Peveril of the Peak Read online

  CHAPTER XXI

  In these distracted times, when each man dreads The bloody stratagems of busy hands. --OTWAY.

  At the door of the Cat and Fiddle, Julian received the usual attentionpaid to the customers of an inferior house of entertainment. His horsewas carried by a ragged lad, who acted as hostler, into a paltry stable;where, however, the nag was tolerably supplied with food and litter.

  Having seen the animal on which his comfort, perhaps his safety,depended, properly provided for, Peveril entered the kitchen, whichindeed was also the parlour and hall of the little hostelry, to try whatrefreshment he could obtain for himself. Much to his satisfaction, hefound there was only one guest in the house besides himself; but he wasless pleased when he found that he must either go without dinner, orshare with that single guest the only provisions which chanced to bein the house, namely, a dish of trouts and eels, which their host, themiller, had brought in from his mill-stream.

  At the particular request of Julian, the landlady undertook to add asubstantial dish of eggs and bacon, which perhaps she would not haveundertaken for, had not the sharp eye of Peveril discovered the flitchhanging in its smoky retreat, when, as its presence could not be denied,the hostess was compelled to bring it forward as a part of her supplies.

  She was a buxom dame about thirty, whose comely and cheerful countenancedid honour to the choice of the jolly miller, her loving mate; andwas now stationed under the shade of an old-fashioned huge projectingchimney, within which it was her province to "work i' the fire," andprovide for the wearied wayfaring man, the good things which were tosend him rejoicing on his course. Although, at first, the honest womanseemed little disposed to give herself much additional trouble onJulian's account, yet the good looks, handsome figure, and easy civilityof her new guest, soon bespoke the principal part of her attention; andwhile busy in his service, she regarded him, from time to time, withlooks, where something like pity mingled with complacency. The richsmoke of the rasher, and the eggs with which it was flanked, alreadyspread itself through the apartment; and the hissing of these savouryviands bore chorus to the simmering of the pan, in which the fishwere undergoing a slower decoction. The table was covered with a cleanhuck-aback napkin, and all was in preparation for the meal, which Julianbegan to expect with a good deal of impatience, when the companion, whowas destined to share it with him, entered the apartment.

  At the first glance Julian recognised, to his surprise, the sameindifferently dressed, thin-looking person, who, during the firstbargain which he had made with Bridlesley, had officiously interferedwith his advice and opinion. Displeased at having the company of anystranger forced upon him, Peveril was still less satisfied to find onewho might make some claim of acquaintance with him, however slender,since the circumstances in which he stood compelled him to be asreserved as possible. He therefore turned his back upon his destinedmessmate, and pretended to amuse himself by looking out of the window,determined to avoid all intercourse until it should be inevitably forcedupon him.

  In the meanwhile, the other stranger went straight up to the landlady,where she toiled on household cares intent, and demanded of her, whatshe meant by preparing bacon and eggs, when he had positively chargedher to get nothing ready but the fish.

  The good woman, important as every cook in the discharge of her duty,deigned not for some time so much as to acknowledge that she heard thereproof of her guest; and when she did so, it was only to repel it in amagisterial and authoritative tone.--"If he did not like bacon--(baconfrom their own hutch, well fed on pease and bran)--if he did not likebacon and eggs--(new-laid eggs, which she had brought in from thehen-roost with her own hands)--why so put case--it was the worse for hishonour, and the better for those who did."

  "The better for those who like them?" answered the guest; "that is asmuch as to say I am to have a companion, good woman."

  "Do not good woman me, sir," replied the miller's wife, "till I call yougood man; and, I promise you, many would scruple to do that to one whodoes not love eggs and bacon of a Friday."

  "Nay, my good lady," said her guest, "do not fix any misconstructionupon me--I dare say the eggs and the bacon are excellent; only they arerather a dish too heavy for my stomach."

  "Ay, or your conscience perhaps, sir," answered the hostess. "And now, Ibethink me, you must needs have your fish fried with oil, instead ofthe good drippings I was going to put to them. I would I could spellthe meaning of all this now; but I warrant John Bigstaff, the constable,could conjure something out of it."

