1

At this rebuke the boy coloured, and hung his head; but added, as if pleading for his fault,

"It was Master Noble said so; and you know, sir, you have told us all to mind what he says, for he is always in the right.”

Sir Oliver bade him hastily go play; and the boy, taking his little niece by the hand, they ran out of the bowling-green at one angle, while the good old knight, not a little discomposed by the incident, ascended slowly to the terrace. Here he found old Philip, the keeper of the buttery, seated at the far end, in the shade, in the calm enjoyment of a pipe. Instead of the wonted word of pleasant greeting, Sir Oliver told him, in a rough tone, to go and seek instantly for Master Noble, and send him thither.

While the kind old serving man went away with his message in no comfortable mood for the young tutor was as great a favourite in kitchen as in hall- the old gentleman paced the terrace with a leisurely and thoughtful step; and made frequent stops and soliloquies on the

strange and unexpected words and sentiments which he had just heard from the lips of his open and artless boy. While thus engaged, we will leave him for a few moments to place before our reader the state of the family at the time of which we write.

At the village of Milverton, in Warwickshire, upon a sweet spot above the valley of the Avon, Sir Oliver Heywood, the descendant of a successful and honoured merchant, occupied a fair and pleasant mansion erected in the reign of Elizabeth by his wealthy father.

The family at Milverton House consisted of the worthy knight, a maiden sister, his daughter

an only child—and a boy who was the son of a favourite nephew slain in the German wars, in which he had been led to engage as a diversion of his grief on the loss of a beloved wife.

In addition to these regular members of the family there was a little orphan girl, whom his benevolent sister had adopted. This sister, Mistress Alice, was two years the junior of Sir Oliver, and had attained the age of sixty-one. She had taken up her abode with him at the

death of Lady Heywood, about four

years be

fore the period of which we now speak.

Katharine, his daughter, was in her twentieth year, and his nephew's son was about fourteen years of age.

Master Noble, of whom mention has been made, was tutor to the boy Arthur, and resided with the family.

This young scholar was the son of an old school-fellow and friend of Sir Oliver's, who held the benefice of Cheddar, in Somersetshire. Cuthbert Noble, like his father before him, had been educated at William of Wykeham's school of Winchester; but not succeeding so far as to obtain a fellowship at New College, Oxford, which is the usual aim and reward of the scholars upon the Winchester foundation, he had proceeded to Cambridge, and there graduated with good report. He had been now six months at Milverton.

Sir Oliver's birthday was ever a high festival at the manor-house. This year it was the pleasure of his daughter to celebrate it by a masque; and all the arrangements for this masque were

referred by Mistress Katharine to Cuthbert Noble. He cheerfully undertook them; and having gained some experience in these matters at college, and having some skill in painting, set himself to prepare scenes then a very recent invention. As, with a painting brush in his hand, he was standing before a scene, nearly finished, and dashing in the white and foamy water upon canvass, that was fast changing into a torrent, falling from rocks, and rushing through a lonely glen, — and as he stood back

surveying the effect, and humming the fragment of a song, Philip came slowly up the gallery, and said gravely, ·

"Master Cuthbert, Sir Oliver wants to speak with you directly."

"Where is he?"

"In the garden, on the lower terrace; and I wish he was looking more pleasant: - it's my thought, Master, there's something wrong; for it is not a small matter that can vex him."

As

Cuthbert put down his brush and palette, and proceeded slowly towards the terrace. he was descending the wide steps which led to

it, he could not but observe that the good knight was serious, if not angry.

"Master Cuthbert," said Sir Oliver with an air of gravity and displeasure," I have sent for you to hear from your own lips some little explanation or defence of a matter that hath come to my knowledge by the accident of a child's artless utterance. It may be that it was only a word lightly dropped by you- a passing levity—a lapsus of the tongue, not of the judgment such an indiscretion as I may pass over in one of your unripe age and little experience, without further correction than a faithful reproof, and a timely warning of the danger of such vain observations, and of their unsuitableness and impropriety in one who fills so important an office in my family, and hath so far enjoyed my confidence as to have doubtless a great influence for evil or for good."

This long preface Sir Oliver delivered, pacing slowly on the terrace with his eyes bent upon the ground. Cuthbert walked by his side, anxious for the direct charge, now too plainly whispered from within by his own swift thoughts.