The pastor's fireside ... The third edition

Front matter

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Chapter I

LINDISFAJaNE — THE HOLY ISLAND. It was late one winterly evening in September, when a boat, borne onward by a single sail, passed along the narrow sea which divides Lindisfarne from the mainland, and moored itself within the small bay of the island. The moon was beginning to rise ; and by her silvering outline, already distinguished the venerable relics of Saint Cuthbert's monastery from the shadows of twilight; while the adjacent steep rock, helmed with its ancient towers, still seemed to threaten the approach of any sea-borne invader. Two persons, wrapped in large cloaks, and followed by one who seemed a servant, rose from the boat ; and giving a piece of gold to their solitary navigator, stepped on shore. The elder of the two made the sign of the cross upon his breast, and with his eyes bent to the ground, walked slowly forward.

The younger performed the same act of devotion, though in a less fixed manner, and shivering as he looked up to the flying clouds, followed his companion. Having proceeded over sand and shingle without discerning anything like an inhabited dwelling, the travellers began to doubt the boatman's information respecting the situation of their purposed lodgings ; and, looking around for some other intelligence, perceived a group of fishermen on a shelve of the rock. By the assistance of his ser vant, the youth scrambled up the acclivity, and inquired the way to the Reverend Richard Athelstone's. One of the men, raising himself from the heap of gathered nets they had been drying on the rocks, pointed along the top of the cliff, and told his questioner to keep on, west of the abbey, when he would soon see the church, and the pastor's house beside it.

The travellers proceeded a little way in the direction given ; but finding that the dubious light bewildered them, not distinguishing rocks from ruins, the younger returned to the fisherman, and begged. he would conduct them to Mr. Athelstone's. This request was obeyed with the same direct compliance as his question had been answered ; and the man, throwing his net over his shoulder, trudged on before the travellers. The elder pursued his way in de vout abstraction. His eyes were fixed on the distant tower of the monastery. It stood alone on the bright horizon ; and seemed, to his musing fancy, like the still hovering shade of the glorified saint of the island. THE PASTOli's FIBE-SIDE. This path to the pastor's dwelling lay by the ruins of the wall which had once surrounded the monastery. As the travellers approached it, the roofless aisles and broken arches stood white in the moonbeam ; and the windows, partially obscured by the withered stonecrop which sprung from their mouldering columns, threw a chequered light on the half-sunk monuments below : The youth, fatigued in limbs and depressed in spirits, drew near his companion.

The elder traveller pressed the chilled arm that now rested upon his, and said in a low voice, " What desolation is here ! Ah, my son, how can we expect peace in the councils, or virtue in the conduct of a people who thus dishonour the tombs of their saints !" " Alas, my lord," replied the young man, " if we must estimate the piety of nations by the unanimity of their councils, we have not much reason to congratulate ourselves on the holiness of Spain ! Why," added he with scorn, "did her vacillating policy drag us from elysian Italy ? But for that, we might never have visited these desert shores." "Ferdinand," rejoined his father, "the disease of your heart makes you misjudge your country. Spain has her errors ; but no comparison can be justly drawn between a people that respect the Faith, even to hallowing the ashes of its apostles ; and a race of men here, who trample alike on the rights of their kings, and the ordinances of the church ! — No good can come to such a people."

The young man shivered, and forced a smile. "At least," ex claimed he, " no good can come to us in so excommunicated a land : — though I shall not be sorry to shelter myself from its cutting blast, even within the condemned cell of the heretic cura of the island." The travellers continued to follow their guide over a rough road, covered with loose stones, and rendered intricate by numerous stunted trees, which grew in straggling loneliness amongst the de tached masses of the decaying monastery. Through the shadowy arches of what had once been a passage to the west cloisters, they espied a distant light. " For your sake, my son," said the elder stranger, " I hope that portends we are near houses !" " I hope so, too," rejoined Ferdinand ; "but I also fear it may be only the lantern of some vessel (more lucky than we were) passing this desolate rock."

Having made their way through the varied gloom of the ruins, they came out on a smooth sheep-path. The abbey now lay behind them. Before them rose the spire of the parish church ; and near it, in holy fellowship, stood the parsonage ; from whose ivy-latticed window still streamed the friendly ray which had guided them to its gate. "This be our pastor's— and God's blessing abide with him andhis1 '* said the fisherman, pointing, with a bow, to the house. Ferdinand put money into the man's hand, and then followed his father and their servant through a wicket into a little green court They crossed its soft grass, and stooping beneath a low stone porch knocked at the house-door It was opened by a hoary-headed ser vant, of a hale and cheerful aspect. The elder stranger asked for The Reverend Richard Athelstone.

