s not unwillingly into a chair to wait for the vicar, who
is engaged with a district visitor, or lay sister.

This part of the house is ancient, and dates from medieval times. Some
have conjectured that the present library and the adjoining rooms (the
partitions being modern) originally formed the refectory of a monastic
establishment. Others assign it to another use; but all agree that it is
monastic and antique. The black oak rafters of the roof, polished as it
were by age, meet overhead unconcealed by ceiling. Upon the wall in one
place a figure seems at the first glance to be in the act to glide forth
like a spectre from the solid stone. The effect is caused by the subdued
colouring, which is shadowy and indistinct. It was perhaps gaudy when
first painted; but when a painting has been hidden by a coat or two of
plaster, afterwards as carefully removed as it was carelessly laid on, the
tints lose their brilliancy. Some sainted woman in a flowing robe, with
upraised arm, stands ever in the act to bless. Only half one of the
windows of the original hall is in this apartment--the partition wall
divides it. There yet remain a few stained panes in the upper part; few as
they are and small, yet the coloured light that enters through them seems
to tone the room.

The furniture, of oak, is plain and spare to the verge of a gaunt
severity, and there is not one single picture-frame on the wide expanse of
wall. On the table are a few books and some letters, with foreign
postmarks, and addressed in the crabbed handwriting of Continental
scholars. Over the table a brazen lamp hangs suspended by a slender chain.
In a corner are some fragments of stone mouldings and wood carvings like
the panel of an ancient pew. There are no shelves and no bookcase. Besides
those on the table, one volume lies on the floor, which is without carpet
or covering, but absolutely clean: and by the wall, not far from the
fireplace, is an open chest, ancient and ponderous, in which are the works
of the Fathers. The grate has been removed from the fireplace and the
hearth restored; for in that outlying district there is plenty of wood.
Though of modern make, the heavy brass fire-irons are of ancient shape.
The fire has gone out--the logs are white with the ash that forms upon
decaying embers; it is clear that the owner of this bare apartment, called
a library, but really a study, is not one who thinks of his own personal
comfort. If examined closely the fl