel guns to drive you to take refuge at my side, and almost in my pocket." " 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 Countess. " Ladies have no soldiers," said the boy, looking wistfully at her. " He has the true masculine contempt of our frail sex, I sec," said the Countess ; " it is born with the insolent varlcts of mankind, and shows itself as soon as they are out of their long-clothes.— Did Elles- mere never tell you of Latham-House and Charlotte of Derby, my little master?" "A thousand thousand times," said the boy colouring ; "and how the Queen of Man defended it six weeks against three thousand Roundheads, under Rogue Harrison, the butcher." "It was your mother defended Latham- House," said the Counti " not I, my little soldier Iladst thou been there, thou hadst been the ; .tain of the three.'' " Do not say so, madam," said the boy, "for mamma would not 1: a gun for all the universe." lot 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 yo PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. — but not, I think, till they were both heartily wished for. — Do you remember that morning, Margaret, when the roundheaded knaves, that kept us pent up so long, retreated without bag or baggage, at the hist 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 affection — 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 buff and bandalier, with pistols in his belt, yet I trust these warlike signs were no type of future discord?" " Heaven has been kind to me," said Lady Peveril, " 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 see 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 captivity ! " 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 wondered, had he been told that the very monarch for whom he had 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 wellnigh ruined in the royal cause, and to persecute me his widow ! " "You astonish me, madam !" said the Lady Peveril. "It cannot be, that you — that you, the wife of the gallant, the faithful, the mur- dered 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 sub- ject — it cannot be ! " "Thou art as simple, I see, in this world's knowledge 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 concealment, to beg shelter and assistance from you, fair cousin." " From me," answered the Lady Peveril — " from me, whose youth your kindness sheltered — from the wife of Peveril, your gallant Lord's companion in arms — you have a right to command every thing ; but, alas ! that you should need such assistance as I can render — forgive me, but it seems like some ill-omened vision of the night — I listen to your words as if I hoped to be relieved from their painful import by awaking." " It is indeed a dream — a vision," said the Countess of Derby; "but it needs no seer to read it — the explanation hath been long since given — Put not your faith in princes. I can soon remove your surprise. — This gentleman, your friend, is doubtless honest?" PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 71 The Lad\- Peveril well knew that the Cavaliers, like other factions, usurped to themselves the exclusive denomination of the honest party, and she felt some difficulty in explaining that her visitor 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 scat. '• It was but a question of habit," she said ; "the gentleman's prin- ciples arc nothing to me, for what I 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 indifferent to my fate— that after my husband's murder 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 Peveril ; " and that you had bidden a bold defiance to the rebel government, even after all other parts of Britain had submited to them. My husband, Sir Geoffrey, designed at one time to have gone to your assistance 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." " Hut you heard not," said the Countess, "how that disaster befell me. — Margaret, I would have held out that island against the knaves as long as the sea continued to ilow around it. Till the shoals which surround it had become safe anchorage — till its precipices had melted beneath the sunshine — till of all its strong abodes and castles, not one stone remained upon another, would 1 have defended against these villainous hypocritical" rebels my dear husband's hereditary dominion. 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. Put treachery did what force could never have done. When wc had foiled various attempts upon the island by open force— tie accomplished what Blake and Lawson, with their floati found too hazardous an enterprise— a base rebel, whom we had nui '1 in our own bosoms, betrayed us to the enemy. This wretch was named Christian'' Major Bridgenorth started and turned towards the speaker, but instantly seem< d to recollect himself, and again averted his face. The Countess proceeded, without noticing the interruption, which, however, rather surprised Lady Peveril, who was acquainted with her neighbour's general habits of indifference and apathy, and therefore the more surprised at his testifying such sudden symptoms of in- terest. She would once again have moved the Countess to retire to another apartment, but Lady Derby proceeded with too much vehemence to endure interruption. "This Christian," she said, "had cat of my lord his sovereign's bread, and drunk of his cup, even from childhood lor hi, fatheij had 1. en faithful servants to the House of Man and Derby. 1} himself had fought bravely by my husband's side, and enjoyed all hii confidence ; and when my princely Earl was martyred by the rebels, he recommended to mc, amongst other instructions communicated in 72 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. the last message I received from him, to continue my confidence in Christian's fidelity. I obeyed, although I never loved the man. He was cold and phlegmatic, and utterly devoid of that sacred fire which is the incentive to noble deeds, suspected too of leaning to the cold metaphysics of Calvinistic subtilty. 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 themselves without hope of relief, and pressed by a blockade, which brought want and disease into their island, they began to fall off from the faith which they had hitherto shown." " 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 task of bettering their condition ?" " Do not blame them," 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 attached to constancy in suffering. But that Christian should have headed their revolt — that he, born a gentleman, 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 ungrateful treachery, which even this age of treason will scarcely parallel ! " " And yon 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 princely house from which I spring, and as little the royal house of Stanley which I uphold, who hoped to humble Charlotte of Tremouille into so base a composition. I would rather have starved in the darkest and lowest vault of Rushin Castle, than have consented to aught which might diminish in one hair's breadth the right of my son over his father's sovereignty." " And could not your firmness, in a case where hope seemed lost, induce them to be generous, and dismiss you without conditions ?" " They knew me better than thou dost, wench," answered 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, 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 partisans 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 73 they expected from the change of power. They were loaded with exactions by their new masters, their privileges were abridged, and their immunities abolished, under the pretext of reducing them to the same condition with the other subjects of the pretended republic. When the news arrived of the changes which were current in Britain, these sentiments were privately communicated to me. Calcott and others acted with great zeal and fidelity ; 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 I enjoyed that sovereignty long without doing justice on that traitor Christian ? " " 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 Christian ? " " 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 — " Lady, I trust you have not dared " The Countess interrupted him in her turn. " I know not who you are who question — and you know not me when you speak to me of that which I dare, or dare not, do. But you seem interested in the fate of this Christian, and you shall hear it. — 1 was no sooner placed in possession of my rightful power, than I ordered the Dempster of the island to 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 Dempster and the Keys of the island, assembled under the vaulted cope of heaven, and seated on the terrace of the Zonwald Hill, where of old Druid and Scald held their courts of judgment. The criminal was heard at length in his own defence, which amounted to little more than those specious allegations 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, not without an involuntary shudder. "You are a fool, Margaret," said the Countess, sharply ; " 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 necessary for his soul's sake. He was shot to death by a file of musketeers in the common place of ution, called 1 langO-hill." * 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 74 PEVRRIL OF THE PEAK. and honourable. But what of that ? The hypocrite is a saint, and the false traitor a man of honour, till opportunity, that faithful touch- stone, proves their metal to be base." "It is false, woman— it is false ! " said Bridgenorth, no longer sup- pressing 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 of Derby under my roof?" " Speak not to me of Countesses and of ceremonies," said Bridge- north ; " grief and anger leave me no leisure for idle observances, to humour the vanity of overgrown children.— Oh 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 fury, who, but for thee, had deservedly paid with her own blood that of God's saints, which she, as well as her tyrant husband, had spilled like water !— Yes, cruel murderess ! " he continued, addressing the Countess, " he whom thou hast butchered in thy insane vengeance, sacrificed for many 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 wellnigh brought to utter perdition the little community in which he was born. 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 of 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 farther urging this cruestion. If in your grief you forget other restraints, I pray you to remember that the Countess is my guest and kinswoman, and is under such pro- tection as I can afford her. I beseech you, in simple courtesy, to withdraw, as what must needs be the best and most becoming course in these trying circumstances." " Nay, let him remain," said the Countess, regarding him with com- posure, not unmingled with triumph ; " I would not have it otherwise ; I would not that my revenge 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 retribution 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 Master Bridge- north 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 Major, 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 respectful ; but to this woman 1 must speak as a magis- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 75 trate. She has confessed a murder in my presence — the murder too of ray 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 farther flight. She has already confessed that she is a fugitive, 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. \\ hat have your English laws to do with my acts of justice and of government, within my son's hereditary kingdom? Am 1 not Queen in Man, as well as Countess of Derby ? A feudatory Sovereign indeed ; but yet indepen- dent 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 — '• • Whoso spillcth man's blood, by man shall his blood be spilled.' Think not that the barbarous privileges of ancient feudal customs will avail to screen you from the punishment due for an Englishman mur- dered upon pretexts inconsistent with the act of indemnity." ".Master 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 violence against this honourable lady, within the walls of my husband's castle." " You will find yourself unable to prevent me from executing my duty, madam," said Bridgenorth, whose 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 magis- trate, Master Bridgenorth, 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 hesitate to obey you as such." '• 1 shall stand on small ceremony," said Bridgenorth. " Were I no magistrate, every man has title to arrest for murder against the term-, of the indemnities held out by the King's proclamations, and I will make my point good." " What indemnities ? What proclamations?" said the Countess of Derby, indignantly. " Charles Stuart may, if he pleases, (and it doth lie him,) consort with those whose hands have been 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 lias 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. — Methinks, Margaret, we have enough of this peevish and foolish magistrate — 1 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 shown more deference to him in this matter than her husband was likely to approve of, raised her voice, and called loudly on her steward, Whitaker 7 6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. That alert person, who had heard high talking, and a female voice, with which he was unacquainted, had remained for several minutes stationed in the anteroom, 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 anteroom, and wait my farther orders." CHAPTER VI. You shall have no worse prison than my chamber, Nor iailor than myself. The Captain. The command which Lady Peveril laid on her domestics to arm themselves, was so unlike the usual gentle acquiescence of her manners, that Major Bridgenorth was astonished. " How mean you, madam ? " said he ; " I thought myself under a friendly roof." "And you are so, Master Bridgenorth," said the Lady Peveril, without departing from the natural calmness of her voice and manner; " but it is a roof which must not be violated by the outrage of one friend against another." "It is well, madam," said Bridgenorth, turning to the door of the apartment. "The worthy Master Solsgrace has already foretold, that the time was returned 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 justice left in this unhappy England, that proud woman and 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," he answered, " subscribe to my own dishonour, madam, written down in express words, than to any such composition. If any man offers to interrupt me, his blood be on his head !" As Major Bridgenorth spoke, Whitaker threw open the door, and showed that, with the alertness of an old soldier, who was not displeased at seeing things tend once more towards a state of warfare, he had got with him four stout fellows in the Knight of the Peak's livery, well armed with swords and carabines, buff-coats, and pistols at their girdles. '•' I will see," said Major Bridgenorth, "if any of these men be so desperate as to stop me, a freeborn Englishman, and a magistrate, in the discharge of my duty." So saying, he advanced upon Whitaker and his armed assistants, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 77 " Do not be so desperate, Master Bridgenorth," exclaimed Lady Peveril ; and added, in the same moment, " Lay hold upon, and disarm him, Whitaker ; but do him no injury." Her commands were obeyed. Bridgenorth, though a man of moral resolution, was not one of those who undertake to 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, sub- mitting to force which one man was unable to resist, he made those who commanded, and who employed it, responsible for assailing his liberty without a legal warrant. " Never mind a warrant on a pinch, Master Bridgenorth," 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, moreover, you laid me in the stocks for drinking the King's health, Master Bridgenorth, 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 Countess of Derby can have nothing to fear from your pursuit. I could easily send an escort with her that might bid defiance to any force you could muster; but I wish, Heaven knows, to bury the runembrance of old civil dissensions, not to awaken new. Once more, will you think better on it— as- sume your sword again, and forget whom you have now seen at Martindale Castle?" '• Never," said Bridgenorth. "The crime of this cruel woman will be the last of human injuries which I can forget. The la-t 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 I'everil, " though they arc more allied to revenge than to justice, I must provide for my fri< i safety, by putting restraint upon your person. In this room you will be supplied with every necessary of life, and every convenience ; and a message shall relieve your domestics of the anxiety which your absence from the Hall is not unlikely to occasion. When a few houi , at most two days, are over, I will myself relieve yon from confim n and demand your pardon for now acting a . your obstinacy compels me to do." The Major made no answer, but that he was in her hands, and mu I 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 I'everil left the apartment arm in arm ; and the lady issued forth her directions to Whitaker concerning the mode in which she was desirous that Brid i should be guarded and treated during his temporary confin j at the same time 1 lining to him, that the safety of the Countess of Derby required that he should be closely watched. In all proposals for the prisoner's security, such as the regular relii f of guards, and the like, Whitaker joyfully acquiesced, and underti 7 3 PEVER1L OF THE TEAK. body for body, that he should be detained in captivity for the necessary period. 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 Peveril displayed a very undue degree of atten- tion to her prisoner's comforts. " I warrant," he said, " that the cuckoldy Roundhead ate enough of our fat beef yesterday to serve him for a month ; and a little fasting will do his health good. Marry, for drink, he shall have plenty of cold water to cool his hot liver, which I will be bound is still hissing witli the strong liquors of yester- day- And as for bedding, there are the fine dry boards— more wholesome than the wet straw I lay upon when 1 was in the stocks, I trow." " Whitaker," said the lady, peremptorily, " I desire you to provide Master Bridgenorth's bedding and food in the way 1 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 ante- chamber, and were soon seated in another apartment, which was pecu- liarly dedicated to the use of the mistress of the mansion — having, on the one side, access to the family bedroom ; and, on the other, to the still-room which communicated with the garden. There was also a small door which, ascending a few steps, led to that balcony, already mentioned, that overhung the kitchen ; and the same passage, by a separate door, admitted to the principal gallery in the chapel ; so that the spiritual and temporal affairs 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 various sallyports, the Countess and Lady Peveril were speedily seated ; and the former, smiling upon the latter, said, as she took her hand, " Two things have happened to-day which might have surprised me, if any thing ought to surprise me in such times ; — the first is, that yonder roundheaded fellow should have dared to use such insolence in the house of Peveril of the Peak. If your husband is yet the same honest and downright Cavalier whom I once knew, and had chanced to be at home, he would have thrown the knave out of window. But what I wonder at still more, Margaret, is your generalship. I hardly thought you had courage sufficient to have taken such decided measures, after keeping on terms with the man so long. When he spoke of justices and war- rants, you looked so overawed that I thought I felt the clutch of the parish-beadles on my shoulder, to drag me to prison as a vagrant." " We owe Master Bridgenorth some deference, my dearest lady," answered the Lady Peveril ; " he has served us often, and kindly, in these late times ; but neither die, nor any one else, shall insult the Countess of Derby in the house of Margaret Stanley." " Thou art become a perfect heroine, Margaret," replied the Coun- tess. " Two sieges, and alarms innumerable," said Lady Peveril, "may have taught me presence of mind. My courage is, I believe, as slender as ever." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 79 " Presence of mind is courage " answered the Countess. ' : Real valour consists not in being insensible to danger, but in being prompt to confront and disarm 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. 1 ' In one moment, the boy Julian, breathless with joy, came flying into the room, to say that papa was returned, with Lamington and Sam Brewer : and that be was himself to ride Black Hastings to the stable. In the second, the tramp of the honest Knight's heavy jack-boots was ;, 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 without looking to any one else, caught his good lady in his arms, and kissed her a dozen of times. — Blushing, and with sbme 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. You 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 winch she held out to him ; " I am as glad to your ladyship in my poor house, as I would be to hear that they had found a vein of lead in the Brown Tor. I rode hard, in the hope of being your escort through the country. I feared you might have fallen into bad ng there was a knave sent out with a warrant from the Council." " \\ id you so ? and from whom ?" " It was from Cholmondley of Vale-Royal," said Sir Geoffrey ; " he is come down to make provision for youi hire; and I promised to bring you there in safety. Prince Rupert, Ormond, and other friends, do not doubt the matter will be driven to a fine : but they say the Chancellor, and Harry Bennet, and som i of the over-sea counsellors, are furious at what they call a breach of the g's proclamation. Hang them, say I ! — They left us to bear all the beating ; and now they arc incensed that we should wish to < ise who rodo us like nig] ! " •• What did they tail "i foi m ment ?" said the Countess. '• I wot not," said Sir Geoffrey; "some friends, as I said, from our kind Cheshi others, tried to bring it to a fine ; but some, again, of nothing but the Tower, and a long imprisonnv '• I have imprisonment long enough for King Charles's lid the Countess ; "and have no mind to undergo it at his . if I am removed from the personal superintendence of my son's dominions in Man, I know not what new usurpation mpted there. 1 must be obliged to you, cousin, to contrive that I ili Royal, and from thence 1 know I shall be Livei pool." Oo PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " You may rely on my guidance and protection, noble lady," an- swered her host, " though you had come here at midnight, and with the rogue's head in your apron, like Judith in the Holy Apocrypha, which I joy to hear once more read in churches." " Do the gentry resort much to the Court ?" said the lady. "Ay, madam," replied Sir Geoffrey ; " and according to our saying, when miners do begin to bore in these parts, it is for the Grace of God, and what they there may find." "Meet the old Cavaliers with much countenance?" continued the Countess. " Faith, madam, to speak truth," re-plied the Knight, " the King hath so gracious a manner, that it makes every man's hopes blossom, though we have seen but few that have ripened into fruit." " You have not yourself, my cousin," answered the Countess, " had room to complain of ingratitude, I trust ? Few have less deserved it at the King's hand." Sir Geoffrey was unwilling, like most prudent persons, to own the existence of expectations which had proved fallacious, yet had too little art in his character to conceal his disappointment entirely. "Who? I, madam?" he said; "Alas ! what should a poor country knight expect from the King, besides the pleasure of seeing him in Whitehall once more, and enjoying his own again? And his Majesty was very gracious when I was presented, and spoke to me of Wor- cester, and of my horse, Black Hastings — he had forgot his name, though — faith, and mine, too, I believe, had not Prince Rupert whis- pered it to him. And I saw some old friends, such as his Grace of Ormond, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, Sir Philip Musgrave, and so forth ; and had a jolly rouse or two, to the tune of old times." " I should have thought so many wounds received — so many dangers risked — such considerable losses— merited something more than a few smooth words," said the Countess. " Nay, my lady, there were other friends of mine who had the same thought," answered Peveril. " Some were of opinion that the loss of so many hundred acres of fair land was worth some reward of honour at least ; and there were, who thought my descent from William the Conqueror — craving your ladyship's pardon for boasting it in your pre- sence — would not have become a higher rank or title worse than the pedigree of some who have been promoted. But what said the witty Duke of Buckingham, forsooth ? (whose grandsire was a Lei'stershire Knight— rather poorer, and scarce so well-born as myself) — Why, he said, that if all of my degree who deserved well of the King in the late times were to be made peers, the House of Lords- must meet upon Salisbury Plain !" " And that bad jest passed for a good argument ! " said the Coun- tess ; " and well it might, where good arguments pass for bad jests. — But here comes one I must be acquainted with." This was little Julian, who now re-entered the hall, leading his little sister, as if he had brought her to bear witness to the boastful tale which he told his father, of his having manfully ridden Black Hastings to the stable-yard, alone in the saddle ; and that Saunders, though he walked by the horse's head, did not once put his hand upon the rein, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. fi and Brewer, though he stood beside him, scarce held him by the knee. The father kissed the boy heartily ; and the Countess, calling him to her so soon as Sir Geoffrey had set him down, kissed his forehead also, and then surveyed all his features with a keen and penetrating eye. " He is a true Peveril," said she, "mixed as he should be with some touch of the Stanley. Cousin, you must grant me my boon, and when I am safely established, and have my present affair arranged, you must let me have this little Julian of yours some time hence, to be nurtured in my house, held as my page, and the playfellow of the little Derby. I trust in Heaven, they will be such friends as their fathers have been, and may God send them more fortunate times ! ;; * •• Marry, and I thank you for the proposal with all my heart, madam," said the Knight. " There arc so many noble houses decayed, and many more in which the exercise and discipline for the trainii noble youths is given up and neglected, that I have often feared I must have kept Gil to be young master at home ; and I have had too little nurture myself to teach lrm much, and so he would have been a mere hunting hawking knight of Derbyshire. But in your ladysh household, and with the noble young Earl, he will have all, and more than all, the education which I could desire." •• There shall be no distinction betwixt them, cousin," said the Coun- tess ; " Margaret Stanley's son shall be as much the object of care to me as my own, since you are kindly disposed to intrust him to my charge. — You look pale, Margaret," she continued, '-and the tear stands in your eye? Do not be so foolish, i -what 1 a better than you can desire for your boy; for the house of my father, the Duke de la Tremouille, was the most famous school of chivalry in France ; nor have I degenerated from him, or suffered any relaxation in that noble discipline which trained young gentlemen to do honour to their race. You can promise your Julian no such advantage , n train him up a mere home-bred youth." " I acknowledge the importance of the favour, madam," said Lady Peveril, "and must acquiesce in what your ladyship honours us by proposing, and Sir Geoffrey approves of /but Julian is an only child, and" "An only son," said the Countess, "but surely not an only child. You pay too high deference to our masters, the male sex, if you allow Julian to engross all your affection, and spare none lor this' beautiful girl." So saying, she sat down Julian, and, taking Alice Bridgenorth on her lap, began to caress her; and there was, notwithstanding her masculine character, something so sweet in the tone o( her voice and in the cast of her features, that the child immediately smiled, and replied to her marks of fondness. This mistake embarrassed Lady Peveril exceedingly. Knowing the blunt impetuo her husband's character, his devotion to th mg >ry of the deceased Earl of Derby, and his corresponding vener ''■;. for his widow, she was alarmed for ' of his heat ondui t of Brid jenorth that mom is partii ulai I i l hal he should nol learn il from | I al preparation. But th Count error led to a moi pn pita disclosure. <* 8a PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " That pretty girl, madam," answered Sir Geoffrey, " is none of ours ■ — I wish she were. She belongs to a neighbour hard by — a good man, and, to say truth, a good neighbour — though he was carried off from his allegiance in the late times by a d— d Presbyterian scoundrel, who calls himself a parson, and whom I hope to fetch down from his perch presently, with a wannion to him ! He has been cock of the roost long enough. There arc rods in pickle to switch the Geneva cloak with, I can tell the sour-faced rogues that much. But this child is the daughter of Bridgenorth — neighbour Bridgenorth, of Moultrassie-Hall." " Bridgenorth ? " said the Countess ; " I thought I had known all the honourable names in Derbyshire— I remember nothing of Bridge- north. — But stay —was there not a sequestrator and committeeman of that name? Sure, it cannot be he." Peveril took some shame to himself as he replied, " It is the very man whom your ladyship means, and you may conceive the reluctance with which I submitted to receive good offices from one of his kidney ; but had 1 not done so, I should have scarce known how to find a roof to cover Dame Margaret's head." The Countess, as he spoke, raised the child gently from her lap, and placed it upon the carpet, though little Alice showed a disinclination to the change of place, which the Lady of Derby and Man would certainly have indulged in a child of patrician descent and loyal parentage. " I blame you not," she said ; " no one knows what temptation will bring us down to. Yet I did think Peveril of the Peak would have re- sided in its deepest cavern, sooner than owed an obligation to a Ojidc." " Nay, madam," answered the Knight, "my neighbour is bad enough, but not so bad as you would make him ; he is but a Presbyterian — that I must confess — but not an Independent." "A variety of the same monster," said the Countess, "who hallooed while the others hunted, and bound the victim whom the Independents massacred. Betwixt such sects I prefer the Independents. They are at least bold, barefaced, merciless villains, have more of the tiger in ill- hi, and less of the crocodile. I have no doubt it was that worthy gentleman who took it upon him this morning" She stopped short, for she saw Lady Peveril was vexed and em- barrassed. " I am," she said, " the most luckless of beings. I have said some- thing, I know not what, to distress you, Margaret — Mystery is a bad thing, and betwixt us there should be none." " There is none, madam," said Lady Peveril, something impatiently; " I waited but an opportunity to tell my husband what had happened — Sir Geoffrey, Master Bridgenorth was unfortunately here when the Lady Derby and I met ; and he thought it part of his duty to speak of" " To speak of what ? " said the Knight, bending his brows. "You were ever something too fond, dame, of giving way to the usurpation of such people." " I only mean," said Lady Peveril, "that as the person—he to whom Lady Derby's story related, — was the brother of his late lad}-, he threatened— but I cannot think that he was serious." