"Nay," said Snare, "an thou stick that up, thou hadst better put the seas between thyself and Britain. The Knight of Charlecote will be driven stark staring mad."
"Well," said Shakespeare, "we shall see how matters progress. If Sir Thomas bears me hard, as true as thy name is Diccon Snare, I will nail this lampoon to his park-gates, and have it sung to filthy tunes through the town."
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE GARDEN.
It was one bright morning, a few days after the events we have recorded that a gay and gallant-looking party rode into the grounds of Clopton and approached the Hall.
The mansion, which had for some time remained shut up, now appeared to be resuming something of its former state. Its latticed windows were once more open, whilst servants were to be seen moving about the offices and gardens, and even the bark and bay of dogs were heard in the kennel.
The good Sir Hugh had suddenly returned to his home from the Low Countries. Time had gradually ameliorated his deep grief, and restored the equilibrium of his mind. He felt tired of camps and military service, and his thoughts turned to the green woods and sweet scenes of his own home.
A feeling we suspect which almost all soldiers, however much ambition and the love of profession may keep them in harness, more or less experience. There is a period in the lives of all men in which the occupations of a country life form a sort of recreation after the toils and cares of the world. That which we disregard in youth, amidst the gaieties and frivolities and ambitions of life, in age seems to come as a natural repose. A wise provision of nature, and which in earlier times was perhaps better exemplified. To youth, the bright weapon, the helm, the shield, and the defence. To riper age, the plough, the hoe, and the dibble.
Sir Hugh had returned to his sweet home, and, albeit a settled melancholy was on his spirits, he could better enjoy that home now that absence had rendered it less painful to him to look upon, and he returned with renewed zest to his old employments. He was in his garden, giving directions to his gardener about the different plants, and flowers, and shrubs, and turning over in his mind the varieties which in his daughter's time she had loved to cultivate—