  There was a pause here; but Julian, somewhat alarmed at the tone whichthe conversation assumed, became interested in watching the dumb showwhich succeeded. By bringing his head a little towards the left, butwithout turning round, or quitting the projecting latticed window wherehe had taken his station, he could observe that the stranger, secured,as he seemed to think himself, from observation, had sidled close up tothe landlady, and, as he conceived, had put a piece of money into herhand. The altered tone of the miller's moiety corresponded very muchwith this supposition.

  "Nay, indeed, and forsooth," she said, "her house was Liberty Hall; andso should every publican's be. What was it to her what gentlefolks ateor drank, providing they paid for it honestly? There were many honestgentlemen, whose stomachs could not abide bacon, grease, or dripping,especially on a Friday; and what was that to her, or any one in herline, so gentlefolks paid honestly for the trouble? Only, she would say,that her bacon and eggs could not be mended betwixt this and Liverpool,and that she would live and die upon."

  "I shall hardly dispute it," said the stranger; and turning towardsJulian, he added, "I wish this gentleman, who I suppose is mytrencher-companion, much joy of the dainties which I cannot assist himin consuming."

  "I assure you, sir," answered Peveril, who now felt himself compelledto turn about, and reply with civility, "that it was with difficulty Icould prevail on my landlady to add my cover to yours, though she seemsnow such a zealot for the consumption of eggs and bacon."

  "I am zealous for nothing," said the landlady, "save that men would eattheir victuals, and pay their score; and if there be enough in one dishto serve two guests, I see little purpose in dressing them two; however,they are ready now, and done to a nicety.--Here, Alice! Alice!"

  The sound of that well-known name made Julian start; but the Alicewho replied to the call ill resembled the vision which his imaginationconnected with the accents, being a dowdy slipshod wench, the drudgeof the low inn which afforded him shelter. She assisted her mistressin putting on the table the dishes which the latter had prepared; and afoaming jug of home-brewed ale being placed betwixt them, was warrantedby Dame Whitecraft as excellent; "for," said she, "we know by practicethat too much water drowns the miller, and we spare it on our malt as wewould in our mill-dam."

  "I drink to your health in it, dame," said the elder stranger; "anda cup of thanks for these excellent fish; and to the drowning of allunkindness between us."

  "I thank you, sir," said the dame, "and wish you the like; but I darenot pledge you, for our Gaffer says that ale is brewed too strong forwomen; so I only drink a glass of canary at a time with a gossip, or anygentleman guest that is so minded."

  "You shall drink one with me, then, dame," said Peveril, "so you willlet me have a flagon."

  "That you shall, sir, and as good as ever was broached; but I must tothe mill, to get the key from the goodman."

  So saying, and tucking her clean gown through the pocket-holes, thather steps might be the more alert, and her dress escape dust, off shetripped to the mill, which lay close adjoining.

  "A dainty dame, and dangerous, is the miller's wife," said the stranger,looking at Peveril. "Is not that old Chaucer's phrase?"

  "I--I believe so," said Peveril, not much read in Chaucer, who was theneven more neglected than at present; and much surprised at a literaryquotation from one of the mean appearance exhibited by the person beforehim.

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sp; "Yes," answered the stranger, "I see that you, like other younggentlemen of the time, are better acquainted with Cowley and Waller,than with the 'well of English undefiled.' I cannot help differing.There are touches of nature about the old bard of Woodstock, that, tome, are worth all the turns of laborious wit in Cowley, and allthe ornate and artificial simplicity of his courtly competitor. Thedescription, for instance, of his country coquette--

  'Wincing she was, as is a wanton colt, Sweet as a flower, and upright as a bolt.'

  Then, again, for pathos, where will you mend the dying scene of Arcite?

  'Alas, my heart's queen! alas, my wife! Giver at once, and ender of my life. What is this world?--What axen men to have? Now with his love--now in his cold grave Alone, withouten other company.'

  But I tire you, sir; and do injustice to the poet, whom I remember butby halves."

  "On the contrary, sir," replied Peveril, "you make him more intelligibleto me in your recitation, than I have found him when I have tried toperuse him myself."

