Godey's Lady's Book - Jan. 1850</head> <BODY bgcolor=#c0dcc0 > <p align = center> <big>GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK</big><br> <small>Philadelphia, January 1850</small><br><img vspace=5 src="../ad/fline.gif"></p> <p align=center><center><big>ALLONDALE PRIORY.</big><br> BY J. F. OTIS.<br><br> CHAPTER I.</p></center> <p> A YOUNG man of high birth and large fortune was startled, one day, in the midst of a season of great gayety, by a communication from the steward of one of his largest estates, stating the impossibility of remitting the sums required from thence. Various reasons were given, plausible, but not satisfactory,' and he had barely time to arrive at the conclusion that " something was rotten in the state of Den- marl;," before he received another letter from one of his well-wishing friends, which might have been an anonymous one for anything he knew of the signature. John Powell, however, stated, in very plain terms, that affairs were sadly wrong in Northumberland; that the steward had grown rich, while all the tenants were growing very poor; and that it would be the greatest blessing if "the master" would make a journey down, just to see, with his own eyes, how things were going.<p> There were many cogent reasons for the adoption of the advice contained in this homely letter. It was the end of the London season; or, at least, of the term of a possible residence there by an exclusive; and if a watering-place, or s sojourn at a country-seat were resorted to, either was equally expensive, and money, alas! was scarce. The weather was beautiful, and it would be something new to ramble amid the wilds of Northumberland; a place hitherto overlooked by tourists for the more popular beauties of the lakes. The Tyne, the Till, and the Tweed, were rivers so famous in song, that it was almost heresy in taste not to have seen them; and still worse, that his ancestral domains should never have been visited. All this was now to be redressed; so, bidding adieu to bright eyes that streamed with tears, the young' possessor of many estates took but a single domestic, and, traveling post, soon found himself in one of the most romantic districts of truly romantic Northumberland.<p> His own affairs were the first thought of the dispirited traveler; they were all worse than he could possibly have expected, and so involved in knavish chicanery, that redemption from the wide-spreading ruin seemed almost a hopeless task. Happily, he had arrived at a moment quite unexpected by the intriguing steward, and was, by this means, able to detect more of his villainy than ever would have otherwise come to light. Happily, also, honest John Powell was easily found; just so rich as to care for no one, and just so sturdy as to acknowledge his letter without a moment's hesitation; extending his information to subjects of the utmost importance; and, from his local knowledge of the country, having it in his power to give much useful advice.<p> Some few evils were redressed at the moment. The steward was obliged to give his accounts into the hands of a lawyer of high reputation in the neighborhood, who was henceforth to transact all the business of the estate; and «the master" was so well pleased with the place and its scenery, that he resolved upon spending a large portion of every year in the midst of these unsophisticated beings, for the purpose of attending to their comforts and wall-doing. It was not until as much was done as was possible on the instant, that this young gentle- man thought himself at liberty to explore the retired parts of the romantic district; and it was not until he found himself among the secluded tarns or lakes, or amid the wild solitude of the hills – as the natives call their mountains – that he began to reflect deeply on the nature of his past life, or attach so much importance to the future. An orphan almost from his birth, his guardians had attended scrupulously to his property and to his academic hours. On his arriving at a legal majority, he had traveled in the south of Europe with more benefit than many others do; for he had not merely galloped through Italy, or, when in the principal cities of other states, rushed into dissipation with numbers of his countrymen. He had, it is true, been more prodigal of his money than of his time; but he had avoided the gaming-table and the destructive haunts of vicious indulgence. Still, he had done no good. The vast ruins of ready money that his coming of age had put into his hands – sums accumulating during his long minority – how had he spent them? He was afraid to pursue the subject too far, And the cherished of his heart –she who seemed to live but in his presence – would she have loved him out of the whirl of dissipation into which he plunged for her sake? Would she be content to live in these sublime solitudes because they were not Italy, but simply Northumberland? Would she still love him with a diminished income? He could not look the subject steadily in the face, but turned to the dim, gleaming tarn, the blue mountain, the majestic forest, and hoped that her exquisite taste would be charmed with their sublimity, and that she would delight to join him in the new luxury.