h felt himself
as yet unable to make up his mind to the effort necessary to see his
infant; and though separated by so short a distance from the being
in whose existence he was more interested than in anything the world
afforded, he only made himself acquainted with the windows of the
apartment where little Alice was lodged, and was often observed to
watch them from the terrace, as they brightened in the evening under the
influence of the setting sun. In truth, though a strong-minded man in
most respects, he was unable to lay aside the gloomy impression that
this remaining pledge of affection was soon to be conveyed to that grave
which had already devoured all besides that was dear to him; and he
awaited in miserable suspense the moment when he should hear that
symptoms of the fatal malady had begun to show themselves.

The voice of Peveril continued to be that of a comforter until the month
of April 1660, when it suddenly assumed a new and different tone. "The
King shall enjoy his own again," far from ceasing, as the hasty tread
of Black Hastings came up the avenue, bore burden to the clatter of
his hoofs on the paved courtyard, as Sir Geoffrey sprang from his great
war-saddle, now once more garnished with pistols of two feet in length,
and, armed with steel-cap, back and breast, and a truncheon in his hand,
he rushed into the apartment of the astonished Major, with his eyes
sparkling, and his cheek inflamed, while he called out, "Up! up,
neighbour! No time now to mope in the chimney-corner! Where is your
buff-coat and broadsword, man? Take the true side once in your life, and
mend past mistakes. The King is all lenity, man--all royal nature and
mercy. I will get your full pardon."

"What means all this?" said Bridgenorth--"Is all well with you--all well
at Martindale Castle, Sir Geoffrey?"

"Well as you could wish them, Alice, and Julian, and all. But I have
news worth twenty of that--Monk has declared at London against those
stinking scoundrels the Rump. Fairfax is up in Yorkshire--for the
King--for the King, man! Churchmen, Presbyterians, and all, are in buff
and bandoleer for King Charles. I have a letter from Fairfax to secure
Derby and Chesterfield with all the men I can make. D--n him, fine that
I should take orders from him! But never mind that--all are friends now,
and you and I, good neighbour, will charge abreast, as good neighbours
should. See there! read--read--read--and then boot and saddle in an
insta