•^ 
 
 J^~
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ^23 
 
 V. I 
 
 h^ 
 
 ^
 
 ■: 
 
 
 ( 
 
 a
 
 THE 
 
 PASTOR'S.li'IRE-SIDE, 
 
 A 
 
 NOVEL, 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 MISS JANE PORTER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THADDEU9 OF WARSAW, SIDNEY*S APHORlSilSj 
 AND THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 
 
 I will confess the ambitious projects which I once had, 
 are dead within me. After having seen the parts which fools 
 play upon the great stage ; a few books, and a few frifnds, 
 are what I shall seek to finish my days with. tweddei x. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1817.
 
 ^ "Z 'Zt^Au-itc^^' 
 
 THE 
 
 PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE, 
 
 CHAP. L 
 
 It was late one fine evening in Septem- 
 ber, when a boat, borne along by a single 
 sail, passed over the narrow sea which di- 
 vides Lindisfarne from the mainland, and 
 moored itself within the small bay of ^:he 
 island. The moon was beginning to rise ; 
 and by her silvering outline, already 
 distinguished the venerable relics of Saint 
 Cuthbert's monastery from the shadows 
 of twilight. 
 
 Two persons wrapped in large cloaks, 
 and followed by one who seemed a ser- 
 vant, rose from the boat ; and giving a 
 piece of gold to their solitary navigator, 
 
 VO..X. ^,g^4
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 stepped on sliore. The elder of the two 
 made the sign of the cross upon his breast, 
 and with his eyes bent to tlie ground, 
 w^alked slowly forward. The younger 
 performed the same act of devotion, 
 though in a less iixed manner, and shiver- 
 ing as he looked up to the flying clouds, 
 followed his companion. Having pro- 
 ceeded over sand and shingle with- 
 out discerning any thing like an in- 
 habited dwelling, he began to doubt the 
 boatman's information respecting the si- 
 tuation of their purposed lodgings ; and, 
 looking around for some other intelli- 
 gence, perceived a group of fishermen 
 on a shelve of the rock. — By the assist- 
 ance of his servant, he scrambled up the 
 acclivity, and enquired the way to the 
 Reverend Richard Athelstone's. — One 
 of the men, raising himself from the heap 
 of gathered nets they had been drying on 
 the rocks, pointed along the top of the 
 cliff, and told him to keep on, west of the 
 abbey, when he would soon see the
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 3 
 
 church, and the Pastor's house beside 
 it. 
 
 The travellers proceeded a little way 
 in the direction given : but finding that 
 the dubious light bewildered them 
 amongst rocks, ruins, and trees, the 
 younger returned to the fisherman, and 
 begged he would conduct them to Mr. 
 Athelstone's. This request was obeyed 
 with the same direct compliance as his 
 question had been answered ; and the 
 man, throwing his net over his shoulder, 
 trudged on before the travellers, — The 
 elder pursued his way in devout abstrac- 
 tion. His eyes were fixed on the distant 
 tower of the monastery ; which, to his 
 mushig fancy, seemed to stand alone in 
 the blight horizon, like the still hovering 
 shade of the glorified saint of the island. 
 
 The way to the Pastor's dwelling lay 
 by the ruins of the wall w^hich had once 
 surrounded the monastery. As the tra- 
 vellers approached it, the roofless aisles 
 and broken arches stood white in the 
 B 2
 
 ^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 moon-beam ; and the windows, partially 
 obscured by the withered stone-crop which 
 sprung from their mouldering columns, 
 tlirew a checquered light on the half-sunk 
 monuments below. — The youth, fatigued 
 in limbs, and depressed in spirits, drew 
 near his companion. The elder traveller 
 pressed the nerveless arm that now rested 
 upon his, and said in a low voice, " What 
 desolation is here ! — Ah, my son, how 
 can we expect peace in the counsels, or 
 virtue in the conduct of a people who 
 tlius dishonour the tombs of the saints." 
 
 " Alas, my lord," replied the young 
 man, "if we must estimate the piety of 
 nations by the unanimity of their councils, 
 we have not much reason, to congratulate 
 ourselves on the holiness of Spain! — 
 Why," added he with asperity, " did her 
 vacillating policy drag us from peaceful 
 Italy? — But for that, we might never 
 have visited these rugged shores." 
 
 ** Ferdinand," rejoined his father, "the 
 disease of your heart, makes you mi**
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. o 
 
 judge your country. — Spain has her er- 
 rors. — But no comparison can be justly 
 drawn between a people that respect the 
 Faith, even to hallowing the ashes of its 
 apostles ; and a race of men, w^ho trample 
 alike on the rights of their kings, and the 
 ordinances of the church : — No good can 
 come to such a people 1" 
 
 The young man shuddered. *< At 
 least," exclaimed he, " no good can come 
 to us, in so excommunicated a land : — 
 though I shall not be sorry to shelter 
 myself from so cutting a blast, even with- 
 in the condemned cell of the heretic Cura 
 of the island." 
 
 The travellers continued to follow their 
 guide over rough ground covered with 
 loose stones, and rendered intricate by 
 the stunted trees which grew in scattered 
 loneliness amongst the detached masses 
 of the decayed monastery. Through the 
 shadowy arches of what had once been a 
 passage to the west cloisters, they espied 
 a distant light. 
 
 b3
 
 O THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SJDE. 
 
 " For your sake, iny son," said the 
 elder stranger, «* 1 hope that portends 
 we are near houses !" 
 
 •* I hope so too, *' rejoined Ferdinand, 
 '* but I also fear, it mav be only the Ian- 
 tern of some vessel, more lucky than we 
 w^ere, passing this desolate rock." 
 
 Having made their way through the 
 varied gloom of the ruins, they came out 
 on a smooth sheep-path. — The abbey 
 now lay behind them. — Before them, 
 rose the spire of the parish chiirch ; and 
 near it, in holy fellowship, stood the par- 
 sonage ; from whose ivy-latticed window 
 still streamed the friendly ray which had 
 guided them to its gate. 
 
 *< This be our pastor's, — and God's 
 blessing abide with him and his !" said 
 the fisherman, pointing with a bow to the 
 house. — Ferdinand put money into the 
 man's hand j and then followed his father 
 and their servant through a wicket into a 
 little green court. They crossed its soft 
 grass, and stooping beneath a low stone 
 porch, knocked at the house-door. It
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 7 
 
 was opened by a hoan''-headed servant, 
 of a hale and cheerful aspect. The elder 
 strancjer asked for the Reverend Richard 
 Athelstone. The old man immediately 
 opened a door at his right hand ; and with- 
 out other reply than a respectful bow, 
 ushered the travellers into the presence 
 of his master. 
 
 The venerable pastor of Lindisfarne 
 advanced to meet his visitors ; who, 
 though unannounced, he saw by their air 
 were foreigners and gentlemen. The 
 elder apologized for their appearance at 
 so late an hour ; saying, they had arrived 
 from Holland at Berwick that morning 
 in the midst of a storm. ** But," said he, 
 " when so fine an evening succeeded, I 
 became too impatient to tread the sacred 
 shore of Lindisfarne ; and to deliver a 
 packet entrusted to me by the Grand- 
 Pensionary Hensius, to delay my coming 
 until another day." 
 
 As the stranger spoke, he presented 
 the packet. Mr. Athelstone received
 
 8 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 it with a hospitable smile : and turnings 
 to a lady, who sat with two younger ones 
 at a work-table near the fire ; " Mrs. Co- 
 ningsby, my dear niece," said he, " wel- 
 come these gentlemen ; they come from 
 a friend of your father's." 
 
 The lady rose ; and gracefully obeyed, 
 by expressing her reverence for the 
 Grand-Pensionary ; and the pleasure she 
 felt in seeing Lindisfarne honoured by his 
 remembrance in the persons of his friends. 
 She then introduced the young ladies as 
 her daughters. The eldest she called 
 Cornelia, and the youngest Ahce. They 
 cast down their eyes, and bowed their 
 fair necks to the strangers, as their mo- 
 ther named them : — and when, on ob- 
 serving the pale countenance of Ferdi- 
 nand, she invited the two gentlemen to 
 draw nearer the fire ; the sisters moved 
 their chairs back, and pursued their 
 needle-work with redoubled industry. 
 
 Mr. Athelstone took a hasty survey of 
 the Grand- Pensionary's letter 5 and fold-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 9 
 
 ing it up, repeated his former polite 
 greeting with the cordial addition of 
 taking the strangers each by tlie hand. 
 
 " Pleased as I was to receive any friend 
 of the Baron Hensius," said he, " how 
 must my pleasure be increased, when I 
 see in that friend the Marquis Santa 
 Cruz !'' 
 
 " The Marquis Santa Cruz !" repeated 
 Mrs. Coningsby, in a tone of delightful 
 surprize. 
 
 The Pastor smiled. — « Your name, 
 my lord, has long been with us. Fame 
 had given it to the world at large ; but it 
 was brought to our remote shores by your 
 noble antagonist Prince Eugene of Sa- 
 voy." 
 
 With a bow to the implied compliment, 
 the Marquis inquired how recently the 
 Prince had been in England. 
 
 " Not very lately," replied Mr. Athel- 
 stone, *' my acquaintance with His High- 
 ness must be dated one and twenty years 
 back; in the spring of 1704, when he 
 B 5
 
 10 THE PASTOR'S FmE-SlDE, 
 
 came to England on a secret mission from 
 the Emperor of Germany. — Having 
 gained our queen's concurrence to sup* 
 port the Imperialists against Bavaria, 
 Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlbo* 
 rough embarked for* Holland. Stress of 
 weather drove their vessel on this coast. 
 I then inhabited Bamborough-Castle, 
 during the absence of my brother Sir 
 Hedworth Athelstone ; and going to the 
 beach to offer the usual assistance to dis- 
 tressed mariners, 1 discovered my friend 
 the Duke, and his noble compeer, in two 
 nameless passengers. They took up their 
 residence with me till the tempest sub- 
 sided, and it lasted many days ; but re- 
 maining unknown to the country, they 
 gave the whole of their society to myself 
 and my niece. It was then, my lord, that 
 in discoursing on the great and good of 
 all countries. Prince Eugene named with 
 friendship the Marquis Santa Cruz ; who, 
 he said, had baffled his best military skill 
 the preceding year in Italy.'*
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 11 
 
 An answering glow of generous admi- 
 ration suffused the face of the Marquis. 
 " Eugene of Savoy," returned he, " can 
 afford such acknowledgements* And, 
 that I did discover, and baffle his designs 
 before the dyke of Zero, I have ever con- 
 sidered the proudest fortune which has 
 hitherto been granted to my military ca- 
 reer. Since that period, I have often met 
 the Prince, both in the field and in the 
 cabinet : and in every character, whether 
 as soldier or as statesman, he has mani- 
 fested that nobleness of soul which com- 
 mands alike the confidence of friends and 
 of enemies-" 
 
 A blush overspread the fine, though 
 matron features of Mrs. Coningsby. 
 ** Ah, my dear uncle," cried she, " why 
 does not Louis hear this, from the Mar- 
 quis Santa Cruz ?" Then rising, she said 
 she would enquire about his return, and 
 left the room. 
 
 " Does Mrs. Coningsby speak of^her 
 son?" asked the Marquis. 
 B 6
 
 1^ THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 " No," said the Pastor, ** the young 
 man she alludes to is the son of her elder 
 sister, now in a better world. His father, 
 you doubtless know ; the Baron de Rip- 
 perda.'* 
 
 " I have not been in Spain these ten 
 years," replied the Marquis ; " but I 
 know the Baron is now there ; and intro- 
 ducing plans of internal policy, worthy 
 the emulation of his own times, and the 
 gratitude of future ages. — Before happy 
 circumstances restored him to Spain, it 
 was never my good fortune to meet him 
 in any of my accidental visits to the Ne- 
 therlands." 
 
 Mr. Athelstone and his noble guest 
 continued their discourse on the pubhc 
 history of the Baron de Ripperda. Re- 
 marking, with some loyal animadversions, 
 on his father Don Juan de Montemar 
 Duke de Ripperda, who, in resentment 
 for some slight from his sovereign, left 
 Spain for the Netherlands ; and, joining 
 himself to the United States, exchanged
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. IS 
 
 his Spanish rank for that of a northern 
 baron. — While the Marquis regretted 
 that his son, the present iUustrious Rip- 
 per da, had ever belonged to any other 
 country than that of his ancestors, he ex- 
 patiated with the pride of a Spaniard on 
 the talents which were now reclaimed by 
 their parent land. Mr. Athelstone, who 
 had all the old-fashioned notions respect- 
 ing amor patriw, rejoined that the satis- 
 factory accomplishment of Baron de Rip- 
 perda's mission as ambassador from the 
 Netherlands to Madrid, had empowered 
 him to resign with honour his bonds to 
 their country ; and to resume his heredi- 
 tary rights in Spain in the manner best 
 calculated to re-establish his house, and 
 to transmit the ancient glories of his 
 family. 
 
 While the Pastor and his guest were 
 engaged in this conversation, Ferdinand 
 leaned exhausted in his chair ; and had 
 leisure to survey the domestic scene 
 around himj so different from the so-
 
 14. THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDB. 
 
 litude he had anticipated in the con- 
 demned cell of the heretic Cura of the 
 island ! — From the window of the room 
 in which he now sat, still issued the light 
 he had seen from afar ; and w^hich had 
 beaconed his weary steps to liis present 
 comfortable station by its source ; a 
 cheerful fire, and a cluster of blazing 
 candles on its chimney-piece. 
 
 Ferdinand could not have been so long 
 in Italy without forming a taste in ar- 
 chitecture ; and he contemplated with 
 admiring curiosity this specimen of Gothic 
 w^orkmanship. It was of a cinque-foil 
 shape, supported by short columns on 
 brackets, and adorned with a projecting 
 frieze, on which stood the lighted branches, 
 with alabaster vases full of autumnal 
 flowers. It appeared to have been trans- 
 lated from some building of older date ; 
 and, indeed, little more than a century 
 before, this very arch had mantled the 
 Abbot's hearth in the good monastery 
 of Lindisfarne.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 15 
 
 Ferdinand next looked at tlie oak- 
 pannelled walls of the room, enlivened 
 by a range of fine portraits in carved 
 ebony frames. These, with a cabinet of 
 curious china, a harpsichord, a well- 
 stored bookcase, and the usual comple- 
 ment of sofas and chairs, completed the 
 furniture. He did not take so cursory 
 a view of its inhabitants. The venerable 
 master of the house sat on one side of 
 the fire-place, talking w4th the Marquis. 
 His silvered hair and benign countenance, 
 blanched and worn by seventy winters, 
 seemed to announce how nearly the di- 
 vine spirit W'ithin had shaken off its 
 earthly tabernacle. The Marquis had 
 never before regarded an avow^ed mi- 
 nister of the Reformation, without a 
 distance in his manner that proclaimed 
 / am near pollution! but now he sat 
 listening to the Pastor with so cordial 
 an air, that Ferdinand murmured to 
 himself; " Ah ! my father, it is toi^late 
 for your unhappy son, should your pre- 
 
 9
 
 16 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 sent feelings towards that good man, 
 indeed, draw away the only prejudice 
 from your noble heart!" He sighed 
 heavily, and turned his attention to the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 The sisters had withdra^vn their chairs 
 far from the fire-side circle, and were 
 plying their needles with indefatigable 
 diligence. Cornelia's raven hair was 
 braided back from her polished brow, 
 and confined in a knot witli a gold bod- 
 kin. The majestic contour of her fea- 
 tures suited well with her Roman name ; 
 and the simplicity of the plain white 
 garment in which she was arrayed, har- 
 monized with the modest dignity of a 
 figure, which proclaimed in every move- 
 ment that the nobility of the soul needs no 
 foreign ornament ! As her fair hand tra- 
 versed the embroidery frame, Ferdinand 
 turned from these lofty beauties, to the 
 gentle Mice; whose charms, if of a 
 feeblgr, were of a subtler force. Her 
 headf which moved about rather oftener
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. J7 
 
 than her sister's, in search of silk, scis- 
 sors, and needles, gave free scope to the 
 contemplation of the young Spaniard, 
 She appeared several years younger than 
 Cornelia. Her form was fairy in its pro- ^ 
 portions ; slight, airy, and apparently 
 impalpable to aught but the touch of a. 
 sylph. Her azure eyes, glancing around 
 for what she sought, shone so lucidly 
 bright from under her flaxen locks, that 
 Ferdinand thought he had never seen 
 eyes so beautiful ; " Never," said he to 
 himself, " so divinely innocent; never 
 so irresistibly exhilarating." 
 
 He continued to gaze, till some bitter 
 recollections caused him to cover his 
 eyes with his hand ; but soon withdraw- 
 ing it, he looked again upon Alice ; and 
 longed to hear her speak, while a sudden 
 self-gratulation on how fluently he could 
 himself discourse in English, animated 
 his before languid features. He observed 
 her turn her head towards the yet un- 
 curtained window. The moon was now
 
 IS THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 holding her bright course in the heavens, 
 without meeting the passing shadow of a 
 single cloMd. He seized the opportunity 
 to address the sisters, and remarked the 
 beauty of the night. 
 
 ** It is calmer than usual, after so tem- 
 pestuous a day," observed Cornelia. 
 
 ** I am glad the winds are quiet," said 
 Alice ; " for we may now look for Louis, 
 without fear of the breakers." 
 
 Ferdinand enquired whether her cousin 
 were to cross the sea that night. 
 
 " We hope so," replied she ; " he 
 went yesterday to Bam.borough Castle ; 
 and I am sure nothing but the storm 
 prevented his returning to us this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 <* Whatever may be the attractions of 
 Bamborough Castle," rejoined Ferdinand, 
 ** I cannot be surprised your cousin 
 should prefer liis home to all other 
 places." He accompanied this remark 
 vnth that sort of smile and bow to Alice, 
 which a woman of the world would have
 
 THE PASTORS FJRE-SIDt:. 19 
 
 understood as a compliment to herself; 
 but Alice was too ignorant of the gal- 
 lantries of fashionable society, to see any 
 thing in this, but the obvious meaning 
 of the words. Cornelia received the 
 speech as her sister had done ; and ex- 
 claimed with a sigh, <* I wish Louis did 
 prefer his home to all other places !" 
 
 '* Why say that, Cornelia ?" said 
 Alice ; •* you know how he loves us all ; 
 how he despises the people he meets .at 
 the Castle ; and you cannot seriously 
 doubt our dear Louis's preference of 
 home to all other places I" 
 
 Ferdinand did not perceive the grounds 
 of conclusion which the fair Alice drew 
 from her argument, but he admired her 
 brightening eyes as she uttered this 
 hasty defence; which he readily appre- 
 hended was intended, rather as a palli- 
 ation to him of her cousin's absence, than 
 any refutation to her sister. Cornelia 
 appeared to understand the same ; for 
 she did not reply, but pensively re-
 
 so THE PASTOR'S FJRE-SIDE. 
 
 Slimed her embroidery. Alice now be- 
 came confused 5 regarding the silence 
 of her sister as a reproof for her having 
 said so much before a stranger, she 
 turned away her head, and with trem- 
 bling hands re-commenced her work. — 
 Ferdinand did not withdraw his eyes from 
 the little table. He wished to see the 
 fortunate cousin, upon whom these lovely 
 sisters lavished so much solicitude ; and 
 he was curious to know who the inhabit- 
 ants of the castle were, whose attractions 
 could excite jealousy in young women so 
 full of charms. 
 
 While he was thus ruminating, Mrs. 
 Coningsby ' entered, to lead her uncle's 
 guests to the supper room. Before they 
 obeyed her hospitable summons, the 
 Marquis requested that he and his son 
 might retire to disencumber themselves 
 of their travelling accoutrements ; and 
 when they had withdrawn, the Pastor 
 took that interval to inform his niece 
 and daughters, that the noble Spaniards
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 21 
 
 were to be his guests for some days. — 
 He read apart to Mrs. Coningsby, the 
 passage of Baron Hensiiis's letter, which 
 mentioned that Don Ferdinand d'Osorio, 
 the Marquis's only son, was the primary 
 cause of this visit to England. — On the 
 Marquis's recall from his diplomatic 
 situation in Italy, he stopped a few 
 months at Vienna, where his wife's 
 family reside. In that city, Don Fer- 
 dinand was seized with a fever on his 
 spirits, which menaced his life. — Medi- 
 cal skill was exhausted ; and as a lost 
 hope, the physicians ordered him to 
 travel. His father knew this darling son 
 had a fatal bond in the Austrian capital ; 
 he therefore saw no alternative but to 
 apply secretly to Spain for the royal 
 mandate, to send both father and son 
 on a seemingly official tour to Holland 
 and Great Britain. It arrived, and the 
 travellers set forward. In Holland, Don 
 Ferdinand's disorder re-doubled. — The 
 Amsterdam physicians recommended a sea
 
 22 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 voyage, and the bracing air of the north ; 
 and as the desponding invaHd now ap- 
 peared indifferent to his fate, the Marquis 
 determined on entering Great Britain by 
 Scotland. He knew that Lindisfarne, 
 the Holi/ Island of unnumbered saints, 
 lay in the way ; and full of parental 
 anxiety, he formed a wish, which he 
 communicated to Baron Hensius, of pro- 
 pitiating a peculiar blessing on this part 
 of his tour, by paying his vows at the 
 shrine of Saint Cuthbert. 
 
 " My friend warns me," continued 
 the Pastor, addressing his younger nieces 
 as well as their mother ; " that the 
 Marquis Santa Cruz is a Roman Catho- 
 lic in the severest sense of the term. — 
 That his mind, enlightened on every 
 other subject, is here under an impene* 
 trable cloud. Indeed, his errand hither is 
 a sufficient proof of his mental darkness. 
 He brings his son to this island, to touch 
 the dead man^s bones, and be healed ; and 
 he neglects the living presence of his
 
 THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. 23 
 
 Saviour, who has only to will it, and it 
 is done ! — Oh, my children, here is a 
 lesson to humble the pride of intellect, 
 and to fill you with awe before the Crea- 
 tor of your reason, and the revealer of 
 his word ! — Reason, when hearkening 
 to revelation, must be as a little child ; 
 not as an idiot, that receives all, and 
 does all, without understanding the 
 nature of the command : — but as a little 
 child, humble and intelligent, eager to 
 apprehend the truth, and ready to obey 
 it. Such a little child as that which 
 appeared with the Doctors in the Temple, 
 hearing and asking them questions. 
 Mark you ! — He did not then speak as 
 one having authority^ but he came to 
 hear, and to inquire! — In all things, 
 He is our example ; and that example 
 bids us search the Scriptures for truth ; 
 and to apply to God alone, through one 
 Mediator for salvation here and here- 
 after.^' 
 
 Mrs. Coningsby did not answer her
 
 2i THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 uncle, but pressed the hands of her 
 listening daughters ; who cast down 
 their eyes in reverence of their beloved 
 teacher and his divine subject. — Mr. 
 Athelstone paused a few minutes, and 
 resumed. 
 
 <* The Grand-Pensionary, being aware 
 how happy I should be to see the Mar- 
 quis Santa Cruz, and to render every 
 service in my power to his invalid son, 
 gave him this letter, which has introduced 
 to us two such interesting persons. — 
 So now, my dear niece, you must do 
 your part, in the shape of aired rooms 
 and nourishing diet ; and I will try to 
 perform mine so, as to induce the father 
 and son to become our guests for as 
 many weeks, as they have purposed days : 
 — They would be visitors after Louis's 
 own heart.'' 
 
 <« I thought the young Spanish noble- 
 man looked very ill," observed Alice in 
 a tone of pity ; ** he leaned so languidly 
 in his chair j and his large dark eyes 
 
 7
 
 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 25 
 
 moved so heavily, it seemed a labour for 
 him to turn them even from me to my 
 sister ; though we sat close together. — 
 Poor young man ! — And how kindly 
 he asked about Louis! — Did not you, 
 Cornelia, think he looked ill ?" 
 
 <* Indeed,'* said her sister, " I scarcely 
 noticed his looks at all ; which I am 
 sorry for. — He must have thought us 
 most unfeelingly inattentive, to allow an 
 invalid to sit so long in a hot room with 
 that heavy cloak on.*' 
 
 " I rather think the fault was mine,'* 
 rejoined their mother, *' but the remem- 
 brances of past days had totally obscured 
 present objects. And, as another proof 
 oi' it, my dear Sir ;'* said she, turning to 
 tlie Pastor; ** I had forgotten to tell 
 you that the boatman has returned from 
 Bam borough without Louis; and bearing 
 no other message than Sir Anthony 
 Athelstone's respects^ and Mr, de Monte^ 
 mar will remain at tke castle tlie remainder 
 of the week.^* 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 Further remarks were prevented by 
 the re-entrance of the travellers. They 
 were conducted by their hospitable host 
 to the supper-room ; and after partaking 
 of its northern fare with good appetites, 
 Mrs. Coningsby led the Marquis and his 
 son to the doors of their apartments, 
 where she bade them adieu for the 
 night.
 
 ( 27 ) 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 Ferdinand arose next morning at a late 
 hour, refreshed and hghter in spirits thaa 
 he had been of a long time. The day- 
 was bright and balmy ; and when he de- 
 scended to the breakfast room, the Mar- 
 quis glanced at his renovated appearance, 
 and addressing Mr. Athelstone, exclaimed 
 — " Already my son's cheerful counte- 
 nance bears witness to the efficacy of this 
 blessed spot !" 
 
 The family of the Pastor were assem- 
 bled round the table ; Mrs. Coningsby 
 presided over the dispersion of her fra- 
 grant tea ; and her daughters, blooming 
 with the freshness of the dewy flowers, 
 did the honours of the coffee and knead- 
 ed cakes. Social converse, augmenting 
 in interest with its prolongation, sue- 
 c g
 
 28 THE PASTOR S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 ceeded the hospitable meal, till Mr. 
 Athelstone observed Ferdinand turn his 
 eyes wistfully towards the open window. 
 The light foliage of the spruce, w^hich bent 
 towards it, floated into the room on the 
 gentle impulse of a soft south wind ; and 
 the aromatic breath that followed, seemed 
 to be regarded by the young Spaniard as 
 an invitation to taste its fragrance 
 nearer. The Pastor, who anticipated 
 the wishes of invalids with the same 
 solicitude he would administer a salutary 
 medicine, turned to his young nieces, 
 and desired they w^ould put on their hats, 
 and introduce Don Ferdinand to their 
 Michaelmas-daisies. The ladies withdrew; 
 and Ferdinand, not requiring a second 
 permission, was soon in the little porch, 
 ready to accompany his fair conductors. 
 
 The youthful party had scarcely with- 
 drawn, before a note w^as brought from 
 Bamborough Castle. It was in answer 
 to one the Pastor had dispatched that 
 morning to Sir Anthony Athelstone, to
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. QQ 
 
 explain the necessity of Louis's immedi- 
 ate return to the Island. Mr. Athelstone 
 took the letter, and read as follows : 
 
 ** To the Reverend Richard Athelstone. 
 
 ** Sir Anthony Athelstone is very sen- 
 sible of the respect due to his reverend 
 Uncle, and to his noble guests ; but 
 Louis de Montemar being engaged with 
 a hunting-party, it is impossible he can 
 have the honour of waiting upon them." 
 
 " Bamborough Castle, 
 Saturday Morn. 
 
 " From what I can gather from the 
 man who brought the letter, Sir ;" said 
 the old servant who had delivered it, 
 ** the Duke of Wharton is at the Castle.'* 
 
 At this intimation, an unusual colour 
 spread over the face of Mr. Athelstone. 
 ** Peter, that cannot be ! — With all Sir 
 Anthony's errors, he will not forfeit the 
 honour of a gentleman !'* 
 
 Peter bowed his grey head, and re- 
 c 3
 
 30 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDB. 
 
 spectfully answered ; " The lad, Sir, who 
 brought that note, told me a fine Duke 
 from foreign parts, with a company of 
 ladies and gentlemen, came yesterday 
 through all the storm to the Castle ; and 
 they were so merry and frolicsome, they 
 sat up all night dancing, and singing 
 outlandish songs, which the butler, who 
 understands tongues, told him were ar- 
 rant Jacobite." 
 
 Mr. Athelstone rose hastily from his 
 seat. — ** Peter, I am afraid you are 
 right." — Peter bowed again, and with- 
 drew. — Mr. Athelstone re-seated him- 
 self, and for a moment covered his dis- 
 composed features with his hand. 
 
 " I remember the Duke of Wharton 
 eight years ago in Paris," said the Mar- 
 quis ; " I think it was in the summer of 
 1716 j when he came to pay his homage 
 to the illustrious widow of King James 
 of England. — Wharton was then a very 
 young man, hardly of age ; certainly not 
 arrived at the years of discretion j for
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 31 
 
 with a genius that equalled him in some 
 respects to the maturest minds in France, 
 he was perpetually reminding us of his 
 real juvenility, by the boyish extrava- 
 gance of his passions : — And I have 
 since heard that time has not tamed 
 them." 
 
 " It seldom does," exclaimed the 
 Pastor, " when the reins have once been 
 given to their impulse. — Oh, my dear 
 Lord, where-ever human passion is, 
 the law of reason and lawless appetite 
 contend there, like Satan and the arch- 
 angel. — Duke Wharton has yielded the 
 mastery to the ill spirit : — and he is the 
 less pardonable, his intellectual endow- 
 ments being equal to any resistance. If 
 the man who only hides his one talent^ meet 
 condemnation ; what will be the eternal 
 fate of him, who debases a countless por- 
 tion, to decorate the loathsomeness of 
 sin ?" 
 
 Mr. Athelstone paused a few moments, 
 and then added : — ** I have so great a 
 
 c 4>
 
 SQ THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE 
 
 horror of the contagion of such charac- 
 ters, that I made it a point with Sir 
 Anthony, he would never, wilhngly, bring 
 his nephew into the company of this 
 dangerous nobleman ; and how it has 
 happened now, I cannot guess. Some 
 unexpected circumstance must have 
 brought him to the Castle. For you 
 know^ Mrs. Coningsby, your brother has 
 always been scrupulous of a promise." 
 
 ** Hitherto f repHed she " but if we 
 have rightly explained Peter's account, 
 we cannot consider Sir Anthony's present 
 detention of Louis, as any thing less than 
 a breach of promise to you." 
 
 The Pastor looked more disturbed. — 
 ** When the tide serves in the after- 
 noon," cried he, " 1 will cross to Bam- 
 borough myself J and if I find that my 
 confidence has been abused, I shall then 
 know my course." 
 
 ** Not that my uncle doubts our 
 nephew's steadiness in despising the 
 follies of Duke Wharton ;" said Mrs, Con-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. SS 
 
 ingsby, addressing their guest ; " but no 
 engagements ought to be broken with 
 impunity." 
 
 ** Pardon me, madam," returned the 
 Marquis, **if I say that we should cru- 
 elly betray our young people, if we did 
 not so far doubt their steadiness, as al- 
 ways to do our utmost to withdraw them 
 from every separate temptation to vice 
 or folly ? — I hold it as great a sin to rush 
 unnecessarily into occasions of moral con- 
 test, as to fall by the temptation when it 
 comes unsought. Man should neither 
 tempt himself, nor suffer others to be 
 tempted, when he can put in a preven- 
 tion. I am, therefore, thoroughly of Mr. 
 Athelstone's opinion, not to allow Mr. 
 de Montemar to remain an hour that he 
 can prevent, within the influence of the 
 Duke of Wharton." 
 
 The Pastor was roused from anxious 
 meditation, by the last remark of Santa 
 Cruz. And as Mrs. Coningsby soon 
 after left the room, he put his hand upon
 
 S4f THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. 
 
 the arm of the Marquis, and conducting 
 him by a side door into his library ; " My 
 good Lord," said he, " your observations 
 are so just j that, as I may appear to have 
 acted inconsistently with what I consci- 
 entiously approve, by having permitted 
 my nephew to go at all where he is liable 
 to meet the Duke ; you must allow me 
 to explain the peculiar circumstances 
 which compelled my assent." 
 
 " I shall be glad, reverend Sir," return- 
 ed the Marquis, taking a seat, *' to hear 
 what can be urged in defence of subject- 
 ing the waxen nature of youth to the im- 
 pressions of perverting society. By pain- 
 ful experience, I know the trial to be 
 perilous." — The last sentence was fol- 
 lowed by a sudden coldness in his air to- 
 wards the Pastor, which passed unfelt, 
 because it was unobserved. 
 
 Unconscious of what really actuated 
 the remarks of his auditor, with a be- 
 nign smile Mr. Athel&tone resumed. — 
 
 " Your Lordship must indulge me with
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. SS 
 
 listening to a little family history, as a 
 preliminary to my apology? — else, I 
 know not how to make you perfectly un- 
 derstand my situation with regard to my 
 nephew Sir Anthony Athelstone." 
 
 The Marquis bowed, and Mr. Athel- 
 stone proceeded. — 
 
 " My only brother, the late Sir Hed- 
 worth Athelstone, was the father of the 
 present Sir Anthony,and of two daughters. 
 Theeldest,Louisa, was the mother of Louis 
 de Montemar; and the youngest, Cathe- 
 rine, you have seen in Mrs. Coningsby. 
 My brother's wife died the same year in 
 which her husband received the com- 
 mands of his sovereign to go embassador- 
 extraordinary to the Netherlands. Loui- 
 sa's health having been impaired by at- 
 tendance on her mother. Sir Hedworth 
 made her the companion of his embassy. 
 At the Hague they met the Baron de Rip- 
 perda. He was struck with my niece at 
 first sight. And indeed she was the most 
 beautiful creature these eyes ever beheld ! 
 . c 6
 
 36 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 — My Lord, you will see a manly copy 
 of this angelic being, in her not unwor- 
 thy son. Before she went abroad, she 
 had refused the hands of some of th^ 
 first men in England; for her accomplish- 
 ments and her virtues were equal to her 
 beauty. My brother had always left her 
 to her own choice. He admired the Ba- 
 ron de Ripperda ; and when she granted 
 him permission to address her. Sir Hed- 
 worth sanctioned her acquiescence with 
 pride and joy. I think I can recollect 
 the very words he wrote to me on the day 
 of her nuptials. I have often repeated 
 them, though not lately ; — yet I will 
 recall them." 
 
 The venerable man leaned back in his 
 chair, and shutting his eyes in silent re- 
 collection, in a few minutes repeated these 
 words of the letter^ 
 
 « Congratulate me, my brother /" said 
 he, ** This mornmg I have bestowed the 
 hand of ottr darling Louisa upon William 
 de Montemar Baro7i de Ripperda. I need
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 37 
 
 not enlarge in Ins praise : I have named 
 the Baron de Ripperda ; and in that name 
 all human ea:cellence is comprised. My 
 full heart, overjioxdng xvith happiness, has 
 but one xvish ungratijied. Richard^ am I 
 ungratefid to the Giver of all good? But 
 my tears are 7iow falling, that I eiijoy it 
 without the participatio7i of her beloved 
 mother. Oh, that she had lived to see this 
 blissful day /" 
 
 The pious narrator paused a moment, 
 drew his hand over his eyes ; and then re- 
 sumed his story in his usual manner. — 
 
 " Thus did my brother write, in the 
 exultation of his heart. And every suc- 
 ceeding letter contained similar intelli- 
 gence of Louisa's happiness; of the high- 
 minded patriotism of her husband ; of 
 the honour in which he was held by the 
 States ; and of the anxious joy which 
 agitated them all, in the prospect of an 
 heir to this treasure of felicity. Think 
 then, my dear Marquis, what were the 
 feelings with which I read a long-expected
 
 58 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 letter from the Hague ! I had impa- 
 tiently awaited what seemed so strangely 
 withheld. It was to tell me of the birth 
 of the anticipated blessing. The letter 
 came, sealed with black. — An heir had 
 been born, according to hope, but the 
 mother was no more. — Louisa's delicate 
 frame had perished in the trial of that 
 dreadful period. She lingered three 
 weeks after the morning of her child's 
 birth, and then died in the arms of her 
 husband and of her father. Next day the 
 afflicted parent wrote to me. How dif- 
 ferently did this letter conclude from the 
 one in which he announced her mar- 
 riage !" 
 
 Again the Pastor leaned back in his 
 chair, and closed his eyes ; but he also 
 pressed them down with his hand, as he 
 proceeded to quote his brother's words. — 
 
 *< / come to you, Richard^ xvith all that 
 remains to me of my too precious Louisa, 
 — So young, so beautijid, so beloved ! — 
 Ripper da has resigned her hifant to my
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 39 
 
 care. When he consented to my earnest 
 supplication, he pressed the poor uncon- 
 scious babe to his weeping face, and then 
 putting him into my arms : — Take him^ 
 Sir Hedworth I {cried he) What compen- 
 sation is too dear to the father of my lost 
 Louisa? He then rushed from the room, 
 and I have not seen him since, I thank 
 my God, her mother is spared this last bloWy 
 "which has laid my grey hairs in the dust,'* 
 
 As Mr. Athelstone closed these re- 
 membrances, with a silent address to the 
 Being in whose peace now rested the pa- 
 rent with his child ; the Marquis wiped 
 the starting tears from his eyes, — a pause 
 of a few minutes ensued ; and then the 
 good man, turning with a serene aspect 
 to his auditor, resumed. — 
 
 <« My brother returned to Bamborough- 
 Castle. He found me there, with his 
 sole-remaining daughter. Early in the 
 succeeding year, Catherine gave her hand 
 to Mr. Coningsby. Not to to leave my 
 brother quite alone, I henceforth conti^
 
 40 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 nued to divide my time between the ex- 
 ercise of my parochial duties, and assist- 
 ing him in the deHghtf ul task of unfolding 
 the mental faculties of my infant nephew. 
 But the drooping spirits of Sir Hedworth 
 were daily depressed by cares more heavy 
 to be borne than anxiety for the sick, or 
 sorrow for the dead. Almost every post 
 brought him accounts of his son's follies 
 at college, or in town ; and few were the 
 weeks which past without calling on his 
 purse for some disbursement to redeem 
 the pledged honour of this unthinking 
 young man. Mr. Coningsby died the 
 sixth year after his marriage ; and not 
 leaving a son, his entailed property went 
 to the male heir ; but his daughters have, 
 nevertheless, very noble fortunes. Sir 
 Hedworth and myself were constituted 
 their guardians j and as the best means of 
 rendering them protection, my brother 
 invited their mother from the dismal asso- 
 ciations of a jointure-house, to her for- 
 mer home. Poor Catherine gladly obeyed
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 41 
 
 the paternal voice : — and time went 
 smoothly over our heads, till the day on 
 which Louis de Montemar attained his 
 tenth year. It was always a sacred anni- 
 versary with my brother ; and on that 
 evening, while kneeling in his closet, he 
 was called to a blessed re-union with her 
 he had so long mourned. 
 
