liberality
towards the Presbyterian party with great indignation.

"I could have admitted Bridgenorth," he said, "for he always bore him
in neighbourly and kindly fashion till this last career--I could have
endured him, so he would have drunk the King's health, like a true
man--but to bring that snuffling scoundrel Solsgrace, with all his
beggarly, long-eared congregation, to hold a conventicle in my father's
house--to let them domineer it as they listed--why, I would not have
permitted them such liberty, when they held their head the highest! They
never, in the worst of times, found any way into Martindale Castle but
what Noll's cannon made for them; and that they should come and cant
there, when good King Charles is returned--By my hand, Dame Margaret
shall hear of it!"

But, notwithstanding these ireful resolutions, resentment altogether
subsided in the honest Knight's breast, when he saw the fair features of
his lady lightened with affectionate joy at his return in safety. As he
took her in his arms and kissed her, he forgave her ere he mentioned her
offence.

"Thou hast played the knave with me, Meg," he said, shaking his head,
and smiling at the same time, "and thou knowest in what manner; but I
think thou art true church-woman, and didst only act from silly womanish
fancy of keeping fair with these roguish Roundheads. But let me have no
more of this. I had rather Martindale Castle were again rent by their
bullets, than receive any of the knaves in the way of friendship--I
always except Ralph Bridgenorth of the Hall, if he should come to his
senses again."

Lady Peveril was here under the necessity of explaining what she had
heard of Master Bridgenorth--the disappearance of the governante with
his daughter, and placed Bridgenorth's letter in his hand. Sir Geoffrey
shook his head at first, and then laughed extremely at the idea that
there was some little love-intrigue between Bridgenorth and Mistress
Deborah.

"It is the true end of a dissenter," he said, "to marry his own
maid-servant, or some other person's. Deborah is a good likely wench,
and on the merrier side of thirty, as I should think."

"Nay, nay," said the Lady Peveril, "you are as uncharitable as
Ellesmere--I believe it but to be affection to his child."

"Pshaw! pshaw!" answered the Knight, "women are eternally thinking of
children; but among men, dame, many one carresses the infant that he
may kiss the child's maid; and where's the wonder or