union had diminished its romantic ardour, perhaps, but it had rather
increased its rational tenderness, and Sir Halbert Glendinning's long
and frequent absences from his castle had prevented affection from
degenerating by habit into indifference.

When the first eager greetings were paid and received, the Lady gazed
fondly on her husband's face as she remarked, "You are altered,
Halbert--you have ridden hard and far to-day, or you have been ill?"

"I have been well, Mary," answered the Knight, "passing well have I
been; and a long ride is to me, thou well knowest, but a thing of
constant custom. Those who are born noble may slumber out their lives
within the walls of their castles and manor-houses; but he who hath
achieved nobility by his own deeds must ever be in the saddle, to show
that he merits his advancement."

While he spoke thus, the Lady gazed fondly on him, as if endeavouring
to read his inmost soul; for the tone in which he spoke was that of
melancholy depression.

Sir Halbert Glendinning was the same, yet a different person from what
he had appeared in his early years. The fiery freedom of the aspiring
youth had given place to the steady and stern composure of the
approved soldier and skilful politician. There were deep traces of
care on those noble features, over which each emotion used formerly to
pass, like light clouds across a summer sky. That sky was now, not
perhaps clouded, but still and grave, like that of the sober autumn
evening. The forehead was higher and more bare than in early youth,
and the locks which still clustered thick and dark on the warrior's
head, were worn away at the temples, not by age, but by the constant