 " My nephew Anthony hurried from 
 London to take possession of his inheri- 
 tance. He expressed satisfaction at find- 
 ing his uncle and hi^ young nephew in the 
 Castle ; and requested his sister to honour 
 his table by keeping her place at its head. 
 Notwithstanding the happy promise of 
 this conduct, (for Sir Anthony is kind 
 and liberal to objects in his sight ;)' we 
 soon found that Bamborough, under its 
 new master, was not a fit residence for 
 Mrs. Coningsby and her children. In 
 short, he was too much a man of plea- 
 sure to allow of even the common re- 
 straints usual in a family on the recent 
 loss of its head. Whilst the hatchment
 
 4^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 was yet over the door, the Castle conti- 
 nued to overflow with visitors of the gay- 
 est order ; and amongst the most conspi- 
 cuous were the dissipated Earl of War- 
 wick, and the no less worthless Duke of 
 Wharton. Hunting all the morning; 
 feasting all the day ; and revelling all the 
 night with wine, cards, music, and dance ; 
 formed the unvarying diary of the so 
 lately revered Bamborough. In vain I 
 remonstrated with my nephew on these 
 pursuits ; on the evils of his example to 
 the county ; and the prejudice he was 
 doing to his fortune and his reputation. 
 To be rid of my arguments, he frequently 
 admitted their reasonableness ; but thiey 
 produced no amendment in his Tronduct. 
 In short, the castle of my fathers had now 
 become a Babylon, from which I saw the 
 necessity of bearing away my innocent 
 charges, while they were yet too young 
 to be contaminated. In right of my mo- 
 ther Lady Cornelia Percy, Morewick- 
 hall, on the Coquet, belongs to me. But
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 48 
 
 as my pastoral care was constantly re- 
 quired at Bamboroiigh, or in this island, 
 I had never resided on my inheritance. 
 I now wished to make it tlie home of my 
 niece, and her children, till they became 
 of age. She gladly embraced my pro- 
 posal. And the young Louis, though 
 the indulged-plaything of the whole 
 party, so far from expressing, regret at 
 leaving the castle, heard our arrangement 
 with joy. This may appear more than 
 natural in a boy hardly eleven yeai's of 
 age 5 but a little affair which took place 
 at that time, will make his acquiescence 
 very credible. 
 
 •* It was during the Christmas of the 
 very year in which you met Duke Whar- 
 ton at Paris, that he made his brilliant 
 but baneful appearance at Bamborough. 
 He took an immediate fancy to Louis ; 
 who was a fine spirited boy, full of en- 
 terprize and invincible good-humour. 
 The Duke delighted in betting on his 
 vouthful talents, against the maturest ac-
 
 44 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 quirements in the castle. He exulted in 
 the leaps he made hini take on horseback ; 
 on the precision of his eye, in firing at a 
 mark ; and the dexterity with which he 
 disarmed almost every man, but himself, 
 in the practice of the foils. Even in this 
 there was much to blame. But one even- 
 ing, when Sir Anthony and the Duke 
 were wearied of the rest of the company, 
 and withdrawn to another room were sit- 
 ting over their wine, a sudden whim seized 
 their own half-tipsey fancies, to send Louis 
 in masquerade to surprise the boisterous 
 group below. Louis was summoned ; and, 
 innocent of their intention, hastened to 
 his uncle. In the ardour of their frolic, 
 they told him they meant to dress him in 
 vine branches, and priming him with 
 wine, introduce him as the |^ive god 
 to the worship of the revellers in the 
 dining-room. The natural good- sense of 
 the boy started at the proposal ; and he 
 modestly refused to comply. — They per- 
 suaded, they flattered, they threatened j
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SEDE. 45 
 
 but ill vain. Both resolutely, and with 
 tears, he declared he would not, for his 
 life, do any thing so wicked. Sir An- 
 thony's passionate nature was in a blaze 
 at this opposition. Mad with intoxica- 
 tion, he threw the helpless child on the 
 floor, and holding him there, called on 
 his profligate companion to give him the 
 Burgundy. Wharton obeyed ; and the 
 inhuman uncle poured so great a quan- 
 tity down tlie throat of his struggling vic- 
 tim, that the poor child was taken up in- 
 sensible. He was carried to bed ; and 
 passed the remainder of the night in deli- 
 rium and fever. 
 
 " I was then on one of my occasional 
 visits to Lindisfarne. But on my return 
 next day, the whole was told me by Mrs. 
 Coningsby. Full of horror at the rela- 
 tion, I gave instant orders for our depar- 
 ture ; and was passing along the gallery be- 
 fore the servants, who were supporting the 
 suffering child to the carriage, when 1 en- 
 countered my graceless nephew. ** An-
 
 46 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 thony !" cried I, in the burst of my in- 
 dignation ; *< you have committed an out- 
 rage against the morals and life of this 
 innocent child, that will cry against you 
 at the gates of Eternal Justice !" Sir 
 Anthony stood confounded; but Duke 
 Wharton, who was just at his back, with 
 affected solemnity, exclaimed — " It is 
 a prophet who speaks ! — Let us take care 
 that in to-morrow's hunt, the foxes do 
 not ape the bears of old, and turn upon 
 and rend us !" — The sarcasm of the 
 young libertine, and his irreverent allu- 
 sion to Scripture, recalled me to a sense 
 of my own unrestrained violence ; and 
 turning again to my nephew with a more 
 collected manner, ** Sir Anthony, (said 
 I) I do not reply to your companion; 
 having no hope that human reasoning can 
 make any good impression on a mind 
 which studies revelation only to use it to 
 blasphemy. But for you, the son of a 
 virtuous father, and a pious mother ! — 
 ilecall to your remembrance their happy
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 4? 
 
 lives, their honourable reputations, and 
 their blessed deaths! And, notwith- 
 standing all your wit, your merriment, 
 and your splendour, your heart will whis- 
 per, that in comparison with them, you 
 are wretched, despised, and now stand 
 on the brink of everlasting perdition !" 
 Sir Anthony remained silent and con- 
 fused; but the hardened Didce, making 
 me a gay bow, put his arm through the 
 Baronet's, and with a jerk turned him 
 into the billiard-room. 
 
 " Eight years elapsed before I saw my 
 ill-directed nephew again. — Having es- 
 tablished a truly Christian minister at 
 Bamborough, I henceforth passed the 
 winter months at Morewick-hall with Mrs. 
 Coningsby. And how different from the 
 society of the castle was that which visited 
 our residence, and assisted to develope the 
 opening minds of our young charges ! 
 Sir Richard Steele, Mr. Craggs, and Mr, 
 Addison, were severally our guests. In 
 
 short, my dear sir, I drew around me a 
 
 8
 
 48 IHE PASTOR'S FIRE^SIDE. 
 
 kind of college for my pupils ; and be- 
 sides the persons named, many others of 
 humbler note, but equal merit, were our 
 constant visitors. One half of the year 
 I devoted to the inspection of my curate's 
 ministry ; and for that purpose fixed my 
 summer residence in this island. Louis 
 always accompanied me to Lindisfarne ; 
 as I considered it my duty, as well as my 
 delight, to share with his various tutoi;^,,' 
 the anxious task of turning to good ac- 
 count the rich soil of his mind. His na- 
 ture is so enquiring and ambitious, we had 
 rather to restrain than to stimulate his abi- 
 lities ; and they have ever pointed to a 
 military career. I tried to incline him to 
 the calmer paths of life ; but it was stem- 
 ming a torrent. His spirit is determined 
 to excess. And ha^•ing fixed his heart on 
 the reputation of a Nassau or a Marlbo- 
 rough, he directs his studies with an un- 
 deviating aim to that point. If he begin 
 any language, science, or art, he pursues 
 it steadily till he gains either a perfect 
 
 10
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 49 
 
 knowledge of its principles ; or at least 
 acquires as much as his teacher can give 
 him. He will not hear of a slight know- 
 ledge of any thing ; therefore, what he 
 does not wish to master, he never at- 
 tempts at all. In short, his talents take 
 the form of passions ; and are not to be 
 exhausted by the continuance or impetu* 
 osity of their course.** 
 
 From strong interest, the Marquis had 
 hitherto forborne to interrupt Mr. Athel- 
 stone ; but he could not now help ex- 
 claiming — " Oh, Sir, what a perilous 
 character have you described! — How 
 great is the responsibility of the man who 
 is to gui(fe and impel this youth ! Virtue 
 and vice contend alike for the direction 
 of such spirits: — and you are answer- 
 able to his father and to heaven, tliat 
 these powerful impulses should not be 
 turned to evil !" 
 
 ** I know it," replied the Pastor, de- 
 voutly bowing his head to the Almighty 
 Being to whom he especially owed this 
 
 VOL, I. D
 
 60 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 responsibility ; " and at present, I trust, 
 those impulses are blameless. His heart 
 overflows with good- will to every created 
 thing ; and, (as he often says with a gay 
 smile,) he seems born with no other con- 
 cern but to be happy, and to do his best 
 to make others as happy as himself. Dear 
 child !" exclaimed the old man, with 
 glistening eyes ; — " if that be his com- 
 mission, he knows he fulfils it here ! — 
 For the sound of his voice, or the tread 
 of his foot in the passage, is sufficient at 
 any time to raise my head from my 
 severest studies ; and to make his aunt 
 and cousins start from their chairs, to 
 welcome their gladdening Louis 1" 
 
 " And yet you trust this gay, this 
 buoyant ! — this young man, constituted 
 by nature, to be only too sensible to the 
 world's allurements; you trust him to 
 the temptations of his uncle's roof?" 
 
 <* Because," replied the Pastor, " they 
 are no temptations to him. Setting aside 
 the principles with which religion for-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 51 
 
 tifies his heart, his taste is too pure not 
 to be disgusted with the coarse jollity of 
 Sir Anthony's usual boon companions. 
 These sots see nothing in their wassal- 
 bovvl, but the wine and its spices. It is 
 the possible visits of Duke Wharton, and 
 a few of his anacreontic associates, that ex- 
 cite my apprehension. He drugs the cup 
 with the wreath of genius. The wit, the 
 grace, the sorceries of that man, indeed 
 fill me with alarm : and from his society, 
 as I would snatch a swimmer from the 
 verge of a whirlpool, I shall hasten to 
 bear away my yet uncorrupted nephew." 
 The Marquis enquired liow, with these 
 sentiments, and after the rupture with 
 •Sir Anthony, Mr. Athelstone had ever 
 suffered Louis de Montemar to touch suoli 
 a vortex again. — Mr. Athelstone apolo- 
 gized for having digressed so long from 
 this most necessary part of his narrative ; 
 and proceeded to relate the accident 
 which re-introduced the uncle and 
 uephew to each other. What he sue- 
 D 2
 
 5^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 cinctly related, is more particularly given 
 thus : 
 
 In the autumn of the preceding year, 
 Louis obtained his guardian's permission 
 to accompany a neighbouring gentleman 
 to the Red-deer hunt at Blair Athol in 
 Scotland. On the first day, several fine 
 harts were roused and slain. But just 
 as the two Northumbrians were seating 
 themselves on a high wooded cliff to 
 take some refreshment after a hot pur- 
 suit, the forester who attended them 
 approached, crouching on hands and 
 knees, and silently made a sign, pointing 
 to the glen beneath. — On looking where 
 he levelled, they saw two fine stags upon 
 a rock below, which projected over the 
 river Tilt. Louis immediately took aim, 
 and shot one of them on the edge of the 
 precipice ; the animal fell headlong into 
 the stream ; and the victor, with his 
 followers, hastened down the glen to 
 !?€cme his prize. About the same in^ 
 stant, a huntsman, who had been with
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 55 
 
 the foremost all day, from an opposite 
 direction had espied the companion of 
 the slain stag galloping forward in af- 
 fright. He lost not a moment, but 
 fired, and wounded the creature in the 
 haunches. The disabled deer slackened 
 his pace, and the huntsman let a hound 
 loose after him, who held him at bay on 
 a high bank ; but the stag recovered 
 courage, and broke away again. — An- 
 other dog was then unleashed, w^hich 
 brought him to a stand in a deep dell, 
 filled by the current of a mountain- 
 stream. This second hound ran in upon 
 his antagonist, and seized him between 
 the horns. The stag gored him from 
 shoulder to shoulder, and alarmed for 
 the life of his dog, the huntsman made 
 a spring into the water, to shoot the 
 deer without danger to the hound. But 
 in his haste, the man felJ, and with his 
 gun under him. At this moment the 
 Northumbrians came up. Louis's com- 
 panion rashly unloosed their dogs, to 
 D 3
 
 54 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 assist the struggling hounds of the fallen 
 huntsman. The deer, the dogs, all were 
 at once upon the prostrate man. He 
 called for help. — The stag's foot was on 
 his breast : — the hounds crushed him as 
 they sprung forward, and hung on the 
 furious animal. The deer's eye-balls 
 flashed fire ; he dashed his tremendous 
 antlers from side to side, and seemed 
 aiming their next plunge against the life 
 of his fallen enemy. 
 
 " He is a dead man !" cried the 
 forester. But Louis drew a dirk, which 
 was always his companion in these ex- 
 cursions ; and throwing himself at once 
 amidst the terrific group, struck it into 
 the throat of the animal. — The wounded 
 stag instantly recoiled, carrying away 
 the weapon buried in his flesh. The . 
 released huntsman sprung on his legs, 
 and extricating himself from the dogs, 
 which hung more fiercely on their flying 
 prey, staggered towards the adjacent 
 bank. With the assistance of his com-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. oo 
 
 pan Ions, Louis immediately conveyed the 
 fainting stranger to a neighbouring lodge, 
 where he soon recovered his recollection 
 and wonted spirits. — Perhaps it need 
 hardly be said, that this stranger was 
 Sir Anthony Athelstone ! — Louis, being 
 unacquainted with the alteration in his 
 uncle's person, which eight years of 
 intemperance had rendered bloated and 
 coarse, had thus exerted himself from 
 humanity alone. But when Sir Anthony 
 enquired the name of his preserver, 
 and learnt that he owed his life to the 
 intrepidity of Louis de Montemar, the 
 joy of the uncle knew no bounds. He 
 embraced his nephew a thousand times ; 
 vowed never to marry, that he might 
 adopt him as his son ; nay, he declared, 
 that from this day forward, Louis de 
 Montemar should be the lord both of 
 Bamborough and its master. Louis was 
 affected by his uncle's gratitude, and 
 self-accusations for the cause of their 
 first separation 5 but respectfully de- 
 D 4
 
 o6 THE PASTOR S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 clined resuming a stationary residence at 
 the castle, though he gratefully promised 
 to make his visits very frequent. 
 
 ** Providence having thus reconciled 
 the uncle and nephew," continued the 
 Pastor, " how could I presume to refuse 
 my sanction to the renewal of kindred 
 affection ?" 
 
 The Marquis assented to the force of 
 this argument ; and Mr. Athelstone has- 
 tened to conclude his narrative, of which 
 the following is a brief summary. 
 
 After this general amnesty, Louis con- 
 tinued to visit Sir Anthony every week. 
 And as the watchful guardian heard of 
 no proceedings in the baronet likely to 
 injure the morals of his nephew, he con- 
 sented to his accompanying his uncle 
 early in the ensuing spring, to re-visit 
 the scene of their happy reconciliation. 
 They accordingly went to Scotland. And 
 when they left the Duke of Athol's, Sir 
 Anthony proposed returning home by 
 Loch Rannock, and paying his respects
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^7 
 
 to old Robertson of Struaii. Louis was 
 eager to see the veteran and the poet j 
 though, from his advanced age, he ex- 
 pected to find Httle of the lyre, and less 
 of the trumpet, at his hospitable board. 
 
 The visit was paid ; and Louis returned 
 to Lindisfarne in raptures with the coun- 
 try he had seen ; delighted with the chief 
 of Struan ; but above all, enchanted with 
 one oi' the old man's guests. He seemed 
 intoxicated with some before untasted 
 pleasure, as he discoursed, full of a vague 
 kind of admiration, about this extraor- 
 dinary personage. Mr. Athelstone asked 
 his name ; Louis replied, it was the Duke 
 of Wharton, whom he remembered when 
 a boy; and who, he recollected, had 
 joined his uncle in the folly about the 
 wine. The Duke came to Loch Ran- 
 nock the day after Sir Anthony's arrival. 
 There was a large party in the house, but 
 Wharton selected Louis as his compa- 
 nion ; often deserting the rest, to ride 
 alone with him j and to explore with 
 D 5
 
 58 THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SlDK 
 
 fearless step, sometimes on horseback, 
 but oftener on foot, the cavenied recesses 
 of the Loch ; its fir-clad islands, and 
 mountains of desolate sublimity. During 
 their wide and stormy rambles, they vi- 
 sited the house of the laird, and the 
 hovel of the shepherd ; pleased alike 
 with the generous cheer of the one, and 
 the frugal hospitality of the other. Whar- 
 ton could speak Gaelic, a language of 
 which his companion was totally ignorant; 
 but Louis did not the less enjoy the hila- 
 rity with which his noble friend pledged 
 their entertainers in claret or whiskey : 
 and while a rapid discourse passed in this, 
 to him, unknown tongue, he did not the 
 less sympathise in the pleasure with 
 which gentle and semple seemed to regard 
 their, animated guest. Men, women, of 
 all ages and degrees, thronged around 
 their illustrious visitor. Sometimes he 
 was serious, sometimes he was gay ; but 
 still he spoke in Gaelic ; and all changes 
 renewed their acclamations of delight*
 
 THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. ^9 
 
 When Louis narrated these particulars 
 at the tea-table in Lindisfarne, Mr. 
 Athelstone sighed, and thought that in 
 this fortnight's sojourn at Rannock, his 
 nephew had seen too much, or too lit- 
 tle of this extraordinary man. How- 
 ever, he would not risk knowing all 
 that passed, by any immediate observa- 
 tion to damp the ardour of Louis's frank 
 communicativeness. His cousins were 
 eager listeners ; and he went raptu- 
 rously on, describing the Duke as the 
 most fascinating being on earth. So pro- 
 found in his reflections ; so careless in 
 his manner of uttering them ; so con- 
 scious of his fine person, and yet so 
 gracefully negligent of its effect ; so 
 dignified in his carriage, and yet so 
 boyishly fond of mirth ; that the mis- 
 chief he played ever found a ready ex- 
 cuse, in the ingenuity of its contrivance, 
 or the frank apology of the laughing 
 perpetrator. 
 
 *' I would say," exclaimed Louis, 
 D 6
 
 60 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 " that he is the merriest devil I ever saw, 
 if I could give so poor a name to so rich 
 a wit r 
 
 " Call him Behal/' said the Pastor, 
 with a meaning smile ; ** and you will 
 name him rightly." 
 
 Louis laughed; and replied, — ** If you 
 will have him a fallen angel, he must be 
 Satan himself: 
 
 For such high- reaching thought, and port superb, 
 Could ne'er be native with the grov'ling crew 
 That sunk in raging Phlegethon 1" 
 
 The Pastor shook his head with another 
 smile ; and Louis ran on, talking of the 
 Duke's lofty demeanor at one season ; of 
 its playful condescension at another : and 
 in the guileless exhilaration of his own 
 heart, described the air with which Whar- 
 ton drank his Burgundy ; how he graced 
 each draught with a brilliant song, adapted 
 by himself to words of Horace or Ana- 
 creon, in their original language. Then he 
 spoke of the Duke's eloquent criticisms on 
 the classics ; of his wit in apt references
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 61 
 
 to them, and to the best writers of France 
 and Italy ; and of the sportive manner 
 with which he trifled with the foibles of 
 the company around him ; — <* seeming," 
 continued Louis, " to stoop from his na- 
 tive height, merely to skim the grosser 
 element, in condescending fellowship 
 with those heavy sons of earth. And 
 the Duke tells me the change is plea- 
 sant ; for it is only burrowing a little 
 amongst the gnomes, to enjoy wdth 
 keener relish the etherial joys of the up- 
 per regions !" 
 
 *« Here, my Lord," continued the Pas- 
 tor, in his narrative to the Marquis, " was 
 the snare I had dreaded. When we were 
 alone, I declared my apprehensions to 
 my nephew ; but he combated my suspi- 
 cions with all the pleadings of ingenuous 
 enthusiasm. Louis had never felt more 
 than general kindliness for any of the 
 young men of his acquaintance. For, 
 I am sorry to say that education is not a 
 principle of these times: and my boy 
 8
 
 62 THE PASTOR'S PTRE-SIDE. 
 
 found few to understand any part of his 
 intellectual pursuits, till he met this high- 
 ly-gifted nobleman. Wharton is also 
 master of every avenue to an unsuspect- 
 ing heart. This, too, was the first time 
 that any thing like his own ideas of friend- 
 ship had come before my nephew ; and 
 when they were proffered by so specious a 
 character, it was hardly surprising that even 
 the short intimacy of a fortnight should 
 bewilder his imagination and captivate 
 his heart. When I became aware of the 
 depth of the impression, I tock up the 
 subject in the serious light it demanded. 
 I narrated several instances of the Duke's 
 ill-conduct in various relations of life ; 
 and shewed at once to Louis the delete- 
 rious cup he was so tenaciously holding, 
 since it had already induced him to con- 
 found right and wrong, by denominating 
 the ruffian violence he had received in 
 his helpless childhood, mere folly and 
 Jrolic I His countenance betrayed there 
 was a powerful contention in his mind*
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 63 
 
 I conjured him to reflect on what I had 
 said ; to hearken to my warning voice, as 
 he would to that of his distant father, or 
 to the last admonitions of his departed 
 mother. Tears burst from his eyes ; and 
 kissing my hands, he solemnly pledged 
 himself never again to be a wiUing resi- 
 dent in the same house with the Duke 
 of Wharton. His Grace had separated 
 from the travelling party, and was gone 
 to Ireland. But that did not prevent me 
 calling on Sir Anthony ; and though he 
 did not see the reasonableness of my 
 alarm, he was prevailed on to make me a 
 promise that he would not again be in- 
 strumental in bringing his nephew into 
 the society of the Duke. 
 
 '« From that period until now, this dan- 
 gerous man has been too much engaged 
 in cajoling and thwarting the British mi- 
 nistry, to think of obscurer triumphs in 
 Northumberland. But now that he is 
 come, and his mischievous spirit has 
 not only persuaded Sir Anthony to 
 
 12
 
 64f THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 break his honour with me, but that Louis 
 has been wrought upon to foifeit the ve- 
 rity of his word ; I must assume the 
 authority of a guardian ; and at once 
 wrest the infatuated boy from the favour 
 of his uncle, and the perverting powers of 
 his friend." 
 
 " Venerable Mr. Athelstone !" cried 
 the Marquis, with an emotion of reve- 
 rence ; " this resolution is worthy of a 
 minister of Christ !" But the words w^ere 
 no sooner uttered, than, dropping the 
 hand he had emphatically seized, he 
 quitted the room in disorder.
 
 ( ^ ) 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Unconscious of the anxieties which had 
 been aroused respecting him at his tran- 
 quil home, Louis found himself engaged 
 in scenes he httie »^xpected in the dull 
 routine of his uncle's castle. 
 
 The first day of his present visit to 
 Bamborough, passed according to the 
 usual journal of the whole year ; a plen- 
 teous dinner, with abundance of wine, 
 and three or four country squires around 
 the table. After the feast, Louis played 
 at backgammon with his uncle ; while 
 tln-ee of the other guests, with the as- 
 sistance of Dumby, dozed through half 
 a dozen rubbers of whist. The senses 
 of the fourth had not sufficiently sur- 
 vived the dinner's last potation, to be even 
 a silent spectator. He took liis station
 
 66 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 in an easy chair, near some snoring dogs 
 on the hearth-rug, and soon shewed audi- 
 ble fellowship with their slumbers. At 
 ten o'clock the butler announced supper. 
 The whole party started from their chairs ; 
 and rubbing their eyes and hands in the 
 joy of renew^ed impulse, crowded into the 
 eating-room. Louis, who could say no 
 with as much good humour as most peo- 
 ple say yes, declined accompanying them, 
 and went to his own apartments ; where 
 he passed the moon-light hours in making 
 a drawing of their effect on the opposite 
 tower of Lindisfarne, and the misty 
 ruins of its abbey. 
 
 The next morning being ushered in by 
 a fierce equinoctial tempest, the guests of 
 the castle gazed despairingly at the floods 
 of rain which swept before the furious 
 wind ; and when they found it impossible 
 to animate the drowsy hours by linger- 
 ing out a breakfast they had already pro- 
 longed to loathing, they dashed through 
 tlie pouring torrents, to kill time amongst
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE? 67 
 
 horses and grooms, dogs and whippers-in. 
 But these employments too found satiety; 
 and at the first blast of the letter-carrier's 
 horn, the whole party rushed into the 
 house, to see what his bag contained, 
 and to snatch the welcome newspa- 
 pers. The sleeper of the night before, 
 who was also high-sheriff of the county, 
 in right of his dignity, mumbled The 
 Postman to himself; while Sir Anthony, 
 with many bursts of applause, read The 
 True Briton aloud to the rest of the 
 company. 
 
 As soon as Louis found the badness of 
 the weather likely to prevent his uncle's 
 guests from taking their usual excursions, 
 he retreated from their noisy pastimes to 
 the large solitary library. There he 
 knew he should be as safe from invasion, 
 as if he had hid himself in the vaults of 
 the chapel. A few minutes absorbed his 
 whole attention in the black-letter annal- 
 ists of Great Britain ; comparing their 
 details w^ith the chronicles of France ; and
 
 ()8 l»HE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 losing himself in admiration of theCondes 
 and Montmorencies of the one country, 
 and the Talbots and Percies of the other. 
 He dwelt with particular delight on the 
 chivalric characters of Froissart, feeling 
 as if he conversed with them as friends ; 
 while the heroes of Cressy and Poictiers 
 divided his heart between the triumph of 
 conquest, and the god-like moderation of 
 their victories. While thus engaged, he 
 was at times wrested from his fancied pre- 
 sence in the scenes he read, by the smack- 
 ing of whips, and the halloos of his un- 
 cle's guests as they passed through the 
 hall in their visits to the stables. 
 
 ** What descendants of the Mow^brays, 
 the Percies, and the Nevilles 1" cried 
 Louis to himself. The uproar rose and 
 fell in gusts, like the tempest ; and at 
 last dying away behind the friendly inter- 
 position of long passages and distant 
 rooms, he forgot the existence of the 
 noisy rout ; and again found himself in 
 the pavilions of heroes.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 69 
 
 Towards four o'clock the clouds had 
 exhausted themselves ; and a bright sun, 
 tempering the chilly freshness of the 
 air, he looked from the library window 
 over the woods and glades of his uncle's 
 park ; and felt inclined to steal out un- 
 observed, and take an exhilarating race 
 towards its boundary. The deer were 
 coming from their covert, to enjoy 
 the beam ; and the rooks, speeding home 
 in glad multitudes, were cooing and 
 wheeling, and flapping their wings, as 
 they hovered over or settled on the 
 tall elms of the ancient avenue. These 
 sounds of grateful nature, rather soothed 
 than disturbed the tranquilHty of the 
 scene ; and Louis lingered at the window, 
 reciprocating the happiness of these crea- 
 tures, free, careless, innocent, and full 
 of blameless enjoyment. 
 
 In the midst of tliese musings, a new, 
 and an uncommon noise in his uncle's 
 house, startled his ear ; opening and bang- 
 ing doors along the adjoining gallery,
 
 70 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SLDE. 
 
 the rumbling of trunks, the calling of 
 servants, and a variety of female voices in 
 constant command. Louis stood amazed. 
 He had not heard that his uncle ex- 
 pected any unusual company, and least 
 of all women ; for owing to the convivial 
 character of Sir Anthony's meetings, 
 none of the country ladies had honoured 
 the Castle with a visit, since the depart- 
 ure of Mrs. Coningsby. 
 
 In a few minutes Louis heard his name 
 loudly vociferated by Sir Anthony him- 
 self. — " Louis — Louis de Montemar 1 
 — Where the devil have you hid your- 
 self?" — and with the boisterous inter- 
 rogation the baronet burst into the 
 library. — His eyes sparkled with jovial 
 intelligence, as he advanced to his 
 nephew : " Come Louis, my boy 1 Here 
 is metal more attractive to your taste 
 than chess and backgammon ! — Leave 
 this musty place, and I will introduce 
 you to lillies and roses 1" 
 
 Louisguessed, from these extraordinary
 
 THE PASTOR'is FIRE-SIDE. 71 
 
 transports, that some accident had 
 brought ladies to the Castle ; and while 
 he allowed Sir Anthony to hurry him 
 down a back-stair to the drawing-room, 
 he tried to learn something of the mat- 
 ter. But the Baronet was in too great 
 an ecstacy to speak common sense : — 
 he broke into extravagant thanks to the 
 storm, and eulogies on fine eyes and 
 blooming complexions ; and did not give 
 Louis time to ask another question be- 
 fore he ushered him into the presence of 
 several elegantly dressed women. With 
 manifest pride in the fine person of his 
 nephew. Sir Anthony introduced him to 
 the fair group ; and they received him 
 with compliments to the uncle, w^hich, 
 being new to the young man from 
 female lips, deepened to crimson the 
 colour on his glowing complexion. 
 
 A little observation convinced him 
 that these were neither his county ladies, 
 nor the ladies of any other county in 
 England. They were handsome, their
 
 7S THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 habits costly ; and their deportment 
 something Hke high fashion, though it 
 wanted that ineffable grace of delicate 
 reserve, which is tlie indispensable mark 
 of a true English gentlewoman. As he 
 looked on their careless movements and 
 familiar ease, he could not but think how 
 like the last harmonizing hue which a 
 skilful painter casts over his picture, is 
 the veil of modesty to a lovely woman. 
 In short, he soon gatliered from the rapid 
 discourse of these unexpected visitors, 
 that they were natives of different coun^ 
 tries, and belonging to the stage ; which 
 profession, he thought, might necessarily 
 free their manners fi^om the usual re- 
 straints of their sex, without in reality 
 impairing their virtue, * Two of the 
 
 * The reader is requested to call to mind, that 
 this is the description of the Theatrical Profession, 
 at that period of Its history in this country, when 
 the plays of Farquhar, and others of the same 
 taste, occupied the stage ; and were performed by 
 persons who too nearly resembled in reality the 
 characters they represented. — W^ith Garrick and
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 73 
 
 party were of the opera, the one, an 
 ItaHan primadona, with a singularly 
 beautiiul figure ; the other, a Frencli 
 dancer, young, pretty and full of life : 
 the rest, English actresses of various de- 
 grees of personal charms. 
 
 It was the voices of these ladies' re- 
 spective maids, w^hich had surprized 
 Louis from the gallery ; and he now stood 
 contemplating the persons and manners 
 of their mistresses, with the amused 
 curiosity of youth. — The pretty French 
 dancer had just enquired whether he 
 spoke her language ; and was expressing 
 her delight at being answered in the af- 
 firmative, w^hen Sir Anthony (who had 
 quitted the room soon after the intro- 
 duction of his nephew,) re-entejed with 
 
 revived Shakspeare, morals and propriety were re- 
 stored : — and at the head of our present British 
 actresses who possess the " grace of delicate re- 
 serve, which is the indispensable work of a true 
 English gentlewoman ;" no one can fail to respect 
 Mrs. Siddons. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 7"^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 the Duke of Wharton and the remainder 
 of his guests. 
 
 Louis started at sight of the Duke, 
 instantly remembering his promise to his 
 guardian. Wharton wore the same care- 
 less, animated air, as when he first fas- 
 cinated the imagination of his young 
 admirer ; and springing directly from the 
 dull mass which surrounded him, seemed 
 to Louis like a sun-beam shot from a 
 heavy cloud. The next moment he found 
 himself in the Duke's arms. 
 
 " My dear de Montemar ! This is 
 unexpected pleasure ! I thought only of 
 refreshing my horses, little dreaming your 
 uncle had provided this feast for their 
 master!" 
 
 Louis trembled and was silent. He 
 wished his guardian had not exacted the 
 promise, which, even at this moment, 
 whispered he must not hearken to the 
 captivating Wharton, but tear himself 
 away. Louis did not reply ; for he felt 
 unable to say (what he was determined
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE. 7^ 
 
 to do :) that he must instantly return to 
 Lindisfarne. 
 
 The Duke took his arm, and drew 
 him to a distant part of the room. 
 " De Montemar, I could sacrifice a 
 hecatomb of my best Cumberland steers, 
 for this blessed meeting! I have not 
 seen any thing so after my own heart, 
 since we parted ; and yet 1 have been 
 lamp in hand, day and night, in search 
 of one of your stamp. I know you have 
 a brave soul ; and that it spurns a sleepy 
 life, though your dreams should be of 
 paradise ! — When all are gone to bed, 
 meet me to*nigIit in the old library. — 
 I have that to say to you, I would not 
 have even a listening spider whisper to 
 some of this herd." 
 
 ** Not even myself must listen to it !" 
 replied Louis, making a strong effort to 
 declare at once his intention ; " Your 
 Grace must pardon me, but I am this 
 instant leaving the Castle.'* 
 
 *< Impossible !" cried the Duke," you 
 E 2
 
 76 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 would not go for the wealth of Mexico, 
 if you knew the matter I have to com- 
 municate." 
 
 " No temptation must detain me !'* 
 replied Louis, with a smile that spoke of 
 sacrifice ; " I am under an engagement 
 that cannot be broken." 
 
 " That countenance," returned Whar- 
 ton, laughing ; " tells a different story 1 
 — You know the old proverb ! where 
 there is a will, S;c,; and 1 cannot doubt 
 yours, since we pledged ourselves heart 
 to heart on the bonnie braes of Glen 
 Rannock ! — Besides, I am here acci- 
 dentally, and only for a short time. 
 Under these circumstances, what en- 
 gagement can be so serious, as ought to 
 separate us at such a moment ?" 
 
 Tlie Duke paused, and Louis blushed. 
 It was almost for his venerable uncle; 
 for he thought him severe against 
 this resistless pleader. — Wharton re- 
 sumed. " Come, de Montemar ; let me 
 write 77ian upon that candid brow. Not
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 77 
 
 as your uncle Anthony would stamp it, 
 in lees ; nor as another uncle, perhaps, 
 would mark it, with Saint Cuthbert's 
 tonsure I My signet is of other impres- 
 sion." 
 
 ** Your signet is too true a one," re- 
 turned Louis, *< to obliterate a word of 
 honour! and I have given mine to my 
 uncle of Lindisfarne to ■ ," he 
 
 hesitated. — Could he tell the noble 
 Wharton, that he had solemnly promised 
 never to remain willingly under the same 
 roof with him? 
 
 Wharton observed the painful con- 
 fusion of his too well-inclined friend. 
 
 " To what," said he, " have you 
 pledged yourself to Mr. Athelstone ? — 
 To return to him to-night ? — But the 
 promise was given under ordinary cir- 
 cumstances. I know your uncle does 
 not like the usual orgies of Sir Anthony. 
 And as neither you, nor the good old 
 gentleman, could guess that my happy 
 jstars would bring me to Bamborough 
 E S
 
 7^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 to-day, you must allow me, as a good 
 knight, and grand-master in the courts of 
 honour, to give both of you acquittal on 
 this head ; and to pronounce, that change 
 of circumstances releases you from your 
 engagement, and him from the necessity 
 of demanding its fulfilment 1" 
 
 Louis's heightening colour overspread 
 his face, as the Duke concluded; 
 but collecting all his powers of self- 
 denial, *' My Lord," said he, *' You are 
 very good ; but I must go ! — The tide 
 now serves, and delay " 
 
 Wharton released his arm with an air 
 of pique. — The resolution of Louis to 
 depart, and without assigning his guar- 
 dian's reason for insisting on his return, 
 was enough for the ready apprehension 
 of the Duke. He at once comprehended 
 that Mr. Athelstone foresaw a change in 
 his nephew's moral and political prin- 
 ciples, should he be permitted to culti- 
 vate an intimacy, which, it was evident, 
 was the secret wish of that nephew's
 
 THE pAstor's fire-side. 79 
 
 heart. — The Duke saw the struggle be- 
 tween indination and duty. He saw, 
 that persuasions to stay, by causing Louis 
 to summon more of his moral strength to 
 oppose his own desire to stay, only en- 
 sured his departure; and therefore the 
 moment Wharton perceived the real 
 position of the enemy, he made a russe 
 de guerre^ and drew off. 
 
