“No,” said the cavalier, translating the sign, “not good, you mean to say? He who has just gone off?”
Oriole nodded assent—at the same time placing his fore and middle fingers, joined together, over his mouth; and then separating them as he carried them away from his lips:—thus signifying, that the words of the woodman would proceed in two directions: otherwise, that he was double tongued.
“A liar—a deceiver, you think, Oriole? I have some suspicion of it myself. Do not be afraid; I shall not trust him too far. But come! my faithful red-skin; you must be tired sitting up? Close the door, to keep out the rats and robbers; and get to your bed. I hope we shall have no more visitors to trouble us, till we’ve both had a good night’s rest. Go sleep, my lad.”
So saying, the cavalier lifted up the lamp; stepped forth from the library; and betook himself to his own sleeping apartment.
Volume One—Chapter Twenty Five.
On the bold brow of one of the central hills of Bulstrode Park, stood the dwelling—a palatial structure of red brick, with facings of white stone—the latter transported over the sea from the quarries of Caen.
The style of architecture was that known as “Norman”—with thick massive walls, having the circular Roman arch over the doors and windows.
In front was a space appropriated to the purposes of parterre and shrubbery; while to the rearward extended the stables and other offices—enclosing an extensive courtyard between them and the dwelling.