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 83 " Threaten ? — threaten the Lady of Derby and Man in my house ! — the widow of my friend — the noble Charlotte of Latham-House !— by Heaven, the prick-eared slave shall answer it ! How comes it that my knaves threw him not out of the window ? " " Alas ! Sir Geoffrey, you forget how much we owe him," said the lady. "Owe him!" said the Knight, still more indignant; for in his singleness of apprehension he conceived that his wife alluded to pe- cuniary obligations, — " if I do owe him some money, hath he not security for it ? and must he have the right, over and above, to do- mineer and play the magistrate in Martindale Castle ?— Where is he? ■ — what have you made of him ? I will — I must speak with him." " Be patient, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess, who now discerned the cause of her kinswoman's apprehension; "and be assured 1 did not need your chivalry to defend me against this discourteous faitour, as Mortc d'Arthur would have called him. I promise you my kins- woman hath fully righted my wrong ; and I am so pleased to owe my deliverance entirely to her gallantry, that I charge and command you, as a true knight, not to mingle in the adventure of another." Lady Pevcril, who knew her husband's blunt and impatient temper, and perceived that he was becoming angry, now took up the story, and plainly and simply pointed out the cause of Master Lridgcnorth's- inter- ference. " I am sorry for it," said the Knight; "I thought he had more sen s< ; and that this happy change might have done some good upon him. But you should have told me this instantly — It consists not with honour that he should be kept prisoner in this house, as if I feared any thing he could do to annoy the noble Countess, while she is under my roof, or within twenty miles of this Castle." So saying, and bowing to the Countess, he went straight to the gilded chamber, leaving Lady Peveril in great anxiety for the event of an angiy meeting b r hasty as that of her husband, and stubborn like that of Bridgenorth. Her apprehensions were, h unnecessary ; for the meeting was not fated to take pi; When Sir Geoffrey Peveril, having di 1 Whitak hi i sentinels, entered the gilded chamber, in which he expected to find captive, the pri ;on< r had escaped, and it was easy to see in what manner. 1 he sliding pan' 1 had, in the hurry of the momi the memory of Lady Peveril, and of Whitaker, the only pi 1 who knew anything of it. It was probable that a chink had remained sufficient to indicate its existence to Bridgenorth; who, withdrawii i. had found his way into the secret apartment with whi communicated, and from thence to the postern of the Castle by another scci' which had been formed in the thickness of the wall, as is not un< ommon in ancient man lions ; the lords of whii h were liable to so many mutations ol fortune, that they usually contrived to secure some lui king-place and secret mode of retreat from theii fortresses. That Bri h had discover d mod' iuse the private doors communicat- ing with the po tern and the sliding panel in the gilded chamber were both Left open. O 2 8 4 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Sir Geoffrey returned to the ladies with looks of perplexity. While Tie deemed Bridgenorth within his reach, he was apprehensive of nothing he could do ; for he felt himself his superior in personal strength, and in that species of courage which induces a man to rush, without hesitation, upon personal danger. But when at a distance, he had been for many years accustomed to consider Bridgenorth's power and influence as something formidable ; and, notwithstanding the late change of affairs, his ideas so naturally reverted to his neighbour as a powerful friend or dangerous enemy, that he felt more apprehension on the Countess's score, than he was willing to acknowledge even to him- self. The Countess observed his downcast and anxious brow, and re- quested to know if her stay there was likely to involve him in any trouble, or in any danger. " The trouble should be welcome," said Sir Geoffrey, "and more welcome the danger, which should come on such an account. My plan was, that your ladyship should have honoured Martindale with a few days' residence, which might have been kept private until the search after you was ended. Had I seen this fellow Bridgenorth, I have no doubt I could have compelled him to act discreetly ; but he is now at liberty, and will keep out of my reach ; and, what is worse, he has the secret of the priest's chamber." Here the Knight paused, and seemed much embarrassed. " You can, then, neither conceal nor protect me ?" said the Countess. " Pardon, my honoured lady," answered the Knight, " and let me say out my say. The plain truth is, that this man hath many friends among the Presbyterians here, who are more numerous than I would wish them ; and if he falls in with the pursuivant fellow who carries the warrant of the Privy Council, it is likely he will back him with force sufficient to try to execute it. And I doubt whether any of our own friends can be summoned together in haste, sufficient to resist such a power as they are like to bring together." " Nor would I wish any friends to take arms, in my name, against the King's warrant, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess. " Nay, for that matter," replied the Knight, " and his Majesty will grant warrants against his best friends, he must look to have them ■resisted. Put the best I can think of in this emergence is — though the proposal be something inhospitable — that your ladyship should take presently to horse, if your fatigue will permit. I will mount also, with some brisk fellows, who will lodge you safe at Vale-Royal, though the Sheriff stopped the way with a whole posse comitatus :" The Countess of Derby willingly acquiesced in this proposal. She had enjoyed a night's sound repose in the private chamber, to which Ellesmere had guided her on the preceding evening, and was quite ready to resume her route, or flight — " she scarce knew," she said, " which of the two she should term it." Lady Peverilwept at the necessity which seemed to hurry her earliest friend and protectress from under her roof, at the instant when the clouds of adversity were gathering around her ; but she saw no alter- native equally safe. Nay, however strong her attachment to I id) Derby, she could not but be more readily reconciled to her hasty departure, when she considered the inconvenience, and even danger, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 3^ in which her presence, at such a time, and in such circumstances, was likely to involve a man so bold and hot-tempered as her husband Sir Geoffrey. While Lady Peveril, therefore, made every arrangement which time permitted and circumstances required, for the Countess prosecuting her journey, her husband, whose spirits always rose with the prospect of action, issued his orders to Whitaker to get together a few stout fellows, with back and breast-pieces, and steel-caps. " There are the two lackeys, and Outram and Saunders, besides the other groom fellow, and Roger Raine, and his son ; but bid Roger not come drunk again ; — thyself, young Dick of the Dale and his servant, and a file or two of the tenants, — we shall be enough for any force they can make. All these are fellows that will strike hard, and ask no question why— their hands are ever readier than their tongues, and their mouths are more made for drinking than speaking." Whitaker, apprized of the necessity of the case, asked if he should not warn Sir Jasper Cranbourne. " Not a word to him, as you live," said the Knight ; ''this may be an outlawry, as they call it, for what I know ; and therefore I will bring no lands or tenements into peril, saving mine own. Sir Jasper hath had a troublesome time of it for many a year. By my wdl, he shall sit quiet for the rest of's days."' CHAPTER VII. Fciii^. A rescue ! a rescue ! Mrs. Quickly. Good people, bring a rescue or two. Henry IV., Part I. THE followers of Peveril were so well accustomed to the sound of " Boot and Saddle, - ' that they were soon mounted and in order ; and in all the form, and with some of the dignity of danger, proceeded to escort the Countess of Derby through the hilly and desert tract of country which connects the frontier of the shire with the neighbouring county of Cheshire. The cavalcade moved with considerable pre- caution, which they had been taught by the discipline of the Civil Wars. One wary and well-mounted trooper rode about two hundred \ards in advance ; followed, at about half that distance, by two more, li their carabine, advanced, as if ready foi action. About one hundred yards behind the advance, came the main body ; where the ( ountess of Derby, mounted on Lady Peverii's ambling palfrey, (for In r own had be n e diausted by the journey from London to Martin- Castle,) p on d by one groom, of approved fidelity, and one waiting-maid, w ded and guarded by the Knight <>i the Peak, and three iii ood and practised horsemen. I i the rear came Whitaker, with Lan e Outram, as men of especial trust, to whom the covering tin- n treat wa • onfi led. Theyrode,as ilie Spanish provi rb expresses it, " with the beard on the shoulder,' I . around, that i ;, 86 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. from time to time, and using every precaution to have the speediest knowledge of any pursuit which might take place. But, however wise in discipline, Perevil and his followers were some- what remiss in civil policy. The Knight had communicated to Whitaker, though without any apparent necessity, the precise nature of their present expedition ; and Whitaker was equally communicative to his comrade Lance, the keeper. "It is strange enough, Master Whitaker," said the latter, when he had heard the case, " and I wish you, being a wise man, would expound it ; — why, when we have been wishing for the King — and praying for the King — and fighting for the King — and dying for the King, for these twenty years, the first thing we find to do on his return, is to get into harness to resist his warrant ! " " Pooh ! you silly fellow," said Whitaker, " that is all you know of the true bottom of our quarrel ! Why, man, we fought for the King's person against his warrant, all along from the very beginning ; for I remember the rogues' proclamations, and so forth, always ran in the name of the King and Parliament." "Ay ! was it even so ? " replied Lance. " Nay, then, if they begin the old game so soon again, and send out warrants in the King's name against his loyal subjects, well fare our stout Knight, say I, who is ready to take them down in their stocking-soles. And if Bridgenorth takes the chase after us, I shall not be sorry to have a knock at him for one." " Why, the man, bating he is a pestilent Roundhead and Puritan," said Whitaker, " is no bad neighbour. What has he done to thee, man ?" " He has poached on the manor," answered the keeper. " The devil he has ! " replied Whitaker. " Thou must be jesting, Lance. Bridgenorth is neither hunter nor hawker ; he hath not so much of honesty in him." " Ay, but he runs after game you little think of, with his sour, melancholy face, that would scare babes and curdle milk," answered Lance. " Thou canst not mean the wenches ? " said Whitaker ; " why, he hath been melancholy mad with moping for the death of his wife. Thou knowest our lady took the child, for fear he should strangle it for putting him in mind of its mother, in some of his tantrums. Under her favour, and among friends, there are many poor Cavaliers' children, that care would be better bestowed upon — But to thy tale." " Why, thus it runs," said Lance. " I think you may have noticed, Master Whitaker, that a certain Mistress Deborah hath manifested a certain favour for a certain person in a certain household." " For thyself, to wit," answered Whitaker ; " Lance Outram, thou art the vainest coxcomb — " " Coxcomb ? " said Lance ; " why, 'twas but last night the whole family saw her, as one would say, fling herself at my head." " I would she had been a brick-bat, then, to have broken it, for thy impertinence and conceit," said the steward. " Well, but do but hearken. The next morning — that is, this very blessed morning — I thought of going to lodge a buck in the park, judging a bit of venison might be wanted in the larder, after yester- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. S 7 day's wassail ; and, as I passed under the nursery-window, I did but just look up to see what madam governante was about ; and so I saw her, through the casement, whip on her hood and scarf as soon as she had a glimpse of me. Immediately after I saw the still-room door open, and made sure she was coming through the garden, and so over the breach and down to the park ; and so, thought I, ' Aha, Mistress Deb, if you are so ready to dance after my pipe and tabor, I will give you a couranto before you shall come up with me.' And so I went down Ivy-tod Dingle, where the copse is tangled, and the ground swampy, and round by Haxley-bottom, thinking all the while she was following, and laughing in my sleeve at the round I was giving her."' '• You deserved to be ducked for it," said Whitaker, "for a weather- headed puppy ; but what is all this Jack-a-lantern story to Bridge- north?" '• Why, it was all along of he, man," continued Lance, " that is, of Bridgenorth, that she did not follow me — Gad, I first walked slow, and then stopped, and then turned back a little, and then began to wonder what she had made of herself, and tQ think I had borne myself some- thing like a jackass in the matter." " That I deny," said Whitaker, '•' never jackass but would have borne him better— but go on." " Why, turning my face towards the Castle, I went back as if I had my nose bleeding, when just by the Copely thorn, which stands, you know, a flight-shot from the postern-gate, I saw Madam Deb in close conference with the enemy." " What enemy?" said the steward. " What enemy ! why, who but Bridgenorth ? They kept out of sight, and among the copse; but, thought I, it is hard it" I cannot stalk you, that have stalked so many bucks. If so, I had better give my shafts to be pudding-pins. So I cast round the thicket, to watch their waters ; and, may I never bend crossbow again, if I did not see him give her gold, and squeeze her by the hand ! " "And was that all you saw pass between them?" said the steward. " Faith, and it was enough to dismount me from my hobby," said Lance. "What ! when I thought I had the prettiest girl in the Castle dancing after my whistle, to find that she gave me the bag to hold, and was smuggling in a corner with a rich old Puritan ! " " Credit me, Lance, it is not as thou thinkest," said Whitaker. '■ Bridgenorth cares not for these amorous toys, and thou thinkest of nothing else. But it is fitting our Knight should know that he has met with Deborah in secret, and given hei 1 ; for never Puri gave gold yet, but it v. as earnest for some devil's work done, or to be done." " Nay, but," said Lance, " I would not be such a dog-bolt as to go and betray the girl to our master. She hath a right to follow h< r fancy, as the dame said who kissed her cow — only I do not much approve her choice, thai is all. lie cannot be six years short of fifty ; and a verjuice count . under the penthouse of a slouched and bag of lioncs, swaddled up in a black cloak, is no such temptation, methinks." "1 tell you once more,'' said Whitaker, "you are mistaken; and 88 PEYERIL OF THE PEAK. that there neither is, nor can be, any matter of love between them, but only some intrigue, concerning, perhaps, this same noble Countess of Derby. I tell thee, it behoves my master to know it, and I will pre- sently tell it to him." So saying, and in spite of all the remonstrances which Lance con- tinued to make on behalf of Mistress Deborah, the steward rode up to the main body of their little party, and mentioned to the Knight and the Countess of Derby what he had just heard from the keeper, adding at the same time his own suspicions, that Master Bridgenorth of Moultrassie-Hall was desirous to keep up some system of espial in the Castle of Martindale, either in order to secure his menaced. ven- geance on the Countess of Derby, as authoress of his brother-in-law's death, or for some unknown, but probably sinister purpose. The Knight of the Peak was filled with high resentment at Whit- aker's communication. According to his prejudices, those of the opposite faction were supposed to make up by wit and intrigue what they wanted in open force ; and he now hastily conceived that his neighbour, whose prudence he always respected, and sometimes even dreaded, was maintaining, for his private purposes, a clandestine cor- respondence with a member of his family. If this was for the betrayal of his noble guest, it argued at once treachery and presumption ; or, viewing the whole as Lance had done, a criminal intrigue with a woman so near the person of Lady Peveril, was in itself, he deemed, a piece of sovereign impertinence and disrespect on the part of such a person as Bridgenorth, against whom Sir Geoffrey's anger was kindled accordingly. Whitaker had scarce regained his post in the rear, when he again quitted it, and galloped to the main body with more speed than before, with the unpleasing tidings that they were pursued by half a score of horsemen, and better. "Ride on briskly to Hartley-nick," said the Knight, "and there, with Cod to help, we will bide the knaves. — Countess of Derby— one word and a short one — Farewell ! — you must ride forward with Whit- aker and another careful fellow, and let me alone to see that no one treads on your skirts.'' '• i will abide with you and stand them," said the Countess ; you know of old, I fear not to look on man's work." " You must ride on, madam," said the Knight, " for the sake of the young Karl, and the rest of my noble friend's family. There is no manly work which can be worth your looking upon; it is but child's play that these fellows bring with them." As she yielded a reluctant consent to continue her flight, they reached the bottom of Hartley-nick, a pass very steep and craggy, and where the road, or rather path, which had hitherto passed over more open ground, became pent up and confined, betwixt copsewood on the one side, and, on the other, the precipitous bank of a mountain- stream. The Countess of Derby, after an affectionate adieu to Sir Geoffrey, and having requested him to convey her kind commendations to her little page-elect and his mother, proceeded up the pass at a round pace, and, with her attendants and escort, was soon out of sight. Im- 'n&T PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. S 9 mediately after she had disappeared, the pursuers came up with Sir Geoffrey Peveril, who had divided and drawn up his party so as com- pletely to occupy the road at three different points. The opposite party was led, as Sir Geoffrey had expected, by Major Bridgenorth. At his side was a person in black, with a silver grey- hound on his arm ; and he was followed by about eight or ten inhabit- ants of the village of Martindale-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 ordered his own people to present their pistols and carabines ; and after assuming that menacing atti- tude, he repeated, with a voice of thunder, " Halt, or we fire !" The other party halted accordingly, and Major Bridgenorth ad- 'vanced, as if to parky. " Why, how now, neighbour," said Sir Geoffrey, as if lie had at that moment recognised him for the first time, " what makes you ride so sharp this morning? Are you not afraid to harm your horse, or sp iil your spurs?" " Sii Geoffrey," said the Major, ' : I have no time for jesting— 1 am on the King's affairs." •• 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. li Show him your warrant," said Bridge-north to the man in black formerly mentioned, who was a pursuivant. Then taking the warrant from the officer, he gave it to Sir < leoffrey — " To this, at least, you will pay regard." li The same regard which you would have paid to it a month back or so," said the Knight, tearing the warrant to shreds. — "What a plague do you stare at ? Do you think you have a monopoly of rebel- lion, and that we have not a right to show a trick of i dience in our turn ?" " Make way, Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorth, " or you will ipel me to do that I may be sorry for. 1 am in l the avenger of the blood of one of the Lord's saints, and I will follow the chase while Heaven giants me an arm to make '• You shall make no \. , but at your peril," said Sir Geoffn y ; " this is my ground — I have been harasse I : 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 i ids over the grounds, nor tamper, as you have done, am m I my servants, with impunity. I have had you in respect for certain kind doings, which I will not cither forget or deny, ami you will find it difficult to make me chaw a sword or bend a pistol against you; but offer any ho movement, or pi ot, and I will make I you ; \inl lor the.ie i .who come hither to annoy a noble my bound , unl i draw them off, 1 will presently send »f them to the i in their time." ' Make room at your proper peril," said Major Bridg north; and he put his right hand on his holster-pistol. Sii Grey closed with him 9 o PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. instantly, seized him by the collar, and spurred Black Hastings, check- ing him at the same time, so that the horse made a courbette, 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 adversary with a bullet. But Bridgenorth's courage, notwith- standing his having served some time with the Parliament army, was rather of a civil than a military character ; and he was inferior to his adversary, not only in strength and horsemanship, but also and espe- cially 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, it was no wonder that Bridgenorth should be unhorsed with much violence. While Sir Geoffrey sprung from the saddle, the party of Bridgenorth advanced to rescue 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. The pursuivant took the hint, and easily found a reason for not prosecuting a dangerous duty. "The warrant," he said, "was de- stroyed. 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. — " 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 headborough, who were not without some tacit suspicion, that though Peveril was interrupting the direct course of law in this matter, yet he was likely to have his offence considered by favourable judges ; and therefore it might be as much for their interest 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 defection, 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 con- trary, he mounted his horse with a sullen and dejected air; and, ...king a sign to his followers, turned back the same road which he tiad come. Sir Geoffrey looked after him for some minutes. " Now, there goes a man," said he, " 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 skull-cap, and a pair of long ears rising on each side on't, 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 get on the track of the Countess again after all." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 9 r K I had as soon they should course my lady's white tame doe," an- swered Lance, in the spirit of his calling. He proceeded to execute his master's orders by dogging Major Bridgenorth at a distance, and observing his course from such heights as commanded the country. But it was soon evident that no manoeuvre was intended, and that the Major was taking the direct road homeward. When this was ascer- tained, Sir Geoffrey dismissed most of his followers ; and, retaining only his own domestics, rose hastily forward to overtake the Countess. It is only necessary to say farther, that he completed his purpose of escorting the Countess of Derby to Vale-Royal, without meeting any farther hinderance by the way. The lord of the mansion readily un- dertook to conduct the high-minded lady to Liverpool, and the task of seeing her safely embarked for her son's hereditary dominions, where there was no doubt of her remaining in personal safety until the accusa- tion against her for breach of the Royal Indemnity, by the execution of Christian, could be brought to some compromise. For a length of time this was no easy matter. Clarendon, then at the head of Charles's administration, considered her rash action, though dictated by motives which the human breast must, in some respects, sympathize with, as calculated to shake the restored tranquillity of England, by exciting the doubts and jealousies of those who had to apprehend the consequences of what is called, in our own days, a reaction. At the some time, the high services of this distinguished family — the merits of the Countess herself— the memory of her gallant husband — and the very peculiar circumstances 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 imposi- tion of a heavy fine, amounting, we believe, to many thousand pounds ; which was levied, with great difficulty, out of the shattered estates of the young Earl of Derby. CHAPTER VIII. My native land, good night ! Byron. LADY Pf.vf.RII, remained in no small anxiety for several hours after her husband and the Countess had departed from Martindale ( 'a I ; especially when she learned that Major bridgenorth, concerning whose motions she made private enquiry, had taken horse with a part)', and was gone to the westward in the same direction with Sir Geoffrey. At length her immediate uneasiness in regard to the safety of her husband and the Countess was removed, by the arrival of Whit with her husband's commendations, and an account of the scufile betwixt himself and Major Bridgenorth. Lady Peveril shuddered to sec how nearly they had approached to val of the scenes of civil discord ; and while she was thankful to Heaven for her husband's immediate preservation, she could not help 9 2 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. feeling both 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 her- self, that Bridgenorth, thus irritated, might be a troublesome, if not a dangerous enemy. His rights as a creditor, he had hitherto used with gentleness ; but if 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 himself, foresaw considerable incon- venience from the measures which the law put in his power. She comforted herself with the recollection, however, that she had still a strong hold on Bridgenorth, through his paternal affection, and from the fixed opinion which he had hitherto manifested, that his daughter's health could only flourish while under her charge. But any expectations of reconciliation which Lady Peveril might probably have founded on this circumstance, were frustrated by an incident which took place in the course of the following morning. Thegovernante, Mistress Deborah, who has been already mentioned, went forth, as usual, with the children, to take their morning exercise in the Park, accompanied by Rachael, a girl who acted occasionally as her assistant in attending upon them. But not as usual did she return. It was near the hour of breakfast, when Ellesmere, with an unwonted degree of primness in her mouth and manner, came to acquaint her lacfy that Mistress 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 in- difference. Ellesmere gave a short and doubtful cough, and then proceeded to say, that Rachael had been sent home with little Master Julian, and that Mistress Deborah had been pleased 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 Peveril. " Is the wench turned silly," exclaimed the lady, something angrily, " that she does not obev my orders, and return at regular hours ?" " She may be turning silly, - ' said Ellesmere, mysteriously ; " 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, impatiently. '• \ ou are strangely oracular this morning. If you know any thing to the pre- judice of this young woman, I pray you speak it out." '• I prejudice !" said Ellesmere ; " I scorn to prejudice man, woman, or child, in the way of a fellow-servant ; only I wish your ladyship to look about you, and use your own eyes— that is all." " You bid me use my own eyes, Ellesmere ; but I suspect," answered the lady, " you would be better pleased were I contented to see through your spectacles. I charge you— and you know I will be obeyed— I charge you to tell me what you know or suspect about this girl, Deborah Debbitch." " / see through spectacles ! " exclaimed the indignant Abigail ; your ladyship will pardon me in that, for I never use them, unless a pair that PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 93 belonged to my poor mother, which I 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 it is neither bread nor butter of mine. Only," (here she began to speak with her lips shut, so as scarce to per- mit a sound to issue, and mincing her words as if she pinched off the ends of them before she suffered them to escape,)—" only, madam, if Mistress Debotah goes so often of a morning to Moultrassie Holt, why, I 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.'' " Only, madam," pursued the Abigail, " that since Bridgenorth came back from Chesterfield, and saw you at the Castle Hall, 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 oM^r 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 construc- tion of the governantc's motives, could not help laughing at the idea of a man of Bridgenorth's precise appearance, strict