ELLEN NEVILLE. 
147 
confiscated, and the heir of many a noble race 
slept his long sleep upon the battle-field,—that 
young Marchmont, who had risen to the rank of 
general in the army of the Commonwealth, came 
to take possession of the ancient manor-house of the 
Nevilles, armed with the broad seal of Cromwell 
and his Parliament: for the last of the Nevilles had 
died a warrior’s death, and fallen, fighting nobly, at 
the battle of Marston Moor. 
While yet clothed in deep mourning for the death 
of her brother, Ellen Neville received the com¬ 
mands of the stern Protector to resign for ever 
the home of her forefathers into the hands of a 
stranger. A strict inventory had been taken of 
every article which the house contained, and saving 
her own wardrobe and a miniature of her mother, 
she left the hearth of her ancestors a homeless 
and penniless orphan. The shadows of evening 
were settling down upon the old park, when, fol¬ 
lowed by her attendant, Phoebe, she walked with 
sad heart down the long avenue of ancient elms, in 
the direction of the lodge. It was still very early 
in the spiing, and, before quitting the park-gates, 
she stooped down and gathered two or three pale 
Snowdrops, and then, with a heavy sigh, left 
the park, while the massy iron gates swung behind 
her as if with a heavy and complaining sound. 
She turned round to take a farewell look, just as 
