CHAPTER III.

AUNT MARGARET'S PARLOUR.

THE room was spacious and nobly proportioned. It was so lofty, that by the light of the lamp I could not clearly distinguish the carvings on the ceiling and cornices. The floor as well as the walls and ceiling was of polished dark oak. Nearly the whole of the side of the room opposite to me seemed to be covered with crimson drapery. It was in reality a large bay-window before which the curtains were drawn. Facing this window, and behind the sofa on which I lay, was the door; before it an Indian screen was unfolded. On one side was the great fireplace, with its high chimney-piece of carved white marble-a wonderful piece of sculpture which I was never tired of admiring in after-years. On either side of the fireplace was an arched recess filled with bookcases. Opposite the fireplace I observed what seemed like a very deep recess, but I could not see very well, because a curtain was drawn half-way across it. The only thing which I could see inside it was the edge of a gilded picture-frame gleaming near the opening. The furniture of this room was of a kind I had never seen before. It has since become very fashionable; and may be met with now in very inappropriate places-in modern papered drawing-rooms and silken boudoirs. In my aunt's parlour, the high-backed chairs, massy tables, and elaborately-carved cabinets of black oak, were in accordance with the room itself. Stately and picturesque as was the aspect of this room, it had also an air of comfort and quiet, such as one seldom sees, except in cosy little rooms. It was a proper lady's bower, but Lady Carleton would as soon have thought of tearing 'down the tapestry in the banqueting-hall as of turning Miss Hastings out of the oak-parlour; although she was once heard to tell a royal duke who was on a visit at Carleton, that "the housekeeper's room was the most comfortable, the most complete thing in the castle;" and that "the state-rooms were common-place and tawdry compared

with it." Much as her ladyship admired this room, there were reasons why Miss Hastings retained it.

In this oak-parlour my aunt passed all the best years of her life; and the oak-parlour was certainly sympathetic, and gave her back in its quiet beauty and cheerful aspect the benefits she had shed upon all around her. There was no accumulation of ornamental rubbish; there was plenty of space to move about in; the handsomest articles of furniture were useful, and those of the commonest utility, footstools, cornercupboards, writing and work-tables, etc., were remarkable for their beauty in that particular style of artistic upholstery which was the fashion among our great-great-grandfathers.

I lay, quiet enough, examining everything I could see with curious eyes; now, lost in admiration of the cherubs springing from the corners of a carved cabinet; and anon, endeavouring to make out the scene depicted on a china vase surmounting the said cabinet. At last, the beautiful marble carvings of the mantelpiece, displayed in strong relief as they were by the brightly blazing wood fire, riveted my attention. Those fierce-looking animals standing on their hind legs, each holding a great ball between its fore-paws, were griffins, I knew; for they were just like those I had seen on the gate. I thought I should very much like to see a real live griffin; and was wondering what country they came from, and whether there was any chance of my seeing one in a menagerie, where I had seen a lion and an ostrich, among other strange beasts, last year; when my infant musings were disturbed by a movement at the tea-table. I had not heard the previous conversation, which had lasted long, and had been carried on in a low familiar voice, for, at least, an hour after the meal was finished. Now, my aunt and my father were talking louder, and with animation; they had evidently forgotten me for the moment, and were deep in the luxury of recalling past pleasures. They both stood up, and my father grasped the pedestal of the lamp, saying, "I have heard nothing of Pergolese for ten years!-Where shall I carry this ?"

"To the oratory," replied Aunt Margaret, stepping lightly

across the room towards the great recess which I mentioned before. My father, holding the lamp, followed with slow and hesitating steps.

"Ah, you do not feel at ease on my slippery floor, I see!" said my aunt, turning to watch him with an affectionate smile. "What are they going to do?" thought I. In another moment my aunt drew back the beautiful curtain, and I saw what was in the recess.

It had been in former days an oratory, and was lighted in the daytime by a curious oval-shaped window, or œil-de-bœuf, of richly-coloured glass. This window was placed high up in the wall, so as to cast its light down upon the front of a beautiful chamber-organ, and a few other articles. During the daytime, the effect of the gorgeous colours, cast like a shattered rainbow all over that recess, was singularly beautiful. On seeing it for the first time, you would be impressed by a sense of mystery and dim magnificence. No painter could succeed in giving a faithful representation of that paradise of colouring; nor do I think it would look well in a picture ever so faithfully executed. I have tried many times to get something like the subdued richness, the intense yet thin and delicate hues of the shifting light, the dusky depth of shadow in the corners, and the vivid spots which at certain times lay like great carbuncles, emeralds, sapphires, and amethysts, upon the white keys of the organ, or the dark-gleaming floor.

