Chapter 17 - Page 2

that I recommended
to your particular charge, d'ye hear?"

"Yes, my lord." Lockhard vanished; and the Keeper continued, as if half
speaking to himself.

"I think the papers are with me--I think so, for, as I was to be in
this country, it was natural for me to bring them with me. I have them,
however, at Ravenswood Castle, that I am sure; so perhaps you might
condescend----"

Here Lockhard entered, and put the leathern scrutoire, or mail-box,
into his hands. The Keeper produced one or two papers, respecting the
information laid before the privy council concerning the riot, as it was
termed, at the funeral of Allan Lord Ravenswood, and the active share he
had himself taken in quashing the proceedings against the Master. These
documents had been selected with care, so as to irritate the natural
curiosity of Ravenswood upon such a subject, without gratifying it, yet
to show that Sir William Ashton had acted upon that trying occasion
the part of an advocate and peacemaker betwixt him and the jealous
authorities of the day. Having furnished his host with such subjects for
examination, the Lord Keeper went to the breakfast-table, and entered
into light conversation, addressed partly to old Caleb, whose resentment
against the usurper of the Castle of Ravenswood began to be softened by
his familiarity, and partly to his daughter.

After perusing these papers, the Master of Ravenswood remained for
a minute or two with his hand pressed against his brow, in deep and
profound meditation. He then again ran his eye hastily over the papers,
as if desirous of discovering in them some deep purpose, or some mark
of fabrication, which had escaped him at first perusal. Apparently the
second reading confirmed the opinion which had pressed upon him at the
first, for he started from the stone bench on which he was sitting,
and, going to the Lord Keeper, took his hand, and, strongly pressing it,
asked his pardon repeatedly for the injustice he had done him, when it
appeared he was experiencing, at his hands, the benefit of protection to
his person and vindication to his character.

The statesman received these acknowledgments at first with well-feigned
surprise, and then with an affectation of frank cordiality. The tears
began already to start from Lucy's blue eyes at viewing this unexpected
and moving scene. To see the Master, late so haughty and reserved, and
whom she had always supposed the injured person, supplicating her
father for forgiveness, was a change at once surprising, flattering, and
affecting.

"Dry your eyes, Lucy," said her father; "why should you weep, because
your father, though a lawyer, is discovered to be a fair and honourable
man? What