– of doing good. Time alone would disclose how all this might be answered. After seeing all that has been rendered prominent by historical or poetic association, the traveler turned his steps towards the south of England; journeying slowly, well-mounted – for the sake of occasionally diverging – and still accompanied by his trusty domestic. <p> It was on the evening of a one day in August, that the two horsemen had reached one of those picturesque hamlets found in most counties, especially in the north, when e small dog, barking furiously, sprang over a cottage fence, and startled the foremost horse so as instantly to throw his rider with considerable force. The servant alighted, and found, to his infinite consternation, that a leg was broken by the fall. A. woman came out of the cottage, who, to his great joy, spoke a language to be understood – a circumstance not always certain among the Northumbrian peasantry. When she learned the extent of the misfortune, she begged him to suffer her to place pillows under the gentleman's head, but by no means to move him farther till proper aid could be obtained; and she immediately dispatched a boy for the rector of the village, whose low, white house was seen on a swelling lawn, sheltered by a grove at a short distance.<p> "Our good Mr. Egremont," said the woman, " knows better than we do what is right on such an occasion. It is many miles to the doctor's, but I hope we shall be able to prevent any mischief coming from this sad accident."<p> Martin, in his impatience, went a few steps to meet a man of very dignified appearance, to tell him that his master, Mr. Eden, had an estate not many miles distant from thence, and to beg his advice and assistance. Mr. Egremont smiled at the idea of its being necessary for him to be told who it was in order to insure his ready aid – a proof, to the London-bred Martin, that he was not very conversant in the ways of the world.<p> It was not the work of many minutes to cut off the tight 'boot, and to ascertain that it was only a simple fracture; which, with good Mrs., Fuller's assistance, it was possible to reduce and bind up before any attempts were made to alter the position of the patient. The next thing was to dispatch Martin on the fleetest' horse for a surgeon. Before he mounted, he offered to put a purse into Mr. Egremont's hand; but he was assured it was not needed, as he would, on his return, find his master carefully attended at the rectory. Four stout men were soon found; and a door, with additional pillows and blankets, formed the means of careful removal to one of the simple parlors of the low-roofed cottage, where Mr. Egremont resolved no other step should be taken until medical aid arrived. Gently as all the movements were made, Mr. Eden had a slight swoon; from which, when he partially recovered, he had the dreamy sensation of bright forms flitting about his temporary couch, and soft tones ringing in his ears. On his perfect recovery, however, only the tall form of Mr. Egremont and the more simple figure of the female peasant, were near him<p> When the surgeon arrived, he pronounced everything to have been done with the utmost propriety, and that nothing more was needed now but to keep off fever. This did not seem to be quite so easy. There was evidently a tendency to irritability, with the apparent contradiction of great depression. After some professional hesitation, the man of science was induced to stay with his patient till this could be allayed. Mr. Eden was carefully removed to an adjoining room, and kept for many days under the strictest regimen, with the good nursing of Mrs. Fuller.<p> In the silence and seclusion of this neatest of all cottages, Mr. Eden had ample time to pursue his former rejections. With the sufferings of some of his tenants full on his mind, he again asked himself for what purpose he had hitherto existed. For the benefit of others? Certainly not; since his own people, who had the strongest claims on him, had been robbed and oppressed without his interference. For his own happiness or comfort? No; for, to mention only his property, it had been wasted and was much diminished. What might be the result of all this, no one could tell. He had time to plan and to resolve, and he did not neglect the opportunity.