The old man immediately opened a door at his right hand ; and without other reply than a respectful bow, ushered the travellers into the presence of his master. The venerable pastor of Lindisfarne advanced to meet his visitors ; who, though unannounced, he saw by their air were foreigners and gentlemen. The elder apologised for their appearance at so late an hour ; saying, they had arrived from Holland at Berwick that morning in the midst of a storm. " But," continued he, " when the tempest subsided towards evening, I became too impatient to tread the sacred shore of Lindisfarne ; and to deliver a packet intrusted to me by the Grand-Pensionary Hensius, to delay my coming until another day." While the stranger spoke, he presented the packet. Mr. Athel stone received it with a hospitable smile ; and turning to a lady, who sat with two younger ones at a work-table near the fire — " Mrs. Coningshy, my dear niece," said he, "welcome these gentlemen; they come from a friend of your lamented father's." The lady rose, and gracefully obeyed, by expressing her reve rence for the grand-pensionary; and the pleasure she felt in seeing Lindisfarne honoured by his remembrance in the persons of his friends.

She then introduced the young ladies as her daughters. The eldest she called Cornelia, and the youngest Alice. They cast down their eyes and bowed their fair necks to the strangers, while their mother named them ; and when, on observing the pale countenance of Ferdinand, she invited the two gentlemen to draw nearer the fire, the sisters moved their chairs back, and pursued their needlework with redoubled industry. Mr. Athelstone took a hasty survey of the grand-pensionary's letter ; and folding it up, repeated his former polite greeting, with the cordial addition of taking the strangers each by the hand. " Pleased as I was to receive any friend of the Baron Hensius," said he, " how must my pleasure be increased, when I see in that friend the Marquis Santa Cruz !" " The Marquis Santa Cruz !" repeated Mrs. Coningsby, in a tone of pleased surprise, and a glow on her cheek.

The pastor smiled — ' ' i our name, my lord, has long been with us. Fame had given it to the world at large ; but it was brought to our remote shores by your noble antagonist, Prince Eugene of Savoy." . . . With a bow to the implied compliment, the marquis inquired how recently the prince had been in England. "Not very lately," replied Mr. Athelstone ; "my acquaintance with his highness must be dated one-and-twenty years back; in the spring of 1704, when he came to England on a secret mission from the Emperor of Germany. Having gained our queen's con currence to support the Imperialists against Bavaria, Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough embarked for Holland. Stress of weather drove their vessel on this coast. I then inhabited Bam borough Castle, during the absence of my brother, the late Sir Headworth Athelstone ; and going to the beach to offer the usual assistance to distressed mariners, 1 discovered my friend, the duke, and his noble compeer, in two nameless personages.

They took up their residence with me tiU the tempest subsided, and it lasted many davs; but remainingunknown to the county, they gave the whole of their society to myself and my niece. It was then, my lord, that in discoursing on the great and good of. all countries, Prince Eugene named with friendship the Marquis Santa Cruz ; who, he said, had baffled his best military skill the preceding year mAn answering flash of generous admiration suffused the face of the marquis. " Eugene of Savoy," returned he, can afford such acknowledgments. And, that I did discover and baffle his designs before the dyke of Zero, I have ever considered the proudest fortune which has hitherto been granted to my military career, (since that period I have often met the prince, both in the held and m the cabinet ; and in every character, whether as soldier or as statesman, he has manifested that nobleness of soul which commands alike the confidence of friends and of enemies."

A blush overspread the fine, though matron features of Mrs. Coningsby. " Ah, my uncle," cried she, " why does not Louis hear this of your favourite hero ?" Oh ! he had been her own favourite hero in the romantic dream of her youth. She rose as she spoke, and left the room to inquire for the now young object of her 1T1TPT*PST " Doe's Mrs. Coningsby speak of her son ?" asked the marquis. " No," said the pastor, " the young man she alludes to is the son of her elder sister, now in a better world. His father you doubtless know ; the Baron de Ripperda." " I have not been in Spain these ten years," replied the marquis, " but I know the baron is now there ; and introducing plans of internal policy, worthy the emulation of his own times, and the gratitude of future ages. Before happy circumstances restored him to his country, it was never my good fortune to meet him in any of my accidental visits to the Netherlands."

