"Oh yes, it is," said Ellen; "I have been trying to think about all that. I like to look at old things very much."
"Perhaps you would like to see the regalia."
"The what, Sir?"
"The royal things, the old diadem and sceptre, &c. of the
Scottish kings. Well, come," said he, as he read the answer in
Ellen's face, "we will go; but first let us see the old
chapel."
With this Ellen was wonderfully pleased. This was much older still than Queen Mary's rooms. Ellen admired the wild melancholy look of the Gothic pillars and arches springing from the green turf, the large carved window, empty of glass, the broken walls; and, looking up to the blue sky, she tried to imagine the time when the Gothic roof closed overhead, and music sounded through the arches, and trains of stolid monks paced through them, where now the very pavement was not. Strange it seemed, and hard, to go back and realize it; but in the midst of this, the familiar face of the sky set Ellen's thoughts off upon a new track, and suddenly they were at home, on the lawn before the parsonage. The monks and the abbey were forgotten; she silently gave her hand to her uncle, and walked with him to the carriage.
Arrived at the Crown-room, Ellen fell into another fit of grave attention; but Mr. Lindsay, taught better, did not this time mistake rapt interest for absence of mind. He answered questions, and gave her several pieces of information, and let her take her own time to gaze and meditate.
"This beautiful sword," said he, "was a present from Pope
Julius Second to James the Fourth."
"I don't know anything about the popes," said Ellen. "James the Fourth! I forget what kind of king he was."
"He was a very good king; he was the one that died at
Flodden."
"Oh, and wore an iron girdle, because he had fought against his father, poor man!"