"Ha!" cried Howlet, interrupting Mr Lorimer in a tremendous passion, "what says the varlet? He is a heathen Turk, and no Christian. How dares he talk so of the church?" The old man rose as he spoke, and, suddenly catching hold of the enormous ebony walking-stick, which generally reposed at the side of his chair, he aimed a blow with all his force at the unfortunate songster; but, being blind, and not calculating his distance, his staff fell with tremendous effect on the left eye of Sir Bryan de Barreilles.
"Is it so?" cried the Knight, stunned; but resisting the tendency to prostration produced by the stroke, and flinging a large silver flagon across the table, which missed Dr Howlet, and made a deep indentation in the skull of Maulerer of Phascald—"Now, then!"
Hasket of Norland attempted to hold Sir Bryan, and prevent his following up his attack; and Mr Maulerer recovered sufficiently to fling the heavy candlestick at his assailant; the branches of which hit the cheek of Hasket, while the massive bottom ejected the three front teeth of Sir Bryan.
There was now no possibility of preventing the quarrel; and while the four strangers were pounding each other with whatever weapons came first to hand, and Mr Peeper crept under the table for safety, and Reginald essayed to talk them into reason, Mr Lutter politely handed Jane to the door of the hall.
"Permit me, madam, to rescue you from this dreadful scene."
"Is it thus always?" enquired Jane, nearly weeping with fright.
"There are many things that may be improved in the castle," said Mr Lutter. "I have seen the necessity of an alteration for a long time, and, if you will favour me with your assistance, much may be done."
"Oh! I will help you to the utmost of my power."
"We must upset the influence of Mr Peeper," said Mr Lutter. "May I speak to you on the subject to-morrow?"
A month had passed since Jane's arrival at Belfront Castle, and she had had many private and confidential conversations with Mr Lutter. The ominous eyes of Mr Peeper grew fiercer and fiercer, and she many times thought of coming to an open rupture with him at once; but was deterred from doing so, by not yet having ascertained whether her influence over Reginald was sufficiently established to stand a contest with the authority of his ancient friend. She could not understand how her husband could have remained hoodwinked so long; or how he had submitted to the despotic proceedings of his former tutor, who persisted in assembling the same airs of authority over him, as he had exercised when he was a child. Such, however, was evidently the case; and Reginald had never entertained a thought of rescuing himself from the thraldom in which he had grown up. A look from Mr Peeper; a solemn statement from him, that such and such things had never been heard of before in Belfront; and, above all, the use of the muttered and unintelligible jargon to which Mr Peeper betook himself in matters of weight and difficulty, were quite sufficient: Reginald immediately gave up his own judgment, and felt in fact rather ashamed of himself for having hinted that he had a judgement at all. Under these circumstances, Mr Lutter had a very difficult part to play; and all that Jane could do, was to second him whenever she had the opportunity. One day, in the lovely month of April, Phil Lorimer sat on a sunny part of the enornous wall that guarded the castle, and leaning his back against one of the little square towers that rose at intervals in the circuit of the fortifications, sang song after song, as if for the edification of a number of crows that were perched on the trees on the other side of the moat. The audience were grossly inattentive, and paid no respect whatever to the performer, who still continued his exertions, as highly satisfied as if he were applauded by boxes, pit, and gallery of a crowded theatre:—Among others, he sang the ballad of the "Silver Scarf."