<p> The hours of tedium were relieved by occasional visits from Mr. Egremont, and soon the window curtains were permitted to be drawn aside, that nature, in her trim habit, might cheer the sight. Mr. Eden did not expect so much taste in the arrangement of a garden in this remote district. What was called a cottage ornee in the south of England, had often disgusted him by its pretensions, and always offended him by its incongruity. He thought himself quite secure here of seeing neither tabourets, ottomans, or chaise lounges, the first with coats of arms worked on worsted, and the others with draperies suited to a palace. Surely here would not be the table spread with satin cushions, watch-cases, and bad miniatures, or motre clocks, and all the nick-nackeries of little minds. He was somewhat alarmed when he heard a few notes of music swelling and dying away with the breeze. He hoped it was some itinerant, for he would not have pretension of any kind amid so much simplicity; it would absolutely destroy the whole character of the place. Again he heard it in the remote distance, but he laughed at the fancy that could conjure up strains impossible to be found in a hamlet of the very wildest county in England, where the dialect was so much mixed up with Scotticisms as to make it almost unintelligible. "But how is it," thought he, "that Mr. Egremont speaks such pure English? No doubt from his classical education."<p> In a few days, he was certain that music was borne on the airs of heaven; and, moreover, it was Italian music – such as he had heard when the daughters of a duchess condescended and even vied for the honor of performing for the amusement of crowded rooms, in a way that had pained and disgusted him. Rut there were no duchesses here or their daughters. From whence, then, such strain.',? He questioned the nurse, but she was very busy at that moment, and he obtained no answer. The next time Mr. Egremont visited him, he asked smilingly if fairies haunted that remote place, for that he had heard a few notes of music that might be deemed aerial. Mr. Egremont said he was glad to see him smile, but promised their rude notes .should not annoy him again. Mr. Eden protested against this, and bogged to know who were the musicians.<p> "My daughters amuse themselves sometimes," said Mr. Egremont; "but I really thought we had taken every precaution against the sounds reaching you."<p> "I shall be sorry if I am any restraint to your family in any way. I wish I might be permitted to join you, even if it should be on a couch."<p> "I have obtained leave from the doctor for you to be removed into the next room, where you will, at least, have books to amuse you."<p> This, Mr. Eden found, was a not very small library; and here, after some little time, the small family met to take their meals. On his first introduction to two girls about the age of eighteen and nineteen, Mr. Eden only observed their extreme simplicity of dress, and a certain dignified, retiring manner, much like that of their father. His mind being so much pre-occupied, he did not ask himself whether they were handsome, elegant, or accomplished; he did not even ask them to play, nor did<p> they offer to do so; but on learning, by accident, that they abstained from music lest they should annoy or fatigue him, he assured Mr. Egremont that, if any restrictions were laid on the family by his remaining, he would, at whatever risk, immediately remove to an inn. At certain hours from this time, he heard, in another room, sounds of the sweetest and most scientific description, evidently in the way of a daily habit.<p> Much conversation now passed between the two gentlemen; arid Mr. Eden heard that, when this good rector canoe first into the parish, be found a brutalized, depressed set of inhabitants, and that it had been his constant care to raise as well as reform them.<p> "I could not do so much," said Mr. Egremont, "but for the assistance of my daughters. It is astonishing how soon a female will win her way into a heart that seems inaccessible."<p> "Alas!" cried Mr. Eden, thinking of his own tenantry, "what can such delicate young women do among the rude peasants of these hamlets?"<p> "When you are better, you shall see. Mine are good girls – pardon the vanity of a father – they love their duties, and persevere faithfully in them."<p> The Greek and Arabic of which these gentlemen sometimes spoke, was much easier to Mr. Eden than the comprehension how two such girls, breathing melody and unconsciously exhibiting grace in every movement, could walk into such hovels as he had seen, and there even direct a change to be made. I-lad he known how often they lent a helping hand to improvement, and what their uniform example effected, he would have been still more bewildered.