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Updated: April 30, 2025
Are we near Elverston? ''Twill be a mile, Miss: and please'm to mind I had no finger in't. 'Thanks thank you you're very good I shall always thank you, Tom, as long as I live! At length we entered Elverston. I think I was half wild. I don't know how I got into the hall. I was in the oak-parlour, I believe, when I saw cousin Monica. I was standing, my arms extended.
He came in by the side-door from the court, splashed with mud, and looking pale and concerned. He went straight up to Sir James. "May I speak with you, sir?" he said. The old man got up at once, and went down the hall with him. The rest waited, expecting them to return, but there was no sign of them; and Ralph at last rose and led the way to the oak-parlour.
While the officers of justice detained their prisoner in a sort of steward's room, Mr. Glossin was ushered into what was called the great oak-parlour, a long room, panelled with well-varnished wainscot, and adorned with the grim portraits of Sir Robert Hazlewood's ancestry.
While the officers of justice detained their prisoner in a sort of steward's room, Mr. Glossin was ushered into what was called the great oak-parlour, a long room, panelled with well-varnished wainscot, and adorned with the grim portraits of Sir Robert Hazlewood's ancestry.
On entering the oak-parlour he could not but recollect the feelings of solemn awe with which, when a boy, he had been affected at his occasional and rare admission to an apartment which he then supposed had not its equal save in the halls of princes.
When they crossed from the picture-gallery to the dining-room, he went down the stair between, and into the oak-parlour adjoining the great hall. There he threw himself into an easy chair which always stood for him in the great bay window, looking over the moat to the huge keep of the castle, and commanding through its western light the stone bridge which crossed it.
But come awa wi' me, hinny, till I show ye the oak-parlour how grandly it's keepit, just as if ye had been expected haine every day, I loot naebody sort it but my ain hands.
There was seldom an evening now on which his insignificant figure was not to be seen planted by the hearth in the snug little oak-parlour, smoking his pipe in that dull silent way of his, which was calculated to aggravate a lively person like Ellen Carley into some open expression of disgust or dislike.
On entering the oak-parlour he could not but recollect the feelings of solemn awe with which, when a boy, he had been affected at his occasional and rare admission to an apartment which he then supposed had not its equal save in the halls of princes.
But come awa wi' me, hinny, till I show ye the oak-parlour how grandly it's keepit, just as if ye had been expected haine every day, I loot naebody sort it but my ain hands.
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