“You see but the outward man,” he replied; “the change within is yet deeper. But it was not of myself that I desired to talk—I have already said, that as you have preserved my child from the darkness of the grave, I would willingly preserve yours from that more utter darkness, which, I fear, hath involved the path and walks of his father.”
“I must not hear this of Sir Geoffrey,” said the Lady Peveril; “I must bid you farewell for the present; and when we again meet at a more suitable time, I will at least listen to your advice concerning Julian, although I should not perhaps incline to it.”
“That more suitable time may never come,” replied Bridgenorth. “Time wanes, eternity draws nigh. Hearken! it is said to be your purpose to send the young Julian to be bred up in yonder bloody island, under the hand of your kinswoman, that cruel murderess, by whom was done to death a man more worthy of vital existence than any that she can boast among her vaunted ancestry. These are current tidings—Are they true?”
“I do not blame you, Master Bridgenorth, for thinking harshly of my cousin of Derby,” said Lady Peveril; “nor do I altogether vindicate the rash action of which she hath been guilty. Nevertheless, in her habitation, it is my husband’s opinion and my own, that Julian may be trained in the studies and accomplishments becoming his rank, along with the young Earl of Derby.”
“Under the curse of God, and the blessing of the Pope of Rome,” said Bridgenorth. “You, lady, so quick-sighted in matters of earthly prudence, are you blind to the gigantic pace at which Rome is moving to regain this country, once the richest gem in her usurped tiara? The old are seduced by gold—the youth by pleasure—the weak by flattery—cowards by fear—and the courageous by ambition. A thousand baits for each taste, and each bait concealing the same deadly hook.”
“I am well aware, Master Bridgenorth,” said Lady Peveril, “that my kinswoman is a Catholic;[*] but her son is educated in the Church of England’s principles, agreeably to the command of her deceased husband.”
[*] I have elsewhere noticed that this is a deviation from
the truth Charlotte, Countess of Derby, was a Huguenot.
“Is it likely,” answered Bridgenorth, “that she, who fears not shedding the blood of the righteous, whether on the field or scaffold, will regard the sanction of her promise when her religion bids her break it? Or, if she does, what shall your son be the better, if he remain in the mire of his father? What are your Episcopal tenets but mere Popery? save that ye have chosen a temporal tyrant for your Pope, and substitute a mangled mass in English for that which your predecessors pronounced in Latin.—But why speak I of these things to one who hath ears, indeed, and eyes, yet cannot see, listen to, or understand what is alone worthy to be heard, seen, and known? Pity that what hath been wrought so fair and exquisite in form and disposition, should be yet blind, deaf, and ignorant, like the things which perish!”
“We shall not agree on these subjects, Master Bridgenorth,” said the lady, anxious still to escape from this strange conference, though scarce knowing what to apprehend; “once more, I must bid you farewell.”
“Stay yet an instant,” he said, again laying his hand on her arm; “I would stop you if I saw you rushing on the brink of an actual precipice—let me prevent you from a danger still greater. How shall I work upon your unbelieving mind? Shall I tell you that the debt of bloodshed yet remains a debt to be paid by the bloody house of Derby? And wilt thou send thy son to be among those from whom it shall be exacted?”