Author: | William Harrison Ainsworth | ISBN: | 1230000139116 |
Publisher: | WDS Publishing | Publication: | June 5, 2013 |
Imprint: | Language: | English |
Author: | William Harrison Ainsworth |
ISBN: | 1230000139116 |
Publisher: | WDS Publishing |
Publication: | June 5, 2013 |
Imprint: | |
Language: | English |
Late one night, in the disastrous year 1642, soon after the commencement of the Civil War, as Lord Strange was alone in his closet at Knowsley Hall, reading a treatise by Cardan, blood fell suddenly upon the book. Being in a very melancholy frame of mind at the time, he was powerfully affected by the occurrence, and could not help regarding it as a presage of ill.
As soon as he had recovered his composure, he addressed a prayer to Heaven for the safety and welfare of the king, and his own preservation from sudden and violent death, and had not long risen from his knees, when a tap at the door was heard, and next moment, a grave-looking person-age, whose dress proclaimed him a divine, entered the closet.
This was Doctor Samuel Rutter, Archdeacon of Man, and Lord Strange's domestic chaplain. He had been absent for some months, having duties to perform in the Isle of Man, and had only returned on that very evening. He had seen his noble patron on his arrival at Knowsley Hall, and thought him looking very unwell, but little passed between them at the time. After they had separated for the night, an unaccountable uneasiness came over him, and being unable to shake off the feeling, he repaired to his lordship's study, being aware that he had not retired to rest, and was much relieved by finding him seated composedly in his chair.
"Now Heaven be praised that I find your lord-ship well!" exclaimed the archdeacon. "I have been much troubled concerning you, and could not seek my couch till I had satisfied my mind that you had not been seized by some sudden illness."
Thanking him for his solicitude, Lord Strange said, "In truth, I have not been well, but am now somewhat better. Sit down, I pray you, my good friend. I shall be glad to have some converse with you."
As Doctor Rutter placed his taper on the table, his eye fell upon the blood- stained book, and he uttered an exclamation of astonishment and horror.
"Has this just happened, my lord?" he asked.
"Scarce half an hour ago," replied Lord Strange. "Shut the book, I pray you, and put it aside."
Doctor Rutter obeyed, and remarked, as he sat down:
"This portent must not be disregarded, my lord. Be warned, I entreat you. Take no further part in the conflict between the king and the rebellious Parliament, but live in quiet and retirement till the struggle is over. I know my counsel will be unpalatable, but it is prompted by duty to your lord-ship. After the spectacle I have just beheld, I cannot hold my tongue. Be warned, I repeat. Advance not on this path of danger, or it may lead to your destruction. You may share the fate of Strafford."
Late one night, in the disastrous year 1642, soon after the commencement of the Civil War, as Lord Strange was alone in his closet at Knowsley Hall, reading a treatise by Cardan, blood fell suddenly upon the book. Being in a very melancholy frame of mind at the time, he was powerfully affected by the occurrence, and could not help regarding it as a presage of ill.
As soon as he had recovered his composure, he addressed a prayer to Heaven for the safety and welfare of the king, and his own preservation from sudden and violent death, and had not long risen from his knees, when a tap at the door was heard, and next moment, a grave-looking person-age, whose dress proclaimed him a divine, entered the closet.
This was Doctor Samuel Rutter, Archdeacon of Man, and Lord Strange's domestic chaplain. He had been absent for some months, having duties to perform in the Isle of Man, and had only returned on that very evening. He had seen his noble patron on his arrival at Knowsley Hall, and thought him looking very unwell, but little passed between them at the time. After they had separated for the night, an unaccountable uneasiness came over him, and being unable to shake off the feeling, he repaired to his lordship's study, being aware that he had not retired to rest, and was much relieved by finding him seated composedly in his chair.
"Now Heaven be praised that I find your lord-ship well!" exclaimed the archdeacon. "I have been much troubled concerning you, and could not seek my couch till I had satisfied my mind that you had not been seized by some sudden illness."
Thanking him for his solicitude, Lord Strange said, "In truth, I have not been well, but am now somewhat better. Sit down, I pray you, my good friend. I shall be glad to have some converse with you."
As Doctor Rutter placed his taper on the table, his eye fell upon the blood- stained book, and he uttered an exclamation of astonishment and horror.
"Has this just happened, my lord?" he asked.
"Scarce half an hour ago," replied Lord Strange. "Shut the book, I pray you, and put it aside."
Doctor Rutter obeyed, and remarked, as he sat down:
"This portent must not be disregarded, my lord. Be warned, I entreat you. Take no further part in the conflict between the king and the rebellious Parliament, but live in quiet and retirement till the struggle is over. I know my counsel will be unpalatable, but it is prompted by duty to your lord-ship. After the spectacle I have just beheld, I cannot hold my tongue. Be warned, I repeat. Advance not on this path of danger, or it may lead to your destruction. You may share the fate of Strafford."