CHAPTER X
_Cleopatra._--Give me to drink mandragora, That I may sleep away this gap of time. --Antony and Cleopatra.
There passed, as we hinted at the conclusion of the last chapter, fouror five years after the period we have dilated upon; the events ofwhich scarcely require to be discussed, so far as our present purpose isconcerned, in as many lines. The Knight and his Lady continued to resideat their Castle--she, with prudence and with patience, endeavouringto repair the damages which the Civil Wars had inflicted upon theirfortune; and murmuring a little when her plans of economy wereinterrupted by the liberal hospitality, which was her husband'sprincipal expense, and to which he was attached, not only from his ownEnglish heartiness of disposition, but from ideas of maintaining thedignity of his ancestry--no less remarkable, according to the traditionof their buttery, kitchen, and cellar, for the fat beeves which theyroasted, and the mighty ale which they brewed, than for their extensiveestates, and the number of their retainers.
The world, however, upon the whole, went happily and easily withthe worthy couple. Sir Geoffrey's debt to his neighbour Bridgenorthcontinued, it is true, unabated; but he was the only creditor upon theMartindale estate--all others being paid off. It would have been mostdesirable that this encumbrance also should be cleared, and it was thegreat object of Dame Margaret's economy to effect the discharge; foralthough interest was regularly settled with Master Win-the-Fight, theChesterfield 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 uponhis broken head in the churchyard of Martindale-cum-Moultrassie.
Dame Margaret sometimes transacted the necessary business with him inperson; and when he came to the Castle on these occasions, she thoughtshe saw a malicious and disobliging expression in his manner andcountenance. Yet his actual conduct was not only fair, but liberal;for indulgence was given, in the way of delay of payment, whenevercircumstances rendered it necessary to the debtor to require it. Itseemed to Lady Peveril that the agent, in such cases, was acting underthe strict orders of his absent employer, concerning whose welfare shecould not help feeling a certain anxiety.
Shortly after the failure of the singular negotiation for attainingpeace by combat, which Peveril had attempted to open with MajorBridgenorth, that gentleman left his seat of Moultrassie Hall in thecare of his old housekeeper, and departed, no one knew whither, havingin company with him his daughter Alice and Mrs. Deborah Debbitch, nowformally installed in all the duties of a governante; to these was addedthe Reverend Master Solsgrace. For some time public rumour persisted inasserting, that Major Bridgenorth had only retreated to a distant partof the country for a season, to achieve his supposed purpose of marryingMrs. Deborah, and of letting the news be cold, and the laugh ofthe neighbourhood be ended, ere he brought her down as mistress ofMoultrassie Hall. This rumour died away; and it was then affirmed, thathe had removed to foreign parts, to ensure the continuance of health inso delicate a constitution as that of little Alice. But when theMajor's dread of Popery was remembered, together with the still deeperantipathies of worthy Master Nehemiah Solsgrace, it was resolvedunanimously, that nothing less than what they might deem a fairchance of converting the Pope would have induced the parties to trustthemselves within Catholic dominions. The most prevailing opinion was,that they had gone to New England, the refuge then of many whom toointimate concern with the affairs of the late times, or the desire ofenjoying uncontrolled freedom of conscience, had induced to emigratefrom Britain.
Lady Peveril could not help entertaining a vague idea, that Bridgenorthwas not so distant. The extreme order in which everything was maintainedat Moultrassie Hall, seemed--no disparagement to the care of DameDickens the housekeeper, and the other persons engaged--to argue,that the master's eye was not so very far off, but that its occasionalinspection might be apprehended. It is true, that neither the domesticsnor the attorney answered any questions respecting the residence ofMaster Bridgenorth; but there was an air of mystery about them wheninterrogated, that seemed to argue more than met the ear.
About five years after Master Bridgenorth had left the country,a singular incident took place. Sir Geoffrey was absent at theChesterfield races, and Lady Peveril, who was in the habit of walkingaround every part of the neighbourhood unattended, or only accompaniedby Ellesmere, or her little boy, had gone down one evening upon acharitable errand to a solitary hut, whose inhabitant lay sick of afever, which was supposed to be infectious. Lady Peveril never allowedapprehensions of this kind to stop "devoted charitable deeds;" but shedid not choose to expose either her son or her attendant to the riskwhich she herself, in some confidence that she knew precautions forescaping the danger, did not hesitate to incur.
