We must now return for a brief space to Morley Court. The apartment which lay beneath what had been Sir Richard Ashwoode's bed-chamber², and in which Mary and her gay cousin, Emily Copland, had been wont³ to sit and work, and read and sing together, had grown to be considered, by long-established usage, the rightful and exclusive property of the ladies of the family, and had been surrendered up to their private occupation and absolute control. Around it stood full many a quaint⁴ cabinet of dark old wood, shining like polished jet, little bookcases, and tall old screens, and music stands, and drawing tables. These, along with a spinet⁵ and a guitar, and countless⁶ other quaint and pretty sundries indicating the habitual⁷ presence of feminine refinement⁸ and taste, abundantly furnished the chamber. In the window stood some choice and fragrant⁹ flowers, and the light fell softly upon the carpet through the clustering bowers¹⁰ of creeping plants which mantled¹¹ the outer wall, in sombre rivalry¹² of the full damask curtains, whose draperies hung around the deep receding¹³

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