ocked and shook in the heavy roads of late autumn. The girl wore the
Antwerp faille, or black Spanish mantle over her head, and altogether
her appearance was such that the old cottager, who described the
procession to me many years after, said that all the country-folk took
her for a foreigner. Some dogs, and the boy who held them in charge,
made up the company. They rode silently along, looking with grave,
serious eyes at the people, who came out of the scattered cottages to
bow or curtsy to the real Squire, 'come back at last,' and gazed after
the little procession with gaping wonder, not deadened by the sound of
the foreign language in which the few necessary words that passed among
them were spoken. One lad, called from his staring by the Squire to
come and help about the cart, accompanied them to the Manor-House. He
said that when the lady had descended from her pillion, the middle-aged
woman whom I have described as walking while the others rode, stepped
quickly forward, and taking Madam Starkey (who was of a slight and
delicate figure) in her arms, she lifted her over the threshold, and
set her down in her husband's house, at the same time uttering a
passionate and outlandish blessing. The Squire stood by, smiling
gravely at first; but when the words of blessing were pronounced, he
took off his fine feathered hat, and bent his head. The girl with the
black mantle stepped onward into the shadow of the dark hall, and
kissed the lady's hand; and that was all the lad could tell to the
group that gathered round him on his return, eager to hear everything,
and to know how much the Squire had given him for his services.

From all I could gather, the Manor-House, at the time of the Squire's
return, was in the most dilapidated state. The stout grey walls
remained firm and entire; but the inner chambers had been used for all
kinds of purposes. The great withdrawing-room had been a barn; the
state tapestry-chamber had held wool, and so on. But, by-and-by, they
were cleared out; and if the Squire had no money to spend on new
furniture, he and his wife had the knack of making the best of the old.
He was no despicable joiner; she had a kind of grace in whatever she
did, and imparted an air of elegant picturesqueness to whatever she
touched. Besides, they had brought many rare things from the Continent;
perhaps I should rather say, things that were rare in that part of
England--carvings, and crosses, and beautiful pictures. And