Lady Peveril had set out at a late hour in the evening, and the wayproved longer than she expected--several circumstances also occurred todetain her at the hut of her patient. It was a broad autumn moonlight,when she prepared to return homeward through the broken glades andupland which divided her from the Castle. This she considered as amatter of very little importance, in so quiet and sequestered a country,where the road lay chiefly through her own domains, especially as shehad a lad about fifteen years old, the son of her patient, to escorther on the way. The distance was better than two miles, but might beconsiderably abridged by passing through an avenue belonging to theestate of Moultrassie Hall, which she had avoided as she came, not fromthe ridiculous rumours which pronounced it to be haunted, but becauseher husband was much displeased when any attempt was made to render thewalks of the Castle and Hall common to the inhabitants of both. The goodlady, in consideration, perhaps, of extensive latitude allowed to herin the more important concerns of the family, made a point of neverinterfering with her husband's whims or prejudices; and it is acompromise which we would heartily recommend to all managing matronsof our acquaintance; for it is surprising how much real power will becheerfully resigned to the fair sex, for the pleasure of being allowedto ride one's hobby in peace and quiet.
Upon the present occasion, however, although the Dobby's Walk[*] waswithin the inhabited domains of the Hall, the Lady Peveril determinedto avail herself of it, for the purpose of shortening her road home,and she directed her steps accordingly. But when the peasant-boy, hercompanion, who had hitherto followed her, whistling cheerily, with ahedge-bill in his hand, and his hat on one side, perceived that sheturned to the stile which entered to the Dobby's Walk, he showedsymptoms of great fear, and at length coming to the lady's side,petitioned her, in a whimpering tone,--"Don't ye now--don't ye now, mylady, don't ye go yonder."
[*] Dobby, an old English name for goblin.
Lady Peveril, observing that his teeth chattered in his head, and thathis whole person exhibited great signs of terror, began to recollectthe report, that the first Squire of Moultrassie, the brewer ofChesterfield, who had brought the estate, and then died of melancholyfor lack of something to do (and, as was said, not without suspicions ofsuicide), was supposed to walk in this sequestered avenue, accompaniedby a large headless mastiff, which, when he was alive, was a particularfavourite of the ex-brewer. To have expected any protection from herescort, in the condition to which superstitious fear had reduced him,would have been truly a hopeless trust; and Lady Peveril, who was notapprehensive of any danger, thought there would be great cruelty indragging the cowardly boy into a scene which he regarded with so muchapprehension. She gave him, therefore, a silver piece, and permitted himto return. The latter boon seemed even more acceptable than the first;for ere she could return the purse into her pocket, she heard the woodenclogs of her bold convoy in full retreat, by the way from whence theycame.
Smiling within herself at the fear she esteemed so ludicrous, LadyPeveril ascended the stile, and was soon hidden from the broad light ofthe moonbeams, by the numerous and entangled boughs of the huge elms,which, meeting from either side, totally overarched the
old avenue. Thescene was calculated to excite solemn thoughts; and the distantglimmer of a light from one of the numerous casements in the front ofMoultrassie Hall, which lay at some distance, was calculated to makethem even melancholy. She thought of the fate of that family--of thedeceased Mrs. Bridgenorth, with whom she had often walked in this veryavenue, and who, though a woman of no high parts or accomplishments, hadalways testified the deepest respect, and the most earnest gratitude,for such notice as she had shown to her. She thought of her blightedhopes--her premature death--the despair of her self-banishedhusband--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 sheattained the middle of the avenue, the imperfect and checkered lightwhich found its way through the silvan archway, showed her somethingwhich resembled the figure of a man. Lady Peveril paused a moment, butinstantly advanced;--her bosom, perhaps, gave one startled throb, asa debt to the superstitious belief of the times, but she instantlyrepelled the thought of supernatural appearances. From those that weremerely mortal, she had nothing to fear. A marauder on the game was theworst character whom she was likely to encounter; and he would besure to hide himself from her observation. She advanced, accordingly,steadily; and, as she did so, had the satisfaction to observe that thefigure, as she expected, gave place to her, and glided away amongst thetrees on the left-hand side of the avenue. As she passed the spot onwhich the form had been so lately visible, and bethought herself thatthis wanderer of the night might, nay must, be in her vicinity, herresolution could not prevent her mending her pace, and that with solittle precaution, that, stumbling over the limb of a tree, which,twisted off by a late tempest, still lay in the avenue, she fell, and,as she fell, screamed aloud. A strong hand in a moment afterwards addedto her fears by assisting her to rise, and a voice, to whose accents shewas not a stranger, though they had been long unheard, said, "Is it notyou, Lady Peveril?"
