dy to yield to her every desire, almost
worshipping his boy. In short, upon reviewing calmly her married life,
with the sole exception of those occasional absences, she was obliged to
own that she had all that she could desire, and that, however wanting in
the wild, passionate, and romantic, Philip Norton's love for her was
imbued with that tender gentleness, based on admiration, trust, and
faith, which was far more lasting and satisfying to the soul--a love
that would but increase with years; and at last, with an impatient stamp
of the foot, she wiped away her tears, upbraiding herself for her want
of trust and faith in her noble husband, accusing herself of misjudging
him. Catching up her boy, she covered him with kisses, her face
lighting up with a joyful maternal pride in the strong link which had
been sent to bind them together.

"Heaven helping me," she muttered, "I'll never doubt him."

It was a grave promise--a vow hard to keep, as circumstances wove
themselves in the future; and more than once Ada Norton had the excuse
of sore temptation; but how she bore herself, how she kept faith in her
husband under circumstances that might well raise doubts in the most
trusting woman's heart, will be seen in the sequel.

Book 1, Chapter X.

SIR MURRAY'S GENTLEMAN.

There had been busy doings at the Castle, and Merland village was in an
intense state of excitement. Old Chunt--Jonathan Chunt, who kept the
"Black Bull"--said that there was to be some life in the place at last.
He knew, for he had it from Mr Gurdon--old Gurdon's lad, but _Mr_
Gurdon now, and an awfully big man in his master's estimation. He was
butler now, and had come over to superintend the getting in order of the
place, for Sir Murray was fond of company, and there were to be no end
of gaieties at the Castle. Mr Gurdon was setting the old servants to
rights and no mistake, for he'd got full power, and they hadn't had such
a waking up for long enough. Why, what with company's servants coming
down to the "Bull," and post-horses now and then, and one thing and
another, it would be a little fortune to him, Chunt said. Time there
was a change, too: keeping a house like that shut up for the rats to
scamper across the floors, was injuring the trade of the village, where
there was no one else but the old people at the Rectory, and them
Nortons, who might just as well be a hundred miles off, shutting
themselves up as they did.

Chunt knew, and he impar