On this first night, I saw no varied hues; but I felt a great admiration for that beautiful recess, even then. My father placed the lamp on a small table, and while my aunt selected a music-book from a stand and prepared to sing, I rose gently, and crept after them, to see better what was to be seen. The picture on the wall seemed to be a picture of that very organ, with a beautiful lady playing on it, while a group of angels were coming down from the sky to listen. It was a St. Cecilia by Correggio. There were two music-stands and a violin-case in one corner; a guitar and a harp-lute were on an old harpsichord; and these, with a small table and one or two seats, were all that could be seen, beside the picture and the

organ. But there was something that could not be seen, that attracted my attention irresistibly. The back of the organ did not touch the wall; there seemed a wide space behind it. What was to be seen there? I was about to run forward to look, when the sounds of the organ fixed me to the spot. I sat down gently on the folds of the long curtain, and grasped a portion of it, while I listened in rapture to the symphony; and then to my aunt's voice, as it gave forth with solemn sweetness the "Sanctum et terribile" of a mass by Pergolese. The end of that music I did not hear; for my overwrought spirit sank beneath its fatigues. I was found some time afterwards, fast asleep, and was carried to bed, where I slept many, many hours; a dreamless, refreshing sleep ;-heedless alike of my absence from my own home, the vastness of Carleton Castle, or the wonders of my Aunt Margaret's parlour.

CHAPTER IV.

A WEEK OF WONDER.

WHEN I awoke the sun was high in the sky, and pouring a very flood of radiance through a large window opposite my bed. I started up, and tried to recollect where I was. The room was much larger and more handsomely furnished than any chambers I had been accustomed to see. It had an air of grandeur which, though strange, was by no means unpleasant to me. Yes, This was certainly rather like my idea of a bed-chamber in a castle. But, still, I should have thought this had been the "lady's chamber" and not the housekeeper's. Again, when I recollected that this housekeeper was the sweet lady I had seen last night,—my aunt— my father's sister,-it appeared quite proper that she should sleep in so beautiful a room; in that great, carved bedstead with the blue silk drapery, which she had evidently occupied last night; that she should dress herself before that magnificent toilette, that she should sit in that throne-like chair,

and be looked down upon by those beautiful ladies and stately gentlemen whose pictures hung on the walls. I felt that my new-found relative was fitly lodged. But if this were the housekeeper's room, what must be the splendour of my Lady Carleton's? Perhaps it would be as beautiful as some of the apartments described in the Arabian Tales, where cedar and precious stones, carved ivory and beaten gold, form the chief materials for the builder and upholsterer!

I remember even now the intense admiration with which I looked upon everything I could see as I lay in bed, leaning on one elbow, with my little head on my hand. Considering what my parents were, I could not have been imbued with a vulgar taste for mere show; it was not the fine furniture and the spacious apartment only that struck me at the moment; it was the traditionary associations that moved me; the vision of power, wealth, and high rank which they called up. I did not know the value of what I saw, in a commercial or fashionable point of view; to me it was, even at that early age, worth argosies of historical and artistic treasure; value unknown in the auctioneer's account-books.

The pictures on the walls attracted me more than anything else. There were none of any antiquity. All were “counterfeit presentments" of living or recently deceased members of the Carleton family. Of these, two riveted my attention. They were full-length portraits of young men. They were evidently brothers, and from the similarity of age and appearance they would generally be taken for twins; as, indeed, they were. Their age seemed to be about twenty; both were handsome—with a strong likeness, and yet a strange unlikeness in the two faces. One had a gay and smiling aspect; the other looked sad, and a little fierce or wild. The latter frightened me at a first glance, and charmed me at the second. Child as I was, there was something in that lightning and cloud countenance which drew my eyes away from the happy face beside it. I sat upright to look at it better. Presently I fancied the large eyes gave out a kind glance at me. I looked and looked—and the more I looked the more I