"It is I," said she, commanding her astonishment and fear; "and if myear deceive me not, I speak to Master Bridgenorth."
"I was that man," said he, "while oppression left me a name."
He spoke nothing more, but continued to walk beside her for a minute ortwo in silence. She felt her situation embarrassing; and to divest it ofthat feeling, as well as out of real interest in the question, she askedhim, "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 thecorruption and pollution of God's ordinances. The infant who owedto your ladyship (so called) her escape from disease and death, is ahealthy and thriving girl, as I am given to understand by those in whosecharge she is lodged, for I have not lately seen her. And it is even therecollection of these passages, which in a manner impelled me, alarmedalso by your fall, to offer myself to you at this time and mode, whichin 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 danger!"
"You have some news, then, yet to learn, madam," said Major Bridgenorth;"but you will hear in the course of tomorrow, reasons why I dare notappear openly in the neighbourhood of my own property, and whereforethere is small judgment in committing the knowledge of my presentresidence to any one connected with Martindale Castle."
"Master Bridgenorth," said the lady, "you were in former times prudentand cautious--I hope you have been misled by no hasty impression--by norash scheme--I hope----"
"Pardon my interrupting you, madam," said Bridgenorth. "I have indeedbeen changed--ay, my very heart within me hath been changed. In thetimes to which your ladyship (so called) thinks proper to refer, I was aman of this world--bestowing on it all my thoughts--all my actions, saveformal observances--little deeming what was the duty of a Christian man,and how far his self-denial ought to extend--even unto his giving allas if he gave nothing. Hence I thought chiefly on carnal things--on theadding of field to field, and wealth to wealth--of balancing betweenparty and party--securing a friend here, without losing a friendthere--But Heaven smote me for my apostasy, the rather that I abusedthe name of religion, as a self-seeker, and a most blinded and carnalwill-worshipper--But I thank Him who hath at length brought me out ofEgypt."
In our day--although we have many instances of enthusiasm among us--wemight still suspect one who avowed it thus suddenly and broadly ofhypocrisy, 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 sagacious Vane--the braveand skilful Harrison--were men who acted avowedly under the influenceof such. Lady Peveril, therefore, was more grieved than surprised at thelanguage she heard Major Bridgenorth use, and reasonably concludedthat the society and circumstances in which he might lately have beenengaged, had blown into a flame the spark of eccentricity which alwayssmouldered in his bosom. This was the more probable, considering that hewas melancholy by constitution and descent--that he had been unfortunatein several particulars--and that no passion is more easily nursedby indulgence, than the species of enthusiasm of which he now showedtokens. She therefore answered him by calmly hoping, "That theexpression of his sentiments had not involved him in suspicion or indanger."
"In suspicion, madam?" answered the Major;--"for I cannot forbear givingto you, such is the strength of habit, one of those idle titles by whichwe poor potsherds are wont, in our pride, to denominate each other--Iwalk not only in suspicion, but in that degree of danger, that, wereyour 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 offerme to the Moloch of Roman superstition, who now rages abroad for victimsamong 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 withthat purpose walked on somewhat hastily. He mended his pace, however,and kept close by her side.
