y earthly happiness--and what
have you offered, or what have you to offer in return, for the surrender
you require of me?"

"I am but too sensible," said Peveril, abashed at his own hasty
conclusions, "how difficult it may be."

"Nay, but interrupt me not," replied Bridgenorth, "till I show you the
amount of what you offer me in exchange for a boon, which, whatever may
be its intrinsic value, is earnestly desired by you, and comprehends all
that is valuable on earth which I have it in my power to bestow. You may
have heard that in the late times I was the antagonist of your father's
principles and his profane faction, but not the enemy of his person."

"I have ever heard," replied Julian, "much the contrary; and it was but
now that I reminded you that you had been his friend."

"Ay. When he was in affliction and I in prosperity, I was neither
unwilling, nor altogether unable, to show myself such. Well, the tables
are turned--the times are changed. A peaceful and unoffending man
might have expected from a neighbour, now powerful in his turn, such
protection, when walking in the paths of the law, as all men, subjects
of the same realm, have a right to expect even from perfect strangers.
What chances? I pursue, with the warrant of the King and law, a
murderess, bearing on her hand the blood of my near connection, and I
had, in such a case, a right to call on every liege subject to render
assistance to the execution. My late friendly neighbour, bound, as a man
and a magistrate, to give ready assistance to a legal action--bound,
as a grateful and obliged friend, to respect my rights and my
person--thrusts himself betwixt me--me, the avenger of blood--and my
lawful captive; beats me to the earth, at once endangering my life, and,
in mere human eyes, sullying mine honour; and under his protection, the
Midianitish woman reaches, like a sea-eagle, the nest which she hath
made in the wave-surrounded rocks, and remains there till gold, duly
administered at Court, wipes out all memory of her crime, and baffles
the vengeance due to the memory of the best and bravest of men.--But,"
he added, apostrophising the portrait of Christian, "thou art not
yet forgotten, my fair-haired William! The vengeance which dogs thy
murderess is slow,--but it is sure!"

There was a pause of some moments, which Julian Peveril, willing to hear
to what conclusion Major Bridgenorth was finally to arrive, did not
care to interrupt. Accordingly, in a few