Peveril of the Peak

by Walter Scott

Lady Peveril broke her letter hastily open, and found that it contained the following lines:—

“For the Hands of the Honourable and Honoured Lady Peveril—
These:
“Madam—Please it your Ladyship,—I write more to excuse myself to
your ladyship, than to accuse either you or others, in respect
that I am sensible it becomes our frail nature better to confess
our own imperfections, than to complain of those of others.
Neither do I mean to speak of past times, particularly in respect
of your worthy ladyship, being sensible that if I have served you
in that period when our Israel might be called triumphant, you
have more than requited me, in giving to my arms a child,
redeemed, as it were, from the vale of the shadow of death. And
therefore, as I heartily forgive to your ladyship the unkind and
violent measure which you dealt to me at our last meeting (seeing
that the woman who was the cause of strife is accounted one of
your kindred people), I do entreat you, in like manner, to pardon
my enticing away from your service the young woman called Deborah
Debbitch, whose direction, is, it may be, indispensable to the
health of my dearest child. I had purposed, madam, with your
gracious permission, that Alice should have remained at Martindale
Castle, under your kind charge, until she could so far discern
betwixt good and evil, that it should be matter of conscience to
teach her the way in which she should go. For it is not unknown to
your ladyship, and in no way do I speak it reproachfully, but
rather sorrowfully, that a person so excellently gifted as
yourself—I mean touching natural qualities—has not yet received
that true light, which is a lamp to the paths, but are contented
to stumble in darkness, and among the graves of dead men. It has
been my prayer in the watches of the night, that your ladyship
should cease from the doctrine which causeth to err; but I grieve
to say, that our candlestick being about to be removed, the land
will most likely be involved in deeper darkness than ever; and the
return of the King, to which I and many looked forward as a
manifestation of divine favour, seems to prove little else than a
permitted triumph of the Prince of the Air, who setteth about to
restore his Vanity-fair of bishops, deans, and such like,
extruding the peaceful ministers of the word, whose labours have
proved faithful to many hungry souls. So, hearing from a sure
hand, that commission has gone forth to restore these dumb dogs,
the followers of Laud and of Williams, who were cast forth by the
late Parliament, and that an Act of Conformity, or rather of
deformity, of worship, was to be expected, it is my purpose to
flee from the wrath to come, and to seek some corner where I may
dwell in peace, and enjoy liberty of conscience. For who would
abide in the Sanctuary, after the carved work thereof is broken
down, and when it hath been made a place for owls, and satyrs of
the wilderness?—And herein I blame myself, madam, that I went in
the singleness of my heart too readily into that carousing in the
house of feasting, wherein my love of union, and my desire to show
respect to your ladyship, were made a snare to me. But I trust it
will be an atonement, that I am now about to absent myself from
the place of my birth, and the house of my fathers, as well as
from the place which holdeth the dust of those pledges of my
affection. I have also to remember, that in this land my honour
(after the worldly estimation) hath been abated, and my utility
circumscribed, by your husband, Sir Geoffrey Peveril; and that
without any chance of my obtaining reparation at his hand, whereby
I may say the hand of a kinsman was lifted up against my credit
and my life. These things are bitter to the taste of the old Adam;
wherefore to prevent farther bickerings, and, it may be,
bloodshed, it is better that I leave this land for a time. The
affairs which remain to be settled between Sir Geoffrey and
myself, I shall place in the hand of the righteous Master Joachim
Win-the-Fight, an attorney in Chester, who will arrange them with
such attention to Sir Geoffrey’s convenience, as justice, and the
due exercise of the law, will permit; for, as I trust I shall
have grace to resist the temptation to make the weapons of carnal
warfare the instruments of my revenge, so I scorn to effect it
through the means of Mammon. Wishing, madam, that the Lord may
grant you every blessing, and, in especial, that which is over all
others, namely, the true knowledge of His way, I remain, your
devoted servant to command, RALPH BRIDGENORTH.
“Written at Moultrassie Hall, this tenth
day of July, 1660.”

So soon as Lady Peveril had perused this long and singular homily, in which it seemed to her that her neighbour showed more spirit of religious fanaticism than she could have supposed him possessed of, she looked up and beheld Ellesmere,—with a countenance in which mortification, and an affected air of contempt, seemed to struggle together,—who, tired with watching the expression of her mistress’s countenance, applied for confirmation of her suspicions in plain terms.

“I suppose, madam,” said the waiting-woman, “the fanatic fool intends to marry the wench? They say he goes to shift the country. Truly it’s time, indeed; for, besides that the whole neighbourhood would laugh him to scorn, I should not be surprised if Lance Outram, the keeper, gave him a buck’s head to bear; for that is all in the way of his office.”

“There is no great occasion for your spite at present, Ellesmere,” replied her lady. “My letter says nothing of marriage; but it would appear that Master Bridgenorth, being to leave this country, has engaged Deborah to take care of his child; and I am sure I am heartily glad of it, for the infant’s sake.”

“And I am glad of it for my own,” said Ellesmere; “and, indeed, for the sake of the whole house.—And your ladyship thinks she is not like to be married to him? Troth, I could never see how he should be such an idiot; but perhaps she is going to do worse; for she speaks here of coming to high preferment, and that scarce comes by honest servitude nowadays; then she writes me about sending her things, as if I were mistress of the wardrobe to her ladyship—ay, and recommends Master Julian to the care of my age and experience, forsooth, as if she needed to recommend the dear little jewel to me; and then, to speak of my age—But I will bundle away her rags to the Hall, with a witness!”

“Do it with all civility,” said the lady, “and let Whitaker send her the wages for which she has served, and a broad-piece over and above; for though a light-headed young woman, she was kind to the children.”

“I know who is kind to their servants, madam, and would spoil the best ever pinned a gown.”

“I spoiled a good one, Ellesmere, when I spoiled thee,” said the lady; “but tell Mistress Deborah to kiss the little Alice for me, and to offer my good wishes to Major Bridgenorth, for his temporal and future happiness.”

She permitted no observation or reply, but dismissed her attendant, without entering into farther particulars.