 " I shall not withstand your own in- 
 clination, Mr. de Montemar,'* said he, 
 as he turned away with assumed coldness. 
 The words smote on the heart of Louis. 
 Sir Anthony, who had caught their un- 
 usual tone, looked towards the Duke and 
 his nephew. He saw the former walk 
 with a grave demeanor towards a win- 
 dow, and the latter gaze after him with 
 an agitated countenance. The baronet 
 approached Louis, and in a whisper 
 asked what had happened. 
 
 " I must obey my uncle's command 
 to return to Lindisfarne." 
 
 This reply re-called to Sir Anthony 
 £ 4
 
 ^0 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 his own promise to the same effect. He 
 reddened angrily : «' and you have told 
 the Duke, Mr. Athelstone's monkish 
 antipathy to his gaiety and good hu- 
 mour ?" 
 
 ' ** No, dear Sir, but I have told him, 
 I must go; that I am pledged to go. 
 And thougli he injures me by supposing 
 that I am such an Insensible as to obey 
 without reluctance ; yet I respect my 
 word too much, and hold my uncle's 
 command too sacred, to hesitate about 
 what I ought to do." 
 
 With a hurrying step, he was moving 
 towards the door; when the baronet 
 made one angry stride, and stretching 
 forth his athletic arm, grasped his ne- 
 phew's; and with an enraged ' counte- 
 nance drew him into an anti-room, wav- 
 ing his other hand to the Duke to follow. 
 Wharton was too good a general to 
 comply immediately ; and Sir Anthony, 
 as soon as he could speak without the 
 observation of strangers, burst into a loud
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 81 
 
 and violent invective on his uncle's un- 
 justifiable prejudices against the Duke. 
 
 " What can he charge him with ?" 
 cried the baronet, — " That he is young ? 
 The fitter to be your companion! — That 
 he is gay ? And if a man be not gay in 
 his youth, when is he to be gay? — That he 
 is married, and does not live with his 
 wife ? What man of spirit would keep 
 any terms with a woman, who wheedled 
 him into wedlock, before he was out of 
 his teens ! — That he is fond of wine ? His 
 thirst does not make you drink! — That 
 he is liked by women ; and not ungrate- 
 ful to their kindness ? Why Louis, your 
 old uncle had best shut you up at once 
 with the dead bones in the abbey vaults ! 
 And then he calls him a rebel to his 
 King ! What of that ? If the King him- 
 self does not fear him, but lets him go at 
 large amongst his subjects ; why should 
 the Pastor of Lindisfarne take more care 
 for His Majesty, than His Majesty thinks 
 proper to take for himself ! I tell you, 
 E 5
 
 Se THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 Louis, the cloven-foot is under the sur- 
 plice. It is resentment of an old affront, 
 that excites all this animosity in the mind 
 of Mr. Athelstone." 
 
 There was much in this speech, and 
 more in the manner of it, that offended 
 the best feelings of Louis. ** Sir," said 
 he, " 1 thank you for having recalled 
 to me my uncle's arguments on this sub- 
 ject. He may be mistaken as to the ex- 
 tent of the facts ; but till he is so far 
 convinced of his error, as to release me 
 from the promise I gave him, to avoid 
 the Duke ; I must consider myself bound 
 to abide by it.'' 
 
 The baronet's face now became pur- 
 ple. " Louis ! am not I your uncle, as 
 well as this domineering priest? I am 
 your mother's brother ; and from her, I 
 have rights, he cannot claim. You re- 
 spect his commands ! By what authority 
 will you disobey mine ? I therefore or- 
 der you, on your peril, not to stir from
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 83 
 
 this house, till it is my pleasure to let 
 you go." 
 
 He turned, with a look of defiance, 
 to leave the room ; but the voice of 
 Louis arrested him. ** Sir Anthony,'' cried 
 he, " when you command me as becomes 
 my mother's brother, I have ever been 
 eager to shew you obedience ; but there 
 is no authority on earth shall compel me 
 to stay where I am to hear words of dis- 
 respect coupled with the name of my 
 most revered guardian." 
 
 " We will look to that !" said the ba- 
 ronet firecely ; and opening an opposite 
 door, he disappeared, banging it furi- 
 ously after him. The Duke entered at 
 the same instant, by the one from the 
 drawing-room. He stood for a moment, 
 observmgthe countenance of Louis ; then 
 approaching him with his usual frank air: 
 ** De Montemar," said he, " unintention- 
 ally, I have overheard something of wliat 
 has passed between you and your uncle ; 
 and I have learnt enough, to be ashamed 
 E 6
 
 84 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 of the fool's part I have played just now, 
 when I turned from you like a jealous 
 girl !" 
 
 Wharton laid his hand on the arm of 
 Louis, and with a gay smile, w^hich was 
 rendered enchanting by the affectionate 
 seriousness of his eyes, he gently added, 
 " but friendship being the sister of love, 
 we must forgive her sharing a little of 
 her brother's infirmities." 
 
 Louis could not guess how much of the 
 recent offensive discussion had been over- 
 heard by its subject; but he was glad to 
 be cleared in the mind of the Duke from 
 the implied charge of quitting him capri- 
 ciously. *< Chance," said he, " has com- 
 municated to your Grace, what I could 
 never have brought myself to utter." 
 
 " And therefore," returned the Duke, 
 " I suppose you leave me to guess the 
 good Pastoi-'s reason for excluding me 
 from his fold ? I see it in the sin of my 
 youth. You have forgotten it; but in 
 my beardless days, I offended Mr. Athel*
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. S5 
 
 stone in a way that deserved a cat-o-nine- 
 tails. Had he laid his horse-whip over 
 my shoulders at that time, it would have 
 been wholesome chastisement : but this 
 interdict — " 
 
 " It is not for that !*' exclaimed Louis, 
 " but could my guardian know the ge- 
 nerous character he so misjudges ; I feel 
 he would court that friendship for me, he 
 now so fearfully deprecates." 
 
 The Duke shook his head : " thanks, 
 dear Montemar, for that profession of 
 your faith ! But when prejudice gets 
 possession of an old head, neither argu- 
 ment nor auto defe can dislodge the evil 
 spirit." 
 
 <* Indeed," cried Louis, ** my excel- 
 lent uncle is not fuller of years than of 
 candour ! It is not one prejudice, but 
 reports — slanders — " 
 
 " -Aye," interrupted the Duke, ** Dan 
 
 Bacon warns us that Envy^ like the sun^ 
 
 beats hottest on the highest grounds ! But I 
 
 could have spared this proof of my merit. 
 
 7
 
 S6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 — de Montemar," added he, in a graver 
 and more earnest tone j " shall I tell you, 
 that you; — with that guileless heart, that 
 ingenuous soul, that maiden reputation ; 
 will one day be reported/ slandered I 
 made a pest, as I am, to be avoided !" 
 
 Clouds collected over the Duke's brow 
 as he proceeded. He walked a few paces 
 towards the opposite side of the room, 
 and then turned round with his usual 
 bright countenance. — " De Montemar, 
 my life has been a comet's track; and 
 therefore may astonish and alarm. It is 
 not given to every man to know whither 
 my eccentric course tends : — but I tell 
 you, its aun is to the sun !" 
 
 Louis's heart glowed, as the Duke thu^ 
 animatedly delivered himself. ** Oh, my 
 Lord," cried he, " why are you thus mis- 
 apprehended ? Or rather, why will that 
 noble spirit give any licence to slander, 
 
 by stooping to such associates as •** 
 
 he paused. 
 
 " We will not name them !" replied
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE. 87 
 
 Wharton laughing; ** But such things 
 are my toys, or my tools. Did men of 
 our sort keep only with our likes, we 
 should prove but useless animals. The 
 world is a multitude, where every crea- 
 ture must partake the fellowship of poor 
 dependent human nature ; or at once 
 claim kindred with the gods by doffing 
 his clay, and ascending post-haste to the 
 regions above !" 
 
 The castle bell rang for dinner ; and 
 with its last peal. Sir Anthony presented 
 himself at the drawing-room door. — 
 He came haughtily forward. *' My 
 Lord Duke, the iladies await your hand 
 to lead them down stairs. — Louis, you 
 are come to your senses, I see, and will 
 follow his Grace." 
 
 The manner with which the baronet 
 said this, shewed he rather expected to 
 intimidate his nephew into compliance ; 
 than really thought he had made up his 
 mind to obey. Louis answered w^ith
 
 88 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 firmness, '< I cannot, Sir, transgress what 
 I know to be my duty." 
 
 Sir Anthony's eyes flashed fire : " That 
 is to say," cried he, " you know it is 
 your duty to obey me! — and you will 
 obey me! — or abide by the consequence." 
 ** Nay, Athelstone," interrupted the 
 Duke, " this is shot and bounce with a 
 vengeance ! What man, with the spirit of 
 a weazel, but would grub through your 
 very towers, to shew you he despised 
 such threatenings? Open your gates to 
 the uncontrouled egress and regress of 
 your nephew ; or my free pinions will 
 spurn them in a moment!" " I am. no 
 jailor, Duke Wharton," repHed the angry 
 baronet, ** But that boy should know his 
 uncle is not to be insulted with impunity. 
 He presumes on my avowed affection for 
 him, to affront my company before my 
 face; and then mocks me with an apology 
 still more galling, by declaring that he 
 must prefer the caprices of a selfish old
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 89 
 
 priest, to all the gratitude he owes an 
 uncle who indulges his every wish ; and 
 has already made him heir to this castle 
 and its estates." 
 
 " Athelstone! Athelstone!" exclaimed 
 the Duke, <' am I to tell you that hoy is 
 one exception to Walpole's theory of 
 mankind? You cannot bribe Louis de 
 Montemar to act against his conscience. 
 Open your gates, and let him go." 
 
 Sir Anthony looked from the playful 
 remonstrance of the Duke, to the per- 
 turbed countenance of his nephew. — 
 " Louis," said he, in a more temperate 
 tone, " You know how this has been 
 wrung from me. Is there no terms to be 
 kept with my affection for you? No 
 middle way between outraging all respect 
 to me, and breaking your extorted pro- 
 mise to this lord of penance ?" 
 
 *' How can I listen. Sir, to such epi- 
 thets attached to the idea of the most 
 venerable of men?" 
 
 " He may indulge the boy's-play !'*
 
 90 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 cried the Duke, " 111 names stick only 
 to such sorry fellows as I." 
 
 " Oh, Sir," rejoined Louis, ** I have 
 only to represent to my guardian the 
 candour with which the Duke of Whar- 
 ton has just treated his unhappy preju- 
 dice; and I am sure he will instantly 
 permit me to return to the castle.'* 
 
 " Then you persist in going to-night?" 
 
 " Now, Sir," replied Louis, ** the tide 
 serves : and if I delay, I must remain till 
 midnight." 
 
 Sir Anthony walked the room in great 
 agitation. Wharton looked at his young 
 friend with a persuasion in his eyes, to 
 which he did not give words j and their 
 beset object, unable to give a favourable 
 answer to such pleading, bent his to the 
 ground. 
 
 At last the baronet stopped opposite 
 to him. ** Louis, you are not a generous 
 adversary. You deal hardly with the 
 heart you so well know is all your own. 
 And there you stand, so silent, so stern,
 
 THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. 9^ 
 
 to compel your uncle — the man whose 
 life you saved, — to beg your pardon for 
 his violence ; and to entreat you, even 
 with prayers, not to leave his roof in 
 anger !" Sir Anthony caught his 
 nephev/'s hand, and sobbed out the last 
 words. Louis threw himself on his 
 uncle's neck; and quite overcome, hardly 
 articulated, " I will stay to-night, but to- 
 morrow morning — Oh, my dear Sir, do 
 not urge me to forfeit my own esteem !" 
 
 Wharton took the arm of the baronet, 
 whocoveredhis face with his handkerchief J 
 while he obeyed the impulse which drew 
 him away through the gallerj^-door. 
 The Duke bent back, and whispered 
 to Louis, " You will follow us to the 
 dining-room?" He bowed his head 
 in troubled silence ; and the baronet and 
 his friend turned down the gallery. 
 
 ** A few hours yielded to my uncle's 
 feehngs,'' said Louis to himself^ " will, I 
 trust, make no essential difference in the 
 performance of my word to Mr. Athel-
 
 92 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 stone. And indeed I am true to its 
 spirit, for I stay not willingly. And yet, 
 were it not for my pledged word, what 
 delight should I have in the society of 
 this amiable, this ingenuous, this generous 
 Wharton!'' 
 
 When Louis joined the party at din- 
 ner, the flush of his hardly-subsided 
 agitation was still on liis cheek ; but 
 liis manner was composed, and his 
 looks cheerful. The company were all 
 seated ; and the place left for him was 
 between the lively Frenchwoman and the 
 Earl of Warwick. The ruddy face of the 
 baronet was burnished with smiles from 
 his recent victory, which he hoped was a 
 final one over the future influence of the 
 Pastor with his nephew : and the pride of 
 triumph did not a little inspirit the viva- 
 city with which he did the honours of his 
 table; challenging Louis to pledge the 
 ladies in sparkling Champagne, while he 
 drank to their ruby lips in glowing Bur- 
 gundy. 
 
 For a little time the Duke appeared
 
 THE PASTOR'S ITRE-SIDE. 93 
 
 thoughtful ; and frequently turned his 
 eyes upon Louis, rather as if he were the 
 object of his thoughts, than of his sight : 
 but the actress who sat next him, rallying 
 him once or twice on his portentous 
 abstraction, he suddenly shook off a 
 mood so little according with the com- 
 pany ; and replying with answering badi- 
 nage, warned her dramatic majesty to be- 
 ware of forcing Eneas from his cloud. 
 The lady dared his threats ; and a dia- 
 logue of wit, and playful gallantry, passed 
 between the two, that delighted the 
 sportive fancy of Louis, and set the 
 grosser spirits of the party in a roar. 
 
 In the first pause of this noisy mirth, 
 the black-eyed Italian challenged the 
 Duke to bear his part with her in a new" 
 duetto of Apostola Zero. It was from 
 the opera of Sappho and Phaon, and de- 
 scribed the lover's last interview in the 
 Lesbian shades. Louis loved music ; 
 and always listened with pleasure to his 
 cousins chanting their border-legends.
 
 94* THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 or giving utterance to the sweeter bal- 
 lads of Scotland : but he had never heard 
 Italian singing until now ; and he was in 
 so wrapt an extacy, that, lost to the ob- 
 jects around him, he sat during the per- 
 formance with his hands clasped, and his 
 eyes rivetted alternately on the Duke 
 and on the Signora, as they severally 
 took up the thrilling melody ; but when 
 their voices mingled at the close with 
 all the harmonious interchange of height, 
 and depth, faultless execution, and ex- 
 quisite pathos, the heart of Louis seemed 
 dissolving within him ; and as the last 
 notes trembled, and died on his ear, he 
 leaned back in his chair and covered his 
 face with his hand. 
 
 The momentary pause that followed, 
 and which his throbbing heart would 
 fain have prolonged, was rudely bro- 
 ken by an universal clapping of hands, 
 and cries of bravo ! By a side glance, 
 Wharton had observed Louis's atten- 
 tion tp the singing ; and now see- 
 8
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 9o 
 
 ing the disgust with which he pushed his 
 chair back from the discordant up- 
 roar, he bent behind the Frenchwoman, 
 and tapping his young friend on the 
 shoulder, whispered — 
 
 *• This universal shout, and shrill applause, 
 Seem to the outraged ear of listening Silence, 
 Strange as the hiss of hell, whose sound perverse 
 Went forth to hail its sovereign's victory!" 
 
 As the Duke spoke, the cadence wdth 
 which he repeated the Hnes recalled the 
 strains which yet vibrated on the en- 
 tranced sense of his auditor ; and Louis, 
 turning his eyes on him who had charmed 
 him out of himself, expressed, in broken 
 but energetic language, the delight he had 
 felt, the wonder that such powers could 
 belong to the human voice : ** I have 
 heard fine singing, before;'' said he, " but 
 this is more than singing ! — It is the 
 voice of the soul — or, shall I say, it is 
 the very ineffable language w^hich love 
 breathed into the heart of Psyche ?" 
 " Say what you please, my own Do
 
 96 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 Montemarl" cried the Duke, his face 
 radiant with animation ; " you have the 
 soul I want ! — meet me to-night in the 
 old library." 
 
 His friend the actress heard the last 
 words ; and gaily protesting against any 
 appointment which tended to break up 
 the present festivity ; the rest of the 
 ladies rapturously seconded her motion 
 to close the night with a dance. Sir 
 Anthony rubbed his hands with glee at 
 the proposal : and when the ladies soon 
 after ascended to their tea-table, he or- 
 dered the band, which usually travelled in 
 the retinue of the magnificent Duke, to 
 take its station in the great -drawing-room. 
 
 The healths of the fair dames being 
 drank on their departure, the native to- 
 pics of the chace, races, justice-meetings, 
 and county-politics, gradually gave way 
 before the ascendancy of high spirits in 
 men of wit and genius. Louis had in- 
 sensibly drank more wine at dinner, 
 than was his custom. Its fumes, and
 
 THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 97 
 
 the entrancing power of the music, unit- 
 ed with the charms of the Duke's ever- 
 varying, discourse, had thrown his facul- 
 ties into a kind of enchanted mist, where 
 all that is pleasurable played on the sur- 
 face ; all that was alarming, remained be- 
 hind the cloud. 
 
 At a late hour they joined the ladies, 
 who were seated at ombre and piquet ; 
 but the moment the men appeared, the 
 tables were pushed aside ; and the lead- 
 ing actress, rising from her chair, invited 
 the Duke to a minuet. He presented 
 her his hand, while the violins obeyed the 
 nod of his head ; and then moved through 
 the elegant evolvements of the dance, with 
 a grace the more charming from the air 
 of gay indifference with which he ap- 
 proached, and retreated from her gliding 
 steps. 
 
 The pretty Frenchwoman shewed the 
 agile varieties of her art, in a pas seid, 
 which filled the northern squires with a 
 wonder and satisfaction more level io 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE, 
 
 their apprehensions, than had been the 
 science of the fair Itahan. Louis stood, 
 leaning over the back of a chair, smiHng, 
 and nodding his approbation to the ex- 
 hilarating time of the music. As soon 
 as Mam'setle Violante had made her con- 
 cluding whirl in the air, she tripped 
 lightly forward, and gaily demanded 
 his hand for the country-dance. He 
 bowed delightedly ; and obeyed her vo- 
 lant motion, as she bounded with him 
 down the room to join Wharton and his 
 fair partner at the head of the set. The 
 ball became general ; and the jouissance 
 so intoxicating; that the whole scene swam 
 in delicious, delirious pleasure, with the 
 newly-initiated sons of rough Northum- 
 berland. 
 
 When the party broke up as the sun 
 rose, and Louis retired to his chamber, 
 he hardly knew himself to be the same 
 man who had left it the morning before. 
 In that very chamber, four centuries ago, 
 the gay and profligate Piers Gaveston 
 
 9
 
 THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 99 
 
 had been a prisoner ! and Louis had is- 
 sued from it, only the preceding day, 
 censuring in his mind the vices of its an- 
 cient possessor ; and marvelling how any 
 temptation addressed to the mere senses 
 of rational man, could betray his virtue. 
 
 With a whirling brain he now threw 
 himself upon his pillow. — The music 
 still sounded in his ears ; he yet wound 
 with airy step through the mazes of the 
 dance ; the familiar pressure of the 
 laughing Violante was still warm on his 
 h^nd ; and he yet thrilled under the' soft 
 glances of the fair Italian. Till that day, 
 he had never seen the manners of women 
 so unzoned. He had never thought 
 it possible, that any behaviour, freer 
 than what he saw in the behaviour of his 
 aunt and cousins, could excite other 
 emotions in him, than those of dislike 
 and disgust. He had admired the magic 
 painting of Homer, Tasso, and Spenser, 
 in their Circe, Armida, and Adessa ; and 
 he had ti^mbled for the constancv of 
 
 F ^
 
 100 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 their respective heroes, before the allure- 
 ments of such sorcery : — but he never 
 expected to find similar trials in real life. 
 He believed the fair tempters in romance, 
 were indebted for the beautiful mask 
 with which they concealed their mental 
 deformity, entirely to the spells of the 
 poet's genius. Vice, in living woman, 
 he expected to find as odious in outward 
 shape, as it is loathsome within. 
 
 In short, in meditation, nothing is beau- 
 tiful without goodness. The unbiassed 
 heart, speculating upon these subjects, 
 never unites admiration with any thing 
 foreign to that character ; and mistaking 
 taste for principle, when it comes to the 
 proof, too often substitutes the approba- 
 tion of virtue for virtue itself. The dis- 
 courses of Mrs. Coningsby fostered in 
 the mind of her nephew this natural 
 idea of the indivisibility of goodness and 
 beauty. She described the empire of 
 vice to be absolute, when it takes pos- 
 session of a woman j and that its imme-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 101 
 
 diate efiects were to obliterate every 
 feminine grace, and transmute her at 
 once into a monster of sin and disgust. 
 Believing this, Louis was not prepared 
 for the scene he had just witnessed.. 
 The pit, he expected to behold yawning 
 like the mouth of hell, and so warning 
 him from its approach, he saw overlaid 
 with a verdure, brighter than all around : 
 and no wonder his unwary feet trod 
 the tempting spot, and found it trea- 
 cherous. 
 
 F 3
 
 ( 10^^ ) 
 
 CHAP. IV- 
 
 He slept, and the scene was renewed 
 with a thousand strange varieties. Ima- 
 gination recalled, in fantastic vision, all 
 that he had read of enchanted pleasures, 
 or of descending goddesses mingling 
 their immortal nature with favoured 
 man. He now lost his own identity in 
 the person of Rogero, slumbering away 
 life in the arms of Alcina ; and then be- 
 came the indignant Rinaldo, cutting his 
 way through the entangling thickets of 
 Armida's wood. — He awoke heated, 
 and unrefreshed. His heart panted with 
 his imaginary contest; and his fevered 
 temples beat to agony as he sprung from 
 his disordered bed, and throwing open 
 the window towards the breezes of tlie 
 sea, inhaled their cooling freshness. Hi^
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 103 
 
 tremulous frame gradually recovered a 
 braced tone ; and wrapping his dressing- 
 gown around him, he stood gazing on 
 the opposite rocks of Lindisfarne, with 
 feelings as new to him as had been the 
 spectacle of the night before. He blush- 
 ed as he thought of rejoining the dear 
 inhabitants of that sacred spot. — A 
 strange faintness seized on his heart — a 
 sense of shame 1 
 
 ** For what ?" cried he, " what have 
 I done, to cause this self-accusation ? — 
 I have not broken my word with my 
 uncle ; I did not consent willingly, to 
 stay till this morning : I made the sacri- 
 fice to Sir Anthony's feelings." 
 
 Thus far, his conscience acquitted 
 him ; and he breathed freer : but still he 
 could not say, my heart is lightened of 
 its load. 
 
 " I feel myself polluted !** cried he ; 
 
 " I knov/ not what was said and done last 
 
 night, to change me thus ; but the wine 
 
 1 drank, and those women's looks and 
 
 F 4<
 
 I04i THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. 
 
 words; and my very dreams, seem to 
 have contaminated my soul and bodyl 
 — Oh, holy Lindisfarne ! — My uncle, 
 my sweet cousins, why did I ever leave 
 your innocent presence !'^ 
 
 With this agonized invocation, he 
 hastened to dress himself; that he might 
 fly from the castle, and all its present 
 mischiefs. 
 
 Violante had informed him the pre- 
 ceding night, how so strange a party 
 came together; and why they had in- 
 truded themselves on the hospitality of 
 his uncle. She described, with satirical 
 pleasantry, a week's visit, which she and 
 her Thespian sisters had been making to 
 a noble amateur in Teviotdale. — Lord 
 Warwick was there ; and soon after, 
 Duke Wharton came in his way from the 
 Highlands. At the time of his arrival, 
 the whole company were on the eve of 
 departure ; but as he was coyaing south- 
 ward, and they were to travel in the 
 same direction, he complied with War-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SlDE. 105 
 
 wick's entreaties to join the party.— 
 The storm caught them on the moors ; 
 and as it was attended with thunder, the 
 women became so frightened, it was ne- 
 cessary to take them to some place of 
 shelter. — A minute's thought brought 
 to Wharton's recollection that Bam- 
 borough was in the neighbourhood ; and 
 without hesitation he ordered the horses 
 heads of half a dozen carriages to be 
 turned towards the mansion of the con- 
 vivial baronet. 
 
 As Louis ran over these circumstances 
 in his mind, and recalled the lively in- 
 difference with which the Duke seemed 
 to dally with all this youth and beauty, 
 and female witchery ; turning from one 
 to the other with the gay caprice of the 
 frolic butterfly, which flies from flower 
 to flower, hovering and touching, and 
 straight to flight again : — " Happy 
 Wharton !" exclaimed he, " yours is 
 indeed the spirit which skims the earthy 
 and does not soil its wings/ while mine, 
 F 5
 
 106 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 has only to approach its surface, and be 
 made but too sensible, that dust I am, 
 and would to dust return !" 
 
 In this mood he descended to the 
 court yard ; and gave orders for a boat 
 to be ready at the castle-cove, to row him 
 across to Lindisfarne as soon as the tide 
 should serve. But in returning along 
 the terrace, he encountered the object of 
 his meditation and his envy ; the object 
 which still made his heart linger about 
 the spot he was so determined to leave. 
 
 •* Ha, de MoiTtemar !" cried the 
 Duke, **Well met; before the constel- 
 lations of last night arise to put yon 
 saucy, upbraiding sun out of counte- 
 nance ! — But how long have you been 
 making morn hideous with those rueful 
 looks? — Why, you are a different man, 
 from the etherial son of joy, who moved 
 amongst us last night like Ganymede 
 dispensing the draughts of Olympus !" 
 
 Louis saw in this gay hyperbole, only 
 the spectre of a folly he was ashamed of*
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 107 
 
 His disturbed countenance spoke what 
 was passing in his mind ; but trying to 
 smile, " Indeed, my Lord," said he, " you 
 are right to laugh at my inebriated senses. 
 — I assure you, I despise myself." 
 
 ** For what, de Montemar ? That you 
 have eyes, and ears, and are a man ?" 
 
 Louis coloured; " Perhaps, that I 
 own too much of his worst part!" 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 He did not answer, but quickened his 
 steps. The Duke looked archly in his 
 face, and laughed : — «< I will answer 
 myself* That fond little devil Violante 
 has driven Saint Cuthbert out of your 
 head, and you are hastening to exorcise 
 the strange possession at the shrine of 
 the holy woman-hater !" 
 
 Louis started at this insinuation : it 
 offended him, though so lightly uttered. 
 Perplexed, and every way displeased with 
 himself and his companions, he however 
 tried to answer composedly. — "Your 
 Grace is mistaken. I carry away with 
 F 6
 
 108 THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE, 
 
 me Ho image from last night's revelry, 
 but that of my own weakness. 1 despise 
 the facility with which I fell in with the 
 fashion of the hour, to dnnk wine till I 
 unsettled my reason -, and I detest my- 
 self for feeling that I existed from that 
 time until I awoke this morning, without 
 other consciousness than that which my 
 besotted senses afforded.'* He stopped, 
 then raising his before bent head, smiled 
 scornfully, and added, " The garden of 
 the Hourii is not my paradise 1" 
 
 Wharton gazed on him a moment in 
 fixed astonishment. — Louis did not per- 
 ceive the amazement he had created, but 
 walked on with a steadier pace and a 
 calmer countenance. 
 
 «« Well,'* thought the Duke, as he put 
 his arm through that of Louis ; *' Anteas 
 rose the stronger, after he had touched 
 his mother earth! But Hercules will 
 try another throw [" 
 
 « De Montemar," said he, " let us 
 leave these unlucky Hourii to their slum-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 109 
 
 bers, and resume the subject which they 
 charmed to silence last night ? — An 
 eve's dropper might be dangerous ; so, 
 let us turn towards the wood, where we 
 may converse undisturbed.'* 
 
 Louis looked at his w^atch, and seeing 
 that the tide would not be at full for yet 
 half an hour, he allowed Wharton to turn 
 his steps through the inner-court into 
 the park. 
 
 " Louis de Montemar, I am going to 
 unlock my heart to you. — I am going to 
 put my life into your hands." 
 '' My Lord ?" 
 
 ** I am. — But I have weighed the 
 trust. — You do not know yourself. — I 
 do ; and, — laugh at me for a coxcomb, 
 if you please ! But I affirm, your cha- 
 racter and mine are composed of the 
 same materials. I recognize my brother's 
 soul in your breast ; and the same will be 
 your pursuits, the same your destiny.'* 
 
 <' Oh, my Lord," cried Louis, « if 
 emulation could transform its subject, you
 
 110 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 might not prophesy in vain ! — But I will 
 not think you mock me ! Your own lu- 
 minous nature surrounds you ; and see- 
 ing through that, you fancy objects 
 bright, which only reflect your beams.'* 
 
 ** Prettily said, my ingenious friend,'* 
 answered the Duke, ** but my position 
 shall be proved by the fact. — Let us 
 compare circumstances. — You are not 
 yet of age ?" 
 
 ** Just twenty." 
 
 ** Young enough to be catechised ! — 
 Will you answer me fairly ?" 
 
 Louis smiled : ** as my godfathers did 
 promise and vow ?" 
 
 " Have you ambition ?'* 
 
 ** As much as ever budded the brow of 
 young Ammon." 
 
 <* Have you enterprize ?" 
 
 " Else my ambition had never been 
 avowed." 
 
 ** Can you dare the world's obloquy ?** 
 
 " In a noble cause, I would risk its 
 hisses."
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. HI 
 
 The Duke caught him in his arms. — 
 " By all the host of heaven," exclaimed 
 he, ** Yours is a spirit, with which mine 
 shall have no disguises ! — You know 1 
 am reported, slandered! But, on your 
 own principle, I exult in the hooting of 
 the mob; and I would direct your flight 
 to the point whereon I stand, and laugh 
 triumphant on the fools below! Mark 
 my progress, de Montemar. — You see in 
 Warwick, what nine- tenths of nobility 
 are ; distinguished from the crowd by 
 nothing but their titles and extravagance. 
 I would sooner hang like Absalom on a 
 tree, than so pass away amongst the herd 
 of my cotemporaries ! 
 
 ** My father did not understand my 
 character ; and when he died, bequeathed 
 me doctors of law and doctors of divinity, 
 to teach me the way I should go. They 
 tried to break the spirit they could not 
 bend ; and often hard words, and harder 
 usage, shook their heads as wqll as their 
 canes, and pronounced me an unmanag-
 
 IH THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 able colt. In the very heat and tempest 
 of my rebellion, I told them I was a Bu- 
 cephalus they could not tame ! And so, 
 breaking from their bridle, wonder not I 
 scoured the field in the very wantonness 
 of liberty!" 
 
 Louis joined in the gay laugh of his 
 friend, and Wharton proceeded. 
 
 ** I was then hardly nineteen, but I 
 spurned the tedious tutelage of schools 
 and colleges, and threw myself at once 
 into the university of nature 5 the wide 
 and populous world. I went to the con- 
 tinent. — But not to visit the garden of 
 the Hourii ! At Geneva, I became the 
 friend of philosophers; at Paris, the compa- 
 nion of wnts ; in Italy, the counsellor of 
 princes. — Do you mark me ?" 
 
 «« I. do, with wonder and admiration.*' 
 « What I then dared to advise, I am 
 now come to execute." He paused a 
 moment, then resumed, " De Montemar, 
 there are objects at Avignon, of more 
 interest than Vaucluse !" — again he
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE SIDE. 113 
 
 paused, and looked at Louis, expecting a 
 reply. 
 
 ** I do not understand you, my Lord/' 
 
 ** Expound my riddle, and you shall 
 have a better fate than Q^dipus/' 
 
 " I should deserve a worse, were I to 
 waste the time in guesses ; when I may 
 profit by its exposition from yourself." 
 
 The Duke did not like this dullness, 
 but he proceeded. — " De Montemar, 
 what is your opinion of the Marquis of 
 Montrose ? He who CromweU sent to 
 the scaffold for attachment to the house 
 of Stuart." 
 
 " I consider his gallant patriotism," 
 replied Louis, " as hardly second to that of 
 his immortal country-man William Wal- 
 lace ; and could almost envy him his 
 feelings, when the executioner bound to 
 his neck the catalogue of his battles 
 against the regicides. What a conscious- 
 ness of true greatness must have been in 
 the smile with which he welcomed this 
 intended badge of disgrace, as a brighter
 
 114 THE PASTOR*S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 testimony to his honour, than the star of 
 -Saint George which they tore from his 
 breast! '' 
 
 ** Well answered, my promising cate- 
 chumen !'' cried the Duke, ** now for 
 another question, and I have done. — In 
 what respect do you hold honest George 
 Monk, who deserted the blockhead chief 
 of the Roundheads, and recalled the son 
 of his murdered sovereign to the throne 
 of his ancestors ?" 
 
 " Monk does not fire my heart, like 
 Montrose," replied Louis, " I love the 
 direct path ; and honest George was most 
 inclined to crooked ones. — However, he 
 walked straight at last, and for that I ho- 
 . nour him." 
 
 " Then you love the Stuarts ?" 
 
 " Their line is of mingled yarn! — I 
 revere, love, blame, pity them." 
 
 ** De Montemar, you must know the 
 Chevalier de Saint George!" 
 
 «< How? — where?"
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 11^ 
 
 " At Avignon. — Now, do you read 
 me?*' 
 
 Louis met the powerful glance of 
 Wharton's eye, and it shot into his soul. 
 At the same instant the words of his guar- 
 dian seemed to ring in his ear : — TJie 
 wily Duke mil teach you to be a traitor ! 
 — Hot and cold damps burst from every 
 pore of his body. 
 
 " You do not answer me, de Monte- 
 mar ? — I see you are discomposed, — 
 you are agitated ; — and it is a cause to 
 stir up every vital spring in the breast of 
 free-born man ! My blood is ready to 
 follow the course of Derwentwater and 
 Kenmuir ; or to purchase, in some happy 
 field of victory, the re-estabiishment of 
 my lawful king !" 
 
 Louis had been taken unawares, and 
 was still incapable of reply. He verified 
 the remark, that no history is so little 
 understood by young persons as that of 
 their country near their own times. The 
 false lights of party have not sufficiently
 
 116 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 subsided, to allow the regular historian a 
 clear view of events ; and the prejudiced 
 memoirs of the day are too numerous and 
 contradictory to be put into the hands of 
 youth, without making a waste of that 
 time which ought to be devoted to building 
 up a future judgement on the well-found- 
 ed basis of the history of past ages. The 
 subject proposed by the Duke, was there- 
 fore new to the reflections of Louis. He 
 had never questioned, nor confirmed his 
 loyalty to the House of Hanover, by con- 
 sidering the change of succession with 
 any reference to his own peculiar opinions. 
 He had never seen any thing at the par- 
 sonage but peaceful submission to autho- 
 rity, not for wrath, hut conscience sake. 
 At the castle, another sentiment was of- 
 ten agitated ; but the speakers were 
 usually violent, unreflecting characters, 
 whose praise or blame were equally worth- 
 less. However, he could not deny to 
 himself that he had shrunk in horror from 
 recitals of what passed ten years ago.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 11? 
 
 with regard to the rebel lords ; and he 
 also could not forget that his uncle of 
 Lindisfarne had often lamented the se- 
 vere policy of their execution, and wished 
 the State had thought it possible to unite 
 mercy with judgement. " Had His Ma- 
 jesty pardoned them/' said Mr. Athel- 
 stone, ** rebelHon would have perished in 
 their stead ; for the honour of a British 
 heart is stronger than death." 
 
 All this rushed confusedly to the re- 
 collection of Louis. His partialities, ro- 
 mantic associations, and generous enthu- 
 siam, were all on the side of the suffering 
 party ; but his habits of submission had 
 been directed by his best friends to the 
 reigning family. He felt his own in- 
 decison ; he saw the Duke's advantage ; 
 and repeating to himself his uncle's 
 warning, again determined not to linger 
 another hour near the dangerous con- 
 tagion. 
 
 Wharton's observing eye perceived 
 fluctuation in the mind of his friend ; and
 
 118 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 as there was fluctuation on so portentous 
 a subject, he boded a favourable issue 
 to his side of the argument, could he de- 
 tain him a little longer from the island. 
 Should Louis return thither before his 
 faith were actually pledged to the Stuart 
 cause, it could not be doubted he would 
 impart his scruples to the Pastor ; and 
 that true minister of the reformation, 
 would keep him firm to the House of 
 Hanover. Full of this apprehension, 
 and aware that his proselyte must soon 
 be summoned to the boat, unless he 
 could prevent it by some unsuspected 
 manoeuvre, Wharton was not sorry when 
 he saw Sir Anthony and several of the 
 party advancing fast upon them from the 
 house. — The tongues of the ladies pro- 
 claimed their vicinity. 
 
 " Gird your loins, my friend 1" cried 
 the Duke, resuming his usual merriment ; 
 and laughing at the stern air with which 
 Louis turned to their voices : — ** Dalilah 
 and the Philistines are upon you !"
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 119 
 
 " And if every hair on my head were a 
 rope by which they held me," replied 
 Louis, *' I would escape them !" As he 
 spoke, he suddenly turned on his heel, 
 and darted down a vista of firs tow^ards 
 the sea-beach. Wharton did no more 
 than wave his hand to the light-footed 
 Violante. She shot by a cross path 
 through the shrubbery, and at a curve in 
 the avenue met the flying object of her 
 pursuit with such force, that she was 
 struck to the ground. The rest of the 
 party soon hastened forward, by the cries ' 
 of Louis for help j for on raising her, and 
 - finding her insensible, he thought she 
 was killed by the violence of the shock. 
 When they came up he was on one 
 knee, with her head leaning on the 
 other, and gazing with horror on her 
 pale face. The pallid hue of his own, 
 told all that he feared, to- the Duke and 
 Sir Anthony. But the ladies found the 
 case not so desperate y and by the help
 
 120 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 of essences soon restored the fair sufferer 
 to animation. 
 
