CHAPTER I.

STANDARD

NOVELS.

No CXVII.

"No kind of literature is so generally attractive as Fiction. Pictures of

life and manners, and Stories of adventure, are more eagerly received by

the many than graver productions, however important these latter may be.

Apuleius is better remembered by his fable of Cupid and Psyche than by

his abstruser Platonic writings; and the Decameron of Boccaccio has

outlived the Latin Treatises and other learned works of that author."

TALES

OF

THE PEERAGE AND THE PEASANTRY.

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.

LONDON:

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET;

AND BELL & BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH.

1849.

LONDON:

Spottiswoodes and Shaw,

New-street-Square.

[Illustration:

_Clara Cause, del._ _C. Cook, sc._

TALES OF THE PEERAGE AND THE PEASANTRY.

"_The Chevalier received the Countess of Nithsdale with what he meant

to be marked attention, but his manner was subdued, his bearing

dejected_" Winifred

_London. Published by Richard Bentley. 1849._]

TALES

OF THE

PEERAGE AND THE PEASANTRY.

EDITED BY LADY DACRE.

LONDON:

RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET;

AND BELL & BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH.

1849.

NOTICE.

The Proprietors of Circulating Libraries in all parts of the country

are compelled by the new Copyright Act to discontinue purchasing and

lending out a single copy of a foreign edition of an English work. _The

mere having it in their possession ticketed and marked as a library

book_ exposes them to

A PENALTY OF TEN POUNDS.

* * * * *

By the new Copyright Act and the new Customs Act, even single copies of

pirated editions of English Works are prohibited both in Great Britain

and the Colonies. Copies so attempted to be passed are seized.

These measures will be rigidly enforced.

PREFACE.

The authoress feels much diffidence in sending forth to the world a

tale which by its title gives promise of treating not only of history,

but of Scottish history; an act of presumption from which she is

anxious to clear herself;--and at the same time she wishes to re-assure

those readers who may not like historical novels from a woman's pen,

that she has entered no farther into public affairs, than as they may

have influenced the fortunes and feelings of the one admirable woman

who forms the subject of the following memoir.

Since in the human heart the same passions and the same emotions are

found in all ages, she hopes she has not trespassed beyond the limits

assigned to one who is conscious that all she writes bears the stamp

of feminine authorship, in attempting the development of a female

character, the firmness and tenderness of which may be gathered from

Lady Nithsdale's own beautiful letter to her sister.

The foundation of the story of the Hampshire Cottage is strictly true.

The appearance, the characters, the sentiments, and the death of the

old couple, are entirely from nature. Their very Christian names have

been preserved; and the circumstance of the blind old man feeling too

low for the head of the little girl, who had outgrown his recollection,

actually occurred to the authoress, when visiting the cottage after a

long absence.

For reasons which perhaps may be understood by her friends, she adds,

that the tale of Blanche was written in the year 1832.

London.

June 26, 1835.

CONTENTS.

Page

Winifred, Countess of Nithsdale 1

The Hampshire Cottage 194

Blanche 273

TALES

OF

THE PEERAGE AND THE PEASANTRY.

WINIFRED, COUNTESS OF NITHSDALE.

CHAPTER I.

My father stood for his true king,

Till standing it could do nae mair;

The day is lost, and so are we,--

Nae wonder mony a heart is sair.

_Jacobite Song._

The sound of the organ pealed through the chapel of the English

Augustine convent at Bruges: a bright gleam of sunshine, streaming

through the painted window to the south of the altar, shone upon the

clouds of incense which arose in silvery folds from the censers; it

shone upon the white-robed assistants, upon the priests, and upon the

calm brow of the young nun who had that moment taken the irrevocable

vows which separated her from the world--a world of which she knew

but little; but which, from the circumstances in which her family was

placed, offered not to her the temptations it usually holds out to

youth, beauty, and rank such as hers.

The Lady Lucy Herbert was the fourth daughter of William Marquis of

Powis, who, having devoted himself to the cause of James the Second,

and accompanied his queen in her flight to France, received from the

exiled monarch, as a reward for his uncompromising loyalty, the empty

titles of Marquis of Montgomery and Duke of Powis.

