Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

  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 ESTMERE.

  Julian's first encounter, after re-entering the Castle, was with itsyoung Lord, who received him with his usual kindness and lightness ofhumour.

  "Thrice welcome, Sir Knight of Dames," said the Earl; "here you rovegallantly, and at free will, through our dominions, fulfilling ofappointments, and achieving amorous adventures; while we are condemnedto sit in our royal halls, as dull and as immovable as if our Majestywas carved on the stern of some Manx smuggling dogger, and christenedthe King Arthur of Ramsey."

  "Nay, in that case you would take the sea," said Julian, "and so enjoytravel and adventure enough."

  "Oh, but suppose me wind-bound, or detained in harbour by a revenuepink, 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 havenot equalled mine."

  "I am happy to hear, at least, that you have had no disagreeableemployment," said Julian; "the morning's alarm has blown over, Isuppose?"

  "In faith it has, Julian; and our close inquiries cannot find any causefor the apprehended insurrection. That Bridgenorth is in the islandseems certain; but private affairs of consequence are alleged as thecause of his visit; and I am not desirous to have him arrested unless Icould prove some malpractices against him and his companions. In fact,it would seem we had taken the alarm too soon. My mother speaks ofconsulting you on the subject, Julian; and I will not anticipate hersolemn communication. It will be partly apologetical, I suppose; for webegin to think our retreat rather unroyal, and that, like the wicked, wehave fled when no man pursued. This idea afflicts my mother, who, as aQueen-Dowager, a Queen-Regent, a heroine, and a woman in general, wouldbe extremely mortified to think that her precipitate retreat hither hadexposed her to the ridicule of the islanders; and she is disconcertedand out of humour accordingly. In the meanwhile, my sole amusement hasbeen the grimaces and fantastic gestures of that ape Fenella, who ismore out of humour, and more absurd, in consequence, than you ever sawher. Morris says, it is because you pushed her downstairs, Julian--howis 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, tocontest my going abroad in such an obstinate manner, that I had no othermode of getting rid of her."

  "She must have supposed your departure, at a moment so critical, wasdangerous to the state of our garrison," answered the Earl; "it showshow dearly she esteems my mother's safety, how highly she rates yourprowess. But, thank Heaven, there sounds the dinner-bell. I would thephilosophers, who find a sin and waste of time in good cheer, coulddevise us any pastime half so agreeable."

  The meal which the young Earl had thus longed for, as a means ofconsuming a portion of the time which hung heavy on his hands, was soonover; as soon, at least, as the habitual and stately formality ofthe Countess's household permitted. She herself, accompanied by hergentlewomen and attendants, retired early after the tables were drawn;and the young gentlemen were left to their own company. Wine had, forthe moment, no charms for either; for the Earl was out of spirits fromennui, and impatience of his monotonous and solitary course of life; andthe events of the day had given Peveril too much matter for reflection,to permit his starting amusing or interesting topics of conversation.After having passed the flask in silence betwixt them once or twice,they withdrew each to a separate embrasure of the windows of the diningapartment, which, such was the extreme thickness of the wall, were deepenough to afford a solitary recess, separated, as it were, from thechamber itself. In one of these sat the Earl of Derby, busied in lookingover some of the new publications which had been forwarded from London;and at intervals confessing how little power or interest these had forhim, by yawning fearfully as he looked out on the solitary expanseof waters, which, save from the flight of a flock of sea-gulls, ora solitary cormorant, offered so little of variety to engage hisattention.

