And forthwith, “Cicely, if thou art not already baptized,” was uttered over the child, and Cicely became her name.  It cost Susan a pang, as it had been that of her own little daughter, but it was too late to object, and she uttered no regret, but took the child to her heart, as sent instead of her who had been taken from her.

Master Heatherthwayte bade them good speed, and Master Langston stood at the door of his office and waved them a farewell, both alike unconscious of the rejoicing with which they were left behind.  Mistress Talbot rode on the palfrey sent for her use, with the little stranger slung to her neck for security’s sake.  Her boy rode “a cock-horse” before his father, but a resting-place was provided for him on a sort of pannier on one of the sumpter beasts.  What these animals could not carry of the household stuff was left in Colet’s charge to be despatched by carriers; and the travellers jogged slowly on through deep Yorkshire lanes, often halting to refresh the horses and supply the wants of the little children at homely wayside inns, their entrance usually garnished with an archway formed of the jawbones of whales, which often served for gate-posts in that eastern part of Yorkshire.  And thus they journeyed, with frequent halts, until they came to the Derbyshire borders.

Bridgefield House stood on the top of a steep slope leading to the river Dun, with a high arched bridge and a mill below it.  From the bridge proceeded one of the magnificent avenues of oak-trees which led up to the lordly lodge, full four miles off, right across Sheffield Park.

The Bridgefield estate had been a younger son’s portion, and its owners had always been regarded as gentlemen retainers of the head of their name, the Earl of Shrewsbury.  Tudor jealousy had forbidden the marshalling of such a meine as the old feudal lords had loved to assemble, and each generation of the Bridgefield Talbots had become more independent than the former one.  The father had spent his younger days as esquire to the late Earl, but had since become a justice of the peace, and took rank with the substantial landowners of the country.  Humfrey, his eldest son, had been a gentleman pensioner of the Queen till his marriage, and Richard, though beginning his career as page to the present Earl’s first wife, had likewise entered the service of her Majesty, though still it was understood that the head of their name had a claim to their immediate service, and had he been called to take up arms, they would have been the first to follow his banner.  Indeed, a pair of spurs was all the annual rent they paid for their estate, which they held on this tenure, as well as on paying the heriard horse on the death of the head of the family, and other contributions to their lord’s splendour when he knighted his son or married his daughter.  In fact, they stood on the borderland of that feudal retainership which was being rapidly extinguished.  The estate, carved out of the great