principles, and re- served habits, being suspected of a design of gallantry ; and readily concluded, that Mistress Deborah had found her advantage in -ratify- ing 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 Mistress Deborah appeared, Major Bridgenorth's only man-servant arrived at the Castle on horseback, dressed as for a journey ; and having delivered a letter addressed 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 concerned, 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 — Th< " Madam — Please it your Ladyship, "I write more to excuse myself to your ladyship, than : o accuse either you or others, in respect that I am en ibl it becomes our frail natun bettei to iw n imperfection , than to 1 omplain ol if others. Neither do I mean to speak of pa particu] in respect of your worthy ladyship, being sensible that if 1 have served 94 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. you in that period when our Israel might be called triumphant, you have more than requited me, in giving to my arms a child, redeemed, 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 me at our hist meeting, (seeing that the woman who was the cause of strife is accounted one of your kindred people,) I do entreat you, in like manner, to pardon my enticing away from your service the young woman called Deborah Debbitch, whose nature, instructed as she hath been under your ladyship's direction, is, it may be, indispen- sable to the health of my dearest child. I had purposed, madam, with your gracious permission, that Alice should have remained at Martin- dale Castle under your kind charge, until she could so far discern betwixt good and evil, that it should be matter of conscience 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 sorrow- fully, that a person so excellently gifted as yourself— I mean touching natural qualities — has not yet received that true light, which is a lamp to the paths, but are contented to stumble 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 re- moved, the land will most likely be involved in deeper darkness than ever ; and the return of the King, to which I and many looked forward as a manifestation of divine favour, seems to prove little else than a permitted triumph of the Prince of the Air, who setteth about to restore his Vanity-fair of bishops, deans, and such like, extruding 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 followers of Laud and of Williams, who were cast forth by the late Parliament, and that an Act of Con- formity, or 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 I may dwell in peace, and enjoy 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 wilder- ness ? — And herein I blame myself, madam, that I went in the single- ness of my heart too readily into that carousing in the house of feasting, wherein my love of union, and my desire to show respect to your lady- ship, were made a snare to me. But I trust it will be an atonement, that I am now about to absent myself from the place of my birth, and the house of my fathers, as well as from the place which holdeth the dust of those pledges of my affection. I have nlso 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 ; and that without any chance of my obtaining reparation at his hand, whereby I may say the hand of a kinsman was lifted up against my credit and my life. These things are bitter to the taste of the old Adam ; wherefore, 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, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 95 who will arrange them with such attention to Sir Geoffrey's convenience, as justice, and the due exercise of the law, will permit ; for, as I trust I shall have grace to resist the temptation to make the weapons 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, " I remain, "Your devoted servant to command, " Ralph Bridgenorth. " Written at Moultrassic-Hall, this tenth day of July, 1660." So 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 than 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 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 present, Ellesmere.'' replied her lady. " My letter says nothing of marriage ; but it would appear that Master Bridgenorth, being about to leave this country engaged Deborah to take care of his child ; and I am sure I am heartily glad of it, for the infant's sake." " And I am glad of it for my own,'' said Ellesmere ; " 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 by honest service now-a-days; then she writes me about sending her things, as if I re mistress of the wardrobe to her ladyship — ay, and recommends ter Julian to the care of my age and experience, forsooth, as if she needed I nmend the dear little jewel to me ; and then, to speak of my acre — But I will bundle away her ra^s to the Hall, with a witness !" "Do it with all civility,'' said the lady, "and let Whitakcr send hei 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, and would spoil the best ever pinned a gown. ' '• I I a good mere, when I spoiled thee," said the lady; "but teh i to kiss the little Alice for me, and to 96 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. offer my good wishes to Major Bridgenorth, forhis temporal and future happiness." She permitted no observation or reply, but dismissed her attendant, without entering into farther particulars. When Ellesmere had withdrawn, Lady Peveril began 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 of domestic misfortunes, and the increasing gloom of a sincere, yet stern feeling of devotion, rendered lonely and unhappy ; and she had more than one anxious 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 betwixt them, more fatal than the last had been. In the meanwhile, she could not help expressing to Doctor Dum- merar her surprise and sorrow, that all which she had done and attempted, to establish peace and 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, " Bridgenorth would not have been at the Castle on the morning 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 termination 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 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 pre- science. But man is, while in this vale of tears, like an uninstructed 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." Having spoken this with a sententious air, the Doctor took his shovel-shaped hat, and went down to the Castle green, to conclude a match of bowls with Whitaker, which had probably suggested this notable illustration of the uncertain course of human events. Two days afterwards, 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 homeward 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 lie usually showed in cases where Lady Peveril was concerned, lie heard of her liberality towards the Presbyterian party with great indignation. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 97 " I 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 conventicle 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, resentment 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 mentioned her offence. " Thou hast played the knave with me, Meg," he said, shaking his head, and smiling at the same time, "and thou knowest in what matter ; but I think thou art true churchwoman, and didst only act from some silly womanish fancy of keeping lair with these roguish Roundheads. But let me have no more of this. I had rather Martin- dale Castle were again rent by their bullets, 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 explaining what she had heard of Master Bridgenorth — the disappearance of the gover- nante with his daughter, and placed Bridgenorth's letter in his hand. Sir Geoffrey shook his head at first, and then laughed extremely, 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 marry his own maid- servant, or some other person's. Deborah 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 uncharitable as Kllesmere— I believe it but to be affection to his child." "Pshaw! pshaw!" answered the Knight, '•women arc eternally thinking of children ; but among men, dame, many one caresses tin- infant that he may kiss the child'-, maid ; 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 Bos- worth-field— as good a pedigree as that of the great grandson oi I .1 trow. But let us hear what he sa\s for bin —I shall spell it out if there is any roguery in the letter about love and likii gh 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 carved work in the church, I cannol ■-> he means lo bun 1 Ivei ticks which my grandsi etobe pi on the altar at Martindalc-Moultrassie ; and which his cro] ; frici; [ious villains as they are, stole and melted d I! 98 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. And in like manner, the only breaking I know of, was when they pulled down the rails of the communion-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 re- moving with a vengeance. However, 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 of the saddle as I might have lifted thee into it, Margaret — I 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 I 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 Hal!, with a word at the window." " I should be very glad, Sir Geoffrey," said Lady Peveril, " that you could come to a reconciliation with this worthy man, for such I must hold Master Bridgenorth to be." " But for his dissenting principles, as good a neighbour as ever lived," said Sir Geoffrey. " But I scarce see," continued the lady, "any possibility of bringing about a conclusion so desirable." " Tush, dame," answered the Knight, " thou knowest 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 confidence 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 their mutual and separate duties permitted her in general to entertain. She could not imagine what mode of 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 farther enquiry. 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 winded his horn in the court, and a large packet was brought in, addressed to the worship- ful Sir Geoffrey Peveril, Justice of the Peace, ami so forth ; for he had been placed in authority so scon as the King's Restoration was put upon a settled basis. Upon opening the packet, which he did with no si^all feeling of importance, he found that it contained the warrant PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 99 which he had solicited for replacing Doctor Dummerar in the parish, from which he had been forcibly ejected during the usurpation.* Few incidents could have given more delight to Sir Geoffrey. He could forgive a stout able-bodied sectary or nonconformist, who en- forced 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 Hugh Peters through the breach of his Castle ; and for his sake, without nicely distinguish- ing betwixt sects or their teachers, he held all who mounted a pulpit without warrant from the Church of England — perhaps he might also in private except that of Rome — to be disturbers of the public tran- quillity — seducers of the congregation from their lawful preachers — instigators of the late Civil War — and men well disposed to risk the fate of a new one. Then, on the other hand, besides gratifying his dislike to Solsgracc, he saw much satisfaction in the task of replacing his old friend and associate in sport and in clanger, the worthy Doctor Dummerar, in his legitimate rights, and in the ease and comforts of his vicarage. He communicated the contents ol the packet, with great triumph, to his lady, who now perceived the sense of the mysterious paragraph in Major Bridgcnorth's letter, concerning the removal of the candlestick, and the extinction of light and doctrine in the land. She pointed this out to Sir Geoffrey, and endeavoured to pursuade 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 Solsgracc and his congregation, which circumstances admitted of. This, the lady argued, would be doing no injury whatever 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 premature expulsion of a favourite preacher. There was much wisdom, as well 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 triumph? The ejection of Mr. Solsgracc was so hastily execu as to give it some appearance of persecution ; though, more ju id, it was the restoring of his predecessor to his legal rights. imself seemed to lie desirous to make his sufferings as manifest as possible. He held out to the last ; and on the Sabbath after he had received intimation of his ejection, attempted to make his way to the pulpit, as usual, suppi Master Bridgcnorth's attorney, Win-the-Fight, and a few zealous follow Just as this party came into the churchyard on the one side, Dr. Dummerar, dressed in full pontil in a sort of triumphal procession, accompanied by Pcvcril of the Peak, Sir Jasper Cranbourne, and other aliers of distinction, enterecLat the otb prevent an actual struggle in the church, the parish-officers were ent the farther of the Presbyterian ter ; fleeted without farther damage than a broken head, in- flicted li inkeeper of the Pcvcril Arms the Pj h ney of Chesterfield. II 3 ioo PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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 Mr. Win-the-Fight, (in that day unaptly named,) he attempted to maintain himself — bolted gates — barred windows — and, as report said, (though falsely,) made provision of firearms to resist the officers. 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, pro- ceeding to the study, found no other garrison save the Presbyterian parson, with the attorney, who gave up posssession of the premises, after making protestation against 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-nature, 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 Moultrassie-Hall, which they chose for the place of their retreat. But the absence of Sir Geoffrey gave the rein to some disorders, which, if present, he would assuredly have restrained. 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 drunk 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 interference with their games at skittles, football, and so forth, and, moreover, remembered the unmerciful length of his sermons, dressed iip an effigy with his Geneva gown and band, and his steeple-crowned hat, which they paraded through the village, and burnt on the spot whilom occupied by a stately Maypole, 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 Calvin- istical 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 Geoffrey Peveril, as having proceeded with indecent severity and haste upon this occasion ; and rumour took care to make the usual additions to the reality. It was currently reported, that the desperate Cavalier, Peveril of the Peak, had fallen on a Presbyterian congregation, while engaged in the peaceable exercise of religion, with a band of armed men — had slain some, desperately wounded many more, and finally pursued the preacher 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 still surrounded by flames, while he himself fled by the back part of the house. And although few people believed in the extent of the atrocities thus imputed to our PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. ' lor 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. ' Besstts. 'Tis a challenge, sir, is it not ? Gentleman. 'Tis an inviting to the field. King and no King, For a day or two after this forcible expulsion from the vicar Mr. Solsgrace continued his residence at Moultrassie-Hall, where the natural melancholy attendant on his situation added to the gloom of the owner of the mansion. In the morning, the ejected divine made excursions to different families in the neighbourhood, to whom his ministry had been acceptable in the days of his prosperity, and from whose grateful recollections of that period he now found sympathy and consolation. He did not require to be condoled with, because he was deprived of an easy and competent maintenance, 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. Solsgrace was sincere ; and if he had many of the uncharitable pre- judices against other sects, which polemical controversy had gene- rated, 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 doc- trines in which he believed. But he was soon to prepare for leaving the district which Heaven, he conceived, had assigned to him as his comer of the vineyard; he was to abandon his Hock to the wolf — was to forsake those with whom he had held sweet counsel in reli- gious communion — was to leave the recently converted to relapse into false doctrines, and forsake the wavering, whom his continued cares might have directed into the right path— these were of them- selves deep causes of sorrow, and were aggravated, doubtless, by natural feelings with which all men, especially those whose duties or habits have confined them to a limited circle, regard the hi from wonted scenes, and their accustomed haunts of soli- musing, or social intercourse. There was, indeed, a plan of placing Mr. Solsgrace at the head of a nonconforming con n'on in lii^ presenl parish, which his fol- lowers would have consented to endow with a sufficient Bui a' i the act for universal conformity was not yet :d, such a measure was understood to be impending, and there \ meral opinion among the Presbyterians, ili.it in no hands to be more strictly enforced, than in those of Peveril of the Peak. Solsgrace himself considered not only his personal danger rable, for, assuming perhaps more consequence than tually attached to him or his productions, he conceived the hon< ht to be his mortal and determined enemy, — but he also 102 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. conceived that he should serve the cause of his church by absenting himself from Derbyshire. " Less known pastors," he said, " though perhaps more worthy of the name, may be permitted to assemble, the scattered flocks 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 amongst 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 themselves 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 expressed to his desponding friends, and which he expatiated upon at more length with Major Bridgenorth ; not failing, with friendly zeal, to rebuke the haste which the latter had shown to thrust out the hand of fellowship to the Amalekite woman, whereby he reminded him, " He 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 Bridge- north, who liked, no better than any other man, to hear of his own mishaps, and at the same time to have them imputed to his own mis- conduct, the worthy divine proceeded to take shame to himself for his own sinful compliance in that matter ; for to the vengeance justly due for that unhappy 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 destruction 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 respected, and who was now a confessor in the cause of their joint faith, he began to look back with disapproval on his own conduct, and to suspect that he had permitted 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 religious and political principles. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 103 One morning, as Major Bridgenorth had wearied himself with several details respecting the arrangement of his affairs, he was reposing in the leathern easy-chair, beside the latticed window, a pos- ture which, by natural association, recalled to him the memory of former 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 I 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 unclean birds, whom, contrary to their ravening nature, a miracle com- pelled to minister to him." " 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 such was now the case. Both Bridgenorth and Solsgrace were surprised at the sound, and even disposed to anticipate some farther oppression on the part of government, when the Major's old servant introduced, with little cere- mony, (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 ilier. He bowed formally, but courteously, to both gentlemen, and said, that he was " Sir Jasper Cranbournc, charged With an especial message to Master Ralph Bridgenorth of Moultrassie-1 1 all, by his honourable friend Sir Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, and that he requested to know whether Master Bridgenorth would be pleased to receive his acquittal of commission her where." " Anything which Sir Geoffrey Peveril can have to say to me," said Major Bridgenorth, "may be told instantly, and before my friend, from whom I have no secrets." "The presence of any other friend were, instead of being objec- ible, the thing in the world most to be desired," said Sir ja a moment's hesitation, and looking at Mr. Solsgrace ; " but this man seems to be a sort of clergyman." • lam not conscious of any secrets," answered Bridgenorth, " nor d 1 I desire to have any, in which a cl xgyman is an unfitting con- t your pleasure," replied Sir Jasper. "The confidence, for Tiught 1 know, may be well enough chosen, for your divines (always d no enemie it h matters as 1 am at v. ith you upon." ed, sir,'' answered Mr. Bridgenorth, gravely ; "and 1 pray you to be seated, unless it is rather your pleasure to stand." io 4 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " I must, in the first place, deliver myself of my small commission," answered Sir Jasper, drawing himself 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 Peveril, Master Bridgenorth, hath carefully considered with himself the unhappy circumstances which at present separate you as neighbours. And he remembers many passages in former times — I 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 imperturbable 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. — I think, Master Bridgenorth, you cannot but remember your letter to the Lady Peveril, of which I have here a rough copy, in which you complain of the hard measure which you have received at Sir Geoffrey's hand, and in particular, when he pulled you from your horse at or near Hartley-nick. Now, Sir Geoffrey thinks so well of you, as to believe, that, were it not for the wide difference betwixt his descent and rank and your own, you would have sought to bring this matter to a gentlemanlike arbitrement, as the only mode whereby your stain may be honourably 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, 1 shall be ready to settle the time, place, and other circum- stances of your meeting." " And I," said Solsgrace, with a solemn voice, " should the Author of Evil tempt my friend to accept of so bloodthirsty a proposal, would be the first to pronounce against him sentence of the greater excommunication." " It is not you whom I address, reverend sir," replied the envoy; " your interest, not unnaturally, may determine you to be more anxious about your patron's life than about his honour. I 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 obviously a struggle in that gen- tleman's bosom, between the suggestions of human honour and those of religious principle ; but the latter prevailed. He calmly waved receiving the paper which Sir Jasper offered to him, and spoke to the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 105 following purpose : — " It may not be known to you, Sir Tasper, that since the general pouring out of Christian light upon this kingdom, many solid men have been led to doubt whether the shedding human blood by the hand of a fellow-creature be in any 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 what- soever 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 protection of our country against invasion ; or of our rights of property, and the freedom of our laws and of our conscience, 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 to remain in the scabbard, when, having sustained a grievous 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 with patience," said Sir Jasper; "and now, Master Bridgenorth, take it not amiss, if I beseech you to bethink yourself better on this matter. 1 vow to Heaven, sir, that your honour lies a-bleeding ; and that in condescending to afford you this fair meeting, 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 cross- ing 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 gentle- man. Besides, that the Knight's exquisite skill of fence may enable him, as his good-nature 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, em- phatically, by way of commenting on this speech, which Sir Jasper had uttered very p ith< tically, "are cruel." " 1 pray to have no farther interruption from your reverence, - ' said Sir Jasper ; " especially as I think this affair very little concerns you ; and I entreat that you permit me to discharge myself regularly of my commission from my worthy friend." So saying, he took his sheath pi< r from his belt, and passing the point through the silk thread which secured the letter, he once more, and literally at sword point, gracefully tendered it to Major Bridgenorth, who again waved it aside, though colouring deeplj the sai 1 time, as if he was putting a marked constraint upon himself — drew back, and made Sir Jaspei I ranbourne a deep bow. ce it is to be thus," said Sir Jasper, "I must myself do vio- lence to the seal of Sir Geoffrey's letter, and read it to you, that I may fully acquit myself of the 1 harge intrusted to me, and make • r Bridgenorth, equally aware of the generous infc ntions of Sir Geoffrey on your behalf." " If," said Major Bridgenorth, " tl nl i of the letter be to 1 • other purpose th in you have intimated, methinks farther cerem 1 1 unnecessary on this occasion, as I have already tak< n mj CO M io6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " 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 follows : — " For the worthy hands of Ralph Bridgenorth, Esquire, of Moultrassie-Hall — These : " By the honoured conveyance of the Worshipful Sir Jasper Cran- bourne, Knight, of Long-Mallington. " Master Bridgenorth, " We have been given to understand by your letter to our loving wife, Dame Margaret Peveril, that you hold hard construction of cer- tain passages betwixt you and I, 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 recourse to me, to request such satisfaction as is due from one gentleman of con- dition 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 Cranbourne, 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 circumstances and an hour for our meeting ; which, whether early or late — on foot or horseback — with rapier or backsword — I refer to yourself, with all the other privileges of a challenged person ; only desiring, that if you decline 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 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 Martindale Castle, this same of sixteen hundred and sixty." " Bear back my respects to Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Major Bridge- north. " According to his light, his meaning may be fair towards me ; but tell him that our quarrel had its rise in his own wilful aggres- sion towards me ; and that though I wish to be in charity with all 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 advanced years and past misfortunes might 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 PEVERIL OP THE PEAK. 107 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 few minutes afterwards, the tread of his horse died away at a considerable distance. Bridgenorth,had held his hand upon his brow ever since his depar- ture, 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 Martindale Castle," he said. " Men will hereafter think of me as a whipped, beaten, dishonourable fellow, whom every one may baftle and insult at their pleasure. It is well I am leaving the house of my father." Master Solsgrace approached his friend with much sympathy, and grasped him by the hand. " Noble brother," 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 sacrifice 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, I have not murdered this man for the lucre of gain, like a robber — nor for the acquisition of power, like a tyrant, — nor for the gratification of revenge, like a darkened savage ; but because the imperious voice of worldly honour said, ' Go forth — kill or be killed — is it not 1 that have sent thee ? ' Bethink. thee, my worthy fru ad, 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 thee 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 I that my path through the wilderness of this world will, for some space at least, be along with one, e zeal and friendship are so active to support me when I am faint- in the way.'' While the inhabitants oi [oul 1 Hall thus commui n the purport of Sir Jasper Cranbourne's visit, that worthy exi ited the surprise oi Sir * 1< offr< y Peveril, byreporting the had been received. "1 took him for a man ol 1," said Sir 1 ; — "nay, I would have sworn it, had any one asked my testimony. But thi a silken pui - out of . ear. I have done a folly for him that I will never do for another; and that is, to think a P by- a would fighl without In, preacher's permission. Give them a hours' in howl a psalm to a tunc that is worse , the cries of a flogged hound, and the villains will lay on like foi 1. calm, tool, gen l»ke turn upon the sod, hand io8 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. to hand, in a neighbourly way, they have not honour enough to under- take it. But enough of our crop-eared cur of a neighbour. — Sir Jasper, you will tarry with us to dine, and see how Dame Margaret's kitchen smokes ; and after dinner I will show you a long-winged falcon fly. She is not mine, but the Countess's, who brought her from London on her fist 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 Margaret overheard the good Knight's resentment mutter itself off, with those feelings with which we listen to the last growling of the thunder-storm ; which, as the black cloud 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 Bridgenorth, attempted to open ; and she blessed God internally that it had not terminated in blood- shed. But these reflections 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 jslow ; but after this period so little matter worthy of mark occurred at Martindale, that we must hurry over hastily the transactions of several years. CHAPTER X. Cleopatra. Give me to drink mandragora, That 1 may sleep away this gap of time. Antony and Cleopatra. THERE passed, as we hinted at the conclusion of the last chapter, four or five years after the period we have dilated upon ; the events of which scarcely require to be discussed, so far as our present purpose is concerned, in as many lines. The Knight and his ladv continued to reside at their Castle — she, with prudence and with patience, endeavouring to repair the damages which the Civil Wars had in- flicted 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 tradition 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 happily 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 Martindale estate — all others being paid off. It would have been most PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 109 desirable that this incumbrance also should be cleared, and it was the great object of Dame Margaret's economy to effect the discharge ; for although interest was regularly settled with Master Win-the-Fight, the 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 broken head in the churchyard of Martindale cum Moultrassie. Dame Margaret sometimes transacted the necessary business with him in person ; and when he came to the Castle on these occasions, she thought she saw a malicious and disobliging expression in his manner and countenance. 