m much, and so he would have been a mere hunting hawking knight
of Derbyshire. But in your ladyship's household, and with the noble
young Earl, he will have all, and more than all, the education which I
could desire."

"There shall be no distinction betwixt them, cousin," said the Countess;
"Margaret Stanley's son shall be as much the object of care to me as
my own, since you are kindly disposed to entrust him to my charge.--You
look pale, Margaret," she continued, "and the tear stands in your eye?
Do not be so foolish, my love--what I ask is better than you can desire
for your boy; for the house of my father, the Duke de la Tremouille,
was the most famous school of chivalry in France; nor have I degenerated
from him, or suffered any relaxation in that noble discipline which
trained young gentlemen to do honour to their race. You can promise your
Julian no such advantages, if you train him up a mere home-bred youth."

"I acknowledge the importance of the favour, madam," said Lady Peveril,
"and must acquiesce in what your ladyship honours us by proposing, and
Sir Geoffrey approves of; but Julian is an only child, and----"

"An only son," said the Countess, "but surely not an only child. You pay
too high deference to our masters, the male sex, if you allow Julian to
engross all your affection, and spare none for this beautiful girl."

So saying, she set down Julian, and, taking Alice Bridgenorth on her
lap, began to caress her; and there was, notwithstanding her masculine
character, something so sweet in the tone of her voice and in the cast
of her features, that the child immediately smiled, and replied to her
marks of fondness. This mistake embarrassed Lady Peveril exceedingly.
Knowing the blunt impetuosity of her husband's character, his devotion
to the memory of the deceased Earl of Derby, and his corresponding
veneration for his widow, she was alarmed for the consequences of his
hearing the conduct of Bridgenorth that morning, and was particularly
desirous that he should not learn it save from herself in private,
and after due preparation. But the Countess's error led to a more
precipitate disclosure.

"That pretty girl, madam," answered Sir Geoffrey, "is none of ours--I
wish she were. She belongs to a neighbour hard by--a good man, and,
to say truth, a good neighbour--though he was carried off from his
allegiance in the late times by a d--d Presbyterian scoundrel, who
calls himself a parson, and whom I hope to f