Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth Deserted rooms of luxury and state, Which old magnificence had rudely furnished With pictures, cabinets of ancient date, And carvings, gilt and burnished,—Hood.

The carriage drew up at the foot of a flight of stone steps, leading to the front entrance of the house. The double oak doors stood wide open, showing the lighted hall and a group of people waiting.

Sybil looked eagerly from the carriage window.

“I do declare,” she exclaimed, “if there is not, not only Miss Tabby, but Miss Libby and Mrs. Winterose besides; Mrs. Winterose,” she explained, turning to her guest, “is the widow of our late land steward. She is also my foster-mother, and the mother of the two maiden ladies, Miss Tabby, who is our housekeeper, and Miss Libby, who lives with the widowed parent at home. They have come to welcome us back. Heaven bless them!”

As Sybil spoke, Mr. Berners dropped down from his perch on the coachman’s box, and opened the carriage door.

He assisted first his wife, and then their guest, to alight. And then he took the sleeping child from the nurse’s arms, while she herself got out.

“You know the way, dearest Sybil! Run on before, and I will take charge of our fair friend,” said Mr. Berners, as he gave his arm to Mrs. Blondelle to lead her up the steps.

But Sybil had not waited for this permission. Too eager to meet the dear old friends of her childhood to care for any one else just then, or even to feel a twinge of jealousy at the words and actions of her husband, she flew past him up the stairs and into the arms of her foster-mother, who folded the beautiful, impetuous creature to her bosom, and welcomed her home with heartfelt emotion.Miss Tabby and Miss Libby next took their turns to be embraced and kissed.

And then the old servants crowded around to welcome their beloved young mistress; to every one of them she gave a cordial grasp of her hand, and loving words.

“It is very delightful,” she said, with tears of joy in her eyes, “it is very, very delightful to be so warmly welcomed home.”

“Everything as well as everybody welcomes you home, Miss Sybil! Even the Black Torrent! I never heard the cascade sing so loud and merry as it does to-night!” said Old Abe, or Father Abraham, as he was called, for being a full centenarian, and the oldest negro, by twenty years, of any on the estate.

“Thank you, dear old Uncle Abe! I know you all welcome me home! And I love to think that my torrent does too! And now, Miss Tabby, you got the letter I wrote from Underhill, asking you to have the spare rooms prepared for the visitors we were to bring with us?” inquired Sybil, turning to her housekeeper.

“Yes, ma’am, and your orders is obeyed, and the rooms is all ready, as well as yourn and Mr. Berners’, even to the kindling of the fires, which has been burning in the chimneys to air them rooms all this blessed day,” answered Miss Tabby.

“That is right, and I thank you; and now here comes our visitor,” said Sybil, as her guest approached leaning on her husband’s arm. They had certainly lingered a little on the way; but Sybil was too happy to notice that circumstance now. The jealous wife was for the time subdued within her, and all the hospitable hostess was in the ascendant.

“You are welcome to Black Hall, my dear Mrs. Blondelle,” she said, advancing to receive her guest. “And now, will you walk into our sitting parlor and rest awhile before taking off your wraps; or shall I show you at once to your rooms, which are quite ready for you?”

“At once to my rooms, if you please, Mrs. Berners; for, you see, my poor little Cromartie is already fast asleep.”

“Come, then; you will not have far to go. It is on this floor,” said Sybil, with a smile, as she led the way down the wide hall, past the great staircase, and then turned to the right and went down a long passage, until she came to a door, which she opened.

“Here is your bed-chamber,” said Sybil, inviting her guest to enter a large and richly furnished room; “and beyond this, and connected with it, is another and a smaller apartment, which is properly the dressing-room, but which I have had fitted up as a nursery for your child and his nurse.”

“Many thanks,” replied Rosa Blondelle, as she followed her hostess into the room, and glanced around with the natural curiosity we all feel in entering a strange place.