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 necessary to the debtor to require it. It seemed to Lady Peveril, that the agent, in such cases, was acting under the strict ciders of his absent employer, concerning .vhosc 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 attempted to open with Major Bridgenorth, that gentleman left his scat of Moultrassie-Hall in the care of his old hou - k per, and departed, no one knew whither, having in company with him his daughter Alice and Mrs. Deborah Debbitch, now formally installed in all the duties of a governante; to these were added the Reverend Master Solsgrace. 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 pur- pose of marrying Mrs. Deborah, and of letting the news be cold, and the laugh of the neighbourhood be ended, ere he 'nought her down as mistress of Moultrassie-Hall. This rumour dii d away; and it was then affirmed, that he had removed to foreign pa :s to ensure the con- tinuance of health in so delicate a constitution as hat of little Alice. But when the Major's dread of Popery was remembered, together with the still deeper antipathies of worthy Master Nehemiah Sols- grace, it was resolved unanimously, that nothing less than what they might deem a fair chance of converting the Pope would have in- duced the parties to trust themselves within Catholic dominions. The most prevailing opinion was, that they had gone to New England, the refuge then of many whom too intimate concern with the affairs of the late times, or the desire of enj uncontrolled freedom of conscience, had induced to emigrate from Britain. Lady Peveril could not help entertaining a vague idea, that Bridge- north was not so distant. The extreme order in which every thing was maintained at Moultrassie-I I all, seemed— no disparagement to the care of Dame Dickens the housckeej id the other persons Lged — l" . that the mastei not so very far olt, but that al inspection might be apprehended. It is true, that the domestics nor the attorney answered any question ter Bridgenorth; but there was an air of mystery about them when interrogated, that seemed to ai more tli fter 1 tit had left the country, a no PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. singular incident took place. Sir Geoffrey was absent at the Chester field races, arid Lady Peveril, who was in the habit of walking around every part of the neighbourhood unattended, or only accompanied 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 supposed to be infectious. Lady Peveril never allowed apprehensions of this kind to stop "devoted charitable deeds ; " but she did not choose to expose either her son or her attendant to the risk which she herself, in some confidencethat she knew precautions for escaping 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 occurred to detain her at the hut of her patient. It was a broad autumn moonlight, 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 little 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 distance was better than two miles, but might be considerably abridged by passing through an avenue belonging to the estate of Moultrassie-Hall, which she had avoided as she came, not from the ridiculous rumours which pro- nounced it to be haunted, but because her husband was much dis- pleased when any attempt was made to render the walks of the Castle and Hall common to the inhabitants of both. The good lady, in con- sideration, perhaps, of extensive latitude allowed to her in the more im- portant 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 acquaint- ance ; for it is surprising how much real power will be cheerfully re- signed to the fair sex, for the pleasure 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 inhabited domains of the Hall, the Lady Peveril deter- mined 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, whistlingcheerily, 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 lady's side, peti- tioned 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 signs of terror, began to recollect the report, that the first Squire of Mouitrassie, the brewer of Chester- field, who had bought the estate, and then died of melancholy for lack of something to do, (and, as was said, not without suspicions of suicide.) was supposed to walk in this sequestered avenue, accompanied by a large headless mastiff, which, when he was alive, 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, PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. in would have been truly a hopeless 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 per- mitted 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, Lady Peveril ascended the stile, and was soon hidden from the broad light of the moon-beams, by the numerous and entangled boughs of the huge elms, which, meeting from either side, totally overarched 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 Moultrassic-Ilall, which lay at some distance, was calculated 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 felt, 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 checkered light which found its way through the sil\ iway, showed her something which resembled the figure of a man. Lady Peveril paused a mom but instantly advanced : — her bosom, perhaps, gave one startled throb, as a debt to the superstitious belief of the times, but she instantly repelled the thought of supernatural appearances. From those that were merely mortal she had nothing to fear. A marauder on the game was the worst character whom she was likely to encounter ; he would be sure to hide himself from her observation. She advanced, accordingly, steadily ; and, as she did so, had the satisfaction to ob- serve that the figure, as she expected, gave place to her, and glided 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, bethought herself that this wanderer of the night might, nay must, be in her vicinity, her resolution could not prevent her mendin and that with so little precaution, that, stumbling over the limb of a tree, which, twisted off b) a late tempest, still lay in the she fell, and, as she f< II. iud. A strong hand in a monn nl after d to hi r fear by assisting her to rise, and a v not a stranger, though they had been long un- h id, u Is il no! ou, Lady Peveril ? '' "It is I. imanding her astonishment and fear; '"'and, if m ■ it, 1 speak to Master Bridgenorth." ' : I was that man,'' he replied, "while opp He spoke nothing more, but continued to walk beside' her for a minute or two in silence. She felt her situation embarrassing ; and ii2 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. to divest it of that feeling, as well as out of real interest in the ques- tion, she asked him, " How her god-daughter Alice now was ?" '• Of god-daughter, madam,'' answered Major Bridgenorth, " I know nothing ; that being one of the names which have been introduced, to the corruption and pollution of God's ordinances. The infant who owed to your ladyship (so called) her escape from disease and death, is a healthy and thriving girl, as I am given to understand by those in whose charge she is lodged, for 1 have not lately seen her. And it is even the recollection 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 clanger ! " •• You have some news, then, yet to learn, madam," said Major Bridgenorth ; " but you will hear, in the course of to-morrow, reasons why I dare not appear openly in the neighbourhood of my own pro- perty, and wherefore there is small judgment in committing the know- ledge of my present residence to any one connected 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 im- pression — by no rash scheme — I hope " '" Pardon my interrupting you, madam," said Bridgenorth. <: 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, with- out losing a friend there — But Heaven smote me for my apostasy, the rather that I abused the name of religion, as a self-seeker, 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 enthusiasm 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 pleaded, as the ruling motives of men's actions. The saga- cious Vane — the brave and skilful Harrison — were men who acted avowedly under the influence of such. Lady Peveril, therefore, was more grieved than surprised at the language she heard Major Bridge- north use, and reasonably concluded, that the society and circum- stances 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 melan- choly 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 113 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 for- bear giving to you, such is the strength of habit, one of those idle titles by which we poor potsherds are wont, in our pride, to denomi- nate each other — I walk not only in suspicion, but in that degree of danger, that, were your husband to meet me at this instant — 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." '• You surprise me by your language, Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, who now felt rather anxious to be relieved from his company, and with that purpose walked on somewhat hastily. lie 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 heir to the crown is an avowed Papist ; and who dare assert, save sycophants and timeservers, 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 my solitary and midnight walks, when I thought on your kindness to the dead and to the living, it was my prayer that I might have the means granted to warn you— and lo ! Heaven hath heard me." '• Major Bridgenorth," said Lady Pcveril, " you were wont to be moderate in these sentiments — comparatively moderate, at least, and to love your own religion, without hating that of others." " What I was while in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity, it signifies not to recall," answered he. " I was then like to Gallio, who cared for none of these things. I doted on creature-com- forts—I clung to worldly honour and repute — my thoughts were earth- ward — or those I turned to Heaven were cold, formal, pharisaical meditations — I brought nothing to the altar save straw and stubble. Heaven saw need to chastise me in love — I was stripped of all that I clung to on earth — my worldly honour was torn from me — I went forth an exile from the home of my fathers, a deprived and desolate man — a baffled, and beaten, and dishonoured man. Put who shall find out the ways of Providence ? 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 of my child — let me save the eternal welfare of yours." Lady Pcveril was silent. They were now approaching the point re the avenue terminated in a communication with a public road, or rather pathway, running through an unenclosed 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 sin- cerely anxious to be in the open moo and avoided reply to Bridgenorth that she might make the more haste. Put as they a< hed the junction of the avenue and the public road, he laid his hand on her arm, and commanded rather than requested her to stop. She 1 ii4 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. obeyed. He pointed to a huge oak, of the largest size, which grew on the 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 without the avenue was so 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," he said, " when we last looked together on that tree ? I had ridden fron Lon- don, and brought with me a protection 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 reverend pro- tector — What am I now to any one ! " He pressed his hand on his brow, and groaned in agony of spirit. It was not in the Lady Peveril's nature to hear sorrow without an attempt at consolation. "Master Bridgenorth," she said, "I blame no man's creed, while 1 believe 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 Bridgenorth, sternly, " as the lightning which shattered yonder oak hath softened its trunk. No ; the seared wood is the fitter for the use of the workmen — the hardened and the dried- u p 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 laws — the infraction of human rights. The times demand lighters and avengers, and there will be no want of them." " I deny not the existence of much evil," said Lady Peveril, com- pelling herself to answer, and beginning at the same time to walk forward ; " and from hearsay, though not, I thank 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 — though I trust your thoughts go not that dreadful length — were at best a desperate alternative." " Sharp, but sure," replied Bridgenorth. "The blood of the Paschal lamb chased away the destroying angel — the sacrifices offered on the threshing-floor of Araunah, stayed the pestilence . Fire and sword are severe remedies, but they purge and purify." "Alas ! Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, "wise and moderate in your youth, can you have adopted in your advanced life the thoughts and language of those whom you yourself beheld drive themselves and the nation to the brink of ruin ?" " I know not what I then was — you know not what I now am," he replied, and suddenly broke off; for they even then came forth into the 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 aware that he was armed with a shor ; sword, a poniard, and pistols at his PEVERIL OF THE PEAK n - 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 gentlemen of his station in life. There seemed also something of more stern determination than usual in his air, which indeed had always heen rather sullen than affable; and ere she could repress the sentiment, she could not ! saving, ' : Master Bridgenojrth, you are indeed changed." " You see but the outward man," he replied ; " the change within is yet deepen But it was not of myself that I desired to talk — 1 have already said, that as you have preserved my child from the darkness of the grave, I would willingly preserve yours from that more utter darkness, which, I fear, hath involved the path and walks of his father." " I must not hear this of Sir Geoffrey," said the Lady Peveril ; " I must bid you farewell for the present ; and when we again meet at a more suitable time, I will at least listen to your advice concerning Julian, although 1 should not perhaps incline to it." '• That more suitable time may never come," replied Bridgenorth. '•'Time wanes, eternity draws nigh. Hearken ! It is said to be your purpose to send the young Julian to be bred up in yonder bloody island, under the hand of your kinswoman, that cruel murderess, by whom was done to death a man more worthy of vital existence than any that she can boast among her vaunted ancestry. These are cur- rent tidings— Are they true?" " I do not blame you, Master Bridgenorth, for thinking harshly of my cousin of Derby," said Lady Peveril ; ''nor do I altogether vindi- cate 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 accomplishments becoming his rank, along with the young Earl of Derby." '• Under the curse of God, and the blessing of the Pope or Rome," said Bridgenorth. "You, lady, so quicksighted in matters of earthly prudence, are you blind to the gigantic pace at which Rome is moving to regain this country, once the riche in her usur] tiara? The old are seduced by gold — the youth by pleasure -tic weak by flattery — cowards by fear — and the courageous by ambition. A thousand baits for each taste, and each bait concealing the same . '• I am well aware. Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, "that my kinswoman is a Catholic ;* but her son is educated in the Chun li ol England's principles, agreeably to the command of her dece, id." "Is it likely," answered Bridgenorth, "that she, who fears nol iod of the righteous, whether on tin field or scaffold, will regard the sanction ol her proi vhen her religion bid break it? Or, if she does, what shall your son be the better, if he n in the mire of his father? What are your Episcopal ten but mere Popery, save that ye have chosen a t< mporal tyrant lor your Pope, and substitute a n ish for that which your predecessors pronounced in Latin But why speal I ol th e th to one who hath i ideed, and eyes, yet cannot see, listen to, or n6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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 dis- position, 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 you farewell. " 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 o\ bloodshed 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 Bridgenorth," answered the. lady ; " what penalty can be exacted 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 wasted 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 bloods 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 bloodthirsty 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, " Forget 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 of 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 indistinctly on the summit of the rising ground behind her. She became also visible to them ; and one or two of the foremost made towards her at increased speed, challenging her as they advanced with the cry of " Stand ! "Who goes there ?" The foremost who came up, however, exclaimed, " Mercy on us, if it be not my lady ! " and Lady Peveril, at the same moment, recognised one of her own servants. Her hus- band rode up immediately afterwards, with, " How now, Dame Margaret ? What makes you abroad so far from home, and at an hour so late?" Lady Peveril mentioned her visit at the cottage, but did not think it necessary to say aught of having seen Major Bridgenorth ; afraid, perhaps, that her husband might be displeased with that incident. " Charity is a fine thing, and a fair," answered Sir Geoffrey ; " but I must tell you, you do ill, dame, to wander about the country like a quacksalver, at the call of every old woman who has a colic-lit ; and at this-,nime of night especially, and when the land is so unsettled besides." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. u? " I am sorry to hear that it is so," said the lady. " I had heard no such news.'' "•News ! " repeated Sir Geoffrey ; " why, here has a new plot broken cut among the Roundheads, 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 everywhere ; and I promise you, if he is found, he is like to pay old scores." •' Then I am sure, I trust he will not be found," said Lady Peveril. "Do you so?" replied Sir Geoffrey. "Now I, on my part, hope that he will ; and it shall not be my fault if he be not ; for which effect I will presently ride down to Moultrassie, and 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, who shall convey you safe home. The lady obeyed in silence ; indeed, she did not dare to trust her voice in an attempt to reply, so much was she disconcerted with the intelligence she had just heard. 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 great 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 purposed insurrection amongst the old Commonwealth men, especially those who had 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 warrants were recalled, but nothing more was seen or heard of Major Bridgenorth ; although it is probable he might safely enough have shown 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 \\ 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 i in manner, as well as ardent in the pursuit of more solid ac- quirements. In process of time he became a gallant and accom- plish -I youth, and travelled for some time upon the continent with the young EarL This was the more especially necessary for the irging of their acquaintance with the world ; because the Countess 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. n8 PEYERIL OF THE PEAK. This had given to the education of botli the young men, other- wise as excellent as the best teachers could render it, something of a narrow and restricted character ; but though the disposition of the young Earl was lighter and more volatile than that of Julian, both the one and the other had profited, in a considerable degree, by the opportunities afforded them. It was Lady Derby's strict in- junction to her son, now returning 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, par- taking 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 transgression of her authority, (for he continued to entertain for her the profound respect in which he had been educated,) Lord Derby 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 Martindale Castle a good deal of the time which his friend had bestowed in London ; and at the period to which, passing over many years, our story has arrived, as it were per sdlfurn, they were both living, as the Countess's guests, in the Castle of Rtishin, in the venerable kingdom of Mart. CHAPTER XL Mona — long hid from those who roam the main. Collins. The Isle of Man, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was very different, as a place of residence, from what it is now. Men had not then discovered its merit as a place of occasional refuge from the storms of life, and the society to be there met with was of a very uniform tenor. There were no smart fellows, whom fortune had tumbled from the seat of their barouches no plucked pigeons, or winged rooks — no disappointed speculators — no ruined miners — in short, no one worth talking to. The society of the island was limited to the natives themselves, and a few merchants, who lived by contra- band trade. The amusements were rare and monotonous, and the mercurial young Earl was soon heartily tired of his dominions. The islanders also, become too wise for happiness, had lost relish for the harmless and somewhat childish sports in which their simple ancestors had indulged themselves. May was no longer ushered in by the imaginary contest between the Queen of returning winter and advanc- ing spring ; the listeners no longer sympathized with the lively music of the followers of the one, or the discordant sounds with which the other asserted a more noisy claim to attention. Christmas, too, closed, and the steeples no longer jangled forth a dissonant peal. The wren, to seek for which used to be the sport dedicated to the holy tide, was PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 119 left unpursued and unslain. Party spirit had come among these simple people, and destroyed their good-humour, while it left them their ignorance. Even the races, a sport generally interesting to people of all ranks, were no longer performed, because they were no longer attractive. The gentlemen were divided by feuds hitherto unknown, and each seemed to hold it scorn to be pleased with the same diversions that amused those of the opposite faction. The hearts of both parties revolted from the recollection of former days, when all was peace among them, when the Earl of Derby, now slaughtered, used to bestow the prize, and Christian, since so vindic- tively executed, started horses to add to the amusement* Julian was seated in the deep recess which led to a latticed window of the old Castle ; and, with his arms crossed, and an air Of profound contemplation, was surveying the Ion pective ot ocean, which rolled its successive waves up to the foot of the rock on which the ancient pile is founded. The Earl was suffering under the infliction of ennui — now looking into a volume ot Homer— now whistling— now- swinging on his chair — now traversing the room — till, at length, attention became swallowed up in admiration of the tranquillity of his companion. "King of Men ! '"' he said, repeating the favourite epithet by which Homer describes Agamemnon,— '" I trust, for the old Greek's saki had a merrier office than being King of Man— Most philosophical Julian, will nothing rouse thee — not even a bad pun on my own royal dignity?" " I wish you would be a little more the King in Man," said Julian, starting from his reverie, " and then you would find more amusement in your dominions." " What ! dethrone that royal Semiramis my mother," said the young lord, "who has as much pleasure in playing Queen as if she were a Sovereign? — I wonder you can give me such counsel." " Your mother, as you well know, my dear Derby, would be delighted, did you take any interest in the affairs of the island." " Ay, truly, she would permit me to be King ; but she would choose to remain Viceroy over me. Why, she would only gain a subject the more, by my converting my spare time, which is so very valuabl me, to the cares of royalty. No, no, Julian, she thinks it power to direct all the affairs of these poor Manxmen ; and, thinking it power, she finds it pleasure. I shall not interfere, unless she hold a high court of justice again. I cannot afford to pay another fine to my ither, King Char] it I forget— this is a sore point with you." " With the Countess, at least," replied Julian ; "and I wonder you will speak of it." " Why, I bear no malice against the poor man's memory any more than yourself, though I have not the same reasons for holding it in ration," replied the Earl of Derbj ; "and yet I have some respect for it too. I remember their bringing him out to die — It was the first holiday 1 <-. in my life, and 1 heartily wish it had been on ! :il." •' I would rather hear you speak of any thing else, my lord," said Julian. ,20 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " Why, there it goes," answered the Earl ; "whenever I talk of any thing that puts you on your mettle, and warms your blood, that runs as cold as a merman's— to use a simile of this happy island— Hey pass ! you press me to change the subject. — Well, what shall we talk of? — O Julian, if you had not gone down to earth yourself among the castles and caverns of Derbyshire, we should have had enough of delicious topics — the playhouses, Julian — Both the King's house and the Duke's— Louis's establishment is a jest to them ;— and the Ring in the Park, which beats the Corso at Naples— and the beauties, who beat the whole world ! " " I am very willing to hear you speak on the subject, my lord," answered Julian ; " the less I have seen of the London world myself, the more I am likely to be amused by your account of it." " Ay, my friend— but where to begin ? — with the wit of Buckingham, and Sedley, and Etherege, or with the grace of Harry Jermyn — the courtesy of the Duke of Monmouth, or with the loveliness of La Belle Hamilton— of the Duchess of Richmond— of Lady , the person of Roxalana, the smart humour of Mrs. Nelly" " Or what say you to the bewitching sorceries of Lady Cynthia?" demanded his companion. "Faith, I would have kept these to myself," said the Earl, "to follow your prudent example. But since you ask me, I fairly own I cannot tell what to say of them ; only I think of them twenty times as often as all the beauties I have spoke of. And yet she is neither the twentieth part so beautiful as the plainest of these Court beauties, nor so witty as the dullest I have named, nor so modish — that is the great matter — as the most obscure. I cannot tell what makes me dote on her, except that she is as capricious as her whole sex put together." " That 1 should think a small recommendation," answered his com- panion. " Small, do you term it," replied the Earl, " and write yourself a brother of the angle? Why, which like you best? to pull a dead strain on a miserable gudgeon, which you draw ashore by main force, as the fellows here tow in their fishing-boats— or a lively salmon, that makes your rod crack, and your line whistle — plays you ten thousand mischievous pranks — wearies your heart out with hopes and fears — and is only laid panting on the bank, after you have shown the most unmatchable display of skill, patience, and dexterity ? — But I see you have a mind to go on angling after your own old fashion. Off laced coat, and on brown jerkin ; — 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." " You have learned to say all these smart things in London, my lord," answered Julian ; " but we shall have you a penitent for them, if Lady Cynthia be of my mind. Adieu, and pleasure till we meet.'' The young 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 PE\-ERIL OF THE PEAK. 121 cloak and doublet for a simple jacket of the same colour, with hose conforming ; and finally, with rod in hand, and pannier at his back, mounted upon a handsome Manx pony, 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 commence his day's sport, Julian let his little steed graze, which, accustomed to the situatii n, followed him like a dog ; and now and then, when tired of picking herbage in the valley through which the stream winded, came near her master's side, 'and, as if she had been a curious amateur of the sport, gazed on the trouts as Julian brought them struggling to the shore. But Fairy's master showed, on that clay, little of the patience of a real angler, and took no heed to old Isaac Walton's recommendation, to fish the streams inch by inch. He chose, indeed, with an angler's eye, the most promising 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 selection of sports whereon to employ his art, the sportsman's basket was soon sufficiently heavy, to show that his occupation was not a mere pretext ; and so soon as this was the case, he walked briskly up the glen, only making a cast from time to time, in case of his being observed 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 was not altogether void of inhabitants. 