[Peveril of the Peak by Sir Walter Scott]@TWC D-Link bookPeveril of the Peak CHAPTER X 9/17
This was the more probable, considering that he was melancholy by constitution and descent--that he had been unfortunate in several particulars--and that no passion is more easily nursed by indulgence, than the species of enthusiasm of which he now showed tokens.
She therefore answered him by calmly hoping, "That the expression of his sentiments had not involved him in suspicion or in danger." "In suspicion, madam ?" answered the Major;--"for I cannot forbear giving to you, such is the strength of habit, one of those idle titles by which we poor potsherds are wont, in our pride, to denominate each other--I walk not only in suspicion, but in that degree of danger, that, were your husband to meet me at this instant--me, a native Englishman, treading on my own lands--I have no doubt he would do his best to offer me to the Moloch of Roman superstition, who now rages abroad for victims among God's people." "You surprise me by your language, Major Bridgenorth," said the lady, who now felt rather anxious to be relieved from his company, and with that purpose walked on somewhat hastily.
He mended his pace, however, and kept close by her side. "Know you not," said he, "that Satan hath come down upon earth with great wrath, because his time is short? The next heir to the crown is an avowed Papist; and who dare assert, save sycophants and time-servers, that he who wears it is not equally ready to stoop to Rome, were he not kept in awe by a few noble spirits in the Commons' House? You believe not this--yet in my solitary and midnight walks, when I thought on your kindness to the dead and to the living, it was my prayer that I might have the means granted to warn you--and lo! Heaven hath heard me." "What I was while in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity, it signifies not to recall," answered he.
"I was then like to Gallio, who cared for none of these things.
I doted on creature comforts--I clung to worldly honour and repute--my thoughts were earthward--or those I turned to Heaven were cold, formal, pharisaical meditations--I brought nothing to the altar save straw and stubble.
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