agitation, whoever disbelieves the least tittle of the
enormous improbabilities which have been accumulated by these wretched
reformers, is instantly hunted down, as one who would smother the
discovery of the Plot. It is indeed an awful tempest; and, remote as we
lie from its sphere, we must expect soon to feel its effects."

"Lord Derby already told me something of this," said Julian; "and
that there were agents in this island whose object was to excite
insurrection."

"Yes," answered the Countess, and her eye flashed fire as she spoke;
"and had my advice been listened to, they had been apprehended in the
very fact; and so dealt with, as to be a warning to all others how they
sought this independent principality on such an errand. But my son, who
is generally so culpably negligent of his own affairs, was pleased to
assume the management of them upon this crisis."

"I am happy to learn, madam," answered Peveril, "that the measures of
precaution which my kinsman has adopted, have had the complete effect of
disconcerting the conspiracy."

"For the present, Julian; but they should have been such as would have
made the boldest tremble to think of such infringement of our rights in
future. But Derby's present plan is fraught with greater danger; and yet
there is something in it of gallantry, which has my sympathy."

"What is it, madam?" inquired Julian anxiously; "and in what can I aid
it, or avert its dangers?"

"He purposes," said the Countess, "instantly to set forth for London. He
is, he says, not merely the feudal chief of a small island, but one of
the noble Peers of England, who must not remain in the security of an
obscure and distant castle, when his name, or that of his mother, is
slandered before his Prince and people. He will take his place, he says,
in the House of Lords, and publicly demand justice for the insult thrown
on his house, by perjured and interested witnesses."

"It is a generous resolution, and worthy of my friend," said Julian
Peveril. "I will go with him and share his fate, be it what it may."

"Alas, foolish boy!" answered the Countess, "as well may you ask a
hungry lion to feel compassion, as a prejudiced and furious people to do
justice. They are like the madman at the height of frenzy, who murders
without compunction his best and dearest friend; and only wonders and
wails over his own cruelty, when he is recovered from his delirium."

"Pardon me, dearest lady," said Julian, "this can