"Farewell, then," said Lumley, as he mounted; and in a few moments he
was out of sight.



CHAPTER II.

"O world, thou wast the forest to this hart,

* * * * *

Dost thou here lie?"--/Julius Caesar/.

AS Lumley leapt from his horse at his uncle's door, the disorder and
bustle of those demesnes, in which the severe eye of the master usually
preserved a repose and silence as complete as if the affairs of life
were carried on by clockwork, struck upon him sensibly. Upon the trim
lawn the old women employed in cleaning and weeding the walks were all
assembled in a cluster, shaking their heads ominously in concert, and
carrying on their comments in a confused whisper. In the hall, the
housemaid (and it was the first housemaid whom Lumley had ever seen in
that house, so invisibly were the wheels of the domestic machine carried
on) was leaning on her broom, "swallowing with open mouth a footman's
news." It was as if, with the first slackening of the rigid rein, human
nature broke loose from the conventual stillness in which it had ever
paced its peaceful path in that formal mansion.

"How is he?"

"My lord is better, sir; he has spoken, I believe."