though Lady Cheverel did not share her husband's architectural
enthusiasm, she had too rigorous a view of a wife's duties, and too
profound a deference for Sir Christopher, to regard submission as a
grievance. As for Sir Christopher, he was perfectly indifferent to
criticism. 'An obstinate, crotchety man,' said his neighbours. But I, who
have seen Cheverel Manor, as he bequeathed it to his heirs, rather
attribute that unswerving architectural purpose of his, conceived and
carried out through long years of systematic personal exertion, to
something of the fervour of genius, as well as inflexibility of will; and
in walking through those rooms, with their splendid ceilings and their
meagre furniture, which tell how all the spare money had been absorbed
before personal comfort was thought of, I have felt that there dwelt in
this old English baronet some of that sublime spirit which distinguishes
art from luxury, and worships beauty apart from self-indulgence.

While Cheverel Manor was growing from ugliness into beauty, Caterina too
was growing from a little yellow bantling into a whiter maiden, with no
positive beauty indeed, but with a certain light airy grace, which, with
her large appealing dark eyes, and a voice that, in its low-toned
tenderness, recalled the love-notes of the stock-dove, gave her a more
than usual charm. Unlike the building, however, Caterina's development
was the result of no systematic or careful appliances. She grew up very
much like the primroses, which the gardener is not sorry to see within
his enclosure, but takes no pains to cultivate. Lady Cheverel taught her
to read and write, and say her catechism; Mr. Warren, being a good
accountant, gave her lessons in arithmetic, by her ladyship's desire; and
Mrs. Sharp initiated her in all the mysteries of the needle. But, for a
long time, there was no thought of giving her any more elaborate
education. It is very likely that to her dying day Caterina thought the
earth stood still, and that the sun and stars moved round it; but so, for
the matter of that, did Helen, and Dido, and Desdemona, and Juliet;
whence I hope you will not think my Caterina less worthy to be a heroine
on that account. The truth is, that, with one exception, her only talent
lay in loving; and there, it is probable, the most astronomical of women
could not have surpassed her. Orphan and protegee though she was, this
supreme talent of hers found plenty of exercise at Cheverel Manor, a