James afterwards appointed him steward and chamberlain to his

household--offices which, although of small advantage, may have been

gratifying to his feelings, as proofs of the estimation in which he

was held by the master to whom he had sacrificed everything.

Upon the Duke of Powis's death, which took place in 1696, his widow

placed her two youngest daughters in the English Augustine convent

at Bruges; while the three elder remained with her at the melancholy

shadow of a court still kept up at St. Germain's.

It was no grief to the widowed mother when she found that the bent

of the young Lucy's mind was sincerely and enthusiastically directed

towards a religious life. Although the attainder had been reversed,

and her son had been restored to the Marquisate of Powis, it was not

till some years afterwards that she had ventured to return to England;

even then she lived in retirement and privacy. The widow of so zealous

an adherent to King James could not be regarded without suspicion;

her means were scanty; her elder daughters had not then made the

advantageous alliances which they afterwards formed; and joyfully did

she hail the vocation which she hoped would secure, to one of her

children at least, a peaceful and tranquil existence, secure from any

farther vicissitudes of fortune.

But to one person the decision of the Lady Lucy Herbert was a matter of

deep and unmixed sorrow. Her younger sister, the Lady Winifred, loved

her with all the devotion of a fresh and unpractised heart. They had

been early separated from the rest of their family. At the period of

their father's death, when their childish hearts had for the first time

been made acquainted with grief, they had been thrown entirely on each

other for support and consolation.

Though many years had now elapsed, the moment was still fresh in their

memories, when their mother, in her mourning habit, with pale cheek

and streaming eyes, delivered them over to the care of the friend who

was to convey them to Bruges. The sad countenances and black garments

of their sisters, and of the few domestics who still remained of their

former establishment, coupled with the vague, ill-defined feeling,

half resembling fear, half shame, which children experience when they

witness grief more intense than their young minds can comprehend, had

left a deep impression upon both the youthful pensioners. When first

they found themselves in the convent, with none but strangers around

them, the timid Winifred clung instinctively to her sister; while Lady

Lucy, forced, as it were, to become the prop and stay of one younger

and weaker than herself, acquired at an early age the habit of seeking

strength and support from above.

Loving and admiring her sister as did the Lady Winifred, it may excite

wonder that she did not imbibe her strict religious notions; that she

also should not have looked forward with joy to the idea of devoting

herself to pious seclusion, and thus, at the same time, preserving the

society of the being she most loved on earth. But it was not so. On the

contrary, she felt her sister's vows as a barrier of separation between

them.

Although she had no wish to wander beyond the walls of the little

convent garden, though she seldom even went to the parlour grate, and

never wished to avail herself of the occasional opportunities which

occurred to the pensioners of mixing in society, still she felt an

instinctive horror of irrevocable vows, to renounce--they knew not

what. It was with a feeling amounting to despair that she witnessed

the funeral rites, that she heard the service for the dead, that she

saw the black veil dropped between her sister and the world, of whose

pains and pleasures they could form no idea. Moreover, these vows for

ever precluded the possibility of her seeing their native country in

company with that beloved sister; and in the heart of the Lady Winifred

there existed the strong instinctive affection for the land of her

forefathers, which the coldest and the most hardened are not wholly

without, but which in minds of a more ardent temperament amounts almost

to a ruling passion. She had never beheld the British shores, she had

never breathed British air, and yet she felt as if England was her

home--her natural resting-place.

When first the young girls had been sent to Bruges, an old and faithful

servant of the name of Evans had accompanied them. She was a native of

Wales, and had been born in the neighbourhood of the ancient seat of

the Herbert family, Poole Castle, in Montgomeryshire.

Loyalty to the family of Herbert had grown with her growth and

strengthened with her strength, and was only balanced by the attachment

to her country, which is generally more enthusiastic in the inhabitants

of mountainous districts than of any other.

