Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XI

  Mona--long hid from those who roam the main. --COLLINS.

  The Isle of Man, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was verydifferent, as a place of residence, from what it is now. Men had notthen discovered its merit as a place of occasional refuge from thestorms of life, and the society to be there met with was of a veryuniform tenor. There were no smart fellows, whom fortune had tumbledfrom the seat of their barouches--no plucked pigeons or winged rooks--nodisappointed speculators--no ruined miners--in short, no one worthtalking to. The society of the island was limited to the nativesthemselves, and a few merchants, who lived by contraband trade. Theamusements were rare and monotonous, and the mercurial young Earl wassoon heartily tired of his dominions. The islanders, also, becometoo wise for happiness, had lost relish for the harmless and somewhatchildish sports in which their simple ancestors had indulged themselves.May was no longer ushered in by the imaginary contest between theQueen of returning winter and advancing spring; the listeners no longersympathised with the lively music of the followers of the one, or thediscordant sounds with which the other asserted a more noisy claim toattention. Christmas, too, closed, and the steeples no longer jangledforth a dissonant peal. The wren, to seek for which used to be the sportdedicated to the holytide, was left unpursued and unslain. Party spirithad come among these simple people, and destroyed their good humour,while it left them their ignorance. Even the races, a sport generallyinteresting to people of all ranks, were no longer performed, becausethey were no longer interesting. The gentlemen were divided by feudshitherto unknown, and each seemed to hold it scorn to be pleased withthe same diversions that amused those of the opposite faction. Thehearts 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 vindictively executed,started horses to add to the amusement.

  Julian was seated in the deep recess which led to a latticed windowof the old Castle; and, with his arms crossed, and an air of profoundcontemplation, was surveying the long perspective of ocean, which rolledits successive waves up to the foot of the rock on which the ancientpile is founded. The Earl was suffering under the infliction ofennui--now looking into a volume of Homer--now whistling--now swingingon his chair--now traversing the room--till, at length, his attentionbecame swallowed up in admiration of the tranquillity of his companion.

  "King of Men!" he said, repeating the favourite epithet by which Homerdescribes Agamemnon,--"I trust, for the old Greek's sake, he had amerrier office than being King of Man--Most philosophical Julian, willnothing 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 inyour 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 realSovereign?--I wonder you can give me such counsel."

  "Your mother, as you well know, my dear Derby, would be delighted, didyou take any interest in the affairs of the island."

  "Ay, truly, she would permit me to be King; but she would choose toremain Viceroy over me. Why, she would only gain a subject the more,by my converting my spare time, which is so very valuable to me, to thecares of royalty. No, no, Julian, she thinks it power, to direct allthe affairs of these poor Manxmen; and, thinking it power, she finds itpleasure. I shall not interfere, unless she hold a high court ofjustice again. I cannot afford to pay another fine to my brother, KingCharles--But I forget--this is a sore point with you."

  "With the Countess, at least," replied Julian; "and I wonder you willspeak of it."

  "Why, I bear no malice against the poor man's memory any more thanyourself, though I have not the same reasons for holding it inveneration," replied the Earl of Derby; "and yet I have some respectfor it too. I remember their bringing him out to die--It was the firstholiday I ever had in my life, and I heartily wish it had been on someother account."

  "I would rather hear you speak of anything else, my lord," said Julian.

  "Why, there it goes," answered the Earl; "whenever I talk of anythingthat puts you on your mettle, and warms your blood, that runs as cold asa merman's--to use a simile of this happy island--hey pass! you press meto change the subject.--Well, what shall we talk of?--O Julian, if youhad not gone down to earth yourself among the castles and cavernsof Derbyshire, we should have had enough of delicious topics--theplay-houses, Julian--Both the King's house and the Duke's--Louis'sestablishment is a jest to them;--and the Ring in the Park, which beatsthe Corso at Naples--and the beauties, who beat the whole world!"

  "I am very willing to hear you speak on the subject, my lord," answeredJulian; "the less I have seen of London world myself, the more I amlikely to be amused by your account of it."

  "Ay, my friend--but where to begin?--with the wit of Buckingham, andSedley, and Etherege, or with the grace of Harry Jermyn--the courtesyof the Duke of Monmouth, or with the loveliness of La Belle Hamilton--ofthe Duchess of Richmond--of Lady ----, the person of Roxalana, the smarthumour of Mrs. Nelly----"

  "Or what say you to the bewitching sorceries of Lady Cynthia?" demandedhis companion.

