.

They were standing in the hall. It was large--at least it seemed so in
comparison with the impression given by the outside of the house, which
Jacinth knew so well, and which was really cottage-like. The hall was
wainscoted in oak half-way up, where the panels met a bluish-green
Japanese-looking paper. A really old oriental paper it was, such as is
not even nowadays to be procured in England, so thickly covered with
tracery of leaves and flowers and birds and butterflies in a delightful
tangle, that the underlying colour was more felt than seen. A short
staircase of wide shallow steps ran up one side, disappearing apparently
into the wall, and up this staircase, rather to Jacinth's surprise--for
there were several doors in the hall leading, no doubt, to the principal
ground-floor rooms--stepped Thornley in a gingerly manner till he
reached the little landing at the top. There he threw open a door,
papered like the walls so cleverly as to be invisible when closed,
though it was a good-sized door--wide and high. And as soon as the girl,
following behind, caught sight of the vista now revealed, she wondered
no more, as she had been doing, at Lady Myrtle's choosing an up-stairs
room for her boudoir.

'In a town it would be different,' Jacinth had been saying to herself,
'but in the country it's so much nicer to be able to get out into the
garden at once.'

But she did not understand the peculiar architecture of Robin Redbreast.
A glow of colour met her eyes, for the door in the wall opened on to a
gallery, three sides of which ran round an inner hall on the
ground-floor, while the fourth--that facing her--was all conservatory,
and conservatory of the most perfect kind. The girl started,
half-dazzled by the unexpected radiance, and drew a quick breath of
satisfaction, as the butler passed along the side of the gallery and
threw open a door leading in among the flowers--she, following closely,
lingered a moment while the old servant passed on, partly to give him
time to announce her, partly to enjoy for half an instant the fragrance
and beauty around her.

Then came a voice, and a figure in the inner doorway--the figure that
already seemed so familiar to her, though she had seen it but once.

'My dear child--my dear Jacinth,' and she felt two kind arms thrown
round her, and the soft withered cheek of the old lady pressed against
her own. 'This is delightful--to have you all to myself--my own child
for the time.'

J