<p> "I beg you to forgive my skepticism," said he; "but when I anxiously looked to the, minister and his family on my own estate, I found aim immersed in sloth – a good man, certainly, but a most inefficient one – his wife ignorant of everything but dress, the management of her house and her table. The daughters were still worse than their mother. I used to find them full-dressed, reading novels, immediately after breakfast. They all seemed to think the poorer farmers and the industrious cottagers as a different race of beings from themselves, and unworthy notice or even a thought."<p> "Ah," said Mr. Egremont, "such a family is ruin in any parish. We feel the ill effects of having some such neighbors; but we vigorously strive to counteract the evil."<p> An unusual noise was at this moment heard in the hall.<p> "And here comes one as a specimen. I declare to you, Mr. Eden, we should not admit this young lady and her two great dogs into our quiet cottage, were it not for the sake of her worthy uncle, and the hope that we are curing her of some of her folly."<p> Mr. Egremont then left the room; and a voice – not a very gentle one – was heard.<p> "Bevis, keep on the mat! Oscar, lie down! You wretches, you dirty the whole floor! If you are not more quiet I will not take you out again!<p> Bevis, do not tear Mr. Egremont to pieces! Keep down, will you! Ah, you know, my dear sir, he is so glad to see you! And to think of his being able to reach your shoulders!"<p> The door of a room next to the library now admitted this lady to the presence of the Misses Egremont; and she immediately exclaimed –<p> "And so, you have got such a handsome, interesting<p> "Hush! hush!" came instantly from more voices than one; and, after some commonplace observations, amidst the noise of the riotous dogs, a loud whisper was heard –<p> "Oh! I am dying to see him!"<p> Evidently to put an end to conversation, Miss Egremont had the harp brought in; and the visitor, though eager to display her powers, yet made disqualifying speeches,<p> "Oh!, I am so <i>petite</i> in my figure! You look so divine at the harp. Yet I will try, as there is no one here now to see me."<p> "Then try your best <i>piano</i> style," said Miss Egremont. "Remember, your good uncle says noise is not music."<p> "My uncle has so little taste, I wonder at your quoting him."<p> "He may not have what is called taste now-a-days'," said Mr. Egremont, "but he has a fund of good sense."<p> The lady sat down to the harp, and accompanied it by her voice. Mr. Eden gave Mrs. Fuller a signal to wheel his sofa back into the bed-room, where, under pretence of arranging his dress, he remained with the door shut till the hour of dinner.<p> <p align=center><center>CHAPTER II.</p></center><p> MR. EDEN was compelled to undergo the ceremony of introduction to Miss Armytage, a short, plump girl, with a really pretty face – had she been content to let it remain as nature made it; but, being a great reader, she had found out that small mouths and large eyes were the prescriptive right of all heroines; her lips were, therefore, put into form as if, like Miss Allscrip, in the beautiful old play of the "Heiress," she was practicing to say, <i>"nimine primine;"</i> and her eyes, distended to an unmeaning stare, often showed more than the upper part of the pupil. With all this, the lady was s <i>bas bleu;</i> and knowing Mr. .Eden was from the emporium of taste, no effort on the side of the rector's family could keep her from attacking him on the subject of literature. Mr. Eden was a reserved man – he might be a proud one – and as his conversations with Mr. Egremont had been only on the very highest authors, he might have a contempt for modern poetry. All one to Miss Armytage. Much more intent on showing her own learning than fathoming the depth of his, she ran through numberless unconnected questions, and finished up with asking if he did not doat on Byron. Mr. Eden smiled, for be remembered the line,<p align=center> " I hate a dumpy woman",<p> "Ah, you are laughing at my enthusiasm. Well, I own the fact. I am an enthusiast; I am almost romantic. I am never weary of Byron, let the prudes say what they will. Other poets I may sometimes find obscure, but to his ideas mine jump so instantaneously, that they almost seem to be my own!"<p> Miss Egremont, now really uneasy, withdrew the lady to the garden, under pretence of showing her some new botanical specimen; and Mr. Egremont begged his guest to attribute her oddities to an imperfect education and total seclusion from the world. "Her uncle," added he, "with whom she resides, has an equal share of oddity, but is a character of a different stamp, and a worthy, good man, He will probably be here in the evening, and you will he amused at the strong contrast."