nothing but fast and pray, if we are not to drink and swear according
to our degree?"

The lady was silent, for she well knew speech availed nothing; and,
after a moment's pause, proceeded to intimate to the steward that she
would have the persons, whose names were marked in a written paper,
which she delivered to him, invited to the approaching banquet.

Whitaker, instead of receiving the list with the mute acquiescence of
a modern Major Domo, carried it into the recess of one of the windows,
and, adjusting his spectacles, began to read it to himself. The first
names, being those of distinguished Cavalier families in the
neighbourhood, he muttered over in a tone of approbation--paused and
pshawed at that of Bridgenorth--yet acquiesced, with the observation,
"But he is a good neighbour, so it may pass for once." But when he
read the name and surname of Nehemiah Solsgrace, the Presbyterian
parson, Whitaker's patience altogether forsook him; and he declared he
would as soon throw himself into Eldon-hole,[*] as consent that the
intrusive old puritan howlet, who had usurped the pulpit of a sound
orthodox divine, should ever darken the gates of Martindale Castle by
any message or mediation of his.

[*] A chasm in the earth supposed to be unfathomable, one of the
wonders of the Peak.

"The false crop-eared hypocrites," cried he, with a hearty oath, "have
had their turn of the good weather. The sun is on our side of the
hedge now, and we will pay off old scores, as sure as my name is
Richard Whitaker."