Chapter XVIII: An Elizabethan Ancestor

"Have you been waiting long?" asked Meg, swinging a large key.

"Close on an hour," replied Dan, ruefully; "I never passed so tedious a sixty minutes in my life."

Meg laughed, and clinked the key against the iron bars. She was on one side of the gate, and he was on the other, but they could see and smile, which was a better fate than befell Pyramus and Thisbe when divided by that cruel wall. Dan felt as though he were on the eve of storming an enchanted castle to release a spellbound princess. He mentioned this fancy to Meg, who raised her eyebrows.

"You must be thinking of Miss Linisfarne then," she said, "for no imprisoned princess would possess a key."

"Very well, Meg, let us change the fairy story, and say that you are Bluebeard's wife. She had a key, and made bad use of it. But are you going to keep me outside Paradise?"

"Paradise!" repeated Meg, not seeing the veiled compliment. "Why do you call the park Paradise?"

After his bad fortune of the previous day, Dan was careful not to hurt her susceptibilities, and explained his compliment in a most prosaic fashion. Were he to speak plainly, she might refuse him admittance.

"Paradise," said he gravely, "is a Persian word, and signifies a large enclosure filled with wild beasts."

"That is not a pretty thing to say, seeing that I am in this enclosure."

"Oh! if you want compliments, I----"

"No, no! I want no compliments," she cried hastily, putting the key in the lock; "you must not think I am so foolish as to believe all you say."

"Do I, then, talk such sad nonsense?"

"I'm afraid so. Pray do not talk any more, but enter into your wild-beast enclosure."

The heavy gates opened with a rumble, and Dan stepped in. When he was on the right side Meg locked the gates once more. He was rather amused at so useless a precaution.

"Are you afraid of thieves here?"

"No. But Miss Linisfarne does not like strangers to enter the park. She will let no one see her."

"A female veiled prophet! Why does she live so secluded?"

"I don't know!" said Meg, coldly; "she never told me, and I do not ask questions."

"That is a hint for me to be silent, I suppose. Well, I won't inquire further."

They were walking up the grass-grown avenue, and Dan was amazed at the savageness of the place. Meg was quite used to it, and saw nothing strange in the desolation. It did not seem to lower her spirits, but rather had the opposite effect, as she began to whistle. A very pretty whistle she had, and executed an operatic air with much precision and sweetness. Dan laughed. She was so unconventional that he could not help his merriment.

"Why do you laugh, Daniel?" said Meg, severely.

"I beg your pardon, but I never heard a young lady whistle before."

"Oh, I know it is wrong--Miss Linisfarne is always scolding me; but I cannot break off the habit. Are you shocked?"

"By no means. I am charmed."

"Another compliment. If you make any more I shall leave you, sir."

"What, in this tropical jungle! Do not be so cruel. Remember I am a stranger, and entitled to hospitality."

Meg looked at him doubtfully, not understanding such irony; but Dan looked so grave when he spoke, that she passed over his remark in silence.

"This is the house," she said, as they turned a corner and came within view of Farbis Court; "and yonder is Miss Linisfarne, walking on the terrace."

Before them stretched the long façade of Farbis Court, looking desolate and ruinous in the strong light of the afternoon. A figure in white was slowly pacing up and down the terrace, but as they advanced towards the steps vanished into the house. Dan turned to his companion for an explanation.

"She sees you are a stranger," said Meg, gravely, "and will now shut herself up in her own room till you leave."

"Has she---- Oh, I beg your pardon; I must not ask questions. But your Miss Linisfarne is a most mysterious lady. One would think she had committed a crime."

"Ah! You have been listening to foolish tales in the village."

"On my honour, I have not. It was a mere idea."

"Avery incorrect one," said the girl, who seemed offended at the imputation cast on her benefactress. "Do not say anything about Miss Linisfarne when you are inside. She may overhear you."

"Not if she stays in her room."

His guide laughed, but vouchsafed no explanation of her merriment. She knew perfectly well that Miss Linisfarne would be close beside them, to examine Dan thoroughly, but this information she did not think it wise to impart to her companion. Laying her finger on her lips to command silence, she led him into the dusky hall, and closed the great door with a resonant crash.

