Sir Edgar de Neville, the present proprietor, had become possessed of the Grange on the death of his father, towards the latter end of the reign of Mary. He had previously, while attending on the king-consort, Philip, in Spain, married a Spanish lady, who brought him little dower but her beauty, and, what he prized as highly, her affections. Even these possessions he was not destined to enjoy long; for shortly after his accession to the family estate, his lady died, leaving behind her an infant daughter, a sad memento, in the promise furnished by her scarcely dawning charms, of her own excellence and beauty. About this time Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne; and Sir Edgar, being a Roman Catholic, and opposed to the new order of things, which disqualified Roman Catholics for any state office or employment, was obliged to relinquish his public pursuits, and retire into the contracted circle of private life. But this change of fortune did not shake his allegiance, or induce him to lend any countenance, however limited, to those treasonable conspiracies which the oppressive enactments of the new legislature occasionally excited among the Roman Catholics. So unexceptionable was his conduct, that none of the host of spies which the jealousy of Burleigh, the Lord-Treasurer, and chief minister of Elizabeth, maintained in every part of the country, had ever been able to discover therein the slightest cause for mistrust or suspicion. In his excessive caution, he even denied himself the full exercise of his religion; and many a year passed by, subsequent to the accession of Elizabeth to the throne, without seeing his threshold once marked with the forbidden step of a priest. Thus he lived secluded for a considerable period; but ultimately, after a lapse of some years, he was joined in his retirement by a Spanish gentleman, named Don Felix di Corva, to whom he was related, through his deceased wife, in the degree of cousin. With this gentleman and his daughter, the fair Evaline, he was residing at the epoch which opens this history. These particulars were yet unknown to the cavalier who, at great risk to himself, had just rendered Sir Edgar such signal service, and whom the conclusion of our last chapter represented to have fallen in a swoon. On recovering his senses, he found himself disposed in a comfortable bed, in an upper chamber of Sir Edgar’s mansion. A skilful chirurgeon, whose residence was hard by, and whom a mounted servant had brought express to the mansion, stood by his bedside, and Sir Edgar himself was watching anxiously for his recovery. Directly this took place, the chirurgeon, with the promptitude of an alert practitioner, examined the wound in his arm, and, with little difficulty, succeeded in drawing forth the bullet. That effected, he carefully dressed the wound, and the cavalier, at his suggestion, was then left to repose.