and prepared to leave the house of his
fathers, in which his parents were now prisoners, and to go, he knew not
whither, under the custody of one known to be the ancient enemy of his
family. He was rather surprised at observing, that Bridgenorth and he
were about to travel without any other attendants.

When they were mounted, and as they rode slowly towards the outer gate
of the courtyard, Bridgenorth said to him, "it is not every one who
would thus unreservedly commit his safety by travelling at night, and
unaided, with the hot-brained youth who so lately attempted his life."

"Master Bridgenorth," said Julian, "I might tell you truly, that I knew
you not at the time when I directed my weapon against you; but I must
also add, that the cause in which I used it, might have rendered me,
even had I known you, a slight respecter of your person. At present,
I do know you; and have neither malice against your person, nor the
liberty of a parent to fight for. Besides, you have my word; and when
was a Peveril known to break it?"

"Ay," replied his companion, "a Peveril--a Peveril of the Peak!--a name
which has long sounded like a war-trumpet in the land; but which has
now perhaps sounded its last loud note. Look back, young man, on the
darksome turrets of your father's house, which uplift themselves above
the sons of their people. Think upon your father, a captive--yourself
in some sort a fugitive--your light quenched--your glory abased--your
estate wrecked and impoverished. Think that Providence has subjected
the destinies of the race of Peveril to one, whom, in their aristocratic
pride, they held as a plebeian upstart. Think of this; and when you
again boast of your ancestry, remember, that he who raiseth the lowly
can also abase the high in heart."

Julian did indeed gaze for an instant, with a swelling heart, upon
the dimly seen turrets of his paternal mansion, on which poured the
moonlight, mixed with long shadows of the towers and trees. But while
he sadly acknowledged the truth of Bridgenorth's observation, he felt
indignant at his ill-timed triumph. "If fortune had followed worth," he
said, "the Castle of Martindale, and the name of Peveril, had afforded
no room for their enemy's vainglorious boast. But those who have
stood high on Fortune's wheel, must abide by the consequence of its
revolutions. This much I will at least say for my father's house,
that it has not stood unhonoured; nor will it fall--if it is to
fa