<p> According to his usual custom, Mr. Armytage, with truly parental care, came to conduct his niece home – a plain, elderly man, who had never changed the fashion of his dress since he was twenty-one, and presented a figure Mr. Eden had never seen in life except on the stage. Yet, notwithstanding his rolled stockings, long waistcoat, and large cuffs to his coat, there was something venerable and respectable in his appearance. He looked like a man content with his years, and enjoying the calm that virtuous age is sure to bring. After the usual salutations to the party, he turned to his niece, saying-"Well, Annie, are you ready to go home?"<p> "Well, now, that is so like you, uncle – calling me Annie when you know my name is Anastasia, and asking me to go home when there is yet a full hour of daylight."<p> "Why, as to your name, it is a very foolish one; and for the daylights we shall avoid the dews."<p> "Oh, I love the hour after sunset, when all the landscape is softened by mist!" and the lady was proceeding in a most poetic strain, which the uncle cut short by gruffly telling her she might be very fond of colds and fevers, too, but he was not – intimating that when she was ill, he found her very fretful; and that when his turn came, he found her a bad nurse. To stop these plain hints, she asked if Mr. Eden had seen the Miss Egremonts' drawings;<p> "Certainly not," was the answer of Mary, the eldest. "Those who are accustomed to the best productions of the day would but be fatigued by the sight of unfinished sketches."<p> "I believe they are better than yours, though, Annie," broke in the incorrigible uncle; "for one of your cows had but three legs; and your castles are all upon the principle of the leaning tower at Pisa."<p> "Yet," said Mr. Egremont, "Miss Armytage must have same employment for her leisure hours: and excellence in drawing is only to be obtained by practice. She should rather be encouraged than too severely criticised."<p> "Better spin and weave, as her mother and grand- mother did. But what now!" he exclaimed, as Bevis, rising from his slumbers, stretched up his huge form near him. "What! have you been hunting, that you bring two overgrown stag-hounds with you? Or are you going out by moonlight with them?"<p> "Uncle, you really have no sympathies. Are you not fond of dogs?" said she, turning to Mr. Eden; "and are not these very fine ones?"<p> Mr. Armytage happily prevented the necessity of an answer, by declaring he would not risk the dews of a September evening, in compliance with any love of the picturesque whatever; and giving his fair niece a whisper not to stare so, he compelled her to depart Without having made any progress toward ascertaining who was likely to make an impression on the heart of the silent gentleman, who, handsome as he was, must be a hero of romance, and could not have broken his leg for any earthly purpose but to fall in love – and to marry.<p> Mr. Egremont, when his daughters left the room, begged Mr. Eden not to think too hardly of their young visitor, for that, in spite of her love of display, she was a very valuable assistant to his daughters in their attempts to diffuse comfort and knowledge in the neighborhood. In other respects, her want of application was so notorious, that it was a question whether she had ever read half the books she was so ready to praise. It was hardly possible to help drawing a parallel between young women placed apparently in the same situations with the same opportunities; but the modest father, when this was hinted, attributed the difference to the virtues and accomplishments of a mother, unfortunately dead, but who had laid the foundation of what he had, however inadequately, endeavored to complete.<p> "I am but a young friend in more senses than one," said Mr. Eden; - " and it may almost seem presumptuous in me to express a hope that such blossoms are not destined to blush here unseen., I am so deeply indebted to your hospitable care, that it would be a relief to my mind to be allowed to introduce to you some of my female friends, who could bring the Miss Egremonts into the light of fashion, where they would not fail to be highly appreciated."<p> "I thank you most sincerely for your kind wishes. Your involuntary visit has been so pleasant to us, that I hope we shall be able to induce you to repeat it. For my girls, they are happy because they are contented. I do not wish to give them glimpses of a world of which they are never to make a part."<p> "I find I must speak plainer. I confess to you, then, that I am near marriage with a young woman of rank and high fashion. I am determined on re- siding a considerable portion of every year in this neighborhood; and I shall be truly happy for Lady Emily to have such friends as the Miss Egremonts. Surely it would be well for that friendship to begin in London."