  Peveril, on his part, held a pamphlet also in his hand, without giving,or affecting to give it, even his occasional attention. His wholesoul turned upon the interview which he had had that day with AliceBridgenorth, and with her father; while he in vain endeavoured to formany hypothesis which could explain to him why the daughter, to whom hehad no reason to think himself indifferent, should have been so suddenlydesirous of their eternal separation, while her father, whose oppositionhe so much dreaded, seemed to be at least tolerant of his addresses. Hecould only suppose, in explanation, that Major Bridgenorth had someplan in prospect, which it was in his own power to farther or to impede;while, from the demeanour, and indeed the language, of Alice, he hadbut too much reason to apprehend that her father's favour could only beconciliated by something, on his own part, approaching to dereliction ofprinciple. But by no conjecture which he could form, could he makethe least guess concerning the nature of that compliance, of whichBridgenorth seemed desirous. He could not imagine, notwithstanding Alicehad spoken of treachery, that her father would dare to propose to himuniting in any plan by which the safety of the Countess, or the securityof her little kingdom of Man, was to be endangered. This carried suchindelible disgrace in the front, that he could not suppose the schemeproposed 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 sucha proceeding was totally inconsistent with the conduct of MajorBridgenorth in every other respect, besides his being too calm andcold-blooded to permit of his putting a mortal affront upon the son ofhis old neighbour, to whose mother he confessed so much of obligation.

  While Peveril in vain endeavoured to extract something like aprobable theory out of the hints thrown out by the father and bythe daughter--not without the additional and lover-like labour ofendeavouring to reconcile his passion to his honour and conscience--hefelt something gently pull him by the cloak. He unclasped his arms,which, in meditation, had been folded on his bosom; and withdrawing hiseyes from the vacant prospect of sea-coast and sea which they perused,without much consciousness upon what they rested, he beheld besidehim the little dumb maiden, the elfin Fenella. She was seated on a lowcushion or stool, 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 remainingunnoticed, she at length solicited his attention in the manner which wehave described. Startled out of his reverie by this intimation of herpresence, he looked down, and could not, without interest, behold thissingular and helpless being.

  Her hair was unloosened, and streamed over her shoulders in such length,that much of it lay upon the ground, and in such quantity, that itformed a dark veil, or shadow, not only around her face, but over herwhole slender and minute form. From the profusion of her tresses lookedforth her small and dark, but well-formed features, together with thelarge and brilliant black eyes; and her whole countenance was composedinto the imploring look of one who is doubtful of the reception she isabout to meet with from a valued friend, while she confesses a fault,pleads an apology, or solicits a reconciliation. In short, the wholeface was so much alive with expression, that Julian, though her aspectwas so familiar to him, could hardly persuade himself but that hercountenance was entirely new. The wild, fantastic, elvish vivacityof the features, seemed totally vanished, and had given place to asorrowful, tender, and pathetic cast of countenance, aided by theexpression of the large dark eyes, which, as they were turned up towardsJulian, glistened with moisture, that, nevertheless, did not overflowthe eyelids.

  Conceiving that her unwonted manner arose from a recollection of thedispute which had taken place betwixt them in the morning, Peveril wasanxious to restore the little maiden's gaiety, by making her sensiblethat there dwelt on his mind no unpleasing recollection of theirquarrel. He smiled kindly, and shook
her hand in one of his; while, withthe familiarity of one who had known her from childhood, he strokeddown her long dark tresses with the other. She stooped her head, as ifashamed, and, at the same time, gratified with his caresses--and he wasthus induced to continue them, until, under the veil of her rich andabundant locks, he suddenly felt his other hand, which she still held inhers, slightly touched with her lips, and, at the same time, moistenedwith a tear.

  At once, and for the first time in his life, the danger of beingmisinterpreted in his familiarity with a creature to whom the usualmodes of explanation were a blank, occurred to Julian's mind; and,hastily withdrawing his hand, and changing his posture, he asked her,by a sign which custom had rendered familiar, whether she brought anymessage to him from the Countess. She started up, and arranged herselfin 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 naturalhead-dress of the most beautiful kind. There was, indeed, when shelooked up, a blush still visible on her dark features; but theirmelancholy and languid expression had given place to that of wild andrestless vivacity, which was most common to them. Her eyes gleamed withmore than their wonted fire, and her glances were more piercingly wildand unsettled than usual. To Julian's inquiry, she answered, by layingher hand on her heart--a motion by which she always indicated theCountess--and rising, and taking the direction of her apartment, shemade a sign to Julian to follow her.

