national scale borne a due relation to
that progress of their rulers, which had accumulated in the treasuries
of a limited class the riches of the world; and made their possessors
boast that they were the first of nations; the most powerful and the
most free, the most enlightened, the most moral, and the most religious?
Were there any rick-burners in the times of the lord abbots? And if not,
why not? And why should the stacks of the Earls of Marney be destroyed,
and those of the Abbots of Marney spared?

Brooding over these suggestions, some voices disturbed him, and looking
round, he observed in the cemetery two men: one was standing beside a
tomb which his companion was apparently examining.

The first was of lofty stature, and though dressed with simplicity,
had nothing sordid in his appearance. His garments gave no clue to
his position in life: they might have been worn by a squire or by his
gamekeeper; a dark velveteen dress and leathern gaiters. As Egremont
caught his form, he threw his broad-brimmed country hat upon the ground
and showed a frank and manly countenance. His complexion might in youth
have been ruddy, but time and time's attendants, thought and passion,
had paled it: his chesnut hair, faded, but not grey, still clustered
over a noble brow; his features were regular and handsome, a well-formed
nose, the square mouth and its white teeth, and the clear grey eye which
befitted such an idiosyncracy. His time of vigorous manhood, for he was
much nearer forty than fifty years of age, perhaps better suited his
athletic form, than the more supple and graceful season of youth.

Stretching his powerful arms in the air, and delivering himself of
an exclamation which denoted his weariness, and which had broken the
silence, he expressed to his companion his determination to rest himself
under the shade of the yew in the contiguous garden, and inviting his
friend to follow him, he took up his hat and moved away.

There was something in the appearance of the stranger that interested
Egremont; and waiting till he had established himself in his pleasant
resting place, Egremont descended into the cloister garden and
determined to address him.

Book 2 Chapter 5

"You lean against an ancient trunk," said Egremont, carelessly advancing
to the stranger, who looked up at him without any expression of
surprise, and then replied. "They say 'tis the trunk beneath whose
branches the monks encamped when they cam