ever see any thing so
charming?"

Marjory glanced at her sister, and they exchanged smiles.

"Well, I cannot quite say No to that question, Magot. [Note 5.] But
lead me round this wonderful chamber, and show me all its beauties."

The wonderful chamber in question was not very spacious, being about
sixteen feet in length by twelve in width. It had a wide fireplace at
one end--there was no fire, for the spring was just passing into
summer--and two arched windows on one of its longer sides. The
fireplace was filled with a grotto-like erection of fir-cones, moss, and
rosemary: the windows, as Margaret triumphantly pointed out, were of
that rare and precious material, glass. Three doors led into other
rooms. One, opposite the fireplace, gave access to a small private
oratory; two others, opposite the windows, communicated respectively
with the wardrobe and the ante-chamber. These four rooms together, with
the narrow spiral staircase which led to them, occupied the whole floor
of one of the square towers of the Castle. The walls of the bower were
painted green, relieved by golden stars; and on every wall-space between
the doors and windows was a painted "history"--namely, a medallion of
some Biblical, historical, or legendary subject. The subjects in this
room had evidently been chosen with reference to the tastes of a girl.
They were,--the Virgin and Child; the legend of Saint Margaret; the
Wheel of Fortune; Saint Agnes, with her lamb; a fountain with doves
perched upon the edge; and Saint Martin dividing his cloak with the
beggar. The window-shutters were of fir-wood, bound with iron. Meagre
indeed we should think the furniture, but it was sumptuous for the date.
A tent-bed, hung with green curtains, stood between the two doors. A
green velvet settle stretched across the window side of the room. By
the fireplace was a leaf-table; round the walls were wooden brackets,
with iron sockets for the reception of torches; and at the foot of the
bed, which stood with its side to the wall, was a fine chest of carved
ebony. There were only three pieces of movable furniture, two
footstools, and a curule chair, also of ebony, with a green velvet
cushion. As nobody could sit in the last who had not had a king and
queen for his or her parents, it may be supposed that more than one was
not likely to be often wanted.

The Countess of Kent, as the elder sister, took the curule chair, while
her sister Marjory, when the ins