Diccon. Mayhap Sir Gilbert doth know. But none else may find it. Many's the time the lads ha' looked for it—many's the time. [Exit.]
[Rafe goes about for a moment, lifting hangings,
etc., as if in search for door, but returns
to Gillian's side to hear her answer to Cicely.
Cicely. But, Gillian, what was it thy grandam told about the portraits?
Gillian. Oh, verily, my sweet. Thinking about the secret door I had well-nigh forgot. My grandam said that if all the house was still and sleeping, just on the stroke of twelve every Christmas Eve, Sir Philip and my Lady Geraldine do move and breathe, step forth from their picture frames, clasp hands, and move together in an ancient dance!
Rafe. Do they?
Cicely and Allison. Oh-h-h! [Drawing near to Gillian with a little delighted shiver.]
Lady K. [without]. Gillian, Gillian! Come hither, wench; I need thee.
Gillian [rising]. Anon, my lady! [To children.] Think of it, bairns—that fine brave gentleman and that beautiful lady, stepping across the floors in the moonlight—— [Exit, hand lifted as if holding a partner's, taking stately dancing steps.]
Cicely. Oh, Rafe, think'st that Gillian speaketh true?
Rafe. Yes, I do believe her. Christmas is such a marvelous fair time, Cicely, that I do think anything wonderful might happen.