said Helen, "that the same thing had happened to Marshal Turenne, that he gave the same advice to a little child."

Lady Cecilia said she owed Beauclerc an acknowledgment down to her saddle-bow, for the compliment to her general, and a bow at least as low to Ellen, for making her comprehend it; and, having paid both debts with graceful prompt.i.tude, she observed, in an aside to Beauclerc, that she quite agreed with him, that "In friendship it was good not to have to do with fools."

He smiled.

"It is always permitted," continued Cecilia, "to woman to use her intellects so far as to comprehend what man says; her knowledge, of whatever sort, never comes amiss when it serves only to ill.u.s.trate what is said by one of the lords of the creation. Let us note this, my dear Ellen, as a general maxim, for future use, and pray, since you have so good a memory, remember to tell mamma, who says I never generalise, that this morning I have actually made and established a philosophical maxim, one that may be of some use too, which cannot be said of all reflections, general or particular."

They rode on through a lane bright and fragrant with primroses and violets; gradually winding, this lane opened at last upon the beautiful banks of the Thames, whose "silver bosom" appeared at once before them in the bright sunshine, silent, flowing on, seeming, as Beauclerc said, as if it would for ever flow on unaltered in full, broad, placid dignity. "Here," he exclaimed, as they paused to contemplate the view, "the throng of commerce, the ponderous barge, the black steam-boat, the hum and din of business, never have violated the mighty current. No lofty bridge insultingly over-arches it, no stone-built wharf confines it; nothing but its own banks, coeval with itself and like itself, uncontaminated by the petty uses of mankind!--they spread into large parks, or are hung with thick woods, as nature wills. No citizen's box, no chimera villa destroys the idea of repose; but nature, uninterrupted, carries on her own operations in field, and flood, and tree."

The general, less poetically inclined, would name to Helen all the fine places within view--"Residences," as he practically remarked, "such as cannot be seen in any country in the world but England; and not only fine places such as these, but from the cottage to the palace--'the homes of Old England' are the best homes upon earth."

"The most candid and sensible of all modern French travellers," said Beauclerc, "was particularly struck with the superiority of our English country residences, and the comfort of our homes."

"You mean M. de Stael?" said the general; "true English sense in that book, I allow."

When the general and Beauclerc did agree in opinion about a book, which was not a circ.u.mstance of frequent occurrence, they were mutually delighted; one always feeling the value of the other's practical sense, and the other then acknowledging that literature is good for something.

Beauclerc in the fulness of his heart, and abundance of his words, began to expatiate on M. de Stael's merits, in having better than any foreigner understood the actual workings and balances of the British const.i.tution, that const.i.tution so much talked of abroad, and so little understood.

"So little understood any where," said the general.

Reasonably as Beauclerc now spoke, Helen formed a new idea of his capacity, and began to think more respectfully even of his common sense, than when she had heard him in the Beltravers cause. He spoke of the causes of England's prosperity, the means by which she maintains her superiority among nations--her equal laws and their just administration.

He observed, that the hope which every man born in England, even in the lowest station, may have of rising by his own merits to the highest eminence, forms the great spring of industry and talent. He agreed with the intelligent foreigner's observation, that the aristocracy of talent is superior in England to the aristocracy of birth.

The general seemed to demur at the word superior, drew himself up, but said nothing in contradiction.

"Industry, and wealth, and education, and fashion, all emulous, act in England beneficially on each other," continued Beauclerc.

The general sat at ease again.

"And above all," pursued Beauclerc,--"above all, education and the diffusion of knowledge----"

"Knowledge--yes, but take care of what kind," said his guardian. "All kinds are good," said Beauclerc.

"No, only such as are safe," said the general. The march of intellect was not a favourite march with him, unless the step were perfectly kept, and all in good time.

But now, on pa.s.sing a projecting bend in the wood, they came within sight of a place in melancholy contrast to all they had just admired.

A park of considerable extent, absolutely bereft of trees, except a few ragged firs on each side of a large dilapidated mansion, on the summit of a bleak hill: it seemed as if a great wood had once been there.

"Old Forest!" exclaimed the general; "Old Forest, now no more! Many a happy hour, when I was a boy, have I spent shooting in those woods," and he pointed to where innumerable stumps of trees, far as the eye could reach, marked where the forest had once stood: some of the white circles on the ground showed the magnificent size of those newly felled.

Beauclerc was quite silent.

The general led the way on to the great gate of entrance: the porter's lodge was in ruins.

A huge rusty padlock hung upon one of the gates, which had been dragged half open, but, the hinge having sunk, there it stuck--the gate could not be opened further. The other could not be stirred without imminent hazard of bringing down the pier on which it hung, and which was so crazy, the groom said, "he was afraid, if he shook it never so little, all would come down together."

"Let it alone," said the general, in the tone of one resolved to be patient; "there is room enough for us to get in one by one--Miss Stanley, do not be in a hurry, if you please; follow me quietly."

