It was of ancient stone, but not worn as would have been a narrow
stair. A great rope of silk, a modern addition, ran up along the
wall for a hand-rail; and with slow-moving withered hand upon it, up
the glorious ascent climbed the serving man, suggesting to Donal's
eye the crawling of an insect, to his heart the redemption of the
sons of God.
With the stair yet ascending above them as if it would never stop,
the man paused upon a step no broader than the rest, and opening a
door in the round of the well, said, "Mr. Grant, my lord," and stood
aside for Donal to enter.
He found himself in the presence of a tall, bowed man, with a
large-featured white face, thin and worn, and a deep-sunken eye that
gleamed with an unhealthy life. His hair was thin, but covered his
head, and was only streaked with gray. His hands were long and thin
and white; his feet in large shoes, looking the larger that they
came out from narrow trousers, which were of shepherd-tartan. His
coat was of light-blue, with a high collar of velvet, and much too
wide for him. A black silk neckerchief tied carelessly about his
throat, and a waistcoat of pineapple shawl-stuff, completed his
dress. On one long little finger shone a stone which Donal took for
an emerald. He motioned his visitor to a seat, and went on writing,
with a rudeness more like that of a successful contractor than a
nobleman.
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