It was the first time that Dan had set foot in the house of his ancestors, and he looked curiously at his surroundings. The hall was flagged with black and white marble in a diamond pattern, and on all sides arose tall white pillars, which vanished in the obscurity of the roof. Indeed, the whole house was pervaded by a twilight atmosphere, which Dan guessed was caused by the dirty state of the windows and the lavish use of stained glass. It smelt mouldy, and their footsteps echoed in the large empty spaces in a most dreary fashion. One could well imagine it to be filled with ghostly company at night.

"Do phantoms haunt this place?" whispered Dan, as they ascended the wide staircase. "I can well imagine lords and ladies in silks and satins and powdered hair and slender canes coming out in the darkness."

"I never saw any of them," replied Meg, in a matter-of-fact tone; "and I have been all over the house at midnight. Surely you don't believe in ghosts!"

"No. But I could forgive any one who did while dwelling in this house."

"It _is_ rather dreary," said Meg, casting a careless look around. "I wonder Lord Ardleigh doesn't pull the place down. But I don't suppose he knows he possesses the mansion."

"Why not?"

"Because he would not neglect it so much if he did. Why doesn't he come down and stay here, and see what he can do to help the weavers of Farbis? He is very wealthy, you know."

"Is he, indeed?" said Dan, greatly amused at having himself discussed so openly.

"Very wealthy; but he wastes all his money in London."

"You do not care for him, I see."

"I think he ought to be more alive to the responsibilities of his position," said Meg, primly. "What are you laughing at now?"

"Is that sentiment your own?" said Dan, ignoring the question.

"No. It is Mr. Jarner's. But we can talk of this later on. Here is the picture-gallery."

It was a dreary-looking place; and Dan shuddered as he walked under the rows of frowning portraits. These were his ancestors--these men in armour, these stern-faced Puritans, these sad-looking ladies. Farbis Court and its desolation seemed to cast a shadow over all. He felt like a culprit under the menacing gaze of knight and dame.

"Upon my word, they are a melancholy lot!" said their graceless descendant. "I don't think they approve of my intrusion. I don't see a merry face among them."

"Sir Alurde is merry-faced."

"As I am his double, I am glad that he is. I should not care to wear such sour looks. Where is the gentleman?"

"You are standing close to him."

Dan turned with a start, as though he expected to find a ghost at his elbow, and beheld a picture of himself on the wall. The resemblance was very striking, and he wondered that Meg did not guess he was Lord Ardleigh, with such a proof before her.

"You might have sat for it," said Meg, looking from Sir Alurde to Dan.

"I am glad to hear you say so. I assure you I had no idea I was so good-looking."

"Oh, indeed, you are very good-looking, Dan."

The man of the world blushed at the praise of this rustic maiden, and held up a protesting hand. He was standing by a window, and the light striking on his face emphasised his resemblance to Sir Alurde in a startling manner.

"You will make me vain if you talk so," he said, smiling. "I see you admire Sir Alurde."

"I do; I am quite in love with him."

Before Dan could make capital out of this remark by introducing himself, he was startled by a long-drawn sigh which sounded close at hand.

"Is that you, Meg?"

"No; what do you mean?"

"Did you sigh?"

"Of course not. Why should I sigh?"

"Then it must have been one of those ghosts we were talking about. I certainly heard some one sighing."

Meg knew well enough that Miss Linisfarne was close at hand, and, fearful lest her companion should make some allusion to her, hastily beckoned him away.

"Come up here, Dan. I wish to show you a very pretty lady."

"Yourself?" said he, laughing; whereat she frowned and stamped her foot.

"Why will you talk so! It is a Lady Ardleigh of the Restoration. She is----"

"A doll," said Dan, contemptuously, looking at the simpering beauty,--"a china doll. Surely you don't think her beautiful! She has no soul."

"What do you mean?"

"Mean? Why, that she has never loved. You can see it in her face."

"I have never loved, Dan, and I don't think myself a china doll, I assure you."

"Oh, but you are a----"

The words died away on Dan's lips, as a tall figure advanced slowly down the gallery. It was a woman who had once been very beautiful, but who was now a wreck of her former self. She looked steadily at Dan, and then glanced at Meg.

"Miss Linisfarne!" said the girl, transfixed with astonishment.