It was a thought that matched the picture he had drawn of the deserted house, and Mary felt that the morning had lost its brightness. But not for long. Basset led her into a room on the right of the hall, and the sight drew from her a cry of pleasure. On three sides the dark wainscot rose eight feet from the floor; above, the walls were whitewashed to the ceiling and broken by dim portraits, on stretchers and without frames. On the fourth side where the panelling divided the room from a serving-room, once part of it, it rose to the ceiling. The stone hearth, the iron dogs, the matted floor, the heavy chairs and oak table, all were dark and plain and increased the austerity of the room.
At the end of the table places were laid for three, and Toft, who had set on the breakfast, was fixing the kettle amid the burning logs.
“Is Mr. Audley coming down?” Basset asked.
“He bade me lay for him,” Toft replied dryly. “I doubt if he will come. You had better begin, sir. The young lady,” with a searching look at her, “must want her breakfast.”
“I am afraid I do,” Mary confessed.
“Yes, we will begin,” Basset said. He invited her to make the tea.
When they were seated, “You like the room?”
“I love it,” she answered.
“So do I,” he rejoined, more soberly. “The panelling is linen—pattern of the fifteenth century—you see the folds? It was saved from the old house. I am glad you like it.”
“I love it,” she said again. But after that she grew thoughtful, and during the rest of the meal she said little. She was thinking of what was before her; of the unknown uncle, whose bread she was eating, and upon whom she was going to be dependent. What would he be like? How would he receive her? And why was every one so reticent about him—so reticent that he was beginning to be something of an ogre to her? When Toft presently appeared and said that Mr. Audley was in the library and would see her when she was ready, she lost color. But she answered the man with self-possession, asked quietly where the library was, and had not Basset’s eyes been on her face he would have had no notion that she was troubled.