“I crave your ladyship’s pardon,” said Whitaker, with much reverence; “I hope I know my place. I am your ladyship’s poor servant; and I know it does not become me to drink and swear like your ladyship--that is, like his honour, Sir Geoffrey, I would say. But I pray you, if I am not to drink and swear after my degree, how are men to know Peveril of the Peak’s steward,--and I may say butler too, since I have had the keys of the cellar ever since old Spigots was shot dead on the northwest turret, with a black jack in his hand,--I say, how is an old Cavalier like me to be known from those cuckoldly Roundheads that do nothing but fast and pray, if we are not to drink and swear according to our degree?” The lady was silent, for she well knew speech availed nothing; and, after a moment’s pause, proceeded to intimate to the steward that she would have the persons, whose names were marked in a written paper, which she delivered to him, invited to the approaching banquet. Whitaker, instead of receiving the list with the mute acquiescence of a modern Major Domo, carried it into the recess of one of the windows, and, adjusting his spectacles, began to read it to himself. The first names, being those of distinguished Cavalier families in the neighbourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approbation--paused and pshawed at that of Bridgenorth--yet acquiesced, with the observation, “But he is a good neighbour, so it may pass for once.” But when he read the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the Presbyterian parson, Whitaker’s patience altogether forsook him; and he declared he would as soon throw himself into Eldon-hole,[*] as consent that the intrusive old puritan howlet, who had usurped the pulpit of a sound orthodox divine, should ever darken the gates of Martindale Castle by any message or mediation of his. [*] A chasm in the earth supposed to be unfathomable, one of the wonders of the Peak. “The false crop-eared hypocrites,” cried he, with a hearty oath, “have had their turn of the good weather. The sun is on our side of the hedge now, and we will pay off old scores, as sure as my name is Richard Whitaker.” “You presume on your long services, Whitaker, and on your master’s absence, or you had not dared to use me thus,” said the lady. The unwonted agitation of her voice attracted the attention of the refractory steward, notwithstanding his present state of elevation; but he no sooner saw that her eye glistened, and her cheek reddened, than his obstinacy was at once subdued.