  "You were only frightened by the antiquated spelling, and 'the lettersblack,'" said his companion. "It is many a scholar's case, who mistakesa nut, which he could crack with a little exertion, for a bullet, whichhe must needs break his teeth on; but yours are better employed.--ShallI offer you some of this fish?"

  "Not so, sir," replied Julian, willing to show himself a man of readingin his turn; "I hold with old Caius, and profess to fear judgment, tofight where I cannot choose, and to eat no fish."

  The stranger cast a startled look around him at this observation, whichJulian had thrown out, on purpose to ascertain, if possible, the qualityof his companion, whose present language was so different from thecharacter he had assumed at Bridlesley's. His countenance, too, althoughthe features were of an ordinary, not to say mean cast, had thatcharacter of intelligence which education gives to the most homely face;and his manners were so easy and disembarrassed, as plainly showed acomplete acquaintance with society, as well as the habit of minglingwith it in the higher stages. The alarm which he had evidently shown atPeveril's answer, was but momentary; for he almost instantly replied,with a smile, "I promise you, sir, that you are in no dangerous company;for notwithstanding my fish dinner, I am much disposed to trifle withsome of your savoury mess, if you will indulge me so far."

  Peveril accordingly reinforced the stranger's trencher with whatremained of the bacon and eggs, and saw him swallow a mouthful or twowith apparent relish; but presently after began to dally with his knifeand fork, like one whose appetite was satiated; and then took a longdraught of the black jack, and handed his platter to the large mastiffdog, who, attracted by the smell of the dinner, had sat down beforehim for some time, licking his chops, and following with his eye everymorsel which the guest raised to his head.

  "Here, my poor fellow," said he, "thou hast had no fish, and needestthis supernumerary trencher-load more than I do. I cannot withstand thymute supplication any longer."

  The dog answered these courtesies by a civil shake of the tail, while hegobbled up what was assigned him by the stranger's benevolence, in thegreater haste, that he heard his mistress's voice at the door.

  "Here is the canary, gentlemen," said the landlady; "and the goodmanhas set off the mill, to come to wait on you himself. He always does so,when company drink wine."

  "That he may come in for the host's, that is, for the lion's share,"said the stranger, looking at Peveril.

  "The shot is mine," said Julian; "and if mine host will share it, I willwillingly bestow another quart on him, and on you, sir. I never breakold customs."

  These sounds caught the ear of Gaffer Whitecraft, who had entered theroom, a strapping specimen of his robust trade, prepared to playthe civil, or the surly host, as his company should be acceptable orotherwise. At Julian's invitation, he doffed his dusty bonnet--brushedfrom his sleeve the looser particles of his professional dust--andsitting down on the end of a bench, about a yard from the table, filleda glass of canary, and drank to his guests, and "especially to thisnoble gentleman," indicating Peveril, who had ordered the canary.

  Julian returned the courtesy by drinking his health, and asking whatnews were about in the country?

  "Nought, sir, I hears on nought, except this Plot, as they call it, thatthey are pursuing the Papishers about; but it brings water to my mill,as the saying is. Between expresses hurrying hither and thither,and guards and prisoners riding to and again, and the custom of theneighbours, that come to speak over the news of an evening, nightly, Imay say, instead of once a week, why, the spigot is in use, gentlemen,and your land thrives; and then I, serving as constable, and being aknown Protestant, I have tapped, I may venture to say, it may be tenstands of ale extraordinary, besides a reasonable sale of wine for acountry corner. Heaven make us thankful, and keep all good Protestantsfrom Plot and Popery."

  "I can easily conceive, my friend," said Julian, "that curiosity isa passion which runs naturally to the alehouse; and that anger,and jealousy, and fear, are all of them thirsty passions, and greatconsumers of home-brewed. But I am a perfect stranger in these parts;and I would willingly learn, from a sensible man like you, a littleof this same Plot, of which men speak so much, and appear to know solittle."

  "Learn a little of it?--Why, it is the most horrible--the most damnable,bloodthirsty beast of a Plot--But hold, hold, my good master; I hope,in the first place, you believe there is a Plot; for, otherwise,the Justice must have a word with you, as sure as my name is JohnWhitecraft."

