spiders' webs that no housemaid's mop ever invaded. Above the grand old
chimney-piece was a noble stag's head, with huge, spreading antlers, and
on the walls hung rows of ancient family portraits, so faded and mouldy
now that most of the faces had a ghastly hue, and at night, by the dim,
flickering lamp-light, they looked like a company of spectres. Nothing
in the world is sadder than a collection of old portraits hanging
thus, neglected and forgotten, in deserted halls--representations, half
obliterated themselves, of forms and faces long since returned to dust.
Yet these painted phantoms were most appropriate inhabitants of this
desolate abode; real living people would have seemed out of place in the
death-stricken house.

In the middle of the room stood an immense dining-table of dark,
polished wood, much worm-eaten, and gradually falling into decay. Two
tall buffets, elaborately carved and ornamented, stood on opposite sides
of the room, with only a few odd pieces of Palissy ware, representing
lizards, crabs, and shell-fish, reposing on shiny green leaves, and two
or three delicate wine-glasses of quaint patterns remaining upon the
shelves where gold and silver plate used to glitter in rich profusion,
as was the mode in France. The handsome old chairs, with their high,
carved backs and faded velvet cushions, that had been so firm and
luxurious once, were tottering and insecure; but it mattered little,
since no one ever came to sit in them now round the festive board, and
they stood against the wall in prim order, under the rows of family
portraits.

A smaller room opened out of this one, hung round with faded, moth-eaten
tapestry. In one corner stood a large bed, with four tall, twisted
columns and long, ample curtains of rich brocade, which had been
delicate green and white, but now were of a dingy, yellowish hue, and