The room was very spacious, and had many doors and windows. Its furniture was all green, which would have seemed rather gloomy, but for the bright wood fire on the hearth, that lighted up all the scene with cheerfulness.

Sybil drew an easy-chair to the chimney corner, and invited her guest to sit down.

But Rosa was too curious about her surroundings to yield herself immediately to rest.

“What an interesting old place!” she said, walking about the chamber and examining every thing.

Meanwhile the nurse-maid, more practical than her mistress, had found the door of the adjoining nursery and passed into it to put her infant charge to bed.

“Oh!” exclaimed Rosa, who had drawn aside one of the green moreen window curtains and was looking out—“Oh! what a wild, beautiful place! But these windows open right upon the grounds, and there are no outside shutters! Is there no danger?”“No danger whatever, my dear Mrs. Blondelle. These windows open at the back of the house, upon the grounds, which run quite back to the foot of the mountain. These grounds are very private, being quite inaccessible, except through the front grounds of the house,” said Sybil, soothingly.

“But oh!” whispered Mrs. Blondelle, nowise tranquilized by the answer of her hostess—“Oh! what are those white things that I see standing among the bushes at the foot of the mountain? They look like—tombstones!” she added, with a shudder.

“They are tombstones,” replied Sybil in a low, grave voice; “that is our family burial-ground, and all the Berners, for seven generations, lie buried there.”

“Oh, good gracious!” gasped Rosa Blondelle, dropping the curtain and turning away.

“Don’t be alarmed,” smiled Sybil. “The place is much farther off than it seems. And now, my dear Mrs. Blondelle, let me make you acquainted with the bearings of this green bedroom, and then you will like it better. You see it is in the right wing of the house, and that accounts for its having windows on three sides, back, front, and end, and doors that connect with the house and doors that lead to the grounds. This door,” she said, opening one on the left-hand side of the fireplace—“this door leads up this little narrow staircase directly into my chamber, which is immediately above this, as my dressing-room is immediately above your nursery. So, my dear, if ever you should feel nervous or alarmed, all you have to do is to open this little door, and run up these stairs and knock loudly at the upper door, which is near the head of my bed. I shall hear you, and fly to your assistance.”

“Yes,” laughed Rosa. “But suppose some robber were to get into these windows, and be right upon me before I could run, what should I do then?”“Call for assistance, and Mr. Berners and myself will run down to your rescue. But in order to make that practicable, you must always leave that lower stair door unfastened; and you may do it with perfect safety, as it leads nowhere but into my bedroom.”

“I will remember always to leave it unfastened,” replied Rosa.

“But, my dear, I assure you there is not the least shadow of a shade of danger. Our faithful negroes are all around us on the outside, and our faithful dumb guardians sleep on the mats in the large hall and the smaller passages. However, if you still feel nervous, I will have one of the maids sleep in your room, and one of the men sleep in the passage outside,” said Sybil.

“Oh, no, not for the world would I disturb the arrangements of the family. I am not at all nervous now,” said Rosa Blondelle.

“Then, dear, get ready for supper; for it has been ready for us for an hour past, and I am sure you must need it. I will, with your permission, go up to my own room by these stairs; and when I have changed my dress, I will come down the same way and take you in to supper,” said Sybil, as, with a smile and a bow, she opened the door and slipped away up to her own room.

Rosa Blondelle passed into the little adjoining nursery, to see after her child.

The room, small as it was, had two windows, one west and one south, and a little fireplace north. The east side was only broken by the door that communicated with the bedroom. There were green curtains to the two windows, green carpet on the floor, and green covers to the rocking-chair and the child’s chairs, which were the only ones in the room. There was a cot-bed for the nurse and a crib for the child. A well-supplied wash-stand completed the furniture. The child lay sleeping soundly in his crib, and the nurse sat by him, occupying herself with some white embroidery that she habitually carried in her pocket, to fill up spare moments profitably.

“Crow is quite well, Janet?” inquired the young mother, approaching and looking at her rosy boy.