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 close to the brook, was entirely covered with rich herbage, 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 culti- vated 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 huge heathy hill, which, rising behind the building, appeared to be the boundary of the valley, and to afford the source of the brook. But the original structure had been long demolished, as, indeed, it probably only consisted of dry stones, and its materials had been applied to the construction of the present mansion — 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, wlm h pi cted from the front oftheho id exhibited on their surfa< little niches for images, 'lip 6 had 1 i carefully destroyed, ami p 1 i and flowers were placed in the niches in their stead, besides their being ornamented bj creep- ing plants of various kind;, fancifully twined around them. The n wa . al in good order; and though the spot was c\ solitary, there was about it altogether an air of comfort, accoinmoda- legance, by no means gi n rally characteristic oi th 1 id at the time. With much circumspection, Julian Peveril d the low 122 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Gothic porch, which defended the entrance of the mansion from the tempests incident to its situation, and was, like the buttresses, over-run 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 himself, 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 little low- arched hall, the upper end of which was occupied by a staircase, and turning to the left opened the door of a summer parlour, wainscoted with black oak, and very simply furnished with chairs and tables of the same materials ; the former cushioned with leather. The apart- ment was. gloomy — one of those stone-shafted windows which we have mentioned, with its small latticed panes, and thick garland of foliage, admitting but an imperfect light. Over the chimneypiece (which was of the same massive materials with the panelling of the apartment) was the only ornament of the room ; a painting, namely, representing an officer in the military dress of the Civil Wars. It was a green jerkin, then the national and peculiar wear of the Manxmen ; his short band which hung down on the cuirass — the 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 held a small Bible, bearing the inscription, " In hoc signo." The countenance was of a light complexion, with fair and almost effeminate blue eyes, and an oval form of face — one of those physio- gnomies, to which, though not otherwise unpleasing, we naturally attach the idea of melancholy and of misfortune.* Apparently it was well known to Julian Peveril ; for, after having looked at it for a long time, he could not forbear muttering aloud, " What would I give that that man had never been born, or that he still lived ! " " How now — how is this ?" said a female, who entered the room as he uttered this reflection. " You here, Master Peveril, in spite of all the warnings you have had ! You here, in the possession of folk's house when they are abroad, and talking to yourself, as I shall (variant ! " " Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril, " I 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 Deborah, for it was that respect- able governante ; and sinking down at the same time upon one of the large leathern chairs, she began to fan herself with her handkerchief, and complain of the heat in a most ladylike fashion. In fact, Mistress Debbitch, while her exterior intimated a consider- able change of condition for the better, and her countenance showed 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 Ellesmcre at Martindale PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 123 Castle. In a word, she was self-willed, obstinate, and coquettish 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 colours, it was plain she belonged to some sect which condemned superfluous gaiety in attire ; but no rules, not those of a nunnery or of a quaker's society, can prevent a little coquetry in that particular, where a woman is desirous of being supposed to retain some claim to personal attention. All Mistress arfhents 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 entitled, 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 i; prinked herself and pinned herself" — flung her hoods back, and drawn them forward — snuffed 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 ininauderies, she condescended to open the conversation. " These walks will be the death of me," she said, " and all on your account, Master Julian Peveril ; for if Dame Christian should learn that you have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you Mistress /Mice would be soon obliged to find other quarters, and so should I." 'Come now, Mistress Deborah, be good-humoured," said Julian ; " consider, was not all this intimacy of ours of your own making? Did you not make yourself known to me the very first time I strolled up this glen with my fishing-rod, and tell me that you were my former keeper, and that Alice had been my little playfellow ? And what could there be more natural, than that I should come back and see two such ble persons as often as I could ?" " Yes," said Dame Deborah ; " but I did not bid 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," answered the youth ; " but what of that ? Such things will come out before one is awai . I am sure you must have heard such proposals fifty times when you least cted them." " Fie, fie, fie, Master Julian Peveril," said the govcrnantc ; " I would have you to know that I have always so behaved myself, that the best of tl would have thought twice of it, and have very well con- sidered both what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it, came out with such proposals to me." "True, true, Mistress Deborah," continued Julian; "but all the 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. ( ome, 1 know you will forgi\ e me. Thou wert ever the best- riatured, kindest woman in the world ; and you know you have said nty times we were 1 r each other." "O no. Master Julian Peveril; no, no, no!" ejaculated Deborah. " I may indeed have said your cst.i born to be united ; and to 124 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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 mother ; and there is her father, that is half crazy with his religion ; and her aunt, that wears eternal black grogram for that un- lucky Colonel Christian ; and there is the Countess of Derby, that would serve us all with the same sauce if we were thinking of anything 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 /.lice put it into my head ; but I am so good- natured.'' No flattei'er like a lover, who wishes to carry his 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 humorous affectation of gallantry, on the fat finger of Mistress Deborah Deb- bitch. Hers 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, acces- sible to bribes or corruption, are nevertheless much attached to perqui- sites, 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 any thing to such a young gentle- man as you, for young gentlemen are always so obstinate ! and so I may as well tell you, that Mistress Alice walked 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 I tell you so now, Master Julian," said Dame Deborah ; " for, I promise you, it is against her express com- mands ; and I would not have told you, had you not looked so pitiful ; — but asfor seeing you, that she will not — and she is in her ownbedroom, 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 ittle 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. " 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 hoard key turned, and bolts shot, ere I could say a single word to stop her — I marvel you heard her not." " It was because I am, as I ever was, an owl — a dreaming fool, who YEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 125 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 wil) 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 I will be sworn she likes you better than she says, and 1 know she used to sit and look the way that you used to come iip the stream, and now and then ask me if the morning were 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 two beautiful long letters about foreign parts." " Friendship, Dame Deborah— only friendship— cold and calm re- membrance of one who, by your kind permission, stole in on your solitude now and then, with news from the living world without. — Once, indeed, I thought— but it is all over— farewell." 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 at'thction. " Now, do not be in such haste," she said ; " I 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 intercession ; and she remained long enough absent to give us time to explain, in a short retrospect, the circumstances which had led to his present situation. CHAPTER XII. Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth ! Midsummer Night's Dream. The celebrated pa^sa^e which we have prefixed to this chapter, has, like most observations of the same author, its foundation in real i ience. The period at which love is formed fur the first time, and felt most strongly, is seldom that at which there is much prospect of its ht t<> a happy issue. The state of artificial society opposes many complicated obstructions to early marriages ; and the chance is that such obstacles prove insurmountable. In fine, there are few men who do not look back in secret to some p riod of their youth, at which a sincere and early affection was repulsed, or lyed, or became abortive from opposing circumstances. Itist! little passages of secret history, which leave a tinge oi 1 ance in om, scarce permitting us, even in the most busy or the most advancedpei life, to listen with total indifi 1 to a tale of true love. 126 PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. Julian Peveril had so fixed his affections, as to ensure the fullest share of that opposition which early attachments are so apt to en- " counter. Yet nothing so natural as that he should have done so. In early youth, Dame Debbitch had accidentally met with the son of her first patroness, and who had himself been her earliest charge, fishing in the little brook already noticed, which watered the valley in which she resided with Alice Bridgenorth. The dame's curiosity easily dis- covered who he was ; and besides the interest which persons in her condition usually take in the young persons who have been under their charge, she was delighted with the opportunity to talk about fqrmer times — about Martindale Castle, and friends there — about Sir Geoffrey and his good lady — and now and then, about Lance Outram the park- keeper. The mere pleasure of gratifying her inquiries, would scarce have had power enough to induce Julian to repeat his visits to the lonely glen ; but Deborah had a companion — a lovely girl — bred in solitude, and in the quiet and unpretending tastes which solitude encourages — spirited also and inquisitive, and listening, with a laughing cheek and an eager eye, to every tale which the young angler brought from the town and castle. The visits of Julian to the Black Fort were only occasional — so far Dame Deborah showed common sense — which was, perhaps, inspired by the apprehension of losing her place, in case of discovery. She had, indeed, great confidence in the strong and rooted belief — amounting almost to superstition — which Major Bridgenorth entertained, that his daughter's continued health could only be ensured by her continuing under the charge of one who had acquired Lady Peveril's supposed skill in treating those subject to such ailments. This belief Dame Deborah had improved to the utmost of her simple cunning, — always speaking in something of an oracular tone, upon the subject of her charge's health, and hinting at certain mysterious 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 resolution, that his daughter and her governante should remain under the same roof with the sister-in-law of his deceased wife, the widow of the unfor- tunate Colonel Christian. But this lady was broken down with pre- mature 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 daughter. Dame Deborah, who longed for domestic independence, was careful to increase this impression by alarming her 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, as she was assured, there was ice and snow at midsummer. In short, she prevailed, and was put into full possession of the 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 governante and her charge, to visit Kirk-Truagh from time to time, and to consider themselves as under the management and guardianship of Mistress Christian — a state PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 127 of subjection, the sense of which Deborah endeavoured to lessen, by assuming as much freedom of conduct as she possibly dared, under the influence, doubtless, of the same feelings of independence, which induced her, at Martindale-Hall, 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 - tern genius of puritanism would have proscribed. She ventured to have her charge taught music — nay, even dancing ; and the picture of the austere Colonel Christian trembled on the wainscot where it was suspended, while the sylphlike form of Alice, and the substantial person of 1 lame Deborah, executed French chausstes and borces, to the sound of a small kit, which screamed under the bow of Monsieur de Pigal, half smuggler, hall dancing-master. This abomination reached the ears of the Colonel's widow, and by her was communicated 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 her stronghold. " Dancing," she said, " was exercise, regulated and timed by music ; and it stood to reason, that it must be the best of all exercise for a delicate person, especially as it could be taken within doors, and in all states of the weather." Bridgenorth listened, with a clouded and thoughtful brow, when, in exemplification of her doctrine. Mistress Deborah, who was no con- temptible performer on the viol, began to jangle Sellenger's Round, and desired Alice to dance an old English measure to the tune. As the half-bashful, half-smiling girl, about fourteen — for such was her a 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, h I her in his arms, smoothed her somewhat disordered locks with a father's affectionate hand, smiled, kissed her brow, and took In without one s : : word farther interdicting the exercise of dancing. I [e did not himself communicate the result of his visit at the Black Fort to Mistress Chris tian, but she was not long of learning it, by the triumph of D 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 dam You have only now to find her a partner for life — I shall neither meddle nor make more in their afTai In fact, the triumph of Dame Deborah, or rather of Dame on this occasion, had more important effei 1 than the former had ven- I to anticipate ; for Mistress Christian, tho red with all formality the formal visits of the charge, seemed thenceforth so pettish with the issue of 1 ranee, upon the enormity of her niece dancing to a little fiddle, thai she appealed to give up interference in her affairs, and left Dai 1 iiti h and Alice to manage both ( mandhousel ; in which she had hitherto greatly coni 1 rni d herself — much after their own pL ure. It was in tins independent state that they lived, when Julian first visited their habitation ; and he was the rather encouraged to do so 128 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. by Dame Deborah, that she believed him to be one of the last person in the world with whom Mistress Christian would have desired her niece 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 or curiosity on the part of Mistress Christian, but 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 clays. Dame Debbitch, therefore, exacted of Julian, that his visits should be few and far between ; that he should condescend to pass for a relation of her own, in the eyes of two ignorant Manx girls and a lad, who formed her establishment ; and that he should always appear in his angler's dress made of the sivapleZ.ougt&an, or buff-coloured wool of the island, which is not subjected to dyeing. By these cautions, she thought his intimacy at the Black Fort would be entirely unnoticed, or considered as immaterial, while, in the meantime, it furnished much amusement to her charge and herself. This was accordingly the case during the earlier part of their inter- course, 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 clanger in their con- tinued intimacy. She took an opportunity to communicate to Julian who Miss Bridgenorth actually 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 occa- sionally at Martindale Castle, and the subject of Bridgenorth's quarrel with his father had never been mentioned in his presence. His imagination caught fire at the sparks afforded by this singular story ; and, far from complying with the prudent remonstrance of Dame Deborah, and gradually estranging himself from the Black Fort and its fair inmate, he frankly declared, he considered his intimacy 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 recall 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 consequences of her com- munication, which had thus blown into a flame the passion which she hoped it would have either prevented or extinguished. She had not the sort of head which resists the masculine and energetic remon- strances of passionate attachment, whether addressed to her on her own account, or on behalf of another. She lamented and wondered, and ended her feeble opposition, by weeping, and sympathizing, and con- senting to allow the continuance of Julian's visits, provided he should only address himself to Alice as a friend ; to gain the world, she would consent to nothing more. She was not, however, so simple, but that she also had her forebodings of the designs of Providence on this youth- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. I2g fill couple ; for certainly they could not be more formed to be united than the good estates of Martindale and Moultrassie. Then came a long sequence of reflections. Martindale Castle wanted but some repairs to be almost equal to Chatsworth. The Hall might be allowed to go to ruin ; or, what would be better, when Sir Geoffrey's time came, (for the good knight had seen service, and must be breaking now,) the Hall would be a good dowery-house, to which my lady and Ellesmere might retreat ; while (empress of the still-room, and queen of the pantry) Mistress Deborah Uebbitch should reign housekeeper at the Castle, and extend, perhaps, the crown-matrimonial to Lance Outram, provided 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 angler became more and more frequent ; and the embarrassed Deborah, though foreseeing all the dangers of dis- covery, and the additional risk of an explanation betwixt Alice and Julian, which must necessarily 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. The departure of Julian for the continent interrupted 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 constitutional 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 remedy. It had complete effect ; and next day the checks 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 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 trust from a man of Major Bridge- north's reserved and cautious disposition, gave full plumage to Mistress Deborah's hopes ; and emboldened her not only to deliver another letter of Julian's to the young lady, but to encourage more boldly and freely than formerly the intercourse 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 person so young and beautiful as Alice, might not only betray prematurely the secret of his attach- ment, but be of essential prejudice to her who was its object. Under the influence of this conviction, he abstained, for an unusual K 130 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. period, from visiting the Black Fort. ' But when he next indulged him- self 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 seemed to upbraid his neglect, penetrated his heart, and deprived him of that power of self-command, which he had hitherto exercised in their interviews. It required 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 discord 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," cried Julian, eagerly. " That I hold this language— that the son of Peveril addresses thus the daughter of your father— that he thus kneels to you for forgiveness of injuries which passed when we were both infants, shows 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 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 slightest approach to impropriety in a situation like hers. " Rise, rise, Master Peveril," she said ; " do not do yourself and me this injustice — we have both done wrong — very wrong ; but my fault was done in ignorance. O God ! my poor father, who needs comfort so much— is it forme to add to his misfortunes ?— 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," she said, 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 wakening is arrived." Peveril waited the prose- cution of her speech as a criminal while he waits his doom ; for he was sufficiently sensible that an answer, delivered not certainly without emotion, but with firmness and resolution, 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 ever have seen each other ! " " Forget ! " said Julian ; " never, never. To you it is easy to speak PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 131 the word — to think the thought. To me, an approach to either can only be by utter destruction. Why should you doubt that the feud of our fathers, like so many of which we have heard, might be appeased by our friendship ? You are my only friend. I am the only one whom Heaven has assigned to you. Why should we separate for the fault of others, which befell 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, the most of the two ; for you will go forth to new scenes and new faces, and will soon forget me ; but I, remaining in this solitude, how shall /forget — that, how- ever, is not now the question — 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 — I 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 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?" 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 me what I would do were impossibilities performed. What right have you to make such suppositions, and ask such a question ?" "Hope, Alice, Hope," answered Julian, "the last support of the wretched, which even you surely would not be cruel enough to deprive me of. In every difficulty, 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 the name 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 a sadder tone, " Yes, Julian, I would refer you to my father ; and you would find that your pilot, Hope, had deceived you ; and that you had but escaped the quicksands to fall upon the rocks." " I would that could be tried ! " said Julian. " Methinks I could persuade your father that in ordinary eyes our alliance is not un- desirable. My family have fortune, rank, long descent — all that fathers look for when they bestow a daughter's hand." "All this would avail you 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." "You know not — you know not, Alice," said Julian. "Fire can soften iron — thy father's heart cannot be so hard, or hi > 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. But if you will be wise, and listen to me — Here, and on this spot, we part for ever ! " " Not so, by Heaven ! " said Julian, whose bold and sanguine temper scarce saw difficulty in attaining aught which he desired. " We now K. a i 3 2 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. part indeed, but it is that I may return armed with my parents' consent. They desire that I should marry — in their last letters they pressed it more openly — they shall have their desire ; 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 for ever ! " Julian, within a week of this interview, was at Martindale Castle, with the view of communicating his purpose. But the task which seems easy at a distance, proves as difficult upon a nearer approach, as the fording of a river, which from afar appeared only a brook. There lacked not opportunities of entering 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 fortune, 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 con- tent 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 shamb- ling 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." "Was that so great a fault?" said Julian, affecting indifference, while his heart was trembling, as it seemed to him, almost in his very throat. " It used to remind me of that base, dishonourable Presbyterian fellow, Bridgenorth," said Sir Geoffrey ; "and I would as lief think of a toad : — they say he has turned Independent, to accomplish 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 nursing and cherishing petty causes of wrath against their next neighbours. In the course of the same day, he mentioned the Bridgenorths to his mother, as if in a casual manner. But the Lady Peveril instantly con- jured him never to mention the name, esperially in his father's pre- sence. " 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 allusion to him disturbs Sir Geoffrey's temper in a manner quite un- usual, and which, now that his health is somewhat impaired, is some- times 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." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 133 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 hapened, by requesting an interview with Alice, in order to in- form her what had passed betwixt his parents and him on her account. It was with great difficulty that this boon was obtained ; and Alice Bridgenorth showed no slight degree of displeasure, when she dis- covered, after much circumlocution, and many efforts to give an air of importance 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 Bridgenorth, which Julian would fain have represented as an omen of their future 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 the Black Fort ; and I 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 foi another place of residence, and perhaps also for another and 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 entertaining 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 with 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 the slaughtered 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 were dissipated. CHAPTER XIII. Parents have flinty hearts ! No tears can move them. Otway. When Alice Bridgenorth at length entered 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 atten- tion to form, which at once enhanced the appearance of its puritanic simplicity, and struck Julian as a bad omen; for although the time 134 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. bestowed upon the toilet may, in many cases, intimate the wish to appear advantageously at such an interview, yet a ceremonious arrange- ment of attire is very much allied with formality, and a preconceived determination to treat a lover with cold politeness. The sad-coloured gown — the pinched and plaited cap, which care- fully obscured the profusion of long dark-brown hair — the small ruff, and the long sleeves, would have appeared to great disadvantage on a shape less graceful than Alice Bridgenorth's ; but an exquisite form, though not, as yet, sufficiently rounded in the outlines to produce the perfection of female beauty, was able to sustain and give grace even to this unbecoming dress. Her countenance, fair and delicate, with eyes of hazel, and a brow of alabaster, had, notwithstanding, 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 fascinating in her manners and expression, 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 attending his intercourse with Alice, should prefer the recluse 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 disconcerted by a slightly tremulous in- flection 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, I may fear, of my character — you abuse the influence you possess over the simple person to whom I am intrusted — All this you do, and think to make it up by low reverences and constrained courtesy ! Is this honourable, or is it fair? — Is it," she 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 were 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 pro- tection — no wish, Heaven knows, to expose you to danger — It is your visits here alone to which danger attaches. You have but to rule your own wilful temper — to turn your thoughts and your cares elsewhere, 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 — PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 135 and let me, once more, in fair terms, entreat you to absent yourself from this place — till — till" She paused, and Julian eagerly interrupted her. — " Till when, Alice ? — till when ? — 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 counte- nance, 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 ignorance, and you shall have no reason to call me unkind. But while you form schemes which I know to be visionary, and use language of such violence and passion, 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 father, that he may fix me another place of residence ; and in the meanwhile I will take shelter with my aunt at Kirk-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 were happy when we spoke not on such topics — well — at all expense 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 I cannot offend ; Deborah shall be ever by your side, and her presence shall prevent my even hinting at what might displease you — 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 ecstasy of passion, Julian," answered Alice Bridge- north ; " that which is unpleasant, our selfish and stubborn will repre- sents as impossible. I have no confidence in the plan you propose — no confidence in your resolution, and less than none in the protection of Deborah. Till you can renounce, honestly and explicitly, the wishes you have lately expressed, we must be strangers ; — and could you renounce them even at this moment, it were better that we should part for a long time ; and, for Heaven's sake, let it be as soon as pos- sible—perhaps it is even now too late to prevent some unpleasant accident — I thought I heard a noise." " It was Deborah," answered Julian. " Be not afraid, Alice ; we arc secure against surprise." " I know not," said Alice, "what you m< an by such security— I itf PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. l o 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." " And wherefore, Alice, since you say it must be our last ? Why should you shake the sand which is passing so fast ? the very execu- j tioner 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 1 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. " You yourself build wild hopes in the air, and accuse me of destroying what had never any earthly foundation. Spare your- self, Julian — spare me — and in mercy to us both, depart, and return not again till you can be more reasonable." " 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 con- struction on my silence and my confusion." " You do not say so, then ? " answered Julian ; " and if all other obstacles were removed, I should find one in the cold flinty bosom of her, who repays the most devoted and sincere affection with contempt and dislike ? — Is that," he added, in a deep tone of feeling — " is that what Alice Bridgenorth says to Julian Peveril?" " Indeed — indeed, Julian," said the almost weeping girl, " I do not say so — I say nothing, and I ought not to say anything 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 lessen me in my own eyes ? to own affection for one from whom fate has separated me for ever? It is ungenerous— it is cruel — it is seeking a momentary and selfish 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 deprecating my urgency, and I will press you no farther. 