“You shall be accommodated,” said Gloria, with a smile, as she went up the moss-grown steps to the wide-open door—a corresponding door at the back of the hall stood, also, wide open, giving a vista through the spacious hall that was paved with flag-stones of gray rock, and furnished with rude benches of oak and mats of cedar shavings. A broad staircase ascended from the middle of the floor. And near each side of the foot of this staircase, were broad, open chimneys in which great fires of brushwood blazed, at once clearing the atmosphere and heating the place. Yet neither the brilliant sunshine, pouring in through the open doors, nor the genial fire flaming up the chimneys, could dispel a certain air of gloom that pervaded the house, depressing all who were within it. Four inner doors—two on each side—were also open, giving views of large, lofty rooms, all with flagstone floors and bare stone walls, and rude, plain oak chairs and tables. No carpets, no curtains, no pictures varied the coarse monotony of their aspect. David Lindsay came out from one of the rooms, and seeing Gloria, exclaimed: “You here! I had hoped to have had things in some better order before letting you see the old house. But, how are you? I hope you slept well and are refreshed.” “Thanks. Yes, to all your questions. And now I wish to go all over the house,” said the young lady. “In its present condition it is fit for nothing but a barn or store-house! The more I see of it the more easily I can conceive of the savage nature of the men who built and lived in it; and the more I wonder at its purchase by such a man as the late Count de la Vera! But the mountains are supposed to be rich in mineral wealth for any who have money, and enterprise enough to work them.” While the two spoke together, Mrs. Brent and one of her nephews came in by the front door. “Well, honey, you see as soon as I righted up the house, I felt as if I ought to come here and see if I could be useful; but I felt most afraid to come up that lonesome road by myself, and maybe I mightn’t ’a’ got here, after all, if young Jim hadn’t come along with a quarter of mutton for the larder, and I just made him stop and bear me company,” she said, as she went to one of the fires and began to warm her hands. “Are the rooms up stairs as bad or worse than these?” inquired Gloria, after she had inspected all on the lower floor. “Oh, they are better. Come up and see them, honey. The bedrooms are all good, and the beds are well preserved. You see, honey, the place has not been so badly neglected as you might think. I have done something to earn my salary. I have come up here in the day once every week with some of the niggers, and had the place opened and aired and fires made in the bedrooms to dry the dampness,” said Mrs. Brent, as she led the way up the broad staircase.