  "Faith, I would have kept these to myself," said the Earl, "to followyour prudent example. But since you ask me, I fairly own I cannot tellwhat to say of them; only I think of them twenty times as often as allthe beauties I have spoken of. And yet she is neither the twentieth partso beautiful as the plainest of these Court beauties, nor so witty asthe dullest I have named, nor so modish--that is the great matter--asthe most obscure. I cannot tell what makes me dote on her, except thatshe is a capricious as her whole sex put together."

  "That I should think a small recommendation," answered his companion.

  "Small, do you term it," replied the Earl, "and write yourself a brotherof the angle? Why, which like you best? to pull a dead strain on amiserable gudgeon, which you draw ashore by main force, as the fellowshere tow in their fishing-boats--or a lively salmon, that makes yourrod crack, and your line whistle--plays you ten thousand mischievouspranks--wearies your heart out with hopes and fears--and is only laidpanting on the bank, after you have shown the most unmatchable displayof skill, patience, and dexterity?--But I see you have a mind to goon angling after your own old fashion. Off laced coat, and on brownjerkin;--lively colours scare fish in the sober waters of the Isle ofMan;--faith, in London you will catch few, unless the bait glistens alittle. But you _are_ going?--Well, good luck to you. I will take tothe barge;--the sea and wind are less inconstant than the tide you haveembarked 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 LadyCynthia be of my mind. Adieu, and pleasure till we meet."

  The young men parted accordingly; and while the Earl betook him to hispleasure voyage, Julian, as his friend had prophesied, assumed the dressof one who means to amuse himself with angling. The hat and feather wereexchanged for a cap of grey cloth; the deeply-laced cloak and doubletfor a simple jacket of the same colour, with hose conforming; andfinally, with rod in hand, and pannier at his back, mounted upon ahandsome Manx pony, young Peveril rode briskly over the country whichdivided him from one of those beautiful streams that descend to the seafrom 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 situation,followed him like a dog; and now and then, when tired of picking herbagein the valley through which the stream winded, came near her master'sside, and, as if she had been a curious amateur of the sport, gazed onthe trouts as Julian brought them struggling to the shore. But Fairy'smaster showed, on that day, little of the patience of a real angler, andtook no heed to old Isaac Walton's recommendation, to fish the streamsinch by inch. He chose, indeed, with an angler's eye,
the most promisingcasts, which the stream broke sparkling over a stone, affording thewonted shelter to a trout; or where, gliding away from a ripplingcurrent to a still eddy it streamed under the projecting bank, or dashedfrom the pool of some low cascade. By this judicious selection of spotswhereon to employ his art, the sportsman's basket was soon sufficientlyheavy, to show that his occupation was not a mere pretext; and so soonas this was the case, he walked briskly up the glen, only making acast from time to time, in case of his being observed from any of theneighbouring 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 thatit was occasionally traversed, and that it was not altogether void ofinhabitants. As Peveril advanced still farther, the right bank reachedto some distance from the stream, leaving a piece of meadow ground, thelower part of which, being close to the brook, was entirely covered withrich herbage, being possibly occasionally irrigated by its overflow. Thehigher part of the level ground afforded a stance for an old house, ofsingular structure, with a terraced garden, and a cultivated field ortwo beside it. In former times, a Danish or Norwegian fastness had stoodhere, called the Black Fort, from the colour of a huge healthy hill,which, rising behind the building, appeared to be the boundary ofthe valley, and to afford the source of the brook. But the originalstructure had been long demolished, as, indeed, it probably onlyconsisted of dry stones, and its materials had been applied to theconstruction of the present mansion--the work of some churchman duringthe sixteenth century, as was evident from the huge stone-work of itswindows, which scarce left room for light to pass through, as well asfrom two or three heavy buttresses, which projected from the front ofthe house, and exhibited on their surface little niches for images.These had been carefully destroyed, and pots of flowers were placed inthe niches in their stead, besides their being ornamented by creepingplants of various kinds, fancifully twined around them. The garden wasalso in good order; and though the spot was extremely solitary, therewas about it altogether an air of comfort, accommodation, and evenelegance, by no means generally characteristic of the habitations of theisland at the time.

  With much circumspection, Julian Peveril approached the low Gothicporch, which defended the entrance of the mansion from the tempestsincident to its situation, and was, like the buttresses, overrun withivy and other creeping plants. An iron ring, contrived so as when drawnup and down to rattle against the bar of notched iron through which itwas suspended, served the purpose of a knocker; and to this he appliedhimself, though with the greatest precaution.

