Chapter 49

The harvest had been gathered, and the beautiful vales of Pendennyss were
shooting forth a second crop of verdure. The husbandman was turning his
prudent forethought to the promises of the coming year, while the castle
itself exhibited to the gaze of the wondering peasant a sight of
cheerfulness and animation which had not been seen in it since the days of
the good duke. Its numerous windows were opened to the light of the sun,
its halls teemed with the faces of its happy inmates. Servants in various
liveries were seen gliding through its magnificent apartments and
multiplied passages. Horses, grooms, and carriages, with varied costumes
and different armorial bearings, crowded its spacious stables and offices.
Everything spoke society, splendor, and activity without; everything
denoted order, propriety, and happiness within.

In a long range of spacious apartments were grouped in the pursuit of
their morning employments, or in arranging their duties and pleasures of
the day, the guests and owners of the princely abode.

In one room was John Moseley, carefully examining the properties of some
flints which were submitted to his examination by his attending servant;
while Grace, sitting at his side, playfully snatches the stones from his
hand, as she cries half reproachfully, half tenderly---

"You must not devote yourself to your gun so incessantly, Moseley; it is
cruel to kill inoffensive birds for your amusement only."

"Ask Emily's cook, and Mr. Haughton's appetite," said John, coolly
extending his hand towards her for the flint--"whether no one is
gratified but myself. I tell you, Grace, I seldom fire in vain."

"That only makes the matter worse; the slaughter you commit is dreadful."

"Oh!" cried John, with a laugh, "the ci-devant Captain Jarvis is a
sportsman to your mind. He would shoot a month without moving a feather;
he was a great friend to," throwing an arch look to his solitary sister,
who sat on a sofa at a distance perusing a book, "Jane's feathered
songsters."

"But now, Mosely," said Grace, yielding the flints, but gently retaining
the hand that took them, "Pendenyss and Chatterton intend driving their
wives, like good husbands, to see the beautiful waterfall in the
mountains; and what am I to do this long tedious morning?"

John stole an enquiring glance, to see if his wife was very anxious to
join the party--cast one look of regret on a beautiful agate that he had
selected, and inquired--

"Do you wish to go very much, Mrs. Mosely?"

"Indeed--indeed I do," said the other, eagerly, "if--"

"If what?"

"You will