The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins Read Free Book Online Page A

Halcombe, answering the servant for
me, in her quick, ready way. "Mr. Hartright will come out
directly. I was about to say," she went on, addressing me again,
"that my sister and I have a large collection of my mother's
letters, addressed to my father and to hers. In the absence of
any other means of getting information, I will pass the morning in
looking over my mother's correspondence with Mr. Fairlie. He was
fond of London, and was constantly away from his country home; and
she was accustomed, at such times, to write and report to him how
things went on at Limmeridge. Her letters are full of references
to the school in which she took so strong an interest; and I think
it more than likely that I may have discovered something when we
meet again. The luncheon hour is two, Mr. Hartright. I shall
have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister by that time,
and we will occupy the afternoon in driving round the
neighbourhood and showing you all our pet points of view. Till
two o'clock, then, farewell."
    She nodded to me with the lively grace, the delightful refinement
of familiarity, which characterised all that she did and all that
she said; and disappeared by a door at the lower end of the room.
As soon as she had left me, I turned my steps towards the hall,
and followed the servant, on my way, for the first time, to the
presence of Mr. Fairlie.
VII
    My conductor led me upstairs into a passage which took us back to
the bedchamber in which I had slept during the past night; and
opening the door next to it, begged me to look in.
    "I have my master's orders to show you your own sitting-room,
sir," said the man, "and to inquire if you approve of the
situation and the light."
    I must have been hard to please, indeed, if I had not approved of
the room, and of everything about it. The bow-window looked out
on the same lovely view which I had admired, in the morning, from
my bedroom. The furniture was the perfection of luxury and
beauty; the table in the centre was bright with gaily bound books,
elegant conveniences for writing, and beautiful flowers; the
second table, near the window, was covered with all the necessary
materials for mounting water-colour drawings, and had a little
easel attached to it, which I could expand or fold up at will; the
walls were hung with gaily tinted chintz; and the floor was spread
with Indian matting in maize-colour and red. It was the prettiest
and most luxurious little sitting-room I had ever seen; and I
admired it with the warmest enthusiasm.
    The solemn servant was far too highly trained to betray the
slightest satisfaction. He bowed with icy deference when my terms
of eulogy were all exhausted, and silently opened the door for me
to go out into the passage again.
    We turned a corner, and entered a long second passage, ascended a
short flight of stairs at the end, crossed a small circular upper
hall, and stopped in front of a door covered with dark baize. The
servant opened this door, and led me on a few yards to a second;
opened that also, and disclosed two curtains of pale sea-green
silk hanging before us; raised one of them noiselessly; softly
uttered the words, "Mr. Hartright," and left me.
    I found myself in a large, lofty room, with a magnificent carved
ceiling, and with a carpet over the floor, so thick and soft that
it felt like piles of velvet under my feet. One side of the room
was occupied by a long bookcase of some rare inlaid wood that was
quite new to me. It was not more than six feet high, and the top
was adorned with statuettes in marble, ranged at regular distances
one from the other. On the opposite side stood two antique
cabinets; and between them, and above them, hung a picture of the
Virgin and Child, protected by glass, and bearing Raphael's name
on the gilt tablet at the bottom of the frame. On my right hand
and on my left, as I stood inside the door, were chiffoniers and
little stands in buhl and marquetterie, loaded with figures in
Dresden china, with rare vases, ivory