  He received no answer for some time, and indeed it seemed as if thehouse was totally uninhabited; when, at length, his impatience gettingthe upper hand, he tried to open the door, and, as it was only uponthe latch, very easily succeeded. He passed through a little low-archedhall, the upper end of which was occupied by a staircase, and turningto the left, opened the door of a summer parlour, wainscoted withblack oak, and very simply furnished with chairs and tables of the samematerials; the former cushioned with the leather. The apartment wasgloomy--one of those stone-shafted windows which we have mentioned, withits small latticed panes, and thick garland of foliage, admitting but animperfect light.

  Over the chimneypiece (which was of the same massive materials withthe panelling of the apartment) was the only ornament of the room; apainting, namely, representing an officer in the military dress of theCivil Wars. It was a green jerkin, then the national and peculiar wearof the Manxmen; his short band which hung down on the cuirass--theorange-coloured scarf, but, above all, the shortness of his close-cuthair, 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 heheld a small Bible, bearing the inscription, "_In hoc signo_." Thecountenance was of a light complexion, with fair and almost effeminateblue eyes, and an oval form of face--one of those physiognomies, towhich, though not otherwise unpleasing, we naturally attach the idea ofmelancholy and of misfortune.[*] Apparently it was well known to JulianPeveril; for after having looked at it for a long time, he could notforbear muttering aloud, "What would I give that that man had never beenborn, or that he still lived!"

  [*] I am told that a portrait of the unfortunate William Christian is still preserved in the family of Waterson of Ballnabow of Kirk Church, Rushin. William Dhone is dressed in a green coat without collar or cape, after the fashion of those puritanic times, with the head in a close cropt wig, resembling the bishop's peruke of the present day. The countenance is youthful and well-looking, very unlike the expression of foreboding melancholy. I have so far taken advantage of this criticism, as to bring my ideal portrait in the present edition, nearer to the complexion at least of the fair-haired William Dhone.

  "How now--how is this?" said a female, who entered the room as heuttered this reflection. "_You_ here, Master Peveril, in spite of allthe warnings you have had! You here in the possession of folk's housewhen they are abroad, and talking to yourself, as I shall warrant!"

  "Yes, Mistress Deborah," said Peveril, "I am here once more, as yousee, against every prohibition, and in defiance of all danger.--Where isAlice?"

  "Where you will never see her, Master Julian--you may satisfy yourselfof that," answered Mistress Deborah, for it was that respectablegovernante; and sinking down at the same time upon one of the largeleathern chairs, she began to fan herself with her handkerchief, andcomplain of the heat in a most ladylike fashion.

  In fact, Mistress Debbitch, while her exterior intimated a considerablechange of condition for the better, and her countenance showed the lessfavourable effects of the twenty years which had passed over her head,was in mind and manners very much what she had been when she battledthe opinions of Madam Ellesmere at Martindale Castle. In a word, shewas self-willed, obstinate, and coquettish as ever, otherwise noill-disposed person. Her present appearance was that of a woman of thebetter rank. From the sobriety of the fashion of her dress, and theuniformity of its colours, it was plain she belonged to some sect whichcondemned superfluous gaiety in attire; but no rules, not those of anunnery or of a quaker's society, can prevent a little coquetry in thatparticular, where a woman is desirous of being supposed to retain someclaim to personal attention. All Mistress Deborah's garments were soarranged as might best set off a good-looking woman, whose countenanceindicated ease and good cheer--who called herself five-and-thirty, andwas well entitled, if she had a mind, to call herself twelve or fifteenyears older.

  Julian was under the necessity of enduring all her tiresome andfantastic airs, and awaiting with patience till she had "prinkedherself and pinned herself"--flung her hoods back, and drawn themforward--snuffed at a little bottle of essences--closed her eyes like adying fowl--turned them up like duck in a thunderstorm; when at length,having exhausted her round of _minauderies_, she condescended to openthe conversation.

  "These walks will be the death of me," she said, "and all on youraccount, Master Julian Peveril; for if Dame Christian should learn thatyou have chosen to make your visits to her niece, I promise you MistressAlice 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 makeyourself known to me the very first time I strolled up this glen with myfishing-rod, and tell me that you were my former keeper, and that Alicehad been my little playfellow? And what could there be more natural,than that I should come back and see two such agreeable persons as oftenas 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; "butwhat of that? Such things will come out before one is aware. I am sureyou must have heard such proposals fifty times when you least expectedthem."

