the most
noisy, and the least useful, though the creature was affectionate enough
in his way, and, as we have stated, marvellously skilful in his calling.
He stood with the rest of the servants, about twenty in number, who had
assembled to await Cromwell's entrance, and do honour to their young
lady by as numerous and well arranged a show as they could collect. They
were all dressed in deep and decent mourning, except the women of Lady
Frances, who walked behind her to the great entrance, where she and
Constantia stood ready to receive his Highness. As he alighted, the
advanced-guard formed a semicircle beside the carriage; and when his
foot rested on the first step of the entrance-stairs, the two ladies
passed the threshold, to meet him with due respect. It was a picturesque
sight--the meeting of that rugged and warlike man with two such
females;--for Lady Frances, though deficient in what may be termed
regular beauty, had an air and fascination about her that was
exceedingly captivating; and as she waited, one foot a little in
advance, her head thrown back, and the jewels of her clasped stomacher
distinctly marking the outline of her full and graceful bust, she formed
a considerable, but still a pleasing contrast to the high-souled beauty
of her dignified friend. Constantia, at the moment Cromwell alighted,
trembled lest the next person should be Sir Willmott Burrell; and the
terror she naturally felt, lent an air of embarrassment to her pale,
high features, to which they were generally strangers. Her long mourning
veil fell, as usual, to her feet; and the folds of her rich velvet robe
concealed the change which but a little time had wrought in her
exquisitely moulded figure. The arched hall was crowded on either side
by her domestics, whose dresses formed a gloomy back-ground, which,
nevertheless, accorded well with the hatchment that hung over the
entrance,--a memorial of Lady Cecil's recent death. Lady Frances, as she
glanced on the sober, but well-arranged party in front, their bright
armour and broad swords flashing in the light, the prancing of the brave
horses, and the smiling face of her uncle's favourite page--her own
cousin, who followed close to his indulgent master--the mixture of
carriage and cuirass, of spear and pennon, set out against the green
meadows, and still farther off the blue and beautiful sea--all this
looked to her cheerful mind as if hope and happiness were about once
more to enter Cecil Pla