d than amid the artifices and
corruptions of a court. If either the governor or his lady had
especially consulted their own comfort, they would probably have
sought to devolve the responsibility on other hands, since with some
noble and splendid traits of character Lady Eleanore was remarkable
for a harsh, unyielding pride, a haughty consciousness of her
hereditary and personal advantages, which made her almost incapable of
control. Judging from many traditionary anecdotes, this peculiar
temper was hardly less than a monomania; or if the acts which it
inspired were those of a sane person, it seemed due from Providence
that pride so sinful should be followed by as severe a retribution.
That tinge of the marvellous which is thrown over so many of these
half-forgotten legends has probably imparted an additional wildness to
the strange story of Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe.

The ship in which she came passenger had arrived at Newport, whence
Lady Eleanore was conveyed to Boston in the governor's coach, attended
by a small escort of gentlemen on horseback. The ponderous equipage,
with its four black horses, attracted much notice as it rumbled
through Cornhill surrounded by the prancing steeds of half a dozen
cavaliers with swords dangling to their stirrups and pistols at their
holsters. Through the large glass windows of the coach, as it rolled
along, the people could discern the figure of Lady Eleanore, strangely
combining an almost queenly stateliness with the grace and beauty of a
maiden in her teens. A singular tale had gone abroad among the ladies
of the province that their fair rival was indebted for much of the
irresistible charm of her appearance to a certain article of dress--an
embroidered mantle--which had been wrought by the most skilful artist
in London, and possessed even magical properties of adornment. On the
present occasion, however, she owed nothing to the witchery of dress,
being clad in a riding-habit of velvet which would have appeared stiff
and ungraceful on any other form.

The coachman reined in his four black steeds, and the whole cavalcade
came to a pause in front of the contorted iron balustrade that fenced
the province-house from the public street. It was an awkward
coincidence that the bell of the Old South was just then tolling for a
funeral; so that, instead of a gladsome peal with which it was
customary to announce the arrival of distinguished strangers, Lady
Eleanore Rochcliffe was ushered by