  The distance was not great betwixt the dining apartment and that towhich Peveril now followed his mute guide; yet, in going thither, hehad time enough to suffer cruelly from the sudden suspicion, that thisunhappy girl had misinterpreted the uniform kindness with which he hadtreated her, and hence come to regard him with feelings more tender thanthose which belong to friendship. The misery which such a passion waslikely to occasion to a creature in her helpless situation, and actuatedby such lively feelings, was great enough to make him refuse credit tothe suspicion which pressed itself upon his mind; while, at the sametime, he formed the internal resolution so to conduct himself towardsFenella, as to check such misplaced sentiments, if indeed she unhappilyentertained them towards him.

  When they reached the Countess's apartment, they found her with writingimplements, and many sealed letters before her. She received Julian withher usual kindness; and having caused him to be seated, beckoned tothe mute to resume her needle. In an instant Fenella was seated atan embroidering-frame; where, but for the movement of her dexterousfingers, she might have seemed a statue, so little did she move from herwork either head or eye. As her infirmity rendered her presence no barto the most confidential conversation, the Countess proceeded to addressPeveril as if they had been literally alone together.

  "Julian," she said, "I am not now about to complain to you of thesentiments and conduct of Derby. He is your friend--he is my son. He haskindness of heart and vivacity of talent; and yet----"

  "Dearest lady," said Peveril, "why will you distress yourself withfixing your eye on deficiencies which arise rather from a change oftimes and manners, than any degeneracy of my noble friend? Let him beonce engaged in his duty, whether in peace or war, and let me pay thepenalty if he acquits not himself becoming his high station."

  "Ay," replied the Countess; "but when will the call of duty provesuperior to that of the most idle or trivial indulgence which can serveto drive over the lazy hour? His father was of another mould; and howoften was it my lot to entreat that he would spare, from the rigiddischarge of those duties which his high station imposed, the relaxationabsolutely necessary to recruit his health and his spirits!"

  "Still, my dearest lady," said Peveril, "you must allow, that the dutiesto which the times summoned your late honoured lord, were of a morestirring, as well as a more peremptory cast, than those which await yourson."

  "I know not that," said the Countess. "The wheel appears to be againrevolving; and the present period is not unlikely to bring back suchscenes as my young years witnessed.--Well, be it so; they will not findCharlotte 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 asI issued forth to your childish eye, like an apparition, from my placeof concealment in your father's castle--it has pleased me to think you atrue son of Stanley and Peveril. I trust your nurture in this family hasbeen ever suited to the esteem in which I hold you.--Nay, I desire nothanks.--I have to require of you, in return, a piece of service,not perhaps entirely safe to yourself, but which, as times arecircumstanced, no person is so well able to render to my house."

  "You have been ever my good and noble lady," answered Peveril, "as wellas my kind, and I may say maternal, protectress. You have a right tocommand the blood of Stanley in the veins of every one--You have athousand rights to command it in mine."[*]

  [*] The reader cannot have forgotten that the Earl of Derby was head of the great house of Stanley.

  "My advices from England," said the Countess, "resemble more the dreamsof a sick man, than the regular information which I might have expectedfrom such correspondents as mine;--their expressions are like those ofmen who walk in their sleep, and speak by snatches of what passes intheir dreams. It is said, a plot, real or fictitious, has been detectedamong the Catholics, which has spread far wider and more uncontrollableterror than that of the fifth of November. Its outlines seem utterlyincredible, and are only supported by the evidence of wretches, themeanest and most worthless in the creation; yet it is received by thecredulous 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. "Ihave long feared that the well-meant zeal of our priests for increasingconverts, would draw on them the suspicion of the English nation. Theseefforts have been renewed with double energy since the Duke of Yorkconformed to the Catholic faith; and the same event has doubled the hateand jealousy of the Protestants. So far, I fear, there may be just causeof suspicion, that the Duke is a better Catholic than an Englishman,and that bigotry has involved him, as avarice, or the needy greed ofa prodigal, has engaged his brother, in relations with France, whereofEngland may have too much reason to complain. But the gross, thick,and palpable fabrications of conspiracy and murder, blood and fire--theimaginary armies--the intended massacres--form a collection offalsehoods, that one would have thought indigestible, even by the coarseappetite of the vulgar for the marvellous and horrible; but whichare, nevertheless, received as truth by both Houses of Parliament, andquestioned by no one who is desirous to escape the odious appellation offriend to the bloody Papists, and favourer of their infernal schemes ofcruelty."

