Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction
“Speak with me yet one moment,” said Bridgenorth, withdrawing him into
a Gothic recess of the old-fashioned apartment, and speaking so low
that he could not be overheard by Alice and her governante, who, in the
meantime, caressed, and fed with fragments of bread the intruder Fairy.
“You have not, after all,” said Bridgenorth, “told me the cause of your
coming hither.” He stopped, as if to enjoy his embarrassment, and then
added, “And indeed it were most unnecessary that you should do so. I
have not so far forgotten the days of my youth, or those affections
which bind poor frail humanity but too much to the things of this world.
Will you find no words to ask of me the great boon which you seek, and
which, peradventure, you would not have hesitated to have made your
own, without my knowledge, and against my consent?--Nay, never vindicate
thyself, but mark me farther. The patriarch bought his beloved by
fourteen years’ hard service to her father Laban, and they seemed to
him but as a few days. But he that would wed my daughter must serve,
in comparison, but a few days; though in matters of such mighty import,
that they shall seem as the service of many years. Reply not to me now,
but go, and peace be with you.”
He retired so quickly, after speaking, that Peveril had literally not an
instant to reply. He cast his eyes around the apartment, but Deborah
and her charge had also disappeared. His gaze rested for a moment on
the portrait of Christian, and his imagination suggested that his dark
features were illuminated by a smile of haughty triumph. He stared,
and looked more attentively--it was but the effect of the evening beam,
which touched the picture at the instant. The effect was gone, and there
remained but the fixed, grave, inflexible features of the republican
soldier.
Julian left the apartment as one who walks in a dream; he mounted Fairy,
and, agitated by a variety of thoughts, which he was unable to reduce to
order, he returned to Castle Rushin before the night sat down.
Here he found all in movement. The Countess, with her son, had, upon
some news received, or resolution formed, during his absence, removed,
with a principal part of their family, to the yet stronger Castle of
Holm-Peel, about eight miles’ distance across the island; and which had
been suffered to fall into a much more dilapidated condition than that
of Castletown, so far as it could be considered as a place of residence.
But as a fortress, Holm-Peel was stronger than Castletown; nay, unless
assailed regularly, was almost impregnable; and was always held by
a garrison belonging to the Lords of Man. Here Peveril arrived at
nightfall. He was told in the fishing-village, that the night-bell of
the Castle had been rung earlier than usual, and the watch set with
circumstances of unusual and jealous repetition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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