Their
own footsteps, reverberating through the spacious room, struck upon
their hearing with a hollow sound; and its damp and chilly atmosphere
was rendered doubly cheerless by contrast with the homely warmth they
had deserted.
It was of no use, however, to propose a return to the place they had
quitted, for the preparations went on so briskly that there was no time
to stop them. John, with the tall candlesticks in his hands, bowed them
up to the fireplace; Hugh, striding in with a lighted brand and pile
of firewood, cast it down upon the hearth, and set it in a blaze; John
Grueby (who had a great blue cockade in his hat, which he appeared
to despise mightily) brought in the portmanteau he had carried on his
horse, and placed it on the floor; and presently all three were busily
engaged in drawing out the screen, laying the cloth, inspecting the
beds, lighting fires in the bedrooms, expediting the supper, and making
everything as cosy and as snug as might be, on so short a notice. In
less than an hour's time, supper had been served, and ate, and cleared
away; and Lord George and his secretary, with slippered feet, and legs
stretched out before the fire, sat over some hot mulled wine together.
Pages:
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475