ing his brows. "You were
ever something too fond, dame, of giving way to the usurpation of such
people."

"I only mean," said Lady Peveril, "that as the person--he to whom
Lord Derby's story related--was the brother of his late lady, he
threatened--but I cannot think that he was serious."

"Threaten?--threaten the Lady of Derby and Man in my house!--the widow
of my friend--the noble Charlotte of Latham House!--by Heaven, the
prick-eared slave shall answer it! How comes it that my knaves threw him
not out of the window?"

"Alas! Sir Geoffrey, you forget how much we owe him," said the lady.

"Owe him!" said the Knight, still more indignant; for in his singleness
of apprehension he conceived that his wife alluded to pecuniary
obligations,--"if I do owe him some money, hath he not security for it?
and must he have the right, over and above, to domineer and play the
magistrate in Martindale Castle?--Where is he?--what have you made of
him? I will--I must speak with him."

"Be patient, Sir Geoffrey," said the Countess, who now discerned the
cause of her kinswoman's apprehension; "and be assured I did not need
your chivalry to defend me against this discourteous faitour, as _Morte
d'Arthur_ would have called him. I promise you my kinswoman hath fully
righted my wrong; and I am so pleased to owe my deliverance entirely to
her gallantry, that I charge and command you, as a true knight, not to
mingle in the adventure of another."

Lady Peveril, who knew her husband's blunt and impatient temper, and
perceived that he was becoming angry, now took up the story, and plainly
and simply pointed out the cause of Master Bridgenorth's interference.

"I am sorry for it," said the Knight; "I thought he had more sense;
and that this happy change might have done some good upon him. But you
should have told me this instantly--It consists not with my honour that
he should be kept prisoner in this house, as if I feared anything he
could do to annoy the noble Countess, while she is under my roof, or
within twenty miles of this Castle."

So saying, and bowing to the Countess, he went straight to the gilded
chamber, leaving Lady Peveril in great anxiety for the event of an angry
meeting between a temper hasty as that of her husband, and stubborn like
that of Bridgenorth. Her apprehensions were, however, unnecessary; for
the meeting was not fated to take place.

When Sir Geoffrey Peveril, having dismissed Whitaker and his sentinels,
enter