ancestors tempt the valley, often preferring
a roundabout course over a line of hills, if by so doing the perils of
the lower ground could be avoided.

The pilgrim followed a narrow and beaten track: it was bordered on each
side by a deep ditch, nearly overgrown with weeds and brambles. He
traversed the intricate windings of the road with considerable facility;
but an hour had nearly elapsed ere he gained the brow of an eminence of
no very conspicuous height, though it commanded a pretty extensive view
of the country adjacent. From the east, a rich flood of glory blended
the whole into one broad mass of light, melting away the beauteous
frost-work, as the rays of morning dissipate the unreal visions that
have their existence only in darkness and repose. Southward lay the
borough, distinguishable only by the broad tower of All-Saints rising
from the mist, as if baseless and suspended. A bell boomed heavily
through the quiet atmosphere: its long and lingering echoes came on the
pilgrim's soul like the voice of other years--of hopes and anticipations
that had for ever departed.

Westward might be seen a curl of blue smoke from the newly-dignified
priory at Upholland, recently invested with that honour through the
grants and intercessions of Sir Robert de Holland, a proud knight in the
train of Thomas Earl of Lancaster. It was northward that the pilgrim
turned, with a look of more intense anxiety. The mansion of Haigh stood
at the extremity of a broad slope, surmounted by shady woods, now fading
into the warm and luxuriant tints of autumn. Dark and cumbrous turrets,
projecting from the wings, grimly caught the first gleam of the morning;
whilst a tower of considerable strength and elevation rose above what
could only be surmised as the principal gateway. It was apparently
designed to overlook the whole fabric, serving as a refuge to the
besieged, and a stronghold in case of attack. Narrow loopholes might be
traced, irregularly disposed in the heavy masonry; and at the summit
stood a small turret resembling a large chair, from which, at stated
occasions, waved the richly-emblazoned escutcheon of the Norris and the
Bradshaigh. The staff was just visible, but unaccompanied by its
glittering adjunct. It was this circumstance principally that seemed to
engage the attention of the stranger. He broke into a loud and
involuntary exclamation:--

"Sir William's birthday is forgotten!--That staff opened a rich blossom
to the breeze