Amadis himself had taken care of that. For on every panel he had
carved with his own hand a verse, a prayer, or an aphorism, so
that the walls were a kind of open notebook inscribed with his own
personal memoranda. Over the wide chimney his coat-of-arms was
painted, the colours having faded into tender hues like those of
autumn leaves, and the motto underneath was "Mon coeur me
soutien." Then followed the inscription:

"Amadis de Jocelin,
Knight of France,
Who here seekynge Forgetfulness did here fynde Peace."

Every night of her life since she could read Innocent had stood in
front of these armorial bearings in her little white night-gown
and had conned over these words. She had taken the memory and
tradition of Amadis to her heart and soul. He was HER ancestor,--
hers, she had always said;--she had almost learned her letters
from the inscriptions he had carved, and through these she could
read old English and a considerable amount of old French besides.
When she was about twelve years old she and Robin Clifford,
playing about together in this room, happened to knock against one
panel that gave forth a hollow reverberant sound, and moved by
curiosity they tried whether they could open it. After some
abortive efforts Robin's fingers closed by chance on a hidden
spring, which being thus pressed caused the panel to fly open,
disclosing a narrow secret stair. Full of burning excitement the
two children ran up it, and to their delight found themselves in a
small square musty chamber in which were two enormous old dower-
chests, locked. Their locks were no bar to the agility of Robin,
who, fetching a hammer, forced the old hasps asunder and threw