He led the way, as he spoke, out again into the hall, and crossing over to the other end began to mount a broad oak staircase.
It was dark with age, and the candle sufficed to show that in places bits of carving had dropped or been broken from the high wainscot and massive balustrade; doors were let into the wainscoting, and two of them stood open, but they only disclosed dark distances that seemed to tell of long passages or descending flights of steps.
Murtagh was quite silent at first, preceding Adrienne by a few steps, but when they reached the corridor above he fell back so as to walk beside her.
She said something about the house being very large.
"Yes, and it seems lonely to you now; doesn't it?" he said, in a tone different from any he had used before. "I did feel so dreary at first when we came from India. But you must cheer up, you know; you won't think us so bad, I expect, when you get accustomed to us, and it's a dear old place. There's a beautiful river full of rocks, and real wild mountains with heather on them."
"I'm sure I shall like everything," she replied warmly.
"Well, you know," said Murtagh, thoughtfully, "we're awfully rampageous and everything. That's why people don't like us. You see we can't help it exactly, we're always that way." There was a half-sad undertone in the boy's voice, and his companion turned her sweet eyes kindly upon him as she answered, "You've been very kind to me."
He looked gratified, but he put an end to the conversation by throwing open a door and exclaiming, "This is your room."
It was a large, comfortable room with old-fashioned, faded furniture, and a great four-post bed; the big fire that blazed cheerily at one end filling it all with warm light and dancing shadows.
"Have you water, and all that kind of thing?" he inquired with a look round the room.