Mr. Athelstone and his noble guest continued their discourse on the public history of the Baron de Ripperda ; the latter not refrain ing from loyal animadversions on the baron's father, Don Juan de Montemar, Duke de Ripperda ; who, in resentment for some slight from his sovereign, left Spain for the Netherlands ; and soon joining the United States of Holland, exchanged his Spanish rank for that of a northern baron. While the marquis regretted that the noble malcontent's son, the present illustrious Ripperda, had ever belonged to any other country than that of his ancestors, he expatiated with the pride of a Spaniard on the talents which were now reclaimed by their parent land. Mr. Athelstone, who had all the old-fashioned notions respecting amor patrice, rejoiced that the satisfactory accomplishment of Baron de Ripperda' s mission, as ambassador from the Netherlands to Madrid, had empowered him to sever him self with honour from that country ; and to resume his hereditary rights in Spain, in the manner best calculated to re-establish his house, and transmit the ancient glories of his family unimpaired to posterity.

While the pastor and his guests were engaged in this conversation, Ferdinand leaned exhausted in his chair, and had leisure to survey the domestic scene around him ; so different from the solitude he had anticipated in the condemned cell of the heretic cura of the island! From the window of the room in which he now sat, still issued the light he had seen from afar, and which had beaconed his weary steps to his present comfortable station by its source; a cheerful fire, and a cluster of blazing candles on its chimney-piece. Ferdinand could not have been so long in Italy without forming a taste in architecture, and he contemplated with admiring curiosity this specimen of Gothic workmanship. It was of a cinquefoil shape, supported by short columns on brackets, and adorned with a pro jecting frieze, on which stood the lighted branches, and alabaster vases full of autumnal flowers.

It appeared to have been translated from some building of older date ; and, indeed, little more than a century before, this very arch had mantled the abbot's hearth in the good monastery of Lindisfarne. Ferdinand looked next at the oak-panelled walls of the room, enlivened by a range of fine portraits in carved ebony frames ; and two miniatures in splendid gilt ones, immediately recognisable to be those of the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, both painted from memory by Mrs. Coningsby soon after their never forgotten visit to the parsonage ; and often, in her maturer years, she discoursed to her young nephew, on the virtues which had made their names great, and their characters beloved as Christian heroes. These precious memorials, with a cabinet of curious china, a harpsichord, a well-stored bookcase, and the usual complement of settees, chairs, and tables, completed the furniture.

He did not take so cursory a view of its inhabitants. The venerable master of the house sat on one side of the fireplace, talking with the marquis. His silvered hair and benign countenance, blanched and worn by seventy winters, seemed to announce how nearly the divine spirit within had shaken off its earthly tabernacle. The marquis had never before regarded an avowed minister of the Reformation, without a distance in his manner that proclaimed, " No fellowship !" but now he sat listening to the pastor with so cordial an air, that Ferdinand murmured to himself, " Ah ! my father, it is too late for your unhappy son, should your present feelings towards that good man, indeed/draw away its only prejudice from your noble heart !" He sighed heavily, and turned his attention to the other side of the room.

The sisters had withdrawn their chairs far from the fare-side circle, and were plying their needles with indefatigable diligence. Cornelia's raven hair was braided back from her polished brow, and confined in a knot with a gold bodkin. The majestic contour of her features suited well with her Roman name ; and the simplicity of the plain white garment in which she was arrayed harmonised with the modest dignity of a figure, which proclaimed in every movement, that nobility of soul needs no emblazoning from orna ment ! As her fair hand traversed the embroidery frame, Ferdinand turned from these lofty beauties to the gentle Alice ; whose charms, if of a feebler, were of a subtler force. Her head, which moved about rather oftener than her sister's, in search of silk, scissors, and needles, gave free scope to the contemplation of the young Spaniard.

She appeared several years younger than Cornelia. Her form was fairy in its proportions ; slight, airy, and apparently impalpable to aught but the touch of a sylph Her azure eyes, glancing around for what she sought, shone so lucidly bright from under her flaxen locks, that Ferdinand thought that he had never seen eyes so beautiful ; " Never," said he to himself, ' so divinely innocent ; never so irresistibly exhilarating." Some envenomed recollections caused him to withdraw his gaze, but he soon looked again upon Alice, and longed to hear her -speak, while a sudden self-gratulation on how fluently he could himself discourse in English, animated his before languid features. He observed her turn her head towards the yet uncurtained window. The moon was now holding her bright course in the heavens, with out meeting the passing shadow of a single cloud.

