It was a part of the house not best suited for the purpose, connected with the armoury by a descent of a few steps. It lay over some of the housekeeping department, was too near the great hall, and looked into the flagged court. A library should be on the ground-floor in a quiet wing, with an outlook on grass, and the possibility of gaining it at once without going through long passages. Nor was the library itself, architecturally considered, at all superior to its position. The books had greatly outgrown the space allotted to them, and several of the neighbouring rooms had been annexed as occasion required; hence it consisted of half-a-dozen rooms, some of them merely closets intended for dressing-rooms, and all very ill lighted. I entered it however in no critical spirit, but with a feeling of reverential delight. My uncle’s books had taught me to love books. I had been accustomed to consider his five hundred volumes a wonderful library; but here were thousands--as old, as musty, as neglected, as dilapidated, therefore as certainly full of wonder and discovery, as man or boy could wish.--Oh the treasures of a house that has been growing for ages! I leave a whole roomful of lethal weapons, to descend three steps into six roomfuls of books--each ‘the precious life-blood of a master-spirit’--for as yet in my eyes all books were worthy! Which did I love best? Old swords or old books? I could not tell! I had only the grace to know which I _ought_ to love best. As we passed from the first room into the second, up rose a white thing from the corner of the window-seat, and came towards us. I started. Mrs Wilson exclaimed: ‘La! Miss Clara! how ever--? The rest was lost in the abyss of possibility. ‘They told me you were somewhere about, Mrs Wilson, and I thought I had better wait here. How do you do?’ ‘La, child, you’ve given me such a turn!’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘You might have been a ghost if it had been in the middle of the night.’ [Illustration: SHE WAS A YEAR OR TWO OLDER THAN MYSELF, I THOUGHT, AND THE LOVLIEST CREATURE I HAD EVER SEEN.] ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Wilson,’ said the girl merrily. ‘Only you see if it had been a ghost it couldn’t have been me.’ ‘How’s your papa, Miss Clara?’ ‘Oh! he’s always quite well.’ ‘When did you see him?’ ‘To-day. He’s at home with grandpapa now.’ ‘And you ran away and left him?’ ‘Not quite that. He and grandpapa went out about some business--to the copse at Deadman’s Hollow, I think. They didn’t want my advice--they never do; so I came to see you, Mrs Wilson.’