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. You dared not to 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. Major Bridgenorth, by my mother's account, is a worthy and an estimable man. I will remind him, that to my mother's care he owes the dearest treasure and comfort of his life ; and I will ask him if it is a just 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 uncertainty as to my dear father's residence. How often has it been my earnest request to PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. i :7 him that he would let me share his solitary abode, or his obscure wanderings ! But the short and infrequent visits which he makes to this house are all that he permits me of his society. Something I might surely do, however little, to alleviate the melancholy by which he is oppressed.'' " Something we might both do," said Peveril. " How willingly would I 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 Englishman — 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 I 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 enter- taining a suit so likely to add 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 — raised his flapp'd and steeple-crowned hat from his brows, and, standing in the midst of the room, eyed alternately his daughter and Julian Peveril with a fixed and penetrating glance. "Father!" said Alice, utterly astonished, and terrified besides, by his sudden appearance at such a conjuncture, — " Father, I am not to blame." " Of that anon, Alice," said Bridgenorth ; " meantime 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 fortune, 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 earnestness of her supplication. " Dost thou know aught, maiden, which should inflame my anger against this young man, more than reason or religion may bridle ? Go— go to thy chamber. Com- pose 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 garment was visible at the closing door ; then turned his looks to Major Bridgenorth, and then sunk them on the ground. # i 3 8 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. The Major continued to regard him in profound silence ; his looks were melancholy and even austere : but there was nothing which indi- cated 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 I at least conjectured, from the few expres- sions which I chanced to overhear ; for I made bold, though it may be contrary 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 enter- tained so young a woman as Alice, in a private interview." " I 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 gentleman, whom, though unknown, I am bound to respect so highly." " On the contrary," said Bridgenorth, with the same formal gravity, " I am pleased to find that your business is, or appears to be, with me, rather than with my daughter. I only think you had done better to have intrusted it to me in the first instance, as my sole concern." The utmost sharpness of attention which Julian applied, could not discover if Bridgenorth spoke seriously or ironically 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 reply in the same tone with Bridgenorth's observation, he said, that not having the advantage to know his place of residence, he had applied for information 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 clown ; " I have been known to your daughter for many years ; and what I wished to say, respects both her happiness and my own." '■ I must understand you," said Bridgenorth, "even as carnal men understand each other on the matters of this world. You are attached to my daughter by the cords of love ; I have long known this." " You, Master Bridgenorth ? " exclaimed Peveril — " Yon have long known it ? " " Yes, young man. Think you, that as the father of an only child, I could have suffered Alice Bridgenorth — the only living pledge of her who is now an angel in Heaven — to have remained in this seclusion without the surest knowledge of all her material actions ? I have, in person, seen more, both of her and of you, than you could be aware of ; and when absent 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 subtilty ; 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 joyfully, " if you have known this intercourse so long, may 1 not hope that it has not met your disapprobation?" The Major paused for an instant, and then answered, " In some PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 139 respects, certainly not. Had it done so— had there seemed aught on your side, or on my daughter's, to have rendered your visits here dangerous 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 betwixt you — peace and harmony shall once more inhabit 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 architect of plans and hopes fantastic as the visions of the night. It is a great thing you ask of me ; — the hand of my only child — the sum 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 offered, or what have you to offer, in return of the surrender you require of me?" " I am but too sensible," said Pcveril, abashed at his own hasty con- clusions, "how difficult it may be." " Nay, but interrupt me not," replied Bridgenorth, "till I show you the amount of what you offer me in exchange for a boon, which, what- ever may be its intrinsic value, is earnestly desired by you, and com- prehends all that is valuable on earth which I have it in my power to bestow. — You may have heard, that in the late times I 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 prosperity, I was neither unwilling, nor altogether unable, to show myself such. Well, the tables are turned — the times arc 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 murderess, bearing on her hand the blood of my near con- nexion, and I had, in such a case, a right to call on every liege subject to render assistance to the execution. My late friendly neighbour, bound, as a man and a magistrate, to give ready assistance 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 wave-surrounded rocks, and remains there till gold, duly administered at Court, wipes out all memory of her crime, and baffles the vengeance due to the memory of the best 140 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. and bravest of men. — But," he added, apostrophizing the portrait of Christian, "thou art not yet forgotten, my fair-haired William ! The vengeance which dogs thy murderers is slow, — but it is sure ! " 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 interrupt. Accordingly, in a few minutes, the latter proceeded. — " These things," he said, " I recall not in bitterness, so far as they are personal to me — I recall them not in spite of heart, though they have been the means of banishing me from my place of residence, where my fathers dwelt, and where my earthly comforts lie interred. But the public cause sets farther strife betwixt your father and me. Who so active as he to execute the fatal edict of black St. Bartholo- mew'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 devoted 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 Geoffrey Peveril's — • it was your father's ! —What 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 open for reconciliation." " Peace, young man," said Bridgenorth, " thou speakest 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 to 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 way to his own impetuosity, and resumed the discourse in a milder tone. "These things I point out to you, Julian, that I may show you how impossible, in the eyes of a merely worldly man, would be the union which you are desirous of. But Heaven hath at times opened a door, where man beholds no means of issue. Julian, your mother, for one to whom the truth 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, 1 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 141 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 straightening of the common path, and the advantage of the public. I have, therefore, no resent- ment against the humbled House of Peveril — nay, I have regard to it in its depression." He here made a second pause, as if he expected Julian to say something. But notwithstanding the ardour 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 better habit of respect for his parents, to hear, without displeasure, some part of Bridgenorth's dis- course. " The House of Peveril," he replied " was never humbled." " Had you said the sons 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-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 the old pedigree that deduces your descent from kings and conquerors. A scurril or obscene jest, an impudent carriage, a laced cloak, a hand- ful of gold, and the readiness to wager it on a card, or a die, will better advance you at the Court of Charles, than your father's ancient name, and slavish devotion of blood and fortune to the cause of his father." "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 people, care for their comforts, decide their differences" " Build Maypoles, 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 serve his unhappy country. There are mighty designs afloat, and men arc 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 un- watched ; the true English hearts are as thousands, which wait but a il 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. " Know- ing 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 propagated at home." "Else, wherefore do I speak to thee friendly and so free?" said Bridgenorth. " Do I not know, with what readiness of early wit you baffled the wily attempts of the woman's priest, to seduce thee from the Protestant faith ? Do I not know, how thou wast beset when abroad, and that thou didst both hold thine own faith, and secure the 142 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 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 quicken ? — Enough, however, of this. For to-day this is thy habitation. I will see in thee neither the servant of that daughter of Eshbaal, 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 without 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 whatever 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 an 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 trouble. " 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 mine own by this time." "Peace, idiot ! " said Bridgenorth ; but so intent was Deborah on her vindication, that he could but thrust the interjection, as it were edgewise, between her exclamations, which followed as thick as is usual in cases where folk endeavour to avert deserved censure by a clamorous justification ere the charge be brought. " No wonder she was cheated," she said, " out of sight of her own interest, when it was to wait on pretty Miss Alice. All your honour's gold should never have tempted me, but that I knew she was but a dead castaway, 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 your 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 gentleman's visits to the Black Fort, and that, ; PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. i^ 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 improbable—" 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 presumed to lend it a hand forward ? I trust I know my duty better. Hear if I ever asked another youngster into the house, save himself— for I knew your honour 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 Bridgenorth, his patience almost completely exhausted ; " or, if you will prate, let it be to your playfellows in the kitchen, and bid them get ready 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 clap 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 conceived 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 under- standing." So saying, he left the house, accompanied by Julian Peveril, and they were soon walking side by side, as if they had been old acquaint- ances. It may have happened to many of our readers, as it has done to ourselves, to be thrown by accident into 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 time in a very stiff and constrained man- ner ; while, on the other hand, our destined companion may have apprehended some disgust from the supposed levity and thoughtless gaiety of a disposition so different from his own. Now it has fre- quently happened, that when we, with that urbanity and good-humour which is our principal characteristic, have accommodated oursclf to 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 probable both parties may, on such occasions, have been the better for their encounter, even if it went no farther than to establish for the time a community of feeling between men, who, separated more perhaps by temper than by principle, arc too apt to charge each other with profane frivolity on the one hand, or fanaticism on the other. i 4 4 PEVERTL OF THE PEAK. It fared thus in Peveril's walk with Bridgenorth, and in the conver* sation which he held with him. Carefully avoiding the subject on which he had already spoken, Major Bridgenorth turned his conversation chiefly on foreign travel, and on the wonders he had seen in distant countries, and which he appeared 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 contained traits of interest and of wonder, such as are usually captivating to a youthful ear, and were particularly 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 Huguenots, who already began to sustain those vexations which a few years afterwards were summed up by the revocation of the Edict of Nantz. He had even been in Hun- gary, for he spoke as from personal knowledge 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 submit 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 pro- tection which Oliver had afforded to the oppressed Protestant churches ; " therein showing himself," he added, " more fit to wield the supreme power, than those who, claiming it bv right of inherit- ance, 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 Bridgenorth." " I did not panegyrise him," answered Bridgenorth j " I speak but truth of that extraordinary man, now being dead, whom, when alive, I feared not to withstand to his face. It is the fault of the present unhappy 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 controllers — to spend the money which she doles out to themselves, than to check the tyranny with which she oppresses our poor brethren of the reli- gion. When th@ scales shall fall from thine eyes, all this thou shalt see ; and seeing, shalt learn to detest and despise it." By this time they had completed their walk, and were returned to the 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 Peveril 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 inconsistency, per- haps a little affectation. Most of the dishes were of silver, and the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, 145 plates were of the same metai ; instead of the trenchers and pewter which Peveril had usually seen employed on similar occasions at the Black Fort. Presently, with the feeling of one who walks in a pleasant dream from which he fears to awake, and whose delight is mingled with wonder and with uncertainty, Julian Peveril found himself seated be- tween Alice Bridgenorth and her father — the being he most loved on earth, and the person whom he had ever considered 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 them at table in her quality of governante, now dispensed the good things which had been prepared under her own eye. As for Alice, she seemed to have formed a resolution to play the mute ; for she answered not, excepting briefly, to the questions of Dame Debbitch ; nay, even when her father, which happened once or twice, attempted to bring her forward in the conversation, she made no farther 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 expressions indicative of natural and habitual melancholy, or prophetic of future misfortune and woe. Flashes of enthusiasm, too, shot along his conversation, gleaming like the sheet-lightning of an autumn eve, which throws a strong, though momentary illumination, across the sober twilight, and all the surrounding objects, which, touched by it, assume a wilder and more striking character. In general, however, Bridgcnorth's remarks were plain and sensible ; and as he aimed at no graces of language, any ornament which they received arose out of the interest with which they were impressed on his hearers. For example, when Deborah, in the pride and vulgarity of her heart, called Julian's attention to the plate from which they had been eating, Bridgenorth seemed to think an apology necessary for such superfluous expense. " It was a symptom," he said, " of approaching danger, when such men, as were not usually influenced by the vanities of life, employed much money in ornaments 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 invested in this inert form. It was a proof that the noblemen 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 preferred the actual possession of a mass of silver to the convenience of a goldsmith's or a banker's receipt. While a shadow of liberty remained," he said, " domestic rights were last invaded ; and, therefore, men 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 tyrannical government. But let there be a demand for capital to support a profitable com- merce, and the mass is at once consigned to the furnace, and, ceasing to be a vain and cumbrous ornament of the banquet, becomes a L l 4 6 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. potent and active agent for furthering the prosperity of the country." "In war, too," said Peveril, " plate has been found a ready re- source." " 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 referred to a previous part of Bridgenorth's discourse, and was not returned till after a brief pause. " War, then," he said, " war, the grand impoverisher, 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 finally 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 energies which could not otherwise have existed in society." " Men should go to war, then," said Peveril, " that they may send their silver-plate to the mint, and eat from pewter dishes and wooden platters ? " " Not so, my son," said Bridgenorth. Then checking himself as he observed the deep crimson on Julian's cheek and brow, he added, " I crave your pardon for such familiarity ; but I 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 circulation the miser's hoard and the proud man's bullion, and so add to the cir- culating wealth of the country, do also call into action many a brave and noble spirit, which would otherwise lie torpid, give an example to the living, and bequeath no name to future ages. Society knows not, and cannot know, the mental treasures which slumber in her bosom, till necessity and opportunity call forth the statesman and the soldier from the shades of lowly life to the parts they are designed by Provi- dence to perform, and the stations 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 summons forth and displays the address of the mariner." " You speak," said Peveril, "as if national calamity might be, in some sort, an advantage." " And if it were not so," replied Bridgenorth, " it had not existed in this state of trial, where all temporal 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 147 energies of a great mind awakened into energy, and to see it assume the authority which is its due over spirits more meanly endowed." " I once witnessed," said Bridgenorth, ; ' something to the same effect ; and as the tale is brief, I will tell it you, if you will : — " Amongst my wanderings, the Transatlantic settlements 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 best and most godly men — such whose righteousness might come between the Almighty and his wrath, and prevent the ruin of cities — are content to be the inhabit- ants of the desert, rather encountering the unenlightened 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 main- tained a destructive and desultory warfare, inflicted many dreadful calamities on the settlement. I was, by chance, at a small village in the woods, more than 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 trusted 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 do with a foe, whom the devil himself had inspired at once with cunning and cruelty. It was on a Sabbath morning, when we had assembled to take sweet counsel together in the Lord's house. Our temple was but constructed of wooden logs ; but when shall the chant of trained hirelings, or the sounding of tin and brass tubes amid the aisles of a minster, arise so sweetly to Heaven, as did the psalm in which we united at once our voices and our hearts ! An excellent worthy, who now sleeps in the Lord, Nehcmiah Solsgrace, long the companion of my pilgrimage, had just begun to wrestle in prayer, when a woman, with disordered looks and dishevelled hair, entered our chapel in a distracted manner, screaming incessantly, 'The Indians ! The Indians!' — In that land no man dares separate himself from his means of defence ; and whether in the city or in the field, in the ploughed land or the forest, men keep beside them their weapons, as did the Jews at the rebuilding of the Temple. So we sallied forth with our guns and pikes, and heard the whoop of these incarnate devils, already in possession of a part of the town, and exercising their cruelty on the few whom weighty causes or indisposi- tion had withheld from public worship ; and it was remarked as a judgment, that, upon that bloody Sabbath, Adrian Hanson, a Dutch- man, a man well enough disposed towards man, but whose mind was altogether given to worldly gain, was shot and scalped as he was summing his weekly gains in his warehouse. In fine, there was much damage done ; and although our arrival and entrance into combat did in seme sort put them back, yet being surprised and confused, and L. 2 148 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. having no appointed 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 farther ad- vantage to the enemy, who fought, as it were, invisible, and under cover, whilst we fell fast by their unerring fire. In this state of con- fusion, and while we were about to adopt the desperate project of evacuating the village, and, placing the women and children in the centre, of attempting a retreat to the nearest settlement, it pleased heaven to send us unexpected 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 we hastily agitated the resolution 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 me, and you shall see this day that there is a captain in Israel ! ' He uttered a few 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, by his orders, into two bodies ; one of which maintained the defence of the village with more courage than ever, convinced that the Un- known was sent by God to our rescue. At his command they assumed the best and most sheltered positions 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 Warriors in the rear. The surprise, as is usual amongst savages, had complete effect ; for they doubted not they were assailed in their turn, and placed betwixt two hostile parties by the return of a detachment from the provincial army. The heathens fled in con- fusion, abandoning the half-won village, and leaving behind them such a number of their warriors, that the tribe hath never recovered its loss. Never shall I forget the figure of our venerable leader, when our men, and not they only, but the women and children of the village, rescued from the tomahawk and scalping-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 deliver. Bring me a cup of water, that I may allay my parched throat, ere I essay the task of offering thanks where they are most due.' I was nearest to him as he spoke, and I gave PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 149 into his hand the water he requested. At that moment we ex- changed glances, and it seemed to me that I recognised 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, he poured forth a strong and energetic thanks- giving for the turning back of the battle, which, pronounced 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 dying, with a rich tone of mingled triumph and adoration, was beyond them all — it was like the song of the inspired prophetess who dwelt beneath the palm-tree between Ramah and Bethel. He was silent ; and for a brief space we remained with our faces bent 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 contrary to the usual dryness of his con- versation, 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 eagerness, 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 dis- clamation, that the stranger was really a supernatural being ; others believed 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 recluse, who, either from motives of piety, or other cogent 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 suited best with the transient though close view with which I had perused the stranger's features," replied Bridgenorth ; " for although I dispute not that it may please Heaven, on high occa- sions, 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." " 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 base, 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?" ISO PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " 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 judgment-seat when Charles Stewart was arraigned at the bar, and subscribed the sentence that went forth uoon him." " I have ever heard," said Julian, in an altered voice, and colouring deeply, " that you, Master Bridgenorth, with the other Presbyterians, were totally averse to that detestable crime, and were ready to have made joint cause with the Cavaliers in preventing so horrible a parricide." " If it were so," replied Bridgenorth, " we have been richly rewarded by his successor !" " Rewarded !" exclaimed Julian ; " Does the distinction 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 Stewart have made in the Church and State— the tyranny which they exercise over men's persons and con- sciences—may well doubt whether it be lawful to use weapons in their defence. 