oom, even for so short a time, had already gathered up the damp of many
years, and it lay as a mist, and mingled with the dust upon the panes of
glass: still here and there a glittering of silver vessels could be
discerned, for the glass doors had protected them from turning black,
although much dimmed in lustre.

On the wall facing the window were other prints, in frames equally
veiled in damp and cobwebs and also two bird-cages. The bird-cages
Philip approached, and looked into them. The occupants, of course, had
long been dead; but at the bottom of the cages was a small heap of
yellow feathers, through which the little white bones of the skeletons
were to be seen, proving that they had been brought from the Canary
Isles; and, at that period, such birds were highly valued. Philip
appeared to wish to examine everything before he sought that which he
most dreaded, yet most wished, to find. There were several chairs round
the room: on one of them was some linen; he took it up. It was some
that must have belonged to him when he was yet a child. At last, Philip
turned his eyes to the wall not yet examined (that opposite the chimney
piece), through which the door was pierced, and behind the door as it
lay open, he was to find the table, the couch, the work-box, and the
FATAL LETTER. As he turned round, his pulse, which had gradually
recovered its regular motion, beat more quickly, but he made the effort,
and it was over. At first he examined the walls, against which were
hung swords and pistols of various sorts but chiefly Asiatic bows and
arrows, and other implements of destruction. Philip's eyes gradually
descended upon the table and little couch behind it, where his mother
stated herself to have been seated when his father made his awful visit.
The work-box and all its implements were on the table, just as she had
left them. The keys she mentioned were also lying there, but Philip
looked, and looked again; there was no letter, he now advanced nearer,
examined closely--there was none that he could perceive, either on the
couch or on the table--or on the floor. He lifted up the work-box to
ascertain if it was beneath--but no. He examined among its contents,
but no letter was there. He turned over the pillows of the couch, but
still there was no letter to be found. And Philip felt as if there had
been a heavy load removed from his panting chest. "Surely, then,"
thought he, as he leant against the wall, "this m