 Sir Anthony proposed her being taken 
 into the house. But on attempting to 
 rise, she sunk back, almost fainting a 
 second time from the excessive pain of 
 a sprained ancle. Wharton called for a 
 sofa, which being brought, the invalid 
 was carefully placed in it on cushions ; 
 and the gentlemen present, insisted on 
 being its bearers into the castle. As the 
 sofa was raised from the ground, Violante 
 turned to Louis with a languid smile ; 
 ** you will not leave me, Mr. de Mon- 
 temar ?" said she, and stretched out her 
 hand to him, with a look more persua- 
 sive than her words. 
 
 To disappoint the wish and expecta- 
 tion these words and action implied, he 
 found impossible. — He had no supicion 
 that she was running to intercept him, 
 when the accident happened; and now, 
 turning with a respectful bow to her sum- 
 mons, he silently followed the sofa into 
 1
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 121 
 
 the breakfast-room. Her gallant bearers 
 placed it by the fire, at a small distance 
 from the table. The Duke offered his 
 services to the reclining beauty ; but she 
 would accept of no hand to bring her 
 coffee and toast, but that of Louis : sayr 
 ing, that he who wounded, was in duty 
 bound to administer the restoratives. 
 Recovered from his dismay at what might 
 have been the fatal effect of the accident 
 he had so unintentionally occasioned, he 
 gladly took the opportunity to make the 
 amende hojiourable, and express his con- 
 cern at what had happened. 
 
 Time rolled away, and he heard no 
 tidings of the boat. It was an unusual 
 inattention in his uncle's servants, who 
 always vied with each other who should 
 be most prompt in obeying every wish of 
 their beloved Mr. de Montemar. But 
 Wharton had contrived to have the little 
 vessel countermanded, without appear- 
 ing in the orders. Ignorant of this, 
 Louis seized the first moment the inva- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 12^ tHE PASTOR'S FIRE-SmE. 
 
 lid addressed herself to another person ; 
 and in a low voice asked the butler 
 whether the boat were in waiting. The 
 man, not aware of the commands which 
 had been given one way or the other, 
 simply answered the tide had been at ebb 
 two hours. Stung with vexation, Louis 
 started from his chair. Violante ob- 
 served his disorder, and softly enquired 
 the cause. — It was no sooner explained, 
 than casting on him a reproachful look, 
 she burst into tears and turned her head 
 silently away. Louis felt himself in a 
 very embarrassing situation ; and almost 
 unconsciously resuming his seat beside 
 her, he drew a vexatious sigh as he said 
 to himself, — r " I am caught, and coiled 
 in spite of myself!" 
 
 Violante mistook its meaning ; and 
 withdrawing her hand from her eyes, 
 gave him a glance that mantled his face 
 with crimson. Though apparently en- 
 gaged in gay badinage with the other 
 ladies, Wharton did not lose an expres-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 123 
 
 sion of his friend's ccOintenance, as the 
 alluring Frenchwoman continued to con- 
 verse with him in a tone of mingled 
 tenderness and raillery. " If he stand 
 this," thought the Duke, ** he has even 
 more ice, of a certain kind, in his com- 
 position, than he forced me this morning 
 to believe V 
 
 Sir Anthony entered from the hall, 
 calling aloud, *' Who rides this morning? 
 I have ordered horses round to the 
 court." 
 
 " De Montemar, what are you for ?" 
 said the Duke, "I see victory is in the 
 hands where I would always have it; 
 but as the ladies may not wish to have 
 their captive in their way all day ; — are 
 you inclined for a steeple-hunt this morn- 
 ing ?*' 
 
 Louis eagerly embraced the proposal. 
 — Violante coloured, touched his arm ; 
 and pressing it with strong emotion, whis- 
 pered something in his ear. Wharton 
 laughed, and turned on his heel. Louis 
 G 2
 
 124 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 believed himself turned idiot. Aban- 
 doned of his usual presence of mind, he 
 knew not what to say, or how to look ; 
 though he felt perfectly resolved not to 
 sleep another night in the castle, while it 
 contained its present extraordinary in- 
 mates. The seductive scenes of the pre- 
 ceding night, seemed disenchanted before 
 him ; men and women, all were divested 
 of their magic garments, excepting Whar- 
 ton, and he still wore the vesture of 
 light. 
 
 ** Why will he mingle his noble nature 
 with creatures base as these ?" again he 
 said to himself; " are they his toys ? his 
 tools ? — To what purpose ?" 
 
 He was gazing on the Duke, as these 
 thoughts occurred to him, and deepened 
 his reflections. Wharton caught the 
 look; its expression went through him: 
 but waving his hand, as if that would 
 glance it aside, he shook his head sport- 
 ively and exclaimed ; *' You want me to 
 pledge my guarantee to Violante, that
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 125 
 
 there shall be no more desertions! — 
 Believe me, pretty one ! For the bright 
 Pleiades are not more inseparable above, 
 than are your swain and humble servant 
 below." 
 
 « We rise and set together." 
 
 He spoke the last sentence without 
 any reference to the subject which had 
 first suggested the idea; and having in 
 the utterance as much forgotten Violante, 
 as though she had never existed, he put 
 his arm through Louis's, and turned with 
 him out of the room. 
 
 " De Montemar," said he, as they 
 crossed the hall ; " the conversation 
 which w^as interrupted this morning, 
 must be finished. I have put a packet 
 open into your hand, which must be 
 sealed this evening ; else the vagrant 
 leaves may follow the sybil's trick; and 
 1 know nothing of the gatherer, till that 
 doughty Lictor, Jack Ketch, makes me 
 his bow on Tower-Hill." 
 G 3
 
 1^^6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SID^f 
 
 " Surely,^ my Lord, you cannot doubt 
 my honour, if you could my heart ?'* 
 
 «* I will doubt every thing, till that 
 heart is laid open to me. — I vowed to 
 have no disguises with you. — Repay me 
 in kind. — Heart for heart, De Monte- 
 mar, is the only true exchange !" 
 
 Louis did not immediately answer; 
 for he felt what he would not fairly ac- 
 know^ledge to himself, that a mist did 
 sometimes appear to rise over this pro- 
 fessed frankness of the Duke, which 
 often made it uncertain whether he had 
 really shewn his heart at all. — In the 
 midst of a sentiment that seemed direct 
 from the soul, a sudden quirk of fancy 
 would present itself, that turned all 
 athwart into whim and laughter. And 
 the freest disclosure would as frequently 
 start aside, to appear nothing more than 
 a fantastic figure of speech, or break off 
 into irreconcilable fragments, without ap- 
 parent aim or connexion. But for all 
 this, an apology came to the breast of his
 
 •the PASTOR'S FIRE^SIDE. 127 
 
 friend. ** He has embraced the despe- 
 rate fortunes of a dethroned prince. — 
 And perhaps it depends upon the caution 
 of this, that prince's ablest confident, 
 whether they are to be redeemed, or 
 finally consigned to despair !*' 
 
 The horses were at the hall door ; and 
 Sir Anthony, and his other male guests, 
 mounted. On sight of the friends, he 
 •ailed to them, and the grooms bringing 
 forward more horses, the Duke vaulted 
 into his seat, and Louis, with a sensation 
 of a double release, gladly followed his 
 example. — As they turned merrily down 
 the rocky path-way which led by the 
 ancient fosse to the open country, every 
 man had something to say according to 
 his own humour, of the pleasures of the 
 preceding night ; but all concurred in so 
 overcharging their anticipations of the 
 coming evening, that it was easily to be 
 foreseen the revelry of the past, would be 
 increased to an excess in the future, 
 G 4
 
 128 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE.' 
 
 which would destroy all, by drowning 
 pleasure and consciousness in the same 
 stream. 
 
 Sir Anthony appeared to take it for 
 granted, his nephew had completely sur- 
 rendered himself to the impulse which 
 governed them all j but with redoubling 
 disgust, Louis tried to make his uncle 
 comprehend, that so far from intending 
 to partake the projected festivity, he 
 would not go back to the castle, but 
 return to Lindisfarne immediately after 
 their ride. Astonishment, remonstrance, 
 raillery, entreaties, reproaches ; all were 
 successively and successlessly brought 
 forward : Louis found his spirit rise with 
 the clamour of opposition. He was now 
 steadily doing, what he always knew was 
 his only proper conduct; the padlock 
 which had seemed to chain down his 
 faculties under a sense of committing 
 wrong, now burst asunder, and he was 
 all himself again. — Sir Anthony affected 
 not to believe him serious ; talked of
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 129 
 
 Violante, then declared, it was his be- 
 lief, he only wanted to be forced to do 
 the thing he liked ; and whispering the 
 noisy sheriff and others, a loud laugh 
 peeled through the party, and they in- 
 stantly drew around Louis. 
 
 " What do you mean, gentlemen ?'* 
 cried he, glad to be manually opposed 
 by others beside his uncle. 
 
 " To bear you, as the Loves bore 
 Adonis^' — cried Wharton gaily, and 
 planting his steed also, before that of his 
 friend. 
 
 '* Et tu Brute V^ cried Louis ; and 
 striking his spurs into the sides of his 
 horse, the high mettled animal sprang 
 through the foremost rank, dispersed the 
 rest-; and speeding forward with the 
 wings of the wind, was plunged by his 
 determined rider into the receding waters 
 of the tide. 
 
 G 5
 
 ( ISO ) 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 While these events were agitating the 
 dissipated circle at the castle, the simple 
 family on the opposite shore were en- 
 gaged in far different scenes. — Its Pas- 
 tor opened his pious views to the noble- 
 minded Santa Cniz; and the young people 
 obeyed the venerable man's commands, 
 to enjoy the vernal hour of day, with all 
 the zest of their as vernal years. 
 
 Cornelia conducted Don Ferdinand 
 under the ivy-crowned wall which shel- 
 tered her uncle's flower-garden. He 
 admired the disposition of its parterres, 
 and wondered how such beautiful chi- 
 nasters, balsams, and holly-hocks, could 
 bloom in so northern a climate. Alice 
 led him to the aromatic spot where she 
 had stationed her bees, and shewed him
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 131 
 
 the beds of thyme, lavender, and other 
 sweet herbs she had planted for their food. 
 A little onward, raised on a low^ mound, 
 stood an old sun-dial. Its bank was 
 covered with mignonette; and many of 
 Alice's industrious favorites w^ere loading 
 their wings with its extracted honey. 
 She gathered a cluster of the flowers, 
 and gave it to Ferdinand. Cornelia 
 stooped to pluck a piece of sweetbriar, 
 but the prickles prevented her : "I want 
 my cousin's dextrous fingers here," said 
 she with a smile. 
 
 ** Rather his bold ones," cried Alice, 
 as she saw Ferdinand break off the bough, 
 and present it to her sister, leaving the 
 thorns in his hand. 
 
 " If he be as happy as I am, in being 
 wounded in so sweet a cause," rejoined 
 Ferdinand, " Mr. de Montemar is more 
 to be envied than any man on earth." 
 
 " How so ?" enquired Alice, with an 
 incredulous laugh, " I see no pleasure in 
 
 G t)
 
 13^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 being pricked and scratched for the 
 prettiest flower in the world !" 
 
 " But I do, sweet Alice !" said he with 
 a gallant smile, as he presented another 
 branch of the shrub to her. With a faint 
 blush, she glanced at her sister, but Cor- 
 nelia, thinking at the moment of the 
 truant Louis, had not heard what was 
 said; and Ahce, seeing no surprise in 
 her sister at the famiharity of the term, 
 supposed it was a foreign custom ; and 
 unlatching a wicket which led to the 
 pasture-land, bounded with the hghtness 
 of a fawn to the top of an adjacent hiL 
 lock. She stood in the midst of its heathy 
 grass, calling on her sister to follow her, 
 for that was the spot whence they might 
 shew Don Ferdinand the objects of the 
 island to best advantage. Cornelia and 
 her companion were soon by her side ; 
 and as the young Spaniard's excursive 
 eye shot at once across the island's self, 
 to the surrounding ocean, he perceived a
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 133 
 
 cluster of rocks to the north, which shone 
 in the noonday sun hke gems on the belt 
 of the horizon. 
 
 ** I have heard," said he, smiHng, '« that 
 in days of yore, a band of wandering 
 sages, saiHng in these seas, discovered 
 certain islands encompassed with floods of 
 light, and inhabited by blissful souls. 
 These fortunate adventurers called them 
 the Islands of Blessedness. Since that 
 time no traveller has been able to find 
 them. But, as I am a countryman of the 
 great Columbus, I venture to hope the 
 happy discovery was reserved forme; and 
 that there they are /" 
 
 Both sisters remarked the direction of 
 his eyes y and laughing heartily at the 
 compliment his fancy had paid to the 
 most barren of their rocks, told him, they 
 were the Feme Islands. " And so far 
 from being blessed places," said AHce, 
 " my uncle would never allow Cornelia 
 or me to go near them, the landing is so 
 dangerous."
 
 134 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 *• But Louis often visits them with the 
 kelp-gatherers," rejoined Cornelia, " and 
 while their fires reduce the weed to ashes, 
 he generally throws himself on a jutting 
 rock over the sea, to command the view, 
 and sketch the group. Were you to 
 walk these shores on a fine evening at 
 that season of the year, you would ad- 
 mire the picturesque vapour from the 
 kelp-fires, as its wreathing volumes sail 
 away, and mingle with the clouds." 
 
 *« But you would not mistake the kelp- 
 gatherers for blessed spirits !" returned 
 the gay Alice, ** nor run the risque of your 
 life to draw their portraits ! But Louis 
 loves roaming about amongst odd places, 
 as much as you may love a quiet walk, 
 and a bunch of sweet flowers ;" added 
 she, observing the delight with which 
 Ferdinand continued to smell at the mig- 
 nonette, " and so, we must forgive him." 
 
 Ferdinand was gratified at her playful 
 reference to her fragrant gift, and an- 
 swered, ** I do not believe that he can
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SlD£. ISo 
 
 love rock or quicksand better than I 
 could love and cherish some of the sweet 
 flowers of this island, which he seems 
 content to cast away ! — and, pardon me, 
 if I a little doubt the taste of your adven- 
 turous cousin ?" 
 
 The sisters did not quite understand 
 this speech, which seemed to begin in 
 sport, but certainly ended with a serious 
 tone. 
 
 " You mistake my cousin,*' said Cor- 
 nelia, " if you suppose he chuses perilous 
 excursions, from a vanity to shew his 
 courage. — Courage is so natural to 
 him, that he never thinks about it. — 
 The activity of his mind makes exercise 
 necessary to him ; and the fearlessness of 
 his temper renders that easy to him, 
 which might be difficult, if not impossible 
 to timid characters. — But indeed, his 
 affection for us has been the most fre- 
 quent cause of risquing his safety; for he 
 deems no attempt too hazardous, by 
 which he can gratify a wish of my
 
 136 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 mother, or a desire of my sister or my- 
 self." 
 
 . " My uncle will tell you, such have 
 been his ways from a child," cried Alice, 
 " and from the first of my recollection, I 
 remember these frightful tokens of his 
 love ! Coming in with curious aquatic 
 plants he had torn from some hardly ac- 
 cessible rock, for my uncle's herbal ; or 
 making his appearance with shells for me, 
 which he had swam for, and sought in 
 the sand-bank at the point-head. 1 am 
 sure 1 have often admired their beauties 
 through my tears ; but he never would 
 believe we could be frightened." 
 
 *' Indeed," rejoined Cornelia, " after 
 old fisher-John's two sons were dro\vned, 
 I have known Louis absent for hours on 
 the open sea in the poor man's boat, 
 helping him to draw his nets. For no- 
 thing is troublesome, or dangerous to 
 him, that is connected with affection or 
 benevolence." 
 
 " Ah, those daring expeditions suit 
 your taste, Cornelia!" said Alice, with a
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE^SIDE. 137 
 
 shudder ; " You, like Louis, love to ride 
 in the xvkirlwind and direct the storm ! I 
 can never forget his absence one whole 
 night during a frightful tempest, when 
 we did not know but that each horrid 
 blast we listened to, was that which was 
 sinking him to a watery grave. My ter- 
 rors cost me a fit of illness, — and then 
 my uncle made him see the cruelty, and 
 even wickedness, of being rashly brave; 
 for ever since, he has been careful not to 
 put himself in any needless danger." 
 
 Ferdinand sighed heavily, as both 
 sisters separately spoke. He felt a sense 
 of feebleness in his own character, which 
 made him envy the enterprising spirit of 
 Louis. '* Here," murmured he to him- 
 self, " is indeed the fire of youth, the 
 animating principle of future greatness ; 
 while that which burns in my veins, 
 withers my very vitals, and consumes 
 every nobler element within me. Wretch 
 that I am, — reprobate, and accursed !" 
 His lips moved almost audibly, as his ac»
 
 138 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 casing spirit uttered the last words; and 
 unconsciously turning from the sisters, 
 he walked hastily down the hill towards 
 the clifF. 
 
 Cornelia and Alice gazed on each 
 other, astonished; ** That is very oddl" 
 cried the latter, ** Did you observe his 
 countenance ?" 
 
 ** Yes, he suddenly knit his brows ; 
 and I thought looked quite strange V 
 
 " Let us follow him," rejoined Alice, 
 " if he go on at that rate, and not being 
 aware, he may slip down some of the fis- 
 sures into the sea." 
 
 Alice hastened forward as she spoke ; 
 and not merely walking, but running, 
 joined him as he had gained the top of 
 the cliff. Cornelia came up soon after; and 
 seeking to divert Ferdinand from what- 
 ever painful thoughts possessed him, she 
 uttered the first idea that presented it- 
 self, and exclaimed as she approached, 
 " You two stand there, your garments 
 waving in the breeze, like Adam and the
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SJDE. 159 
 
 angel overlooking the earth and its 
 waters." 
 
 " To me," answered Ferdinand, " it 
 might well be called the hill of paradise ; 
 if you and your sweet Alice, would in- 
 deed be to me what the sister- angels 
 were to the erring father of mankind T* 
 
 Alice looked from him to her sister, 
 with a tender pity that did not escape its 
 object. Again he found a balmy warmth 
 encircle his heart. The freezing hand 
 of despair, which a moment before had 
 obliterated all other impressions, was 
 again withdrawn. " Have I," said he to 
 himself, " indeed interested this innocent 
 creature? I, so unworthy, so self-de- 
 spised !" He drew towards her, as she 
 followed Cornelia, who turned tlirough 
 some broken craggs, and crossing a ra- 
 vine, brought them forth on a ridge that 
 faced the west. At their feet lay the 
 strait which divides the two shores. The 
 tide was retreating, and rapidly discover- 
 ing the sands and sunken rocks which
 
 140 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 form the foundation of the stupendous 
 cliff on which stand the towers of Bam- 
 borough. 
 
 «^ What princely fortress is that^* 
 demanded Ferdinand, surprised into ex- 
 clamation by the commanding line of 
 coast ; and the magnitude of the warlike 
 structure which crowned its summit. 
 
 <* It is the castle of my mother's ances- 
 tors,'* replied Cornelia ; ** under that pa- 
 rental roof, when my dear grandfather 
 lived, she passed many a happy day ; and 
 there my sister Alice was born." 
 
 Ferdinand could not forbear looking 
 from its regal grandeur, to the two lovely 
 beings by his side : the offspring of the 
 barons bold, who in former ages had 
 poured the storm of sovereignty from those 
 embattled walls! and they were content to 
 pass their lives in an obscure parsonage, 
 on an almost deserted island ! — Their 
 garments were simple as their lot ; but 
 the air of the one still demanded the 
 coronet of her ancestors ; while the other,
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 141 
 
 fair, tender, and unaspiring, seemed 
 ready to thrink from the threatening 
 front of what had once been tlie strong- 
 hold of her fathers. ** Bright Corneha!" 
 said he to himself, as he looked on the 
 castle, and listened to her observations ; 
 *< your lover may be he who courts the 
 wonderful, the wild, on the dizzy steep 
 or the wide ocean ! — But my heart — 
 had it not engendered the vulture which 
 preys upon its vitals ! — would cleave to 
 seclusion and peace, in the bosom of your 
 timid Ahce." 
 
 Cornelia described the extent of ground 
 which the fortress occupied ; enum.erated 
 its towers, and assigned to each the era 
 of its erection. She pointed with par- 
 ticular complacency to the white walls 
 of the formidable dungeon ; and quoted 
 Archives in Durham Abbey, to prove 
 that its foundation was the work of a 
 Roman Emperor, ^he named the Saxon 
 Kings, from Ida to Egbert, who had 
 raised their standard on its roof j and 
 
 7
 
 142 THE PASTOR'S VIRE-SIDE. 
 
 made Ferdinand distinguish a high-grated 
 window, which yet went by the name of 
 Queen Bebba's chamber. 
 
 " But what is that in the sea yonder?" 
 asked her auditor ; who had accidentally 
 looked down to the dashing surges at the 
 foot of the rock, while she was directing 
 his attention along its summit. The eyes 
 of the sisters followed his. 
 
 " It seems to be somebody swimming," 
 said Cornelia. 
 
 " To me," cried Alice, " it appears to 
 be a man on horseback." 
 
 " Hardly possible!" exclaimed Fer- 
 dinand, *' what human being would be 
 so mad? Or rather, how can any man 
 and horse live on such a sea as that !" 
 
 « It is, indeed, rashness, in the present 
 state of the tide ;" returned Cornelia, 
 <« the sands are so shifting, and the sea 
 so rough. But when it is quite at ebb, 
 or before it be amply full, persons, ac- 
 quainted with the track, may find safe 
 opportunities of passing on foot or on
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 143 
 
 horseback from the mainland. We have 
 it on record, that in the persecuting 
 reign of WiUiam the Conqueror, a Httle 
 army of monks brought the reHcs of 
 KSaint Cuthbert from Durham to the op- 
 posite shore, and crossed with them, dry- 
 shod, to Holy Island." 
 
 *' Oar cockle gatherers do the same 
 continually," cried Alice, " but certainly 
 nev^er with the tide in the state it is now ; 
 and so, most likely, that is some poor 
 smuggler flying from the revenue of- 
 ficers.*' 
 
 While Cornelia gently rebuked her, 
 for bestowing an epithet of pity on such 
 desperate violators of the law, the sisters 
 descended to the beach, to gratify the 
 curiosity of Ferdinand, who wished to 
 see the hardy cavalier come to land. 
 As they hastened along the cliffs, they 
 saw the roaring waves, bright in the sun 
 beams, break over the horse and the 
 rider ; and as the noble animal rose from 
 the abyss, and resolutely breasted the
 
 Ui THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 surge, the lashing waters whitened his 
 sides with their foam. In one of these 
 fearful moments, a huge wave, rolling 
 towards the island, raised the man and 
 horse upon its immense bosom, to a 
 height almost level with the rock ; and 
 then plunged with them into a depth that 
 seemed to cover them for ever. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven, it is Louis!" cried 
 Alice — in that fatal instant she had recog- 
 nised him, and with frantic shrieks ran 
 forward, as if to meet him in the ocean. 
 
 Finding that the extraordinary swell 
 of the last wave, had not merely torn 
 the footing of his stout hunter from the 
 ground, but had exhausted his strength, 
 Louis slid from his back while he was yet 
 overwhelmed by the weight of the surge ; 
 and grasping the bridle, swam with him 
 through the deep water. Coming to the 
 breakers, he waded the rest ; and having 
 drawn his faithful horse on the shelving 
 rocks, was patting his heaving sides, 
 when he perceived the terrified party
 
 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 145 
 
 rushing down the nearest path to his as- 
 sistance. Ferdinand had beheld the 
 whole with wonder. And now that he 
 stood apart, and saw him, with dripping 
 garments, and uncovered head, reining 
 and soothing the alarmed animal, that he 
 might not injure the sisters ; the asto- 
 nished Spaniard could not help exclaim- 
 ing to himself: 
 
 ** Mounting with springing step the broad ascent, 
 A buoyant form of matchless shape I spied, 
 Attired hke one whose ardent soul is bent 
 To win in fleetest race, by glory's side. 
 Flinging its changeless splendor far and wide 
 From his bright forehead flamed the polar star; 
 Through his clear cheek the ruby-tinctured tide 
 Shone with a healthful glow ; while on the air 
 Back from his radiant eyes, was blown the clustering 
 hair !" 
 
 ♦* Louis ! Louis !" exclaimed both sis- 
 ters at once. Alice clasped her hands 
 and sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Why, my dearest cousin, encounter 
 all this danger ?*' cried Cornelia. 
 
 ** 1 had no other way of getting to you." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 " Hear him!*' cried Alice, running 
 back to Ferdinand, and grasping his arm ; 
 << I knew it was not his own ^ill that 
 detained him from us. Dear, dear, Louis !" 
 and weeping again with the excess of her 
 joy, she unconsciously allowed Ferdinand 
 to support her with his arm. 
 
 Louis called to a fisherman he descried 
 among the rocks; and giving him his 
 horse to lead to the Parsonage stables, 
 proceeded with Cornelia to join the 
 trembhng Alice and the young Spaniard, 
 who, his cousin had told him, w^as their 
 uncle's guest. 
 
 " My sweetest Alice !" said Louis, as 
 he approached her. The moment she 
 heard his footstep and the salutation, she 
 took her hands from her streaming eyes, 
 and threw herself upon his breast. 
 
 Cornelia put her hand upon Ferdi- 
 nand's arm, and impelHng him gently 
 forward ; ** pardon me, Don Ferdinand," 
 said she, " but Alice is so weak in her 
 nerves ! Or rather, her tender nature is
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 147 
 
 SO alive to any danger threatening those 
 she loves, that at such times she is harcQy 
 herself. She will recover soonest when 
 left alone with our dear, but still rash 
 cousin." 
 
 " What could impel Mr. de Montemar 
 to so extraordinary an act ?" 
 
 " His word, given to my uncle, not to 
 be a willing inmate with Duke Wharton. 
 His Grace is at the castle ; and he and 
 Sir Anthony, finding Louis determined 
 to return to Lindisfarne, would have 
 made him their prisoner, had he not 
 effected his escape by this terrible ex- 
 pedient.'* 
 
 ** But why did Mr. Athel stone require 
 such a promise from your cousin ?" asked 
 Ferdinand ; <* has the gay Duke offended 
 your uncle ?" 
 
 " As he has offended all virtuous men," 
 replied Cornelia with severity. Ferdi- 
 nand regretted his inconsiderate question. 
 Fearing the impression it might leave on 
 the sister of Alice, he sighed deeply, and 
 H 2
 
 148 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 exclaimed; " happy De Montemar! to 
 be in this blessed seclusion so strange to 
 vice, that its first aspect causes you to 
 fly with horror ! In the wide, worthless 
 world. Miss Coningsby, vice meets us at 
 every turning ; and, to our shame, fami- 
 liarity with the object soon makes us 
 indifferent to its deformity." 
 
 The young Spaniard again lost his self- 
 possession ; and with an almost convulsed 
 countenance and waiving his hand for 
 her not to follow him, he darted thi'ough 
 a chasm into the craggs ; and by their 
 intervening projections instantly disap-r 
 peared. Cornelia joined Alice and her 
 cousin ; then turned with them into the 
 direct path to the Parsonage, that Louis 
 might be released from his wet garments ; 
 and her uncle relieved from any alarm 
 the arrival of the horse might have oc- 
 casioned. As they walked homeward, 
 she gave her cousin a brief account of 
 the visit of the Marquis and his son; 
 and he much surprised her, when he de-
 
 IfttE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 149 
 
 dared this to be the first intimation he 
 had received of their arrival. Alice was 
 not sparing of her invectives against Sir 
 Anthony for his dishonourable conceal- 
 ment of her uncle's messenger ; and then 
 enquired how Louis had at last broken 
 away from his detainers. 
 
 " That you shall hear by and by," said 
 he, " but I don't know what Cornelia will 
 say ; for, indeed, I had a run for it !" 
 Cornelia smiled; and he added in a 
 graver tone ; " but if Mr. Athel stone 
 knew the Duke of Wharton was at Barn- 
 borough, what must he have thought of 
 my apparent neglect of his summons? 
 Of my shameless contempt of my pro- 
 mise ?'' 
 
 " No circumstance could have made 
 him believe that any neglect came from 
 you," cried Ahce, ** but we never heard 
 of that frightful Duke being there ; and 
 so my uncle thought nothing about your 
 stay, only as he regretted your losing so 
 much of the society of these noble Spa- 
 H 3
 
 150 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 niards.'* On the first intimation of their 
 being Spaniards, Louis had eagerly en- 
 quired whether they came from his fa- 
 ther J and Cornelia having answered no ; 
 that their errand was the young man's 
 health; he listened with benevolent in- 
 terest to Alice's questions, of what was 
 become of Don Ferdinand. Cornelia 
 shook her head ; and describing how he 
 had left her, had just finished her account 
 of his strange behaviour, when they ar- 
 rived at the garden wicket. Louis en- 
 tered the house by a side-door, that he 
 might rid himself of his disordered cloaths 
 before he saw the family ; and Cornelia 
 went to communicate his arrival to her 
 mother and uncle. 
 
 Being satisfied of the safety of her 
 cousin, Alice felt her anxiety re-awaken 
 for another object. She lingered in the 
 garden behind her sister; she returned 
 to the wicket, and stood gazing through 
 it ; then stepping up the sun dial mound, 
 looked from side to side over the bound-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 151 
 
 aries of the garden. Ferdinand was no 
 where to be descried. The treacherous 
 footing among the rocks, the perpendi- 
 cular cHfFs, his abstracted eye, and hurry- 
 ing step, again presented themselves to 
 her thoughts; and alarmed and agitated, 
 she turned wistfully towards the hill be- 
 yond the little gate. ** From that spot, 
 I might certainly see him. — But if he 
 were to see me, how strange he would 
 think it! And Cornelia too, that I should 
 absent my self from dear Louis, after such 
 danger !" 
 
 Just as with blush succeeding blush, 
 she made these comments, the object of 
 her anxiety appeared from the opposite 
 side on the top of the hill, leaning on his 
 father's arm. Joy, confusion, a sense of 
 shame she had never felt before, over- 
 whelmed her ; and springing from the 
 mound, she ran hastily across the garden. 
 She darted into the house, as if fearful of 
 pursuit ; and stopped, panting, before the 
 door of her uncle's library. Supposing it 
 H 4
 
 15^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 vacant, and glad to recover breath un- 
 observed, she opened the door, and 
 found herself in the presence of her 
 uncle. He was bending before a table, 
 and leaning his head upon his elapsed 
 hands. On hearing a step, he looked 
 up. Alice stood confounded. 
 
 " My child," cried he, " come hither, 
 and with me thank the giver of all good 
 for the virtuous firmness of your cousin ! 
 He has not only preserved that bloom of 
 truth unimpaired, which, if once lost 
 never is regained ; but he has risqued his 
 life this morning, to avoid a man who, I 
 know, he loves, but whose society he re- 
 linquishes because he believes him to be 
 as full of vices as of charms. Come Alice, 
 and bow with me before his Almighty 
 guardian!'* 
 
 Alice sunk on her knees by the side of 
 her uncle. She bent her face upon his 
 fervent hands, and pressed them with her 
 lips as her heart breathed with devotion
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE, ISS 
 
 the thanksgiving his eloquent piety pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 Cornelia, having been the glad mes- 
 senger to Mr. Athelstone, and afterwards 
 to her mother, of the safe return of Louis, 
 at^companied Mrs. Coningsby to the ge- 
 neral sitting room. It was that in which 
 they had welcomed the travellers the pre- 
 ceding night, and where they found 
 them now. Ferdinand had cast himself 
 into a chair, fatigued and gloomy. His 
 father stood by the window, gazing on 
 him in anxious silence. Mrs. Coningsby 
 had not time to address either, before the 
 Pastor entered. He advanced immedi- 
 ately to Santa Cruz ; and his aged eyes 
 not discerning the peculiar sadness of his 
 guest, " My Lord Marquis," cried he, 
 " Louis de Montemar is returned. And 
 I take shame to myself for having doubted 
 the integrity of his word." 
 
 " My son has told me sufficient of the 
 manner in which Mr. de Montemar has 
 Jcept it, to fill me with respect for his 
 H 5
 
 1^4- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 principles, and to inspire me with some- 
 thing more than admiration for the deter- 
 mination with which he has asserted 
 them/' 
 
 Before the Marquis had ceased speak- 
 ing, a quick step was heard in the pas- 
 sage. 
 
 ** Here is my dear nephew," cried 
 Mrs. Coningsby, and the next moment 
 he opened the door ; but perceiv ing the 
 strangers, he checked the buoyant glad- 
 ness with which he was coming forward, 
 and with a graceful bow advanced into 
 the room. Alice glided in after him, and 
 took a seat behind her mother's chair, 
 Mr. Athelstone immediately named to 
 him the Marquis Santa Cruz, and Don 
 Ferdinand d'Osorio. The Marquis scan- 
 ned for a moment the son of Ripperda, 
 »nd the comparison he could not but 
 draw was wormwood to the heart of a 
 father. Nature had given Louis a pass- 
 port to almost every bosom ; a counte- 
 nance and a figure which needed no ad-
 
 \tHE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 155 
 
 ditlon to complete the perfect form of 
 youthful nobleness. 
 
 ** Mr. de Montemar/' said Santa Cruz, 
 addressing him with a sigh he could not 
 smother, ** you have this day proved how 
 worthy you are of the name you bear. 
 I shall be proud of your friendship for 
 my son.'* 
 
 Louis found himself pressed to the 
 breast of Don' Ferdinand, who indistinct- 
 ly repeated his father's assurance of es- 
 teem. Praise and flattery of dubious 
 import were fresh in the mind of Louis ; 
 but there was something in the encomium 
 uttered by the Marquis, an air of noble 
 sincerity rather than of courtly politeness, 
 that filled him with a pleasure very ap- 
 parent in the luminous countenance with 
 which he bowed in modest silence to what 
 was said. The Marquis pursued the sub- 
 ject with a vehemence not usual to him j 
 ^nd still addressing Louis, spoke of the 
 indispensible duty of maintaining mutual 
 confidence between relations j and then 
 H 6
 
 1^6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE- 
 
 expatiated on the honourable contest 
 which man is commissioned to hold at all 
 periods of his life with the ignoble im- 
 pulses of sense, till the appetites are 
 subdued, and the passions themselves 
 become the agents of virtue. 
 
 " Few young men," added he, ** would 
 have made so bold an amendment as you 
 you have done, on the story of Telema- 
 chus. He waited till Mentor thrust him 
 from the rock, you cast yourself into the 
 sea!'' 
 
 Louis lost the pleasure of being ap- 
 proved, in the embarrassing personality 
 of the language. He thought the Mar- 
 quis went much farther than delicacy 
 could warrant, or real respect for the 
 object of his praise would have dictated. 
 What had he then heard of the scene at 
 the castle ? How much was left for him- 
 self to tell liis revered uncle? And 
 whether did he indeed deserve praise or 
 blame for his tardy yet desperate deter- 
 mination to escape ? While this passed 
 8
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 157 
 
 in his thoughts, he looked down dis- 
 ordered. But some were present, who 
 read in the anxious face of Santa Cruz a 
 dearer aim than paying a compHment to 
 a stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Coningsby observed that Ferdi- 
 nand was discomposed by his father's re- 
 marks ; and the Marquis himself soon 
 perceived the mischief he had done. He 
 sought to excite a generous emulation in 
 his despondent son ; but he saw that his 
 extraordinary eulogy of Louis had been 
 received by Ferdinand as an insidious 
 reproach to himself: and resentful of 
 the covert infliction, he stood distant, 
 frowning and pale. A withering chill 
 struck to the heart of the father, who be- 
 came abruptly silent. Striving to shake 
 off his embarrassment, Louis looked up, 
 and met the haughty glance of Don Fer- 
 dinand. When their eyes encountered, 
 the Spaniard's ashy cheek flashed scarlet, 
 and he turned with a scornful air towards 
 the window. This, by oflending Louis,
 
 158 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 tended to restore his self-possession. 
 Whatever the father might intend by his 
 excessive praise, the son evidently shewed 
 that he despised its object. Louis thought 
 he could not mistake the looks of the 
 young Spaniard, and a sense of self-re- 
 spect immediately dispelled his confusion. 
 Pleased with the truth of the Marquis's 
 remarks, the Pastor had remained a 
 gratified listener. But Alice, observing 
 the gloom of Ferdinand; and half sus- 
 pecting there was some reproving refer- 
 ence to him in what had been said, took 
 advantage of the general pause ; and 
 hoping to change the conversation, or 
 at least take it out of the Marquis's 
 hand's ; she whispered her mother to 
 ask of Louis the particulars of his deten- 
 tion at the castle. Mrs. Coningsby did 
 so, adding, ** It will interest our guests : 
 — and I am anxious to know how you 
 could be driven to so dangerous an al- 
 ternative.'*
 
 THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. 159 
 
 Louis felt new embarrassment at this 
 request ; and in a low voice he replied to 
 his aunt, " 1 am sure, madam, you will ex- 
 cuse me, if I do not relate circumstances 
 in the presence of these gentlemen, 
 which might seem to cast some blame on 
 a relation to whom I owe gratitude, if 
 not unquestionable respect ?'* 
 
 The Marquis rose from his seat, on 
 over-hearing this answer, and taking 
 Louis's hand ; " young man," said he, 
 " I honour you." Louis could not doubt 
 that look, that voice, that pressure ; and 
 blaming himself for having been inclined 
 to take a prejudice against the father, 
 from the repelling manners of the son ; 
 he gazed long and silently on the closed 
 door, after the Marquis and Ferdinand 
 had left the room.
 
