CHAPTER XIV

AN ERROR IN JUDGMENT

I had expected that Lucia would have come to greet me, and that some of the other guests would be moving about the halls.  But though the rooms were brightly lit, and servants moving here and there, there abode a hush upon the place strangely out of keeping with my expectation.

In my own room I arrayed me in clothes more fitted to the palace in which I found myself, though, after all was done, their plainness made a poor contrast to the mailed warriors on the pedestals and the scarlet senators in the frames.

There was a rose, fresh as the white briar-blossom in my mother’s garden, upon my table.  I took it as Lucia’s gage, and set it in my coat.

“My lady waits,” said the major-domo at the door.

I went down-stairs, conscious by the hearing of the ear that a heart was beating somewhere loudly, mine or another’s I could not tell.

A door opened.  A rush of warm and gracious air, a benediction of subdued light, and I found myself bending over the hand of the Countess.  I had been talking some time before I came to the knowledge that I was saying anything.

Then we went to dinner through the long lit passages, the walls giving back the merry sound of our voices.  Still, strangely enough, no other guests appeared.  But my wonder was hushed by the gladness on the face of the Countess.  We dined in an alcove, screened from the vast dining-room.  The table was set for three.  As we came in, the Countess murmured a name.  An old lady bowed to me, and moved stiffly to a seat without a word.  Lucia continued her conversation without a pause, and paid no further heed to the ancient dame, who took her meal with a single-eyed absorption upon her plate.

My wonder increased.  Could it be that Lucia and I were alone in this great castle!  I cannot tell whether the thought brought me more happiness or discontent.  Clearly, I was the only guest.  Was I to remain so, or would others join us after dinner?  My heart beat faint and tumultuously.  At random I answered to Lucia’s questionings about my journey.  My slow-moving Northern intelligence began to form questions which I must ask.  Through the laughing charm of my lady’s face and the burning radiance of her eyes, there grew into plainness against the tapestry the sad, pale face of my mother and her clear, consistent eyes.  I talked—­I answered—­I listened—­all through a humming chaos.  For the teaching of the moorland farm, the ethic of the Sabbath nights lit by a single candle and sanctified by the chanted psalm and the open Book, possessed me.  It was the domination of the Puritan base, and most bitterly I resented, while I could not prevent, its hold upon me.

Dinner was over.  We took our way into a drawing-room, divided into two parts by a screen which was drawn half-way.  In the other half of the great room stood an ancient piano, and to this our ancient lady betook herself.