bridge proceeded one of the magnificent avenues of oak-trees which
led up to the lordly lodge, full four miles off, right across
Sheffield Park.

The Bridgefield estate had been a younger son's portion, and its
owners had always been regarded as gentlemen retainers of the head of
their name, the Earl of Shrewsbury. Tudor jealousy had forbidden the
marshalling of such a meine as the old feudal lords had loved to
assemble, and each generation of the Bridgefield Talbots had become
more independent than the former one. The father had spent his
younger days as esquire to the late Earl, but had since become a
justice of the peace, and took rank with the substantial landowners
of the country. Humfrey, his eldest son, had been a gentleman
pensioner of the Queen till his marriage, and Richard, though
beginning his career as page to the present Earl's first wife, had
likewise entered the service of her Majesty, though still it was
understood that the head of their name had a claim to their immediate
service, and had he been called to take up arms, they would have been
the first to follow his banner. Indeed, a pair of spurs was all the
annual rent they paid for their estate, which they held on this
tenure, as well as on paying the heriard horse on the death of the
head of the family, and other contributions to their lord's splendour
when he knighted his son or married his daughter. In fact, they
stood on the borderland of that feudal retainership which was being
rapidly extinguished. The estate, carved out of the great Sheffield
property, was sufficient to maintain the owner in the dignities of an
English gentleman, and to portion off the daughters, provided that
the superfluous sons shifted for themselves, as Richard had hitherto
done. The house had been ruined in the time of the Wars of the
Roses, and rebuilt in the later fashion, with a friendly-looking