me, for love or gold, let me have a horse to
make for the Castle!"

"The Castle?" said the dame; "the Roundheads, as my poor Roger called
them, will kill you as they have killed your father! Better creep into
the woodhouse, and I will send Bett with a blanket and some supper--Or
stay--my old Dobbin stands in the little stable beside the hencoop--e'en
take him, and make the best of your way out of the country, for there is
no safety here for you. Hear what songs some of them are singing at
the tap!--so take Dobbin, and do not forget to leave your own horse
instead."

Peveril waited to hear no farther, only, that just as he turned to go
off to the stable, the compassionate female was heard to exclaim--"O
Lord! what will Matthew Chamberlain say!" but instantly added, "Let him
say what he will, I may dispose of what's my own."

With the haste of a double-fee'd hostler did Julian exchange the
equipments of his jaded brute with poor Dobbin, who stood quietly
tugging at his rackful of hay, without dreaming of the business which
was that night destined for him. Notwithstanding the darkness of the
place, Julian succeeded marvellous quickly in preparing for his journey;
and leaving his own horse to find its way to Dobbin's rack by instinct,
he leaped upon his new acquisition, and spurred him sharply against the
hill, which rises steeply from the village to the Castle. Dobbin, little
accustomed to such exertions, snorted, panted, and trotted as briskly as
he could, until at length he brought his rider before the entrance-gate
of his father's ancient seat.

The moon was now rising, but the portal was hidden from its beams, being
situated, as we have mentioned elsewhere, in a deep recess betwixt two
large flanking towers. Peveril dismounted, turned his horse loose, and
advanced to the gate, which, contrary to his expectation, he found open.
He entered the large courtyard; and could then perceive that lights yet
twinkled in the lower part of the building, although he had not before
observed them, owing to the height of the outward walls. The main door,
or great hall-gate, as it was called, was, since the partially decayed
state of the family, seldom opened, save on occasions of particular
ceremony. A smaller postern door served the purpose of ordinary
entrance; and to that Julian now repaired. This also was open--a
circumstance which would of itself have alarmed him, had he not already
had so many causes for apprehension. His hea