CHAPTER III.

_Arrival of Glastonbury._

ADRIAN GLASTONBURY was a younger son of an old but decayed English

family. He had been educated at a college of Jesuits in France, and had

entered at an early period of life the service of the Romish Church,

whose communion his family had never quitted. At college young

Glastonbury had been alike distinguished for his assiduous talents and

for the extreme benevolence of his disposition. His was one of those

minds to which refinement is natural, and which learning and experience

never deprive of simplicity. Apparently his passions were not violent;

perhaps they were restrained by his profound piety. Next to his

devotion, Glastonbury was remarkable for his taste. The magnificent

temples in which the mysteries of the Deity and saints he worshipped

were celebrated developed the latent predisposition for the beautiful

which became almost the master sentiment of his life. In the inspired

and inspiring paintings that crowned the altars of the churches and the

cathedrals in which he ministered, Glastonbury first studied art; and it

was as he glided along the solemn shade of those Gothic aisles, gazing

on the brave groining of the vaulted roofs, whose deep and sublime

shadows so beautifully contrasted with the sparkling shrines and the

delicate chantries below, that he first imbibed that passion for the

architecture of the Middle Ages that afterwards led him on many a

pleasant pilgrimage with no better companions than a wallet and a

sketch-book. Indeed, so sensible was Glastonbury of the influence of the

early and constant scene of his youth on his imagination, that he was

wont to trace his love of heraldry, of which he possessed a remarkable

knowledge, to the emblazoned windows that perpetuated the memory and the

achievements of many a pious founder.

When Glastonbury was about twenty-one years of age, he unexpectedly

inherited from an uncle a sum which, though by no means considerable,

was for him a sufficient independence; and as no opening in the service

of the Church at this moment offered itself, which he considered it a

duty to pursue, he determined to gratify that restless feeling which

seems inseparable from the youth of men gifted with fine sensibilities,

and which probably arises in an unconscious desire to quit the

commonplace and to discover the ideal. He wandered on foot throughout

the whole of Switzerland and Italy; and, after more than three years’

absence, returned to England with several thousand sketches, and a

complete Alpine Hortus Siccus. He was even more proud of the latter than

of having kissed the Pope’s toe. In the next seven years the life of

Glastonbury was nearly equally divided between the duties of his sacred

profession and the gratification of his simple and elegant tastes.

He resided principally in Lancashire, where he became librarian to

a Catholic nobleman of the highest rank, whose notice he had first

attracted by publishing a description of his Grace’s residence,

illustrated by his drawings. The duke, who was a man of fine taste

and antiquarian pursuits, and an exceedingly benevolent person, sought

Glastonbury’s acquaintance in consequence of the publication, and from

that moment a close and cherished intimacy subsisted between them. In

the absence of the family, however, Glastonbury found time for many

excursions; by means of which he at last completed drawings of all our

cathedrals. There remained for him still the abbeys and the minsters

of the West of England, a subject on which he was ever eloquent.

Glastonbury performed all these excursions on foot, armed only with an

ashen staff which he had cut in his early travels, and respecting

which he was superstitious; so that he would have no more thought of

journeying without this stick than most other people without their

hat. Indeed, to speak truth, Glastonbury had been known to quit a house

occasionally without that necessary appendage, for, from living much

alone, he was not a little absent; but instead of piquing himself

on such eccentricities, they ever occasioned him mortification. Yet

Glastonbury was an universal favourite, and ever a welcome guest. In his

journeys he had no want of hosts; for there was not a Catholic family

which would not have been hurt had he passed them without a visit. He

was indeed a rarely accomplished personage. An admirable scholar and

profound antiquary, he possessed also a considerable practical knowledge

of the less severe sciences, was a fine artist, and no contemptible

musician. His pen, too, was that of a ready writer; if his sonnets be

ever published, they will rank among the finest in our literature.

