The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

PEVERIL OF THE P'EAK. 493
wants a horse, and what not, and all as if things were as they wont
to be."
" Why, dame, an ye will Walk by my counsel," said the Chamberlain,
i' e'en shake him off- let him be jogging while his boots are green. This
is no world for folks to scald their fingers in other folks' broth."
"And that is well spoken, truly," answered Dame Raine; "but then
look you, Matt, we have eaten their bread, and, as my poor goodman used
to say "
" Nay, nay, dame, they that walk by the counsel of the dead, shall have
none of the living; and so you may do as you list; but if you will walk by
mine, drop latch, and draw bolt, and bid him seek quarters farther-that is
my counsel."
"I desire nothing of you, sirrah," said Peveril, "save but to know how
Sir Geoffrey and his lady do?"
"Lack-a-day!-lack-a-day!" in a tone of sympathy, was the only answer
he received from the landlady; and the conversation betwixt her and her
chamberlain was resumed, but in a tone too low to be overheard.
"At length Matt Chamberlain spoke aloud, and with a tone of authority:
"We undo no doors at this time of night, for it is against the Justices'
orders, and might cost us our license; and for the Castle, the road up to
it lies before you, and I think you know it as well as we do."
"And I know you," said Peveril, remounting his wearied horse, "for an
ungrateful churl, whom, on the first opportunity, I will assuredly cudgel to
a mummy."
To this menace Matthew made no reply, and Peveril presently heard him
leave the apartment, after a few-earnest words betwixt him and his mistress.
Impatient at this delay, and at the evil omen implied in these people's
conversation and deportment, Peveril, after some vain spurring of his horse,
which positively refused to move a step farther, dismounted once more, and
was about to pursue his journey on foot, notwithstanding the extreme disadvantage under which the high riding-boots of the period laid those who
attempted to walk with such encumbrances, when he was stopped by a
gentle call from the window.
Her counsellor was no sooner gone, than the good-nature and habitual
veneration of the dame for the house of Peveril, and perhaps some fear for
her counsellor's bones, induced her to open the casement, and cry, but in a
low and timid tone, " Hist! hist! 3M aster Julian - be you gone?"
" Not yet, dame," said Julian; " though it seenms my stay is unwelcome."'
" Nay, but good young master, it is because men counsel so differently;
for here was my poor old Roger Raine would have thought the chimney
corner too cold for you; and here is Matt Chamberlain thinks the cold courtyard is warm enough."
"Never mind that, dame," said Julian; "do but only tell me what has
happened at Martindale Castle? I see the beacon is extinguished."
"Is it in troth? - ay, like enough - then good Sir Geoffrey has gone to
heaven with my old Roger Raine 1"
"Sacred Heaven!" exclaimed Peveril; *" when was my father taken ill?"
"Never as I knows of," said the dame; "but, about three hours since,
arrived a party at the Castle, with buff-coats and bandoleers, and one of the
Parliament's folks, like in Oliver's time. My old Roger Raine would have
shut the gates of the inn against them, but he is in the church-yard, and
Matt says it is against law; and so they came in and refreshed men and
horses, and sent for Master Bridgenorth, that is at Moultrassie-Hall even
now; and so they went up to the Castle, and there was a fray, it is like, as
the old Knight was no man to take napping, as poor Roger Raine used to say.
Always the officers had the best on't; and reason there is, since they had the
law of their side, as our Matthew says. But since the pole-star of the Castle
is out, as your honour says, why, doubtless, the old gentleman is dead."
2