ljambe. When they
were dressed, Perrote repeated the Rosary, Amphillis making the
responses, and they went down to the hall.

Breakfast was at this time a luxury not indulged in by every one, and it
was not served before seven o'clock. Lady Foljambe patronised it. At
that hour it was accordingly spread in the hall, and consisted of
powdered beef, boiled beef, brawn, a jug of ale, another of wine, and a
third of milk. The milk was a condescension to a personal weakness of
Perrote; everybody else drank wine or ale.

Amphillis was wondering very much, in the private recesses of her mind,
how it was that no lady appeared whom she could suppose to be her own
particular mistress; and had she not received such strict charges on the
subject, she would certainly have asked the question. As it was, she
kept silence; but she was gratified when, after breakfast, having been
bidden to follow Perrote, that worthy woman paused to say, as they
followed the passage which led to their own turret--

"Now, Amphillis Neville, you shall see your Lady."

She stopped before the locked and barred door opposite to their own,
unfastened it, and led Amphillis into the carefully-guarded chamber.

The barred room proved to be an exceedingly pleasant one, except that it
was darker than the other, for it looked into the inner garden, and
therefore much less sun ever entered it. A heavy curtain of black
worsted, whereon were depicted golden vines and recumbent lions,
stretched across the room, shutting off that end which formed the
bedchamber. Within its shelter stood a bed of green silk wrought with
golden serpents and roses; a small walnut-wood cabinet against the wall;
two large chests; a chair of carved walnut-wood, upholstered in yellow
satin; a mirror set in silver; and two very unusual pieces of furniture,
which in those days they termed folding-chairs, but which we should call
a shut-up washstand and dressing-table. The former held an ewer and
basin of silver-gilt, much grander articles than Amphillis had ever
seen, except in the goldsmith's shop. In front of the curtain was a
bench with green silk cushions, and two small tables, on one of which
lay some needlework; and by it, in another yellow satin chair, sat the
solitary inhabitant of the chamber, a lady who appeared to be about
sixty years of age. She was dressed in widow's mourning, and in 1372
that meant pure snowy white, with chin and forehead so covered by barb
and wimple