|Ascending a beautiful spiral oak staircase, the two young ladies soon
reached the gallery, which, it has already been mentioned, was situated
at the top of the house.
Like all the other rooms in the old mansion, the gallery was maintained
in its original state. At all events, it had undergone no alteration
since 1570, as appeared from an inscription above the door.
Exceedingly light and cheerful, as might be expected from the multitude
of windows, it seemed of immense size. It had a wooden roof--the rafters
being painted; and the panels were covered with tapestry, or hung with
family portraits. In the room were several curious old cabinets.
“I am always charmed with this gallery,” exclaimed Mildred, as she gazed
around it in admiration. “If I lived here, I should spend all my time in
it.”
“You would get tired of it,” rejoined Emmeline. “For my part, I prefer
my own little chamber, with its carved oak bedstead, and beautiful
bay-window.”
“Yes, your room is very pretty, but not to be compared with this grand
gallery.”
“The gallery is too large to be pleasant,” said Emmeline. “Indeed, I
rarely come here, unless we have company. But do sit down. I want to
have a little private and confidential talk with you.”
“I hope you have some affair of the heart to communicate,” said Mildred,
as she sat down on an old-fashioned sofa, covered with Utrecht velvet,
and just large enough for two, while Emmeline placed herself beside her,
and took her hand.
“You must know, then,” began Miss Barfleur, “that two or three years ago
I had a _tête-à-tête_ with a very handsome young man. We were seated on
this very sofa. Mamma and several other persons were present, but they
were too far off to overhear what passed.”
“That is one advantage of a very large room,” remarked Mildred. “But
I am sorry this _tête-à-tête_ occurred so long ago. I hope it has been
renewed.
“No; and I fear it never will be renewed,” sighed Emmeline. “But I have
not forgotten it.”
“Did it come to a positive proposal?” inquired Mildred.
“Not exactly; but if the gentleman _had_ proposed I am sure I should
have accepted him; and I feel I never can love any one else.”
“You think so now. I suppose he is still unmarried?”
“Shortly after the interview I have mentioned, he was engaged to another
person; but the engagement was broken off, and he is now free.”
“Have you seen him again lately?”
“Not for a long, long time, Mildred; but I love him still, despite his
inconstancy, and I should like to know something about him.”
“Emmeline,” said Mildred, regarding her fixedly, “you are not referring
to my brother Chetwynd?”
“To whom else could I refer?” was the reply. Mildred uttered an
exclamation of surprise.
“I perfectly remember Chetwynd speaking of you in rapturous terms,” she
said, “and telling me he had had a strong flirtation with you in the
gallery at Brackley Hall, but I had no idea you were at all serious on
the occasion. Oh, what a chance of happiness he has missed! Had he
been fortunate enough to possess you, how different would have been his
life!”
“I loved him!” said Emmeline, with emotion; “and I don't believe Teresa
Mildmay ever did.”
“I entirely agree with you,” remarked Mildred. “I have listened to your
recital with the deepest interest, dearest Emmeline, and I wish I could
give you a good account of Chetwynd, but I really cannot. I saw him the
other day, but only for a few minutes.”
“At Ouselcroft?” inquired Emmeline, eagerly.
“Yes. He came there quite unexpectedly, and left immediately.”
“I am afraid his hasty departure doesn't look as if he had made up his
quarrel with Mrs. Calverley.”
“Alas! no; and I greatly fear he never will become reconciled to her.
Perhaps you are aware he won't accept anything from her?”
“Yes; and I admire his spirit.”
“Still he is very foolish. He is punishing himself, not her.”
“But he adhered to his word. I shouldn't like him half so much if he
yielded.”
“Then your regard won't be lessened, for I feel certain he won't yield.”
“I judged him rightly, you see,” said Emmeline; “and I persuade myself he
will triumph in the end. And now, dearest Mildred, before we finish our
discourse, will you faithfully promise to let me know when you next see
him or hear from him?”
“I won't delude you, Emmeline. I don't expect either to see him or hear
from him. Sir Bridgnorth Charlton has very kindly undertaken to look
after him, but he may not have an opportunity of doing so. Unlike
anybody else, Chetwynd seems to shun those who love him or would serve
him.”
“I hope he won't shun me,” said Emmeline.
“Not if he could be made aware that you take an interest in him; but how
convey the information? He does not correspond with me, and I don't even
know his address, or what way a letter could reach him.”
“Then I must remain in the same state of uncertainty as ever,” said
Emmeline, in a despairing tone. “You give me small comfort, Mildred.”
“I pity you from my heart, dearest Emmeline; but comfort you I cannot.”
For a moment, Emmeline seemed overpowered by emotion. She then found
relief in tears, and her head dropped on Mildred's shoulder.
“Think of him no more--think of him no more!” cried Mildred. “He does not
deserve your love, I, his sister, say so.”
Emmeline made no response, but continued to sob.
Neither of them were aware that Lady Barfleur had entered the gallery.
Greatly surprised at what she beheld, her ladyship stood still.
Fortunately she did not hear the words uttered by Mildred, so she could
only guess at the cause of this sudden outburst of grief.
At length she announced her presence by a slight cough, and Mildred
perceived her.
“Calm yourself, dearest girl,” she whispered to Emmeline. “Your mother
is here.”
“Here!” exclaimed Emmeline, looking up. “Yes, I see. Can she have heard
anything?”
“I think not. But be calm, or you will betray yourself!”
Thereupon they both arose, and Emmeline did her best to repress her
emotion, and succeeded in forcing a smile.
“You will scold me, mamma, when you learn that I have been so foolish as
to weep at a very pathetic story told me by Mildred,” she said.
“I am glad to find it is nothing serious,” replied Lady Barfleur.
“Have you come to tell us that papa has captured the gipsies?”
“No; he has not yet returned,” replied Lady Barfleur. “I came to let you
know that Mrs. Calverly and Captain Danvers have gone to the garden.
Perhaps you may like to join them there.”
“Shall we, Mildred?”
“By all means,” was the reply. “I shouldn't think I had been at Brackley
unless I had had a stroll in the delightful old garden.”
“Don't wait for me; I'll follow,” said Lady Barfleur.
Glad to escape further questioning, the two delinquents flew down the
spiral staircase, and hastened to the garden.