  "It shall not need," said Peveril; "for I assure you, mine host, Ibelieve in the Plot as freely and fully as a man can believe in anythinghe cannot understand."

  "God forbid that anybody should pretend to understand it," said theimplicit constable; "for his worship the Justice says it is a milebeyond him; and he be as deep as most of them. But men may believe,though they do not understand; and that is what the Romanists saythemselves. But this I am sure of, it makes a rare stirring time forjustices, and witnesses, and constables.--So here's to your healthagain, gentlemen, in a cup of neat canary."

  "Come, come, John Whitecraft," said the wife, "do not you demeanyourself by naming witnesses along with justices and constables. All theworld knows how they come by their money."

  "Ay, but all the world knows that they _do_ come by it, dame; and thatis a great comfort. They rustle in their canonical silks, and swaggerin their buff and scarlet, who but they?--Ay, ay, the cursed foxthrives--and not so cursed neither. Is there not Doctor Titus Oates, thesaviour of the nation--does he not live at Whitehall, and eat off plate,and have a pension of thousands a year, for what I know? and is he notto be Bishop of Litchfield, so soon as Dr. Doddrum dies?"

  "Then I hope Dr. Doddrum's reverence will live these twenty years; and Idare say I am the first that ever wished such a wish," said the hostess."I do not understand these doings, not I; and if a hundred Jesuits cameto hold a consult at my house, as they did at the White Horse Tavern,I should think it quite out of the line of business to bear witnessagainst them, provided they drank well, and paid their score."

  "Very true, dame," said her elder guest; "that is what I call keeping agood publican conscience; and so I will pay my score presently, and bejogging on my way."

  Peveril, on his part, also demanded a reckoning, and discharged itso liberally, that the miller flourished his hat as he bowed, and thehostess courtesied down to the ground.

  The horses of both guests were brought forth; and they mounted, in orderto depart in company. The host and hostess stood in the doorway, to seethem depart. The landlord proffered a stirrup-cup to the elder guest,while the landlady offered Peveril a glass from her own peculiar bottle.For this purpose, she mounted on the horse-block, with flask and glassin hand; so that it was easy for the departing guest, although onhorse-back, to return the courtesy in the most approved manner, namely,by throwing his arm over his landlady's shoulder, and saluting her atparting.

  Dame Whitecraft did not decline this familiarity; for there is no roomfor
traversing upon a horse-block, and the hands which might have servedher for resistance, were occupied with glass and bottle--matters tooprecious to be thrown away in such a struggle. Apparently, however, shehad something else in her head; for as, after a brief affectation ofreluctance, she permitted Peveril's face to approach hers, she whisperedin his ear, "Beware of trepans!"--an awful intimation, which, inthose days of distrust, suspicion, and treachery, was as effectualin interdicting free and social intercourse, as the advertisement of"man-traps and spring-guns," to protect an orchard. Pressing her hand,in intimation that he comprehended her hint, she shook his warmly inreturn, and bade God speed him. There was a cloud on John Whitecraft'sbrow; nor did his final farewell sound half so cordial as that whichhad been spoken within doors. But then Peveril reflected, that the sameguest is not always equally acceptable to landlord and landlady; andunconscious of having done anything to excite the miller's displeasure,he pursued his journey without thinking farther of the matter.

  Julian was a little surprised, and not altogether pleased, to find thathis new acquaintance held the same road with him. He had many reasonsfor wishing to travel alone; and the hostess's caution still rung in hisears. If this man, possessed of so much shrewdness as his countenanceand conversation intimated, versatile, as he had occasion to remark, anddisguised beneath his condition, should prove, as was likely, to be aconcealed Jesuit or seminary-priest, travelling upon their great taskof the conversion of England, and rooting out of the Northern heresy,--amore dangerous companion, for a person in his own circumstances,could hardly be imagined; since keeping society with him might seem toauthorise whatever reports had been spread concerning the attachmentof his family to the Catholic cause. At the same time, it was verydifficult, without actual rudeness, to shake off the company of one whoseemed so determined, whether spoken to or not, to remain alongside ofhim.

