The Tenants of Malory

residents of Cardyllian, the small and antique town close by, was at o

ones of the silent stable-yard, grass had crept over the dark avenue, which, making a curve near the gate, is soon lost among the sombre trees that throw a perpetual sh

and dim, tier above tier, undulating hills, broken by misty glens, and clothed with woods, rise from the opposite shore, and are backed, rang

een sward, the Green of Cardyllian, along which rows of pleasant hou

great civil wars of England, and on the oak beams of some are carved years of grac

s of tabards, lances, and the long-bow. Its other chief street strikes off at right angles, and up hill from this, taking its name from the ancient church, which, with its churchyard,

-grown walls, and here and there you light upon a fragment of that ancient town wall from which, in the great troubles which have helped to build up the glory of England,

, and mishaps. Necessity thus educates them in that mutual interest in one another’s affairs, and that taste for narrative, which pusillanimous people ca

Cardyllian without seeing Malory; and thus the

aches closely to the long ripple of the sea, and through the foliage are visible some old chimneys and glimpses of gray gables. The refectory of the friary that once stood there, built of gray and reddish stones, half hid in ivy, now does duty a

who will hear its sweet music no more, the bell had summone

d. There is a very sweet-toned organ, which they say is as old as the reign of Charles I., but I do not know how truly. In the porch are hung in chains two sacrilegious round-shot, which entered the church when Cromwell’s general opened his fire, in those days of sorrow when the liberties of England were in the throes of birth. Beside the brilliant st

quite relieved from the general pressure. It was the large panelled enclosure which stands near the communion rails, at the right as you look up

gantly slight young man, with the indescribable air of careless fashion; and I am afraid he was m

of the pew — he was very satisfactorily revealed, and elicited a considerable variety of criticism. Most people said he was very handsome, and so, I think, he was — a dark young man, with very large, soft eyes, and very brilliant even teeth. Some people

act that he was Mr. Cleve Verney, the nephew, not of the present Viscount Verney, but of the man who must very soon be

ly odd position. In more senses than one, a cloud rested upon him. For strong reasons, and great danger, he had vanished

in the minds of other Christians, he was himself, though not a creature ob

t the sides and back, sat a young lady, whose beauty riveted and engrossed his attention

with comfort, but no more. The oak casing round it is high. The light visits it through the glorious old eastern window, mellowed and solemnized — and in this chiar’oscuro

s the centre, included her — was dressed, he at first though

e scene and occasion, it was by no means sombre — a

k ribbed, dark gray silk, in great measure concealed by a short but ample cloak or coat of

n any one at all so lovely. He could not have fancied, in flesh and blood, so wonderful an embodiment of Guido’s portrait of Beatrice Cenci. The exquisite brow, and large hazel eye, so clear and soft, so bold and shy. The face voluptuous, yet pure; funeste but innocent. The r

no particular wish that they should. In fact, his interest was growing so strangely absorbing that something of that jealousy of observation

y, as much to her annoyance the fashionable morning paper respectfully called her, was at that time the incumbent. But though she held it with the inflexible grip of an

he seat had been opened to the congregation at large, in the then state of pressure, it would have been filled.

t up cousins whom he had neve

while the main column shuffles and pushes through the porch. So, when the Rector had pronounced his final blessing, Cleve Verney having improved the little silence that followed to get his hat and cane into his hand

tered, a friend did turn up whom he very little expected to see. A young man, though hardly so young as Cleve — good-

g, and shaking his hand moderately, but keeping his large eyes steadily o

id you see that beautiful creature in the Malory seat, right before you? By Jove, she’s a

said Cleve, as he saw the two ladies — the younger with one of those short black veils whi

d Sedley; “come along —

ks, toward the entrance at the further side of the churchyard, a small door opening upon a

ble. The quaint street, into which the stone stairs led t

ses confronting the dark ivied wall may be termed, the two young gentlemen saw the fi

and let them go on,” suggested Sedley in a whi

n have no turn for confidences, and Cleve Verney was not in the habit