  "But what say those who are most likely to be affected by these wildreports?" said Julian. "What say the English Catholics themselves?--anumerous and wealthy body, comprising so many noble names?"

  "Their hearts are dead within them," said the Countess. "They are likesheep penned up in the shambles, that the butcher may take his choiceamong them. In the obscure and brief communications which I have had bya secure hand, they do but anticipate their own utter ruin, and ours--sogeneral is the depression, so universal the despair."

  "But the King," said Peveril,--"the King and the ProtestantRoyalists--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 themost innocent men in his dominions, rather than lose an hour of pleasurein attempting their rescue. And, for the Royalists, either they havecaught the general delirium which has seized on Protestants in general,or they stand aloof and neutral, afraid to show any interest in theunhappy Catholics, lest they be judged altogether such as themselves,and abettors of the fearful conspiracy in which they are alleged to beengaged. In fact, I cannot blame them. It is hard to expect that merecompassion for a persecuted sect--or, what is yet more rare, an abstrac
tlove of justice--should be powerful enough to engage men to exposethemselves to the awakened fury of a whole people; for, in the presentstate of general agitation, whoever disbelieves the least tittle of theenormous improbabilities which have been accumulated by these wretchedreformers, is instantly hunted down, as one who would smother thediscovery of the Plot. It is indeed an awful tempest; and, remote as welie from its sphere, we must expect soon to feel its effects."

  "Lord Derby already told me something of this," said Julian; "andthat there were agents in this island whose object was to exciteinsurrection."

  "Yes," answered the Countess, and her eye flashed fire as she spoke;"and had my advice been listened to, they had been apprehended in thevery fact; and so dealt with, as to be a warning to all others how theysought this independent principality on such an errand. But my son, whois generally so culpably negligent of his own affairs, was pleased toassume the management of them upon this crisis."

  "I am happy to learn, madam," answered Peveril, "that the measures ofprecaution which my kinsman has adopted, have had the complete effect ofdisconcerting the conspiracy."

  "For the present, Julian; but they should have been such as would havemade the boldest tremble to think of such infringement of our rights infuture. But Derby's present plan is fraught with greater danger; and yetthere is something in it of gallantry, which has my sympathy."

  "What is it, madam?" inquired Julian anxiously; "and in what can I aidit, or avert its dangers?"

  "He purposes," said the Countess, "instantly to set forth for London. Heis, he says, not merely the feudal chief of a small island, but one ofthe noble Peers of England, who must not remain in the security of anobscure and distant castle, when his name, or that of his mother, isslandered before his Prince and people. He will take his place, he says,in the House of Lords, and publicly demand justice for the insult thrownon his house, by perjured and interested witnesses."

  "It is a generous resolution, and worthy of my friend," said JulianPeveril. "I will go with him and share his fate, be it what it may."

  "Alas, foolish boy!" answered the Countess, "as well may you ask ahungry lion to feel compassion, as a prejudiced and furious people to dojustice. They are like the madman at the height of frenzy, who murderswithout compunction his best and dearest friend; and only wonders andwails over his own cruelty, when he is recovered from his delirium."

  "Pardon me, dearest lady," said Julian, "this cannot be. The noble andgenerous people of England cannot be thus strangely misled. Whateverprepossessions may be current among the more vulgar, the House ofLegislature cannot be deeply infected by them--they will remember theirown dignity."

