"Much keener, Charles, at all events," answered the old lady. "And so you are here at length. Well, I got all the letters, and Annie shall be another in the hall when you are gone; and, when she is tired of the old woman, she has a sunny chamber where the robins sing, for her own thoughts; and she shall be free to come and go according to all stipulations, and no question asked, were it to meet a gallant in the wood." "Nay, Charles, nay," cried Miss Walton, "why did you write my aunt such tales of me? My only stipulation was, indeed, that I might join him whenever a pause came in these sad doings, my dear aunt." "Oh, you shall be as free as air, sweet nun," replied Lady Margaret. "I never could abide to see a poor bird in a cage, or a dog tied by a chain; and when I was young I was as wild and wilful as my poor sister Ann was staid and good. I have now lived to well-nigh seventy years, still loving all freedom but that which God forbids--still hating all thraldom but that which love imposes. I was long happy, too, in shaping my own course, and I would see others happy in the self-same way. Come, dear child: while Charles disposes of his men, I will show you your bower, where you may reign, queen of yourself and all within it." Annie followed her aunt from the room, passed through another behind it, and entered a little sort of stone hall or vestibule, lighted from the top. Four doors were in the walls, and a small staircase at the further end, up which Lady Margaret led the way to the first floor above, where two doors appeared on either hand, with a gallery, fenced with an oaken balustrade running round the hall, at about twelve feet from the ground. Along this gallery the old lady led her young niece, and then through a long and somewhat tortuous passage, which was crossed by another some twenty yards down, that branched off to more rooms and corridors beyond. Then came a turn, and then another passage, and at the end three broad low steps led up to a large door. "Dear aunt," said Miss Walton, who had thought their journey would never end, "your house is a perfect labyrinth. I shall never find my way back." "It is somewhat crooked in its ways, child," answered Lady Margaret; "but you will make it out in time, never fear; that is to say, as far as you need to know it. Now, here is your bower;" and, opening the door, she led Miss Walton into a large roam looking to the south-west. The sun had just gone down, and the whole western sky was on fire with his parting look, so that a rosy light filled the wide chamber, from a large bay window, where, raised a step above the rest of the room, was a little platform with two seats, and a small table of inlaid wood.