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.

500 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
parent to fight for. Besides, you have my word; and when was a Peveril
known to break it?"
"Ay," replied his com panion, " a Peveril - a Peveril of the Peak! - a
name which has long sounded like a war-trumpet in the land; but which
has now perhaps sounded its last loud note. Look back, young man, on the
darksome turrets of your father's house, which uplift themselves as proudly
on the brow of the hill, as their owners raised themselves above the sons of
their people. Think upon your father, a captive - yourself in some sort a
fugitive - your light quenched - your glory abased - your estate wrecked
and impoverished. Think that Providence has subjected the destinies of
the race of Peveril to one, whom, in their aristocratic pride, they held as a
plebeian upstart. Think of this; and when you again boast of your
ancestry, remember, that he who raiseth the lowly can also abase the high
in heart."
Julian did indeed gaze for an instant, with a swelling heart, upon the
dimly seen turrets of his paternal mansion, on which poured the moonlight,
lAixed with long shadows of the towers and trees. But while he sadly
acknowledged the truth of Bridgenorth's observation, he felt indignant at
his ill-timed triumph. "If fortune had followed worth," he said, "'the
Castle of Martindale, and the name of Peveril, had afforded no room for
their enemy's vainglorious boast. But those who have stood high on
Fortune's wheel, must abide by the consequence of its revolutions. This
much I will at least say for my father's house, that it has not stood unhonoured; nor will it fall-if it is to fall-unlamented. Forbear, then, if you
are indeed the Christian you call yourself, to exult in the misfbrtunes of
others, or to confide in your own prosperity. If the light of our house be
now quenched, God can rekindle it in his own good time."
Peveril broke off in extreme surprise; for as he spake the last words, the
bright red beams of the family beacon began again to glimmer from its
wonted watch-tower, checkering the pale moonbeam with a ruddier glow.
Bridgenorth also gazed on this unexpected illumination with surprise, and
not, as it seemed, without disquietude. "Young man," he resumed, "it
can scarcely be but that Heaven intends to work great things by your hand,
so singularly has that augury followed on your words."
So saying, he put his horse once more in motion; and looking back, fromr
time to time, as if to assure himself that the beacon of the Castle was
actually rekindled, he led the way through the well-known paths and alleys,
to his own house of Moultrassie, followed by Peveril, who although sensible
that the light might be altogether accidental, could not but receive as a
good omen an event so intimately connected with the tradition and usages
of his family.
They alighted at the hall-door, which was hastily opened by a female;
and while the deep tone of Bridgenorth called on the groom to take their
horses, the well-known voice, of his daughter Alice was heard to exclaim in
thanksgiving to God, who had restored her father in safety.