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She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. Do not believe it, Madam. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. Like the Castle, which it resembled in all respects except that it was destitute even of a barrack-bedstead, the Red Room was reserved for state-prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the jail, as has before been mentioned, was crowded by the Preston rebels. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. A young man was playing the banjo. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. Though he walked by the side of the governor, he seldom exchanged a word with him, but appeared wholly absorbed in the contemplations inspired by a broadbowled Dutch pipe. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously. The Bitchster strikes again. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town.
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