The good that she did in her neighborhood can not be told. She was kind
and hospitable, too, to her female guests, in her own haughty,
undemonstrative way; nevertheless, the wives and daughters of the
squirearchy regarded her with great awe and fear. Perhaps she felt this,
though she could not alter it, and the sense of isolation may have
deepened the shades on her sad face. She had only one thing on earth to
centre her affections on, and that one she worshiped with a love
stronger than her sense of duty; for, since his father died, she had
never been able to check Guy in a single whim.

When he had a hunting-party in the house, she sometimes would not appear
for days; but, however early he might start for the meet, I do not think
he ever left his dressing-room without his mother's kiss on his cheek.
She knew, as well as any one, how recklessly her son rode; nothing but
his science, coolness, and great strength in the saddle could often have
saved him from some terrible accident. Many times, in the middle of the
day's sport, the thought has come across me piteously of that poor lady,
in her lonely rooms, trembling, and I am very sure praying, for her
darling.

On the opposite side of the court were Guy's own apartments: first, what
was called by courtesy his study--an armory of guns and other weapons, a
chaos _e rebus omnibus et quibusdam aliis_, for he never had the
faintest conception of the beauty of order; then came the smoking-room,
with its great divans and scattered card-tables; then Livingstone's
bed-room and dressing-room.

Did the distance and the doors always deaden the sounds of late revels,
so as not to break Lady Catharine's slumbers? I fear not.