<p> "Your confidence merits mine. Mary is engaged to the young man who will succeed me as a minister among these simple people. It will be wise in Eli- nor to remain with her sister; and it will be well for both of them to keep far from a world of which we hear little good. Your residence will be a ray of sunshine among us, which may warm without scorching."<p> The conversation was dropped. Rut as Mr. Eden's returning strength enabled him to mix more with the family, and, with assistance, to attend them in short walks, he could but, lament that two such fair specimens of what a careful education may effect, should be left to very limited society, and that not of the best order. Yet when he looked around, end saw what they bad brought about in their village, he could but confess they were well placed for the benefit. of others; and he sighed as he contrasted, them with the ephemeral flutterers of fashion, who lives were without end or aim, either for themselves or others. Even Miss Armytage and her plain- spoken uncle rose in comparison with the individuals among whom he had passed so many never-to-be recalled hours.<p> When the time was drawing near for Mr. Eden's return to the south of England, he described a picturesque priory within a day's ride, to which he begged a party might be made, including Miss Armytage, whose never-failing volubility rendered her an excellent auxiliary to such a plan. Martin was dispatched to a neighboring town for a barouche, and Mr. Egremont was to ride the horse, whose spirit had been subdued by constant exercise. The party set out early in the morning of a day very fine for the season, when the fading trees added to the beauty of every view. Miss Armytage was all rapture, exclamation, and soliloquy, leaving the rest of the party to mark the grand features of the varying landscape at their leisure. She asked questions and answered them herself, to the great delight of those who would have found it difficult or embarrassing to have done it: and if she provoked her companions, she sometimes amused them; for she had not yet attained that proficiency in playing the fine lady as to make all parties subservient to her whims or inclination.<p> A ride of three hours brought them in sight of Allondale Priory, and Martin was sent forward to obtain permission for viewing the interior.<p> This very interesting building, now partially ruined, had been the chosen retreat of a brotherhood of Benedictines; and, like the greater part of religious edifices, was seated in a sheltered valley, on a gently rising mound, at the foot of which spread a small lake, now seen and now hid among groups of very aged trees. Behind the building, the Cheviot hills were distant enough to seem melting into the sky; but some nearer prominences, closing in the valley, were beautifully diversified with forest wood of every description. It was a lovely scene, brightened by a clear, October sun; enriched by gay-tinted foliage; in some places, partially veiled by the blue mist so peculiar to mountainous districts. The priory was such as it might be imagined it would be at the suppression of religious institutions, except that a considerable part of it was in absolute ruin. Miss Armytage raved of Gothic and florid Gothic; of embrasures and corbels; of mullions, cinque foils, quatre foils, machicolations, springing arches, and flying buttresses; confounding castellated with monastic architecture, till she wearied and bewildered herself, while the others were quietly looking on and fully enjoying the picturesque scene.<p> When the party entered the house, they were attended by an old woman, who courtesied respect- fully, but seemed impenetrably deaf, as she answered no questions nor paid the slightest attention to Miss Armytage – who, to do her justice, made most strenuous attempts to get information. She merely said, as they entered the different rooms, "The hall; the refectory; the library; the saloon." The greater part of them were the more pleased with this, as they could examine and comment on the very curious pictures and antique furniture, Without any danger of her notice.<p> Some of the portraits were of the hard outline and shadowless breadth of the time before Holbein; some rich ones from his more mellow pencil, and others of the more courtly style of Zucchero; but Miss Armytage classed them all in her own mind, and gave to each one a name of' royalty or rank, though most probably the rude semblance of a Northumbrian squire or his unambitious dame. One of more modern date, she insisted, was the Duke of Argyle – Jeanny Dean's duke – it must be him; he was so handsome, and looked so good!