"Know you not," said he, "that Satan hath come down upon earth withgreat wrath, because his time is short? The next heir to the crown isan avowed Papist; and who dare assert, save sycophants and time-servers,that he who wears it is not equally ready to stoop to Rome, were he notkept in awe by a few noble spirits in the Commons' House? You believenot this--yet in my solitary and midnight walks, when I thought on yourkindness to the dead and to the living, it was my prayer that I mighthave the means granted to warn you--and lo! Heaven hath heard me."
"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 comforts--Iclung to worldly honour and repute--my thoughts were earthward--or thoseI turned to Heaven were cold, formal, pharisaical meditations--I broughtnothing to the altar save straw and stubble. Heaven saw need to chastiseme in love--I was stript of all I clung to on earth--my worldly honourwas torn from me--I went forth an exile from the home of my fathers, adeprived and desolate man--a baffled, and beaten, and dishonoured man.But who shall find out the ways of Providence? Such were the means bywhich I was chosen forth as a champion for the truth--holding my life asnothing, if thereby that may be advanced. But this was not what I wishedto speak of. Thou hast saved the earthly life of my child--let me savethe eternal welfare of yours."
Lady Peveril was silent. They were now approaching the point wherethe avenue terminated in a communication with a public road, or ratherpathway, running through an unenclosed common field; this the ladyhad to prosecute for a little way, until a turn of the path gave heradmittance into the Park of Martindale. She now felt sincerely anxiousto be in the open moonshine, and avoided reply to Bridgenorth thatshe might make the more haste. But as they reached the junction of theavenue and the public road, he laid his hand on her arm, and commandedrather than requested her to stop. She obeyed. He pointed to a huge oak,of the larges
t size, which grew on the summit of a knoll in the openground which terminated the avenue, and was exactly so placed as toserve for a termination to the vista. The moonshine without the avenuewas so strong, that, amidst the flood of light which it poured on thevenerable tree, they could easily discover, from the shattered stateof 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 from London, and brought with me a protection from thecommittee for your husband; and as I passed the spot--here on this spotwhere we now stand, you stood with my lost Alice--two--the last two ofmy beloved infants gambolled before you. I leaped from my horse--toher I was a husband--to those a father--to you a welcome and reveredprotector--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 anattempt at consolation. "Master Bridgenorth," she said, "I blame noman's creed, while I believe and follow my own; and I rejoice that inyours you have sought consolation for temporal afflictions. But does notevery Christian creed teach us alike, that affliction should soften ourheart?"
"Ay, woman," said Bridgenorth sternly, "as the lightning which shatteredyonder oak hath softened its trunk. No; the seared wood is the fitterfor the use of the workmen--the hardened and the dried-up heart is thatwhich can best bear the task imposed by these dismal times. God and manwill no longer endure the unbridled profligacy of the dissolute--thescoffing of the profane--the contempt of the divine laws--the infractionof human rights. The times demand righters and avengers, and there willbe no want of them."
"I deny not the existence of much evil," said Lady Peveril, compellingherself to answer, and beginning at the same time to walk forward;"and from hearsay, though not, I thank Heaven, from observation, I amconvinced of the wild debauchery of the times. But let us trust it maybe corrected without such violent remedies as you hint at. Surely theruin of a second civil war--though I trust your thoughts go not thatdreadful length--were at best a desperate alternative."
"Sharp, but sure," replied Bridgenorth. "The blood of the Paschallamb chased away the destroying angel--the sacrifices offered on thethreshing-floor of Araunah, stayed the pestilence. Fire and sword aresevere remedies, but they pure and purify."
"Alas! Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, "wise and moderate in youryouth, can you have adopted in your advanced life the thoughts andlanguage of those whom you yourself beheld drive themselves and thenation 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 openlight, and it seemed as if, feeling himself under the lady's eye, he wasdisposed to soften his tone and his language.
At the first distinct view which she had of his person, she was awarethat he was armed with a short sword, a poniard, and pistols at hisbelt--precautions very unusual for a man who formerly had seldom, andonly on days of ceremony, carried a walking rapier, though such wasthe habitual and constant practice of gentlemen of his station in life.There seemed also something of more stern determination than usual inhis air, which indeed had always been rather sullen than affable; andere she could repress the sentiment, she could not help saying, "MasterBridgenorth, you are indeed changed."
