Rod. How sweet these solitary places are!
Ped. What strange musick Was that we heard afar off?
Curio. We've told you what he is, what time we've sought him, His nature and his name.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. The Pilgrim.
ONE day, as the ladies were seated in Mrs. Merton's morning-room, Evelyn, who had been stationed by the window hearing the little Cecilia go through the French verbs, and had just finished that agreeable task, exclaimed,-"Do tell me to whom that old house belongs, with the picturesque gable-end and Gothic turrets, there, just peeping through the trees,--I have always forgot to ask you."
"Oh, my dear Miss Cameron," said Mrs. Merton, "that is Burleigh; have you not been there? How stupid in Caroline not to show it to you! It is one of the lions of the place. It belongs to a man you have often heard of,--Mr. Maltravers."
"Indeed!" cried Evelyn; and she gazed with new interest on the gray melancholy pile, as the sunshine brought it into strong contrast with the dark pines around it. "And Mr. Maltravers himself--?"
"Is still abroad, I believe; though I did hear the other day that he was shortly expected at Burleigh. It is a curious old place, though much neglected. I believe, indeed, it has not been furnished since the time of Charles the First. (Cissy, my love, don't stoop so.) Very gloomy, in my opinion; and not any fine room in the house, except the library, which was once a chapel. However, people come miles to see it."
"Will you go there to-day?" said Caroline, languidly; "it is a very pleasant walk through the glebe-land and the wood,--not above half a mile by the foot-path."
"I should like it so much."
"Yes," said Mrs. Merton, "and you had better go before he returns,--he is so strange. He does not allow it to be seen when he is down. But, indeed, he has only been once at the old place since he was of age. (Sophy, you will tear Miss Cameron's scarf to pieces; do be quiet, child.) That was before he was a great man; he was then very odd, saw no society, only dined once with us, though Mr. Merton paid him every attention. They show the room in which he wrote his books."
"I remember him very well, though I was then but a child," said Caroline,--"a handsome, thoughtful face."
"Did you think so, my dear? Fine eyes and teeth, certainly, and a commanding figure, but nothing more."