How impossible
it was to extract anything beyond that from her we soon had proof.
She ushered us next into my lord's parlor, which nearly adjoined the
gallery. This room was hung with arras, retained a few articles of
ancient furniture, had one or two pictures hanging on its walls, and
presented, altogether, a more habitable look than any other portion of
the castle. Our little maid had got on well with her description of this
room, had pointed out the portrait of Prince Arthur, once a resident at
the hall, had introduced that of Will Somers, my lord's jester, as
glibly as if Will were a playmate of her own, had deciphered for us the
excellent moral precept carved in old English beneath the royal arms,
"Drede God and honour the King," and was proceeding rapidly with an
array of measurements and dates, when I unluckily interrupted her,--I
think it was to ask some question about the tapestry. She looked at me
reproachfully, indignantly,--just as a child reciting the
multiplication-table before the School-Committee would look, if tripped
up between the numbers, or as a boy, taken advantage of in play, might
cry, "No fair!" She did not condescend to answer me, perhaps she could
not, but paused a moment, reflected, went deliberately back in her
recital, repeated the last few dates and phrases by way of gaining an
impetus, and then went on without faltering to the end of her prescribed
narration.
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