she asked herself whether it could have been real. But a little
reasoning convinced her that it must have been an hallucination.

"If you please, madam," said one of her staff of domestics, a native
of Wiltstoken, who stood in deep awe of the lady of the castle,
"Miss Goff is waiting for you in the drawing-room."

The drawing-room of the castle was a circular apartment, with a
dome-shaped ceiling broken into gilt ornaments resembling thick
bamboos, which projected vertically downward like stalagmites. The
heavy chandeliers were loaded with flattened brass balls, magnified
fac-similes of which crowned the uprights of the low, broad,
massively-framed chairs, which were covered in leather stamped with
Japanese dragon designs in copper-colored metal. Near the fireplace
was a great bronze bell of Chinese shape, mounted like a mortar on a
black wooden carriage for use as a coal-scuttle. The wall was
decorated with large gold crescents on a ground of light blue.

In this barbaric rotunda Miss Carew found awaiting her a young lady
of twenty-three, with a well-developed, resilient figure, and a
clear complexion, porcelain surfaced, and with a fine red in the
cheeks. The lofty pose of her head expressed an habitual sense of
her own consequence given her by the admiration of the youth of the
neighborhood, which was also, perhaps, the cause of the neatness of
her inexpensive black dress, and of her irreproachable gloves,
boots, and hat. She had been waiting to introduce herself to the
lady of the castle for ten minutes in a state of nervousness that
culminated as Lydia entered.

"How do you do, Miss Goff, Have I kept you waiting? I was out."