He seized on the opportunity to address the sisters, and remarked the beauty of the night. " It is calmer than usual, after so tempestuous a day, observed Cornelia. " I am glad the winds are quiet !" said Alice ; " for we may now look for Louis without fear of the breakers." Ferdinand inquired whether her cousin were to cross the sea that night. " We hope so," replied she ; " he went yesterday to Bamborough Castle ; and I am sure nothing but the storm prevented his returning to us this morning." " Whatever may be the attractions of Bamborough Castle," rejoined Ferdinand, "I cannot be surprised your cousin should prefer his home to all other places." He accompanied this remark with that sort of smile and bow to Alice, which a woman of the world would have understood as a compliment to herself; but Alice was too ignorant of the gallantries of fashionable society to see anything in this but the obvious meaning of the words.

Cornelia received the speech as her sister had done ; and exclaimed with a sigh, " I wish Louis did prefer his home to all other places!" " Why say that, Cornelia ?" said Alice ; " you know how he de spises the people he meets at the Castle ; and you cannot seriously doubt our dear Louis's preference of home to all other places !" Ferdinand did not perceive the grounds of conclusion which the fair Alice drew from her argument ; he admired, however, the brightening eyes with which she uttered her own conviction; though he could not forbear a doubting smile when he observed the anxious glance she cast towards the door, on a little noise in the hall, which occurred just as she concluded her last confident assertion. Cornelia did not reply, but with a gentle sigh pensively resumed her embroidery.

Alice now became confused, and regarding the silence of her sister as a reproof for having said so much before a stranger, she turned away her head, and with trembling hands recommenced her work. Ferdinand did not withdraw his eyes from the little table. He wished to see the fortunate cousin, upon whom those lovely sisters lavished so much solicitude ; and he was curious to know who the inhabitants of the Castle were, whose attractions could excite jealousy in young women so full of charms. While he was thus ruminating. Mrs. Coningsby entered, to lead her uncle's guests to the supper-room. Before they obeyed her hospitable summons, the marquis requested that he and his son might retire to disencumber themselves from their travelling ac coutrements ; and when they had withdrawn, the pastor took that inter-al to inform his niece and her daughters, that these noble Spaniards were to be his guests for some days.

He read, apart to Mrs. Coningsby, a passage in the Baron Hensius's letter, which mentioned that the health of Don Ferdinand d'Osorio, the mar quis's only son, was the primary object of his visit to England. It appeared, by this account, that on the marquis's recall from his diplomatic situation in Italy, he had proceeded to Vienna, to nego tiate, what afterwards turned out to be an unsuccessful mission. He had previously seized the opportunity of preliminary despatches from Italy, to send his son before him to visit his mother, the mar chioness's family, who resided in that city. But he soon saw reason to repent this indulgence. When the marquis arrived, he found the young man no longer himself. He had become the dupe of artifice ; and was bound to the Austrian capital with the most fatal bonds.

The distressed father knew no alternative, but to apply secretly to Spain for the royal mandate, to detach both himself and bis son on a seeming official tour. Distance, and change of objects, were what he aimed at for the unhappy youth ; and, taking Hol land in their course, when they reached Amsterdam, the physicians there recommended a sea voyage, and the bracing air of a still more northerly climate. Ferdinand was indifferent to what be came of him, and made no objection to visit Scotland and its borders. The marquis had recollected that Lindisfarne, the Holy Island of unnumbered saints, lay in the way ; and with parental inxiety, he formed a wish, which he communicated to Baron Hen -*ius, of propitiating a peculiar blessing on this part of his journey, by paying his vows at the shrine of St. Cuthbert.

"My friend warns me," continued the pastor, addressing his rounger nieces as well as their mother, " that the Marquis Santa -Cruz is a Roman Catholic in the strictest sense of the term ; that !-!iis mind, enlightened on every other subject, is here under a thick • iloud. He brings his son to this island, to touch the dead man's eiones, and be healed. Setting up a human relict, before the living Eresence of his Saviour, who has only to will it, and it is done ! h, my ohildren, here is a lesson to humble the pride of intellect, to fill you with awe before the Creator of your being, and the divine revealer of his word ! Reason and imagination, when hearkening to revelation, must be as a little child ! humble and intelligent ; eager to apprehend the simple truth, and ready to obey it. Such a little child as that which appeared with the doctors in the temple, hearing and asking them questions.

Mark you ! he did not then speak as one having authority ; but he came to hear and inquire. Tn all tilings he is our example ; and that example bids us search the Soriptures for truth ; and to apply to God alone, through one Mediator, for salvation here and hereafter." Mrs Coningsby did not answer her uncle, but pressed the hands of her listening laughters, who cast down their eyes in reverence of their beloveS teacher and his divine subject. Mr. Athelstone paused a few moments, and resumed. "The grand-pensionary, being aware how happy I should be to see the Marquis Santa Cruz, rather encouraged than dissuaded him from his purposed pilgrimage ; andnow he is here my dear nieces, we must do our best to welcome and to cheer both him and his son.^ "I thought the young Spanish nobleman looked very ill, observed Alice, in atone of pity; "he leaned so languidly in his chair ; and his large dark eyes moved so heavily, it seemed a labour for him to turn them even from me to my sister, though we sat close together.