"You see but the outward man," he replied; "the change within is yetdeeper. But it was not of myself that I desired to talk--I have alreadysaid, that as you have preserved my child from the darkness of thegrave, 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 mustbid you farewell for the present; and when we again meet at a moresuitable time, I will at least listen to your advice concerning Julian,although I should not perhaps incline to it."
"That more suitable time may never come," replied Bridgenorth. "Timewanes, eternity draws nigh. Hearken! it is said to be your purpose tosend the young Julian to be bred up in yonder bloody island, under thehand of your kinswoman, that cruel murderess, by whom was done to deatha man more worthy of vital existence than any that she can boast amongher vaunted ancestry. These are current tidings--Are they true?"
"I do not blame you, Master Bridgenorth, for thinking harshly of mycousin of Derby," said Lady Peveril; "nor do I altogether vindicatethe rash action of which she hath been guilty. Nevertheless, in herhabitation, it is my husband's opinion and my own, that Julian may betrained in the studies and accomplishments becoming his rank, along withthe young Earl of Derby."
"Under the curse of God, and the blessing of the Pope of Rome,"said Bridgenorth. "You, lady, so quick-sighted in matters of earthlyprudence, are you blind to the gigantic pace at which Rome is moving toregain this country, once the richest gem in her usurped tiara? Theold are seduced by gold--the youth by pleasure--the weak byflattery--cowards by fear--and the courageous by ambition. A thousandbaits for each taste, and each bait concealing the same deadly hook."
"I am well aware, Master Bridgenorth," said Lady Peveril, "that mykinswoman is a Catholic;[*] but her son is educated in the Church ofEngland's principles, agreeably to the command of her deceased husband."
[*] I have elsewhere noticed that this is a deviation from the truth Charlotte, Countess of Derby, was a Huguenot.
"Is it likely," answered Bridgenorth, "that she, who fears not sheddingthe blood of the righteous, whether on the field or scaffold, willregard the sanction of her promise when her religion bids her break it?Or, if she does, what shall your son be the better, if he remain in themire of his father? What are your Episcopal tenets but mere Popery? savethat ye have chosen a temporal tyrant for your Pope, and substitute amangled mass in English for that which your predecessors pronounced inLatin.--But why speak I of these things to one who hath ears, indeed,and eyes, yet cannot see, listen to, or understand what is alone worthyto be heard, seen, and known? Pity that what hath been wrought so fairand exquisite in form and disposition, should be yet blind, deaf, andignorant, like the things which perish!"
"We shall not agree on these subjects, Master Bridgenorth," said thelady, anxious still to escape from this strange conference, thoughscarce 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 actualprecipice--let me prevent you from a danger still greater. How shallI work upon your unbelieving mind? Shall I tell you that the debt ofbloodshed 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 beexacted?"
"You wish to alarm me in vain, Master Bridgenorth," answered the lady;"what penalty can be exacted from the Countess, for an action, which Ihave already called a rash one, has been long since levied."
"You deceive yourself," retorted he sternly. "Think you a paltry sum ofmoney, given to be wasted on the debaucheries of Charles, can atone forthe death of such a man as Christian--a man precious alike to heaven andto earth? Not on such terms is the blood of the righteous to be pouredforth! Every hour's delay is numbered down as adding interest to thegrievous debt, which will one day be required from that blood-thirstywoman."
At this moment the distant tread of horses was heard on the road onwhich they held this singular dialogue. Bridgenorth listened a moment,and then said, "Forget that you have seen me--name not my name to yournearest or dearest--lock my counsel in your breast--profit by it, and itshall 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 LadyPeveril was aware of several riders, whose forms rose indistinctly onthe summit of the rising ground behind her. She became also visibleto them; and one or two of the foremost made towards her at increasedspeed, challenging her as they advanced with the cry of "Stand! Who g
oesthere?" The foremost who came up, however, exclaimed, "Mercy on us, ifit be not my lady!" and Lady Peveril, at the same moment, recognised oneof her own servants. Her husband rode up immediately afterwards, with,"How now, Dame Margaret? What makes you abroad so far from home and atan hour so late?"
