The boys were fourteen years old. So monotonous was their mother's
life that it was chiefly their growth that marked the length of her
residence in the castle. Otherwise there had been no change, except
that the elder Baroness was more feeble in her limbs, and still more
irritable and excitable in temper. There were no events, save a few
hunting adventures of the boys, or the yearly correspondence with
Ulm; and the same life continued, of shrinking in dread from the old
lady's tyrannous dislike, and of the constant endeavour to infuse
better principles into the boys, without the open opposition for
which there was neither power nor strength.
The boys' love was entirely given to their mother. Far from
diminishing with their dependence on her, it increased with the sense
of protection; and, now that they were taller than herself, she
seemed to be cherished by them more than ever. Moreover, she was
their oracle. Quick-witted and active-minded, loving books the more
because their grandmother thought signing a feud-letter the utmost
literary effort becoming to a noble, they never rested till they had
acquired all that their mother could teach them; or, rather, they
then became more restless than ever.
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