To reach this room I had to go up-stairs to the first landing of the
house. I had then to turn to the left, and to descend some four or five
steps; a narrow passage here led me to a spiral staircase which
communicated directly with the Chamber of Myths.
This quaint and beautiful room was evidently an afterthought. It was
built when the rest of the house was completed. It stood alone, and I
found afterwards that it was supported from the ground by massive
pillars. No pains and no money had been spared upon it. The middle of
London, or at least the middle of Bloomsbury, could scarcely contain a
lovely view. Geoffrey Rutherford had clearly apprehended this fact when
he built the octagon chamber: he did the next best thing he could for
it; he supplied it with painted glass, of modern workmanship it is true,
but exquisite in colour and artistic in design. The eight windows which
the room contained were narrow, high, and pointed; they were filled in
with glass copied from the designs of masters. Geoffrey must have
travelled over a great part of Europe to supply himself with these
designs. He must have gone with an artist as his companion, for in no
other way could these perfectly painted glass pictures from old Flemish
Cathedrals and old Roman Council Chambers have been so exquisitely and
perfectly reproduced.
"I wonder if he copied the designs himself," I thought. "I remember
that my mother told me what an accomplished artist Cousin Geoffrey was.
Oh, what lovely glass! I could sit here and study. I will sit here and
study. If I cannot acquire art in any other way, I will learn it from
Cousin Geoffrey's windows."
The Chamber of Myths had always exercised a fascination over me, but
never more so than to-day. I was so excited by what I saw that I forgot
for a time the mission on which I had come. The subjects of the
different windows represented Woman in various guises and forms: there
was the mother with the baby in her arms: there was the maiden crowning
herself with spring flowers, there was the wife tending the vines and
watching for the return of her absent husband. One window was larger
than the rest, and it contained what I supposed was a copy of a
well-known masterpiece. The world's greatest Friend sat in the centre
of a group of children. Some had climbed into His arms, some leant
against His knees, some knelt at His feet, the tender and gracious hands
were raised in blessing, the eyes shone with the highest love. In the
background a mother stood, worship in her face; adoration, humility,
joy, thanksgiving in her smile. This picture of Christ blessing
children made me weep.
"Oh, if I could but see the original," I murmured.
I did not know then what I afterwards learnt that I was looking at the
original; that this painted window was the work, the greatest work, of
the eccentric owner of the house. Between each of the pointed windows
hung valuable Gobelin tapestries, some the work of the great French
artist, Noel Coypel; others by the splendid workman, Jans. I learned
the value of these rare tapestries later on; now I scarcely noticed
them, so absorbed was I in the fascination of the windows. Each window
contained a deep seat, which was approached by oak steps, highly
polished and black with age. The floor of the room was also of black
oak. The roof was high and pointed, made of oak and exquisitely carved.
Behind each of the tapestry curtains I discovered a small locked
cupboard. There were four oak bureaus in the room, each of which
contained ten separate locked drawers. A work-table of ivory, inlaid
with lovely _lapis lazuli_, was also locked. There was an old-fashioned
writing-table, and three or four oak chests. Everything that could be
fitted with a key in this chamber had a lock which was securely
fastened. I thought it highly probable that each lock would have to be
fitted with a separate key. In this case, after making a careful
calculation, I found that if I were to acquaint myself with all the
secrets contained in the Chamber of Myths, I must be supplied with about
sixty separate keys. No wonder the task before me seemed to increase in
magnitude as I approached it.
Opening my brown leather bag, I laid the keys which Mr Gray had given
me on a slender Queen Anne table, which stood near one of the tapestry
recesses. My first task was to arrange them according to size. This
occupied me until two o'clock, when a slow, somewhat heavy step on the
stairs warned me that Mrs Drake was approaching. I did not want her to
see me at my task, and hastened to meet her. She had provided a dainty
little lunch for me; not in the kitchen, but in the queer and desolate
sitting-room where I had first seen Cousin Geoffrey. I ate my chop off
old Sevres china, and drank a refreshing draught of water out of a tall,
rose-coloured Flemish glass. I was far too excited to linger long over
the meal. The moment I had satisfied my hunger, I ran back to the
octagon room, and continued my task of arranging and sorting the keys.
I had provided myself with paper and ink, and as I fitted each key to
its lock I fastened a label to it. Night overtook me, however, before
my work was a quarter done. I put the keys once more into the brown
bag--the unsorted ones at the bottom, those with the labels at the top.
