"My mother is a discreet matron as need be, but my father was not always one of the gloomy rulers of this gloomy land: he had his wild days, though it is treason to speak of them now; and, in sooth, he sometimes forgets that young blood runs swifter than old--How he lectures poor Richard!" "The Lord Richard is not cast in his great father's mould; he is a gentler and a feebler spirit; one who loves to hear of, or to read of, great deeds, rather than to act them. Lady Fauconberg is more like your father." "My sister Mary would certainly have made a fine man. It was one of nature's blunders to convert such coarse clay into a woman." "She has a noble mind, Frances, though not so holy a one as the Lady Claypole." "Well, dear Constance, you are very good to bear with me. Suppose, now, my father, instead of sending me here, had commanded that I should sojourn and mystify with that righteous Mrs. Lambert, whom he magnifies into a model of holiness; what a time I should have passed! Why, the nuns, whom the holy Sexburga placed up yonder, had not as much loneliness; don't you think the place was admirably adapted for an elopement? I am certain--nay, you need not smile--for I am quite certain, that every one of the seventy-seven maidens, of whom history tells us, including the charming Ermenilda herself, fully made up their minds to run off with the Danes before they came to the island. I wish, though, that your father could be persuaded to consider this only a summer residence, for it must be a little dreary, I think. Not that I feel it such, for you are so kind; and just as we were beginning to grow a little dull or so, a flourish--and enter Walter De Guerre, under the auspices of Major Wellmore! Ha! ha! ha! Well it has amused me so much. He certainly is a most charming person; and if _one_, who is not here, were here, I should be inclined to tease him a little by my vast admiration of this gentleman. By the way, Sir Willmott Burrell has little reason to thank Major Wellmore for this new introduction; though it must be quite delightful to make either a lover or a husband jealous. Ah, I see you do not agree with me--I did not expect you would; but, do you know, I have taken it into my head that this De Guerre is not De Guerre." "Indeed! who is he then?" "That, Constantia, is exactly what I want to know--and I think you could unravel the mystery." "My dear Frances, you are a very unaccountable person; always playing false yourself, you hardly ever give people credit for being true." "You are vastly complimentary. Ah, Constance, when you come to Hampton, you must learn some court observances. When we were children together, we spoke truth." "Were we not very happy then?" "We were," said Frances, drawing a heavy sigh; "but how changed the times since then! Constance, those who walk along a precipice may well dread falling. Gay, giddy as I am, Cromwell has not a child who glories in him more than I do."