tedly
to a coat-tree, in a corner, from which three or four dresses were
suspended--dresses she immediately perceived to be costumes in that
night's play--accompanied by a saucer of something and a much-worn
powder-puff casually left on a sofa. This was a familiar note in the
general impression of high decorum which had begun at the threshold--a
sense of majesty in the place. Miriam rushed at the powder-puff--there
was no one in the room--snatched it up and gazed at it with droll
veneration, then stood rapt a moment before the charming petticoats
("That's Dunoyer's first underskirt," she said to her mother) while
Sherringham explained that in this apartment an actress traditionally
changed her gown when the transaction was simple enough to save the long
ascent to her _loge_. He felt himself a cicerone showing a church to a
party of provincials; and indeed there was a grave hospitality in the
air, mingled with something academic and important, the tone of an
institution, a temple, which made them all, out of respect and delicacy,
hold their breath a little and tread the shining floors with discretion.

These precautions increased--Mrs. Rooth crept about like a friendly but
undomesticated cat--after they entered the foyer itself, a square,
spacious saloon covered with pictures and relics and draped in official
green velvet, where the _genius loci_ holds a reception every night in
the year. The effect was freshly charming to Peter; he was fond of the
place, always saw it again with pleasure, enjoyed its honourable look
and the way, among the portraits and scrolls, the records of a splendid
history, the green velvet and the waxed floors, the _genius loci_ seemed
to be "at home" in the quiet lamplight. At the end of the room, in an
ample chimney, blazed a fire of logs. Miriam said nothing; they looked
about, noting that most of the portraits and pictures were
"old-fashioned," and Basil Dashwood expressed disappointment at the
absence of all the people they wanted most to see. Three or four
gentlemen in evening dress circulated slowly, looking, like themselves,
at the pictures, and another gentleman stood before a lady, with whom he
was in conversation, seated against the wall. The foyer resembled in
these conditions a ball-room, cleared for the dance, before the guests
or the music had arrived.

"Oh it's enough to see _this_; it makes my heart beat," said Miriam.
"It's full of the vanished past, it makes me cry. I feel them