We rode by way of Brendon town, Illford Bridge, and Babbrook, to avoid the great hill above Lynmouth; and the day being fine and clear again, I laughed in my sleeve at Uncle Reuben for all his fine precautions.  When we arrived at Ley Manor, we were shown very civilly into the hall, and refreshed with good ale and collared head, and the back of a Christmas pudding.  I had never been under so fine a roof (unless it were of a church) before; and it pleased me greatly to be so kindly entreated by high-born folk.  But Uncle Reuben was vexed a little at being set down side by side with a man in a very small way of trade, who was come upon some business there, and who made bold to drink his health after finishing their horns of ale.

“Sir,” said Uncle Ben, looking at him, “my health would fare much better, if you would pay me three pounds and twelve shillings, which you have owed me these five years back; and now we are met at the Justice’s, the opportunity is good, sir.”

After that, we were called to the Justice-room, where the Baron himself was sitting with Colonel Harding, another Justiciary of the King’s peace, to help him.  I had seen the Baron de Whichehalse before, and was not at all afraid of him, having been at school with his son as he knew, and it made him very kind to me.  And indeed he was kind to everybody, and all our people spoke well of him; and so much the more because we knew that the house was in decadence.  For the first De Whichehalse had come from Holland, where he had been a great nobleman, some hundred and fifty years agone.  Being persecuted for his religion, when the Spanish power was everything, he fled to England with all he could save, and bought large estates in Devonshire.  Since then his descendants had intermarried with ancient county families, Cottwells, and Marwoods, and Walronds, and Welses of Pylton, and Chichesters of Hall; and several of the ladies brought them large increase of property.  And so about fifty years before the time of which I am writing, there were few names in the West of England thought more of than De Whichehalse.  But now they had lost a great deal of land, and therefore of that which goes with land, as surely as fame belongs to earth—­I mean big reputation.  How they had lost it, none could tell; except that as the first descendants had a manner of amassing, so the later ones were gifted with a power of scattering.  Whether this came of good Devonshire blood opening the sluice of Low Country veins, is beyond both my province and my power to inquire.  Anyhow, all people loved this last strain of De Whichehalse far more than the name had been liked a hundred years agone.

[Illustration:  120.jpg Hugh de Whichehalse]

Hugh de Whichehalse, a white-haired man, of very noble presence, with friendly blue eyes and a sweet smooth forehead, and aquiline nose quite beautiful (as you might expect in a lady of birth), and thin lips curving delicately, this gentleman rose as we entered the room; while Colonel Harding turned on his chair, and struck one spur against the other.  I am sure that, without knowing aught of either, we must have reverenced more of the two the one who showed respect to us.  And yet nine gentleman out of ten make this dull mistake when dealing with the class below them!