 ( 160 ) 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Understanding the delicacy of Saiita 
 Cruz, in thus having withdrawn ; and to 
 leave the room free for his return, the 
 Pastor retired with his family into, the 
 library, where they listened without in- 
 terruption to a brief account of what had 
 passed at the castle. — Louis only ex- 
 cepted Wharton's mysterious discourse ; 
 and a little softened his representation of 
 the scenes wuth the female visitors. He 
 did not mean to deceive in either case ; 
 but honour forbade his betraying the 
 Duke; and the decency of a manly 
 mind, almost unconsciously threw a shade 
 over descriptions which confessed their 
 nature, by shrinking from disclosure. 
 
 Mr. Athelstone scarcely spoke during 
 the recital. He listened with an atten-
 
 THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. I6l 
 
 tion that considered every circumstance, 
 and weighed every word. — The ladies 
 were affected differently* Mrs. Conings- 
 by inveighed against Sir Anthony, and 
 extolled Duke Wharton for his unex- 
 pected interference in favour of her 
 nephew's return. Cornelia expressed 
 her wonder that women of any respecta- 
 bility could bring themselves to share 
 the boisterous society of the baronet and 
 his companions. — And Alice asked, as 
 actresses must copy from the best models, 
 whether it could really be the fashion in 
 London and abroad, for women to be so 
 very easy with men? — " If it is," said 
 she, looking at her sister ; " how very 
 stupid Don Ferdinand must think you 
 and me !" 
 
 Louis smiled, and thought ; ** Did you 
 know all the ease of those ladies, how 
 little would you have sullied those pure 
 lips with even the mention of their 
 names." But he only answered, " My 
 dear Alice, license in your sex is n^re
 
 16S THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SI0E. 
 
 complimented than respected by ours. — 
 Modesty in woman must be the fashion 
 with men of principle in every country." 
 When he closed his relation, Mrs. 
 Coningsby rose from her chair in vehe- 
 ment indignation at her brother ; who 
 had thus sought to gratify a whim, at 
 the expence of his own honour, and the 
 risque of his nephew's life. — The sisters 
 trembled at what might have been the 
 fatal consequence of Louis's desperate 
 escape. And to calm the three, by di- 
 verting their attention to what .he felt 
 they were all most inhospitably neglect- 
 ing, Mr. Athelstone proposed their seek- 
 ing the Marquis and his son ; while he 
 remained a few minutes with Louis, to 
 make some necessary observations on 
 what they had just heard. 
 
 Louis foresaw that his uncle meant to 
 enquire more particularly respecting the 
 Duke, than he had thought fit to do 
 before his nieces, — When they had left 
 thf room, the good old man drew his
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE. 163 
 
 chair close to his nephew, and with earn- 
 est tenderness asked him if he had dis- 
 closed all? — The cheeks of Louis kind- 
 led and his eyes fell. 
 
 <' My child," cried the Pastor, ** these 
 answer for you. — You have not ! — 1 
 guessed it, from your manner when you 
 spoke of those women, and that dissem- 
 bhng Wharton. — Fear not to confess to 
 me. — What is it that you have withheld 
 from me ?" 
 
 " Nothing, I trust, my dearest Sir, to 
 justify this extraordinary agitation in 
 yourself.*' 
 
 « Thank God ! Thank God. — That 
 open brow is still unmarked with consci- 
 ousness of guilt. — Oh, my child, may it 
 be ever thus with thee ! — Preserve that 
 innocence, So bright, so peace-bestowing ! 
 and never hesitate doing as you did this 
 morning, risking your life in its preserv- 
 ation." 
 
 "1 never will, my uncle: — So help 
 me, heaven !"
 
 164 TH£ PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 A solemn pause ensued. — When Mr, 
 Athelstone again spoke, the restored se- 
 renity of his mind was seen in the 
 benign composure with which he pro- 
 ceeded to discuss the very subject which, 
 a few moments before, had occasioned 
 him so much emotion. He at once ex- 
 pressed his belief that his nephew's con- 
 test at Bamborough had been of a more 
 serious nature than he had yet allowed ; 
 and he hoped he was not uncharitable in 
 suspecting that Duke Wharton made 
 those theatrical ladies his tools to detain 
 Louis, while he played the disinterested 
 part of promoting his release. Louis 
 would not admit this inference ; but 
 he acknow^ledged that his uncle had 
 guessed right with regard to the share 
 the ladies had in protracting his stay. 
 He ingenuously told the whole relating 
 to them ; and did not even disguise his 
 own delusion of senses during the mid- 
 night revels. 
 
 The venerable Pastor lifted up his
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 165 
 
 clasped hands : — " Anthony ! vile An- 
 thony !" were his ejaculations during the 
 recital. •■ — " Oh, Louis," cried he, " the 
 bane of your life was in that hour ! — 
 and in the blindness of your cheated 
 imagination, had you put forth your 
 
 hand to take the poisoned cup 
 
 alas, dear child of my sainted niece, how 
 near were these grey hairs being brought 
 with shame and sorrow to the grave !" — 
 He paused ; then resumed ; for Louis 
 was too much affected to interrupt him, 
 
 '* I cannot excuse the Duke. — I 
 know^ him to be profligate ; though to 
 you he affects to despise the companions 
 of his debasing pleasures. These women 
 were in his train ; and I firmly believe 
 he excited their practices on your inex- 
 perienced heart." 
 
 <« How ? — Why ?" 
 
 " That he might have you in his 
 power." 
 
 ** For what? my uncle." He had no 
 gooner asked the question, than recol-
 
 166 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 lection of the park discourse, answered 
 him. 
 
 " I know not for what," replied Mr. 
 Athelstone, ** Probably he does not ex- 
 actly know himself. — But there is a 
 principle in wickedness that delights in 
 laying human virtue waste, merely for 
 the sake of destruction ! The prince of 
 evil was a murderer from the beginning ! 
 and so are all his followers." 
 
 " But my dear Sir, taking it for 
 granted that Duke Wharton had an ob- 
 ject to gain with me, how would my 
 subjection to the seductions of these 
 women, put me in his power ?" 
 
 " He would have been your master in 
 the new science you began to learn. — 
 He would have governed your passions by 
 the wiles of these wantons ; — and, self- 
 abased, and dependant on him for the 
 wretched wages of your sin ; how abject 
 would have been your slavery! How 
 omnipotent his controul !" 
 
 ]LK)uis felt the cold damps of suspicion
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 167 
 
 drop upon his heart. — He turned pale ; 
 he gasped for breath. A thousand cir- 
 cumstances which might corroborate his 
 uncle's suggestion rushed upon his re- 
 collection. Though Wharton ridiculed 
 the advances of these women, he did not 
 repel them! Though he scorned the 
 sensualist's pursuit, he boasted of seem- 
 ing to share it, that he might turn him 
 to his purpose. And when Louis re- 
 treated in his sight from the temptations 
 he feared, did not the Duke rather laugh 
 him into daring their strength, than en- 
 courage his flying from their influence ? 
 — Louis had never before doubted 
 human being ; much less suspected per- 
 fidy in the man who solicited his con- 
 fidence, and whose irresistible persua- 
 sions had charmed him of more than half 
 his heart. The Pastor grasped the cold 
 hand of his nephew. 
 
 *« Louis, can you be thus disturbed, by 
 nothing more than my representation of 
 what might have been ?" 
 
 lO
 
 168 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 " My most revered, my best friend!" 
 cried he, straining the old man's hand to 
 his breast ; " There are some views of 
 human nature that strike an honest heart 
 with horror. But I cannot suspect Duke 
 Wharton of such murderous treachery, 
 when he had that very heart in his hand. 
 Oh, my uncle, wrest from me the thought! 
 It seems to cover the character of man 
 with one universal blot." 
 
 Mr. Athelstone allowed the violence of 
 his nephew's feeHngs to exhaust itself, 
 before he made a reply. He saw sonie- 
 thing had passed between Louis and the 
 Duke, which the former still kept secret; 
 and confident in his integrity, he deter- 
 mined not to press a disclosure he ap-. 
 peared so averse to offering voluntarily, 
 
 <* I perceive, Louis," said he, " that 
 you do think it is possible you might 
 have been placed in the predicament I 
 have supposed. I also perceive this 
 siibtle nobleman has got you so far into 
 his power as to have obtained your con=
 
 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 169 
 
 fidence, and a pledge from you of secrecy. 
 I do not require you to betray it j but I 
 warn you again ! You have put your 
 heart into the hand of a man who is prac- 
 tised in deceiving ; and who haa no value 
 for your deposit, but as it suits his pur- 
 pose to make you his toy or his tooL 
 These are his words, as you repeated 
 them to me ; and let them be his judge.** 
 
 Louis was shocked to find this accu- 
 sation lodge, and not rebound from 
 his heart. He acknowledged that th» 
 Duke did engage him in a conversation 
 he would rather have avoided ; but no 
 pledge of secrecy had been demanded ; 
 yet it was implied, and he trusted his 
 uncle would think the word of honour 
 he then gave ought to be respected. 
 
 " Your uncle, my child, will never in- 
 duce you to violate that fidelity of word, 
 which he has ever taught you to regard 
 as one of the most sacred bonds of society. 
 But, without committing yourself by any 
 answer to what I may say, you must 
 
 VOL, I. I
 
 170 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIM. 
 
 allow me to speak to the subject on which 
 !]f beHeve your honour has been given?*' 
 ' " Speak freely, Sir, and I shall be 
 grateful, but on your own terms, I make 
 no answer." 
 
 ■ He prepared to listen, looking down, 
 that Mr. Atheist one might not read by 
 the consciousness of his eyes, how true or 
 false was his guess. 
 
 The good Pastor had no difficulty in 
 fixing his suspicions on some confidential 
 communication respecting the expatriated 
 royal family. Duke Wharton was the 
 hear relation of the unfortunate Lord 
 Derwentwater, who died on the scaffold, 
 in the cause of James Stuart ; and from 
 that hour his young kinsman had de- 
 clared so loud an indignation of the 
 {severity of the sentence, that his guar- 
 dians could hold him in no bounds. And 
 ever smce, it was more than suspected 
 thatt his influence was secretly used to 
 fnaintain the interests which the expelled 
 Prince still preserved in some parts of
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. I7I 
 
 the kingdom. Mr. Athelstone was aware 
 that hopes were now reviving, which it 
 was supposed had been finally crushed 
 six years ago on the field of Glenshiel- 
 But a patriot king was still only a vision. 
 There were features in the personal cha- 
 racter of George the First which rendered 
 him unpopular with a high-spirited and 
 intelligent nobility. He was haughty, 
 reserved, and severe. All sincere mem- 
 bers of the reformed church, and friends 
 of national liberty, amongst the middle 
 classes of the people, had the good sense 
 to compromise the defects of the indivi- 
 dual, for the general benefit of possess- 
 ing a protestant king, and a limited mo- 
 narchy. A large proportion of the 
 nobility also, were of this opinion ; while 
 others merely followed the stream of 
 power; and the rest rather endured than 
 rejoiced in the changed succession. 
 Though the principle of the nation at 
 large was thus firm to its own measure of 
 faith and of loyalty, yet parties ran high 
 I 2
 
 17^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 in the English metropolis ; and the court 
 at St. Germain's, mistaking the rage of 
 faction for public discontent, conceived 
 new hopes of being recalled to the seat of 
 its ancient glory. Elated with these ex- 
 pectations, the widowed queen of James 
 the Second, in one part of the continent, 
 and the Prince her son in another, drew 
 liround them all whom personal devotion, 
 fancied interest,, or a spirit of adventure, 
 could animate to try again the often-dis- 
 puted cause. The policy of Europe con- 
 tributed to keep alive these pretensions ; 
 for whenever any new circumstance of 
 national jealousy excited a country to dis- 
 tm-b the peace of England, the rival 
 Power had only to exchange ambassadors 
 with St. Germain's, and make the restor- 
 ation of its family a pretext for hostilities. 
 Such had been the case in 1715, and also 
 in 1719, when Spain assisted the Chevalier 
 Saint George in his descent on Scotland. 
 But with new ministers came new sys- 
 tems; and it was now whispered that
 
 THE PASTOR'S ITRE-SIDE. 173 
 
 Philip the Fifth was veering round to the 
 side of the house of Hanover. 
 
 Mr. Athelstone hastily ran over these 
 preliminaries to the inference he meant 
 to draw; observing the fluctuating com- 
 plexion of his nephew ; and believing 
 that in guessing the subject of the Duke's 
 discourse, he had also discovered its 
 motive. In his morning's conversation 
 with the Marquis, that nobleman had 
 told him an anecdote of the Duke which 
 bore on his present surmises. During 
 the preceding Christmas, the Spanish 
 ambassador at Paris had met Wharton at 
 a diplomatic dinner given by the French 
 minister. Flushed with wine, half-jest, 
 half-earnest, the gay Duke interrupted a 
 discussion on the desperation of the 
 Stuart cause, by declaring himself its 
 champion. " My master's interest," 
 cried he, <*has hitherto been mismanaged. 
 Perth and two or three other old women, 
 like Macbeth's witches, have met together 
 under the portal of St. Germain's, to pro- 
 I S
 
 174- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-STBK; 
 
 phesy of crowns, and produce haltersl 
 But they are now laid in the red sea! And 
 man and determination are called upon 
 to act, I bring both in my own person, 
 and am ready to run a tilt with George 
 of Hanover, and Robert Walpole to 
 boot, whenever your good kings will open 
 the field to me!" 
 
 •* My dear Louis," continued the 
 Pastor, ** here, I doubt not, this zealous 
 champion has come to collect for his lists ; 
 and you would be a second to gain him a 
 triumph." 
 
 Louis surprised, turned his eyes on 
 liis uncle. 
 
 , " Yes, you, — as a promise of your 
 father." 
 
 ** My father Sir 1 how could I engage 
 for my father? and how could my father 
 serve the cause you suspect the Duke 
 has at heart?" 
 
 «' Your father was the energy of Hol- 
 land ; and, 1 understand, is the wisdom 
 of Spain. We knew that he was respected
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 175 
 
 by the Spanish nation, and possessed the 
 confidence of its monaixh. But I was 
 not aware of t]ie extent of his power in 
 that country, till I learnt it yesterday 
 from the Marquis Santa Cruz. He tells 
 me, that since the removal of Cardinal 
 Alberoni from the place of prime mi- 
 nister, others may have the title, but your 
 father dictates the measures. Indeed, 
 added the Marquis, in any state he must 
 ever have proved himself a great man ; 
 but Spain is his country; and restored 
 to that, he flourishes like a tree in its 
 native soil.'* 
 
 Louis knew that his family was ori- 
 ginally Spanish. That his grandfather, 
 Don Juan de Montemar, Duke of Rip* 
 perda, had removed from Spain in a pique 
 against his sovereign. On further pro- 
 vocation he joined an insurrection in the 
 Netherlands. The King retaliated, by 
 confiscating his patrimonial estates in 
 Andalusia, and degrading him from the 
 rank of Grandee. Separated for ever 
 I 4
 
 17* THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 from his native country, and loathing its 
 very remembrance, he laid aside his Spa- 
 nish title with disdain, and became a 
 citizen of Groningen. On purchasing 
 large estates in that province, the States- 
 General gave him the rank of Baron ; 
 and soon after he married the only daugh- 
 ter of the late Prince Casimir, of Nassau. 
 Her brave father had been killed in bat- 
 tle against the Spaniards ; and the proud 
 and resentful Ripperda, therefore, gave 
 his hand to her with particular compla- 
 cency. A son was the fruit of this mar- 
 riage, who its happy mother named after 
 her uncle and cousin, both so famous for 
 their patriotic virtues ; one, the then ex- 
 isting Stadtholder of the Netherlands; 
 the other, winning by his valiant deeds 
 the future distinction of being King of 
 England. Never having any more chil- 
 dren, the illustrious parents lavished every 
 species of care upon this ; and with a 
 pride, which all the adopted republica- 
 nism of the father could not subdue, they
 
 THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 177 
 
 saw him grow up with the proofs of his 
 noble ancestry manifested in his spirit; 
 courteous, brave, and ambitious. While 
 he was yet a youth, he fought for Hol- 
 land and for England, under the standard 
 of his kinsman the great King William ; 
 and particularly distinguished his name 
 at the celebrated sie^e of Namur. But 
 the elder Ripperda did not long enjoy 
 his son's fame. He died before the 
 young hero returned to Groningen. His 
 mother, who inherited the intellectual 
 ambition of her princely house, exerted 
 all her persuasions to turn the passion 
 of her son from military glory to politi- 
 cal honours. She effected her purpose ; 
 for nature seconded her views. The 
 young Baron was born to be a statesman. 
 There was an extraordinary intuitive in- 
 telligence in his mind, that seemed to 
 require no more than to turn towards a 
 subject, to comprehend it ; all its bear- 
 ings became present to him ; and the 
 energy of action followed the moment 
 1 5
 
 17B THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 in which its utility was perceived. He 
 early became the confident of statesmen y 
 and as every element takes its level, soon 
 found his proper sphere, as their adviser ;. 
 the suggester, and impelling agent of 
 their boldest plans. In fact, he was the 
 spirit of their council, without appearing 
 in its body ; for he professed the reHgioa 
 of his father, which was Roman Catholic, 
 His mother's church was that of her 
 coimtry. And the bigotry of her de- 
 ceased husband not having been imbibed 
 py her son, she found no difficulty in con- 
 verting him to the simplicity of the Hol- 
 landers' faith. The only obstacle being 
 thus removed, the next assembly of the 
 States General saw him seated amongst 
 them as representative of the province 
 of Groningen. His civic honours were 
 quickly succeeded by his mother's death* 
 Two years after that event, he married 
 the beautiful daughter of Sir Hedworth 
 Athelstone. But his lot was not to be 
 found in a domestic circle. His young
 
 THE PASTOR^S FIRE^SIDE. 179 
 
 baroness died in the first year of his nup- 
 tials ; and he relinquished his only child 
 to the prayers of its maternal grand- 
 father. 
 
 Thus, separated from every object that 
 might have had a near claim upon his 
 heart, Ripperda gave up his soul to the 
 commonwealth. He travelled through- 
 out Europe, to study the characters and 
 politics of its rulers, in the seats of their 
 governments ; and he returned with an 
 extent of information which rendered his 
 judgement on general policy, almost om- 
 niscient. His influence too, was not les^ 
 far-reaching ; for he never forgot the 
 gracious courtesies of life, in the stern 
 pursuits of the statesman. — In him was 
 mingled a strange, but imposing union 5 
 the republican iiidependence of a citizen 
 of Holland, with the chivalric gallantry 
 and feudal grandeur which distinguish 
 the grandee of Spain. — His house was 
 a palace ; his retinue superb j and his 
 table open every day to the first men ijv- 
 1 6
 
 180 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 the States, and to all noble strangers who 
 visited the country. His thoughts, his 
 time, his fortune, all were dedicated to 
 the Republic : — but he would bestow 
 that all according to his own humour. 
 Not by a covert, silent, channel ; but 
 openly, bounteously, magnificently ; as 
 he thought became him who made the 
 dedication, and the great people by which 
 it was accepted. With this profusion, 
 he was no prodigal. His estates in 
 Groningen and the adjacent provinces, 
 were immense ; but they were not his 
 only means. . His expansive genius had 
 grasped the various resources of com- 
 merce ; and the treasures which poured 
 into him from every point of the com- 
 pass, rendered his expenditure exhaust- 
 less. Thus absorbed in a wide-spreading 
 vortex of public duties, which seemed 
 by each successive movement to separate 
 liis thoughts still farther from domestic 
 recollections, it is not surprising that he 
 almost ceased to remember he was a
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 181 
 
 father. Indeed the image of his absent son 
 never presented itself, but when occasi- 
 onal letters arrived from Mr. Athelstone ; 
 and then the thought once or twice 
 occurred to him to have Louis to Hol- 
 land. The next public dispatch dissi- 
 pated the idea ; and it never crossed 
 him again, till some other letter recalled 
 the wish — to be as speedily forgotten. 
 Meanwhile, the great events of Europe 
 were operating an unlooked for change 
 in the destiny of Baron de Ripperda. 
 
 When Louis the Fourteenth of France 
 died, his descendant Philip the Fifth of 
 Spain, felt himself released from a yoke 
 in which there had been more of the 
 despot than of the parent. — And, in 
 consequence of certain political changes 
 which he immediately proposed, the 
 States-General found it necessary to con- 
 fide their affairs at his court to some man 
 of diplomatic genius, capable of coping 
 with the mysterious policy of Alberoni, 
 and the variety of talent possessed by the
 
 182 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 foreign ministers assembled at Madrid^ 
 Their universal suffrage named the Baron 
 de Ripperda, and without demur he un- 
 dertook the embassy. 
 
 During a long and complicated nego- 
 ciation at Madrid, he became the object 
 of general interest and curiosity. His 
 fine person, and exquisitely polished 
 manners, were themes of amazement and 
 admiration with the Queen and her ladies. 
 Such graces of mien, and eloquence of 
 discourse, could hardly be native or ac- 
 quired by a Hollander ! — But w^hen it 
 ^vas understood that his father, and all 
 his paternal ancestors were Spaniards, 
 the enthusiasm of the Queen was excited 
 to re-unite so much talent to the service 
 of his original country. His favour with 
 the royal Isabella was no trifling ob- 
 ject of observation with the foreign mini- 
 sters. But the jealousy which his acute 
 penetration, and alert turns in diplomacy 
 might have kept on the alarm, was be- 
 guiled of its vigilance by the suavity of
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 1S3 
 
 his manners, and his talent of winning 
 their confidence, while he gained his 
 object. He knew how to wear his 
 triumphs with discretion ; for, content 
 with victory, he never displayed its en- 
 signs. Thus, he noiselessly pursued his 
 diplomatic advantages, and had subdued 
 the whole field, before his adversary even 
 perceived his banner on the ground. — 
 The object of his mission being ob- 
 tained, he returned to Holland* The 
 States-General received him with public 
 testimonies of satisfaction : — but he 
 found his former sway in their councils 
 traversed by a number of new represen- 
 tatives, impatient of dictation, and jea- 
 lous of his former supremacy in the state* 
 Though he had brought in his hand a 
 treaty, that proved his unswerving fide- 
 lity to Holland, these tuibulent men 
 affected to suspect he might hereafter be 
 too well inclined to favour a country 
 which had just invited him, with every 
 maternal persuasion, to return to her
 
 184 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 bosom. Despising the juvenile dema- 
 gogues who presumed to insinuate sus- 
 picions against his public faith ; and in- 
 dignant at the timidity of his colleagues, 
 in suffering the utterance of such slan- 
 derous insults ; he boldly declared, that 
 the ingratitude of the States-General 
 now determined him to re-unite himself 
 to the land of his fathers. — ** But," 
 said .he, ** the unchecked obloquy of 
 these novices, shall not provoke me to 
 forget, when returned to my mother 
 country, that Holland, until this dis- 
 graceful moment, was my affectionate 
 nurse !" 
 
 Whilst disposing of his estates in 
 Groningen, and turning the tide of his 
 commercial affairs to the coasts of Spain, 
 new revolutions were taking place in the 
 political theatre of his future action. — 
 Alberoni was dismissed the kingdom, in 
 consequence of a trifling accident, which 
 h^d the momentous effect of discovering 
 all his long concerted plans to the eyes 
 11
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE, 185 
 
 of alarmed Europe. A scherae was de- 
 veloped to agrandize Spain at the ex- 
 pence of all other nations ; and had not 
 Philip sacrificed his too-daring minister 
 to the indignation of the monarchs, he 
 would have felt their resentment on every 
 side of his kingdom. The cabinet of 
 Madrid was in tumults ; and the King 
 and Queen, doubting, to what hand they 
 could safely commit the helm in so dan- 
 gerous a storm. At this juncture, Rip- 
 perda returned ; and was received with 
 open arms. Besides his acquaintance 
 with foreign courts, his eminent situa- 
 tion, some years before, at the congress 
 of Utrecht, by bringing him into diplo- 
 matic contact with the most efficient 
 statesmen of the different nations, had 
 informed him so thoroughly of their in- 
 dividual characters, and general views 
 for their respective countries, that he 
 found no difficulty in presenting his now 
 acknowledged sovereigns, with a chart 
 by which they might navigate the ves-
 
 186 THE PASTOR^S FIRE^SIDE. 
 
 sel of the State out of the perilous track 
 into which the adventurous Alberoni had 
 plunged her. 
 
 All this was transacted in the private 
 boudoir of Her Majesty. To the incon- 
 siderate part of the world, Ripperda ap- 
 peared to have strangely resigned him- 
 self to a life of mere amusement ; for to 
 the inconsiderate, all is what it seems. 
 His fine person was excuse enough to 
 them, for the high favour in which he 
 stood with the Queen ; for though no lip 
 of slander had ever moved against her 
 honour; all knew, that like the royal 
 Elizabeth of England, she was fond of 
 the attentions of handsome and accom- 
 plished men. 
 
 Ripperda purchased a villa near Se- 
 govia, and a superb mansion at Madrid. 
 His household establishment and equi- 
 pages were not less magnificent, than 
 when he was one of the fiwrchant princes 
 of Holland ; and his table, in like man- 
 ner was surrounded by the best company
 
 THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 187 
 
 of Spain. The gayer part believed that 
 his evening attendance at the Buen 
 RetirowsiS to play picquet with the Queen^ 
 or chess with His Majesty j but the graver 
 sort were fully aware that, whoever were 
 the ostensible ministers of PhiHp, Rip- 
 perda was the one in fact. They could 
 trace to his suggestion, and covert exe- 
 cution, various changes in the constitu- 
 tion, to consolidate its power and aug- 
 ment its resources. Plans of commerce 
 were devised and put into practice ; and 
 manufactures introduced at Segovia and 
 Gaudalaxara, which threatened the staple 
 trade of Great Britain. Considering the 
 immediate instruments of national great- 
 ness to be wealth, and the power of de- 
 fending it ; he formed a design for ren- 
 dering Cadiz one of the noblest ports in 
 the world ; and to establish around the 
 coast, docks and arsenals, and every other 
 means of constructing a formidable navy* 
 This was the internal poHcy of Spain, 
 ^nder the secret influence of the Baron
 
 188 THE PASTOK'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 de Ripperda. With Alberoni's dismis- 
 sion, its external measures also took a new 
 aspect ; and with regard to the disputed 
 accession in England, seemed meditating 
 a change. A few years ago Philip had 
 assisted the chevalier Saint George in his 
 descent on Scotland ; but he now re- 
 sisted all applications to the same effect ; 
 and openly professed a growing respect 
 for the house of Hanover. Notwithstand- 
 ing similar repulses from the French mi- 
 nister, the irrepressible hopes of James 
 Stuart were kept on the alert by repeated 
 assurances from his partizans in England ; 
 that a schism in the parliament had 
 aroused corresponding jealousies amongst 
 the people, which were daily expected 
 to break out into an insurrection, not 
 likely to be quelled by a king and an heir- 
 apparent avowedly hostile to each other. 
 " At so critical a juncture, as the ca- 
 binet of St. Germain's supposed this to 
 be;" observed the Pastor, ** it is not 
 surprising that Duke Wharton should
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 189 
 
 grasp at any means of averting the ab- 
 solute secession of Spain from his master's 
 cause. He is aware of the Baron de 
 Ripperda's power with King PhiHp : and 
 by seeking to involve the son in a pro- 
 ject for a second rebellion, he hopes to 
 engage the father's pride or his fears, in 
 the same adventure." 
 
 The mind of Louis was powerfully 
 excited during a discourse which em- 
 braced so many topics ; and all connected 
 with himself, by means of a father, who 
 he knew by fame only ; but such a fame 
 as filled his son with an admiration, only 
 to be equalled by the emulation which 
 broke at once over his heart. While lis- 
 tening to the enumeration of his father's 
 patriotic acts for Holland and for Spain ; 
 he contemned the airy pretensions of 
 every brilHant, but inferior aim to cele- 
 brity : all but substantial worthiness va- 
 nished before him, like the bursting of 
 light upon darkness. He had heard of 
 his father j but now he seemed to feel his
 
 190 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 presence : and he sat with his hands 
 clasped, absorbed in the immensity of 
 the subject. 
 
 Mr. Athelstone observed the workings 
 of his countenance ; the flashing bright- 
 ness of his complexion, as his thoughts 
 darted from Lindisfarne to Holland, and 
 from Holland to Spain. He had not 
 heard his uncle's last observation with re- 
 gard to WTiarton's views on his father 
 and himself. Mr. Athelstone understood 
 the abstraction of his mind. He was too 
 well read in the human character not to 
 guess what was passing there. He gazed 
 on him a few minutes in silence ; con- 
 templating with the anxiety of parental 
 affection what might be the issue of the 
 passion he saw was then conceived in 
 that ingenuous and ardent soul. 
 
 " But it must not be for treason !" 
 cried he to himself, and gently shaking 
 the arm of his nephew, he repeated his 
 last remark on the Duke. He perceived 
 by the start Louis gave, in recalhng his
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 191 
 
 diverged faculties, that he was now at- 
 tended to ; and for a while he pursued 
 the subject with other observations. At 
 the conclusion, [he added in a solemn 
 voice, " you know, my child, I require 
 no reply to this head of my discourse. 
 But I beseech you, weigh well the true 
 nature of things before you act. In no 
 case allow imagination to mislead you. 
 To be on the suffering side of a contest, 
 is generally sufficient, in the judgment of 
 generous youth, to make it the just one. 
 And it is a beneficent disposition of 
 nature, to prompt man to the immediate 
 succour of distress. Oh, that our judges 
 would consider this, in causes of rebel- 
 lion, before they condemn the young en- 
 thusiast, who would as readily raise his 
 arm for exiled Brunswick, as for banished 
 Stuart! It is the circumstance that 
 draws the sword of unreflecting youth ; 
 thought and principle unsheath that of 
 age y and their trial and sentence should 
 be accordingly. But let not such re-
 
 19^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDB. 
 
 flections be your apology, Louis! An- 
 other time I will give you the experience 
 of my seventy years, by a full explanation 
 of why England changed the nature of 
 her ruler ; and then if you err," added 
 he with a melancholy smile, " it will be 
 against knowledge, and not even my par- 
 tial indulgence can excuse you." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, and pressing the 
 hand on which his nephew was thought- 
 fully leaning his head, the worthy Pastor 
 left him to meditate on what had passed.
 
 ( 193 ) 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Mrs. Coniiigsby found the Marquis and 
 his son seated amongst some pine-clad 
 rocks on the southern side of the Parson- 
 age. She made an apology for the length 
 of her absence, and the continuation of 
 Mr. Athelstone's, by relating to his Lord- 
 ship much of what her nephew had com- 
 municated. 
 
 Meanwhile, Cornelia and her sister had 
 joined Ferdinand, and sat with him in a 
 recess of the cliff which fronted the sea. 
 Its genial airs, warm from the south, sug- 
 gested the more balmy ones of Italy and 
 Spain, to the imagination of Alice, and 
 she soon saw all vestiges of gloom pass 
 from the brow of the young Spaniard, as 
 with encreasing animation he answered 
 her various questions on the subject of his 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 travels and of his country. Cornelia en- 
 quired about the remains of ancient 
 Rome, the eruptions of Vesuvius, and 
 who, amongst the celebrated living cha- 
 racters of Italy and France, he personally 
 knew. Alice paid little attention to his 
 replies on these subjects, but made him 
 describe the gardens of Naples, and the 
 luxuriant landscapes which double their 
 beauties in the translucent waters of its 
 bay. She then talked of the orange 
 groves of his own country ; and asked 
 whether it were true the Spanish ladies 
 reposed evey day after dinner by the sides 
 of fountains, under the shade of these 
 delicious arbours. He listened to her 
 questions with delight. It was the in- 
 genuous curiosity of fifteen, seeking in- 
 formation with the confidence of inno- 
 cence ; and he answered her with a 
 minuteness, that shewed his pleasure in 
 dwelling on themes congenial to her 
 taste. 
 
 Cornelia perceived that the share she
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 195 
 
 wished to take in the discourse, was al- 
 most wholly disregarded ; but pleased to 
 see their guest restored to good humour, 
 and Alice interested in such improving 
 conversation ; she cheerfully moved to- 
 wards her mother and the Marquis, and 
 soon became wholly absorbed in their 
 discussions. 
 
 The dinner-hour of the Parsonage once 
 more assembled its family and guests 
 around the social board. Peace had re- 
 sumed her sway in every breast. The 
 voice of unconscious tenderness had 
 soothed the jealous irritability of Ferdi- 
 nand, and his :5miles diffused a com- 
 placency over the seriousness of his 
 father, that harmonized with the bene- 
 ficent serenity of their host. Mrs. Con- 
 ingsby discoursed with the energy of an 
 imagination whose first fires still glowed 
 in their embers. The equable Cornelia 
 looked around with satisfaction on the 
 general cheerfulness, while Alice, what- 
 ever might be her volatile changes of 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 place, always found herself settle by the 
 side of the entertaining Spaniard. Gay 
 as joy itself, and vibrating in every nerve 
 the happiness she bestowed, she sported, 
 like the young halcyon on waves of sun- 
 shine. 
 
 Louis was not less animated. His 
 heart no longer upbraided him ; and in 
 his own element of blameless enjoyment, 
 with unchecked delight his eyes followed 
 the movements of Alice, as Ferdinand in- 
 structed her emulous curiosity in the 
 native dances of his country. The young 
 Spaniard seemed to have passed through 
 the cave of Trophonius, so completely 
 was he transformed from the reserved^ 
 frigid being of the morning. His late 
 sallow complexion now flashed with the 
 tints of health, and the vivacity of his 
 conversation almost obliterated from 
 Cornelia's remembrance the moody 
 wretch who had rushed from her pre- 
 sence only a few hours before. Alice 
 hovered round him, like one of the
 
 THE PAS'1T)RS FIRE-SIDE. 197 
 
 zephyrs which fanned their evening fes- 
 tivity; and at her desire he took her 
 mother's lute, and played and sung to it 
 several Spanish ditties. He reclined on 
 a low sofa, beneath the open ivied-win- 
 dow, through whose Gothic interlacing 
 the breeze entered, with the soft light of 
 the stars. The tender melancholy of the 
 airs shed a similar influence on the spirits 
 of the youthful party; and while they 
 listened with pensive deliglit to the last 
 stanza of a plaintive seguedilla, the church 
 clock struck twelve. 
 
 From the distant quarter of the room 
 where Mrs. Coningsby sat with her uncle 
 and the Marquis, she had observed the 
 amusements on the opposite side. On 
 hearing the hour strike, she rose from her 
 chair, and telling the young people, it 
 was not merely the witching time of nighty 
 but that the sabbath morning was begun ; 
 she broke up their revels, and dismissed 
 them to their pillows. 
 
 Corneha alone found uninterrupted 
 K 3
 
 198 THE PASTOR^S FIRE^SIDE, 
 
 slumber ; Ferdinand did not sleep that 
 night ; Alice wondered why she did not 
 close her eyes ; and Louis lay meditating 
 on the last fbur-and-twentv hours, till 
 day dawned, and wearied nature sank 
 into repose. 
 
 The morning brought liim a letter 
 before he had quitted his bed. Its seaV 
 was Wharton's manche and ducal coronet. 
 Louis held it some time unopened in his 
 hand. What new contention might it 
 demand of him ? Was it to upbraid him 
 for, his flight? or was it an apology from 
 the Duke for his attempt to detain him ? 
 Whatever were its errand, the sight of the 
 letter recalled to him all the fascinations 
 of its writer ; and with trepidation he 
 broke the seal. His heart clung to every 
 line, while that of the volatile writer 
 seemed winged, and lightly skimming 
 the surface he professed to dwell on. 
 The latter ran thus, 
 
 " Et tu B7-ute ! was a mighty dextrous 
 Parthian bolt, but it whistled away, 1
 
 THE PASTOR^S HRE-SIDE. 199 
 
 know not whither. Would Caesar have 
 been so bad a marksman, as not to have 
 distinguished his own Anthony from the 
 wretcli who played the brute part in the 
 capitol ? Why, de ^Montemar you are as 
 much hke the lantern-jawed Cassius, as 
 I to that nose-l^d Stoic 1 You ai'e too 
 profound in canonization not to have 
 read of a certain saint, no matter his 
 name, who, with a pair of convenient 
 red-hot pincers, clutclied the devil by his 
 feature of Iionour, and so dragged him 
 roaring round the world. Cassius was 
 no saint, whatever he might be of a con- 
 juror ; but I never hear your king-killing 
 demagogues vaunting of their prince of 
 patriots, without seeing the pincers at his 
 nose. So, prithee, my dainty Caesar, no 
 more misnomers if you would not have 
 me requite you in kind ! 
 
 " And so, you even took the flood! 
 
 I would not for happier hours, than even 
 
 those your stubbornness wrested from me^ 
 
 1 would not have lost that proof of your 
 
 K 4
 
 200 THE PASTOR'S I IRB-SIDE. 
 
 substance. You know I am ^ being of 
 vapour! People who say so, must not 
 wonder that I should be glad to play the 
 atmosphere round something worth my 
 while. Louis! had you not believed 
 them, would you have fled me like a pes- 
 
 ** Being of a gentle nature, as full of 
 ruth as perhaps I ought to be of rueful- 
 ness, I will not bristle the grey locks of 
 your venerable uncle this Saturday night, 
 by likening him to any old woman on 
 earth or in heaven. But I have a shrewd 
 guess, that like the good lady Calphurnia, 
 he pretends to dream ; and on the evi- 
 dence of such whimsies will report you 
 my orisons! 
 
