“Since it is to be thus,” said Sir Jasper, “I must myself do violence to the seal of Sir Geoffrey’s letter, and read it to you, that I may fully acquit myself of the charge entrusted to me, and make you, Master Bridgenorth, equally aware of the generous intentions of Sir Geoffrey on your behalf.”
“If,” said Major Bridgenorth, “the contents of the letter be to no other purpose than you have intimated, methinks farther ceremony is unnecessary on this occasion, as I have already taken my course.”
“Nevertheless,” said Sir Jasper, breaking open the letter, “it is fitting that I read to you the letter of my worshipful friend.” And he read accordingly as follows:—
“For the worthy hands of Ralph Bridgenorth, Esquire, of
Moultrassie Hall—These:
“By the honoured conveyance of the Worshipful Sir Jasper
Cranbourne, Knight, of Long-Mallington.
“Master Bridgenorth,—We have been given to understand by your
letter to our loving wife, Dame Margaret Peveril, that you hold
hard construction of certain passages betwixt you and I, of a late
date, as if your honour should have been, in some sort, prejudiced
by what then took place. And although you have not thought it fit
to have direct recourse to me, to request such satisfaction as is
due from one gentleman of condition to another, yet I am fully
minded that this proceeds only from modesty, arising out of the
distinction of our degree, and from no lack of that courage which
you have heretofore displayed, I would I could say in a good
cause. Wherefore I am purposed to give you, by my friend, Sir
Jasper Cranbourne, a meeting, for the sake of doing that which
doubtless you entirely long for. Sir Jasper will deliver you the
length of my weapon, and appoint circumstances and an hour for our
meeting; which, whether early or late—on foot or horseback—with
rapier or backsword—I refer to yourself, with all the other
privileges of a challenged person; only desiring, that if you
decline to match my weapon, you will send me forthwith the length
and breadth of your own. And nothing doubting that the issue of
this meeting must needs be to end, in one way or other, all
unkindness betwixt two near neighbours,—I remain, your humble
servant to command,
“Geoffrey Peveril of the Peak.”
“Given from my poor house of Martindale Castle, this same ____ of
____, sixteen hundred and sixty.”
“Bear back my respects to Sir Geoffrey Peveril,” said Major Bridgenorth. “According to his light, his meaning may be fair towards me; but tell him that our quarrel had its rise in his own wilful aggression towards me; and that though I wish to be in charity with all mankind, I am not so wedded to his friendship as to break the laws of God, and run the risk of suffering or committing murder, in order to regain it. And for you, sir, methinks your advanced years and past misfortunes might teach you the folly of coming on such idle errands.”
“I shall do your message, Master Ralph Bridgenorth,” said Sir Jasper; “and shall then endeavour to forget your name, as a sound unfit to be pronounced, or even remembered, by a man of honour. In the meanwhile, in return for your uncivil advice, be pleased to accept of mine; namely, that as your religion prevents your giving a gentleman satisfaction, it ought to make you very cautious of offering him provocation.”
So saying, and with a look of haughty scorn, first at the Major, and then at the divine, the envoy of Sir Geoffrey put his hat on his head, replaced his rapier in its belt, and left the apartment. In a few minutes afterwards, the tread of his horse died away at a considerable distance.
Bridgenorth had held his hand upon his brow ever since his departure, and a tear of anger and shame was on his face as he raised it when the sound was heard no more. “He carries this answer to Martindale Castle,” he said. “Men will hereafter think of me as a whipped, beaten, dishonourable fellow, whom every one may baffle and insult at their pleasure. It is well I am leaving the house of my father.”
Master Solsgrace approached his friend with much sympathy, and grasped him by the hand. “Noble brother,” he said, with unwonted kindness of manner, “though a man of peace, I can judge what this sacrifice hath cost to thy manly spirit. But God will not have from us an imperfect obedience. We must not, like Ananias and Sapphira, reserve behind some darling lust, some favourite sin, while we pretend to make sacrifice of our worldly affections. What avails it to say that we have but secreted a little matter, if the slightest remnant of the accursed thing remain hidden in our tent? Would it be a defence in thy prayers to say, I have not murdered this man for the lucre of gain, like a robber—nor for the acquisition of power, like a tyrant,—nor for the gratification of revenge, like a darkened savage; but because the imperious voice of worldly honour said, ‘Go forth—kill or be killed—is it not I that have sent thee?’ Bethink thee, my worthy friend, how thou couldst frame such a vindication in thy prayers; and if thou art forced to tremble at the blasphemy of such an excuse, remember in thy prayers the thanks due to Heaven, which enabled thee to resist the strong temptation.”
“Reverend and dear friend,” answered Bridgenorth, “I feel that you speak the truth. Bitterer, indeed, and harder, to the old Adam, is the text which ordains him to suffer shame, than that which bids him to do valiantly for the truth. But happy am I that my path through the wilderness of this world will, for some space at least, be along with one, whose zeal and friendship are so active to support me when I am fainting in the way.”