  Peveril tried the experiment of riding slow; but his companion,determined not to drop him, slackened his pace, so as to keep closeby him. Julian then spurred his horse to a full trot; and was soonsatisfied, that the stranger, notwithstanding the meanness of hisappearance, was so much better mounted than himself, as to rendervain any thought of outriding him. He pulled up his horse to a morereasonable pace, therefore, in a sort of despair. Upon his doing so, hiscompanion, who had been hitherto silent, observed, that Peveril was notso well qualified to try speed upon the road, as he would have been hadhe abode by his first bargain of horse-flesh that morning.

  Peveril assented dryly, but observed, that the animal would serve hisimmediate purpose, though he feared it would render him indifferentcompany for a person better mounted.

  "By no means," answered his civil companion; "I am one of those who havetravelled so much, as to be accustomed to make my journey at any rate ofmotion which may be most agreeable to my company."

  Peveril made no reply to this polite intimation, being too sincere totender the thanks which, in courtesy, were the proper answer.--A secondpause ensued, which was broken by Julian asking the stranger whethertheir roads were likely to lie long together in the same direction.

  "I cannot tell," said the stranger, smiling, "unless I knew which wayyou were travelling."

  "I am uncertain how far I shall go to-night," said Julian, willinglymisunderstanding the purport of the reply.

  "And so am I," replied the stranger; "but though my horse goes betterthan yours, I think it will be wise to spare him; and in case our roadcontinues to lie the same way, we are likely to sup, as we have dinedtogether."

  Julian made no answer whatever to this round intimation, but continuedto ride on, turning, in his own mind, whether it would not be wisest tocome to a distinct understanding with his pertinacious attendant, andto explain, in so many words, that it was his pleasure to travel alone.But, besides that the sort of acquaintance which they had formed duringdinner, rendered him unwilling to be directly uncivil towards a personof gentleman-like manners, he had also to consider that he might verypossibly be mistaken in this man's character and purpose; in which case,the cynically refusing the society of a sound Protestant, would affordas pregnant matter of suspicion, as travelling in company with adisguised Jesuit.

  After brief reflection, therefore, he resolved to endure the encumbranceof the stranger's society, until a fair opportunity should occur to ridhimself of it; and, in the meantime, to act with as much caution as hepossibly could, in any communication that might take place between them;for Dame Whitecraft's parting caution still rang anxiously in his ears,and the consequences of his own arrest upon suspicion, must deprive himof every opportunity of serving his father, or the countess, or MajorBridgenorth, upon whose interest, also, he had promised himself to keepan eye.

  While he revolved these things in his mind, they had journeyed severalmiles without speaking; and now entered upon a more waste country, andworse roads, than they had hitherto found, being, in fact, approachingthe more hilly district of Derbyshire. In travelling on a very stony anduneven lane, Julian's horse repeatedly stumbled; and, had he not beensupported by the rider's judicious use of the bridle, must at lengthcertainly have fallen under him.

  "These are times which crave wary riding, sir," said his companion;"and by your seat in the saddle, and your hand on the rein, you seem tounderstand it to be so."

  "I have been long a horseman, sir," answered Peveril.

  "And long a traveller, too, sir, I should suppose; since by the greatcaution you observe, you seem to think the human tongue requires a curb,as well as the horse's jaws."

  "Wiser men than I have been of opinion," answered Peveril, "that itwere a part of prudence to be silent, when men have little or nothing tosay."

  "I cannot approve of their opinion," answered the stranger. "Allknowledge is gained by communication, either with the dead, throughbooks, or, more pleasingly, through the conversation of the living. The_deaf and dumb_, alone, are excluded from improvement; and surely theirsituation is not so enviable that we should imitate them."

