280 THE MOTHS OF THE BANNERS. 



evoked? Has lie arisen from the bowels of Lord A ? s 



wasted property, in shape of a spirit of the mine? Has he 

 descended, heralded by the mockery of sable trappings, from 

 some rich but barren branch collateral ? Or has the present 

 Earl realized the golden dream of an alchemizing ancestor, and 

 extracted the powerful spirit from the fumes of the crucible ? 

 In neither of these shapes, and from neither of these sources, 

 has arisen the magician, who is working such changes in the 



house of A . The giant power has appeared as a Slave 



of the Ring, and has been evoked by a ceremony at the dese- 

 crated altar. The noble inheritor of the late Lord A 's 



poverty has intermarried with the ignoble heiress of a Lan- 

 cashire cotton-spinner ; and this is why the old chapel is put- 

 ting on its new garment. 



It is evening. The chapel-restorers, whose work is well 

 nigh accomplished, have all departed for the night, and the 

 moon is looking through the great eastern window on the 

 scene of restoration, on the renovated tombs, the reblazoned 

 hatchments, the repolished carvings, the renewed hangings, 

 and, proudly conspicuous over all, on a new banner, which 

 had been raised that morning to replace an old one, of which 

 time, damp, and moths had only left a tattered remnant. 



What a looking up of downcast fortunes is displayed and 

 typified in that coat of arms, fresh from the hands of an 

 heraldic tailor. Free from obscuring clouds, that brilliant 

 Azure, like a bright blue sky, betokens and gives promise of 



