We looked at the bed with a sensation of awe. A king had really slept in it, and the Martyr King at that.
"No one has ever slept in it since!" repeated Mrs. Deborah. "No one ever shall in my day, unless another rightful king comes to occupy it, which may Heaven grant!" said she solemnly.
"Do you think King George is like to come this way, Aunt Deborah?" asked Amabel, innocently. "They say he is not very fond of traveling in England."
The thunder-cloud was on Mrs. Deborah's brow in an instant.
"I spoke of the rightful King, Niece Leighton, not of the usurper who at present occupies a throne to which he has no more right than I have. King George indeed! That I should live to hear the Elector of Hanover called King by a niece of mine, and in this sacred chamber!"
"I beg your pardon, aunt!" said Amabel, meekly and greatly astonished by the storm she had unwittingly raised. "I assure you I meant no offence."
"No, I dare say not! I forgot you had been living among the whigs of Newcastle, who would sell their elector as soon as their king, if they could make any thing by it. But you must learn better now. I shall make it my business to teach you. See, here is the Bible his Majesty used, and the chair where he sat. But we must not stay too long here; these shut up rooms are damp. Niece Leighton, if you ever come to be mistress of this house, as I hope you may, you must dust this room with your own hands, four times a year, and mind you lay everything down in just the place you took it up. Will you promise me this?"
"Indeed I will, aunt!" answered Amabel, sincerely desirous to atone for the offence she had given.
"Where do these doors lead to?" she added, as we passed the locked doors on our way back to the other part of the house.
"Those are the shut up rooms. They are never used or opened!" answered Mrs. Deborah abruptly. "Come, we will see the other wing."