 . Pulchra Laverna, 
 
 Da mihi fallere, da justum sanctumque videri. 
 
 — Oh, wizards, how little do you know 
 the mettle of Philip Wharton! — In the 
 face of day, and of these darkling augurs, 
 I avow that it is my object to make 
 you my own ! My true spirit, wearied
 
 Tim PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 201 
 
 with the tricks of men, and their sordid 
 
 chemistry, 
 
 Delights to quafFthe yet iintasted spring, 
 And pluck the virgin flower ! 
 
 " Is there a cloak over this dagger, my 
 panic-struck Caesar? 
 
 " However, that there may be no more 
 alarms in Saint Cuthbert's sanctuary, tell 
 the holy man I have met Romulus's fate. 
 If you look for me to-night it must be 
 amongst the stars ; for, after this is dis- 
 patched, neither Bamborough nor Eng- 
 land, will hold your faithful. 
 
 ** Bamborough Castle, Saturday night." 
 
 " Gone !** cried Louis, pressing the 
 
 letter between his folded hands, " neither 
 
 Bamborough nor England now holds its 
 
 noble writer!'* He turned towards the 
 
 window, which commanded a view of the 
 
 sea. The distant weaves were sparkling 
 
 beneath the beams of the morning sun : 
 
 " beyond those he is sailing away, far 
 
 from dark suspicion, and ungrateful de 
 
 Montemar. — Ah, if he, indeed, knew 
 K 6
 
 202 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 I had so readily imbibed my uncle*s belief, 
 that he is deceitful, and seeking to betray 
 me in the dearest interests of man! — 
 would he thus subscribe himself my 
 Faithful? — Does he not, by that single 
 word, avow his trust in my honour, and 
 his own disinterested attachment to me ^" 
 
 Again he read the letter ; it contained 
 nothing which he might not shew to 
 Mr. Athelstone. There was not a word 
 in it, excepting the declaration of reci- 
 procal fidelity in that of the signature, 
 which implied a confidence ; or even 
 hinted at the preservation of his secret ; 
 ^nd this implicit trust still more affected 
 J^ouis. — ** Noble Wharton !" cried he, 
 " this is Alexander drinking the sus- 
 pected bowl ! — and you shall find that 
 I am faithful/' 
 
 He sprang out of bed, and hastily 
 dressed himself. But just as he was hur- 
 rying out of the door with the letter in 
 his hand, he paused. — ** Why should I 
 be thus eager to put myself into purga-
 
 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 203 
 
 tory?*' — He returned into the room. — 
 " My dear, good, but precise uncle,'* 
 continued he, ** cannot understand this 
 man ! He will find an argument to blame 
 all that I admire in this open, daring 
 spirit. But at least, he must acknowledge 
 that here he is no hypocritical designer ! 
 I will shew it to him," 
 
 Louis continued to fluctuate amidst a 
 variety of reflections and resolutions, till 
 the bell for family morning prayers roused 
 him from his indecisive meditations ; and 
 putting the letter in his breast, he de- 
 scended to the library. 
 
 When the duty was done, and he arose 
 from his knees, he found the young Spa- 
 niard by his side ; and rising from the 
 same posture, which he had taken be- 
 tween him and Alice. Louis looked sur- 
 prised: Ferdinand smiled; and without 
 waiting to be questioned, said, that the 
 preceding night he had enquired of^Miss 
 Coningsby what was meant by the vesper 
 and matin bell, which rang after he and 
 K 6
 
 204 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 his father had withdrawn to rest, and 
 before they appeared in the morning. 
 She was so good as explain it to him ; 
 and he had thus taken the liberty to join 
 the family devotion. While the do- 
 mestics were making their reverential 
 bows to the Pastor as they retired, Mrs. 
 Coningsby observed her young guest. 
 She expressed her pleasure at meeting 
 him in so sacred an hour ; ** but you 
 are not of the church of Calvin or of 
 Luther?" asked she. 
 
 *« No," replied he, " but I am of the 
 church of their master. And that, I 
 trust, does not exclude me from yours !" 
 
 '* That plea will open the gates of 
 Heaven to you !" cried the Pastor with 
 a benign smile, as he passed from the 
 reading-desk into the breakfast-room. 
 
 It was some time before the Marquis 
 came from his chamber 5 but when he 
 did j^in the morning group, being igno- 
 rant of his son having mingled in what 
 he would have deemed an heretical rite.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 205 
 
 he contemplated that son's renovated ap- 
 pearance with comfort unalloyed. He 
 could not account to himself how such 
 a change from weakness to activity ; 
 from despairing melancholy to gay cheer- 
 fulness ; could have been wrought in the 
 short space of two days ; unless he might 
 attribute it to the influence of the Saint, 
 before whose defaced shrine he had knelt 
 the preceding day, when he wandered 
 alone to the solitary abbey. While he 
 sat absorbed in these thoughts, Mrs. Co- 
 ningsby mentioned to the younger part 
 of the circle what had been discussed the 
 evening before between herself and Mr. 
 Athelstone. 
 
 As the season approached when she 
 and her family usually emigrated to 
 Morewick-hall, she now proposed going 
 earlier; and that the Marquis and his 
 son, accompanied by her nephew, should 
 make a tour with herself and her dau^h- 
 ters to the interesting scenery in the 
 neighbourhood. ♦< You will find the Hall
 
 206 THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 more befitting your reception than tliiJ: 
 lonely rock," continued she, addressing 
 the Marquis ; " but Lindisfarne is my 
 uncle's Patmos ; and when here, he loves 
 to live like a hermit in his cell." 
 
 " Rather," returned Ferdinand, with 
 an answering smile : ** like the privileged 
 saint, emparadised with angels !" 
 
 Louis guessed that one view in this 
 scheme, w as to take him out of the way 
 of the Duke ; and with something be- 
 tween a sigh and a smile, in thinking the 
 precaution was no longer necessary ; he 
 warmly seconded his aunt's proposal. 
 The eyes of Alice and of Ferdinand 
 met in pleased sympathy. And Cor- 
 nelia, addressing the Marquis, soon 
 awakened an interest in him, he did not 
 expect to find in the projected excursion. 
 She talked to him of Alnwick, of its chi- 
 valrous trophies ; and of the stone chair 
 of Hotspur, which still overlooks its bat- 
 tlements. She then passed to the Castle 
 of Warkworth : and spoke of the ancho-
 
 THE TASTOK S FIRE-SIDE. 207 
 
 rite's chapel, dug in the heart of its rock. 
 As she discoursed of the hero of Hali- 
 down ; and narrated the sorrows of his 
 friend, the devout penitent of the her- 
 mitage, her share of the Percy blood 
 glowed on her cheek and in her language: 
 and the Marquis, aroused to all his mi- 
 litary and religious enthusiasm, often 
 grasped the cross of his sword, and min- 
 gled a prayer -with the aspirations of a 
 soldier. 
 
 Meanwhile Alice enumerated to Fer- 
 dinand, the charming variety of their 
 walks at Morewick ; particularly along 
 the meandring banks of the Coquet, and 
 in view of the very hermitage Cornelia 
 was describing to his father. Ferdinand 
 accepted with delight her promise of con- 
 ducting him to the cell by her own fa- 
 vourite path ; over a little rustic bridge 
 that joined the Morewick-grounds to an 
 old romantic mill, which stood on an 
 island embowered in trees, and dashed 
 the foaming waters of its wheels through
 
 g08 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 the pendant branches which swept the 
 surface of the water. A boat, paddled 
 by the miller's son, would convey them, 
 under as deep a shade, to the opposite 
 shore ; and then, by a winding walk, 
 traced in the w^ild wooded scenery by 
 the hand of the hermit himself, she would 
 lead him over the rocky heights to the 
 cell ; where for sixty years the mourning 
 lover of murdered beauty had fed upon 
 his tears day and night ! " I know the 
 pleasure with which Louis will accom- 
 pany us ;" added she, " and if it be 
 moon-light he will like it better, for he 
 often tells me, the garish hour of sun- 
 shine is no time for visiting the hermitage 
 of Warkworth." 
 
 Louis did not hear what was passing, 
 for he had chosen the opportunity of his 
 uncle's guests being engaged in conver- 
 sation with his cousins, to inform Mr. 
 Athelstone that Duke Wharton had left 
 Bamborough. When the good old man 
 had read the Duke's letter, he pressed
 
 THE PASTOR S FIIIE-SIDE. 209 
 
 his nephew's hand as he returned it, and 
 said with a playful smile, ** It is well, 
 and we will not grudge him his apo- 
 theosis !" 
 
 The remainder of the sabbath passed 
 in the Pastor's family, as became the 
 purity of its master's fliith, and the sim- 
 plicity of his manners. At the usual 
 hours for the public celebration of divine 
 worship, he and his little household, all 
 excepting his Roman Catholic guests, 
 repaired to the parish church. 
 
 Towards the close of the afternoon 
 service, (while the Marquis had again ab- 
 sented himself, and was retired to the 
 interior ruins of the abbey;) Ferdinand 
 placed himself at the window of his bed- 
 chamber, which commanded a view of 
 the church-path, to watch the re-appear- 
 ance of the only saint which now en- 
 gaged his idolatry. With what pleasure- 
 able curiosity, excited by his sentiments 
 for Alice, which gave him an interest in 
 ill that concerned her, did he see the
 
 210 THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. 
 
 massy oaken doors unfold from under 
 the low Saxon arch, and the island train 
 issue forth in their clean but coarse Sunday- 
 attire ! Four generations in one faniii}-, 
 first met his eye. A hale old fisherman, 
 with grizzled locks and a ruddy though 
 weather-ploughed cheek, supported on 
 his sinewy arm the decent steps of his 
 dame ; who, dressed in a camlet gown of 
 her own spinning and a linen apron and 
 cap of spotless white, looked smilingly 
 behind on the group tliat closely fol- 
 lowed: — Her athletic son, and his comely 
 wife J each restraining the capering steps 
 of a chubby boy and girl, as they led 
 them forth from the house of God. The 
 aged patriarch of the race, his head 
 whitened by the winters of nearly a cen- 
 tury, closed the procession ; leaning one 
 hand on a staff, and the other on the 
 arm of his youngest grandchild ; a pretty 
 young woman, whose down-cast eyes 
 shewed how cautiously she was guiding 
 the faultering steps of her venerable
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 211 
 
 grand sire. — Of such simple and sincere 
 worshippers was the congregation of 
 Lindisfarne ; and as Ferdinand observed 
 their composed and happy countenances, 
 he felt that their 's must be the religion 
 of peace. 
 
 " Yes ;" cried he, ** where innocence 
 dwells, there must be genuine piety. 
 Nothing is there to impede the free com- 
 munion betw^een earth and heaven. The 
 blameless spirit does not fear to lift up 
 its eyes in the presence of its Creator : 
 it is still clothed in the brightness of His 
 beams. But the guilty wretch — pol- 
 luted — bereft ! — Oh, what can hide his 
 nakedness from the Omniscient eve ? — 
 Not the unction of man. — I have had 
 enough of that. — What breath of mor- 
 tal absolution can still this raging fire !'* 
 He smote his breast as he spoke, and tore 
 himself from the window. 
 
 Mrs. Coningsby and her daughters had 
 prepared tea in the drawing-room a long 
 iiiue before the different members of her
 
 SI 2 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 little circle drew their chairs around it. 
 The Pastor was paying his custoniarv 
 sabbath visitations to the infirm from 
 age, sickness, or sorrow. Ferdinand was 
 yet in his chamber ; struggling with an 
 agony of soul, more grievous than pen- 
 ance tnat priest ever inflicted. And 
 Louis, having accompanied his uncle to 
 the door of one of the fisher's huts, in- 
 stead of returning home, walked on un- 
 consciously, till he found himself in the 
 cemetery of the old monastery, and sav; 
 the Marquis approaching him from the 
 western aisle. 
 
 Supposing his Lordship had come there, 
 merely as an admirer of antiquity, Louis 
 did not hesitate to join him ; and enter- 
 ing into conversation on this idea, he 
 began to point out the most perfect spe- 
 cimens of its ancient architecture ; and 
 to name the periods of British history 
 which they commemorated, as the times 
 of the abbey's erection, enlargement, or 
 repairing. As he w^as master of his sub-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 213 
 
 ject ; and spoke of its early founders, 
 Oswald and Aidan, with not merely- 
 historical accuracy, but reverence for 
 their holy zeal ; Santa Cruz pressed the 
 hand of his young companion ; and at- 
 tended with questioning complacency, 
 till he almost forgot he was not listen- 
 ing to a good Catholic. He could not 
 comprehend how a disciple of heresy, 
 could have more toleration for the pro- 
 fessors of the Roman creed, than he had 
 for heretical infidelity ; and therefore, 
 with a hope that the Catholic Faith, 
 which Baron de Ripperda had abjured, 
 was latent in his son, the Marquis wil- 
 lingly gave w^ay to the predilection he 
 had conceived for him ; and strolled witlv 
 him over the whole ruin. After having 
 been ascertained of the place where 
 rested the mortal part of tlie exemplary 
 Saint Aidan ; he again bowed to the 
 vacant spot, at the right side of the high 
 altar, w^hich had once contained the stone 
 shrine of the holy Cuthbert. — Louis
 
 214 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 conducted him to a cell, now choaked 
 with docks and nettles, which had once 
 been the penitentiary of a King. Near 
 this half-buried vault, lay several flat 
 crosiered tomb-stones of different dates ; 
 and amongst them were two mitred bro- 
 thers of the Barons of Athelstone and 
 of Bamborough. 
 
 " You are nobly descended, Mr. de 
 Montemar!" observed the Marquis ; <* By 
 your mother's side from these po\verful 
 Northumbrian Barons. — By your father's, 
 from the princely house of Nassau, and 
 the more illustrious Ripperda of Anda- 
 lusia. These were all faithful sons of the 
 cross! — but now that their posterity have 
 embraced the schisms of infidelity — oh, 
 my ingenuous young friend, are you not 
 at this moment ready to exclaim, Hoxv 
 am I fallen /" 
 
 " No, my Lord," returned Louis, ** I 
 have too British a spirit, to regret the 
 feudal power which was founded on the 
 vassalage of my fellow-creatures, — and
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 215 
 
 thougli my father may have forfeited all 
 claim to the restitution of his paternal 
 rights in Spain, by having become a pro* 
 selyte to the religion in which I have 
 been educated ; I cannot deem any de« 
 pression of rank a debasement, which is 
 incurred in so sacred a cause." 
 
 Santa Cruz drew his arm from his 
 companion. Such adherence to principle, 
 had it been on his side of the argument, 
 would have filled the Marquis with admi- 
 ration ; but in the present case, it gave 
 his growling partiality for the son of 
 Ripperda, so severe a shock, that he 
 sunk into stern silence and turned out 
 of the abbey. Not a word was spoken 
 during their walk homeward. And when 
 they entered the Parsonage, the Mar* 
 quis bowed coldly to the Pastor ; while, 
 with a similar air of reserve, he ac- 
 cepted the seat presented to him by the 
 side of Mrs. Coiiingsby. 
 
 The whole party were now assembled ; 
 but an embarrassing gravity pervaded
 
 216 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 them all. None knew exactly how to 
 explain it ; but it arose, rather from the 
 several individuals thinking too intensely 
 of each other, than from indifference to 
 each other's society. Louis alone had 
 straying thoughts ; and they were wan- 
 dering far and w^ide : — sometimes with 
 his noble friend, throwing himself in 
 loyal gallantry at the feet of a de- 
 throned Queen and her Son. Then the 
 image of his father, and of Spain, would 
 occupy his mind. He seemed to be pre- 
 sent with him in that country ; where, 
 though denied the honours of his race, 
 the fame of his services proclaiiTfied that 
 he did more than possess them — he de- 
 served them ! — "I am not fallen ;" said 
 Louis to himself; ** when sprung from 
 such a father 1 What is there in mere 
 title or station, to render a man truly 
 great ? — It is action, that makes the post, 
 that of honour, or disgrace. — And, God 
 of my fathers ! give me but the oppor- 
 tunity to serve my country ; and no man
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^1? 
 
 shall say the name of Ripperda has suf- 
 fered degradation !*' 
 
 Louis started from his chair, in the ful- 
 ness of his emotion, and hastily crossed 
 the room. He chanced to take the <ii- 
 rection to a recess between the book-case 
 and the porcelain cabinet. 
 
 " You are right to remind Cornelia of 
 her duty/' cried the Pastor, " open the 
 door; and she \vill then jecollect, that 
 nearly an hour has elapsed since she 
 ought to have given us our Sunday's 
 evening anthem.'* 
 
 Louis immediately threw open a pair 
 of small folding-doors, and discovered an 
 organ, with the oratorios of Handel on 
 its music-stand. Cornelia did not require 
 a second reminder. — She took her seat 
 before the instrument ; and with tones 
 that might — 
 
 " Create a soul under the ribs of death," 
 sang the divine strains of " / know that 
 my Redeemer liveth.'' 
 
 As the pealing organ swelled the note 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 518 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 of praise, the Marquis almost imagined 
 himself in his own oratory ; and that he 
 heard the seraphic voice of his daughter 
 Marcella, chaunting her evening hymn to 
 the Virgin. Tears filled the father's eyes : 
 he drew near the instrument ; and cross- 
 ing his arms over his breast, with the 
 silent responses of the heart, he re-echoed 
 every word and every note of the holy 
 song. When Cornelia struck its last tri- 
 umphant chords, and was rising from her 
 seat, he entreated her to prolong strains 
 so well suited to the vesper-hour, and the 
 feelings with which he listened. 
 
 Mr. Athelstone joined in the request; 
 remarking, that as he loved a peculiar 
 consecration of the instruments of wor- 
 ship, he never permitted this organ to be 
 opened but on the seventh-day, or other 
 holy festivals ; and, that when it was 
 once touched by his Saint Cecilia, his 
 greatest pleasure was to hear its sounds, 
 till the hour of night closed them in 
 prayer.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 219 
 
 Cornelia re-commenced, with the over- 
 ture of the Messiah ; and the evening 
 ended in unison with the piety of her 
 uncle and his guest : in hymns to the 
 great Author of universal harmony. 
 
 L 2
 
 ( ^20 ) 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 The morning of the 1st of October, if 
 it were piercing as a flight of arrows, was 
 as dazzling too; for the' clearness of the 
 atmosphere gave an unusual splendour 
 to every object : and the larks that car- 
 rolled high in the heavens, seemed exr 
 ulting in the brilliancy of their course. 
 The exhilarating property of the air had 
 its effect upon the party from the Parson- 
 age ; who gaily stepped into the boat 
 that was to convey them to a creek on 
 the opposite shore, a little below Bam- 
 borough. To touch at the castle was 
 out of the question ; for no second flag 
 of amnesty had yet passed between the 
 angry baronet and his quietly expectant 
 nephew. 
 
 On landing, they found horses which
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^^1 
 
 the Pastor had sent forward at dawn ; and 
 mounting, in full confidence of the ani- 
 mals being accustomed to the rough roads 
 in prospect, the happy groupe commenced 
 the day's excursion. Nearly a week's 
 sojourn in the island had blunted most 
 of the Marquis's prejudices against the 
 amiable followers of Luther whom he 
 found there ; and the familiar companion- 
 ship of minds not essentially discordant, 
 had mingled them all into an intimacy 
 almost amounting to friendship. 
 
 They proceeded along the classic banks 
 of the Tweed, and the romantic borders 
 of the Till, to the distant towers of royal 
 Norham. Much food was there, for me- 
 mory and meditation. The friends wan- 
 dered for several hours amongst its legen- 
 dary ruins ; and then pursued the debate- 
 able stream to Flodden Field. They found 
 another train of thought on that sohtary 
 track. Two centuries before, it had 
 borne the bannered host of two brother 
 nations \ and now lay a desert, as if curst 
 L 3
 
 222 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 by the kindred blood then spilt upon if5 
 soil. 
 
 Having treated the Marquis ^vith a 
 rustic dinner at a farm-house in the pretty 
 village of Branxton, which stands a little 
 to the north of the memorable field, Mrs. 
 Coningsby and her highly-gratified party 
 re-embarked at the mouth of the Tweed. 
 Before them lay a magnificent setting 
 sun. As the little bark tracked its way 
 through a flood of molten gold, Ferdi- 
 nand leaned behind the bench that sup- 
 ported Alice, and in a soft under-tone 
 pursued the subjects which seemed most 
 congenial to her youthful taste. Cornelia 
 reclined near them, contemplating the 
 receding shore, but listening to the Mar- 
 quis ; who sat between Louis and her 
 mother, comparing with them the strange 
 coincidence in the fates of James the 
 Fourth of Scotland, Sebastian of Portugal, 
 and Roderick of Spain; all of whose 
 deaths were as doubtful, as their disap- 
 pearance was certain, in the fields of
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 223 
 
 battle where each lost his crown and ex- 
 istence to the world. 
 
 In these discourses time passed lightly, 
 till the breeze w afled them, under the 
 rising moon, into the sheltered cove of 
 Lindisfarne. 
 
 On entering the Parsonage, Mr. Athel- 
 stone presented a packet to the Mar- 
 quis ; and its contents put to flight all 
 their ready plans for future rambles* 
 It had been forwarded through Holland 
 by Baron Heinsius, and contained dis- 
 patches from Spain. They conveyed the 
 royal Philip's orders to the Marquis Santa 
 Cruz, to repair immediately to Madrid ; 
 where he was required to take his seat in 
 the council on an affair of importance. 
 
 Ferdinand turned pale at this intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 ** Oh, that your Lordship would take 
 me with you 1" exclaimed Louis, im- 
 petuously. Mr. Athelstone interrupted 
 him with a look. " Pardon me. Sir," 
 cried he, ** but my father, — am I never 
 to see my father?" 
 
 L 4
 
 ^24 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE 
 
 ** When he wishes to see you. But 
 you must not break upon his presence." 
 
 Louis said no more, but bowing to his 
 uncle, with his heart full, hurried out of 
 the room. The Marquis looked after 
 him in silence. 
 
 Ferdinand had turned his despairing 
 eyes on Alice, and saw her head bent on 
 her bosom, w4th tears trickling down her 
 cheeks. Those tears acted on his soul 
 like dew on the parched earth, and, uncon- 
 scious of the intention, he found himself 
 at her side ; he had taken her hand, he 
 had murmured some indistinct sounds in 
 her ear ; but they suffused her face with 
 blushes, and confused and agitated she 
 withdrew her hand, and glided out of 
 sight to a seat behind the window cur- 
 tain. Ferdinand followed her with his 
 eyes ; but while he exultingly felt that her 
 pure image possessed him wholly, he 
 shrunk from the recollection of how un- 
 worthy his transgressions had made him 
 of aspiring to the possession of so spotless
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE, 225 
 
 a being. Nay, were it possible that peni- 
 tence could so wash his stains away, as to 
 restore him to the self-respect which is 
 indispensible to the manly character, and 
 above all to the consciousness of him 
 who takes upon himself to be the pro- 
 tector and the happiness of a virtuous 
 woman ; was he not aware that even this 
 blessed regeneration could not avail him 
 here? He well knew that his father's 
 bigotry would sooner see him die than 
 allow him to perish, soul and body ; which 
 he would suppose must be the conse- 
 quence, should he permit him to marry a 
 daughter of the church of England. To 
 acknowledge his sentiments for Alice to 
 the Marquis, was only to call down his 
 malediction on their object. And, under 
 these circumstances, to reveal more of 
 them to herself, than his surprised heart 
 had already betrayed, seemed to him a 
 base sacrifice to his own immediate grati- 
 fication, at the expence of his honour and 
 her future comfort. He was not so iU- 
 L 5
 
 ^^6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 read in female character as to be ignorant 
 that he had made an impression on the 
 heart of this artless child of nature. No 
 one present appeared to suspect what 
 was passing in the bosoms of either. 
 Could he then, knowing that the bar was 
 insuperable between him and her, could 
 he act the double treachery of fastening 
 affections, that must be hopeless, upon 
 him; and make so ungrateful a return to the 
 hospitality of her uncle and her mother, 
 as to devote the youth of their beloved 
 child to tears and disappointment? *' No," 
 said he to himself, " I will not load my 
 already burdened soul with the guilt of 
 rendering her unhappy ; of having come 
 hither on a demon's errand, to lay waste 
 all that paradise of smiles! I deserve to 
 go hence, as I came, a lonely, unregretted 
 wretch." 
 
 While these thoughts were occupying 
 the mind of Ferdinand, the Marquis was 
 explaining to Mr. Athelstone that he 
 must abide by the letter of his sovereign's 
 
 5
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SmE. 527 
 
 commands; and not only relinquish the 
 pleasure he had anticipated in visiting 
 Morewick-hall, but take his leave even 
 of the island, the following day. Find- 
 ing this decision was not to be questioned, 
 Mrs. Coningsby withdrew to give some 
 necessary orders for her guest's early de- 
 parture; and Alice, taking the opportunity 
 of the opened door, hastily quitted the 
 room. Cornelia having expressed her 
 sincere regret to Ferdinand, that they 
 must lose his father and himself so soon, 
 in a few minutes followed her mother. 
 
 The gracious spell of tranquil enjoy- 
 ment which an hour before had encircled 
 them all, was now broken. Mrs. Con- 
 ingsby hurried from place to place in hos- 
 pitable bustle, ordering all kinds of travel- 
 ling comforts to be put up for the service 
 of their departing friends. The Marquis 
 and the Pastor sat till a late hour, con- 
 versing in the library ; but the young 
 people continued dispersed, rather as if 
 some cause of discord had fallen amongst 
 L 6
 
 ^28 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE. 
 
 theiiij than an order to separate hearts so 
 well inclined to join. Once Alice had 
 summoned courage to descend to the 
 drawing-room, but on entering, she saw 
 no one there but Ferdinand, who was 
 resting his head upon her harpsichord; 
 and hastily retreating, she did not come 
 down again till summoned to supper. 
 
 The ensuing morning's meal was passed, 
 like that of the preceding evening, by 
 the younger part of the group almost in 
 silence. But when breakfast was over 
 Louis drew a letter from his pocket, and 
 presenting it open to Mr. Athelstone, 
 told him he had written that to his father, 
 and he hoped the Marquis would have 
 the goodness to take charge of it to 
 Madrid. Santa Cruz bowed his acquies- 
 cence, and the Pastor perused the letter. 
 As he ran his eye over its contents, he 
 could not but admire the generous sub- 
 mission which had with-held the writer 
 from even hinting the wish which so 
 thoroughly possessed him.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 229 
 
 " You have written like an affectionate 
 son," said the Pastor, as he returned the 
 letter, " but you have not dropped one 
 word of what is so much at your heart. 
 Why do you not ask your father's per- 
 mission to pay your personal duty to 
 him ?" 
 
 '* And you give me yours, dearest Sir, 
 to express that wish ?" 
 
 " Certainly; and when the Baron's lei- 
 sure will allow him to preside over his 
 son's introduction to this perilous world, 
 then, I doubt not, he will grant your pe- 
 tition, and I must resign you." 
 
 Louis gladly retired, to add, as a post- 
 script to his letter, what he had found so 
 much difficulty in preventing himself 
 from making its primary subject. The 
 ladies had already withdrawn ; and Ferdi- 
 nand seeing their waiving gowns through 
 the distant shrubber}^ in the garden, be- 
 lieved that without any breach of his re- 
 solution, he might once more cool his 
 feverish pulse with the breeze at their
 
 ^30 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDB. 
 
 side ; and for the last time sooth his dis- 
 turbed soul by feeling himself near Alice, 
 and hstening to her tender accents. 
 
 The wish was no sooner formed than 
 he was in their path. Mrs. Coningsby 
 was not there. Cornelia was calmly 
 gathering flowers to replenish her beau- 
 pots, and Alice was walking pensively 
 towards the wicket that opened to the 
 hill. Ferdinand followed her, and with a 
 bound of joy he could not conceal from 
 his better reason, saw her open the little 
 gate and pass through. A few sheep 
 were cropping the grass on the pasture, 
 and her favorite lamb frolicked before 
 her. She did not notice it, but turned to 
 the base of the hill. Ferdinand heard 
 her draw a deep sigh, as she seemed to 
 think herself removed from observation, 
 and, in an agitated voice,' she ejaculated 
 his name. He required no more to be at 
 her side, — at her feet. What he said he 
 hardly knew, but he felt all his high re- 
 solves vanish, and that words failed
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^31 
 
 under the impetuous declaration of his 
 heart. Surprized at so unthought-of a 
 disclosure ; and alarmed at a language 
 and vehemence she had never known 
 before, Alice would have fled ; but he 
 detained her with her hands clasped in 
 his : and while he wept upon them in 
 the wild emotions of his soul, her tears 
 flowed also ; and he wrought her to con- 
 fess that she had retired alone, to weep 
 at his departure. 
 
 Ferdinand forgot all the wretched 
 past, in the transport of that moment; 
 and amidst the burning blushes of a timi- 
 dity that trembled at every word she 
 uttered, he drew from the guileless 
 Alice all the secret of her heart. His 
 dominant passion had again seized the 
 rein ; and clasping her hands to his breast, 
 he ardently implored her to pledge him 
 her faith before the Supreme of Heaven, 
 — That, however long might be his 
 absence, she would never be persuaded 
 to become the wife of any other man.
 
 ^32 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 Then growing in his demands on the 
 tender girl, he conjured her to promise 
 not to continue that " exquisite softness 
 of manner, to Mr. de Montemar, the 
 sight of which had already more than 
 hali' maddened him." — AVith a glance, 
 which shone like a shooting star over the 
 dewy night, she gave him the solemn 
 pledge he asked ; and she smiled, when 
 she made a promise she deemed so un- 
 necessary. But both engagements were 
 hardly pronounced by her ingenuous lips, 
 before his ungovernable selfishness smote 
 upon the conscience of her lover. 
 
 ** Alice," cried he, ** I am unworthy 
 of your angelic nature. I know I do 
 not deserve that you should even look 
 upon me. But I cannot bid you retract 
 your vow. It is that alone which saves 
 me from despair : — It is that alone 
 which can support me in life, till we 
 meet again. — Oh, Alice, you saw the 
 wretch that came to this island, at war 
 with himself, and sinking fast to an un-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE^SIDE. 233 
 
 liniely grave ! — You recalled me to ex- 
 istence ! — You re-generated, and healed 
 my broken heart ! — But my father, 
 should he know I love you, he would 
 separate us for ever." 
 
 Alice raised her eyes, dro^vned as they 
 were in tears, and looked on him aghast, 
 " Is his rank so very great ?" 
 
 " That is not my fear," returned Fer- 
 dinand, *' his rank is not higher than your 
 own illustrious blood. But he is so rigid 
 a Catholic ; I too well know he would 
 rather see his whole race extinct, than 
 one of them married to a Protestant." 
 
 Poor Alice w^as now seized with a 
 violent trembling, and turning deadly 
 pale, leaned for support against a tree. 
 Ferdinand pressed her cold hand. " But 
 I am no bigot, my beloved Alice ; and 
 there is a circumstance connected with 
 my family, which may have power to 
 influence a happier fate. It shall be 
 tried; and it is of such importance, I 
 hardly doubt its success."
 
 234 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 She revived at this assurance, and, 
 with deepened tenderness, he resumed. 
 
 <* Meanwhile, as we hope to be 
 blessed hereafter in an union as indisso- 
 luble as our love; forbear to disclose 
 what has now passed between us, to any 
 of your own family. They would com- 
 municate it to my father ; and the con- 
 sequence I seek to avert, must then in- 
 evitably follow : an eternal separation." 
 
 The arguments of love, and the plead- 
 ings of despair, at last prevailed upon 
 her to make this promise also. Her 
 head was in a whirl of distracting thought. 
 She had never known such distress as 
 overwhelmed her, when, in making this 
 second vow, she felt as if she had at once 
 relinquished her claims on the affection 
 of her nearest relations ; and saw the 
 being, for whose sake she had made this 
 boundless sacrifice, on the point of leav- 
 ing her for an unlimited time, perhaps 
 for ever ! 
 
 Ferdinand beheld the agony of her
 
 THE PASTOR'S FTRE-SIDE. 235 
 
 feoul, and too well guessed her apprehen- 
 sions. Now he felt the mischief he had 
 wrought; now he saw the ruin he had 
 begun in that so lately happy bosom. 
 He had not only awakened a passion 
 there, to feed upon her heart ; but he 
 had introduced the scorpions of an ac-^ 
 cusing conscience, where only a few 
 moments before all was innocence and 
 peace* " Wretch that I am !'' cried he 
 to himself; *' to repay the blessing of 
 thy tenderness wuth all this evil !" 
 
 But striving to sooth and to cheer hery 
 he vowed to see her at all events early 
 in the spring ; and at the feet of her 
 mother and her uncle, implore their 
 pardon, and consent to an eternal union. 
 When she became a little composed, he 
 besought a ringlet of her hair to console 
 him in his lonely absence ; and having 
 pressed the trembling hand that be- 
 stowed it, to his heart and his lips, he 
 allowed her to break from the clinging 
 arms that vainly tried to withhold her.
 
 iiS6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 She rushed through the garden into the 
 house; and locking herself within her 
 own room, gave way to the anguish of 
 her soul. 
 
 Ferdinand turned towards a remote 
 winding of the cliffs, fuller of self-arraign- 
 ment than of satisfaction ; yet though he 
 detested the selfishness of his recent con- 
 duct, the headlong impulse he had yielded 
 to his passion was too strong to allow him 
 to make the only restitution now in his 
 power : — to release her from both her 
 vows. 
 
 At noon the boat was announced that 
 was to bear the travellers to the carriage 
 on the mainland, which was to convey 
 them to the place of embarkation for 
 Spain. In the hurrying moments of de- 
 parture, the absence of Alice was re- 
 marked by none but the heart of Fer- 
 dinand ; and it yearned towards the sen- 
 sibility which prevented her sharing these 
 last adieus. He touched the cheeks of 
 her mother and sister with an emotion
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 237 
 
 they did not expect. He hastily em- 
 braced Louis ; and putting the hand of 
 the Pastor reverentially to his lips, hurried 
 down the rocks to the beach. 
 
 The Marquis's farewell was more com- 
 posed \ but as he crossed the sands to 
 the boat, he stopped, and gathering up 
 a few of the entrochi, (he had heard 
 called Saint Cuthbert's beads,) he bent 
 his head to tlie grey tov/ers of the mo- 
 nastery, and turning tow'ards Mr. Athel- 
 stone, said with a smile, " these shall be 
 my rosary, in grateful remembrance of 
 this holy isle !" 
 
 The venerable Pastor answered him 
 with a benediction. He saw the father 
 and son embark ; and stood with his sil- 
 vered head bare to the wind, as he waived 
 his handkerchief to the diminishing ves- 
 sel ; and breathed a prayer for the safety 
 of its freight, in every movement of his 
 uplifted hands. 
 
 If Louis ever felt a touch of envy, it 
 was at the moment when the distant sail
 
 238 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 disappeared from the horizon ; and as he 
 slowly followed the homeward step of 
 his uncle, he sighed to himself; " they 
 will soon see my father! — They will 
 understand all his glorious plans for the 
 service of his restored country ! — They 
 
 will witness his honours 1 — While I 
 
 down, my rebelHous, my ungrateful 
 spirit !'*
 
 ( 239 ) 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 The remainder of the autumn was passed 
 in Lindisfarne by the different members 
 of the Pastor's family, with no change 
 in the tranquil routine of their occupa- 
 tions, and little apparent alteration in 
 themselves. 
 
 Sir Anthony had made ample apologies 
 to his nephew, and concessions to his 
 uncle, to justify a renewed reconciliation. 
 He pleaded surprise and infatuation ; 
 and as the eccentric planet, whose in- 
 fluence created both, had some time 
 reached its perihelium ; it was hoped 
 the attraction would be too powerful to 
 allow of its return. Mr. Athelstone, 
 therefore, permitted his nephew to visit 
 as usual at the castle, till the closing: in 
 of winter rendered the shores dangerous,
 
 240 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 and commanded the emigration of his 
 family to the more sheltered regions of 
 Morewick-hall. 
 
 Louis's elastic mind, like the principle 
 of life shooting into every faculty of 
 vigorous manhood, recovered all its 
 spring ; and allowing himself to think 
 no more of his father nor of Duke Whar- 
 ton, than what was sufficient to keep his 
 emulation in active career to attain the 
 patriotic talents of the one, and the dis- 
 interested entliusiam of the other; he 
 devoted himself, heart and soul, to the 
 perfect acquirement of every branch ot 
 study which could possibly promote the 
 iXreat ends of his ambition. Accustomed 
 to labour, the buoyancy of his spirit 
 never admitted the touch of fatigue. 
 Bodily exertion could not weary his prac- 
 tised limbs ; nor diversity of mental pur- 
 suits, distract nor overstrain his faculties. 
 In the full power of health, and of a mind 
 which care had never traversed, all things 
 were easv to him. One hour he w^as
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 241 
 
 absorbed in mathematics, history, or lan- 
 guages; and the next saw him in the 
 chace, with his gun on the moor, or 
 bounding along the icicled heights of 
 Morewick, by the side of Cornelia. 
 
 Alice alone had exhibited a change 
 in her person and manners since the visit 
 of the noble Spaniards. She, who used 
 to be tlie most constant companion of 
 her cousin, now hardly ever joined him 
 in his rambles ; and always refused to be 
 his partner in the evening dances, which 
 usually diversified the amusements of 
 the hall, when any of the neighbour- 
 ing families made a part of its winter 
 fire-side. Her spirits and her bloom were 
 gone ; and Mrs. Coningsby at length be- 
 came so alarmed, that she seriously talked 
 with the Pastor about taking her in the 
 spring to some milder climate. Louis 
 was not insensible to the alteration in his 
 cousin. But those anxious attentions 
 which, in any former indisposition, she 
 had ahvays received from him with grate- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 ful affection, were now, not merely 
 avoided, but repelled with evident dis- 
 like. At first he attributed this strange 
 conduct, to some unintentional offence 
 on his part ; and he tenderly asked her 
 if it were so. She burst into tears as 
 she hurryingly replied in the negative, 
 and left the room. On mentioning the 
 circumstance to Mrs. Coningsby, it only 
 confirmed her opinion of her daughter's 
 illness being a latent consumption ; and 
 that her present distaste to what before 
 gave her pleasure, was a symptom of that 
 fatal disorder. 
 
