Tom jumped down and pushed back the rusty iron gates, and they drove into an unlighted, melancholy court-yard; and Tom thundered at a tall narrow hall-door, between chipped and worn pilasters of the same white stone, surmounted by some carved heraldry, half effaced.
Standing on the summit of the steps he had to repeat his summons, till the cavernous old mansion pealed again with the echo, before a light gave token of the approach of a living being to give them greeting.
Tom opened the carriage door, and let down the steps, perhaps a little clumsily, but he was getting through his duties wonderfully.
The party entered the spacious wainscoted hall, in which was an old wooden bench, on which, gladly, it seemed, the sick lady sat herself down. A great carved doorway opened upon a square second hall or lobby, through which the ray of the single candle glanced duskily, and touched the massive banisters of a broad staircase.
This must have been the house of a very great man in its day, a Lord Chancellor, perhaps, one of those Hogarthian mansions in which such men as my Lord Squanderfield might have lived in the first George's days.
"How could any man have been such an idiot," thought Sedley, filled with momentary wonder, "as to build a palace like this in such a place?"
"Dear me! what a place—what a strange place!" whispered the elder lady, "where are we to go?"
"Up-stairs, please'm," said the woman with a brass candlestick in her hand.
"I hope there's fire, and more light, and—and proper comfort there?"
"Oh! yes'm, please; everythink as you would like, please."