The carved woodwork of
the railings and wainscotings and cornices had been devised by
ingenious and patient craftsmen, and the same portraits and old
engravings hung upon the walls that had been there when its mistress
could first remember. She had always been so well suited with her home
that she had never desired to change it in any particular. Her maids
were well drilled to their duties, and Priscilla, who was chief of the
staff, had been in that dignified position for many years. If Miss
Prince's grandmother could return to Dunport from another world, she
would hardly believe that she had left her earthly home for a day, it
presented so nearly the same appearance.
But however conscientiously the effort had been made to keep up the
old reputation for hospitality, it had somehow been a failure, and
Miss Prince had given fewer entertainments every year. Long ago, while
she was still a young woman, she had begun to wear a certain quaint
and elderly manner, which might have come from association with such
antiquated household gods and a desire to match well with her beloved
surroundings. A great many of her early friends had died, and she was
not the sort of person who can easily form new ties of intimate
friendship. She was very loyal to those who were still left, and, as
has been said, her interest in George Gerry, who was his father's
namesake and likeness, was a very great pleasure to her. Some persons
liked to whisper together now and then about the mysterious niece, who
was never mentioned otherwise.
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