<p> "Horace Walpole would differ from you on the article of goodness in that duke," said Mr. Eden, smiling; "but I have heard this is the grandfather of the present possessor."<p> "And who is the present possessor?"<p> "I believe it is the Marquis of Allondale."<p> "Why, I declare, Mr. Eden, this picture is very like you – and now that your color rises, very, very like!"<p> "It is a fine picture by Sir Godfrey Kneller," said Mr. Egremont, rather gravely; for he found her folly not so tolerable when it was personal. "And we shall do better by examining his style, to see how far he fell below Vandyke, than by suiting likenesses to it."<p> The rooms were all lofty, well proportioned, and interesting, by the consistency of the ancient deco- rations. No modern article had been intruded to throw the massive furniture, and rich, though some- what faded, draperies, into shade. All was in good keeping; and many articles were highly valuable, as well as interestingly curious. The walls were invariably wainscoted with oak from the surrounding forests, the color varying as it had either been varnished or oiled, in which latter case it was very dark, as well as the highly polished floors, seldom covered but by a small piece of tapestry in the middle; but even where the wood had by time attained the deepest tint, rich gilded mouldings and broad carved picture-frames gave so much relief, that the<i>tout ensemble,</i> in effect, was by no means sombre. An air of' chastened magnificence pervaded the whole, more delightful than the gayest coloring or the fresh look of newness.<p> The ample bed-room", each with its adjoining large dressing-closet, were more elaborately ornamented with pilasters, carved cornices, and mouldings, than the state-rooms below. The bed-hangings were embroidery or brocade, lined with lighter silk; and the canopies rose in different forms, some like the old tents, seen now only in pictures, eight and even ten feet from the bed itself – a strange contrast to the present mode, where hardly breathing room seems left. The rich, voluminous folds of drapery swept the floors, and many of the ornaments immediately about the bed were fantastically carved, and overlaid with fretted gold.<p> The library was the last room visited; and here, to their no small surprise, they found refreshments spread on a side-table, and Martin ready to wait on them. But the striking beauties of this splendid apartment absorbed all other feelings, even in the volatile Miss Armytage, who instantly declared that, of all she had seen or read, this was most surpassingly grand. The oak had been suffered to retain its native hue, with no other ornament than the most delicate carving; of which the lofty roof, rising into light arches, was a surprising specimen, and might be supposed – as the chimney-piece bore his name – to be the work of Grinling Gibbons. Three large windows of stained glass poured in a flood of gorgeous, yet not dazzling light; and on both sides of the door were niches, each holding a complete suit of armor, still bearing its polish, and richly inlaid with gold. The books were also in recesses arched over, thus appearing to form the wall rather than projecting from it; and among these were some illuminated manuscripts and missals, the latter specimens of the earliest efforts in the art of printing.<p> Little time was left to do justice to the viands; but Mr. Eden was less reserved than usual, and appeared to much advantage as he exerted himself to do the honors. Miss Armytage whispered to Mary Egremont, "Whatever your father may say, I vow he is the very image of the Marquis of Allondale's grandfather."<p> As they turned again and again to admire the <i>coup d'aeil</i> of the room, Mr. Eden said, gayly, to Miss Armytage –<p> "Do you think you could be content to pass the greater part of the year in such a place as this?"<p> "Oh! la!" cried she, clapping her hands, and giving a skip from the Boor, "I only wish some one would try me! But I would have the house full of company!"<p> "Should you not be afraid of ghosts?" continued he, opening a casement in one of the windows, and showing the ruins of the chapel close by. " There are the tombs remaining, as you may see."<p> "Why, that is rather – rather awkward! Rut, as I said before, I would have the house full of company; and I am sure we should be more likely to frighten the ghosts with our noise than they us by their appearance."<p> «Where would you get so many people from?" said Mr. Egremont.<p> <p> ' You may call spirits from the vasty deep,<p> But will they come when you do call?' "<p> <p> "Spend one season in London, sir," said Mr. Eden, "and you will see that, if the shrine of dissipation were set up in Timbuctoo, votaries would soon flock to it."