  "Alas! cousin," answered the Countess, "when did Englishmen, even of thehighest degree, remember anything, when hurried away by the violenceof party feeling? Even those who have too much sense to believe inthe incredible fictions which gull the multitude, will beware how theyexpose them, if their own political party can gain a momentary advantageby their being accredited. It is amongst such, too, that your kinsmanhas found friends and associates. Neglecting the old friends of hishouse, as too grave and formal companions for the humour of the times,his intercourse has been with the versatile Shaftesbury--the mercurialBuckingham--men who would not hesitate to sacrifice to the popularMoloch of the day, whatsoever or whomsoever, whose ruin could propitiatethe deity.--Forgive a mother's tears, kinsman; but I see the scaffoldat Bolton again erected. If Derby goes to London while these bloodhoundsare in full cry, obnoxious as he is, and I have made him by my religiousfaith, and my conduct in this island, he dies his father's death. Andyet upon what other course to resolve!----"

  "Let me go to London, madam," said Peveril, much moved by the distressof his patroness; "your ladyship was wont to rely something on myjudgment. I will act for the best--will communicate with those whomyou point out to me, and only with them; and I trust soon to send youinformation that this delusion, however strong it may now be, is in thecourse of passing away; at the worst, I can apprise you of the danger,should it menace the Earl or yourself; and may be able also to point outthe means by which it may be eluded."

  The Countess listened with a countenance in which the anxiety ofmaternal affection, which prompted her to embrace Peveril's generousoffer, struggled with her native disinterested and generous disposition."Think what you ask of me, Julian," she replied with a sigh. "Would youhave me expose the life of my friend's son to those perils to which Irefuse my own?--No, never!"

  "Nay, but madam," replied Julian, "I do not run the same risk--my personis not known in London--my situation, though not obscure in my owncountry, is too little known to be noticed in that huge assemblage ofall that is noble and wealthy. No whisper, I presume, however indirect,has connected my name with the alleged conspiracy. I am a Protestant,above all; and can be accused of no intercourse, direct or indirect,with the Church of Rome. My connections also lie amongst those, who, ifthey do not, or cannot, befriend me, cannot, at least, be dangerous tome. In a word, I run no danger where the Earl might incur great peril."

  "Alas!" said the Countess of Derby, "all this generous reasoning may betrue; but it could only be listened to by a widowed mother. Selfish asI am, I cannot but reflect that my kinswoman has, in all events, thesupport of an affectionate husband--such is the interested reasoning towhich we are not ashamed to subject our better feelings."

  "Do not call it so, madam," answered Peveril; "think of me as theyounger brother of my kinsman. You have ever done by me the duties ofa mother; and have a right to my filial service, were it at a risk tentimes greater than a journey to London, to inquire into the temper ofthe times. I will instantly go and announce my departure to the Earl."

  "Stay, Julian," said the Countess; "if you must make this journey in ourbehalf,--and, alas! I have not generosity enough to refuse your nobleproffer,--you must go alone, and without communication with Derby. Iknow him well; his lightness of mind is free from selfish baseness; andfor the world, would he not suffer you to leave Man without his company.And if he went with you, your noble and disinterested kindness would beof no avail--you would but share his ruin, as the swimmer who attemptsto save a drowning man is involved in his fate, if he permit thesufferer to grapple with him."

  "It shall be as you please, madam," said Peveril. "I am ready to departupon half-an-hour's notice."

  "This night, then," said the Countess, after a moment's pause--"thisnight I will arrange the most secret means of carrying your generousproject into effect; for I would not excite that prejudice against you,which will instantly arise, were it known you had so lately left thisisland, and its Popish lady. You will do well, perhaps, to use a feignedname in London."

  "Pardon me, madam," said Julian; "I will do nothing that can draw onme unnecessary attention; but to bear a feigned name, or affect anydisguise beyond living with extreme privacy, would, I think, beunwise as well as unworthy; and what, if challenged, I might find somedifficulty in assigning a reason for, consistent with perfect fairnessof intentions."

