CHAPTER VIII.

Who's afraid?

THERE was a large, and far from intellectual party at Woodville this day at dinner, and Henry slipped away after dinner to arrange his rockwork in the upper room where Lucilla lived with a governess, whom Lady H—— had provided for her and little Robert. Lucilla did not always go down when there was a large party; and as the model, or whatever else my reader may choose to call it, was nearly finished, Henry got permission to devote this evening to it. The little Baronet, although his face was still red, was up and with his governess, and Henry thought him a very quiet, simple, pleasing child, and so fond of his sister that it seemed a pleasure to him only to look at her. The party below sat up late, and Henry went to bed early; but in the morning, Marten told him that it had been planned that they were to have one of Lord H―'s carriages after breakfast, and that Lady Anne and Miss Sandys would accompany them to take an airing. They were to go first, through Woodville park, and round by Elminton, and then leaving Spirehill on the left,

to return by the other side of the park, and thus, in about ten miles, they would pass through many beautiful parts of the neighbouring country. "But," said Henry, "I would much rather walk those ten miles."

"And wherefore ?" asked Marten.

"The ladies!" replied Henry, "why does not Lady Hgo, and why does she not take Lucilla ?"

"Lucilla!" repeated Marten; "truly, Milner, if you retain these childish tastes you will be abominably quizzed by the men at Oxford. If the understanding were not to grow with the growth, what a pack of pap-eating fools we should all be; you may well say, Adhuc non pueritia in nobis, sed, quod gravius est, puerilitas remanet.

"Very true," replied Henry, "but then the question should be, what things are childish, and what are not so? and may there not be old children as well as young ones? and then there is this difference, Marten, that a young child may improve, whilst there is but little hope for an old one."

"Don't prose, Henry," answered Marten; "if you prose and are sententious at Oxford, you will be dubbed a bore before you have been there forty-eight hours."

"What must I be then, Marten?" asked Henry, "for it seems I must neither be like a child, nor an old man; I must neither prose nor lisp; but tell me, how do you define the word "bore ?" "

"Define?" said Marten, "there again! at Oxford, we hate a fellow who defines. There's

Ladbrook, the most inveterate definer on the face of the earth; he can scarcely hear a word but he must be for defining it, for tracing it to its root, and finding out its derivations, and its uses and abuses.

"Well, then," said Henry, "I am not to define, and I am not to prose, and I am not to be like a child, what must I be, Marten ?" The other made no answer, and there the discussion dropped.

As soon as the breakfast was over, the barouche drove up to the door, with two outriders, and the two ladies having taken their seats, Marten and Henry placed themselves opposite to them, and away bowled the equipage. The morning was clear and bright, and all nature wore a smiling aspect; Henry was all life, and Marten thoughtful, but to what his thoughts tended does not appear. He was, however, very attentive to the young lady who sat opposite to him, and as she acknowledged herself to be timid to a weakness with her uncle's horses, so much more spirited than their own, it was necessary for him to console and assure her, and to entreat her to make herself easy. Lady Anne in the mean time talked much and rapidly; her favourite theme was her son, and what he intended to do when in possession of his title and estates, but it seemed to be of

little consequence to her whether any one listened or otherwise; she had mounted her hobby and was riding away with such self-complacency, that she stood in small need of popular applause.

Thus the party proceeded, passing through the park and along its northern boundary on the

public road, until being arrived at a place where two ways met, and where a finger-post pointed on the right hand to Elminton and Spire-hill, the postilion turned his horses and immediately began to ascend through woods on both sides. This ascent, which, in fact, was parallel with the dingle visited by Marten and Henry the day before, rendered it necessary that the motion of the carriage should be somewhat slower, and as the scenery through which it passed was very pleasing and various, from the many pretty thatched cottages, scattered here and there under the trees, where healthy groups of children were seen sporting before the doors, Miss Sandys bethought herself of talking sentimentally upon the occasion, and not without her wonted lisp expatiated on the happiness of a cottage life, the sweet simplicity of the village maiden, and the charms of pastoral scenery. It is undoubtedly very pretty and pathetic to talk of rural felicity and simple habits in a barouche lined with silk, but Marten was actually so deceived by these common-places of the young lady, as to imagine that they indicated an unambitious mind and a pure heart; still it must be observed, that he was so situated, just then, as to see the Grecian contour in its best point of view.

As they ascended, the woods became more dense and sombre; they had passed the domain of Woodville, and had now entered that of Elminton, but they could not obtain a view of the house on account of a very thick grove of pine which lay between the road and the building. Having at length reached the ut

most height, the straight road which Henry and Marten had seen the day before from the tumulus was before them, a fine bowling macadamized road, and when the light vehicle entered thereupon, they turned immediately from Spirehill, which lay about a quarter of a mile further on, and rolled away directly towards the west. Scarcely, however, had the gallant steeds taken this direction, before those within the carriage were aware that there was some sort of (to them unaccountable) gathering of many people on the sides of the way into which they had turned. There were women and children and big boys lining the road on both sides, some within the road, but more behind the gates and stiles which opened upon it; some being altogether in the rudest working dresses, and others exhibiting a more respectable appearance. Children's voices too, were heard crying when they saw the barouche, "Here they be, here they be, sure enough;" to which others answered, "No, no, they comes the wrong way, and when they does come, they will come on four legs and not on wheels."

"What can this mean ?" said Marten; "for what are these blackguards gathered here ?"

"I trust," said Miss Sandys, "that they will not frighten the horses-Ma! Mr. Marten, what can this mean ?"

"Don't be alarmed, Miss Sandys," replied Marten, "I beg, I entreat;" and he called to the people, and in no very gentle tone ordered them to keep out of the way.

But on went the equipage, and as it advanced the groups in the road became more