  "Fie, fie, fie, Master Julian Peveril," said the governante; "I wouldhave you to kno
w that I have always so behaved myself, that the best ofthe land would have thought twice of it, and have very well consideredboth what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it, before hecame out with such proposals to me."

  "True, true, Mistress Deborah," continued Julian; "but all the worldhath not your discretion. Then Alice Bridgenorth is a child--a merechild; and one always asks a baby to be one's little wife, you know.Come, I know you will forgive me. Thou wert ever the best-natured,kindest woman in the world; and you know you have said twenty times wewere made for each other."

  "Oh no, Master Julian Peveril; no, no, no!" ejaculated Deborah. "I mayindeed have said your estates were born to be united; and to be sure itis natural for me, that come of the old stock of the yeomanry of Peverilof the Peak's estate, to wish that it was all within the ringfence again; which sure enough it might be, were you to marry AliceBridgenorth. But then there is the knight your father, and my lady yourmother; and there is her father, that is half crazy with his religion;and her aunt that wears eternal black grogram for that unlucky ColonelChristian; and there is the Countess of Derby, that would serve us allwith the same sauce if we were thinking of anything that would displeaseher. And besides all that, you have broke your word with Mistress Alice,and everything is over between you; and I am of opinion it is quiteright it should be all over. And perhaps it may be, Master Julian, thatI should have thought so a long time ago, before a child like Alice putit into my head; but I am so good-natured."

  No flatterer like a lover, who wishes to carry his point.

  "You are the best-natured, kindest creature in the world, Deborah.--Butyou have never seen the ring I bought for you at Paris. Nay, I willput it on your finger myself;--what! your foster-son, whom you loved sowell, and took such care of?"

  He easily succeeded in putting a pretty ring of gold, with a humorousaffectation of gallantry, on the fat finger of Mistress DeborahDebbitch. Hers was a soul of a kind often to be met with, both amongthe lower and higher vulgar, who, without being, on a broad scale,accessible to bribes or corruption, are nevertheless much attached toperquisites, and considerably biassed in their line of duty, thoughperhaps insensibly, by the love of petty observances, petty presents,and trivial compliments. Mistress Debbitch turned the ring round, andround, and round, and at length said, in a whisper, "Well, Master JulianPeveril, it signifies nothing denying anything to such a young gentlemanas you, for young gentlemen are always so obstinate! and so I may aswell tell you, that Mistress Alice walked back from the Kirk-Truaghalong with me, just now, and entered the house at the same time withmyself."

  "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 DameDeborah; "for, I promise you, it is against her express commands; andI would not have told you, had you not looked so pitiful;--but as forseeing you, that she will not--and she is in her own bedroom, with agood oak door shut and bolted upon her--that is one comfort.--And so, asfor any breach of trust on my part--I promise you the little saucy minxgives it no less name--it is quite impossible."

  "Do not say so, Deborah--only go--only try--tell her to hear me--tellher I have a hundred excuses for disobeying her commands--tell her Ihave 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 yourcap and rod lying in the hall, I did but say, 'There he is again,' andshe ran up the stairs like a young deer; and I heard key turned, andbolt shot, ere I could say a single word to stop her--I marvel you heardher not."

  "It was because I am, as I ever was, an owl--a dreaming fool, who letall those golden minutes pass, which my luckless life holds out to meso rarely.--Well--tell her I go--go for ever--go where she will hear nomore of me--where no one shall hear more of me!"

  "Oh, the Father!" said the dame, "hear how he talks!--What will becomeof Sir Geoffrey, and your mother, and of me, and of the Countess, if youwere to go so far as you talk of? And what would become of poor Alicetoo? for I will be sworn she likes you better than she says, and I knowshe used to sit and look the way that you used to come up the stream,and now and then ask me if the morning were good for fishing. And allthe while you were on the continent, as they call it, she scarcelysmiled once, unless it was when she got two beautiful long letters aboutforeign parts."

  "Friendship, Dame Deborah--only friendship--cold and calm remembranceof one who, by your kind permission, stole in on your solitude nowand then, with news from the living world without--Once, indeed, Ithought--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 becameunable to withstand the sight of his affliction.

  "Now, do not be in such haste," she said; "I will go up again, and tellher how it stands with you, and bring her down, if it is in woman'spower to do it."

  And so saying, she left the apartment, and ran upstairs.

  Julian Peveril, meanwhile, paced the apartment in great agitation,waiting the success of Deborah's intercession; and she remained longenough absent to give us time to explain, in a short retrospect, thecircumstances which had led to his present situation.