  At this illustration, which awakened a startling echo in Peveril'sbosom, the young man looked hard at his companion; but in the composedcountenance, and calm blue eye, he read no consciousness of a farthermeaning than the words immediately and directly implied. He paused amoment, and then answered, "You seem to be a person, sir, of shrewdapprehension; and I should have thought it might have occurred to you,that in the present suspicious times, men may, without censure, avoidcommunication with strangers. You know not me; and to me you are totallyunknown. There is not room for much discourse between us, withouttrespassing on the general topics of the day, which carry in them seedsof quarrel between friends, much more betwixt strangers. At any othertime, the society of an intelligent companion would have been mostacceptable upon my solitary ride; but at present----"

  "At present!" said the other, interrupting him. "You are like the oldRomans, who held that _hostis_ meant both a stranger and an enemy.I will therefore be no longer a stranger. My name is Ganlesse--byprofession I am a Roman Catholic priest--I am travelling here in dreadof my life--and I am very glad to have you for a companion."

  "I thank you for the information with all my heart," said Peveril; "andto avail myself of it to the uttermost, I must beg you to ride forward,or lag behind, or take a side-path, at your own pleasure; for as I amno Catholic, and travel upon business of high concernment, I am exposedboth to risk and delay, and even to danger, by keeping such suspiciouscompany. And so, Master Ganlesse, keep your own pace, and I will keepthe contrary; for I beg leave to forbear your company."

  As Peveril spoke thus, he pulled up his horse, and made a full stop.

  The stranger burst out a-laughing. "What!" he said, "you forbear mycompany for a trifle of danger? Saint Anthony! How the warm blood ofthe Cavaliers is chilled in the young men of the present day! Thisyoung gallant, now, has a father, I warrant, who has endured as manyadventures for hunting priests, as a knight-errant for distresseddamsels."

  "This raillery avails nothing, sir," said Peveril. "I must request youwill k
eep your own way."

  "My way is yours," said the pertinacious Master Ganlesse, as he calledhimself; "and we will both travel the safer, that we journey in company.I have the receipt of fern-seed, man, and walk invisible. Besides, youwould not have me quit you in this lane, where there is no turn to rightor left?"

  Peveril moved on, desirous to avoid open violence--for which theindifferent tone of the traveller, indeed, afforded no apt pretext--yethighly disliking his company, and determined to take the firstopportunity to rid himself of it.

  The stranger proceeded at the same pace with him, keeping cautiously onhis bridle hand, as if to secure that advantage in case of a struggle.But his language did not intimate the least apprehension. "You do mewrong," he said to Peveril, "and you equally wrong yourself. You areuncertain where to lodge to-night--trust to my guidance. Here is anancient hall, within four miles, with an old knightly Pantaloon for itslord--an all-be-ruffed Dame Barbara for the lady gay--a Jesuit, in abutler's habit, to say grace--an old tale of Edgehill and Worster fightsto relish a cold venison pasty, and a flask of claret mantled withcobwebs--a bed for you in the priest's hiding-hole--and, for aught Iknow, pretty Mistress Betty, the dairy-maid, to make it ready."

  "This has no charms for me, sir," said Peveril, who, in spite ofhimself, could not but be amused with the ready sketch which thestranger gave of many an old mansion in Cheshire and Derbyshire, wherethe owners retained the ancient faith of Rome.

  "Well, I see I cannot charm you in this way," continued his companion;"I must strike another key. I am no longer Ganlesse, the seminarypriest, but (changing his tone, and snuffling in the nose) Simon Canter,a poor preacher of the Word, who travels this way to call sinners torepentance; and to strengthen, and to edify, and to fructify among thescattered remnant who hold fast the truth.--What say you to this, sir?"

  "I admire your versatility, sir, and could be entertained with it atanother time. At present sincerity is more in request."

  "Sincerity!" said the stranger;--"a child's whistle, with but two notesin it--yea, yea, and nay, nay. Why, man, the very Quakers have renouncedit, and have got in its stead a gallant recorder, called Hypocrisy, thatis somewhat like Sincerity in form, but of much greater compass, andcombines the whole gamut. Come, be ruled--be a disciple of Simon Canterfor the evening, and we will leave the old tumble-down castle of theknight aforesaid, on the left hand, for a new brick-built mansion,erected by an eminent salt-boiler from Namptwich, who expects the saidSimon to make a strong spiritual pickle for the preservation of a soulsomewhat corrupted by the evil communications of this wicked world.What say you? He has two daughters--brighter eyes never beamed under apinched hood; and for myself, I think there is more fire in those wholive only to love and to devotion, than in your court beauties, whosehearts are running on twenty follies besides. You know not the pleasureof being conscience-keeper to a pretty precisian, who in one breathrepeats her foibles, and in the next confesses her passion. Perhaps,though, you may have known such in your day? Come, sir, it grows toodark to see your blushes; but I am sure they are burning on your cheek."