<p> "Now, ladies," said Mr. Egremont, "were you the mistress of such a place as this, what should you consider your first duty? You, Miss Armytage – what?"<p> "To amuse myself, to be sure."<p> He turned to his daughters, when Elinor exclaimed –" My dear father, do not ask me such a question till you have given me full twelve months to get accustomed to its beauties and interesting associations!"<p> "Oh, I have no doubt here are many more things to see," said Miss Armytage. "Trap-doors, and doors behind the hangings or the books; and long, dark passages – ay, and ghosts, too, if one did but know. Don't you think there have been murders committed here, Mr. Eden?"<p> "If the walls of old houses could speak," said Mr. Eden, seriously, "it is to be feared they would tell many a cad tale – perhaps horrid ones. But we will hope, for charity's sake, the elegant and learned Benedictines were free from such stains; and since the dissolution of monasteries, the times have not been so murderous."<p> "You have not answered my question, Mary?" said Mr. Egremont.<p> "Oh, I must plead with my sister; for this would be an enchanted room, and I fear I should long re- main here spellbound."<p> "True woman, after all is said and done. Amusement is the business of your lives. It is well if we can make it rational."<p> "Rut may there not have been murders here, even since the Reformation?" again interrupted Miss Armytage.<p> "There may have been Front de Boeufs in modern days, for we have unfortunately had wild times since bluff King Hal; but I do not know that any such tradition belongs to these walls."<p> "Go and take your last look at the outside of them," said Mr. Egremont, "while the setting sun is streaming on them; and then wrap up warm for our ride homeward."<p> The ladies hastened, on this intimation; and when the gentlemen followed, Mary was sketching the building, and some of its accompanying scenery.<p> "I have not yet seen any of your drawings, Miss Egremont; nor was I aware that you were in the habit of sketching from nature. Will you allow me?"<p> Mary gave him the book without hesitation, and he was surprised at the truth and force of her hasty touches. To the right of the priory was a range of ruins almost covered with ivy – the dormitories of the brethren and the cells of penitents, or perhaps of the lay brothers – with here, and there a tall arch starting from the midst, festooned by creeping plants. A group of trees hid the extent of these crumbling masses from the sight. The chapel was visible on the other side.<p> "Will you do me the favor," asked Mr. Eden, "to draw the foliage of the trees nearer to the main building, and let the ivy of the ruins mingle with the branches to the right hand ? It takes away the appearance of so much dilapidation."<p> Mary did as she was requested, though she thought it spoiling the effect of the drawing, preferring, like other artists, ruins to an entire building.<p> "And now, Miss Egremont," said he, with some hesitation, "I am a beggar for the sketch."<p> "This," said she, ." is not worth your acceptance; but Elinor will make it so. She is by far the better artist. I dash away roughly, but she finishes with some taste."<p> On their arrival at the rectory, the portfolios were no longer neglected; and Mr. Eden was pleased to see that Miss Armytage really enjoyed his surprise. He had so often been called on to praise the drawings of young girls against his conscience, that he usually shrank with horror from such an exhibition. He now saw what an intimate acquaintance with beautiful nature can effect, and thought himself rich in receiving from the hand of Elinor, not only the sketch he had requested, but five others of equal interest from scenes in the vicinity.<p> There were a delicacy and generosity in Mr. Eden's mode of rewarding all who had attended him, highly gratifying to the inmates of the rectory. The only remuneration that could be offered to themselves was his cordial friendship, and an assurance of his firm resolution to return won. The two horses were left for the use of Mr. Egremont, as a carriage was now necessary to convey Mr. Eden home. Soon after his departure, the young ladies found, in their work-basket, a bank note of considerable value, with a billet, stating that it was to augment their charitable fund.<p> <p align=center> (To be continued.)</p> <P ALIGN = CENTER><img src="../ad/fline.gif"> <br><br> This Godey's Lady's Book is brought to you by <p align=center> <A HREF="http://idevelop.com/cgi-bin/imagemap/map/g-s.map" target="_top"><img src="http://idevelop.com/ad/godeys/50-1-s.gif" ISMAP border=1 alt="Sponsor"></A> <p align=center> <small><A HREF="../mailto.htm"><i>Your Comments Welcomed!</i></A> <i>Copyright </i>©<i> 1995 EHP</i></small></p> </BODY> </HTML>