beside it broken. Caroline turned impatiently away. "We must go round
to the other side," said she, "and try to make the deaf old man hear us."

"Oh, Carry!" cried Cecilia, "the great window is open;" and she ran up
the steps.

"That is lucky," said Caroline; and the rest followed Cecilia.

Evelyn now stood within the library of which Mrs. Merton had spoken. It
was a large room, about fifty feet in length, and proportionably wide;
somewhat dark, for the light came only from the one large window through
which they entered; and though the window rose to the cornice of the
ceiling, and took up one side of the apartment, the daylight was subdued
by the heaviness of the stonework in which the narrow panes were set, and
by the glass stained with armorial bearings in the upper part of the
casement. The bookcases, too, were of the dark oak which so much absorbs
the light; and the gilding, formerly meant to relieve them, was
discoloured by time.

The room was almost disproportionably lofty; the ceiling, elaborately
coved, and richly carved with grotesque masks, preserved the Gothic
character of the age in which it had been devoted to a religious purpose.
Two fireplaces, with high chimney-pieces of oak, in which were inserted
two portraits, broke the symmetry of the tall bookcases. In one of these
fireplaces were half-burnt logs; and a huge armchair, with a small
reading-desk beside it, seemed to bespeak the recent occupation of the
room. On the fourth side, opposite the window, the wall was covered with
faded tapestry, representing the meeting of Solomon and the Queen of
Sheba; the arras was nailed over doors on either hand,--the chinks
between the door and the wall serving, in one instance, to cut off in the