text:  After viewing with anxiety the wild deportment of poor Mary's husband I happened one day to pass along the lane I have described as skirting the garden of the manor-house on my way homewards to my farm; and on plunging my eyes as usual into the verdant depths of the clipped yew-walks visible through the iron-palisades was struck by the contrast afforded to the scene I had just witnessed not only by its aristocratic tranquillity but by the grave and subdued deportment of Lady Robert Stanley who was sauntering in one of the alleys accompanied by a favourite dog I had often seen following her sister in former days and looking the very picture of contented egotism