"That's in America?" said the housekeeper. "Have you no old houses like this there, ma'am?"
"Why, we are not old ourselves," said Dolly. "When this house was first begun to be built, our country was full of red Indians."
"Is it possible! And are there Indians there yet, ma'am?"
"No. Oh, yes, in the country, there are; but they are driven far off,--to the west--what there are of them.--This is very beautiful!"
"I never heard anybody call this old hall beautiful before," said the housekeeper, smiling.
"It is so large, and high, and so simple; and these old time things make it so respectable," said Dolly.
"Respectable! yes, ma'am, it is that. Shall we go on and see something better?"
But her young visitor had fallen to studying the ceiling, which had curious carvings and panellings, and paintings which once had been bright. There was such a flavour of past ages in the place, that Dolly's fancy was all alive and excited. Mrs. Jersey waited, watching her, smiling in a satisfied manner; and then, after a while, when Dolly would let her, she opened the door into another apartment. A great door of carved oak it was, through which Dolly went expectantly, and then stood still with a little cry. The first thing she saw was the great windows, down to the floor, all along one side of a large room, through which a view was given into the park landscape. The grand trees, the beautiful green turf, the sunlight and shadow, caught her eye for a minute; and then it came back to the view within the windows. Opposite this row of windows was an enormous marble chimney-piece; the family arms, which Dolly was getting to know, blazoned upon it in brilliant colours. Right and left of the fireplace hung old family portraits. But when Dolly turned next to give a look at the side of the hall from which she had entered, she found that the whole wall was of a piece with the great carved door; it was filled with carvings, figures in high relief, very richly executed. For a long while Dolly studied these figures. Mrs. Jersey could give her little help in understanding them, but having, as she fancied, got hold of a clue, Dolly pursued it; admiring the life and expression in the figures, and the richly-carved accessories. The whole hall was a study to her. On the further side went up the staircases leading to the next story. Between them opened the entrance into the dining-hall.
Further than these three halls, Mrs. Jersey almost despaired of getting Dolly that day. In the dining-hall was a portrait of Queen Elizabeth; and before it Dolly sat down, and studied it.
"Did she look like that?" she said finally.
"Surely, she must," said the housekeeper. "The picture is thought a deal of. It was painted by a famous painter, I've been told."
"She was very ugly, then!" said Dolly.
"Handsome is that handsome does," said the housekeeper, smiling; "and, to be sure, I never could make out that Her Majesty was altogether handsome in her doings; though perhaps that's the fault of my stupidity."
"She looks cold," said Dolly; "she looks cruel."
"I'm afraid, by all I have read of her, she was a little of both."
"And how she is dressed!--Who is that, the next to her?"
"Mary Stuart; Mary, Queen of Scotland; this lady's rival."
"Rival?" said Dolly. "No, I do not think she was; only Elizabeth chose to think her so. How lovely, how lovely!"
"Yes, and by all accounts the portrait tells truth. They say, so she was to be sure."
"She looks so innocent, so sweet," said Dolly, fixed before the two pictures.
"Do you think she wasn't?"
"One cannot feel quite comfortable about her. The story is ugly, Mrs.
Jersey. But how a woman with that face could do anything fearfully wicked, it is hard to imagine. Poor thing!"
"You are very kind, I am sure, to a person of whom you hold such a bad opinion," said the housekeeper, amused.
"I am sorry for them both," said Dolly. "Life wasn't much good to either of them, I should think."
"Queen Elizabeth had power," said Mrs. Jersey; "and Queen Mary had admiration, I understand."
"Yes, but Elizabeth wanted the admiration, and Mary Stuart wanted the power," said Dolly. "Neither of them got what she wanted."
"Few people do in this world, my young lady."
"Do you think so?"
"Young people generally think they will," said the housekeeper;--"and old people know better."
"But why should that be?"
"Does Miss Dolly Copley know already what _she_ wants?" the housekeeper asked.
"No," said Dolly, laughing out; "not at all. I do not know what I want.
I do not think I want anything in particular, Mrs. Jersey."
"Keep so, my dear; that is best."
"Why? Because I should be so sure to be disappointed?"
"You might. But it is safe to let God choose for us, Miss Copley; and as soon as we begin to plan, we begin to work for our plans, generally; and if our plan is not _His_ plan,--that makes trouble, you see, and confusion."
"Of course," said Dolly thoughtfully. "Yet it seems to me it would be pleasant to have some particular object that one was striving after.
The days go by, one after another, one like another, and seem to accomplish nothing. I should like to have some purpose, some end in life, to be striving for and attaining."
"A servant of Christ need never want that," said the housekeeper.
"I have not anything in special to do," said Dolly, looking at her.
"Every servant has something special to do," the other answered.
"I have to take care of mother. But that is not work; it is not work for Christ, at least, Mrs. Jersey."
"Dear, it may be. Everything you do, you may do for Him; for He has given it to you to do for Him. That is, unless it is something you are choosing for yourself."
Dolly pondered.
"And if there be nothing ready to hand that you call work, there is always preparation for work to be done," Mrs. Jersey went on.
"What sort?"
"The knowledge of the Bible,--and the knowledge of Christ, to seek and win. That surely."
"The knowledge of the Bible? Mrs. Jersey, I know the Bible pretty well."
"And Christ also?"
Dolly mused again, with a very grave face.
"I do not quite know what you mean."