ensuing days, the lodge was assailed by
very many anxious and sympathizing inquirers, who were answered by
Waters, whom Mr. Aubrey--oppressed by the number of friends who hurried
up to the Hall, and insisted upon seeing him to ascertain the extent to
which the dreadful rumors were correct--had stationed there during the
day to afford the requisite information. The Hall was pervaded by a
gloom which could be _felt_. Every servant had a woe-begone look, and
moved about as if a funeral were stirring. Little Charles and Agnes,
almost imprisoned in their nursery, seemed quite puzzled and confused at
the strange unusual seriousness, and quietness, and melancholy faces
everywhere about them. Kate romped not with them as had been her wont;
but would constantly burst into tears as she held them on her knee or in
her arms, trying to evade the continual questioning of Charles. "I think
it will be time for _me_ to cry too, by-and-by!" said he to her one day,
with an air half in jest and half in earnest, that made poor Kate's
tears flow afresh. Sleepless nights and days of sorrow soon told upon
her appearance. Her glorious buoyancy of spirits, which erewhile, as it
were, had filled the whole Hall with gladness--where were they now? Ah,
me! the rich bloom had disappeared from her beautiful cheek; but her
high spirit, though oppressed, was not broken, and she stood firmly and
calmly amid the scowling skies and lowering tempests. You fancied you
saw her auburn tresses stirred upon her pale but calm brow by the breath
of the approaching storm; and that she also felt it, but trembled not,
gazing on it with a bright and steadfast eye. Her _heart_ might be,
indeed, bruised and shaken; but her _spirit_ was, ay, unconquerable. My
glorious Kate, how my heart goes forth towards you!

And thou, her brother, who art of kindred spirit; who art supported by
philosophy, and exalted by religion, so that thy constancy cannot be
shaken or overthrown by the black and ominous swell of trouble which is
increasing and closing around thee, I know that thou wilt outlive the
storm--and yet it rocks thee!

A month or two may see thee and thine expelled from Old Yatton, and not
merely having lost everything, but with a liability to thy successor
which will hang round thy neck like a millstone. What, indeed, is to
become of you all? Whither will you go? And your suffering mother,
should she indeed survive so long, is her precious form to be borne away
from Yat