“Gads!” I laughed, “it was discourteously spoken. I should have said, now I come to reflect more closely on it, a reverent gentleman, indeed, white-bearded and sage, with keen eyes shining severe, the portals of a well-filled mind. A carriage that bespoke good breeding and gentle blood; raiment that disdained the pomp of silly, fickle fashion, and a general air of learning and of mildness.”
“My father, Sir, to the very letter, Master Adam Faulkener, the wisest man, they say, this side of the Trent, and greatly (I know he would have me add) at your service.”
“And you?”
“I am Mistress Elizabeth Faulkener, daughter to that same; and if, indeed, you know my father, then, as my father’s friend, I tender you my humble and respectful duty,” and the young lady half mockingly, and half out of gay spirit, picked up her flowered muslin skirt, by two dainty fingers, on either side and made me a long, sweeping curtesy.
A pretty flower indeed, for such a rugged stem!
“But this is only half the matter, fair girl,” I went on, when my responding bow had been duly made. “If that venerable gentleman indeed be thy father, and this his house and thine, it is more strange than ever. I came here two evenings since by his explicit invitation, but since that time I have not set eyes upon him. High and low have I hunted, I have pricked arras and rapped on hollow panels, trodden yon ghostly corridors at every hour of the day and night, yet for all that time no sight or sound of host or hostess could I get. Now, out of thy generous nature and the civility due to a wondering guest, tell me how was this.”
“Why, Sir! Do you mean to say since two nights past you have been lodged back there?”
“Ah! three days, in yon grim, moldy mansion.”
“What! there, in that melancholy front of the many windows—and all alone?”
“The very simple, native truth!—alone in yonder tenement of faint, sad odors and mournful, sighing draughts, alone save for a mind stocked with somewhat melancholy fancies—mislaid by him, it seemed, who brought me thither—dull, solitary, and damp—why, damsel!”