man knows best what becomes her. But for you, dame, that wear a prayer-book at your girdle, with your housewife-case, and never change the fashion of your white hood, I dare say he will not grudge you the little matter you need, and are not able to win."

"Out, sordid jade!" exclaimed Dame Ellesmere, her very flesh quivering betwixt apprehension and anger," and hold your peace this instant, or I will find those that shall flay the very hide from thee with dog-whips. Hast thou eat thy noble master's bread, not only to betray his trust, and fly from his service, but wouldst thou come here, like an illomened bird as thou art, to triumph over their

downfall?".

"Nay, dame," said Deborah, over whom the violence of the old woman had obtained a certain predominance; "it is not I that say it-only the warrant of the Parliament folks."

"I thought we had done with their warrants ever since the blessed twenty-ninth of May," said the old housekeeper of Martindale Castle; "but this I tell thee, sweetheart, that I have seen such warrants crammed, at the sword's point, down the throat of them that brought them; and so shall this be, if there is one true man left to drink of the Dove."

As she spoke, Lance Outram re-entered the cottage. "Naunt," he said in dismay, "I doubt it is true what she says. The beacon tower is as black as my belt. No Pole-star of Peveril. What does that betoken?"

"Death, ruin, and captivity," exclaimed old Ellesmere. "Make for the Castle, thou knave. Thrust in thy' great body. Strike for the house that bred thee and fed thee; and if thou art buried under the ruins, thou diest a man's death."

"Nay, naunt, I shall not be slack," answered

Outram. "But here comes folks that I warrant can tell us more on't."

One or two of the female servants, who had fled from the Castle during the alarm, now rushed in with various reports of the case; but all agreeing, that a body of armed men were in possession of the Castle, and that Major Bridgenorth had taken young Master Julian prisoner, and conveyed him down to Moultrassie-Hall, with his feet tied under the belly of the nag-a shameful sight to be seen-and he so well born and so handsome.

Lance scratched his head; and though feeling the duty incumbent upon him as a faithful servant, which was indeed specially dinned upon him by the cries and exclamations of his aunt, he seemed not a little dubious how to conduct himself. "I would to God, naunt," he said at last, "that old Whitaker were alive now, with his long stories about Marston-moor and Edgehill, that made us all yawn our jaws off their hinges in spite of broiled rashers and double-beer. When a man is missed he is moaned, as they say, and I would rather than a broad-piece he had been here to have sorted this matter, for it is clean out of my way as a woodsman, that have no skill of war. But dang it, if old Sir Geoffrey go to the wall without a knock for it! Here you, Nell(speaking to one of the fugitive maidens from the Castle)-but, no-you have not the heart of a cat, and are afraid of your own shadow by moonlight— But, Cis, you are a stout-hearted wench, and know a buck from a bulfinch. Hark thee, Cis, as you would wish to be married, get up to the Castle again, and get thee in-thou best knowst where-for thou hast oft gotten out of postern to a dance, or junketting, to my knowledge-Get thee back to the Castle, as ye hope to be married-See my ladythey can not hinder thee of that-my lady has a head worth twenty of ours-If I am to gather force

H

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light up the beacon for a signal; and spare not a tar barrel on't. Thou may'st do it safe enough. I warrant the Round-heads busy with drink and plunder. And hark thee, say to my lady I am gone down to the miners' houses at Bonadventure. The rogues were mutinying for their wages but yesterday; they will be all ready for good or bad. Let her send orders down to me; or do you come yourself, your legs are long enough."

"Whether they are or not, Master Lance, (and you know nothing of the matter,) they shall do your errand to-night, for love of the old Knight and his lady."

So Cisly Sellok, a kind of Derbyshire Camilla, who had won the smock at the foot-race at Ashbourne, sprung forward towards the Castle, with a speed which few could have equalled.

"There goes a mettled wench," said Lance; "and now, naunt, give me the old broad-swordit is above the bed-head-and my wood-knife; and I shall do well enough."

"And what is to become of me?" bleated the unfortunate Mistress Deborah Debbitch.

"You must remain here with my aunt, Mistress Deb; and for old acquaintance sake, she will take care no harm befalls you, but take heed how attempt to break bounds."

you

So saying, and pondering in his own mind the task which he had undertaken, the hardy forester strode down the moonlight glade, scarcely hearing the blessings and cautions which Dame Ellesmere kept showering after him. His thoughts were not altogether warlike. "What a tight ancle the jade hath!-she trips it like a doe in summer over the dew. Well, but here are the huts-Let us to this gear. Are ye all asleep, ye dammers, sinkers, and drift-drivers? turn out, ye subterranean badgers. Here is your master, Sir Geoffrey, dead, for aught

you know or care.

Do not you see the beacon is

unlit, and you sit there like so many asses?" "Why," answered one of the miners, who now began to come out of their huts,

"An' he be dead,

He will eat no more bread."

"And you are like to eat none neither," said Lance; for the works will be presently stopped, and all of you turned off."

"Well, and what of it, Master Lance? As good play for nought as work for nought. Here is four weeks we have scarce seen the colour of Sir Geoffrey's coin; and you ask us to care whether he be dead or in life! For you, that goes about, trotting upon your horse, and doing for work what all men do for pleasure, it may be well enough; but it is another matter to be leaving God's light, and burrowing all day and night in darkness, like a toad in a hole-that's not to be done for nought, I trow; and if Sir Geoffrey is dead, his soul will suffer for't; and if he's alive, we'll have him in the Barmoot Court."

"Hark ye, Gaffer," said Lance, "and take notice, my mates, all of you," for a considerable number of these rude and subterranean people had now assembled to hear the discussion- Has Sir Geoffrey, think you, ever put a penny in his pouch out of this same Bonadventure mine?"

"I can not say as I think he has," answered old Ditchley, the party who maintained the controversy.

"Answer on your conscience, though it be but a leaden one? Do not you know that he hath lost a good penny?"

"Why, I believe he may," said Gaffer Ditchley. VOL. II..

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"What then?-lose to-day, win to-morrow-the miner must eat in the meantime."

"True; but what will you eat when Master Bridgenorth gets the land, that will not hear of a mine being wrought on his own ground? Will he work on at dead loss, think ye?" demanded trusty Lance.

"Bridgenorth?-he of Moultrassie-Hall, that stopped the great Felicity Work, on which his father laid out some say ten thousand pounds, and never got in a penny? Why, what has he to do with Sir Geoffrey's property down here at Bonadventure? It was never his, I trow."

"Nay, what do I know," answered Lance, who saw the impression he had made. "Law and debt will give him half Derbyshire, I think, unless you stand by old Sir Geoffrey."

"But if Sir Geoffrey be dead," said Ditchley, cautiously, "what good will our standing by do to him?"

"I did not say he was dead, but only as bad as dead; in the hands of the Round-heads-a prisoner up yonder, at his own Castle," said Lance; "and will have his head cut off, like the good Earl of Derby's, at Bolton-le-Moors."

"Nay, then, comrades," said Gaffer Ditchley, "an it be as Master Lance says, I think we should bear a hand for stout old Sir Geoffrey, against a low-born, mean-spirited fellow like Bridgenorth, who shut up a shaft had cost thousands, without getting a penny profit on't. So hurra for Sir

Geoffrey, and down with the Rump! But hold ye a blink-hold-(and the waving of his hand stopped, the commencing cheer)-Hark ye, Master Lance, it must be all over, for the beacon is as black as night; and you know yourself that marks the Lord's death.' 99

"It will kindle again in an instant," said Lance;