blished themselves,
living in the enjoyment of every species of luxury and splendor which
were attainable in those days. As has already been said, the interiors,
even of royal castles and palaces, presented but few of the comforts and
conveniences deemed essential to the happiness of a home in modern
times. The European ladies of the present day delight in their suites of
retired and well-furnished apartments, adorned with velvet carpets, and
silken curtains, and luxuriant beds of down, with sofas and couches
adapted to every fancy which the caprice of fatigue or restlessness may
assume, and cabinets stored with treasures, and libraries of embellished
books--the whole scene illuminated by the splendor of gas-lights, whose
brilliancy is reflected by mirrors and candelabras, sparkling with a
thousand hues. Matilda's feudal palace presented no such scenes as
these. The cold stone floors were covered with mats of rushes. The
walls--if the naked masonry was hidden at all--were screened by hangings
of coarse tapestry, ornamented with uncouth and hideous figures. The
beds were miserable pallets, the windows were loop-holes, and the castle
itself had all the architectural characteristics of a prison.

Still, there was a species of luxury and splendor even then. Matilda had
splendid horses to ride, all magnificently caparisoned. She had dresses
adorned most lavishly with gold and jewels. There were troops of valiant
knights, all glittering in armor of steel, to escort her on her
journeys, and accompany and wait upon her on her excursions of pleasure;
and there were grand banquets and carousals, from time to time, in the
long castle hall, with tournaments, and races, and games, and other
military shows, conducted with great parade and pageantry. Matilda thus
commenced her married life in luxury and splendor.

In luxury and splendor, but not in peace. William had an uncle, whose
name was Mauger. He was the Archbishop of Rouen, and was a dignitary
of great influence and power. Now it was, of course, the interest of
William's relatives that he should not be married, as every increase of
probability that his crown would descend to direct heirs diminished
their future chances of the succession, and of course undermined their
present importance. Mauger had been very much opposed to this match,
and had exerted himself in every way, while the negotiations were
pending, to impede and delay them. The point which he most strenuously
urged