I went down-stairs, desired Drake to fetch a cab for me, told him I
should return to the house early the next day, and took the precious bag
containing the keys back to the lawyer's office. He was within, and
evidently expecting me.
"Well, Miss Rosamund," he said, "and what luck have you had?"
"None up to the present," I replied. Then I continued: "There must have
been a sad want of order in some person's brain not to have had these
keys labelled."
"Ah, you have found that out, have you?"
"Yes, and I am rectifying the omission."
"Good girl--clever, methodical girl."
"Here is the bag, Mr Gray; I will come to fetch it early to-morrow."
"Oh, you will, will you?"
"Certainly; expect me before eleven o'clock." I bade Mr Gray
good-night, and took an omnibus which presently conducted me to the
neighbourhood of Paddington Station.
In course of time I got home. My father and George had arrived before
me. It was quite contrary to the doctrines of our house for a woman to
assert her independence in the way I was doing. My conduct in staying
out in this unwarrantable fashion called forth contemptuous glances from
my father, sighs of regret from my gentle mother, and sharp speeches
from my brother George. I bore all with wonderful patience, and ran
up-stairs to take off my things.
As I was arranging my thick hair before the glass, and giving a passing
thought to my dear little sister Hetty's curling brown locks, and
remembering how deftly she had tried to arrange mine according to modern
fashion, a knock came to my door, and George stood outside.
"You don't deserve me to treat you with any confidence. You are the
most curious mixture of childishness, folly, and obstinacy that I have
ever had the pleasure of meeting," he said in his cold voice; "but,
nevertheless, as you were good enough to confide in me last night, and
as your communication was of importance, you will be pleased to learn
that I was able to persuade my father not to see Chillingfleet."
"I am delighted," I said, running up to George, and kissing him, very
much against his will. "How did you manage it, George? Do tell me."
"Dear me, Rosamund, how impulsive you are! What does it matter how I
managed the thing, provided it was done? I think it due to you to let
you know that I have taken steps to prevent our father ever becoming
acquainted with Jack's wickedness; and now let us drop this revolting
subject at once and for ever."
"I am more than willing," I replied, "provided we do not drop Jack as
well."
"What do you mean? Do you suppose I am going to have anything further
to say to the fellow?"
"I cannot say whether you are or not, George, but I am. Jack must live;
Hetty must be cared for."
"Hetty! How dare you speak to me of that low-born girl?"
"I know nothing about her birth," I retorted. "I only know that she Is
a lady at heart; that she is a sweet little thing, and that I love her
tenderly."
"I don't want to stand here any longer, Rosamund, to listen to your
childishness."
"Just as you please, George."
"One word, however, before I go," continued my brother. "You will have
the goodness to give up this gadding into town in future, and will
arrange to stay quietly at home with our mother."
"I am sorry I cannot oblige you," I replied. "It will be necessary for
me to go back to town early to-morrow, and to continue to do so for
several days."
"I shall ask my father to forbid you."
"Very well, George; you can please yourself, only I warn you, you had
better not."
"What do I care for your warnings?" He slammed the door behind him, and
went down-stairs in the worst possible humour.
I wondered if George had quite made up his mind to give up the girl whom
he loved, and who possessed a little money, and if this was the reason
he was even crosser than his wont.
This thought helped me to be patient with him; and I went down-stairs to
supper, resolved to show no ill-temper, but to make myself as agreeable
as I possibly could.
I had never in my whole life wilfully disobeyed a direct command of my
father's, and I did not want to begin to do so now. I took it upon me,
therefore, to make myself agreeable to him. I put his worsted-work
slippers before the fire to warm. I pulled forward his favourite
arm-chair, and cut the pages of a new magazine and laid it by his side.
George was not in the room. My father received these attentions without
any outward show of thanks; but when I came close to him for a moment,
he bent forward and patted my head.
"It's a good thing to have you at home again, Rose," he said.
"Father," I said, suddenly, "I should always like to do what _you_ wish,
of course; but I need not obey George, need I?"
"Obey George!" echoed my father. "I should think not, indeed. The
fellow is growing much too hectoring. Obey George! What next, I
wonder?"
"He wants me not to go to town to-morrow," I said; "but if you give me
leave, I may, may I not?"
"Of course, child, of course."
"Then I'll tell George that I have your leave. It isn't as if I were a
little girl, is it? I shall always wish to please you and mother."
My father muttered something which might have signified approval or the
reverse; but when George came into the room and began, according to my
father's verdict, to hector me once again, he received a sudden and
unlooked-for check.
I could not help feeling myself quite double, and even deceitful, when I
discovered that I had so easily gained my point.