"This day will open them wide, or close them for ever," answered
Bridgenorth.

During this dialogue, which the speakers hurried through without
attending to the others who were present, Sir Geoffrey listened with
surprise and eagerness, endeavouring to catch something which should
render their conversation intelligible; but as he totally failed in
gaining any such key to their meaning, he broke in with,--"'Sblood and
thunder, Julian, what unprofitable gossip is this? What hast thou to
do with this fellow, more than to bastinado him, if you should think it
worth while to beat so old a rogue?"

"My dearest father," said Julian, "you know not this gentleman--I am
certain you do him injustice. My own obligations to him are many; and I
am sure when you come to know them----"

"I hope I shall die ere that moment come," said Sir Geoffrey; and
continued with increasing violence, "I hope in the mercy of Heaven, that
I shall be in the grave of my ancestors, ere I learn that my son--my
only son--the last hope of my ancient house--the last remnant of the
name of Peveril--hath consented to receive obligations from the man on
earth I am most bound to hate, were I not still more bound to contemn
him!--Degenerate dog-whelp!" he repeated with great vehemence, "you
colour without replying! Speak, and disown such disgrace; or, by the God
of my fathers----"

The dwarf suddenly stepped forward and called out, "Forbear!" with
a voice at once so discordant and commanding, that it sounded
supernatural. "Man of sin and pride," he said, "forbear; and call not
the name of a holy God to witness thine unhallowed resentments."

The rebuke so boldly and decidedly given, and the moral enthusiasm with
which he spoke, gave the despised dwarf an ascendancy for the moment
over the fiery spirit of his gigantic namesake. Sir Geoffrey Peveril
eyed him for an instant askance and shyly, as he might have done a
supernatural apparition, and then muttered, "What knowest thou of my
cause of wrath?"

"Nothing," said the dwarf;--"nothing but this--that no cause can warrant
the oath thou wert about to swear. Ungrateful man! thou wert to-day
rescued from the devouring wrath of the wicked, by a marvellous
conjunction of circumstances--Is this a day, thinkest thou, on which to
indulge thine own hasty resentments?"

"I stand rebuked," said Sir Geoffrey, "and by a singular monitor--the
grasshopper, as the prayer-book saith, hath become a burden to
me.--Julian, I