“I would not intrude on you, Senhor,” said the
stranger, with an air of grave interest which Aliaga had never seen him
assume before--“I would not intrude on you with a narrative in which you
can feel but little interest, were I not conscious that its relation may
operate as a warning the most awful, salutary, and efficacious to
yourself.”--“Me!” exclaimed Don Francisco, revolting with all the horror
of an orthodox Catholic at the sound.--“Me!” he repeated, uttering a
dozen ejaculations to the saints, and making the sign of the cross twice
that number of times.--“Me!” he continued, discharging a whole volley of
fulmination against all those who, being entangled in the snares of
Satan, sought to draw others into them, whether in the shape of heresy,
witchcraft, or otherwise. It might be observed, however, that he laid
most stress on heresy, the latter evil, from the rigour of their
mythology, or other causes, which it were not unworthy philosophical
curiosity to inquire into, being almost unknown in Spain;--and he
uttered this protestation (which was doubtless very sincere) with such a
hostile and denunciatory tone, that Satan, if he was present, (as the
speaker half imagined), would have been almost justified in making
reprisals. Amid the assumed consequence which passion, whether natural
or artificial, always gives to a man of mediocrity, he felt himself
withering in the wild laugh of the stranger. “You,--you!” he exclaimed,
after a burst of sound that seemed rather like the convulsion of a
demoniac, than the mirth, however frantic, of a human being--“you!--oh,
there’s metal more attractive! Satan himself, however depraved, has a
better taste than to crunch such a withered scrap of orthodoxy as you
between his iron teeth. No!--the interest I alluded to as possible for
you to feel, refers to another one, for whom you ought to feel if
possible more than for yourself. Now, worthy Aliaga, your personal fears
being removed, sit and listen to my tale. You are sufficiently
acquainted, through the medium of commercial feelings, and the general
information which your habits have forced on you, with the history and
manners of those heretics who inhabit the country called England.”

“Don Francisco, as a merchant, avouched his knowledge of their being
fair dealers, and wealthy liberal speculators in trade; but (crossing
himself frequently) he pronounced his utter detestation of them as
enemies to the holy church, and implored the stranger to believe that he
would rather renounce the most advantageous contract he had ever made
with them in the mercantile line, than be suspected of---- “I suspect
nothing,” said the stranger, interrupting him, with that smile that
spoke darker and bitterer things than the fiercest frown that ever
wrinkled the features of man.--“Interrupt me no more,--listen, as you
value the safety of a being of more value than all your race beside. You
are acquainted tolerably with the English history, and manners, and
habits; the latter events of their history are indeed in the mouths of
all Europe.” Aliaga was silent, and the stranger proceeded. The Lovers’ Tale. “In a part of that heretic country lies a portion of land they call
Shropshire, (“I have had dealings with Shrewsbury merchants,” said
Aliaga to himself, “they furnished goods, and paid bills with
distinguished punctuality,”)--there stood Mortimer Castle, the seat of a
family who boasted of their descent from the age of the Norman
Conqueror, and had never mortgaged an acre, or cut down a tree, or
lowered a banner on their towers at the approach of a foe, for five
hundred years. Mortimer castle had held out during the wars of Stephen
and Matilda,--it had even defied the powers that summoned it to
capitulation alternately, (about once a week), during the struggle
between the houses of York and Lancaster,--it had also disdained the
summons of Richard and Richmond, as their successive blasts shook its
battlements, while the armies of the respective leaders advanced to the
field of Bosworth. The Mortimer family, in fact, by their power, their
extensive influence, their immense wealth, and the independency of their
spirit, had rendered themselves formidable to every party, and superior
to all. “At the time of the Reformation, Sir Roger Mortimer, the descendant of
this powerful family, vigorously espoused the cause of the Reformers;
and when the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood sent their usual
dole, at Christmas, of beef and ale to their tenants, Sir Roger, with
his chaplain attending him, went about from cottage to cottage,
distributing Bibles in English, of the edition printed by Tyndal in
Holland. But his loyalism prevailed so far, that he circulated along
with them the uncouth print, cut out of his own copy, of the King (Henry
VIII.) dispensing copies of the Bible from both hands, which the people,
as represented in the engraving, caught at with theirs, and seemed to
devour as the word of life, almost before it could reach them. “In the short reign of Edward, the family was protected and cherished;
and the godly Sir Edmund, son and successor to Sir Roger, had the Bible
laid open in his hall window, that while his domestics passed on their
errands, as he expressed himself,--“he that runs may read.” In that of
Mary, they were oppressed, confiscated, and menaced. Two of their
servants were burned at Shrewsbury; and it was said that nothing but a
large sum, advanced to defray the expences of the entertainments made at
Court on the arrival of Philip of Spain, saved the godly Sir Edmund from
the same fate. “Sir Edmund, to whatever cause he owed his safety, did not enjoy it
long. He had seen his faithful and ancient servants brought to the
stake, for the opinions he had taught them,--he had attended them in
person to the awful spot, and seen the Bibles he had attempted to place
in their hands flung into the flames, as they were kindled round
them,--he had turned with tottering steps from the scene, but the crowd,
in the triumph of their barbarity, gathered round, and kept him close,
so that he not only involuntarily witnessed the whole spectacle, but
felt the very heat of the flames that were consuming the bodies of the
sufferers. Sir Edmund returned to Mortimer Castle, and died. “His successor, during the reign of Elizabeth, stoutly defended the
rights of the Reformers, and sometimes grumbled at those of prerogative. These grumblings were said to have cost him dear--the court of purveyors
charged him £.3000, an enormous sum in those days, for an expected visit
of the Queen and her court--a visit which was never paid. The money was,
however, paid; and it was said that Sir Orlan de Mortimer raised part of
the money by disposing of his falcons, the best in England, to the Earl
of Leicester, the _then_ favourite of the Queen.