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. I 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 grey eye retained all its lustre ; and though the grizzled beard covered the lower part of his face, it prevented me not from recognising 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 carefully, 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 melancholy which had stolen over features, to which a cheerful, if not a gay expression, was most natural. So soon as she caught his eye, she remarked, and, as Julian thought, with significance, that the shadows were lengthening, and evening confine- on He heard ; and although satisfied that she hinted at his departure, he could not, upon the instant, find resolution 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 Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak, he would, in another case, have thought himself called upon to dispute its conclusions, even at the sword's point. But Bridgenorth's opinions were delivered with so much calmness— seemed so much the result of PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 151 conviction — that they excited in Julian rather a spirit of wonder, than of angry controversy. There was a character of sober decision, and sedate melancholy, 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 circumstance,) would have rendered it difficult to take personal offence. His language and sentiments were of that quiet, yet decided kind, upon which it was 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. Little Fairy, the Manx pony, which, well accustomed to the vicinity of Black Fort, used to feed near the house while her master made his visits there, began to find his present 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 afterwards, could not forbear smiling to see the nose of the pony 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-fashioned apartment, and speaking so low that he could not be overheard by Alice and her governantc, who, in the meantime, 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 if to enjoy his embarrassment, and then added, " And indeed it were most unnecessary that you should no 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 words 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 fourteen years' hard service to her father, Laban, and they seemed to him but as a few days. But he that would wed my daughter must serve, in comparison, but a few days ; though in matters of such mighty import, th il tiny shall seem as the service of many years. — Reply not to me now, but go, and peace be with you." 1 te retired so quickly, after speaking, that Pcvcril had 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 suggested, i 5 2 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. that his dark features were illuminated by a smile of haughty triumph. He started, and looked more attentively — 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 features 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-Rushin, 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 been suffered to fall into a much more dilapidated con- dition than that of Castletown, so far as it could be considered as a place of residence. But as a fortress, Holm-Peel was stronger than Castletown ; nay, unless assailed regularly, was almost impregnable ; and was always held by a garrison belonging to the Lords of Man Here Peveril arrived at nightfall. He was told in the fishing-village, that the night-beH of the Castle had been rung earlier than usual, and the watch set with circumstances of unusual and jealous precaution. Resolving, therefore, not to disturb the garrison by entering at that late hour, he obtained an indifferent lodging in the town for the night, and determined to go to the Castle early on the succeeding morning. He was not sorry thus to gain a few hours of solitude, to think over the agitating events of the preceding day. CHAPTER XV. What seem'd its head, The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Paradise Lost. Sodor, r Holm-Peel,* so is named the castle to which our Julian directed his course early on the following morning, is one of those extraordinary monuments of antiquity with which this singular and interesting island abounds. It occupies the whole of a high rocky peninsula, or rather an island, for it is surrounded by the sea at high water, and scarcely accessible even when the tide is out, although a stone causeway, of great solidity, erected for the express purpose, connects the island with the mainland. The whole space is surrounded by double walls of great strength and thickness ; and the access to the interior, at the time which we treat of, was only by two flights of steep and narrow steps, divided from each other by a strong tower and guard- house ; under the former of which there is an entrance-arch. The open space within the walls extends to two acres, and contains many objects worthy of antiquarian curiosity. There were, besides the castle itself, two cathedral churches, dedicated, the earlier to Saint Patrick, the PEVERIL OF THE TEAK. 153 latter to Saint Germain ; besides two smaller churches ; all of which had become, even in that day, more or less ruinous. Their decayed walls, exhibiting the rude and massive architecture of the most remote period, were composed of a ragged grey stone, which formed a singular contrast with the bright red freestone of which the window-cases, corner-stones, arches, and other ornamental parts of the building, were composed. Besides these four ruinous churches, the space of ground enclosed by the massive exterior walls of Holm-Peel exhibited many other vestiges of the olden time. There was a square mound of earth, facing, with its angles to the points of the compass, one of those motes, as they were called, on which, in ancient times, the northern tribes elected or recognised 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 seem yet to be hidden in the midst of ages. This of Holm-Peel had been converted to the purpose of a watch- tower. There were, besides, Runic monuments, of which the legends could not be deciphered ; and later inscriptions to the memory of champions, of whom the names only were preserved from oblivion. But tradition and superstitious eld, still most busy where real history is silent, had filled up the long blank of accurate information with tales of Sea-kings and Pirates, Hebridean Chiefs and Norwegian Resolutes, who had formerly warred against, and in defence of, this famous castle. Superstition, too, had her tales of goblins, ghosts, and spectres — her legends of saints and demons, of fairies and of familiar spirits, which in no corner of the British Empire are told and received with more absolute credulity than in the 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 vcryancient building, containing several apartments of sufficient size and height to be termed noble. But in the surrender of the island by Christian, 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, Richard, Earl 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 often visible at night, traversing the battlements of the external walls, or standing motionless beside a par- ticular solitary turret of one of the watch-towers 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 church. Such was Holm Peel, as records inform us, till towards the end of the seventeenth century. i 5 4 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. It was in one of the lofty but almost unfurnished apartments of this ancient Castle that Julian Peveril found his friend the Earl of Derby, who had that moment sat down to a breakfast composed of various sorts offish. "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 wellnigh dead for cold." Julian answered by enquiring the meaning of this sudden 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 shall at length be tempted to enquire ; 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 enquire into these matters a little more curiously." " To what purpose," said the Earl. " To hear old stories about the Tinwald laws, and the contending rights of the lords and the clergy, and all the rest of that Celtic barbarism, which, like Burgesse's thorough- paced doctrine, enters at one ear, paces through, and goes out at the other ? " " Come, my lord," said Julian, " you are not so indifferent as you would represent yourself— you are dying of curiosity to know what this hurry is about ; only you think it the courtly humour to appear careless about your own affairs." " Why, what should it be about," said the young Earl, " unless some factious dispute between our Majesty's minister, Governor Nowel, and our vassals ? or perhaps some dispute betwixt our Majesty and the ecclesiastical jurisdiction ? for all which, our Majesty cares as little as any king in Christendom." " I rather suppose there is intelligence from England," said Julian. " I heard last night in Peeltown, that Greenhalgh is come over with unpleasant news." " He brought me nothing that was pleasant, I wot well," said the Earl. " I expected something from St. Evremond or Hamilton — some new plays by Drydcn or Lee, and some waggery or lampoons from the Rose Coffee-house ; and the fellow has 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 mad-woman the Duchess of Newcastle." " Hush, my lord, for Heaven's sake," said Peveril ; " 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 I would not give one of Waller's songs, or Denham's satires, 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 accordingly, holding in her hand a number of papers. Her dress was a mourning habit, with a deep train of black velvet, 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. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 155 Upon this unfortunate being, 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 receive 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 Julian, 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 blushj which he could not prevent, " That he had followed his sport among the mountains too far— had re- turned late — and finding her ladyship was removed from Castletown, had instantly followed 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 justice, Julian, you are seldom a truant neglecter of appointed 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 he docs 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 Lachrymae Christi. I pray you to sit down to breakfast, Julian, and partake the goods my royal foresight has provided. Never was King of Man nearer being left to the mercy of the execrable brandy of his dominions. Old Griffiths would never, in the midst of our speedy retreat of 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 purpose," said the Countess, half smiling, half displeased ; for she doted upon her son with all a mother's fondness, even when she was most angry with him for being deficient 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 Roi faineant, and never once interfered with my Mai/ c de fialais in her proceedings." J lie Countess made signs to her little train-bearer, who immediately went to seek for wax and a light, with which she presently returned. In the meanwhile, the Countess continued, addressing Peveril, 156 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " 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 Ramsey, and her crime what in Cupid's courts would have been called a peccadillo." " Do not make yourself worse than you are," replied Peveril, who observed the Countess's cheek redden, — " 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 aught 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 reason." " It is an infernal hole," answered the Earl, "and I will have it built up one day— that is full certain. — But hold— hold— for God's sake, madam— what are you going to do ?— Look at the seal before you put it to the warrant — you will see it is a choice antique cameo Cupid, riding on a flying-fish— I had it for twenty zechins, from Signor Fura- bosco at Rome — a most curious matter for an antiquary, but which will add little faith to a Manx warrant." " How 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 that with the three mons- trous legs, which I suppose was devised as the most preposterous device, to represent our most absurd Majesty of Man. — The signet — I have not seen it since I gave it to Gibbon, my monkey, to play with. — He did whine for it most piteously — I hope he has not gemmed 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 j only an ill-imagined jest, ungracious, and in bad taste, I allow— but only one of Philip's follies. Look at me, dearest mother, and forgive me !" 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 my own son. Let me not learn the PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 1^7 general prevalence of this levity, which laughs at every sense of dignity or duty, through your personal disrespect— Let me not think that when I die" " Speak nothing of it, mother," said the Earl, interrupting her affec- tionately. " It is true, I cannot promise to be all my father and his fathers were ; for we wear silk vests for their steel coats, and feathered beavers for their crested helmets. But believe me, though to be an absolute Palmerin of England is not in my nature, no son ever loved a mother more dearly, or would do more to oblige her. And that you may own this, I will forthwith not only seal the warrants, to the great endangerment of my precious fingers, but also read the same from end to end, as well as the dispatches thereunto appertaining." A mother is easily appeased, even when most offended ; and it was with an expanding heart that the Countess saw her son's very hand- some 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 unfortunate father increased, when the expression of their countenances became similar in gravity. The Earl had no sooner perused the dispatches, 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 super- fluous 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 — I 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 have none of mine. — I trust that you. Master Pcveril, 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 project- ing turret, where, amidst the roar of waves and sea-mews' clang, he held with him the following conversation. " Peveril, it is well I 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 it, I would feel it an inconvenience to be deprived of." " What on earth is the matter ? " said Peveril, with considerable anxiety. " It seems," said the Earl of Derby, " that Old England, 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 158 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. a real or supposed Popish Plot. I read one programme 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 driving 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, tempo- rizes 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 nobles are in the Tower already ; and the nation, like a bull at Tutbury-running, is persecuted with so many in- flammatory rumours and pestilent pamphlets, that she has cocked her tail, flung up her heels, taken the bit between her teeth, and is as furiously unmanageable as in the year 1642." " All this you must have known already," said Peveril ; " I wonder you told me not of news so important." "It would 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 conclude, it was no business of mine. But these dispatches of my politic mother's private correspondent put a new face on the whole matter ; for it seems some of the informers — 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 with great cool- ness. I think the Countess more composed 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 your lord- ship 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; " 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-Truagh, 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; "you know the Countess seldom or never alludes to the subject." " Why," replied the Earl, " 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 dempsters at the time, and naturally enough, was unwilling to concur in the sentence which ad- judged his aine to be shot like a dog. My mother, who was then in PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 159 high force, and not to be controlled by any one, would have served the dempster with the same sauce with which she dressed his brother, 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 Dempster Christian made occasionally secret visits to his friends in the island, along with two or three other Puritans of the same stamp, and par- ticularly a prick-eared rogue, called Bridgenorth, brother-in-law to the deceased, 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." "And why," said Peveril, forcing himself to speak, in order to con- ceal the very unpleasant surprise which he felt, " why does the Coun- tess now depart from so prudent a line of conduct ? " "You must know the case is now different. The rogues are not satisfied with toleration — they would have supremacy. They have found friends in the present heat of the popular mind. My mother's name, and especially that of her confessor, Aldrick the Jesuit, have 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 on our scrap of a kingdom here, and cut all our throats, they would have the thanks of the present house of Commons, as willingly as old Christian had those of the Rump, for a similar service." " From whence did you receive all this information ? " said Peveril, again speaking, though by the same effort which a man makes who talks in his sleep. "Aldrick has seen the Duke of York in secret, and his Royal High- ness, who wept while he confessed his want 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 Dempster Christian and Bridgenorth were in the island, with secret and severe orders ; that they had formed a considerable party there, and were likely to be owned and protected in any thing they might undertake against us. The people of Ramsey and Castletown arc unluckily dis- contented about some new regulation of the imposts ; and, to tell you the truth, though I thought yesterday's sudden remove 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 authoritv. Here arc the warrants she had prepared, to search for, take, and apprehend 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 them — that is her way of solving all sudden difficulties." " But in which, I trust, you do not acquiesce, my lord," answered l6o PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. Peveril, whose thoughts instantly reverted to Alice, if they could ever be said to be absent from her. " Truly, I acquiesce in no such matter," said the Earl. " William Christian's death cost me a fair half of my inheritance. I have no fancy to fall under the displeasure of my royal brother, King Charles, for a new escapade of the same kind. But how to pacify my mother, I know not. I wish 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 storm-blast in London is wind in their sails, and they will run their length, you may depend on it. I have sent orders, however, to clap up the Manxmen 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 to send them on a pretty distant voyage, and I hope matters 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 Peveril. 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 Peveril's 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 getting 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 with the fair sex. Meanwhile 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 recognising the handwriting, 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 Countess 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. PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 161 "Shall I read your riddle?" said the Earl. "Go where love calls you — I will make an excuse to my mother — only, most grave anchorite, be hereafter more indulgent to the failings of others than you have been hitherto, and blaspheme not the power of the little deity." " Nay, but, Cousin Derby " said Peveril, and stopped short, for he really knew not what to say. Secured 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 approved 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 if he waited till he should complete his sentence, and at length exclaimed, " What ! cousin, quite a-la-mort! O, most judicious Julian ! O, most precise Peveril ! have you bestowed 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 hear thee say, ' I love !' — confess one touch of human frailty — conjugate the verb anio, and I will be a gentle schoolmaster, 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," answered the Earl, still laughing. " No doubt you are summoned out by some Lady Politic Wouldbe 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 imme- diate 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 neglected ; 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 lake horse at the Earl's stables, for the place of rendezvous. 162 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. CHAPTER XVI. Acctsto. Can she not speak ? Oswald. If speech be only in accented sounds, 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 term'd speech, She hath that wondrous faculty ; for her eyes, Like 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 descended 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 crea- ture — 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 ankles, was also rather a foreign attribute. Her countenance resembled a most beautiful miniature ; and there was a quickness, decision, and fire, in Fenella's look, and especially in her eyes, which was probably 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 accomplishments, which the Countess had caused to be taught to her in compassion for her for- lorn situation, and which she learned with the most surprising quick- ness. 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 repre- sentation. Above all, in the art of ornamental writing, much studied at that period, Fenella was so great a proficient, as to rival the fame of Messrs. Snow. Shelley, and other masters of the pen, whose copy-books, 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 calligraphy. 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 was seldom separate, Fenella was by no means a PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 163 favourite with the rest of the household. In fact, it seemed that her temper, exasperated 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 himself with teazing her, that he might enjoy the various singular 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 — before whom she did not control herself— the expression 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 and respect, but much more from fear than from any real attachment ; for the caprices of her temper 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 legends of fairies so dear to the Celtic tribes, the Manx people held it for certainty that the elves were in the habit 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 per- petually affecting 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 bscause it gave her more authority among the lower orders. Many were the talcs circulated respecting the Countess's JC/f, as Fenella was currently called in the island ; and the malcontents of the stricter persuasion were convinced, that no one but a Papist and a malignant would have kept near her person a creature of such doubtful origin. They conceived that Fenclla's deafness and dumbness were only towards those of this world, and that she had been heard talking, and singing, 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 anteroom, 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 M 2 164 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. the haunted valley of Glenmoy, or on the heights of Snawfell and Barool. The sentinels, 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, confronted Julian on the top of the flight of steps which led down the rock from the Castle-court. We ought to observe, that as Julian's manner to the unfortunate girl had been always gentle, and free from those teazing jests in which his gay friend indulged, with less regard to the peculiarity of her situation and feelings ; so Fenella, on her part, had usually shown much greater deference to him than to any of the household, her mistress, 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 by a series of gestures, which we will endeavour 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 enquiry whether he was going to a distance. Julian, in reply, extended his arm more than half, to intimate that the distance was considerable. Fenella looked 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 interrogatories, smiled, and made an effort to pass. Fenella frowned, struck the end of her ebony rod perpendicularly on the ground, and again shook her head, as if opposing his departure. But finding that Julian persevered 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 attitude, whilst every feature of her lively countenance was composed into the like expression of sup- plication ; and the fire of the large dark eyes, which appeared 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 eyelashes, but without falling. Julian Peveril was far from being void of sympathy towards the poor girl, whose motives in opposing his departure appeared 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 speedily as he could, in order to avoid farther importunity. But with activity much greater than his, the dumt» maiden hastened PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 165 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 descend- ing, so as to interrupt his purpose. In order to achieve this, she was obliged to let herself drop a considerable height from the wall of a small flanking battery, where two 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 danger and the remonstrance ; while at the same time she instantly resumed, with more eagerness than before, the earnest and impressive gestures by which she endeavoured to detain him in the fortress. Julian was somewhat staggered by her pertinacity. " Is it possible," he thought, " that any danger can approach the Countess, of which this poor maiden has, by the extreme acuteness 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 you thus stop me?" " There is danger around the Countess," was the answer instantly written clown ; " but there is much more in your own purpose." " How ?— what? — what know you of my purpose?" said Julian, for- getting, in his surprise, that the party he addressed, had neither ear to comprehend, nor voice to reply, to uttered language. She had regained her book in the meantime, and sketched, with a rapid pencil, on one of the leaves, a scene which she showed to Julian. To his infinite sur- prise he recognised Goddard Crovan's stone, a remarkable monument, of which she had given the outline with sufficient accuracy ; together with a male and female figure, which, though only indicated by a few slight touches of the pencil, bore yet, he thought, some resemblance to himself and Alice lhidgenorth. When he had gazed on the sketch for an instant with surprise, Fenella took the book from his hand, laid her finger upon the drawing and slowly and sternly shook her 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 monitrcss. 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 necessary 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 Bridgenorth ; entertaining an idea that a person so reasonable and calm as he had shown himself in their late conference, might be persuaded, when he understood that the Countess 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, tender a material benefit to the father " i66 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. of his beloved Alice — remove the Earl from his state of anxiety— save the Countess from a second time putting her feudal jurisdiction in opposition to that of the Crown of England— and secure quiet posses sion 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 damsel in his arms before she was aware of his purpose, he turned about, set her down on the steps above him, and began to descend the pass himself as speedily as possible. It was then that the dumb maiden gave full course to the vehemence of her disposition ; and clapping her hands repeatedly, expressed her displeasure in a sound, or rather a shriek, so extremely dissonant, that it resembled more the cry of a wild creature, than any thing which could 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 satisfy himself that she had not sustained 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 farther 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 impo- tent passion of a being so unfortunately circumstanced, cut off, as it were, from the rest of mankind, and incapable of receiving in child- hood that moral discipline which teaches us mastery of our wayward passions, ere yet they have attained their meridian strength and vio- lence. 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 preter- natural speed, was soon out of sight. Julian, on his part, gave no farther 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 forward with speed far greater than was promised by the diminutive 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 absence as usual, or recommending his departure from the island, she should now voluntarily invite him to a meeting. Under impression of the various doubts which succeeded each other in his imagination, he sometimes pressed Fairy's sides with his legs ; sometimes laid his holly rod lightly on her neck ; sometimes incited her 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 long forgotten, was erected on the side of a narrow lonely valley, or rather glen, secluded from obser- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 167 vation by the steepness of its camcs, 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 XVII. This a love-meeting ? See the maiden mourns, And the sad suitor bends his looks on earth. There's more hath pass'd 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 grey 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, seizing 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 intimacy, still knew well how to subdue the tendency of her own treacherous affections. "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 meeting 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 lot 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, inter- spersed with wild flowers, backed with a bush of copscwood, he took his place beside her, indeed, but at such distance as to intimate the duty of an attendant, who was there only to hear and to obey. Alice Bridgenorth became more assured 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 i63 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. a proof of his respectful and disinterested sincerity. She recovered, in addressing him, the tone of confidence which rather belonged to the scenes of their early acquaintance, than to those which had passed betwixt them since Peveril had disclosed his affection, and thereby had brought restraint upon their intercourse. "Julian," she said, "your visit of yesterday — your most ill-timed visit, has distressed me much. It has misled my father — it has endan- gered you. At all risks, I resolved that you should know this, and blame me not if I have taken a bold and imprudent step in desiring this solitary interview, since you are aware how little poor Deborah is to be trusted.'' " Can you fear misconstruction from me, Alice ? " replied Peveril, warmly ; " from me, whom you have thus highly favoured — thus deeply obliged?" " Cease your protestations, Julian," answered the maiden, " they do but make me the more sensible that I have acted over boldly. But I did for the best.— I could not see you whom I have known so long — you, who say you regard me with partiality " " Say that I regard you with partiality ! " interrupted Peveril in his turn. " Ah, Alice, what a cold and doubtful phrase you have used to express the most devoted, the most sincere affection !" " Well, then," said Alice, sadly, " we will not quarrel about words ; but do not again interrupt me.