"'For thereby,'" quoted my uncle, "'some have entertained angels unawares.'"
"You are not very likely to do that," I said to the Baronet, "and--"
The sound of carriage-wheels rattling over the gravel-path beneath the library windows checked the rest of my remark.
"That must be Angelo," said the Baronet, referring to his watch.
"Talk of Lucifer," said I, rising, "and he rustles his wings. With your leave, Sir Hugh, I'll retire for the night. I've no wish to see Angelo till the morning." And with these words I departed, leaving the representative of the Wyvilles and the head of the house of Leslie to welcome, perhaps it would be more correct to write receive, the late comer.
The bedroom allotted to me was, like those of the other guests, in the eastern wing of the Abbey, the western wing being appropriated to the servants' quarters. The front and central portions of the building contained the principal apartments; and the picture-gallery was at the rear on the ground-floor, connecting the two wings.
My room was a large old-fashioned chamber, whose oaken panels were draped with figured tapestry. An oriel casement with lancet-shaped panes of stained-glass gave me a fine view of the moonlit park, with the Nuns' Tower--Angelo's studio--rising grey and solitary above a dark clump of cedars.
There was a fire in the grate and its dancing caused strange shadows to quiver upon the walls and ceiling, seeming to invest the grim figures on the tapestry with life and motion--an illusion heightened by their rustling with the draught from the open door.
The supernatural element introduced into my mind by the butler's story played the wildest tricks with my imagination, reducing me to so tense a state of nervousness that I almost hesitated to look around, lest some eerie shape should meet my gaze. The sight of my face in the glass mirror so startled me that I turned the mirror round to the wall, in order that I might not be compelled to contemplate my own reflection, to which I felt attracted, not from vanity, but from a weird fascination that made me think it was another person in the room mimicking my movements. The brass knob of the door, too, was a source of annoyance, till I hung my handkerchief over it--it looked so like a gleaming eye. And when I had thus absurdly disposed of its glitter, I discovered many other eyes staring at me with maddening persistency from different parts of the room.