William's government had little need to fear such a one. So he
returned, as I have said, with a sobered heart and impoverished
fortunes, to his ancestral house, which had fallen sadly to ruin
while the owner had been a courtier, a soldier, and an exile. The
roads into the Trough of Bolland were little more than cart-ruts;
indeed, the way up to the house lay along a ploughed field before you
came to the deer-park. Madam, as the country-folk used to call Mrs.
Starkey, rode on a pillion behind her husband, holding on to him with
a light hand by his leather riding-belt. Little master (he that was
afterwards Squire Patrick Byrne Starkey) was held on to his pony by a
serving-man. A woman past middle age walked, with a firm and strong
step, by the cart that held much of the baggage; and high up on the
mails and boxes, sat a girl of dazzling beauty, perched lightly on
the topmost trunk, and swaying herself fearlessly to and fro, as the
cart rocked 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 possession 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