The huge curtained bed and immense easy-chairs, windows, and everything
were draped in some old-fashioned kind of white cloth which always
seemed to be waving and moving about of itself. The carpet was most
singularly colored with dark reds and indescribable grays and browns,
and the pattern, after a whole summer's study, could never be followed
with one's eye. The paper was captured in a French prize somewhere some
time in the last century, and part of the figure was shaggy, and therein
little spiders found habitation, and went visiting their acquaintances
across the shiny places. The color was an unearthly pink and a
forbidding maroon, with dim white spots, which gave it the appearance of
having moulded. It made you low-spirited to look long in the mirror; and
the great lounge one could not have cheerful associations with, after
hearing that Miss Brandon herself did not like it, having seen so many
of her relatives lie there dead. There were fantastic china ornaments
from Bible subjects on the mantel, and the only picture was one of the
Maid of Orleans tied with an unnecessarily strong rope to a very stout
stake. The best parlor we also rarely used, because all the portraits
which hung there had for some unaccountable reason taken a violent
dislike to us, and followed us suspiciously with their eyes. The
furniture was stately and very uncomfortable, and there was something
about the room which suggested an invisible funeral.

There is not very much to say about the dining-room. It was not
specially interesting, though the sea was in sight from one of the
windows. There were some old Dutch pictures on the wall, so dark that
one could scarcely make out what they were meant to represent, and one
or two engravings. There was a huge sideboard, for which Kate had
brought down from Boston Miss Brandon's own silver which had stood there
for so many years, and looked so much more at home and in place than any
other possibly could have looked, and Kate also found in the closet the