162 POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
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 warriors’ death, and fallen, 
fighting nobly, at the battle of Marstoon Moor. 
While yet clothed in deep mourning for the death 
of her brother, Ellen Neville received the commands 
of the stern Protector to resign forever 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 pennyless orphan. The 
shadows of evening were settling down upon the old 
park,' when, followed by her attendant, Phcebe, she 
walked with sad heart down the long avenue of an¬ 
cient elms, in the direction of the lodge. It was still 
very early in the spring, and, before quitting the park- 
gates, she stooped down and gathered two or three 
pale Snowdrops, and then, with a heavy sigh, quitted 
the park, while the massy iron gates swang behind 