Lady Peveril mentioned her visit at the cottage, but did not think itnecessary to say aught of having seen Major Bridgenorth; afraid, it maybe, that her husband might be displeased with that incident.
"Charity is a fine thing and a fair," answered Sir Geoffrey; "but Imust tell you, you do ill, dame, to wander about the country like aquacksalver, at the call of every old woman who has a colic-fit; andat this time of night especially, and when the land is so unsettledbesides."
"I am sorry to hear that it so," said the lady. "I had heard no suchnews."
"News?" repeated Sir Geoffrey, "why, here has a new plot broken outamong the Roundheads, worse than Venner's by a butt's length;[*] andwho should be so deep in it as our old neighbour Bridgenorth? There issearch for him everywhere; and I promise you if he is found, he is liketo pay old scores."
[*] The celebrated insurrection of the Anabaptists and Fifth Monarchy men in London, in the year 1661.
"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 hewill; and it shall not be my fault if he be not; for which effect I willpresently ride down to Moultrassie, and make strict search, according tomy duty; there shall neither rebel nor traitor earth so near MartindaleCastle, that I will assure them. And you, my lady, be pleased for onceto dispense with a pillion, and get up, as you have done before, behindSaunders, who shall convey you safe home."
The Lady obeyed in silence; indeed she did not dare to trust hervoice in an attempt to reply, so much was she disconcerted with theintelligence she had just heard.
She rode behind the groom to the Castle, where she awaited in greatanxiety the return of her husband. He came back at length; but to hergreat relief, without any prisoner. He then explained more fullythan his haste had before permitted, that an express had come down toChesterfield, with news from Court of a proposed insurrection amongstthe old Commonwealth men, especially those who had served in the army;and that Bridgenorth, said to be lurking in Derbyshire, was one of theprincipal conspirators.
After some time, this report of a conspiracy seemed to die away likemany others of that period. The warrants were recalled, but nothing morewas seen or heard of Major Bridgenorth; although it is probable he mightsafely enough have shown himself as openly as many did who lay under thesame circumstances of suspicion.
About this time also, Lady Peveril, with many tears, took a temporaryleave 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 LadyPeveril's mind, she did not suffer them to weigh with her in oppositionto the advantages which the patronage of the Countess of Derby securedto her son.
The plan seemed to be in every respect successful; and when, from timeto time, Julian visited the house of his father, Lady Peveril had thesatisfaction to see him, on every occasion, improved in person and inmanner, as well as ardent in the pursuit of more solid acquirements.In process of time he became a gallant and accomplished youth, andtravelled for some time upon the continent with the young Earl. This wasthe more especially necessary for the enlarging of their acquaintancewith the world; because the Countess had never appeared in London, or atthe Court of King Charles, since her flight to the Isle of Man in 1660;but had resided in solitary and aristocratic state, alternately on herestates in England and in that island.
This had given to the education of both the young men, otherwise asexcellent as the best teachers could render it, something of a narrowand restricted character; but though the disposition of the young Earlwas lighter and more volatile than that of Julian, both the one andthe other had profited, in a considerable degree, by the opportunitiesafforded them. It was Lady Derby's strict injunction to her son, nowreturning from the continent, that he should not appear at the Courtof Charles. But having been for some time of age, he did not think itabsolutely necessary to obey her in this particular; and had remainedfor some time in London, partaking 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 herauthority (for he continued to entertain for her the profound respectin which he had been educated), Lord Derby agreed to make a long sojournwith her in her favourite island, which he abandoned almost entirely toher management.
Julian Peveril had spent at Martindale Castle a good deal of the timewhich his friend had bestowed in London; and at the period to which,passing over many years, our story has arrived, as it were, _persaltum_, they were both living as the Countess's guests, in the Castleof Rushin, in the venerable kingdom of Man.