Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction
The Knight of the Peak began to peruse the letter accordingly, but was
much embarrassed by the peculiar language in which it was couched. “What
he means by moving of candlesticks, and breaking down of carved work
in the church, I cannot guess; unless he means to bring back the large
silver candlesticks which my grandsire gave to be placed on the altar
at Martindale Moultrassie; and which his crop-eared friends, like
sacrilegious villains as they are, stole and melted down. And in like
manner, the only breaking I know of, was when they pulled down the rails
of the communion table (for which some of their fingers are hot enough
by this time), and when the brass ornaments were torn down from Peveril
monuments; and that was breaking and removing with a vengeance. However,
dame, the upshot is, that poor Bridgenorth is going to leave the
neighbourhood. I am truly sorry for it, though I never saw him oftener
than once a day, and never spoke to him above two words. But I see how
it is--that little shake by the shoulder sticks in his stomach; and yet,
Meg, I did but lift him out of the saddle as I might have lifted thee
into it, Margaret--I was careful not to hurt him; and I did not think
him so tender in point of honour as to mind such a thing much; but I
see plainly where his sore lies; and I warrant you I will manage that
he stays at the Hall, and that you get back Julian’s little companion.
Faith, I am sorry myself at the thought of losing the baby, and of
having to choose another ride when it is not hunting weather, than round
by the Hall, with a word at the window.”
“I should be very glad, Sir Geoffrey,” said the Lady Peveril, “that you
could come to a reconciliation with this worthy man, for such I must
hold Master Bridgenorth to be.”
“But for his dissenting principles, as good a neighbour as ever lived,”
said Sir Geoffrey.
“But I scarce see,” continued the lady, “any possibility of bringing
about a conclusion so desirable.”
“Tush, dame,” answered the Knight, “thou knowest little of such matters.
I know the foot he halts upon, and you shall see him go as sound as
ever.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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