“Yes. We’ll arrange for that hour twice a week. It will be neither too long nor too often to bore either of us. The rest of the time you’ll spend as best you can within the house and gardens.” CHAPTER IX MARIANA Rosalie went away again, upstairs to that corridor on which the rooms in which she lived were situated. Another meal was there in readiness, for the hour was now past one. She ate with little heart, the silent attendant by her side unwittingly depressing her. When the meal was over she went to a little sitting-room which Mariana had shown her, taking her small parcel of belongings with her, and shut the door. Here a fire was burning, the only one in that particular wing, for they seemed to be chary of fires here. The room had little of brightness about it otherwise. Its walls were panelled oak without design or ornament. An oaken table on three legs, a few high-backed chairs, a rug before the fireplace, polished boards the floor; that was all. A narrow window looked out upon the blank wall opposite, giving the room a gloomy, darkened look. Yet there was something about this simply furnished room that Rosalie liked. It was less luxurious than any other in that house which she had visited. She drew one of the high-backed chairs toward the fire, and sat down, her feet upon the fender. She had taken her small Book of Divine Inspiration from the parcel, and sat holding it idly in her hands, staring at the flames. After all, it was comforting to be able to hold something, something familiar and not strange, something that had been handled and read by loving hands and eyes, though now they were passed away for ever. For Rosalie, despite her behaviour downstairs, was only playing a part. Laughing or answering, there had been ever in her heart the Serpent’s tooth. It gnawed and stung with almost unendurable pain. O God! to be but rid of it for five sweet minutes. So far as Rosalie was concerned, there were no late dinners in this house of mystery. She had ordinary tea at five o’clock, and then the lights for the evening were brought in, and the red curtains drawn. About seven Mariana knocked at the door, and entered. “This is my evening for playing,” said she quietly; “would you care to come and listen to me?” “Thank you; I should like to come very much. What do you play?” “Play? Oh! I always play on a violin; it’s my favourite amusement. It’s the way I always spend my night out.” “Night out,” thought Rosalie; “what an expression coming from her lips!” Aloud she said: “I’m very fond of music. Have you learnt long?” “I don’t remember learning, but I suppose I must have done.”