, reduced now to shadows, Joseph and his
wicked brethren having faded to the same dull yellow hue, which Gardis
used to think was not the discrimination that should have been shown
between the just and the unjust. The old cabinets were crowded with
curious little Chinese images and vases, and on the high mantel were
candelabra with more crocodiles on them, and a large mirror which had so
long been veiled in gauze that Gardis had never fairly seen the fat,
gilt cherubs that surrounded it. A few inches of wax-candle still
remained in the candelabra, but they were never lighted, a tallow
substitute on the table serving as a nucleus during the eight months of
warm weather when the evenings were spent in the drawing-room. When it
was really cold, a fire was kindled in the boudoir--a narrow chamber in
the center of the large rambling old mansion, where, with closed doors
and curtained windows, the three sat together, Cousin Copeland reading
aloud, generally from the "Spectator," often pausing to jot down little
notes as they occurred to him in his orderly memorandum-book--"mere
outlines of phrases, but sufficiently full to recall the desired train
of thought," he observed. The ladies embroidered, Miss Margaretta
sitting before the large frame she had used when a girl. They did all
the sewing for the household (very little new material, and much
repairing of old), but these domestic labors were strictly confined to
the privacy of their own apartments; in the drawing-room or boudoir they
always embroidered. Gardis remembered this with sadness as she removed
the cover from the large frame, and glanced at "Moses in the Bulrushes,"
which her inexperienced hand could never hope to finish; she was
thinking of her aunt, but any one else would have thought of the
bulrushes, which were now pink, now saffron, and now blue, after some
mediaeval system of floss-silk vegetation.

Having gone all around the apartment and dusted everything, Chinese
images and all, Gardis opened the old piano and gently played a little
tune. Miss Margaretta had been her only teacher, and the young girl's
songs were old-fashioned; but the voice was sweet and full, and before
she knew it she was filling the house with her melody.

"Little Cupid one day in a myrtle-bough strayed.
And among the sweet blossoms he playfully played,
Plucking many a sweet from the boughs of the tree,
Till he felt that his finger was stung by a bee,"

sang Gardis