Drusilla could not speak or move. She stood transfixed and motionless as any one of those grim effigies before them. She stood thus until General Lyon kindly broke the spell that bound her, by lightly laying his hand upon her shoulder and whispering:
“My dear, recollect yourself!”
She started, and recovered her self-possession at once, and in time to see little Lenny, whom Dick led by the hand, pulling at his protector, and pointing down the hall, and shouting:
“Man, man! div Lenny that hoo!” putting up his lips and describing in pantomime the whistle whose name he had forgotten.
“Little Lenny knew him again!” murmured Drusilla to herself.
All this did not quite escape the notice of the guide. He saw what passed, but apparently without understanding it; for, turning to General Lyon, he said:
“Lord Killcrichtoun, sir! His face is as well known here as any of these images. He is in almost every day.”
Then, reverting to his own especial business, and pointing out another effigy, he said:
“Henry the Eighth, ladies and gentlemen. Pray observe this magnificent suit of armor, damaskeened or inlaid with pure gold. It is said to be the same he wore on that famous occasion of his meeting with Francis I. on the field of the Cloth of Gold.”
“Oh, the horrid monster! I would rather look upon Lucifer’s self than Henry the Eighth’s effigy! Let us pass on,” said Anna impatiently.