"And in that arbour, Lucy--that is, my wife--sits in the summer evenings with her father and our children; and then--ah! see our pets come to welcome me," pointing to the deer, who had advanced within a few yards of him, but, intimidated by the stranger, would not venture within reach--"Lucy loved choosing her favourites among animals which had formerly been wild, and, faith, I loved it too. But you observe the house, sir: it was built in the reign of Queen Anne; it belonged to my mother's family; but my father sold it, and his son five years ago rebought it. Those arms belonged to my maternal ancestry. Look, look at the peacocks creeping along: poor pride theirs that can't stand the shower! But, egad, that reminds me of the rain. Come, sir, let us make for our shelter." And, resuming their progress, a minute more brought them to the old-fashioned porch. Cole's ring summoned a man, not decked in "livery gay," but, "clad in serving frock," who took the horses with a nod, half familiar, half respectful, at his master's injunctions of attention and hospitality to the stranger's beast; and then our old acquaintance, striking through a small low hall, ushered Clarence into the chief sitting-room of the mansion. CHAPTER LXIV. We are not poor; although we have No roofs of cedar, nor our brave Baiae, nor keep Account of such a flock of sheep, Nor bullocks fed To lard the shambles; barbles bred To kiss our hands; nor do we wish For Pollio's lampreys in our dish. If we can meet and so confer Both by a shining salt-cellar, And have our roof, Although not arched, yet weather-proof, And ceiling free From that cheap candle-bawdery, We'll eat our bean with that full mirth As we were lords of all the earth. HERRICK, from HORACE. On entering the room, Clarence recognized Lucy, whom eight years had converted into a sleek and portly matron of about thirty-two, without stealing from her countenance its original expression of mingled modesty and good-nature. She hastened to meet her husband, with an eager and joyous air of welcome seldom seen on matrimonial faces after so many years of wedlock. A fine, stout boy, of about eleven years old, left a crossbow, which on his father's entrance he had appeared earnestly employed in mending, to share with his mother the salutations of the Returned. An old man sat in an armchair by the fire, gazing on the three with an affectionate and gladdening eye, and playfully detaining a child of about four years old, who was struggling to escape to dear "papa"! The room was of oak wainscot, and the furniture plain, solid, and strong, and cast in the fashion still frequently found in those country houses which have remained unaltered by innovation since the days of George II.