ent, it threw a strong glare upon his
expressive countenance and noble figure, and rendered conspicuous that
richness of attire which the fashion of those stately days demanded
from "the magnates of the land;" and which we now only admire amid the
mummeries of theatrical pageant, or on the glowing canvas of Vandyck.
His head rested on his hand, and while Lady Greville who was seated on
an opposite couch, was apparently engrossed by the embroidery-frame
over which she leant, his attention was equally occupied by his son, who
stood at her knee, interrupting her progress by twining his little
hands in the slender ringlets which profusely overhung her work, and by
questions which betrayed the unsuspicious sportiveness of his age.

"Mother," said the boy, "are we to remain all winter in this ruinous
den? Do you know Margaret says, that some of these northern sea winds
will shake it down over our heads one stormy night; and that she would
as soon lie under the ruins, as be buried alive in its walls. Now I must
own I would rather return to Silsea, and visit my hawks, and Caesar,
and--"

"Hush! sir, you prate something too wildly; nor do I wish to hear you
repeat Margaret's idle observations."

"But mother, I know you long yourself to walk once again in your own
dear sunshiny orangery?"

"My Hugh," said Lady Greville without attending to his question, "has
Margaret shewn you the descent to the walk below the cliffs, and have
you brought me the shells you promised to gather?"

"How? with the spring tide beating the foot of the rocks, and the sea
raging so furiously that the very gulls dared not take their delicious
perch upon the waves. Tomorrow perhaps--"

"What now, my Hugh, afraid to venture? When I walked on the sands at
noon, there was a bowshot spare."

"No! mother, no, not afraid, not afraid to venture a fall, or meet a
sprinkling of sea spray, and good truth I have enough to do with fears
in doors, here in this grim old mansion, without--"

"Fears?"--

"Yes, fears, dear mother," said the boy, looking archly round at his
attendant, who waited in the back ground, and who vainly sought by signs
to silence her unruly charge.

"Do you know that the figure of King Herod, cruel Herod, the murderer of
his wife, and the slayer of the innocents, stalks down every night from
the tapestry in my sleeping room and wanders through the galleries at
midnight; and than the cross, where the three Jews were executed a long,
lon