A Laodicean : A Story of To-day
event sufficient to set some little mark upon her day. Deception had been written on the faces of those frowning walls in their implying the insignificance of Somerset, when he found them tenanted only by this little woman whose life was narrower than his own.     

       ‘We have not been here long,’ continued Miss De Stancy, ‘and that’s why everything is in such a dilapidated and confused condition.’      

       Somerset entered the dark store-closet, thinking less of the ancient pillar revealed by the light of the candle than what a singular remark the       latter was to come from a member of the family which appeared to have been there five centuries. He held the candle above his head, and walked round, and presently Miss De Stancy came back.     

       ‘There is another vault below,’ she said, with the severe face of a young woman who speaks only because it is absolutely necessary. ‘Perhaps you are not aware of it? It was the dungeon: if you wish to go down there too, the servant will show you the way. It is not at all ornamental: rough, unhewn arches and clumsy piers.’      

       Somerset thanked her, and would perhaps take advantage of her kind offer when he had examined the spot where he was, if it were not causing inconvenience.     

       ‘No; I am sure Paula will be glad to know that anybody thinks it interesting to go down there—which is more than she does herself.’      

       Some obvious inquiries were suggested by this, but Somerset said, ‘I have seen the pictures, and have been much struck by them; partly,’ he added, with some hesitation, ‘because one or two of them reminded me of a schoolfellow—I think his name was John Ravensbury?’      

       ‘Yes,’ she said, almost eagerly. ‘He was my cousin!’      

       ‘So that we are not quite strangers?’      

       ‘But he is dead now.... He was unfortunate: he was mostly spoken of as       “that unlucky boy.”... You know, I suppose, Mr. Somerset, why the paintings are in such a decaying state!—it is owing to the peculiar treatment of the castle during Mr. Wilkins’s time. He was blind; so one can imagine he did not appreciate such things as there are here.’      

       ‘The castle has been shut up, you mean?’      


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