It was a long, narrow place, hardly more than a wide
corridor, and appeared nowhere to afford distance enough for seeing
a picture. But Donal could ill judge, for the sole light in the
place came from the fires and candles in the rooms whose doors they
had left open behind them, with just a faint glimmer from the
vapour-buried moon, sufficing to show the outline of window after
window, and revealing something of the great length of the gallery.
By the time Donal overtook the earl, he was some distance down,
holding straight on into the long dusk, and still talking.
"This is my favourite promenade," he said, as if brought to himself
by the sound of Donal's overtaking steps. "After dinner always, Mr.
Grant, wet weather or dry, still or stormy, I walk here. What do I
care for the weather! It will be time when I am old to consult the
barometer!"
Donal wondered a little: there seemed no great hardihood in the
worst of weather to go pacing a picture-gallery, where the fiercest
storm that ever blew could send in only little threads of air
through the chinks of windows and doors!
"Yes," his lordship went on, "I taught myself hardship in my
boyhood, and I reap the fruits of it in my prime!--Come up here: I
will show you a prospect unequalled."
He stopped in front of a large picture, and began to talk as if
expatiating on the points of a landscape outspread before him.
Pages:
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255