“Yes, me leddy, and sleeping like an angel,” answered the woman.

“Those are very comfortable quarters, Janet.”

“Yes, me leddy, though the roaring of yon Black Torrent, as they ca’ it, gars me grew. I wonder does it always roar sae loud.”

“Oh no, Janet. Mr. Berners says that it only sounds so when very much swollen by the rains. And Mr. Berners should know.”

“Aye, ma’am, and sae he suld! And a very fine gentleman is the laird!”

“He is not a laird, Janet! There are no lairds in America.”

“And what will he be then, ma’am?”

“Simply a gentleman—Mr. Berners.”

“It is a pity he is na a laird, ma’am, and a duke to the back of that! a princely gentleman he is, me leddy.”

“I quite agree with you, Janet. Well, leave your charge for a moment, and come and arrange my hair for me. Unluckily I can not change my dress, for my luggage was left behind at Blackville, and I don’t suppose it has arrived here yet,” said Rosa Blondelle, as she returned to her room attended by her maid. But there an agreeable surprise met her. She found her trunks set in order, ready for her.

“I declare, there they are! And I suppose the servants who brought them, finding the door wide open and no one in the room, just put them in here and retired. Janet, open that trunk and get out my black velvet, and point lace set. I must not wear anything very light and gay on this first evening, after a fatiguing journey, when we all feel so tired as to be fit for nothing but bed,” said Rosa Blondelle, throwing herself languidly into the green-covered easy-chair before the dressing-table.

“And, ’deed, me leddy, there’s nae dress ye look sae weell in as that bonny black velvet,” said the maid.

Rosa knew this well, and for this reason, perhaps, selected the dress.

The maid quickly and skilfully arranged her mistress’s hair in its natural golden ringlets, that needed no ornament whatever. And when her toilet was complete, Rosa Blondelle’s fair beauty was even more resplendent than usual, from its contrast with the rich blackness of her dress.

“‘A star upon the brow of night!’” quoted Sybil, as she entered the room and stood for a moment in involuntary admiration. Then, with a smile, she drew the arm of her guest within her own and led her off to the supper-table, where they were joined by Mr. Berners.

It was a warm wainscotted little room, with crimson carpet and crimson curtains, a good open fire of hickory wood, and a small, but luxuriously spread supper-table.

Mr. Berners led their guest to her place at the board, and left his wife to follow. These courtesies were no doubt due the visitor, yet they made the wife’s heart ache. She hated to miss the attentions her husband had always hitherto bestowed on her alone; and she hated more to see them lavished on another, and that other a beautiful, fascinating, and, as she half suspected, most dangerous woman. It was in vain she said to herself that these attentions were no more than any gentleman should show to the invited visitor of his wife. She could not argue away her heartache. She could not endure to see her husband touch the beauty’s hand. It drove her almost out of her self-possession to see their eyes meet in that provoking mutual smile. Oh! how she repented ever having invited this fatal beauty to her house! And yet she pitied the friendless stranger too, and she struggled bravely against those feelings of jealousy and hatred that were creeping into her heart. And, in fact, from this time the whole inner life of Sybil Berners became one hard struggle between her passions and her reason. And this struggle soon manifested itself in a series of inconsistencies of conduct that were perfectly incomprehensible to both Lyon Berners and Rosa Blondelle.

For instance, on this first night at home, while they sat at the supper-table. Sybil was silent, abstracted, and depressed. Her companions mentally ascribed her condition to fatigue; but Sybil then scarcely knew what fatigue meant. After supper she aroused herself by an effort, and offered to attend Mrs. Blondelle back again to that lady’s chamber; and when they got there, even lingered a little while, and very kindly repeated her request that if Rosa should be frightened in the night, she should run up the communicating stairs and rap at Sybil’s bedroom door for assistance. And then Sybil bade her visitor good-night, and vanished up the stairs.

The travellers were all very tired, and so, notwithstanding Rosa’s fears and Sybil’s jealousy, they were all soon fast asleep.