In they filed. The avenue, overgrown with gra.s.s, would have been difficult to find, but for deep old cart-ruts which still marked the way. But soon, fallen trees, and lopped branches, dragged many a rood and then left there, made it difficult to pa.s.s. And there lay exposed the white bodies of many a n.o.ble tree, some wholly, some half, stripped of their bark, some green in decay, left to the weather--and every here and there little smoking pyramids of burning charcoal.

As they approached the house--"How changed," said the general, "from that once cheerful hospitable mansion!"--It was a melancholy example of a deserted home: the plaster dropping off, the cut stone green, the windows broken, the shutters half shut, the way to the hall-door steps blocked up. They were forced to go round through the yards. Coach-houses and stables, grand ranges, now all dilapidated. Only one yelping cur in the great kennel. The back-door being ajar, the general pushed it open, and they went in, and on to the great kitchen, where they found in the midst of wood smoke one little old woman, whom they nearly scared out of her remaining senses. She stood and stared. Beauclerc stepped towards her to explain; but she was deaf: he raised his voice--in vain. She was made to comprehend by the general, whose voice, known in former times, reached her heart--"that they only came to see the place."

"See the place! ah! a sad sight to see." Her eyes reverted to Beauclerc, and, conceiving that he was the young lord himself, she waxed pale, and her head shook fearfully; but, when relieved from this mistake, she went forward to show them over the house.

As they proceeded up the great staircase, she confided to her friend, the general, that she was glad it was not the young lord, for she was told he was a fiery man, and she dreaded his coming unawares.

Lady Cecilia asked if she did not know him?

No, she had never seen him since he was a little fellow: "he has been always roaming about, like the rest, in foreign parts, and has never set foot in the place since he came to man's estate."

As the general pa.s.sed a window on the landing-place, he looked out.--"You are missing the great elm, Sir. Ah! I remember you here, a boy; you was always good. It was the young lord ordered specially the cutting of that, which I could not stomach; the last of the real old trees! Well, well! I'm old and foolish--I'm old and foolish, and I should not talk."

But still she talked on, and as this seemed her only comfort, they would not check her garrulity. In the hope that they were come to take the house, she now bustled as well as she could, to show all to the best advantage, but bad was the best now, as she sorrowfully said. She was very unwilling that the gentlemen should go up to inspect the roof. They went, however; and the general saw and estimated, and Beauclerc saw and hoped.

The general, recollecting the geography of the house, observed that she had not shown them what used to be the picture-gallery, which looked out on the terrace; he desired to see it. She reluctantly obeyed; and, after trying sundry impossible keys, repeating all the while that her heart was broke, that she wished it had pleased G.o.d never to give her a heart, unlock the door she could not in her trepidation. Beauclerc gently took the keys from her, and looked so compa.s.sionately upon her, that she G.o.d-blessed him, and thought it a pity her young lord was not like him; and while he dealt with the lock, Lady Cecilia, saying they would trouble her no further, slipped into her hand what she thought would be some comfort. The poor old creature thanked her ladyship, but said gold could be of no use to her now in life; she should soon let the parish bury her, and be no cost to the young lord. She could forgive many things, she said, but she could never forgive him for parting with the old pictures. She turned away as the gallery-door opened.

One only old daub of a grandmother was there; all the rest had been sold, and their vacant places remained discoloured on the walls. There were two or three dismembered old chairs, the richly dight windows broken, the floor rat-eaten. The general stood and looked, and did not sigh, but absolutely groaned. They went to the shattered gla.s.s door, which looked out upon the terrace--that terrace which had cost thousands of pounds to raise, and he called Cecilia to show her the place where the youngsters used to play, and to point out some of his favourite haunts.

"It is most melancholy to see a family-place so gone to ruin," said Beauclerc; "if it strikes us so much, what must it be to the son of this family, to come back to the house of his ancestors, and find it thus desolate! Poor Beltravers!"

The expression of the general's eye changed.

"I am sure you must pity him, my dear general," continued Beauclerc.

"I might, had he done any thing to prevent, or had he done less to hasten, this ruin."

"How? he should not have cut down the trees, do you mean?--but it was to pay his father's debts----"

"And his own," said the general.

"He told me his father's, sir."

"And I tell you his own."

"Even so," said Beauclerc, "debts are not crimes for which we ought to shut the gates of mercy on our fellow-creatures--and so young a man as Beltravers, left to himself, without a home, his family abroad, no parent, no friend--no guardian friend."

"But what is it you would do, Beauclerc?" said the general.

"What you must wish to be done," said Beauclerc. "Repair this ruin, restore this once hospitable mansion, and put it in the power of the son to be what his ancestors have been."

"But how--my dear Beauclerc? Tell me plainly--how?"

"Plainly, I would lend him money enough to make this house fit to live in."

"And he would never repay you, and would never live in it."

"He would, sir--he promised me he would."

"Promised you!"