chamberlain was resumed, but in a tone too low to be overheard.

At length Mat Chamberlain spoke aloud, and with a tone of authority: "We undo no doors at this time of night, for it is against the Justice's orders, and might cost us our license; and for the Castle, the road up to it lies before you, and I think you know it as well as we do."

"And I know you," said Peveril, remounting his wearied horse, for an ungrateful churl, whom, on the first opportunity, I will cudgel to a mummy."

To this menace Matthew made no reply, and Peveril presently heard him leave the apartment, after a few earnest words betwixt him and his mistress.

Impatient at this delay, and at the evil omen implied in these people's conversation and deportment, Peveril, after some vain spurring of his horse, which positively refused to move a step farther, dismounted once more, and was about to pursue his journey on foot, notwithstanding the extreme disadvantage under which the high riding boots of the period laid those who attempted to walk with such incumbrances, when he was stopped by a gentle call from the window.

Her counsellor was no sooner gone, than the good-natured and habitual veneration of the dame for the house of Peveril, and perhaps some fear for her counsellor's bones, induced her to open the casement, and cry, but in a low and timid tone, "Hist! hist! Master Julian-be you gone?"

"Not yet, dame," said Julian; "though it seems my stay is unwelcome.”

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Nay, but good young master, it is because men counsel so differently; for here was my poor old Roger Raine would have thought the chimney corner too cold for you; and here is Mat Chamberlain thinks the cold court-yard is warm enough.”

"Never mind that, dame,” said Julian; "do but only tell me what has happened at Martindale Castle? I see the beacon is extinguished."

“Is it in troth?―ay, like enough-then good Sir Geoffrey is gone to Heaven with my old Roger Raine?"

"Sacred Heaven!" exclaimed Peveril; "when was my father taken ill?”

"Never, as I knows of," said the dame; " but, about three hours since, arrived a party at the Castle, with buff-coats and bandaliers, and one of the Parliament's folks, like in Oliver's time. My old Roger Raine would have shut the gates of the inn against them, but he is in the church-yard, and Mat says it is against law; and so they came in and refreshed men and horse, and sent for Master Bridgenorth, that is at Moultrassie Hall even now; and so they went up to the Castle, and there was a fray, it is like, as the old knight was no man to take napping, as poor Roger Raine used to say. Always the officers had the best on't; and reason there is, since they had law of their side, as our Matthew says. But since the pole-star of the Castle is out, as your honour says, why, doubtless, the old gentleman is dead."

"Gracious Heaven!-Dear dame, for love or gold, let me have a horse to make for the Castle."

"The Castle?" said the dame; "the Roundheads, as my poor Roger called them, will kill you as they have killed your father! Better creep into the wood-house, and I will send Bett with a blanket and some supper-Or stay-my old Dobbin stands in the little stable beside the hen-coop-e'en take him, and make the best of your way out of the country, for there is no safety here for you. Hear what songs some of them are singing at the tap!so take Dobbin, and do not forget to leave your own horse instead."

Peveril waited to hear no further, only, that just as he turned to go off to the stable, the compassionate female was heard to exclaim,-" O Lord! what will Mathew Chamberlain say?" but instantly added, "Let him say what he will, I may dispose of what's my own."

With the haste of a double-feed hostler did Julian exchange the equipments of his jaded brute with poor Dobbin, who stood quietly tugging at his rack full of hay, without dreaming of the business which was that night destined for him. Notwithstanding the darkness of the place, Julian succeeded marvellous quickly in preparing for his journey; and leaving his own horse to find its way to Dobbin's rack by instinct, he leaped upon his new acquisition, and spurred him sharply against the hill, which rises steeply from the village to the Castle. Dobbin, little accustomed to such exertions, snorted, panted, and trotted as briskly as he could, until at length he brought his rider before the entrance gate. of his father's ancient seat.

The moon was now rising, but the portal was hidden from its beams, being situated, as we have mentioned elsewhere, in a deep recess betwixt two large flanking towers. Peveril dismounted, turned his horse loose, and advanced to the gate, which, contrary to his expectation, he found was open. He entered the large court-yard; and could then perceive that lights yet twinkled in the lower part of the building, although he had not before observed them, owing to the height of the outward walls. The main door, or great hall gate, as it was called, was, since the partially decayed state of the family, seldom opened, save on occasions of particular ceremony. A smaller postern door served the purpose of ordinary entrance; and to that Julian now repaired. This also was open-a circumstance which would of itself have alarmed him, had he not VOL. II. -11

already had so many causes for apprehension. His heart sunk within him as he turned to the left,. through a small outward hall, towards the great parlour, which the family usually occupied as a sitting apartment; and his alarm became still greater, when, on a nearer approach, he heard proceeding from thence the murmur of several voices. He threw the door of the apartment wide, and the sight which was thus displayed, warranted all the evil bodings which he had entertained.

In front of him stood the old knight, whose arms were strongly secured, over the elbows, by a leathern belt drawn tight around them, and made fast behind; two ruffianly looking men, apparently his guards, had hold of his doublet. The scabbardless sword which lay on the floor, and the empty sheath which hung by Sir Geoffrey's side, showed the stout old Cavalier had not been reduced to this state of bondage without an attempt at resistance. Two or three persons, having their backs turned towards Julian, sat round a table, and appeared engaged in writing the voices which he had heard were theirs, as they murmured to each other. Lady Peverilthe emblem of death, so pallid was her countenance -stood at the distance of a yard or two from her husband, upon whom her eyes were fixed with an intenseness of gaze, like that of one who looks her last on the object which she loves the best. She was the first to perceive Julian; and she exclaimed, "Merciful Heaven!-my son!-the misery of our house is complete!"

"My son!" echoed Sir Geoffrey, starting from the sullen state of dejection; and swearing a deep oath" thou art come in the right time, Julian. Strike me one good blow-cleave me that traitorous thief from the crown to the brisket; and that done `I care not what comes next."

The sight of his father's situation made the son

forget the inequality of the contest which he was about to provoke.

"Villains," he said "unhand him!" and rushing on the guards with his drawn sword, compelled them to let go Sir Geoffrey, and stand on their own defence.

Sir Geoffrey, thus far liberated, shouted to his lady, "Undo the belt, dame, and we will have three good blows for it yet-they must fight well, that beat both father and son."

But one of those men who had started up from the writing-table when the fray commenced, prevented Lady Peveril from rendering her husband this assistance; while another easily mastered the hampered Knight, though not without receiving several severe kicks from his heavy boots-his condition permitting him no other mode of defence. A third, who saw that Julian, young, active, and animated with the fury of a son who fights for his parents, was compelling the two guard to give ground, seized on his collar, and attempted to master his sword. Suddenly dropping that weapon, and snatching one of his pistols, Julian fired it at the head of the person by whom he was thus assailed. He did not drop, but staggering back as if he had received a severe blow, showed Peveril, as he sunk into a chair, the features of old Bridgenorth, blackened with the explosion, which had even set fire to a part of his gray hair. A cry of astonishment escaped from Julian; and in the alarm and horror of the moment, he was easily secured and disarmed by those with whom he had been at first engaged.

"Heed it not, Julian," said Sir Geoffrey; "heed it not, my brave boy-that shot has balanced all accompts! But how-what the devil-he lives!Was your pistol loaded with chaff? or has the foul fiend given him proof against lead?”