They quitted the place as Ruth and her companions entered. They
had talked lightly and merrily in the ante-room, but now their
voices were hushed, awed by the old magnificence of the vast
apartment. It was so large that objects showed dim at the further
end, as through a mist. Full-length figures of county worthies
hung around, in all varieties of costume, from the days of
Holbein to the present time. The lofty roof was indistinct, for
the lamps were not fully lighted yet; while through the
richly-painted Gothic window at one end the moonbeams fell,
many-tinted, on the floor, and mocked with their vividness the
struggles of the artificial light to illuminate its little
sphere.

High above sounded the musicians, fitfully trying some strain of
which they were not certain. Then they stopped playing, and
talked, and their voices sounded goblin-like in their dark
recess, where candles were carried about in an uncertain wavering
manner, reminding Ruth of the flickering zig-zag motion of the
will-o'-the-wisp.

Suddenly the room sprang into the full blaze of light, and Ruth
felt less impressed with its appearance, and more willing to obey
Mrs. Mason's sharp summons to her wandering flock, than she had
been when it was dim and mysterious. They had presently enough to
do in rendering offices of assistance to the ladies who thronged
in, and whose voices drowned all the muffled sound of the band
Ruth had longed so much to hear. Still, if one pleasure was less,
another was greater than she had anticipated.