n a broader scale; you must excuse her--she had my positive order to
lodge me in the most secret part of your Castle"--(here she pointed to
the sliding panel)--"she obeyed orders in that, and I suppose also in
sending you now hither."

"Indeed I have not yet seen her," said the lady, "and therefore was
totally ignorant of a visit so joyful, so surprising."

"And I," said the Countess, "was equally surprised to find none but
these beautiful children in the apartment where I thought I heard you
moving. Our Ellesmere has become silly--your good-nature has spoiled
her--she has forgotten the discipline she learned under me."

"I saw her run through the wood," said the Lady Peveril, after a
moment's recollection, "undoubtedly to seek the person who has charge of
the children, in order to remove them."

"Your own darlings, I doubt not," said the Countess, looking at the
children. "Margaret, Providence has blessed you."

"That is my son," said the Lady Peveril, pointing to Julian, who stood
devouring their discourse with greedy ear; "the little girl--I may call
mine too." Major Bridgenorth, who had in the meantime again taken up his
infant, and was engaged in caressing it, set it down as the Countess of
Derby spoke, sighed deeply, and walked towards the oriel window. He was
well aware that the ordinary rules of courtesy would have rendered it
proper that he should withdraw entirely, or at least offer to do so;
but he was not a man of ceremonious politeness, and he had a particular
interest in the subjects on which the Countess's discourse was likely
to turn, which induced him to dispense with ceremony. The ladies seemed
indeed scarce to notice his presence. The Countess had now assumed a
chair, and motioned to the Lady Peveril to sit upon a stool which was
placed by her side. "We will have old times once more, though there are
here no roaring of rebel guns to drive you to take refuge at my side,
and almost in my pocket."

"I have a gun, madam," said little Julian, "and the park-keeper is to
teach me how to fire it next year."

"I will list you for my soldier, then," said the Countess.

"Ladies have no soldiers," said the boy, looking wistfully at her.

"He has the true masculine contempt of our frail sex, I see," said the
Countess; "it is born with the insolent varlets of mankind, and shows
itself so soon as they are out of their long clothes.--Did Ellesmere
never tell you of Latham House and Charlotte of Derby, my lit