But Sister Agnes would not consent to that, and they entered the room together.  Instead of seven years, it seemed to Janet only seven hours since she had been there last, so vividly was the recollection of her first visit still impressed upon her mind.  Everything was unchanged in that chamber of the dead, except, perhaps, the sprawling cupids on the ceiling, which looked a shade dingier than of old, and more in need of soap and water than ever.  But the black draperies on the walls, the huge candles in the silver tripods, the pall-covered coffin in the middle of the room, were all as Janet had seen them last.  There, too, was the oaken prie-dieu a yard or two away from the head of the coffin.  Sister Agnes knelt on it for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer.

“My visit to this room every midnight,” said Sister Agnes, “is made for the simple purpose of renewing the candles, and of seeing that everything is as it should be.  That the visit should be made at midnight, and at no other time, is one of Lady Chillington’s whims—­a whim that by process of time has crystallised into a law.  The room is never entered by day.”

“Was it whim or madness that caused Sir John Chillington to leave orders that his body should be kept above ground for twenty years?”

“Who shall tell by what motive he was influenced when he had that particular clause inserted in his will?  Deepley Walls itself hangs on the proper fulfilment of the clause.  If Lady Chillington were to cause her husband’s remains to be interred in the family vault before the expiry of the twenty years, the very day she did so the estate would pass from her to the present baronet, a distant cousin, between whom and her ladyship there has been a bitter feud of many years’ standing.  Although Deepley Walls has been in the family for a hundred and fifty years, it has never been entailed.  The entailed estate is in Yorkshire, and there Sir Mark, the present baronet, resides.  Lady Chillington has the power of bequeathing Deepley Walls to whomsoever she may please, providing she carry out strictly the instructions contained in her husband’s will.  It is possible that in a court of law the will might have been set aside on the ground of insanity, or the whole matter might have been thrown into Chancery.  But Lady Chillington did not choose to submit to such an ordeal.  All the courts of law in the kingdom could have given her no more than she possessed already—­they could merely have given her permission to bury her husband’s body, and it did not seem to her that such a permission could compensate for turning into public gossip a private chapter of family history.  So here Sir John Chillington has remained since his death, and here he will stay till the last of the twenty years has become a thing of the past.  Two or three times every year Mr. Winter, Sir Mark’s lawyer, comes over to Deepley Walls to satisfy himself by ocular proof that Sir John’s instructions are being duly carried out.  This he has a legal right to do in the interests of his client.  Sometimes he is conducted to this room by Lady Chillington, sometimes by me; but even in his case her ladyship will not relax her rule of not having the room visited by day.”