Poor young man ! and how lundly he asked about Louis !— Did not you, Cornelia, think he looked ill ? "Indeed," said her sister, " I scarcely noticed his looks at all; which I am sorry for. He must have thought us most unfeelingly inattentive, to allow an invalid to sit so long in a hot room with that heavy cloak on." . . " I rather think the fault was mine," rejoined their mother ; but the remembrances of past days had totally obscured present objects. And as another proof of it, my dear sir," said she, turning to the pastor, " I had forgotten to tell you that the boatmen have just returned from Bamborough without Louis ; and bring this message from Sir Anthony, that his nephew will remain at the castle for some days longer." Further remarks were prevented by the re-entrance ol the tra vellers.

They were conducted by their hospitable host to the sup per-room; and after partaking of its northern fare with good appetites, Mrs. Coningsby led the marquis and his son to the door of their apartments, where she bade them adieu for the night.

Chapter II. The Parsonage

jfERDiNAND arose next morning at a late hour, refreshed and lighter in spirits than he had felt for a long time. The day was bright and balmy ; and when he descended to the breakfast-room, the marquis glanced at his renovated appearance, and inwardly ejaculated, " Already that cheerful countenance bears witness to the efficacy of this blessed spot !" The family of the pastor were assembled round the table ; Mrs. Coningsby presided over the dispersion of her fragrant tea ; and her daughters, blooming with the freshness of the dewy flowers, did the honours of the coffee and kneaded cakes. Social converse, aug menting in interest with its prolongation, succeeded the hospitable meal, till Mr. Athelstone observed Ferdinand turn his eyes wist fully towards the open window. The light foliage of the spruce, which bent towards it, floated into the room on the gentle im pulse of a soft south wind ; and the aromatic breath that fol lowed, seemed to be regarded by the young Spaniard as an invita tion to taste its fragrance nearer.

The pastor, who anticipated the ■wishes of invalids with the same solicitude he would administer 3 salutary medicine, turned to his young nieces, and desired thej would put on their hats, and introduce Don Ferdinad to their Michaelmas daisies. The ladies withdrew ; and Ferdinand, not requiring a second permission, was soon in the little porch, ready to accompany his fair conductors. The youthful party had scarcely withdrawn, before a note was brought from Bamborough Castle. It was in answer to one the pastor had despatched that morning to Sir Anthony Athelstone, to explain the necessity of Louis's immediate return to the island. Mr. Athelstone took the letter, and read as follows : — " To the Rev. Richard Athelstone. "Sir Anthony Athelstone is very sensible of the respect due to his reverend uncle, and to his noble guests ; but Louis de Montemar being engaged with a hunting party, it is impossible he can have the honour of waiting upon them."

"Bamborough Castle, Saturday Morn.*' "I believe, sir," said the old servant who had delivered the letter, "the Duke of Wharton is at the castle." At this intimation an unusual colour spread over the face of Mr. Athelstone. "Peter, that cannot be!" Peter bowed his grey head, and respectfully answered, — "The lad, sir, who brought that note, told me a fine duke from foreign parts, with a company of ladies and gentlemen, came yesterday through all the storm to the castle : and they were so merry and frolicsome, they sat up all night singing outlandish songs, which the butler, Thomas, who understands tongues, told him were arrant Jacobite." Mr. Athelstone rose hastily from his seat. "Peter, I am afraid you are right." Peter bowed again, and withdrew. Mr. Athel stone re-seated himself, in evident discomposure.

"I remember the Duke of Wharton eight years ago in Paris," said the marquis. " I think it was in the summer of 1716. _ He was then a very young man, hardly of age ; certainly not arrived at the years of discretion ; for, with a genius that equalled him in some respects to the maturest minds in France, he was perpetually reminding us of his real juvenility by the boyish extravagance his passions. I have since heard that time has not tamed them." "It seldom does," exclaimed the pastor, "when the reins have once been given to their impulse. Oh, my dear lord, wherever human passion is, there the law of reason and lawless appetite con tend like Satan and the archangel. Duke Wharton has yielded the mastery to the ill spirit ; and he is the less pardonable, his intellec tual endowments being equal to much resistance.