Hear what songs some of them are singing at the tap!--so take Dobbin, and do not forget to leave your own horse instead." Peveril waited to hear no farther, only, that just as he turned to go off to the stable, the compassionate female was heard to exclaim--"O Lord! what will Matthew Chamberlain say!" but instantly added, "Let him say what he will, I may dispose of what's my own." With the haste of a double-fee'd hostler did Julian exchange the equipments of his jaded brute with poor Dobbin, who stood quietly tugging at his rackful of hay, without dreaming of the business which was that night destined for him.

Notwithstanding the darkness of the place, Julian succeeded marvellous quickly in preparing for his journey; and leaving his own horse to find its way to Dobbin's rack by instinct, he leaped upon his new acquisition, and spurred him sharply against the hill, which rises steeply from the village to the Castle.

Dobbin, little accustomed to such exertions, snorted, panted, and trotted as briskly as he could, until at length he brought his rider before the entrance-gate of his father's ancient seat.
The moon was now rising, but the portal was hidden from its beams, being situated, as we have mentioned elsewhere, in a deep recess betwixt two large flanking towers.

Peveril dismounted, turned his horse loose, and advanced to the gate, which, contrary to his expectation, he found open.
He entered the large courtyard; and could then perceive that lights yet twinkled in the lower part of the building, although he had not before observed them, owing to the height of the outward walls.

The main door, or great hall-gate, as it was called, was, since the partially decayed state of the family, seldom opened, save on occasions of particular ceremony.