  "You take great freedom, sir," said Peveril, as they now approached theend of the lane, where it opened on a broad common; "and you seem ratherto count more on my forbearance, than you have room to do with safety.We are now nearly free of the lane which has made us companions for thislate half hour. To avoid your farther company, I will take the turn tothe left, upon that common; and if you follow me, it shall be at yourperil. Observe, I am well armed; and you will fight at odds."

  "Not at odds," returned the provoking stranger, "while I have my brownjennet, with which I can ride round and round you at pleasure; and thistext, of a handful in length (showing a pistol which he drew from hisbosom), which discharges very convincing doctrine on the pressure of aforefinger, and is apt to equalise all odds, as you call them, of youthand strength. Let there be no strife between us, however--the moor liesbefore us--choose your path on it--I take the other."

  "I wish you good night, sir," said Peveril to the stranger. "I ask yourforgiveness, if I have misconstrued you in anything; but the timesare perilous, and a man's life may depend on the society in which hetravels."

  "True," said the stranger; "but in your case, the danger is alreadyundergone, and you should seek to counteract it. You have travelled inmy company long enough to devise a handsome branch of the Popish Plot.How will you look, when you see come forth, in comely folio form, TheNarrative of Simon Canter, otherwise called Richard Ganlesse, concerningthe horrid Popish Conspiracy for the Murder of the King, and Massacreof all Protestants, as given on oath to the Honourable House of Commons;setting forth, how far Julian Peveril, younger of Martindale Castle, isconcerned in carrying on the same----"

  "How, sir? What mean you?" said Peveril, much startled.

  "Nay, sir," replied his companion, "do not interrupt my title-page.Now that Oates and Bedloe have drawn the great prizes, the subordinatediscoverers get little but by the sale of their Narrative; and Janeway,Newman, Simmons, and every bookseller of them, will tell you that thetitle is half the narrative. Mine shall therefore set forth the variousschemes you have communicated to me, of landing ten thousand soldiersfrom the Isle of Man upon the coast of Lancashire; and marching intoWales, to join the ten thousand pilgrims who are to be shipped fromSpain; and so completing the destruction of the Protestant religion,and of the devoted city of London. Truly, I think such a Narrative, wellspiced with a few horrors, and published _cum privilegio parliamenti_,might, though the market be somewhat overstocked, be still worth sometwenty or thirty pieces."

  "You seem to know me, sir," said Peveril; "and if so, I think I mayfairly ask you your purpose in thus bearing me company, and the meaningof all this rhapsody. If it be mere banter, I can endure it withinproper limit; although it is uncivil on the part of a stranger. If youhave any farther purpose, speak it out; I am not to be trifled with."

  "Good, now," said the stranger, laughing, "into what an unprofitablechafe you have put yourself! An Italian _fuoruscito_, when he desiresa parley with you, takes aim from behind a wall, with his long gun, andprefaces his conference with _Posso tirare_. So does your man-of-warfire a gun across the bows of a Hansmogan Indiaman, just to bring herto; and so do I show Master Julian Peveril, that, if I were one of thehonourable society of witnesses and informers, with whom his imaginationhas associated me for these two hours past, he is as much within mydanger now, as what he is ever likely to be." Then, suddenly changinghis tone to serious, which was in general ironical, he added, "Youngman, when the pestilence is diffused through the air of a city, it is invain men would avoid the disease, by seeking solitude, and shunning thecompany of their fellow-sufferers."

  "In what, then, consists their safety?" said Peveril, willing toascertain, if possible, the drift of his companion's purpose.

  "In following the counsels of wise physicians;" such was the stranger'sanswer.

  "And as such," said Peveril, "you offer me your advice?"

  "Pardon me, young man," said the stranger haughtily, "I see no reasonI should do so.--I am not," he added, in his former tone, "your fee'dphysician--I offer no advice--I only say it would be wise that yousought it."

