Isabel was an
admirable herbalist, and expert in supplying all the wants of a secluded
family; robust with health and exercise, yet neither coarse in her
person, vulgar in her manners, nor sordid in her mind. Constantia was
mistress of every elegant accomplishment; she painted, sung, touched the
lute with exquisite sweetness; melted at every tale of woe; loved all
the world except her father's enemies, and was willing, as far as her
slender frame permitted, to perform the lowest offices that would
promote the welfare of others. Eustace was a year older than the girls,
and just on the verge of fifteen, tall, and manly in mind and person,
panting for enterprize, full of hope that he was able to correct the
disorders of the times, and sure that his name would be recorded in the
annals of his country, as one who loved his church and his King, and
hated the Roundheads and Fanatics. He soon drew the attention of his
hearers by wishing he had been at Ribblesdale on the night of the riot,
vowing he would have beat the whole party, and tossed Davies into the
flames.
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