— I could not, I say, see you, who, I believe, regard me with sincere though vain and fruitless attachment, rush blindfold into a snare, deceived and seduced by those very feel- ings towards me." "I understand you not, Alice," said Peveril; "nor can I see any danger to which I am at present exposed. The sentiments which your father has expressed towards me, are of a nature irreconcilable with hostile purposes. If he is not offended with the bold wishes I may have formed, and his whole behaviour shows the contrary, I know not a man on earth from whom I have less cause to apprehend any danger or ill-will." " My father," said Alice, " means well by his country, and well by you ; yet I sometimes fear he may rather injure than serve his good cause ; and still more do I dread, that in attempting to engage you as an auxiliary, he may forget those ties which ought to bind you, and I am sure which will bind you, to a different line of conduct from his own " " You lead me into still deeper darkness, Alice," answered Peveril. " That your father's especial line of politics differs widely from mine, I know well ; but how many instances have occurred, even during the bloody scenes of civil warfare, of good and worthy men laying the prejudice of party affections aside, and regarding each other with respect, and even with friendly attachment, without being false to principle on either side ?" "It may be so," said Alice ; " but such is not the league which my fathei desires to form with you, and that to which he hopes your mis- placed partiality towards his daughter may afford a motive for your iomnng with him." " And what is it," said Peveril, " which I would refuse, with such a prospect before me r< ■ PEVERIL OE THE PEAK. 169 "Treachery and dishonour!" replied Alice; "whatever would render you unworthy of the poor boon at which you aim— ay, were it more worthless than I confess it to be.'' " Would your father," said Peveril. as he unwillingly received the impression which Alice designed to convey, — " would he, whose views of dutvare so strict and severe— would he wish to involve me in aught, to which such harsh epithets as treachery and dishonour can be applied with the slightest shadow of truth ?" " Do not mistake me, Julian," replied the maiden ; " my father is incapable of requesting aught of you that is not to his thinking just and honourable ; nay, he conceives that he only claims from you a debt which is due as a creature to the Creator, and as a man to your fellow- men." " So guarded, where can be the danger of our intercourse ? " replied Julian. " If he be resolved to require, and I determined to accede to, nothing save what flows from conviction, what have I to fear, Alice ? And how is my intercourse with your father dangerous ? Believe not so ; his speech has already made impression on me in some particulars, and he listened with candour and patience to the objections which I made occasionally. You do Master Bridgenorth less than justice in confounding him with the unreasonable bigots in policy and religion, who can listen to no argument but what favours their own pre- possessions." "Julian," replied Alice, "it is you who misjudge my father's powers, and his purpose with respect to you, and who overrate your own powers of resistance. I am but a girl, but I have been taught by cir- cumstances to think for myself, and to consider the character of those who are around me. My father's views in ecclesiastical and civil policy, are as dear to him as the life which he cherishes only to advance them. They have been, with little alteration, his companions through life. They brought him at one period into prosperity, and when they suited not the times, he suffered for having held them. They have become not only a part, but the very dearest part of his existence. If he shows them not to you at first, in the inflexible strength which they have acquired over his mind, do not believe that they are the less powerful. He who desires to make converts must begin by degrees. But that he should sacrifice to an inexperienced young man, whose ruling motive he will term a childish passion, any part of those treasured principles which he has maintained through good repute and bad repute — O, do not dream of such an impossibility ! If you meet at all, you must be the wax, he the seal— you must receive- he must bestow an absolute impression." " That," said Peveril, " were unreasonable. I will frankly avow to you, Alice, that I am not a sworn bigot to the opinions entertained by my father, much as I respect his person. I could wish that our Cavaliers, or whatsoever they are pleased to call themselves, would have some more charity towards those who differ from them in Church and State. But to hope that I would surrender the principles in which I have lived, were to suppose me capable of deserting my benefactress, and breaking the hearts of my parents." ''Even so I judged of you, answered Alice; "and, therefore, I i 7 o PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. asked this interview, to conjure that you will break off all intercourse with our family— return to your parents — or, what will be much safer, visit the continent once more, and abide till God sends better days to England, for these are black with many a storm." "And can you bid me go, Alice ?" said the young man, taking her unresisting hand ; " can you bid me go, and yet own an interest in my fate ? — Can you bid me, for fear of dangers, which, as a man, as a gentleman, and a loyal one, I am bound to show my face to, meanly abandon my parents, my friends, my country — suffer the existence of evils which I might aid to prevent, forego the prospect of doing such little good as might be in my power — fall from an active and honourable station, into the condition of a fugitive and time-server — can you bid me do all this, Alice ? Can you bid me do all this, and, in the same breath, bid farewell for ever to you and happiness ? — It is impossible — I cannot surrender at once my love and my honour." " There is no remedy," said Alice, but she could not suppress a sigh while she said so — " there is no remedy — none whatever. What we might have been to each other, placed in more favourable circum- stances, it avails not to think of now ; and, circumstanced as we are, with open war about to break out betwixt our parents and friends, we can be but well-wishers — cold and distant well-wishers, who must part on this spot, and at this hour, never to meet again." " No, by Heaven ! " said Peveril, animated at the same time by his own feelings, and by the sight of the emotions which his companion in vain endeavoured to supress, — " No, by Heaven !" he exclaimed, "we part not — Alice, we part not. If I am to leave my native land, you shall be my companion in my exile. What have you to lose ? — Whom have you to abandon ? — Your father ? — The good old cause, as it is termed, is dearer to him than a thousand daughters ; and setting him aside, what tie is there between you and this barren isle — between my Alice and any spot of the British dominions, where her Julian does not sit by her ? " " Oh, Julian," answered the maiden, " why make my duty more painful by visionary projects, which you ought not to name, or I to listen to ? — Your parents — my father — it cannot be ! " " Fear not for my parents, Alice," replied Julian, and pressing close to his companion's side, he ventured to throw his arm around her ; " they love me, and they will soon learn to love, in Alice, the only being on earth who could have rendered their son happy. And for your own father, when State and Church intrigues allow him to bestow a thought upon you, will he not think that your happiness, your security, is better cared for when you are my wife, than were you to continue under the mercenary charge of yonder foolish woman ? What could his pride desire better for you, than the establishment which will one day be mine ? Come then, Alice, and since you condemn me to banishment — since you 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 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 171 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 PeveriL eagerly ; "this is adding insult to cruelty. If you will do aught for my sake, you will say yes ; 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 anticipation of the consent which he implored, Alice found means to collect together her resolution, which, staggered by the eagerness of her lover, the impulse of her own affections, and the singularity of her situation, — seeming, in her case, to justify what would have been most blameable 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 simplicity not unminglcd 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 Bridgcnorth, their whig grand-dame." " 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 forme,thatmakesyourcsistthchappincss 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, )Our mother weeps, your noble friends stand aloof, and you, even you your- self, shall have made the painful discovery, that you have incurred the contempt and resentment of all to satisfy a boyish passion ; and thai the poor beauty, once sufficient to mislead you, is gradually declining under the influence of grief and vexation ! This I will not risk. I sec 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 impart to you : — Shun my father — you cannot walk in his paths, and be true to gratitude and to honour. What he dotli from pure and honour- able motives, you cannot aid him in, except upon the suggestion of a silly and interested passion, at variance with all the engagements you have formed at coming into life" '■' Once more, Alice," answered Julian, " I understand you not. If a course of action is good, it needs no vindication from the actor's motives — if bad, it can derive none." 172 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " 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, he had medi- tated a murder and not a sacrifice. In our late bloody and lamentable wars, how many drew swords on either side, from the purest and most honourable motives? How many from the culpable suggestions of ambition, self-seeking, and love of plunder ? Yet while they marched in the same ranks, and spurred their horses at the same trumpet-sound, the memory of the former is dear to us as patriots or loyalists — that of those who acted on mean or unworthy promptings, is either execrated or forgotten. Once more, I 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 circum- stances, to attach a shadow of suspicion — trust not the very stones of the most secret apartment in Holm-Peel, 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 oc- casion his countenance exhibited anger mixed with solemnity, like that of the spirit to a ghost-seer, whom he upbraids with having neglected a charge imposed at their first meeting. Even his anger, however, pro- duced no more violent emotion than a cold sternness of manner in his speech and action. " I 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 thrown out before my appearance, the suddenness of which alone has prevented you from carrying your confidence to a pitch which would have placed my 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 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 veins, and with the rude nur- ture 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 anything 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, in- fringement of good faith, and such like peccadilloes, are not utterly PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. i 73 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 chivalrous a quality to be wasted in inter- course 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 feel- ings suddenly and strongly animated by the crisis of the moment — nothing was premeditated." " Not even your meeting, I suppose?" replied Bridgenorth in the same cold tone. " You, sir, wandered hither 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 man, disgrace yourself by no more apologies — they are worse than useless. — And you, maiden, in your fear of losing your lover, could verge on betraying what might have 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 seem to have forgotten." " On my honour, sir," said Julian, " your daughter is guiltless of all that can offend you ; she resisted every offer which the headstrong violence of my passion urged me to press upon her." " And, in brief," said Bridgenorth, " I am not to believe that you have met in this remote place of rendezvous by Alice's special ap- pointment ?" Peveril 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 hoodwinked had a direct reference to me." " 'Tis well, minion," said Bridgenorth, " you have spoken your say. Retire, and let me complete the conference which you have so con- siderately 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 underwood, 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 I would not face to — to- deserve your good opinion." 174 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. " Or rather to win my daughter's hand," said Bridgenorth. " 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 surmounted that bounding wall of aristocratical pride, in which your father, and, I suppose, his fathers, remained imprisoned, as in the pre- cincts of a feudal fortress — you have leaped over this barrier, and shown yourself not unwilling to ally yourself with a family, whom your father spurns as low-born and ignoble." However favourable this speech sounded towards success 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 Major Bridgenorth seemed resolved quietly to await his answer, he mustered up courage to say, " The feel- ings which I entertain towards your daughter, Master Bridgenorth, are 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 atten- tion. 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 disappear when he came to know the merit of Alice Bridgenorth, 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 reconciled 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 marriage, and an elopement to the continent, as measures upon which the whole happiness of his life depended, the proposal seemed not to him half so delightful when stated by the calm, cold, dictatorial accents of her father. It sounded no longer like the impulses 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 Bridge- north 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 eye gleamed, and his lip quivered, while he gave vent to it. " Hark ye, young man — deal openly with me in this matter, if you would not have me think you the execrable villain who would have seduced an unhappy girl under promises which he never designed to fulfil. Let me but suspect this, and you shall sec, on the spot, how far your pride and your pedigree will preserve you against the just vengeance of a father." " You do me wrong," said Peveril — " you do me infinite 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 necessary to examine me so very closely ; and to possess yourself of all my purposes and sentiments, in their fullest extent, without explaining to me the tendency of your own." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK 175 " Yom" proposal, then, shapes itself thus," said Bridgenorth :— "You are willing to lead 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 I 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 wealth. This, young man, seems no equal bargain. And yet," 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 favour, Major Bridgenorth," said Peveril, — " for 1 will not doubt that they will be con- sistent with my honour and duty, — and you shall soon see how eagerly I will obey your directions, or submit to your conditions." " They are summed in few words," answered Bridgenorth. " Be an honest man, and the friend of your country." " No one has ever doubted," replied Peveril, " that I am both." " Pardon me," replied the Major ; " No one has as yet seen you show yourself either. Interrupt me not — I question not your will to be both ; but you have hitherto 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, succeeding to the agitations of the Civil War, had made men indifferent to state affairs, and more willing to cultivate their own ease, than to stand in the gap when the Lord was pleading with Israel. But we are Englishmen ; and with us such unnatural lethargy cannot continue long. Already, many of those who most desired the return of Charles Stewart, regard him as a King whom Heaven, importuned by our entreaties, gave to us in His anger. His unlimited license — an example so readily 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, has denied issue to his bed of wedlock ; and in the gloomy and stern character 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." Peveril remembered the warning which he had received from Alic<\ and bent his eyes on the ground, without return- ing any reply. " How is it, young man,'' continued Bridgenorth, after • iise — so young as thou art, and bound by no ties of kindred pro- icy with the enemies of your country, you can be already hardened to the claims she may form on you at this crisis ? " " It were easy to answer you generally, Major nridgenorth," replied Peveril—" It were easy to say that my country cannot make 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 other. What is the nature ot this call ? By whom is it to be sounded.'' And what are to be the results i lor I think you have already seen enough of the 176 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. evils of civil war, to be wary of again awakening its terrors in a peace- ful and happy country." " 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 bands, 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. " 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 support 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 Commons," interrupted Bridgenorth, " no longer doting upon restored monarchy, but awakened, as with a p'eal of thunder, to the perilous state of our religion, and of our freedom. I appeal to your own conscience, Julian Peveril, whether this awakening hath not been in time, since you yourself know, and 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 thought of favouring the Roman Catholic religion. " It 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 countries ; but even for these very reasons I have seen Popery too closely to be friendly to its tenets. The 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 to my mind as they can seem to yours, with common sense, rational liberty, freedom of conscience, and pure religion." " Spoken like the son of your excellent mother ! " said Bridgenorth, grasping his hand ; " for whose sake I have consented to endure 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 my 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 Bridgenorth, dropping his young friend's hand, but presently resuming it — "Alas ! that church, as now constituted, usurps scarcely less than Rome herself upon men's con- PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. z-,-, sciences and liberties ; yet, out of the weakness of this half-reformed church, may God be 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 Episcopal ordination. It is not for us to challenge the in- strument, so that our escape is achieved from the net of the fowler. Enough, that I find thee not as yet enlightened with the purer doctrine, but prepared to profit by it when the spark shall reach thee. Enough, in especial, 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." " What I have said/' replied Julian Peveril, " being the unbiassed sentiments of my heart, shall, upon no proper occasion, want the support of my open avowal ; and I think it strange you should doubt me so far." " I doubt thee not, my young friend," said Bridgenorth ; " 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 faitli in which alone there is found salva- tion. — 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 riddles, Major Bridgenorth ; and I have asked you for no explanation. Listen to a caution on my part, given with the most sincere good-will. Take a hint from me, and believe it, though it is darkly expressed. You are here — at least arc 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 Julian Peveril? Runs not your counsel so, young man ? " answered Bridgenorth. "Trust my safety, Julian, to my own prudence. I have been ac- customed to guide myself through worse dangers than now environ me. But I 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 anger, my son," said Bridgenorth, " but in love and strong affection. For my daughter, thou must forbear every thought of seeing her, save through me. I accept not thy suit, neither do I reject it ; only this 1 intimate to you, that he who would be my son, must first v himself the true and loving child of his oppressed and deluded country. Farewell ! Do not answer me now ; thou art yet in the gall r,f bitterness, and it may be that strife (which I desire not) should fall between us. Thou shalt 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 mingled impression of pleasure, doubt, and wonder. Not a little surprised to find 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 suspecting, as Well i 7 8 PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. from the language of the daughter as of the father, that Bridgenorth was desirous, as the price of his favour, that he should adopt some line of conduct inconsistent 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 by aught which resembled unworthy or truckling compliance with tenets which my heart disowns ; and well I know, were I mean enough to do so, even the authority of thy father were in- sufficient to compel thee to the ratification of so mean a bargain. But let me hope better things. Bridgenorth, though strong-minded and sagacious, is haunted by the fears of Popeiy, 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 suspicions of my faith, from which, thank Heaven, I can vindicate myself with truth and a good conscience." So thinking, he again adjusted the girths 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 ensign-staff. The sentinels walked to and fro on their posts, and hummed or whistled their Manx airs. Leaving his faithful com- panion, Fairy, in the village as before, Julian entered the Castle, and found all within in the same state of quietness and good order which external appearances had announced. CHAPTER XVIII. Now rede me, rede me, brother dear, Throughout Merry England, Where will I find a messenger, Betwixt us two to send. Ballad of King Estmcrc. Julian's first rencounter, after re-entering the Castle, was with its young Lord, who received him with his usual kindness and lightness of humour. " Thrice welcome, Sir Knight of Dames," said the Earl ; "here you rove gallantly, and at free will, through our dominions, fulfilling of ap- pointments, and achieving amorous adventures ; while we are con- demned to sit in our royal halls, as dull and as immovable as if our Majesty was carved on the stern of some Manx smuggling dogger, and christened the King Arthur of Ramsey." PEVERIL OF THE PEAK, i 79 " Nay, in that case you wouid take the sea," said Julian, " 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." " I am happy to hear, at least, that you have had no disagreeable employment," said Julian ; " the morning's alarm has blown over, I suppose ? " " In faith it has, Julian ; and our close enquiries cannot find any cause for the apprehended insurrection. That Bridgenorth 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 com- panions. In fact, it would seem we had taken the alarm too soon. My mother speaks of consulting you on the subject, Julian ; and I will not anticipate her solemn communication. It will be partly apologetical, I suppose ; for we begin to think our retreat rather un- royal, and that, like the wicked, we have fled when no man pursued. This idea afflicts my mother, who, as a Queen-Dowager, a Queen- Regent, a heroine, and a woman in general, would be extremely mortified to think that her precipitate retreat hither had exposed her to the ridicule of the islanders ; and she is disconcerted and 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 her. Morris says, it is because you pushed her down stairs, Julian — how is that?" " Nay, Morris has misreported me," answered Julian ; " I did but lift her up stairs to be rid of her importunity ; 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 moment so critical, was dangerous to the state of our garrison," answered the Earl; "it shows how dearly she esteems my mother's safety, how highly she rates your prowess. — But, thank Heaven, there sounds the dinner-bell. I would the philosophers, who find a sin 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 consuming a portion 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, accompanied by her gentlewoman and attendants, retired early after the tables were drawn ; and the young gentlemen were left to their own company. Wine had, for the moment, no charms for cither ; for 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 matter for reflection, to permit his starting amusing or interesting topics of con- versation. After having passed the flask in silence betwixt them once or twice, they withdrew each into a separate embrasure of the windows of the dining apartment, which, such was the extreme thickness of the N 2 1S0 PEVEfUL OF THE PEAK. wall., were deep enough to afford a solitary recess, separated, as it were, from the chamber itself. In one of these sat the Earl of Derby, busied in looking over some of the new publications which had been forwarded from London ; and at intervals confessing how little power or interest these had for him, by yawning fearfully as he looked out on the solitary expanse 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 occasional attention. His whole soul turned upon the interview which he had had that day with Alice Bridgenorth, and with her father ; while he in vain endeavoured to form any hypothesis which could explain to him why the daughter, to whom he had no reason to think himself indifferent, should have been so suddenly desirous of their eternal separation, while her father, whose opposition he so much dreaded, seemed to be at least tolerant of his addresses. He could only suppose, in explanation, that Major Bridge- north had some plan in prospect, which it was in his own power to further or to impede ; while, from the demeanour, and indeed the language, of Alice, he had but too much reason to apprehend that her father's favour could only be conciliated by something, on his own part, approaching to dereliction of principle. But by no conjecture which he could form, could he make the least guess concerning the nature of that compliance, of which Bridgenorth seemed desirous. He could not imagine, notwithstanding 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 the front, that he could not suppose the scheme proposed to him by any who was not prepared to defend with his sword, upon the spot, so flagrant an insult offered to his honour. And such a proceeding was totally in- consistent with the conduct of Major Bridgenorth in every other respect, besides his being too calm and cold-blooded to permit of his putting a mortal affront upon the son of his old neighbour, to whose mother he confessed so much of obligation. While Peveril in vain endeavoured to extract something like a probable theory out of the hints thrown out by the father and by the daughter — not without the additional and lover-like labour of endeavour- ing to reconcile his passion to his honour and conscience — he felt some- thing 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 prospect of sea-coast and sea which they perused, without much consciousness upon what they rested, he beheld beside him the little dumb maiden, the elfin Fenella. She was seated on a low cushion or stooi, with which she had nestled close to Peveril's side, and had remained there for a short space of time, expecting, no doubt, he would become conscious of her presence ; until, tired of remaining unnoticed, she at length solicited his attention in the manner which we have described. Startled out of his reverie by this intimation of her [jtesence, he looked down, and could not, without interest, behold this bin^ular and helpless being. her hair was unloosened, and streamed over her shoulders in such PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. i8x length, that much of it lay upon the ground, and in such quantity, that it formed a dark veil, or shadow, not only around 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 features, together with the large and brilliant black eyes ; and her whole countenance was composed into the imploring look of one who is doubtful of the re- ception she is about to meet with from a valued friend, while she con- fesses a fault, pleads an apology, or solicits a reconciliation. 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 that her countenance was entirely new. The wild, fantastic, 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 overflow the eyelids. Conceiving that her unwonted manner arose from a recollection of the dispute Which had taken place betwixt them in the 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 tresses with the other. She stooped her head, as if ashamed, 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 misin- terpreted in his familiarity with a creature to whom the usual modes of explanation were a blank, occurred to Julian's mind ; and, hastily with- drawing his hand, and changing 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 rapidity of lightning ; and, at the same moment, with one turn of her hand, braided her length of locks into a natural 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 expression had given place to that of wild and restless vivacity, which was most common to them. Her eyes gleamed with more than their wonted fire, and her glances were more piercingly wild and unsettled than usual. To Julian's enquiry, she answered, by laying her hand on her heart— a motion by which she always indicated the 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 apartment and that to which Peveril now followed his mute guide ; yet, in going thither, he had time enough to suffer cruelly from 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 i8a PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. tender than those which belong to friendship. The misery which such a. passion was likely to occasion to a creature in her helpless situation, and actuated 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 con- duct himself towards Fenella, as to check such misplaced sentiments, if indeed she unhappily entertained them towards him. When they reached the Countess's apartment, they found her with writing implements, and many sealed letters, 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 seemed 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 been literally alone together. " Julian," 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 degeneracy 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 station." "Ay," replied the Countess; "but when will the call of duty prove superior to that of the most idle or trivial indulgence which can serve to drive over the lazy hour? His father was of another mould ; and how often was it my lot to entreat that he would spare, from the rigid discharge of those duties which his high station imposed, the relaxa- tion absolutely necessary to recruit his health and his spirits ! " " Still, my dearest lady," said Peveril, " you must allow, 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 depressed 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 appari- tion, from my place of concealment in your father's castle — it has pleased me to think you a true son of Stanley and Peveril. 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 your- self, but which, as times are circumstanced, no person is so well able to lender to my house." '• You have been ever my good and noble lady," answered Peveril, ' as well as my kind, and I may say maternal, protectress. You have PEVERIL OF THE PEAK. 183 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, " resemble more the dreams of a sick man, than the regular information which I might have expected from such correspondents 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 utterly incredible, and are only supported by the evidence of wretches, the meanest and most worthless in the creation ; yet it is received by the credulous people of England with the most undoubting belief." "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 increas- ing 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 Protestants. So far, I fear, there may be just cause for suspicion, that the Duke is a better Catholic than an Englishman, 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 fabrications of conspiracy and murder, blood and fire — the imaginary armies — the intended massa- cres — form a collection of falsehoods, that one would have thought indigestible, even by the coarse appetite of the vulgar for the marvel- lous and horrible ; but which are, nevertheless, received as truth by 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 affected by these wild reports ? " said Julian. " What say the English Catholics themselves ? — a numerous and wealthy body, comprising so many noble names ? " " Their hearts are dead within them," said the Countess. " They are like sheep penned up in the shambles, 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." ''But the King," said Pcveril, — "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, cither they have caught the general delirium which has seized on Protestants in general, or they stand aloof and neutral, afraid to show any interest in the unhappy Catholics, lest they be judged altogether such as them- i8