  "And from whom, or where, can I obtain it?" said Peveril. "I wander inthis country like one in a dream; so much a few months have changed it.Men who formerly occupied themselves with their own affairs, are nowswallowed up in matters of state policy; and those tremble under theapprehension of some strange and sudden convulsion of empire, who wereformerly only occupied by the fear of going to bed supperless. And tosum up the matter, I meet a stranger apparently well acquainted with myname and concerns, who first attaches himself to me, whether I will orno; and then refuses me an explanation of his business, while he menacesme with the strangest accusations."

  "Had I meant such infamy," said the stranger, "believe me, I had notgiven you the thread of my intrigue. But be wise, and come one withme. There is, hard by, a small inn, where, if you can take a stranger'swarrant for it,
we shall sleep in perfect security."

  "Yet, you yourself," said Peveril, "but now were anxious to avoidobservation; and in that case, how can you protect me?"

  "Pshaw! I did but silence that tattling landlady, in the way in whichsuch people are most readily hushed; and for Topham, and his braceof night owls, they must hawk at other and lesser game than I shouldprove."

  Peveril could not help admiring the easy and confident indifferencewith which the stranger seemed to assume a superiority to all thecircumstances of danger around him; and after hastily considering thematter with himself, came to the resolution to keep company with him forthis night at least; and to learn, if possible, who he really was, andto what party in the estate he was attached. The boldness and freedomof his talk seemed almost inconsistent with his following the perilous,though at that time the gainful trade of an informer. No doubt, suchpersons assumed every appearance which could insinuate them into theconfidence of their destined victims; but Julian thought he discoveredin this man's manner, a wild and reckless frankness, which he could notbut connect with the idea of sincerity in the present case. He thereforeanswered, after a moment's recollection, "I embrace your proposal, sir;although, by doing so, I am reposing a sudden, and perhaps an unwary,confidence."

  "And what am I, then, reposing in you?" said the stranger. "Is not ourconfidence mutual?"

  "No; much the contrary. I know nothing of you whatever--you have namedme; and, knowing me to be Julian Peveril, know you may travel with me inperfect security."

  "The devil I do!" answered his companion. "I travel in the same securityas with a lighted petard, which I may expect to explode every moment.Are you not the son of Peveril of the Peak, with whose name Prelacyand Popery are so closely allied, that no old woman of either sex inDerbyshire concludes her prayer without a petition to be freed from allthree? And do you not come from the Popish Countess of Derby, bringing,for aught I know, a whole army of Manxmen in your pocket, withfull complement of arms, ammunition, baggage, and a train of fieldartillery?"

  "It is not very likely I should be so poorly mounted," said Julian,laughing, "if I had such a weight to carry. But lead on, sir. I see Imust wait for your confidence, till you think proper to confer it; foryou are already so well acquainted with my affairs, that I have nothingto offer you in exchange for it."

  "_Allons_, then," said his companion; "give your horse the spur, andraise the curb rein, lest he measure the ground with his nose instead ofhis paces. We are not now more than a furlong or two from the place ofentertainment."

  They mended their pace accordingly, and soon arrived at the smallsolitary inn which the traveller had mentioned. When its light began totwinkle before them, the stranger, as if recollecting something he hadforgotten, "By the way, you must have a name to pass by; for it may beill travelling under your own, as the fellow who keeps this house isan old Cromwellian. What will you call yourself?--My name is--for thepresent--Ganlesse."

  "There is no occasion to assume a name at all," answered Julian. "I donot incline to use a borrowed one, especially as I may meet with someone who knows my own."

  "I will call you Julian, then," said Master Ganlesse; "for Peveril willsmell, in the nostrils of mine host, of idolatry, conspiracy, Smithfieldfaggots, fish on Fridays, the murder of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, and thefire of purgatory."

  As he spoke thus, they alighted under the great broad-branched oak tree,that served to canopy the ale-bench, which, at an earlier hour, hadgroaned under the weight of a frequent conclave of rustic politicians.Ganlesse, as he dismounted, whistled in a particularly shrill note, andwas answered from within the house.