d there about the
large enclosed spaces there stood solitary oaks, in which the old Earl
took pride; but at Scroope Manor there was none of that finished
landscape beauty of which the owners of "places" in England are so
justly proud.

The house was large, and the rooms were grand and spacious. There was an
enormous hall into one corner of which the front door opened. There was
a vast library filled with old books which no one ever touched,--huge
volumes of antiquated and now all but useless theology, and folio
editions of the least known classics,--such as men now never read. Not a
book had been added to it since the commencement of the century, and it
may almost be said that no book had been drawn from its shelves for real
use during the same period. There was a suite of rooms,--a salon with
two withdrawing rooms which now were never opened. The big dining-room
was used occasionally, as, in accordance with the traditions of the
family, dinner was served there whenever there were guests at the Manor.
Guests, indeed, at Scroope Manor were not very frequent;--but Lady
Scroope did occasionally have a friend or two to stay with her; and
at long intervals the country clergymen and neighbouring squires were
asked, with their wives, to dinner. When the Earl and his Countess were
alone they used a small breakfast parlour, and between this and the big
dining-room there was the little chamber in which the Countess usually
lived. The Earl's own room was at the back, or if the reader pleases,
front of the house, near the door leading into the street, and was, of
all rooms in the house, the gloomiest.

The atmosphere of the whole place was gloomy. There were none of those
charms of modern creation which now make the mansions of the wealthy
among us bright and joyous. There was not a billiard table in the
house. There was no conservatory nearer than the large old-fashioned
greenhouse, which stood away by the kitchen garden and which seemed to
belong exclusively to the gardener. The papers on the walls were dark
and sombre. The mirrors were small and lustreless. The carpets were old
and dingy. The windows did not open on to the terrace. The furniture was
hardly ancient, but yet antiquated and uncomfortable. Throughout the
house, and indeed throughout the estate, there was sufficient evidence
of wealth; and there certainly was no evidence of parsimony; but at
Scroope Manor money seemed never to have produced luxury. The household
wa