Peveril of the Peak

changing his tone to serious, which was in general ironical, he added, 'Young man, when the pestilence is diffused through the air of a city, it is in vain men would avoid the disease, by seeking solitude, and shunning the company of their fellow-sufferers.'

'In what, then, consists their safety?' said Peveril, willing to ascertain, if possible, the drift of his companion's purpose.

'In following the counsels of wise physicians;' such was the stranger's answer.

'And as such,' said Peveril, 'you offer me your advice?'

'Pardon me, young man,' said the stranger haughtily, 'I see no reason I should do so.—I am not,' he added, in his former tone, 'your fee'd physician—I offer no advice—I only say it would be wise that you sought it.'

'And from whom, or where, can I obtain it?' said Peveril. 'I wander in this country like one in a dream; so much a few months have changed it. Men who formerly occupied themselves with their own affairs, are now swallowed up in matters of state policy; and those tremble under the apprehension of some strange and sudden convulsion of empire, who were formerly only occupied by the fear of going to bed supperless. And to sum up the matter, I meet a stranger apparently well acquainted with my name and concerns, who first attaches himself to me, whether I will or no; and then refuses me an explanation of his business, while he menaces me with the strangest accusations.'

'Had I meant such infamy,' said the stranger, 'believe me, I had not given you the thread of my intrigue. But be wise, and come one with me. There is, hard by, a small inn, where, if you can take a stranger's warrant for it, we shall sleep in perfect security.'

'Yet, you yourself,' said Peveril, 'but now were anxious to avoid observation; and in that case, how can you protect me?'

'Pshaw! I did but silence that tattling landlady, in the way in which such people are most readily hushed; and for Topham, and his brace of night owls, they must hawk at other and lesser game than I should prove.'

Peveril could not help admiring the easy and confident indifference with which the stranger seemed to assume a superiority to all the circumstances of danger around him; and after hastily considering the matter with himself, came to the resolution to keep company with him for this night at least; and to learn, if possible, who he really was, and to what party in the estate he was attached. The boldness and freedom of his talk seemed almost inconsistent with his following the perilous, though at that time the gainful trade of an informer. No doubt, such persons assumed every appearance which could insinuate them into the confidence of their destined victims; but Julian thought he discovered in this man's manner, a wild and reckless frankness, which he could not but connect with the idea of sincerity in the present case. He therefore answered, after a moment's recollection, 'I embrace your proposal, sir; although, by doing so, I am reposing a sudden, and perhaps an unwary, confidence.'

'And what am I, then, reposing in you?' said the stranger. 'Is not our confidence mutual?'

'No; much the contrary. I know nothing of you whatever—you have named me; and, knowing me to be Julian Peveril, know you may travel with me in perfect security.'

'The devil I do!' answered his companion. 'I travel in the same security as with a lighted petard, which I may expect to explode every moment. Are you not the son of Peveril of the Peak, with whose name Prelacy and Popery are so closely allied, that no old woman of either sex in Derbyshire concludes her prayer without a petition to be freed from all three? And do you not come from the Popish Countess of Derby, bringing, for aught I know, a whole army of Manxmen in your pocket, with full complement of arms, ammunition, baggage, and a train of field artillery?'

'It is not very likely I should be so poorly mounted,' said Julian, laughing, 'if I had such a weight to carry. But lead on, sir. I see I must wait for your confidence, till you think proper to confer it; for you are already so well acquainted with my affairs, that I have nothing to offer you in exchange for it.'

'Allons, then,' said his companion; 'give your horse the spur, and raise the curb rein, lest he measure the ground with his nose instead of his paces. We are not now more than a furlong or two from the place of entertainment.'

They mended their pace accordingly, and soon arrived at the small solitary inn which the traveller had mentioned. When its light began to twinkle before them, the stranger, as if recollecting something he had forgotten, 'By the way, you must have a name to pass by; for it may be ill travelling under your own, as the fellow who keeps this house is an old Cromwellian. What will you call yourself?—My name is—for the present— Ganlesse.'

'There is no occasion to assume a name at all,' answered Julian. 'I do not incline to use a borrowed one, especially as I may meet with some one who knows my own.'

'I will call you Julian, then,' said Master Ganlesse; 'for Peveril will smell, in the nostrils of mine host, of idolatry, conspiracy, Smithfield faggots, fish on Fridays, the murder of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, and the fire of purgatory.'

As he spoke thus, they alighted under the great broad-branched oak tree, that served to canopy the ale- bench, which, at an earlier hour, had groaned under the weight of a frequent conclave of rustic politicians. Ganlesse, as he dismounted, whistled in a particularly shrill note, and was answered from within the house. 

CHAPTER XXII

He was a fellow in a peasant's garb;
Yet one could censure you a woodcock's carving.
Like any courtier at the ordinary.

—THE ORDINARY.

The person who appeared at the door of the little inn to receive Ganlesse, as we mentioned in our last chapter, sung, as he came forward, this scrap of an old ballad,—

'Good even to you, Diccon;
And how have you sped;
Bring you the bonny bride
To banquet and bed?'

To which Ganlesse answered, in the same tone and tune,—

'Content thee, kind Robin;
He need little care,
Who brings home a fat buck
Instead of a hare.'