tremendous size; Sir Josseline stood miraculously tall, and the Jew,
crouching, supplicating, sprawling, was the most distorted squalid figure,
eyes ever beheld, or imagination could conceive.

After having once beheld it, I could never bear to look upon it again, nor
did I ever afterwards enter the tapestry chamber:--but there were some
other of the antique rooms in which I delighted, and divers pieces of old
furniture which I reverenced. There was an ancient bed, with scolloped
tester, and tarnished quilt, in which Queen Elizabeth had slept; and a huge
embroidered pincushion done by no hands, as you may guess, but those of the
unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, who, during her captivity, certainly
worked harder than ever queen worked before or since.

Then there was an old, worm-eaten chair, in which John of Gaunt had sat;
and I remember that while Lady de Brantefield expressed her just
indignation against the worms, for having dared to attack this precious
relique, I, kneeling to the chair, admired the curious fretwork, the dusty
honeycombs, which these invisible little workmen had excavated. But John of
Gaunt's chair was nothing to King John's table. There was a little black
oak table, too, with broken legs, which was invaluable--for, as Lady de
Brantefield confidently affirmed, King John of France, and the Black
Prince, had sat and supped at it. I marvelled much in silence--for I had
been sharply reproved for some observation I had unwittingly made on the
littleness and crookedness of a dark, corner-chimneyed nook shown us for
the banqueting-room; and I had fallen into complete disgrace for having
called the winding staircases, leading to the turret-chambers, _back
stairs._

Of Lady de Brantefield, the _touch-me-not_ mistress of the mansion, I had
retained a sublime, but not a beautiful idea--I now felt a desire to see