That they were, being of dark oak, and polished like glass with age and much scrubbing. However, I was used to polished floors, and so did not get a fall. We traversed a long gallery hung with pictures, and came to my mother's room, which was large and low. Above the wainscot, the walls were covered with old-fashioned stamped and gilded leather, such as one seldom sees now. The bed was of needlework, with wondrous white and fine linen—a matter in which we Corbets have always been particular. There was a small Turkey carpet on the floor, and quite a fine Venice glass, with branches, handsomer than that in my aunt's dressing-room in London. I thought the room as pretty as any one I had ever seen. Indeed, the whole house was finished with a richness uncommon in remote country houses at that day, for the men of the family, taking naturally to a seafaring life, had brought home from abroad many articles of luxury and beauty. My own room was by far the prettiest I had ever inhabited, even at any aunt's house in London. It was partly over the porch, as my aunt had said, and had a kind of projecting window which commanded a lovely view of the sea and the shore. The bed was small and hung with white, and there was a queer old cabinet or chest of drawers, which reminded me at once of Jeanne's cherished bahut, which she often sighed over. "That cabinet came from the south of France, they say," said Rosamond, seeing my eyes fixed upon it. "My grandfather brought it home for a present to his wife." "There she goes," said Betty, laughing. "Rosamond knows the history of every old piece of furniture and tapestry and every old picture and sampler in the old house, and will retail them to you by the hour, if you care to listen to her. They are all precious relics in her eyes." "I am sure I shall care," said I, seeing that Rosamond looked a little dashed. "I love things that have histories, and that old cabinet is so like one that my poor foster-mother used to have, that I fell in love with it in a moment; I think Rosamond and I will agree finely." It was now Betty's turn to look a little vexed, but her face cleared up directly. "You will have abundance of entertainment, then, for the house is a museum of old furniture and oddities. But this old tabernacle is a convenient affair. Here are empty drawers, as you see, and a place to write, and in this large drawer you will find clean towels and napkins as you want them. Come, Rosamond, let us leave Agnes to dress herself. I am sure she must feel the need of it."