Taylor was in a dressing-room adjoining, laying out her young lady's wardrobe, and Christobelle surveyed the horrors of the tapestried chamber, which she was sure would in itself disturb her slumbers. The "Murder of the Innocents" stood in enormous proportions at the bottom of the room facing her bed, which was decorated with sable plumes round its summit. The brawny arms of the soldiery seizing the young children, their dreadful eyes, and the weapons they brandished over the heads of the hapless babes, took effect upon her imagination, and terrified her. Christobelle was quite sure the glare of the high wax-lights, when she retired for the night, would raise them into living bodies, that would "live, and move, and have their being," to her extremity of terror. The deep recesses, the dark oak furniture--all and each combined to render the room terrible. She would have given worlds to be at that moment even in the boudoir at Wetheral. Sir John tapped at his daughter's door, as he prepared to descend to the drawing-room: Christobelle was dressed, and ready to accompany him. She begged him to see her safely to her room-door every night, and confessed her alarm at the idea of passing so many hours in a place so full of horrors. If he could only see the horrid objects which glared round the walls of her room, he would not wonder at her disquietude! Sir John endeavoured to reason Christobelle into calmness, and he inquired why her rest should be disturbed by pictorial representations of Scripture history. Was not the hand of her Maker as mercifully stretched forth to uphold her among gobelin tapestry, as in the paper hangings of Wetheral? Christobelle acknowledged it was so. She was silenced; she did not offer any defence for her alarms, but she could not suppress them. That chamber would never be her "sleeping" apartment. She should never be able to close her eyes. A servant was in waiting to announce them, as they descended into the hall. The folding-doors were thrown open, their names were called over with proper emphasis, and they found themselves in the presence of Lord and Lady Ennismore, and the Countess-dowager. The latter rose, and advanced with her usual suavity. She took both Sir John's hands in hers. "My dear Sir John, this is a real and unexpected honour. I am delighted to see you. Miss Wetheral, you are welcome: Julia is anxious, I see, to appropriate you--fly to her, my love. We are a small family-party, you see, Sir John Wetheral; but we shall endeavour to amuse you at Bedinfield. Lady Wetheral is well, I hope." Sir John replied in courteous terms, that his lady was in health. "I hope you will find our dear Julia well, and as handsome as ever. Our Staffordshire air is excellent, and Julia's bloom is, I think, increased. Julia, I must not monopolise your father. It would not be just, so I resign him with reluctance."