  "I believe you are right," answered the Countess, after a moment'sconsideration; and then added, "You propose, doubtless, to pass throughDerbyshire, and visit Martindale Castle?"

  "I should wish it, madam, certainly," replied Peveril, "did time permit,and circumstances render it advisable."

  "Of that," said the Countess, "you must yourself judge. Despatchis, doubtless, desirable; on the other hand, arriving from your ownfamily-seat, you will be less an object of doubt and suspicion, than ifyou posted up from hence, without even visiting your parents. Youmust be guided in this,--in all,--by your own prudence. Go, my dearestson--for to me you should be dear as a son--go, and prepare for yourjourney. I will get ready some despatches, and a supply of money--Nay,do not object. Am I not your mother; and are you not discharging a son'sduty? Dispute not my right of defraying your expenses. Nor is this all;for, as I must trust your zeal and prudence to act in our behalf whenoccasion shall demand, I will furnish you with effectual recommendationsto our friends and kindr
ed, entreating and enjoining them to renderwhatever aid you may require, either for your own protection, or theadvancement of what you may propose in our favour."

  Peveril made no farther opposition to an arrangement, which in truth themoderate state of his own finances rendered almost indispensable, unlesswith his father's assistance; and the Countess put into his hand billsof exchange to the amount of two hundred pounds, upon a merchant in thecity. She then dismissed Julian for the space of an hour; after which,she said, she must again require his presence.

  The preparations for his journey were not of a nature to divert thethoughts which speedily pressed on him. He found that half-an-hour'sconversation had once more completely changed his immediate prospectsand plans for the future. He had offered to the Countess of Derby aservice, which her uniform kindness had well deserved at his hand; but,by her accepting it, he was upon the point of being separated from AliceBridgenorth, at a time when she was become dearer to him than ever, byher avowal of mutual passion. Her image rose before him, such as he hadthat day pressed her to his bosom--her voice was in his ear, and seemedto ask whether he could desert her in the crisis which everything seemedto announce as impending. But Julian Peveril, his youth considered, wasstrict in judging his duty, and severely resolved in executing it. Hetrusted not his imagination to pursue the vision which presented itself;but resolutely seizing his pen, wrote to Alice the following letter,explaining his situation, as far as justice to the Countess permittedhim to do so:--

  "I leave you, dearest Alice," thus ran the letter.--"I leave you; and though, in doing so, I but obey the command you have laid on me, yet I can claim little merit for my compliance, since, without additional and most forcible reasons in aid of your orders, I fear I should have been unable to comply with them. But family affairs of importance compel me to absent myself from this island, for, I fear, more than one week. My thoughts, hopes, and wishes will be on the moment that shall restore me to the Black Fort, and its lovely valley. Let me hope that yours will sometimes rest on the lonely exile, whom nothing could render such, but the command of honour and duty. Do not fear that I mean to involve you in a private correspondence, and let not your father fear it. I could not love you so much, but for the openness and candour of your nature; and I would not that you concealed from Major Bridgenorth one syllable of what I now avow. Respecting other matters, he himself cannot desire the welfare of our common country with more zeal than I do. Differences may occur concerning the mode in which that is to be obtained; but, in the principle, I am convinced there can be only one mind between us; nor can I refuse to listen to his experience and wisdom, even where they may ultimately fail to convince me. Farewell--Alice, farewell! Much might be added to that melancholy word, but nothing that could express the bitterness with which it is written. Yet I could transcribe it again and again, rather than conclude the last communication which I can have with you for some time. My sole comfort is, that my stay will scarce be so long as to permit you to forget one who never can forget you."

