The eyes so purely bright, the exquisite harmony of
colouring between the dark (not too dark) hair and
the ivory of the skin; such sweet radiance in the
lip when it broke into a smile. And it was said
that in her maiden day, before Caroline Lyndsay became
Marchioness of Montfort, that smile was the most joyous
thing imaginable. Absurd now; you would not
think it, but that stately lady had been a wild, fanciful
girl, with the merriest laugh and the quickest tear,
filling the air round her with April sunshine.
Certainly, no beings ever yet lived the life Nature
intended them to live, nor had fair play for heart
and mind, who contrived, by hook or by crook, to marry
the wrong person!
The interior of the
great house.—The British Constitution at
home
in a family party.
Great was the family gathering that Christmas-tide
at Montfort Court. Thither flocked the cousins
of the House in all degrees and of various ranks.
From dukes, who had nothing left to wish for that
kings and cousinhoods can give, to briefless barristers
and aspiring cornets, of equally good blood with the
dukes,—the superb family united its motley
scions. Such reunions were frequent: they
belonged to the hereditary policy of the House of
Vipont. On this occasion the muster of the clan
was more significant than usual; there was a “Crises”
in the constitutional history of the British empire.
A new Government had been suddenly formed within
the last six weeks, which certainly portended some
direful blow on our ancient institutions; for the House
of Vipont had not been consulted in its arrangements,
and was wholly unrepresented in the Ministry, even
by a lordship of the Treasury. Carr Vipont had
therefore summoned the patriotic and resentful kindred.
It is an hour or so after the conclusion of dinner.
The gentlemen have joined the ladies in the state
suite, a suite which the last Marquess had rearranged
and redecorated in his old age, during the long illness
that finally conducted him to his ancestors.
During his earlier years that princely Marquess had
deserted Montfort Court for a seat nearer to London,
and therefore much more easily filled with that brilliant
society of which he had been long the ornament and
centre,—railways not then existing for
the annihilation of time and space, and a journey to
a northern county four days with posthorses making
the invitations even of a Marquess of Montfort unalluring
to languid beauties and gouty ministers. But
nearing the end of his worldly career, this long neglect
of the dwelling identified with his hereditary titles
smote the conscience of the illustrious sinner.
And other occupations beginning to pall, his lordship,
accompanied and cheered by a chaplain, who had a fine
taste in the decorative arts, came resolutely to Montfort
Court; and there, surrounded with architects and gilders
and upholsterers, redeemed his errors; and, soothed
by the reflection of the palace provided for his successor,
added to his vaults—a coffin.
