What had caused so great a change--for at one time Parker's Dew, or Castle De la Mark, as it was called, was noted for its courtly splendour and unbounded hospitality--no one knew. Some attributed it to the early death of Lady De la Mark; others to the influence of Bloodworth. Squire Brimble, who seldom allowed himself to speak of his brother, when he did give an opinion said, 'It's the love of money--that's enough to account for anything.'
The growing infirmities of Sir Valary had kept him long a prisoner in his chamber, at the door of which now, as described by Mrs. Gillies, sat his daughter Marjory. There was nothing heroine-like in her appearance. Low in stature and plain in feature, she owed all her attraction to the force of her character and the peculiarity of her early training. Indomitable courage shone in her dark eyes, and patience, the result of a deeply-exercised spirit, gave a sweet calm to her face. Her dress was, from necessity, somewhat singular. For a long period she had been limited to her mother's wardrobe, and, careless of the fashion in which the garments were made, she wore them without change, as her mother had left them.
'He sleeps so long!' said Marjory, her pale face resting against the chamber door.
'I've known him sleep longer, miss,' said Mrs. Gillies, peering up the spiral staircase. 'If you'd just please to taste these fresh cakes that Shady has brought in, and the chocolate, that's drying up from standing these hours, I should be thankful;' and she displayed the cakes, the choice of which had exercised greatly Shady's discriminating powers. Marjory, prevailed on, left her to watch. 'You know, miss,' said the faithful creature, 'if you take ill, we have no power to keep off that man when he comes; and one way we're all alike, for the highest can't do without eating and drinking, no more than the lowest.' Marjory did not at all, at that moment, feel exalted above the conditions of humanity. Bloodworth's behaviour had convinced her that he possessed some secret militating against her father's honour, and that this was the source of the power he exercised over him.
The loneliness in which she had been reared had made her very self-reliant. She had borne much personal inconvenience in silence; and if it had been only for herself that she had now to suffer or to do, she would not have been slow in her plan of acting; but it seemed necessary that some one, more equal than she was to cope with the steward, should step in between him and her father, for whose very life she trembled, if such excitement as he had that day suffered should be renewed. Yet, if her suspicions were correct, how could she, without treading on dangerous ground, take any one into her counsels? and, indeed, who was there to whom she could refer? To her uncle, her natural protector after her father, she had been a stranger for many years; and she had grown from childhood to womanhood with no other companion than her father. One there was, indeed, and to him she inclined to open her heart, and that one was Dr. Cruden, the high-minded and skilful physician, who was the sole visitor of gentle blood at Parker's Dew.