A hale, good-humoured, erect, old woman was Martha, and an agreeable
contrast to the grim, decrepit hag, which my fancy had conjured up, as
the depository of all the horrible tales in which I doubted not this
old place was most fruitful. She welcomed me and her master with
a profusion of gratulations, alternately kissing our hands and
apologising for the liberty, until at length Lord Glenfallen put
an end to this somewhat fatiguing ceremonial, by requesting her to
conduct me to my chamber if it were prepared for my reception. I
followed Martha up an old-fashioned, oak stair-case into a long, dim
passage at the end of which lay the door which communicated with the
apartments which had been selected for our use; here the old woman
stopped, and respectfully requested me to proceed. I accordingly
opened the door and was about to enter, when something like a mass of
black tapestry as it appeared disturbed by my sudden approach, fell
from above the door, so as completely to screen the aperture; the
startling unexpectedness of the occurrence, and the rustling noise
which the drapery made in its descent, caused me involuntarily to step
two or three paces backwards, I turned, smiling and half ashamed to
the old servant, and said, "You see what a coward I am." The woman
looked puzzled, and without saying any more, I was about to draw aside
the curtain and enter the room, when upon turning to do so, I was
surprised to find that nothing whatever interposed to obstruct the
passage. I went into the room, followed by the servant woman, and was
amazed to find that it, like the one below, was wainscoted, and that
nothing like drapery was to be found near the door.

"Where is it," said I; "what has become of it?"

"What does your ladyship wish to know?" said the old woman.