nd trepidation she entered the darkened room, where the
careful aunts had drawn the thick green shades. The furniture stood about
in shadowed corners, and every footfall seemed a fearsome thing.

Marcia's bright eyes hurried furtively about, noting the great glass knobs
that held the lace curtains with heavy silk cords, the round mahogany
table, with its china vase of "everlastings," the high, stiff-backed
chairs all decked in elaborate antimacassars of intricate pattern. Then,
in the furthest corner, shrouded in dark coverings she found what she was
searching for. With a cry she sprang to it, touched its polished wood with
gentle fingers, and lovingly felt for the keyboard. It was closed. Marcia
pushed up the shade to see better, and opened the instrument cautiously.

It was a pianoforte of the latest pattern, and with exclamations of
delight she sat down and began to strike chords, softly at first, as if
half afraid, then more boldly. The tone was sweeter than the old spinet,
or the harpsichord owned by Squire Hartrandt. Marcia marvelled at the
volume of sound. It filled the room and seemed to echo through the empty
halls.

She played soft little airs from memory, and her soul was filled with joy.
Now she knew she would never be lonely in the new life, for she would
always have this wonderful instrument to flee to when she felt homesick.

Across the hall were two square rooms, the front one furnished as a
library. Here were rows of books behind glass doors. Marcia looked at them
with awe. Might she read them all? She resolved to cultivate her mind that
she might be a fit companion for David. She knew he was wise beyond his
years for she had heard her father say so. She went nearer and scanned the
titles, and at once there looked out to her from the rows of bindings a
few familiar faces of books she had read and re-read. "Thaddeus of
Warsaw," "The Scottish Chiefs," "Mysteries of Udolpho," "Romance of the
Forest," "Baker's Livy," "Rollin's History," "Pilgrim's Progress," and a
whole row of Sir Walter Scott's novels. She caught her breath with
delight. What pleasure was opening before her! All of Scott! And she had
read but one!

It was with difficulty she tore herself away from the tempting shelves and
went on to the rest of the house.

Back of David's library was a sunny sitting room, or breakfast room,--or
"dining room" as it would be called at the present time. In Marcia's time
the family ate most of their meals