  He held the paper in his hand for a minute after he had folded, butbefore he had sealed it, while he hurriedly debated in his own mindwhether he had not expressed himself towards Major Bridgenorth in soconciliating a manner as might excite hopes of proselytism, which hisconscience told him he could not realise with honour. Yet, on the otherhand, he had no right, from what Bridgenorth had said, to conclude thattheir principles were diametrically irreconcilable; for though the sonof a high Cavalier, and educated in the family of the Countess of Derby,he was himself, upon principle, an enemy of prerogative, and a friendto the liberty of the subject. And with such considerations, he silencedall internal objections on the point of honour; although his consciencesecretly whispered that these conciliatory expressions towards thefather were chiefly dictated by the fear, that during his absence MajorBridgenorth might be tempted to change the residence of his daughter,and perhaps to convey her altogether out of his reach.

  Having sealed his letter, Julian called his servant, and directed himto carry it under cover of one addressed to Mrs. Debbitch, to a house inthe town of Rushin, where packets and messages intended for the familyat Black Fort were usually deposited; and for that purpose to take horseimmediately. He thus got rid of an attendant, who might have been insome degree a spy on his motions. He then exchanged the dress he usuallywore for one more suited to travelling; and, having put a change or twoof linen into a small cloak-bag, selected as arms a strong double-edgedsword and an excellent pair of pistols, which last he carefully loadedwith double bullets. Thus appointed, and with twenty pieces in hispurse, and the bills we have mentioned secured in a private pocket-book,he was in readiness to depart as soon as he should receive theCountess's commands.

  The buoyant spirit of youth and hope, which had, for a moment, beenchilled by the painful and dubious circumstances in which he was placed,as well as the deprivation which he was about to undergo, now revived infull vigour. Fancy, turning from more painful anticipations, suggestedto him that he was now entering upon life, at a crisis when resolutionand talents were almost certain to make the fortune of their possessor.How could he make a more honourable entry on the bustling scene, thansent by, and acting in behalf of, one of the noblest houses in England;and should he perform what his charge might render incumbent withthe resolution and the prudence necessary to secure success, how manyoccurrences might take place to render his mediation necessary toBridgenorth; and thus enable him, on the most equal and honourableterms, to establish a claim to his gratitude and to his daughter's hand.

  Whilst he was dwelling on such pleasing, though imaginary prospects, hecould not help exclaiming aloud--"Yes, Alice, I will win thee nobly!"The words had scarce escaped his lips, when he heard at the door of hisapartment, which the servant had left ajar, a sound like a deep sigh,which was instantly succeeded by a gentle tap--"Come in," repliedJulian, somewhat ashamed of his exclamation, and not a little afraidthat it had been caught up by some eavesdropper--"Come in," he againrepeated; but his command was not obeyed; on the contrary, the knock wasrepeated somewhat louder. He opened the door, and Fenella stood beforehim.

  With eyes that seemed red with recent tears, and with a look of thedeepest dejection, the little mute, first touching her bosom, andbeckoning with her finger, made to him the usual sign that the Countessdesired to see him--then turned, as if to usher him to her apartment. Ashe followed her through the long gloomy vaulted passages which affordedcommunication betwixt the various apartments of the castle, he couldnot but observe that her usual light trip was exchanged for a tardyand mournful step, which she accompanied with low inarticulate moaning(which she was probably the less able to suppress, because she could notjudge how far it was audible), and also with wringing of the hands, andother marks of extreme affliction.

  At this moment a thought came across Peveril's mind, which, in spite ofhis better reason, made him shudder involuntarily. As a Peaksman, anda long resident in the Isle of Man, he was well acquainted with many asuperstitious legend, and particularly with a belief, which attachedto the powerful family of the Stanleys, for their peculiar demon, aBanshie, or female spirit, who was wont to shriek "foreboding eviltimes;" and who was generally seen weeping and bemoaning herself beforethe death of any person of distinction belonging to the family. For aninstant, Julian could scarcely divest himself of the belief that thewailing, jibbering form, which glided before him, with a lamp in herhand, was a genius of his mother's race, come to announce to him as ananalogous reflection, that if the suspicion which had crossed his mindconcerning Fenella was a just one, her ill-fated attachment to him,like that of the prophetic spirit to his family, could bode nothing butdisaster, and lamentation, and woe.