Glastonbury was about thirty when he was induced by Lady Barbara Armine

to quit a roof where he had passed some happy years, and to undertake

the education of her son Ratcliffe, a child of eight years of age. From

this time Glastonbury in a great degree withdrew himself from his former

connexions, and so completely abandoned his previous mode of life, that

he never quitted his new home. His pupil repaid him for his zeal rather

by the goodness of his disposition and his unblemished conduct, than by

any remarkable brilliancy of talents or acquirements: but Ratcliffe, and

particularly his mother, were capable of appreciating Glastonbury; and

certain it is, whatever might be the cause, he returned their sympathy

with deep emotion, for every thought and feeling of his existence seemed

dedicated to their happiness and prosperity.

So great indeed was the shock which he experienced at the unexpected

death of Lady Barbara, that for some time he meditated assuming the

cowl; and if the absence of his pupil prevented the accomplishment of

this project, the plan was only postponed, not abandoned. The speedy

marriage of Sir Ratcliffe followed. Circumstances had prevented

Glastonbury from being present at the ceremony. It was impossible for

him to retire to the cloister without seeing his pupil. Business, if not

affection, rendered an interview between them necessary. It was equally

impossible for Glastonbury to trouble a bride and bridegroom with his

presence. When, however, three months had elapsed, he began to believe

that he might venture to propose a meeting to Sir Ratcliffe; but while

he was yet meditating on this step, he was anticipated by the receipt of

a letter containing a warm invitation to Armine.

It was a beautiful sunshiny afternoon in June. Lady Armine was seated in

front of the Place looking towards the park, and busied with her work;

while Sir Ratcliffe, stretched on the grass, was reading to her the last

poem of Scott, which they had just received from the neighbouring town.

‘Ratcliffe, my dear,’ said Lady Armine, ‘some one approaches.’

‘A tramper, Constance?’

‘No, no, my love; rise; it is a gentleman.’

‘Who can it be?’ said Sir Ratcliffe, rising; ‘perhaps it is your

brother, love. Ah! no, it is--it is Glastonbury!’

And at these words he ran forward, jumped over the iron hurdle which

separated their lawn from the park, nor stopped his quick pace until

he reached a middle-aged man of very prepossessing appearance, though

certainly not unsullied by the dust, for assuredly the guest had

travelled far and long.

‘My dear Glastonbury,’ exclaimed Sir Ratcliffe, embracing him, and

speaking under the influence of an excitement in which he rarely

indulged, ‘I am the happiest fellow alive. How do you do? I will

introduce you to Constance directly. She is dying to know you, and quite

prepared to love you as much as myself. O! my dear Glastonbury, you have

no idea how happy I am. She is a perfect angel.’

‘I am sure of it,’ said Glastonbury, seriously.

Sir Ratcliffe hurried his tutor along. ‘Here is my best friend,

Constance,’ he eagerly exclaimed. Lady Armine rose and welcomed Mr.

Glastonbury very cordially. ‘Your presence, my dear sir, has, I assure

you, been long desired by both of us,’ she said, with a delightful

smile.

‘No compliments, believe me,’ added Sir Ratcliffe; ‘Constance never pays

compliments. She fixed upon your own room herself. She always calls it

Mr. Glastonbury’s room.’

‘Ah! madam,’ said Mr. Glastonbury, laying his hand very gently on the

shoulder of Sir Ratcliffe, and meaning to say something felicitous, ‘I

know this dear youth well; and I have always thought whoever could claim

this heart should be counted a very fortunate woman.’

‘And such the possessor esteems herself,’ replied Lady Armine with a

smile.

Sir Ratcliffe, after a quarter of an hour or so had passed in

conversation, said: ‘Come, Glastonbury, you have arrived at a good time,

for dinner is at hand. Let me show you to your room. I fear you have

had a hot day’s journey. Thank God, we are together again. Give me your

staff; I will take care of it; no fear of that. So, this way. You have

seen the old Place before? Take care of that step. I say, Constance,’

said Sir Ratcliffe, in a suppressed voice, and running back to his wife,

‘how do you like him?’

‘Very much indeed.’

‘But do you really?’

‘Really, truly.’

‘Angel!’ exclaimed the gratified Sir Ratcliffe.