The girl led the way to the fire, and, seating herself upon one of
the sofas described, invited Paul to the opposite place. His
bewilderment was intense, and with a lingering gaze at the oddities
surrounding him, he accepted the invitation. Not another soul had
been seen since he entered. Did the girl live alone? It seemed
incredible; and yet where were her people?
Dorothy pulled off her gloves and warmed her fingers before the
cheerful blaze, and then stood eying with evident satisfaction the
costly gems with which they were loaded. The light seemed to shine
directly through her delicate palms, and to fall upon her face and
hair and quaint old-fashioned costume with singular effect. There was
something so bizarre and yet so spirituelle in her appearance that
Henley could not help observing in what perfect harmony she seemed
with her environment. It was some minutes before either of them
spoke--Paul loth to express his surprise for fear of betraying a lack
of knowledge he might possibly be expected to possess, while Dorothy,
in an apparent fit of abstraction, had evidently forgotten her guest
and all else, save the cheerful fire before her. Presently she
withdrew her eyes from their fixed stare at the flames, and, looking
at Paul, said: "You must be hungry."
There was something so incongruous with his surroundings and recent
train of thought in the girl's sudden remark that Henley could not
help laughing.
"One would scarcely expect to eat in such a remarkable home as yours,
Miss Guir," he replied, looking into her earnest eyes, and wondering
if she ordinarily dined alone.
"Nevertheless, we will in an hour," she answered, "and I shall expect
you to have an excellent appetite after our long drive."
Paul wanted to ask about the members of her family, but thought it
wisest to say nothing for the present. Surely they would appear in
due season, for it was impossible the girl could live alone in so
large a house, and without natural protection; and so he simply made
a further allusion to the apparent age and great picturesqueness of
the building.
"Yes," said Dorothy, again gazing into the fire, "it is old--considerably
more than a hundred years. It was built in the Colonial days, when things
were rougher and good work more difficult to obtain."
"But surely these portraits and historical scenes were the work of an
artist," Henley ventured to observe, looking at a strange head of
Medusa.
"Yes," she answered, "the one you are looking at was done by Ah Ben."