The young girl had listened for hours together to old Evans's glowing

descriptions of the cloud-capped Snowdon, the green mountains, the

smiling valleys, the rapid streams, the wreaths of mist,--all the

varied beauties of her own Wales. From the windows of their convent

they could descry nothing but the flat and uninteresting country

which surrounds Bruges: but when the clouds formed themselves into a

thousand fantastic shapes, old Evans would point out to them how one

mass resembled such a mountain near their ancestral castle--how another

was the very picture of Snowdon when he wore his white cap of clouds,

as she familiarly expressed herself. She would describe to them the

peculiar customs of Wales--the snowy caps, the small black hats, of

the women,--would expatiate on the light form and airy step with which

they trod the mountain paths--would picture to them how beautiful were

the white sheep dotting the soft green of the steep and swelling hills,

till the youthful Lady Winifred's heart would burn within her to flee

to the home of her ancestors.

Nor, though Evans afterwards returned to her mistress, the duchess,

when she established herself in England, did these impressions fade

away.

The nunnery was all composed of English, most of whom had been driven

into exile by the adherence of their families to that of Stuart; thence

it naturally arose that all their ideas of prosperity, happiness,

splendour and gaiety, were blended with the memory of England. These

recollections also partook of the colouring thrown around them by the

joyousness of youth; so that perhaps in no spot of earth had patriotism

a firmer hold on the human heart than in the English Augustine convent

at Bruges. There also did King James the Third, as he was ever styled,

reign without a rival. To every inhabitant of the convent was his

cause endeared by the sacrifice of friends, of property, of rank, or

of situation; and all those whose age or disposition inclined them

to hope, rather than to despond, looked forward with superstitious

confidence to the time when "the king should enjoy his own again."

It was an additional grief to the Lady Winifred that her sister's vows

would prevent her ever witnessing the glorious restoration which was

to take place at some future and unknown period; and it was with a

feeling of desolation keener than any emotion she had experienced since

the grief of childhood at her father's death, that she retired for the

first time to her solitary apartment as one of the pensioners; while

her sister--her friend, her companion by day and by night--was now a

professed nun, immured within her narrow cell, and henceforward subject

to all the rules and regulations of the order.

The Lady Lucy's vocation had been so decided, and her only surviving

parent's consent so unhesitating, that her noviciate had been

shortened; and it seemed to Lady Winifred a sudden and violent

separation.

During the next year, her thoughts, which could no longer be

communicated as they arose in the hourly companionship of sisterhood,

turned more frequently than ever towards her native land; her studies

were all of the glorious deeds of England; she read none but English

poets; she carolled none but English ballads; and she hailed with joy

the intelligence that her eldest sister, the Lady Mary, was united to

the eldest son of Carril Viscount Molineux, and that an alliance was in

treaty between the Lady Frances and the Earl of Seaforth, for she hoped

her mother might wish for her society when her sisters were honourably

disposed of in marriage.

Since she had taken the vows, the Lady Lucy had unavoidably been

not only less her companion, but moreover the constant practice of

religious forms and exercises occupied her mind as well as her time.

She was unable to sympathise with Lady Winifred: her lot was cast

within her convent walls; and she would have considered it a vain

and sinful indulgence to let her thoughts wander towards scenes or

pleasures, which she had renounced. At the age of fifteen, therefore,

the Lady Winifred's mind had been thrown back upon itself; and it

gradually acquired a gentle reserve, a mild thoughtfulness, which

suited well the cast of her features. The placid brow, and the full

white eyelids,--the rounded cheek, which, except when some sudden

emotion called up an evanescent bloom, was pale as the white rose

consecrated to the Jacobite party,--were not calculated to strike at

first sight; but any one who had once looked upon her, could not choose

but look again. The dove-like eyes, the lips so full of expression, the

whole form so aristocratic in its mould, so feminine in its movements,

so delicate, so fragile,--all were rather like a poet's dream, than

a being formed to encounter the chances and changes of this rough

work-day world. Her slender throat gleamed white from the close,

narrow mantilla of black silk edged with lace, which, according to the

fashion of the time and country, was closely fastened down the front;

her soft brown hair was smoothly parted off her brow, and tucked under

the little white cap, enclosing the back of the head, which is still

worn in the Low Countries, and which formed part of the dress of the

young pensioners.

The character, the countenance, the features, and the habit, all seemed

in unison with each other.

Tales of the peerage and the peasantry · 第 1 / 30 章