“Papa came at last,” said the Countess, “and so did Prince Rupert--but not, I think, till they were both heartily wished for.--Do you remember that morning, Margaret, when the round-headed knaves, that kept us pent up so long, retreated without bag or baggage, at the first glance of the Prince’s standards appearing on the hill--and how you took every high-crested captain you saw for Peveril of the Peak, that had been your partner three months before at the Queen’s mask? Nay, never blush for the thought of it--it was an honest affection--and though it was the music of trumpets that accompanied you both to the old chapel, which was almost entirely ruined by the enemy’s bullets; and though Prince Rupert, when he gave you away at the altar, was clad in buff and bandoleer, with pistols in his belt, yet I trust these warlike signs were no type of future discord?” “Heaven has been kind to me,” said the Lady Peveril, “in blessing me with an affectionate husband.” “And in preserving him to you,” said the Countess, with a deep sigh; “while mine, alas! sealed with his blood his devotion to his king[*]--Oh, had he lived to see this day!” [*] The Earl of Derby and King in Man was beheaded at Bolton-on-the- Moors, after having been made prisoner in a previous skirmish in Wiggan Lane. “Alas! alas! that he was not permitted!” answered Lady Peveril; “how had that brave and noble Earl rejoiced in the unhoped-for redemption of our captivity!” The Countess looked on Lady Peveril with an air of surprise. “Thou hast not then heard, cousin, how it stands with our house?--How indeed had my noble lord wondered, had he been told that the very monarch for whom he had laid down his noble life on the scaffold at Bolton-le-Moor, should make it his first act of restored monarchy to complete the destruction of our property, already well-nigh ruined in the royal cause, and to persecute me his widow!” “You astonish me, madam!” said the Lady Peveril. “It cannot be, that you--that you, the wife of the gallant, the faithful, the murdered Earl--you, Countess of Derby, and Queen in Man--you, who took on you even the character of a soldier, and seemed a man when so many men proved women--that you should sustain evil from the event which has fulfilled--exceeded--the hopes of every faithful subject--it cannot be!” “Thou art as simple, I see, in this world’s knowledge as ever, my fair cousin,” answered the Countess. “This restoration, which has given others security, has placed me in danger--this change which relieved other Royalists, scarce less zealous, I presume to think, than I--has sent me here a fugitive, and in concealment, to beg shelter and assistance from you, fair cousin.”