 Such was the state of the family ; when 
 about four o'clock, one dreadfully severe 
 day in December, a person of a middle 
 age and a gloomy aspect, alighted from 
 a chaise at the door of Morewick-hall ; 
 and almost speechless with cold, v/as 
 ushered into the presence of Mr. Athel- 
 stone. The Pastor was alone in his li^ 
 brary: and the stranger in brief and 
 broken EngUsh, announced himself as
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 24^ 
 
 the Senor Castanos, confidential secretary 
 to the Baron de Ripperda, and a mes- 
 senger to the guardian of his son. While 
 he spoke, he presented two packets ; one 
 from the Baron, the other from the Mar- 
 quis Santa Cruz. With his accustomed 
 hospitality, Mr. Athelstone bade his guest 
 welcome ; and was enquiring after the 
 health of the Baron and the Marquis, 
 when Louis entered the room. In pas- 
 sing through the hall, the porter told him 
 that Peter had just shewn an outlandish 
 gentleman in to his uncle ; and impatient 
 to know whether he came from Spain, 
 Louis hastened to the library. 
 
 " My child," said the Pastor, « I 
 believe you are near the goal of your 
 wishes. — This gentleman comes from 
 your father." 
 
 The secretary bowed to the son of his 
 
 patron. And Louis, looking first at him, 
 
 and then at his uncle, exclaimed — ** my 
 
 father ! — and does he — ?" He hesitated, 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 he stopped; the eagerness of .his hopes 
 interrupted- his articulation. 
 
 " We will open this packet, and see,'* 
 returned the Pastor, taking that from the 
 Baron into his hand. But glancing at 
 the shivering figure of his guest, who had 
 drawn near the fire, he did not break the 
 seal, but desiring Louis to ring the bell, 
 requested the Senor to permit the servant 
 who attended, to shew him to an apartment 
 where he should ha^e a change of warm 
 garments, and proper refreshment after 
 so inclement a journey. 
 
 As soon as the Spaniard had with- 
 drawn, Mr. Athelstone opened the pac- 
 ket. It presented one for himself, and 
 another for his nephew. Never before had 
 Louis received a letter directed to him- 
 selfi from his father. Though he always 
 persevered in the duty of addressing his 
 only parent, yet, until this moment, the 
 answers were never more than acknow- 
 ledging messages through his guardian. 
 It w^as, therefore, with a peculiar feeling
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 245 
 
 of recognition ; a conviction of being now 
 owned by his father's heart as his son ; 
 that Louis opened the first letter he had 
 ever received from his hand. — 
 
 Its contents were these : 
 
 " My dear Son, 
 
 " I hear from the Marquis Santa 
 Cruz, that you are worthy the name you 
 bear. — That your acquirements do cre- 
 dit to the liberality of your education ; 
 and that you are not deficient in ambition 
 to bring these implements to the test. 
 I offer you an opportunity. Accompany 
 the bearer of this, to the continent. — 
 He is my secretary : — and has my com- 
 mands to present you to a person there, 
 who will put your talents to the trial. 
 Should the result be to your honour, you 
 shall not be long withheld from the em- 
 brace of your father, William 
 
 Baron de Ripperda. 
 " Madrid, 
 
 '' November, 1725." 
 
 I^uis pressed these welcome com-
 
 546 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 mands to his lips : then turning, to com- 
 municate their happy tidings to Mr. Ath- 
 elstone, he saw the eyes of the venerable 
 man still bent on the other packet ; while 
 the spectacles, which he held in his hand, 
 bore tearful proofs how little was his sym- 
 pathy with the joy that beat in the heart 
 of his nephew. Louis took that trembling 
 hand, and kissed it without speaking. 
 
 " I know, my child, that you are go- 
 ing to leave me. — I know that you are 
 glad to go ; — and it is natural, but an old 
 man^s tears are natural too." 
 
 Louis grieved for the grief of his uncle: 
 and anticipated his own pangs in the mo- 
 ment of separation from so paternal a 
 friend ; from an aunt and cousins so be- 
 loved : but he did not feel the most dis- 
 tant wish to escape these pangs an hour, 
 by delaying the journey that was to draw 
 him nearer to his father, and to the in- 
 distinct, but, he hoped, sure objects of 
 his ambition. He was indeed drawn by 
 two attractions : the one tender and per»
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 24?^ 
 
 suading ; the other, powerful and imper- 
 ative y and his soul leaped to the latter, 
 as to its congenial element. 
 
 In a few minutes Mr. Athelstone re- 
 covered his wonted serenity. " The 
 time is now come," said he, " when I 
 must put forth from my bosom the sacred 
 deposit I have so fondly cherished. — 
 Yes, Louis ; your spirit, more than your 
 years, demands its active destination: 
 and I will not murmur that the moment 
 for which I have educated your mind and 
 your body, is at last arrived !" He then 
 read aloud, and with composure, the let- 
 ter which the Baron had addressed to 
 him ; but it was not more explanatory 
 than the other, of the circumstances in 
 which he meant to place his son. 
 
 The secretary soon after re-entered. 
 On Mr. Athelstone putting some civil 
 questions to him respecting his present 
 fatigue, and his late long journey ; he 
 abruptly answered, " That as his arrival 
 had been delayed by contrary winds at 
 M 4
 
 '248 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 sea ; and the severity of the season did 
 not promise a more propitious voyage, in 
 returning ; it would be necessary for him 
 and Mr. de Montemar to take leave of 
 Morewick-hall the following morning." 
 
 The Baron's letter to Mr. Athelstone, 
 told him that Louis must yield implicit 
 deference to the arrangements of Castanos. 
 And in reply to some remonstrance from 
 the Pastor, for a less hasty departure, the 
 Senor coldly observed — "That at Ostend, 
 lie and his charge were to meet instruc- 
 tions for proceeding : and should they ar- 
 rive there a day later than the one fixed 
 by the Baron, the consequence might be 
 fatal to their safety. Indeed, that no 
 appendage should encumber their pro- 
 gress, his Lord had commanded him to 
 deny to Mr. de Montemar the indulgence 
 of taking a servant from England." 
 
 Mr. Athelstone made many enquiries, 
 to gather something of the object of so 
 peremptory a summons ; but he received 
 no satisfaction from the secretary, who^
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 249 
 
 With even morose brevity, continued to 
 affirm his total ignorance of what was to 
 follow the introduction of his charge to 
 his new guardian. His own office went 
 no further than to conduct Mr. de Mon- 
 temar by a particular day to the conti- 
 nent : but w^ho he was to meet there, or 
 how he was to be employed, future events 
 must explain. The frank-hearted Pastor, 
 became uneasy at this mystery. And the 
 more so, as from the secretary's hint, 
 (which he appeared vext at having drop- 
 ped) it seemed connected with danger. 
 "Yet it is his father, w^ho summons him in- 
 to such circumstances !" said he to him- 
 self; " and surely I may trust a father's 
 .watchfulness over his only son !" 
 
 Louis's imagination had taken fire at 
 what chilled the heart of his uncle. That 
 there was a demand on his courage, in 
 the proposed trial, swelled his youthful 
 breast with exultation. He thought, as 
 yet he had only tried his strength like a 
 boy ; in exercise, ► or in pastime. He 
 M 5
 
 550 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDK. 
 
 wanted to grapple with danger, with the 
 heart and the arm of a man ; and for a 
 cause that would sanctify the hazard of 
 his Hfe. *' And to something like this," 
 cried he mentally, " my father calls me ! 
 He calls me, as becomes the son of his 
 race, to share the labours, the perils, of 
 his glorious career ! I am now to prove 
 my claim to so noble a birth-right. — And 
 I wall prove it ! O gracious Heaven, give 
 me but to deserve honour of my father ; 
 and I ask no other blessing on this side 
 of eternity !" 
 
 Mr. Athelstone saw that strong emo- 
 tions were agitating the occupied mind 
 of his nephew, and reading their import, 
 in the lofty expressions of his counte- 
 nance, he did not check their impulse, 
 by recalling his attention to present ob- 
 jects ; but proceeded in silence to open 
 the packet from Santa Cruz : hoping that 
 its contents might cast a light upon the 
 destiny of Louis. 
 
 The letter was short : chiefly thanking
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 251 
 
 the Pastor and his family, for their kind , 
 ness to himself and his son during their 
 visit at Lindisfarne. Writing of Ferdi- 
 nand, he added that his health was ma- 
 terially improved, though his spirits were 
 yet very unequal. To remedy these re- 
 mains of his indisposition, he meant to 
 engage himself in the expected hostilities 
 between Austria and Spain, who were 
 likely to quarrel on a question of maritime 
 and commercial prerogative. The Mar- 
 quis concluded his letter by saying, that 
 he enclosed three packets from Don Fer- 
 dinand, as offerings of respect to the ladies 
 of Lindisfarne. 
 
 Mr. Athelstone believed he had found 
 a clew to the affair of danger, to which 
 Louis was to be introduced. He did not 
 doubt but that the Baron also meant to 
 engage his son in the anticipated war- 
 fare between their Catholic and Caesarian 
 majesties. The halting at Ostend seemed 
 to corroborate this surmise, as its new 
 commercial company was the very dis- 
 >i 6
 
 253 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 pute between the rival Powers. But still, 
 the immediate peril which threatened 
 any delay in arriving there remained as 
 unexplained as before. 
 
 When Louis perused the Marquis's 
 letter, he also supposed he was called 
 to a military life ; and as that was the 
 point to which he had most wistfully di- 
 rected his glory-attracted eye, the inti- 
 mation at once fixed his vague antici- 
 pations ; and rising from his seat, while 
 his thoughts glanced on Wharton's gay 
 demand to write man upon his brow, he 
 smiled on his uncle and said, " this is 
 the Toga virilis that has ever been the 
 object of my vows!" 
 
 *' God grant," cried the Pastor, mourn- 
 fully returning his playful smile, " that 
 it may not be steeped in blood !" 
 
 " And if found in the bed of honour,'* 
 replied Louis, " I should not rest the 
 worse for it!" 
 
 ** Yoii sport, my child, with these 
 gloomy suggestions J and may you ever have
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE* ^53 
 
 the same cause for smiling at the advance 
 of death! I know the passion of your 
 soul is to be always in the path of duty ; 
 and that in such pursuit, the rugged and 
 the smooth, the safe or dangerous, are to 
 you alike. Nourish this principle as that 
 of your part in the covenant of your sal- 
 vation. But keep a clear eye in dis- 
 cerning between duty and inclination. 
 Remember, that no enterprize is great 
 that is not morally good : that war is mur- 
 der, when it commences in aggression ; 
 and that policy is villainy, when it seeks 
 to aggrandize by injustice. In short, in 
 whatever you do, consider the aim of 
 your action, and your motive in under- 
 taking its accomplishment. Be single- 
 minded in all things, having the principle 
 of the divine laws, delivered by the Son of 
 God himself, as the living spring of every 
 action throughout your life. Then, my 
 Louis, you may smile in life and in death ! 
 You will be above the breath of man,' be- 
 yond his power to disappoint you in your
 
 254 IHE PASTOR'S PIRE-SIBE. 
 
 reward ; for it will abide with you in the 
 consciousness of virtue, and a sure 
 faith in an eternal glory." 
 
 While the Pastor was yet speaking, 
 Mrs. Coningsby and her daughters en- 
 tered from a Christmas visit they had 
 been paying in the neighbouring town of 
 Wark worth. They started at sight of a 
 stranger dozing in the great chair by the 
 fire. Overcome with fatigue, Castanos 
 had fallen asleep almost immediately after 
 he had given his last unsatisfactory re- 
 ply. The entrance of the ladies roused 
 him, and he got up heavily from his seat, 
 when Mr. Atheist one presented him to 
 his niece, and briefly told his errand. 
 Surprize at the suddenness of the sum- 
 mons, and dismay at parting with a com- 
 panion so dear, overcame Mrs. Conings- 
 by, and she sunk fainting into a chair. 
 Tears stole down the cheeks of Cor- 
 nelia, and Alice stood motionless, pale, 
 and silent. 
 
 After the emotions of the shock of
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDI:, '265 
 
 such intelligence had a little subsided ; 
 anxious to divert their thoughts, Mr. 
 Atlielstone presented his niece and her 
 daughters with Don Ferdinand's three 
 packets ; and repeating the young Spani- 
 ard's request that each lady would in- 
 spect her present alone, he added his 
 own wish, that they would indulge the 
 donor now. The hint was immediately 
 adopted, for Mrs. Coningsby understood 
 its purport. Divining her uncle's tender- 
 ness for the sensibility of his nieces, she 
 left him to discuss with Louis the many 
 arran^^jments necessary to a separation, 
 that might be final to most of the party. 
 The remainder of the day was hardly 
 long enough, for the preparation of the 
 various comforts each inmate of the hall 
 was solicitous to produce, to render the 
 journey and voyage of their beloved 
 Louis as free of privations as possible. 
 In the consequent bustle, no time was 
 allowed for dwelling on its occasion, or 
 giving way to the regrets which often 
 1
 
 5o6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDK 
 
 turned the heart faint in the midst of the 
 body's exertions. *' To-morrow, in the 
 hour of parting, we will indulge our sor- 
 row. We will then shew our Louis our 
 love, and our grief at the separation!'* 
 With these thoughts, Mrs. Coningsby and 
 Cornelia stilled their often-rising emotions ; 
 while Mr. Athelstone, reading in the 
 feverish activity of their services what 
 was passing in their minds, meditated 
 how to spare them and his nephew the 
 agitating hour they anticipated. 
 
 When the family parted for the night, 
 it was settled that Louis and his ^ureis^n 
 conductor should not leave the hall the 
 next morning until after breakfast ; and 
 therefore they should all meet again round 
 that dear domestic table, and there ex- 
 change the dreaded word farewell. Mrs. 
 Coningsby observed, that before she slept 
 she was going to write a few lines to Don 
 Ferdinand, to thank him for the fine 
 Moorish shawls his gratitude had pre- 
 sented to herself and daughters, and she
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE^SIDE. ^57 
 
 would give the letter to Louis in the 
 morning. Then, as was the custom in 
 this affectionate family, on retiring to 
 their rooms, he touched the cheek of his 
 aunt with his lips, and shook hands with 
 his cousins when he bade God bless 
 them ! 
 
 With a body unwearied, and a mind 
 too excited, to admit of any sleep this 
 night, he was passing to his apartment, 
 when his uncle opened the door of his 
 own chamber, and beckoned him in. 
 The venerable man, there informed him, 
 that he alone of all the family, would 
 bid him farewell the next morning. 
 That he feared the fortitude of Mrs. 
 Coningsby and his nieces in so severe a 
 trial ; and had therefore made arrange- 
 ments to prevent it. Louis listened with 
 gratitude, though with brimming eyes, 
 to the good old man's account of his 
 having ordered the travelling-chaise to 
 the lodge-gate at day-break ; and that he 
 had prepared Senor Castanos to be
 
 S58 THE PASTOR'S FlilE-SiDli; 
 
 ready at so unexpected an hour, and to 
 permit his charge to see his maternal 
 uncle. In the usual routine of his move- 
 ments, Sir Anthony had been some time 
 at Athelstone-manor, where he always 
 opened his Christmas hospitalities. As 
 that mansion was on the banks of the 
 Tyne, not far from Newcastle, where the 
 travellers were to embark, his nephew 
 w^ould have an opportunity of paying his 
 parting duty to him, without impeding 
 his journey by going out of the way. 
 
 Louis left his kind guardian, with a 
 promise of attending to the first tap at 
 his door next morning ; and in a more 
 pensive mood proceeded to his dressing- 
 room. On opening the door, he saw 
 Alice seated by his table. Her lamp 
 stood beside her; and its faint light 
 gleamed upon her pallid features. He 
 started with astonishment ; for she had so 
 long estranged herself from his slightest 
 attentions, that Alice was the last per- 
 son he could have expected to find at
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-^IDE. ^259 
 
 such a moment in his apartment. How- 
 ever, he approached her tenderly. On 
 seeing him, she covered her face with 
 her hand, and evidently wept, though 
 silently ; for as he spoke and soothed 
 her, (though vaguely, as he could not 
 guess the reason of this solitary visit,) he 
 felt the tears trickle through her fingers 
 on his hand. At last she was able to 
 command her speech, though she still 
 concealed her face ; and w^hen she did 
 find utterance, it was some time before 
 she dared touch upon the secret that 
 preyed upon her peace and life. She 
 told him that she was miserable ; that her 
 health was consuming under a sense of 
 her deception to the best of mothers, 
 sisters, and of guardians; and that unless 
 she did seize this, her last opportunity 
 of unburthening her soul to the only 
 friend to whom she could do so, without 
 breaking a fatal vow; she felt that she 
 must die, she could not exist much
 
 860 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE; 
 
 longer under the tortures of her con- 
 science, and the miseries of her heart. 
 
 Amazed, and alarmed, Louis hstened 
 to her, tried to cahn her, and encouraged 
 her to repose a full confidence in him. 
 At length, amidst paxoxysms of tears, 
 and agonies of shame, she narrated all 
 that had passed between herself and Don 
 Ferdinand; and that since she had so 
 rashly made him the vow of concealing 
 their attachment from those who ought 
 to know all her- thoughts, she had never 
 known a moment's happiness. 
 
 Louis was struck dumb with this re-- 
 cital. The brevity of her acquaintance 
 with Don Ferdinand, might yet be long 
 enough to allow his accomplished man- 
 ners and interesting state, to make an 
 impression on so young and sympathiz- 
 ing a heart ; she therefore found a ready 
 excuse with her cousin. But what was 
 he to think of Don Ferdinand ? Of the 
 advantage he had taken of her tender
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 261 
 
 and guileless nature, to betray her into 
 a confession and a vow, so sure to sacri- 
 fice her peace ; and which could bring no 
 gratification to him, but the disgrace- 
 ful consciousness of a triumph to his 
 vanity ! 
 
 Louis's fixed silence, while occupied 
 in these thoughts, struck Alice like the 
 voice of condemnation. She gazed dis- 
 tractedly in his face, and exclaimed in 
 despair, " You think I am unpardon- 
 able. — You think I deserve to die, 
 miserable and unfbrgiven ! Oh, wretched, 
 ..guilty Alice, — break, break your heart, 
 for there is none to pity you !" As she 
 uttered this, in a hardly articulate voice, 
 she threw herself back into her chair, 
 sobbing and wringing her hands in bitter 
 anguish. The violence of her emotions 
 recalled Louis to recollection, and sooth- 
 ing her excessive remorse v/ith every 
 palhative that affection could suggest, 
 he at last succeeded in restoring her to 
 some degree of composur^t
 
 262 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 She told him, that her purpose in re- 
 veahng her wretched story to him at this 
 time, was not merely to unburthen her 
 loaded soul; but to prevail on him to 
 convey a letter to Ferdinand, in which she 
 implored him to release her from her 
 guilty vow of concealment. " I have 
 warned him," continued she, " that if 
 he hold me to this impious pledge, it will 
 not be for long ; for 1 cannot live in my 
 present self-abhorring condition. But, 
 should my life be lengthened under these 
 circumstances, to be my punishment, I 
 will never consent to see his face again, 
 till he has released me from so sinful an 
 engagement." 
 
 Louis v/armly applauded her resolu- 
 tion. 
 
 " Do not praise me," cried she, " do 
 not call it resolution. I am unworthy 
 of approbation for any thing. I do not 
 resolve ; I only feel that I can know no 
 happiness, endure no person, but con- 
 tinue to detest myself, till this guilt
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 263 
 
 is taken from my mind, by a full con- 
 fession, and prayer for my mother's 
 pardon." 
 
 She shewed a letter, which had come 
 in the packet directed to her by Fer- 
 dinand, and which he had secured her 
 receiving free from observation, by his 
 apparently whimsical request that each 
 lady would inspect her present alone. 
 The letter contained protestations of in^ 
 violable attachment, petitions for her 
 constancy; and exhortations to keep their 
 secret, till the success of the plan he had 
 in view^, brought him again to her feet. 
 He had inclosed a miniature of himself 
 in the shawl which w^as his ostensible 
 present to her. " I will never look on it 
 a second time," said she, " till he re- 
 moves from himself the guilt of holding 
 me in this wdcked undutifulness to my 
 family." 
 
 Louis engaged, should he not meet 
 him at Madrid, to forward her letter to 
 Don Ferdinand, and to inclose it in one
 
 264 THE PASTOR'S FIRE.SIDE. 
 
 from himself, enforcing her entreaties 
 with his arguments ; and giving his 
 thoughts on the subject, as became his 
 relationship to her, and fraternal regard 
 for her happiness. He assured her, he 
 would do it with a scrupulous attention 
 not to irritate the feelings which had 
 excited her lover to deprive him of her 
 sisterly affection. Aware that her self- 
 accusing state of mind, could not bear 
 up against the representation he would 
 fain have made of Ferdinand's entire 
 sehishness in thus binding her, Louis 
 contented himself with advising Alice, 
 as a restitution she owed to her family 
 for all the misery her melancholy and 
 illness had made them suffer, to dismiss 
 as much as possible all painful retrospec- 
 tions ; and to console herself with the 
 conviction that she was now re-treading 
 her steps to the path of duty. ** Cheer 
 yourself with this thought," said he, 
 *' till the tidings shall arrive which will 
 take the seM from your lips. Then you
 
 TH15 PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 265 
 
 may confess all, and reconciled, by par- 
 don, to your family and yourself, you 
 will again become the happy Alice." 
 
 She wept as he spoke. But it was no 
 more the stormy grief of despair ; she 
 shed the balmy tears of penitence and 
 hope. It was the genial shower upon 
 the thirsty ground. " You have spoken 
 comfort to me, Louis. I have not been 
 so happy, since the dawn of the fatal 
 morning, when my impious adjuration 
 called down these months of misery upon 
 my wretched head. — Oh, if Ferdinand 
 could have guessed this, would he have 
 denied me such a comforter !" 
 
 Louis gently reminded her, that as he 
 was going, she must seek a comforter in 
 a Superior Being j and in the exertions 
 of her own mind : " you have ever, my 
 Alice," said he, *' been the idol of your 
 family ; and even to this day, been sup- 
 ported with a watchfulness, as if you 
 were still in infancy : yet, you see, how 
 inadequate has been all this anxiety to 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 preserve you from error, and its con- 
 sequent sorrows ! By experience, you 
 must now feel, that the care of the ten- 
 derest relations can be of no permanent 
 effect, unless you assist it with your own 
 circumspection and strength. Look not 
 for comfort from one side or another, till 
 you have found its principle in your own 
 bosom J that is to say, till you resolve 
 to act according to your duty. And this 
 is, not merely to grieve over your fault, 
 and yearn to confess it and be forgiven ; 
 but to lay a restraint upon your sensi- 
 bility, and the violence of your regrets ; 
 and from this hour to devote the whole 
 of your mind to the re-establishment of 
 happiness in your family. — Return to 
 your former occupations. — Meditate less 
 upon Don Ferdinand and yourself 5 and 
 think more of your mother, your sister, 
 and your guardian. — For their sakes, 
 try to be cheerful, and you will be so. — 
 In one word, my dearest Alice, remem- 
 ber, that to perform our duty in thif»
 
 THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. 267 
 
 world, we must sustain our own virtue, 
 and not habituate ourselves to the un- 
 certain support of others." 
 
 " Why, my dear Louis, have I never 
 heard these sentiments before? With 
 such forewarning, I sliould never have 
 erred." 
 
 ** You might have heard them often ; 
 for my uncle has frequently talked to 
 me in this way in your presence. But, 
 jny sweet Alice was not then awak- 
 ened to such subjects. You regarded 
 them as grave discourses, in which you 
 could be as little interested as in the 
 map of a country you never intended to 
 visit." 
 
 " And I went astray in that very 
 country !" cried she, " simpleton that I 
 was ; always to turn away from every 
 tiling but the pursuits of a child !" 
 
 She was anxious to engage Louis to 
 correspond with her; but as he could 
 not >vrite any thing to her that would 
 
 N 2
 
 ^68 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 not pass under the eye of the whole fa* 
 mily, he told her she had best rest sa- 
 tisfied with his exertions for her release ; 
 and when he had obtained it from Don 
 Ferdinand, he would then write openly, 
 and tell her all his thoughts on an affair 
 so momentous to her present and futufe 
 happiness. 
 
 The hall clock struck one. 
 
 Alice rose: she put his hand to her 
 lips, and smiled through her tears : — 
 *• I cannot be at this morning's break- 
 fast. — But now — dear, dear, Louis, — 
 best of friends — farewell!" — Her head 
 dropped upon his shoulder, where she 
 struggled with two or three convulsive 
 sobs. He pressed her to his heart, 
 and in vain tried to repel the tears 
 which started to his eyes : they flowed 
 over her face as he supported her 
 trembling steps to the door of her 
 apartment. When he had brought her 
 to the threshold, she uttered a breath-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. 269 
 
 less God bless you! and breaking from 
 his arms, threw herself into the room. 
 The door was closed : — he heard her 
 sob : — but tearing himself away, he re- 
 turned with a heavy load at his heart to 
 his own chambei'. 
 
 N 3
 
 ( 270 ) 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 The silver gleams of a winter morning 
 streaked the horizon, as the chaise which 
 conveyed Louis de Montemar from the 
 friends of his youth, mounted the heights 
 of Warkworth, and gave him a last 
 glimpse of Morewick-hall, lying in its 
 shroud of mist at the bottom of the val- 
 ley. The smoke of his uncle's chimney, 
 beside which he had just received that 
 venerable man's parting embrace and 
 blessing, was mingling its dark volumes 
 with the ascending vapours. A bleak 
 and gusty wind tossed their white billows 
 around the ancient pinnacles of the build- 
 ing ; but no smoke arose from any other 
 chimney ! — There was no opened win- 
 dow-shutter ; no sign of any other of 
 the dear inhabitants being awake. The
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-STDE. 2?! 
 
 good old man was then weeping alone, 
 and mingling with his tears, the earnest 
 prayer of solicitude for the preservation 
 of his beloved nephew ! 
 
 ** And the prayer of the righteous 
 availeth much !** said Louis to himself^ 
 fixing his eye on the golden disk just 
 peeping above the distant rim of the 
 ocean : <* lovers have preserved their 
 constancy, by a promise that each would 
 remember the other when the sun set or 
 rose ! Why shall I not preserve my con- 
 stancy to a better love than that of wo- 
 man, whenever I look on yon rising or 
 setting orb, and remember, that at those 
 hours my venerable uncle s on his knees 
 to Heaven for the conservation of my 
 soul?'' 
 
 As the turning of his carriage down an 
 abrupt declivity snatched the whole of 
 the vale of Coquet from his view, Louis 
 thought of his aunt and Cornelia ; how, 
 in another hour, they would be looking 
 in vain for his entrance into the breakfast 
 N 4
 
 ^2 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 parlour : and, what would be the burst of 
 their grief, when they should be told that 
 he was gone ; that he had found the heart 
 to leave them without one affectionate 
 farewell! He almost regretted that he 
 had spared himself and them a pang, 
 which, he began to think, would have 
 been more tolerable than the idea they 
 might entertain, that a passion for no- 
 velty had rendered him neglectful of their 
 parting tenderness. The wan counte- 
 nance, and piteous accents of Alice, next 
 presented themselves to his imagination ; 
 and, painful as were many of his thoughts 
 connected with her recent disclosure, he 
 could not but rejoice that her timely re- 
 morse, and as critical a resolution, had 
 afforded him an opportunity to make his 
 last act in the home of his youth, one 
 that would eventually repay his vast debt 
 of gratitude to her mother. 
 
 These reflections accompanied him 
 over many a heathy track, caverned with 
 coal-mines; and at night, the gleaming
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^73 
 
 fires on their bituminous surface, with 
 their wandering vapoury lights, lit him 
 along moor and fell, till the sulphurous 
 cloud which usually canopies the city of 
 Newcastle, received his vehicle as it 
 whirled down the steep northern hill in- 
 to the town. 
 
 At Athelstone-manor, a few miles 
 south of the city, he met his uncle Sir 
 Anthony ; and, as he expected, had to 
 listen to many a rough remonstrance 
 against obedience to so abrupt a summons, 
 Louis did not use much argument in re- 
 plies, the reasoning of which, good or bad, 
 he knew would be equally disregarded ; 
 but with assurances that neither distance 
 nor time should lessen his affection for 
 the friends he left behind, he sought to 
 dissipate his uncle's thoughts from the 
 subject of debate ; and so far succeeded, as 
 to pass the remainder of the day with 
 him in tolerable cheerfulness. But when 
 the captain of the vessel that was to con- 
 vey the travellers to Ostend, appeared at 
 N 5
 
 ^7^ THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 the manor, to announce that the wind 
 served and the ship was ready to sail ; 
 the newly restored good-humour of the 
 baronet was put to the proof: and it did 
 not stand the trial. He burst into invec- 
 tives against the Baron, for reclaiming 
 his son ; against the Pastor, for admitting 
 his authority ; and poured forth a torrent 
 of reproaches on his nephew, for so rea- 
 dily consenting to quit relations who loved 
 and honoured him, to become dependant 
 on the caprices of a father who seemed 
 to consider himself rather the patron than 
 the parent of his son. 
 
 Louis saw it would be vain to reason 
 with this violence ; and that all he could 
 do, was to take a grateful and steady leave 
 of his uncle. Sir Anthony clung to him, 
 mingling entreaties for his stay, with up- 
 braidings for his departure. And amidst 
 vows of entailing all on him, if he would 
 remain ; and oaths, to cut him off with a 
 shilling, if he persisted to go, Louis tore 
 himself away j leaving his uncle in an
 
 THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SlDE. 275 
 
 agony of grief and exasperation in the 
 arms of his servants. 
 
 Distressed by the outrageous emotions 
 of Sir Anthony ; so different from the 
 chastised feelings of the Pastor, whose 
 profound affections smoothed by their 
 fuhiess the rising sorrow of the parting 
 moment ; Louis found a refuge, though 
 a dreary one, in the soHtude of his cabin, 
 Etc sat for some hours, alone and silent, 
 in the encreasing gloom. The evening- 
 gun fired from the fort at the mouth of 
 the harbour ; and in a few minutes Cas- 
 tanos appeared with a lamp. He set it 
 on the table, and silently threw himself 
 into the birth appropriated to his use. 
 Louis was not in a mood to desire com- 
 panionship ; and with little more than a 
 gracious word or two of thanks to the 
 civihties of the captain and his mate, as 
 they stepped in at intervals to enquire 
 how he fared, he passed the remainder of 
 the night. 
 
 Next morning at dawn, when he pressed 
 N 6
 
 '276 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 his repeater and counted the hour, he 
 calculated that if the breeze had con- 
 tinued, his vessel must now be far from 
 the coast 5 and fearing to lose a last look 
 of the shore where he first remembered 
 consciousness of being, and where he 
 had imbibed, from friends dear to his 
 heart, all the valued impulses of his soul ; 
 he sprang from the cot on which he lay, 
 and stepped upon deck. The lonely 
 helmsman was at his post, gazing at the 
 stars, and steering slowly to leeward. — 
 To windward, stretched darkly along the 
 horizon, lay the embattled cliffs of North- 
 umberland. 
 
 ** Majestic England !" said he, as he 
 turned towards them; " How do thy lofty 
 rocks declare thy noble nature! There, 
 liberty has stationed her throne ; there, 
 virtue builds her altar ; and there peace 
 has planted her groves ! I leave thee, to 
 prove myself worthy of being thy adopted 
 son. I go far away, to send a good re- 
 port to the dear friends slumbering be-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^77 
 
 hind thy promontories. England, be- ' 
 loved, honoured 1 Where shall I find a 
 country like thee ? Will gorgeous Spain 
 be to me what thy simple giades have 
 been?" He sniiled at his own soli- 
 loquy. 
 
 " I go not to luxurious groves, and 
 gorgeous indolence," cried he, *' my er- 
 rand is to the arena of populous cities ; 
 to win, or lose myself, in the Olympian 
 struggles of man with man." 
 
 Louis forgot the receding shores of his 
 country and its beloved inhabitants, in 
 the ideas these images suggested ; and 
 forgetful alike of the wintery blast, he 
 only drew his thick cloak closer around 
 him ; and cradled in the coiled rope of 
 the anchor, with his eyes half-closed, 
 he continued to muse on his future de- 
 stiny : dreaming of martial atchieve- 
 ments, and a succession of visionary tri- 
 umphs, till the bright phantoms were lost 
 in the chaos of sound sleep.
 
 ( 278 ) 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 A prosperous voyage brought the travel- 
 lers safely to Ostend. — Castanos found 
 the instructions he expected from the 
 Baron de Ripperda; and he informed his 
 charge, their commands were that they 
 must proceed immediately to the metro- 
 polis of Germany, for there he was to 
 meet his father's friend. Surprised, but 
 not displeased at this extraordinary route, 
 Louis cheerfully set forward ; and did not 
 permit the curiosity natural to his thirst 
 for knowledge, to detain him a moment 
 in any of the countries through which he 
 travelled. 
 
 On a dark evening in January he and 
 his guide arrived at Vienna. The streets 
 were in so profound a gloom, he could 
 not have guessed he was now in one of
 
 THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. 279 
 
 the most magnificent capitals of the 
 world, had he not received some inti- 
 mation of its greatness, by the extent of 
 pavement he went over from the point of 
 the town at which he entered to that 
 which was to be his destination. As he 
 drove along, he perceived some other 
 proofs that he was indeed in the modern 
 Csesarean metropolis. He passed noble 
 houses, whose open gates shewed they 
 were superbly illuminated, and whence 
 proceeded strains of gay music that 
 gave sign of life and festivity within. 
 Castanos remarked, that these were 
 palaces of the nobility. Exhilarated by 
 the splendour of the lights, Louis en- 
 quired whether the house he was going 
 to, promised as much consolation after a 
 tedious journey. *' But I flatter myself 
 it will," added he, ** from what I under- 
 stand of the general rank of my father's 
 friends." 
 
 ** As the Baron de Ripperda is a 
 nobleman of an universal acquaintance," 
 12
 
 S80 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 replied Castanos, ** he has friends of 
 every rank, in every country." 
 
 In this instance, as in others, Louis 
 saw he could get nothing satisfactory 
 from his companion, and aware that a 
 little patience must explain whither he 
 was going, and what was to be his errand, 
 he asked no more questions. As his 
 carriage passed out of the brilliant halo 
 which surrounded the immediate vicinity 
 of these palaces, it seemed to enter the 
 regions of tenfold night ; so severe was 
 the contrast from gay illumination to ray- 
 less dafkness. 
 
 Af+er an intricate drive of another half 
 hour, the wheels no longer rattled on 
 pavement, but turning abruptly down a 
 narrow avenue, the leafless branches 
 brushed across the carriage windows, 
 as it jolted onward over a very rough 
 road, A speck of light appeared in the 
 extreme distance. As the heavy vehicle 
 rumbled forward, the light seemed to en- 
 crease in size, and Louis soon after per-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 281 
 
 ceived it to be a flambeau held in the 
 hand of a man. When the carriage ap- 
 proached him, he opened a pair of large 
 iron gates under a high archway, through 
 which the travellers immediately passed. 
 All around was dark, vast, and dreary, as 
 no lamp chased the deep shadows from a 
 court-yard of immense extent. 
 
 The man mounted the steps of a huge 
 black building, sufficiently capacious for 
 a palace, but gloomy enough to be a pri- 
 son. Louis followed his conductor and 
 the flambeau-bearer across a large cold 
 hall, up a wide-painted stair-case, mil- 
 dewed and crazy, and through a long 
 echoing gallery into a saloon whose dis- 
 tant extremities, like the outer court, 
 weref lost in deep shadow. A pair of 
 wax lights, flaring in the wind, stood 
 upon a great cla\v-table whose once gilded 
 surface was browned by time and neglect. 
 Little more furniture was visible than a 
 couple of chairs of similar fabrick, two or 
 three gigantic pier-glasses, reflecting the
 
 S82 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 persons in the apartment in ghost-like 
 obscurity, and a brasier of newly-kindled 
 fuel, sluggishly glimmering on the hearth. 
 
 Louis started at so dismal a reception, 
 so different from the cordial comforts of 
 Morewick-hall ; so different from the 
 social welcome of Athelstone manor ; so 
 widely different from the anticipated mag- 
 nificence of a palace at Vienna, and the 
 hospitable greeting of his father's friend 1 
 He paused at the threshold, then smihng 
 at the effeminancy of his disgust, entered 
 light of foot and of heart, saying to him- 
 self, " Do I shrink at so poor atrial of my 
 spirit? My father has guessed the sin 
 of my breeding ; and thus disciplines the 
 spoiled boy I" 
 
 Louis might have been wearied, body 
 and mind. He had travelled since the 
 moment of his landing without other 
 sleep than that he had caught by snatches 
 in his indefatigable vehicle. He might 
 have been hungry, for he had tasted no- 
 thing since the break of day. But he felt 
 none of these wants of nature, in his
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^S8 
 
 eagerness to meet, if not his father, his 
 father's representative, and to receive 
 from him that lather's commands. 
 
