Volume II Part 17 (1/2)

thy haunches; at thy whys and thy wise speeches. Let me alone wi' the gentles, and get thee to the galkeer. Besides, you see that he knoweth not how to disport himsel' afore people of condition--saving your presence, masters,” said the power predominant, as her husband meekly retreated from the despotic and iron rule of his helpmate.

”Peradventure he doth himself provide tenants for his own graves,”

said the cavalier, thoughtfully; ”but I'll split the knave's chowl, if he dare”----

”You know not him whom you thus accuse,” said a soft musical voice from an inner chamber. ”I know those who would not see him with his foot in a new-made grave for the best rent-roll in Christendom!”

The speaker, as she came forward, bent a glance of reproof towards the stranger.

”And wherefore, my bonny maiden?” inquired he.

”Does he not scent the dying like a raven? When once his eye is upon them they shall not escape. There be some that have seen their last o'

this green earth, and the sky, and yonder bright hills. I trust the destroying angel will pa.s.s by this house!”

”By'r lady,” replied the other hastily, ”the varlet, when I asked whose lodging it should be, answered, mine! holding forth his long skinny paw that I might pay him for the job.”

The maiden listened with a look of terror. She grew pale and almost ghastly; wiping her brow with the corner of her ap.r.o.n, as though in great agitation and perplexity.

There was usually a warm and healthy blush upon her cheek, but it waned suddenly into the dim hue of apprehension, as she replied in a low whisper--

”Ye must not go hence; and yet”----She hesitated, and appeared as though deeply revolving some secret source of both anxiety and alarm.

The cavalier was silent too, but the result of his deliberations was of a nature precisely opposite to that of his fair opponent.

”Our beasts being ready, Chisenhall,” said he to his companion, ”we will depart while the day holds on favourable. We may have worse weather, and still worse quarters, should we tarry here till noontide, as we purposed. But”--and here he looked earnestly at the maiden--”we shall come again, I trust, when they that seek our lives be laid low.”

She put one hand on his arm, speaking not aloud, but with great earnestness--

”Go not; and your lives peradventure shall be given you for a prey.

There is a G.o.dly man hereabout, unto whom I will have recourse; and he shall guide you in this perplexity.”

”We be men having little time to spare, and less inclination--higlers too, into the bargain,” replied he, with a dubious glance toward his friend Chisenhall, who was just despatching the last visible relics of a repast in which he had taken a more than equal share of the duty; ”we are not careful to tarry, or to resort unto such ghostly counsel.

We would rather listen to the lips of those whose least word we covet more than the preaching of either priest or Puritan; but the time is now come when we must eschew even such blessed and holy”----

”There's a time for all things,” said Chisenhall hastily, and as soon as his mouth was at rest from the solid contents with which he had been successfully, and almost uninterruptedly, occupied for the last half-hour; wishful, also, to abate the impression which his companion's indiscreet intimation of dislike to psalm-singers and Puritans might have produced. ”There is a time to buy and to sell, and to get gain; a time to marry, and a time to be merry and be glad:”

here he used a sort of whining snuffle, which frustrated his attempts at neutralising the sarcasms of his friend. ”Being in haste,” he continued, ”we may not profit by thy discourse; but commend ourselves to his prayers until our return, which, G.o.d willing, we may safely accomplish in a se'nnight at the farthest.”

”If ye depart, I will not answer for your safe keeping.”

”And if we stay, my pretty maiden, I am fearful we _shall_ be in safe keeping.” An ambiguous smile curled his lip, which she fully understood. Indeed, her manner and appearance were so much superior to her station, that no lady of the best and gentlest blood might have comported herself more excellently before these gay, though disguised cavaliers. There was a natural expression of dignity and high feeling in her demeanour, as if rank and n.o.ble breeding were enclosed in so humble a shrine, visible indeed, but still through the medium of a homely but bewitching grace and simplicity. This, in part, might be the consequence of an early residence at Lathom, where, in a few years, she had risen, from a station among the lower domestics to a confidential place about the person of the countess. Here she excited no small share of admiration; and it was partly to avoid the fervid advances of some vivacious gallants that she resolved on quitting so exposed and dangerous a position; the more especially as the lowering aspect of the times, and the uncertain termination of the coming struggle, might have left her without a protector, and at the mercy of the lawless ruffians who were not wanting on either side. Retiring home without regret, she had imbibed, from the ministrations of a zealous and conscientious advocate of the republican party, a relish for the doctrines and self-denying exercises of the Puritans, with whom she usually a.s.sociated in their religious a.s.semblies.

”Do ye purpose, then, for Knowsley to-day?” she inquired, after a short silence.

”Yea; unless our present dilemma, and the obstruction thereby, turn aside the current of our intent.”

”Pray Heaven it may!” said the maiden, with great fervour; ”for I do fear me that some who are not of a G.o.dly sort are abiding there--even they with whom righteous and well-ordered men should not consort withal.”

”Heed not. Being of them who are not righteous overmuch, we can bear unharmed the scoffs of prelatists and self-seekers.”