Lady Rooke, the childless widow, mourned long for her husband, rarely ventured beyond the boundary of the park, but spent most of her time in endeavouring to benefit the neighbouring farmers, who had not gratitude enough even to thank her for her services.

There was one exception. Young Gamecock, the owner of a small estate adjoining Rookwood Park, was full of gratitude, and often called upon Lady Rooke to thank her for her kindness. Mr. Gamecock was an exceedingly good-looking fellow, dressed handsomely, always wore spurs, and had more manners than any other farmer within twenty miles; and, therefore, it is not to be wondered at that Lady Rooke somewhat encouraged these gratitude-visits. Her Ladyship often complained how dull and lonely she was, living without a protector in that old mansion, whose walls were covered with ghastly portraits of departed Rookes; and whose ancient casements rattled at night when the wind blew in its fitful fancies, and made the very stairs groan as it rushed up and down in its capricious impetuosity.

Young Gamecock listened to the good dame's stories, told her he knew no fear, that the wind might whistle as it willed for him; and that if he owned such a mansion, that the old pictures should decorate the garrets, where the bats and sparrows held undisputed possession.

At last people began to notice that young Gamecock went very often to Rookwood Hall, and many surmises were soon afloat. Mr. Crow, a cousin of the deceased Baronet's, laughed at the silly talk, as he called it, and said that her Ladyship was about to make Mr. Gamecock her bailiff. Mr. Howlet, the solicitor from the neighbouring village, shook his head, looked "wondrous wise," but said nothing; and that pert gentleman, Mr. Sparrow, reported that he had peeped in at the window one day, and knew more than he chose to tell. So matters went on for a time. At last, one fine day Mr. Howlet was seen to drive up to the Hall, and take in with him a large document. The whole village was astir: something must be going on, every one said; and within two days it was known that the document in question was a marriage-settlement, and that the wedding of Lady Rooke and young Mr. Gamecock was to take place in the following week.

Alas, for the uncertainty of this world! No sooner did the news of the approaching marriage reach the ears of Mrs. Partlett and her daughters—the aunt and cousins of Mr. Gamecock—than they vowed it should never be. It appears that Mr. Gamecock had long been affianced to Miss Hennie Partlett, and the news of his desertion so preyed on her delicate constitution, that she pined away and lost all her good looks. Fired at the indignity offered to his family, her brother Redcomb sought his opportunity, met Mr. Gamecock as he was crossing the lawn in front of Rookwood Hall, and challenged him to mortal combat. Gamecock, in haste to visit his betrothed, passed on without heeding his adversary; but the valiant Redcomb flew at him, and with one stroke beat him to the earth. Gamecock rose, shook himself, and attacked Redcomb with such impetuosity, that at first he retreated; but, collecting his strength, he returned to the attack, and Gamecock again bit the dust. Lady Rooke was sitting by a window, watching for the arrival of her lover, whence she saw the whole of this deadly contest. At Gamecock's second fall she flew to his rescue, and arrived just as a fresh battle was begun. Urged by her fears for her beloved, her Ladyship threw herself between the combatants; but it was at a most unlucky moment, for a blow from Redcomb struck her on the temples, and she fell senseless between them. The combatants forgot their quarrel, and carried the poor lady into the room; a messenger was despatched for Dr. Stork, but before he could arrive, her Ladyship had breathed her last.

Rookwood Hall passed into another family of the Rookes, distantly related; and after two years dallying, Miss Hennie Partlett, forgetting former grievances, became Mrs. Gamecock, and Redcomb gave her away.