exertions, could not be ready for his reception for three years,
which to him appeared eternity, he determined to look about for an
establishment. He was fortunate. A nobleman who possessed an hereditary
mansion of the first class, and much too magnificent for his resources,
suddenly became diplomatic, and accepted an embassy. The Duke of St.
James took everything off his hands: house, furniture, wines, cooks,
servants, horses. Sir Carte was sent in to touch up the gilding and make
a few temporary improvements; and Lady Fitz-pompey pledged herself to
organise the whole establishment ere the full season commenced and the
early Easter had elapsed, which had now arrived.

It had arrived, and the young Duke had departed to his chief family
seat, Hauteville Castle, in Yorkshire. He intended at the same time
to fulfil his long-pledged engagement at Castle Dacre. He arrived at
Hauteville amid the ringing of bells, the roasting of oxen, and the
crackling of bonfires. The Castle, unlike most Yorkshire castles, was a
Gothic edifice, ancient, vast, and strong; but it had received numerous
additions in various styles of architecture, which were at the same time
great sources of convenience and great violations of taste. The young
Duke was seized with a violent desire to live in a genuine Gothic
castle: each day his refined taste was outraged by discovering Roman
windows and Grecian doors. He determined to emulate Windsor, and he sent
for Sir Carte.

Sir Carte came as quick as thunder after lightning. He was immediately
struck with Hauteville, particularly with its capabilities. It was a
superb place, certainly, and might be rendered unrivalled. The situation
seemed made for the pure Gothic. The left wing should decidedly be
pulled down, and its site occupied by a Knight's hall; the old terrace
should be restored; the donjon keep should be raised, and a gallery,
three hundred feet long, thrown through the body of the castle.
Estimates, estimates, estimates! But the time? This was a greater point
than the expense. Wonders should be done. There were now five hundred
men working for Hauteville House; there should be a thousand for
Hauteville Castle. Carte Blanche, Carte Blanche, Carte Blanche!

On his arrival in Yorkshire the Duke had learnt that the Dacres were
in Norfolk on a visit. As the Castle was some miles off, he saw no
necessity to make a useless exertion, and so he sent his jaeger with his
card. He had now been ten days i