told you of
something Mr. Gaskell once said about the music of Graziani's
'Areopagita' suite. It had always, he used to say, a curious effect upon
his imagination, and the melody of the _Gagliarda_ especially called up
to his thoughts in some strange way a picture of a certain hall where
people were dancing. He even went so far as to describe the general
appearance of the room itself, and of the persons who were dancing
there."

"Yes," I answered, "I remember your telling me of this;" and indeed my
memory had in times past so often rehearsed Mr. Gaskell's description
that, although I had not recently thought of it, its chief features
immediately returned to my mind.

"He described it," my brother continued, "as a long hall with an arcade
of arches running down one side, of the fantastic Gothic of the
Renaissance. At the end was a gallery or balcony for the musicians,
which on its front carried a coat of arms."

I remembered this perfectly and told John so, adding that the shield
bore a cherub's head fanning three lilies on a golden field.

"It is strange," John went on, "that the description of a scene which
our friend thought a mere effort of his own imagination has impressed
itself so deeply on both our minds. But the picture which he drew was
more than a fancy, for we are at this minute in the very hall of his
dream."

I could not gather what my brother meant, and thought his reason was
failing him; but he continued, "This miserable floor on which we stand
has of course been afterwards built in; but you see above you the old
ceiling, and here at the end was the musicians' gallery with the shield
upon its front."

He pointed to the carved and whitewashed dado which had hitherto so
puzzled me. I stepped up to it, and although the lath-and-plaster
partition wall was now built around it, it was clear that its curved
outline might very easily, as John said, have formed part of the front
of a coved gallery. I looked closet at the relief-work which had adorned
it. Though the edges were all rubbed off, and the mouldings in some
cases entirely removed, I could trace without difficulty a shield
in the midst; and a more narrow inspection revealed underneath the
whitewash, which had partly peeled away, enough remnants of colour to
show that it had certainly been once painted gold and borne a cherub's
head with three lilies.

"That is the shield of the old Neapolitan house of Doma-Cavalli," my
brother continued; "they