opinion; though I fear he lived in too late an age for such order of
minds. It would have been better for him perhaps if he had succeeded in
becoming King of Poland.'

'I hope there is a portrait of him,' said the lady; 'there is nothing I
long so much to see.'

'I rather think there is a portrait,' replied her companion, somewhat
drily. 'We will try to find it out. Do not you think I make not a bad
cicerone?'

'Indeed, most excellent,' replied the lady.

'I perceive you are a master of your subject,' replied the gentleman,
thus affording Ferdinand an easy opportunity of telling them who he was.
The hint, however, was not accepted.

'And now,' said Ferdinand, 'we will ascend the staircase.'

Accordingly they mounted a large spiral staircase which filled the space
of a round tower, and was lighted from the top by a lantern of rich,
coloured glass on which were emblazoned the arms of the family. Then
they entered the vestibule, an apartment spacious enough for a salon;
which, however, was not fitted up in the Gothic style, but of which the
painted ceiling, the gilded panels, and inlaid floor were more suitable
to a French palace. The brilliant doors of this vestibule opened in many
directions upon long suites of state chambers, which indeed merited the
description of shells. They were nothing more; of many the flooring was
not even laid down; the walls of all were rough and plastered.

'Ah!' said the lady, 'what a pity it is not finished!'

'It is indeed desolate,' observed Ferdinand; 'but here perhaps is
something more to your taste.' So saying, he opened another door and
ushered them into the picture gallery.

It was a superb chamber nearly two hundred feet in length, and contained
only portraits of the family, or pictures of their achievements. It was
of a pale green colour, lighted from the top; and the floor, of oak and
ebony, was partially covered with a single Persian carpet, of fanciful
pattern and brilliant dye, a present from the Sultan to the great Sir
Ferdinand. The earlier annals of the family were illustrated by a series
of paintings by modern masters, representing the battle of Hastings,
the siege of Ascalon, the meeting at Runnymede, the various invasions
of France, and some of the most striking incidents in the Wars of the
Roses, in all of which a valiant Armyn prominently figured. At length
they stood before the first contemporary portrait of the Armyn family,
one of Cardinal Stephen Armyn, by