 When Louis entered the saloon, and 
 so far took possession of its dismal hos- 
 pitality, as to lay his hat and sword upon 
 the table ; Castanos called to the attend- 
 ant by the name of Gerard, and whisper- 
 ing to him they withdrew together. Louis 
 sat for some time, expecting tlie re-en-* 
 trance of the Spaniard, but no one ap- 
 peared. He looked at his watch : it was 
 near ten o'clock. From the hour, he sup- 
 posed the taciturn secretary was staying 
 away in his usual care of manufactur- 
 ing his supper ; and that he would pre- 
 sently return with his wine and omelet. 
 
 Louis sat composedly ten minutes after 
 ten minutes, but at last his impatience to 
 know why he was brought to so deserted 
 an abode, and who he was to see, got the 
 better of his determination to quietly 
 await events, and he rose to ring the bell. 
 He took one of the candles to seek for
 
 284 THE PASTOR'S FHUii-SlDE* 
 
 this indispensible piece of furniture, but 
 in no corner of the grim-visaged tapestry 
 could he find even its remains. He opened 
 the door, and called Castanos. No voice 
 made answer, but the dull vibration of his 
 own from the numerous vacant apart- 
 ments. With the candle in his hand he 
 retraced his way to the great hall, still 
 calling on Castanos, and then on Gerard, 
 and with as little success. 
 
 Determined to find somebody, he 
 turned down a paved passage to the quar- 
 ter that seemed to lead to the offices. 
 Not a living creature presented itself, 
 and all doors which appeared likely to 
 open to the air were padlocked, and 
 therefore resisted his attempts to force 
 them. He returned to the hall to ex- 
 amine the great door, and found it un- 
 bolted, but locked, and the key taken 
 away. He now comprehended that 
 Castanos, and the only apparent in- 
 mate of the house, had left the place, 
 that he was alone, and fastened in ; but
 
 IHE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 285 
 
 for what purpose he was thus betrayed 
 into solitary confinement, time only could 
 shew. To quell the vague alarm that 
 rose in his breast, he had again to recol- 
 lect he was brought into these circum* 
 stances by his father's orders. 
 
 " But at any rate," thought he, ** whe- 
 ther I am to meet friend or foe, there is 
 no harm in keeping my sword at my side. 
 It is just possible Castanos may not be 
 honest. He may not hold the rank in 
 my father's establishment, to which he 
 pretends, he may not be the very Cas- 
 tanos ; should he be a menial domestic, 
 instead of a confidential secretary, (and 
 from his avoiding my presence at all op- 
 portunities, and being so unwilling to 
 converse, when obhged to be with me, 
 it does not appear very doubtful !) then 
 I may, indeed, be in the hands of a viL 
 lain. He knows the generosity of my 
 two imcles, has made me a no contempti- 
 "ble object for plunder, and — in short, 
 I do not like appearances !" 
 9
 
 ^S6 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 With these ideas he hastily re-ascended 
 the stairs to the saloon. He found his 
 sword safe, and lost no time in returning 
 it to his belt. " What," cried he, *« would 
 be the reproaches of Sir Anthony, could 
 he guess my present situation ? What the 
 distress at dear Morewick, did they know 
 that their Louis, for the first time in his 
 life, now feels the touch of fear ?" 
 
 Murder in this loneliness ! To die under 
 the hands of ruffians, and be no more 
 heard of by the beings he loved best, 
 haunted his imagination while he w^alked 
 to and fro, examining again and again 
 the locks of his pistols. He had one in 
 his hand, when he heard the rumbling 
 of wheels in the court-yard. Shortly 
 after, the steps of a man sounded in the 
 gallery, and the saloon door being open, 
 Louis saw Castanos approaching with hi^ 
 Hsual slowness. He entered the apart- 
 ment, and laid a letter on the table. 
 
 " For me?" said Louis, " from 
 whom ?"
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ^87 
 
 " Its contents will tell you, Senor." 
 When Louis glanced on the super- 
 scription, he saw it was the hand- writing 
 of his father. While he broke the seal, 
 Castanos disappeared again. The letter 
 was as follows : 
 
 ** Louis ! — It was the dying injunc- 
 tion of your mother to your grandfather 
 Athelstone, that you should be brought 
 up to honour me with a double duty. 
 You can never forget the contents of 
 the letter which she wrote to her infant 
 son from her death-bed, and which your 
 uncle Richard was to open to you on 
 your twelfth birth-day. It told you to 
 love your father as she had done, and to 
 commit yourself in aU things to his 
 guidance. 
 
 " You are now called upon to act by 
 this sacred exhortation. To be obedient 
 in love and in fear, to a parent who re- 
 ceived her legacy of tenderness for you, 
 in his own bosom, and who will hereafter 
 pay it with interest from his heart.
 
 ^288 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 " Now that she is gone, you are the 
 only creature existing with whom I can 
 identify my own being, that is, com- 
 municate my thoughts and my actions 
 without reserve. Your interest is my 
 interest: and till time and experience 
 have given you judgement to guide your 
 own proceedings, my judgement must be 
 yours. You are yet a boy in years; though 
 a manly person, and, I understand, a 
 mind of no common capacity, give you 
 at twenty the appearance of maturity. 
 But remember, it is appearance only. 
 Talents and good dispositions are the 
 implements of wisdom, not wisdom's self, 
 she is born of lime and experience, and 
 shews her proof in hard probation. The 
 scenes in which you have hitherto been 
 an actor, amongst the simple inhabitants 
 of a remote province in England, are 
 child's play to the parts you may now be 
 called to perform. I am about to pre- 
 sent you to the world, to aspiring, subtle, 
 treacherous mankind! — You must be
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 289 
 
 instructed in every movement ; prompt- 
 ed, and supported. I have provided 
 means to these ends ; and all you have 
 to do, is to resign yourself with docility 
 to the masters I set over you. Should 
 impertinent curiosity, or refractory wil- 
 fulness, or any other perversity in your 
 conduct, traverse my present trial of 
 your character, we never meet! You 
 shall return whence you came ; and 
 only as one dead, hold a place in the me^ 
 mory of your father. The child of my 
 spotless wife shall not be denied an ample 
 provision ; but I will never cherish as mv 
 son, one who is an alien to my spirit. 
 
 " On the night of your arrival at Vi- 
 enna, my secretary Castanos has my com- 
 mands to introduce you to a person, who 
 will give proof of coming from me, by 
 shewing you a duplicate of that picture 
 of your mother, which your grandfather 
 bequeathed to me. — Being so assured, 
 you must revere and obey that person in 
 word and deed, as you would revere and 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 obey me ; and ever hope to behold the 
 face of your father, William, 
 
 <« Madrid. " Baron de Ripperda." 
 
 There were family references in this 
 letter, which affected the heart of a son ; 
 — and though the style was generally se- 
 vere, yet there was also a promise of such 
 full future confidence, that Louis could 
 not but pfess it to his lips as the earnest 
 of a fellowship with his father he was 
 determined to deserve. The first sight 
 of the letter had removed all suspicion 
 of his guide from his mind ; and having 
 read it with a beating heart, he walked 
 up and down the room, impatiently await- 
 ing the introduction of his father's 
 friend. 
 
 Again he heard the approach of steps ; 
 but it was now of two persons. He 
 stopped in the middle of the floor, his 
 eyes rivetted to the door, which, in a 
 few minutes was thrown open by Cas- 
 tanos; and a man of a commanding 
 4
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 291 
 
 stature, wrapped in a cloak, and with a 
 large hat flapped over his brows, entered 
 alone into the chamber. The door was 
 immediately closed. He stepped a few 
 paces forward ; and putting up the pro- 
 jecting brim of his hat, over which hung 
 a heavy black plume, that still threw a 
 deeper shade over his eyes, their piercing 
 glance shot at once through the soul of 
 Louis. 
 
 The stranger stood; and, without 
 speaking, continued to look steadfastly 
 on his future charge. With a progres- 
 sive movement of his powerful eye, he 
 perused the lineaments of Louis's face 
 and figure from head to foot. Louis 
 gazed on him in turn ; and wondered at 
 the awe he felt of an unknown being, 
 whose haughty port and unceremonious 
 investigation, rather announced the fu« 
 ture tyrant, than guardian of his conduct. 
 Hitherto his independent spirit had been 
 wont to start like fire from the flint, at* 
 any touch of oppression ; and he could 
 o Q.
 
 292 THE PAbTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 not but marvel within himself, why he 
 should both fear and respect the stern 
 aspect of this extraordinary man. The 
 loftiness of his mien was well adapted to 
 the countenance which the raised brim of 
 the hat disclosed. Dark mustachios and 
 a pointed beard marked his lip and chin ; 
 while the marble hue of his commanding 
 features seemed to turn even luridly pale, 
 as the brightness of his deeply-set eyes 
 flashed from vnider their shadowy brows, 
 upon his immovable companion. Louis 
 could not withdraw his riveted eye from 
 the searching gaze of the stranger ; and 
 he said to himself, *' I am thus struck, 
 because 4t is the representative of my fa- 
 ther that stands before me : it is he, who 
 that father has commanded me to reve- 
 rence as himself!*' — As he ended this 
 short soliloquy, he unconsciously obeyed 
 the sentiment of his mind, and respect- 
 fully bowed liis head. 
 * This action seemed to recall the 
 stranger from the abstraction with which
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. '2\)3 
 
 he was scanning his future pupil ; and 
 approaching him with a step which ming- 
 led a prince's dignity w^ith the firmness 
 of a soldier, he took Louis's hand, grasp- 
 ed, and wrung it, as if with some sudden 
 sting of mental anguish ; and then ab- 
 ruptly relinquishing it, threw himself 
 into a chair, and pulling the beaver of his 
 hat over his face, sat for some time lean- 
 ing his head upon his hand, and preserv- 
 ing the silence which had not yet been 
 broken. 
 
 Louis stood opposite to him, contem- 
 plating wath interest and expectation, the 
 further developement of this friend of 
 his father. At last the stranger spoke. — 
 
 " Louis de Montemar," said he. 
 
 At the sound of his name, ejaculated 
 by one who had continued so porten- 
 tously silent, Louis started ; and his 
 heart laboured in his breast. He was 
 now^ going to be told the secret of his 
 destiny ! — What it was his father de- 
 manded of his strength of mind, or bo- 
 o 3
 
 594 THE PASTOR'S FlRE-SmE. 
 
 dily exertion ; and how he was to prove 
 himself worthy to be received as his 
 son. 
 
 The stranger had paused, on uttering 
 his first address. — But it was only for a 
 moment. Again the lightning of hi^ 
 eyes flashed upon the face of his auditor, 
 and he resumed ; but what he said wa? 
 in the French language. 
 
 " Louis de Montemar, you have read 
 the letter which I conveyed to you, from 
 your father the Baron de Ripperda ?" 
 
 •« I have.*' 
 
 Again the stranger bent his head on his 
 hand. The long plumes covered his face 
 from observation ; but Louis perceived 
 that his whole frame trembled. After 
 another, and a longer pause, he spoke 
 again. — " And you are prepared to obey 
 your father's injunctions, contained in 
 that letter ?" 
 
 , "I am. For I believe my father would 
 not so entirely commit the temporal, and 
 therefore eternal, welfare of his son, to
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 295 
 
 any man who is not worthy of the 
 charge." 
 
 The stranger rose from his seat. — "I 
 am the man to whom your father has con- 
 fided this awful trust ; and I accept your 
 obedience. Know me as the Sieur Igna- 
 tius : and whatever else I may seem here- 
 after, it is not your interest to pry into. 
 Your duty is to know of me no more than 
 what I tell you ; and to obey me, as if you 
 knew me without reserve. To-morrow, 
 at noon, your task shall be appointed. — 
 Meanwhile, stir not hence. Refresh 
 yourself from the fatigues of your jour- 
 ney ; and rest confident in me and your 
 father. There is my pledge." 
 
 Before Louis could find words in a fo- 
 reign language, to answer, satisfactorily 
 to himselfi so extraordinary a speech, the 
 Sieur Ignatius laid the promised minia- 
 ture of the late Baroness upon the table, 
 and disappeared from the room. 
 
 o 4
 
 ( S96 ) 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Having partaken of a slight refresh- 
 ment, which the solitary domestic of the 
 mansion set before him, Lx)uis desired to 
 be conducted to his bed-chamber. The 
 man opened a door at the further ex- 
 tremity of the saloon, and the weary tra- 
 veller followed into an apartment even 
 more desolate than the one he had left. 
 The dull cold light of a winter moon, 
 shrouded in snow-clouds, gleamed through 
 the mouldering remnants of what had 
 once been damask curtains. These per- 
 ishing relics of departed grandeur were 
 all of furniture that presented itself to the 
 eye of Louis, as he looked around for a 
 place of rest. At last, in a distant recess 
 deep in darkness, the candle he held in 
 his hand shewed a mass of something
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 297 
 
 heaped together. He approached, and 
 found his own travelling palliasse on the 
 floor, and his baggage so disposed, as to 
 supply the place of chair and table. 
 
 In recognizing even these poor neces« 
 saries to the repose he needed, Louis cast 
 not a thought on the comforts he did not 
 see, but thanking God for the good pro- 
 vided, stretched himself upon his hard 
 bed, and soon was wrapped in balmy 
 slumber. 
 
 After a night of profound sleep, the 
 bright smfle of the awakened sun played 
 on his eye-lids, and starting from his pal- 
 let, with his usual morning-spring of joy 
 he hailed the brilliancy of the opened day. 
 In an apartment close to his chamber he 
 found that luxury of the continent (which 
 even this deserted mansion retained), a 
 bath, and having enjoyed its refreshment, 
 with spirits ready for whatever task might 
 be assigned him, he prepared to meet 
 again his mysterious visitor. 
 
 On re-entering the saloon, the gloomi- 
 o 5
 
 ^8 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIBE, 
 
 ness which had appalled him the preced- 
 ing evening was no longer there ; it had 
 disappeared before the chaser of shadows, 
 and he advanced to a window to see what 
 evidence of neighbourhood would present 
 itself without. 
 
 A view, as novel as it was gay and pic- 
 turesque, burst upon his sight. Under 
 the windows stretched a high balustraded 
 terrace, with broad stone-steps leading 
 down to a garden intersected with par- 
 terres and long vistas foliaged with glit- 
 tering icicles. The ground was white 
 with snow, which had been falling all 
 night, and nothing having tracked the 
 deserted walks, it lay in shining smooth- 
 ness as far as the low wall which bounded 
 the garden. Beyond the parapet, trees 
 of loftier growth stretched their ample 
 arms over a plain that banked the mighty 
 waters of the Danube, now arrested by 
 the mightier hand of winter into a vast 
 substantial causeway. 
 
 At this early hour in the morning, and
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 299 
 
 on that long line of ice, whose limits were 
 lost in the horizon, all Vienna and its sur- 
 rounding country seemed assembled. 
 Carriages of various forms and colours 
 elevated on sledges, and filled by their 
 owners of as various quality and habits, 
 swept along in every direction. Men and 
 women mounted on scates, darted past 
 each other with the velocity of light; 
 some with baskets of merchandize on their 
 heads, and others, simply wrapped m 
 their bear-skins, speeded forward on er- 
 rands of business or of pleasure. Many 
 of the sledged carriages took the di- 
 rection of a beautiful island in the midst 
 of the river. It was crowned with ce- 
 dars, and every tree of perpetual green ; 
 they parted their verdant rank^ to give 
 place to a sloping glade, on w hose smooth 
 bosom stood a splendid but fantastic 
 mansion. A thousand strains of music 
 pierced the distant air, while the gay 
 traineaux advanced in succession before 
 its gilded colonades. 
 o 6
 
 30Q THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 Louis gazed and listened. How dif- 
 ferent was this unexpected, this glittering 
 scene, from the sombre-suited winters of 
 Northumberland ! There, the black and 
 sterile rocks frowned horrible over the 
 frozen stream, which lay in death-like 
 stillness under their gloomy shade. But 
 yet that awful pause of nature was dear to 
 his contemplative and happy mind. It 
 filled him with recollections of the graci- 
 ous voice, which had spoken the world 
 into existence from the sterner solitude 
 of chaos ! And then, when his mood 
 for loneliness changed, he had only to 
 quit his meditations amongst these caverns 
 of cold and silence, to emerge at once 
 into the warm, social circle of endearing 
 kindred, and animating friends ! 
 
 While, with a fixed eye, he was thus 
 musing on the present and the past, 
 Gerard entered the room, and placed a 
 tray with breakfast on the table. Louis 
 enquired for Senor Castanos. The man 
 answered, he was engaged.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 301 
 
 " With whom ?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Then I am not to expect hfm at 
 breakfast?" 
 
 " He went out at sun-rise." 
 
 Louis asked no more questions, seeing 
 that all around him were under the same 
 law of la Trapse, 
 
 His lonely meal was soon dispatched ; 
 and as he found it impossible to fasten 
 his attention to a book, or even to writing 
 to the friends he loved, until he knew 
 when he was to be removed from his 
 strange situation ; he left the table, and 
 returned to his contemplations at the 
 window. He was standing with folded 
 arms, his eyes rambling over the ever- 
 varying scene on the river, and some- 
 times wishing to be one in the animated 
 groupe ; when, hearing a step on the 
 floor, he turned round, and beheld his ex- 
 pected visitor. 
 
 He wore the same enveloping dress 
 as before, and, as before, shook aside the
 
 302 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 overhanging plumes of his hat as he ad- 
 vanced into tlie room. Louis was re- 
 covered from the amazement into which 
 the mystery of his new guardian's address 
 had thrown him on their first interview ; 
 but he did not attempt to dispel the awe 
 impressed by his deportment, and his re- 
 lation as the Baron de Ripperda's friend ; 
 and, therefore, he greeted his re-appear- 
 ance with a collected, but a profoundly 
 respectful demeanor. 
 
 The Sieur Ignatius approached him. 
 
 *« I need not enquire of your health 
 this morning: you look well and cheerful ; 
 and these are signs of a constitution in- 
 dispensable to the fulfilment of your 
 future duties.'* 
 
 Louis answered witli a grateful smile, 
 that he had to thank Heaven for a vi- 
 gorous frame, and for a destiny which, 
 hitherto had not afforded him an excuse 
 for being otherwise than cheerful. 
 
 *« The cheerfulness of a life passed in 
 retirement," observed Ignatius, " being
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 303 
 
 the effect of active amusements rather 
 than of active duties, is habit and not 
 principle ; and must be re-moulded with 
 stouter materials, to stand the buflets of 
 the world. Louis, you are called from 
 the happiness of self-enjoyment to that 
 of self-neglect. You are called upon to 
 toil for mankind." 
 
 ** Point but the way, Sir !*' cried Louis, 
 in a subdued but earnest voice; " and 
 I trust, you shall not find me turn from it.'* 
 
 " It is in all respects different from the 
 one you have left. Fond old age, and 
 female partiality, have hitherto smoothed 
 your path. In the midst of this effemi- 
 nacy, I know you have meditated on a 
 manly hfe, on the career of fame, its 
 triumphs, and its crown. But between 
 the starting point and the goal, there is 
 a wide abyss. The imagination of vi- 
 sionary youth overleaps it : but, in fact, 
 it must be trod with strong unwearied 
 feet ; with wariness, privation, and dan- 
 ger."
 
 304 THE PASTOR*S FIRE-SIDB. 
 
 The eyes of Louis, flashing the brave 
 ardours of his heart, (and which he be- 
 heved were now to be summoned into 
 Hcenced exercise,) gave the only answer 
 to the Sieur's remarks, but it was elo- 
 quent of the high expectations he had 
 raised. 
 
 " Young man," continued his austere 
 monitor, " I come to lay open this mo- 
 mentous pass to you ; and, once entered, 
 you are no longer your own. You belong 
 to mankind : you are devoted to labour 
 for them : — And, above all, to sacrifice 
 the daintiness of a pampered body ; the 
 passions of your soul; the affections of 
 your heart ; to the service of the country, 
 which was that of your ancestors, and to 
 which your father is now restored." 
 
 " I am ready. Sir," exclaimed Louis, 
 »* to take my post, be it where it may, 
 and I trust that I shall maintain it as 
 becomes my father's son." 
 . •* At present," rephed the Sieur, " it 
 is within these walls."
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE- 305 
 
 Louis looked aghast. The animation 
 of hope springing forward to military 
 distinction, faded from his countenance. 
 — " Within these walls ! — How ? — 
 What can be done here ? — I believed — 
 I thought the army — '' 
 
 This incoherent reply was suddenly 
 arrested by the steady fixture of Igna- 
 tius's eyes. A pause ensued, doubly 
 painful to Louis, on account of the shock 
 his expectations had received, and be- 
 cause he had so weakly betrayed it. 
 With the tint of shame displacing the 
 paleness of disappointment, he stood 
 before his father's friend, looking on the 
 ground ; at last the Sieur spoke. 
 
 " What army do you speak of?" 
 
 With encreased embarrassment, Louis 
 replied : ** the Spanish army ; that which 
 the Marquis Santa Cruz gave my uncle 
 to understand was soon to march against 
 Austria, to compel the Emperor to fulfil 
 his broken treaties." 
 
 " And to meet that army in the heart
 
 506 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 of the Austrian capital," said Ignatius, 
 " you thought was the object of your 
 present summons ?" 
 
 Unable to speak, from a humiliating 
 consciousness of absurdity, Louis coloured 
 a deeper scarlet, and again cast his eyes 
 to the ground. 
 
 " No," continued the Sieur, " there 
 are ways of forcing sovereigns to do their 
 duties, besides that which the sword com- 
 mands. If it will sooth your disappoint- 
 ment, to think that you labour in one of 
 these, believe what you wish, and rest 
 satisfied." 
 
 " I am satisfied," returned Louis, " and 
 ready to be confined within these walls, 
 at whatever employment, and for what- 
 ever time, my father may chuse to 
 dictate." 
 
 " Follow me." 
 
 As Ignatius pronounced this command, 
 he opened the saloon door, and crossing 
 the gallery, stopped before another door 
 at its extremity. He unlocked it ; and
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 30T 
 
 Louis, who had obeyed his peremptory 
 summons, followed him into a room fur- 
 nished with an escritoire, and a large 
 table covered with implements for writ- 
 ing. 
 
 " This, Louis de Montemar, is your 
 post," cried the Sieur, closing the door 
 and bolting it. " Here you must labour 
 for Spain and your own destiny ; and 
 here," added he, in a decisive voice; 
 " you must take an oath of inviolable 
 secrecy, that neither bribery of wealth, 
 honours, nor beauty ; nor threats of ruin, 
 torments, nor of death ; shall ever induce 
 you to betray what may be confided to 
 you in this chamber." 
 
 Appalled at this demand, Louis did 
 not answer. The Sieur examined his 
 changing countenance. 
 
 " You cannot hesitate to give me this 
 pledge of honour !" 
 
 " Honour does not need such a pledge," 
 replied Louis, turning on him the as- 
 sured look of conscious worth ; " trust
 
 508 THE PASTOK'S FIKE-SIDE. 
 
 me, and you shall find, that in no case 
 where honour enjoins silence, death itself 
 can compel me to speak." 
 
 Ignatius shook his head. — 
 
 ** This will not do, in an affair like the 
 present. When the interests of millions 
 may hang upon a yea or nay ; he, who 
 has it in his power to pronounce either, 
 must be bound on the perdition of his 
 soul to utter that only which ensures the 
 general safety." 
 
 He paused for an answer. But Louis 
 remaining silent, as if still unconvinced, 
 his stern monitor resumed with augmen- 
 ted asperity. 
 
 *' I do not like this mincing nicety. 
 It savours more of effeminate dreaming, 
 than of manly intention to observe and 
 to act. At a word, take the oath 1 prof- 
 fer you ; or, prepare to set out this night 
 on your return to England ; and to the 
 absurd people who have taught you to 
 pant for glory, and to start from its sha- 
 dow."
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 309 
 
 The Sieur turned haughtily away. — • 
 The reasoning faculties of his pupil be- 
 came confused. Was he doing right or 
 wrong in resisting this demand ? It 
 called on him to stake his salvation on 
 the preservation of secrets, of the nature 
 of which he was entirely ignorant. It 
 seemed to him more than just, that a 
 stranger, however sanctioned, should, at 
 so early a stage of acquaintance, expect 
 that perfect reliance on his virtue, as 
 would warrant a man in so awful a ven- 
 ture as that of vowing to adopt all that 
 stranger might propose. But the autho- 
 rity with which he pronounced the sen- 
 tence which should follow persisted refu- 
 sal, struck Louis with astonishment. 
 Who was he, that durst so fearlessly take 
 on himself the responsibility of banishing, 
 without appeal, and with disgrace, the 
 son of the Baron de Ripperda? As 
 Louis looked up, with something of this 
 question in his eyes, he met the searching 
 glance of Ignatius. 
 
 12
 
 310 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 ** Young man," said he, " you think 
 your honour insulted, by the mention of 
 an oath. Your honour, which is yet un- 
 tried ! Which has passed through no or- 
 deal, but those presented by phantastic 
 imagination ! What must the Baron de 
 Ripperda think, when he hears of a son 
 who so insults his father's approved ho- 
 nour, as to doubt whether he ought to 
 pledge his faith on that father's virtue ? 
 And, after all," added he, " what more is 
 demanded of you, than the surety that is 
 offered every hour by the rest of mankind, 
 on the slightest requisition, and on the 
 commonest occasions ?" 
 
 " What is shghtly assumed," returned 
 Louis, " would be as shghtly rehnquished. 
 And I trust that my father will not con- 
 demn, and that his friend will not con- 
 tinue to misjudge, a hesitation which 
 springs from the inexpressible awe in 
 which I hold the nature of an oath. By 
 that most solemn of appeals, I have never 
 yet called upon the presence of my
 
 THfi PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 311 
 
 Creator ; and therefore I tremble to do 
 it now." But, *' added he," as it is the 
 will of my father ; who, through your 
 agency, demands it of me ; on the pro- 
 bity of his soul, I commit mine, and am 
 ready to swear." 
 
 " Then," cried the Sieur, *« subscribe 
 that paper with your name." 
 
 Louis took it, and read a form of 
 words in the Spanish language, which 
 claimed his allegiance to Spain ; by the 
 privileges and pledges of his long line of 
 ancestors born in that realm, by the re- 
 union of his father to that realm ; and 
 by the restitution which the King and 
 council had made to him of the Rip- 
 perda territories in Andalusia and Gra- 
 nada, forfeited to the crown in the year 
 167s, by the rebellious conduct of Don 
 Juan de Montemar Duke de Eipperda. 
 In just return for this grace from the 
 land of his ancestors, William, the pre- 
 sent Baron de Ripperda, had taken an 
 oath of fealty to Philip and to Spain.
 
 31S THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 And Louis de Montemar, his only son, 
 and heir to all his possessions, honours, 
 and civic duties, was called upon, by the 
 same solemn rite to devote himself to 
 Spain, as his country ; and to Philip as 
 his liege-lord. At the end of this of- 
 ficial document, a postcript was written 
 in the Baron's own hand, demanding of 
 his son, to add to the signature required, 
 on oath to perform all that might be 
 appointed him by his father directly, or 
 indirectly through the Sieur Ignatius, for 
 the service of the King ; and to hold all 
 secrets confided to him for that purpose, 
 inviolable as his Christian faith. 
 
 Louis saw nothing in bonds which his 
 father's hand-writing had sanctified, to 
 suggest further hesitation ; and, without 
 reluctance, he set his name to the paper, 
 and pressed to his lips the sacred volume 
 presented by the Sieur. 
 
 " Now Louis" said he, ** your task is 
 easy. Will, is a conquering sword !" — 
 as he spoke, a smile played for a moment
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 313 
 
 on his stern lip ; but like a sun-beam on 
 a dark cloud, it suddenly disappeared, 
 and all was gloom again. He opened 
 the escritoire, and took from the shelves 
 two thick scrolls in strange characters. 
 Louis continued to gaze on the face of 
 this mysterious man, as he arranged the 
 sheets on the table. The smile, which 
 had just lit up those lurid features with 
 the nameless splendors of mental beauty, 
 was passed away; but the impression 
 remained on his pupil's heart. Louis 
 congratulated himself on the assurance 
 that it gave him, and said inwardly, *< I 
 shall never forget that magic smile, so 
 eloquent of every ineffable grace of mind 
 and spirit ! It is a pledge to me, that I 
 may love, as well as reverence its pos^ 
 sessor." 
 
 Ignatius placed the papers before his 
 attentive pupil, telHng him, they com- 
 prised his duty for the day ; that he must 
 copy them stroke by stroke, for the in- 
 accuracy of a single curve, might pro- 
 
 VOL. I, p
 
 8l4f THE PASTOR^S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 duce consequences to burthen his soul 
 for ever. The Sieur then sat down to 
 give minute iristruction respecting the 
 execution of these momentous docu- 
 ments. The task was compKcated, and 
 of a nature totally different from any 
 thing Louis had ever practised, or could 
 possibly have anticipated. However, he 
 cheerfully engaged in its performance ; 
 and his employer, having seen the pre- 
 cision of his commencement, rose to 
 withdraw. Before he quitted the room, 
 he turned and said, that he supposed it 
 was hardly necessary to enjoin the pro- 
 priety of always keeping that chamber 
 locked, both when it was occupied and 
 when it was vacant. On Louis's bowing 
 to the implied command, he added, that 
 Gerard would strike on the door, when 
 dinner was served in the saloon ; and 
 that at midnight, he would himself re- 
 turn to the chateau, to inspect the papers^ 
 find affix his seal to their contents. 
 Louis continued from noon, till the
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 315 
 
 gloom of twilight, at his laborious pen- 
 manship. He knew nothing of the par- 
 ticular purport of any one of the nume- 
 rous sheets he was transcribing. The 
 characters were unknown to him ^ but he 
 was assured by Ignatius, all were directed 
 to the service of Spain ; and with ala- 
 crity and exactness he had completed 
 half his task before the duskiness of the 
 hour, and the promised stroke of Gerard, 
 gave him a short respite. 
 
 Solitude was again at his temperate 
 meal. He had heard enough from the 
 Sieur, to warn him against the impru- 
 dence of putting unnecessary questions ; 
 and determined to allow all unimportant 
 circumstances, at least, to pass by him 
 unnoticed by oral remark; he said 
 nothing to his taciturn attendant about 
 the continued absence of Castanos. His 
 dinner was dispatched in a few minutes, 
 and taking the candles in his hands, he 
 returned to the locked chamber to finish 
 his work. 
 
 p 2
 
 316 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDR 
 
 At the appointed hour, Ignatius re- 
 appeared. 
 
 The several heaps of papers were ar- 
 ranged for his inspection, and, with a 
 nod of approbation he examined them 
 one by one. He approved what was 
 done, and turning to the escritoire, sealed 
 them, and affixed to each packet its ap- 
 |)ropriate address. What were the names 
 on these superscriptions, Louis had no 
 guess, though he did not doubt they 
 were all to be consigned to the Baron de 
 Ripperda ; and, (as he observed by the 
 proceedings of the Sieur, they were ready 
 to be put into their last envelope,) he 
 ventured to ask whether he might not 
 add one packet more to his father. Ig- 
 natius remained silent. Though Louis 
 saw no encouragement on his con^ 
 tracting brow, he would not be so re- 
 pulsed, but steadily repeated his re- 
 quest, adding, that he was particularly 
 anxious to dispatch this letter, as it was 
 not only to assure his father of his de-
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 317 
 
 votedness to his commands, but to beg 
 him to forward one on most urgent busi- 
 ness, which he liad inclosed for Don Fer- 
 dinand d'Osorio. 
 
 " Your father will have sufficient assu- 
 rance of your obedience, in the execution 
 of these papers," returned the Sieur, 
 ** and as to promoting a correspondence 
 with Don Ferdinand d'Osorio ; — in 
 your situation, that is out of the ques- 
 tion. Your residence here is unknpwn 
 to any on€, and must continue so, till 
 the affair that commands your service, 
 is made or marred. Burn your packet, 
 therefore ; it cannot go." 
 
 During this speech, he opened the 
 leathern-bag that w^as to be tlie travelling 
 case of the dispatches. 
 
 Louis sighed convulsively as he put 
 liis letter back into his bosom. Ignatius 
 took no notice of this heart-sti'uck sign 
 of disappointment, but calmly continued 
 packing the papers, Louis thought of 
 ihe unhappy AHce ; of the tears «he 
 p 3
 
 318 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 shed on his neck at parting ; of his vow 
 to restore to her, her peace of mind ; and 
 he could not endure his own cowardice 
 in having been over-awed to the appear- 
 ance of giving up her cause, even for a 
 moment. He resumed in a firmer voice. 
 
 " I seek no correspondence with Don 
 Ferdinand, Sir, I never desire to hear 
 from him in return for the letter I am 
 10 anxious he should receive. It is only 
 to demand of him an act of justice to a 
 lovely woman whose happiness he has 
 destroyed. And to do this, I have 
 solemnly engaged myself to her and to 
 my own heart.'* 
 
 " Louis de Montemar,'* replied the 
 Sieur, " you are entered on a course 
 of life that will not admit of romantic 
 trifling. There is but one direction for 
 all your faculties : — the public good. — 
 Private concerns must take care of 
 themselves." 
 
 He closed the leathern-case over the 
 dispatches, and covering its padlock with 
 wax, stampt it with his seaL
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE, 319 
 
 " 1 repeat, Sir/* cried Louis impetu- 
 ously/' I have pledged my honour, to 
 the forwarding this letter to Don Ferdi- 
 nand ; and the public good will not deem 
 it necessary to make me a private de- 
 ceiver I" 
 
 Ignatius turned on him a look of 
 haughty reproof. 
 
 ** Young man, you know little of your 
 duty towards the public good, if you 
 can put its smallest tittle into competition 
 with the adjustment of an amour between 
 a weak girl and a profligate youth. Her 
 folly must be her punishment." 
 
 The indignation of insulted virtue 
 burnt upon the cheek of Louis. 
 
 " You mistake me, Sir ! She for whom 
 I am interested, is as pure from unchaste 
 weakness, as my father's honour from 
 stain. It is her soul that is enthralled, 
 by a vow extorted from her by this un- 
 generous Spaniard ; and to release her 
 from the wretched load, is the sole pur- 
 port of my letter to him/' 
 
 3
 
 320 THE PASTOR^S FlRE-SIDE. 
 
 " You love th6 girl yourself," said the 
 inflexible Ignatius, taking no visible 
 notice of the encreasing agitation of his 
 pupiL 
 
 " I do love her," returned he, " but 
 not , in the way your observation v^- ould 
 imply. I love her, as becomes the son of 
 the Baroness de Ripperda to love the 
 daughter of her sister ; that sister, who 
 has been to him in the place of the 
 mother heaven took from him at his 
 birth ! Alice Coningsby is the person 
 to whom I have bound myself to release 
 her conscience from the bonds of an att- 
 ful man. And, after this explanation, I 
 cannot believe that the friend of my 
 father will longer withhold my letter !" 
 
 The Sieur listened with his eyes bent 
 to the ground. -He looked up when 
 Louis ceased speaking; and saw, by his 
 proud indignant air, that he rather ex- 
 pected occasion for ftirther braving a 
 refusal, than to receive the permission he 
 affected to think could no longer be 
 denied.
 
 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 321 
 
 " Louis," said he, " I see what is 
 passing in your mind ; but I will not be 
 rigid to your present feelings. Your let- 
 ter shall go to Don Ferdinand. But 
 you must expunge from it all reference 
 to where you are, and tell him, to send 
 the acquittal of your imprudent cousin, 
 direct to herself." 
 
 Surprised and thankful, Louis readily 
 undertook to re-write the letter accord- 
 ing to these injunctions ; a few minutes 
 put it into the form required, and in- 
 closing the irresistible appeal of Alice 
 herself, to her ungenerous lover, he sealed 
 the packet, and delivered it to the Sieur. 
 The dispatches being fastened up, it was 
 to be committed to the particular charge 
 of Castanos, who was to carry the bag to 
 Madrid. Louis's grateful heart was 
 again going to pour itself out, but Ig- 
 natius checked the ingenuous effusion, 
 by turning severely round, as he moved 
 to the door. 
 
 " This time," said he, " I have yielded
 
 S2t THE PASTOR»S FIRE-SIDE. 
 
 to your request, in consideration of its 
 pious motive. But you must fully un- 
 derstand me ; and then you will not pre- 
 sume more on this indulgence, than the 
 spirit of your recent oath will sanction. 
 Here not only ends your correspondence 
 with Don Ferdinand, but closes your 
 communication with every person with- 
 out these \\alls, until our affair is termi- 
 nated. Not even the inhabitants of Lin- 
 disfarne must know of your being at 
 Vienna." 
 
 " I lament my ignorance of the neces- 
 sity for such precaution," replied Louis, 
 ** but the interdicted intimation is now 
 beyond my recall. 1 wrote to both my 
 uncles from Ostend ; and twice during 
 my journey to Vienna." 
 
 ** Such an accident was provided 
 against," answered Ignatius ; " Castanos 
 had the Baron de Ripperda's orders to 
 destroy all such letters in their way to 
 the post 5 so be at rest on that head. 
 Your father himself will take care to let
 
 THE PASTOR'S FTKE-SIDE. 323 
 
 Mr. Athelstone and Sir Anthony know 
 that you are well, and conducting your- 
 self to his satisfaction." 
 
 " I am* in his hands, and in your's," said 
 Louis, bowing his head ; while struck by 
 so strange an act of precaution, he had 
 not power to utter a word more. The 
 Sieur drew his cloak over the dispatches, 
 and without further observations, left the 
 apartment. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME, 
 
 Printed by A. StraJ>an, 
 New-Street-Scjuare, London.
 
 
 s^ 
 
 'M\ ^
 
 ILUNOIS-URBANA