Here a silence of several minutes ensued; when, suddenly, they were awakened from their reverie by a violent noise in the rooms underneath them. It seemed like the clashing of arms, and something seemed to fall down with violence.
They started, and Edmund rose up with a look full of resolution and intrepidity.
“I am called!” said he; “I obey the call!”
He took up a lamp, and went to the door that he had opened the night before. Oswald followed with his rosary in his hand, and Joseph last with trembling steps. The door opened with ease, and they descended the stairs in profound silence.
The lower rooms answered exactly to those above; there were two parlours and a large closet. They saw nothing remarkable in these rooms, except two pictures, that were turned with their faces to the wall. Joseph took the courage to turn them. “These,” said he, “are the portraits of my lord and lady. Father, look at this face; do you know who is like it?”
“I should think,” said Oswald, “it was done for Edmund!”
“I am,” said Edmund, “struck with the resemblance myself; but let us go on; I feel myself inspired with unusual courage. Let us open the closet door.”
Oswald stopped him short.
“Take heed,” said he, “lest the wind of the door put out the lamp. I will open this door.”
He attempted it without success; Joseph did the same, but to no purpose; Edmund gave the lamp to Joseph; he approached the door, tried the key, and it gave way to his hand in a moment.