Saraband for Two Sisters

“Not really. Only when we were in Cornwall there was periodical outcries against witches.”

“That persists not only in Cornwall but all over the country and through the ages.»

“But if there is such a thing as witchcraft and people want to practice it, why should they not?”

“It’s worship of the Devil, and witches are said to ill-wish and often bring about the deaths of those who offend them.”

“There are good ones, I believe ... white witches. They understand the properties of herbs and cure people with them. But they suffer often just the same.»

“There will always be unfairness.”

“And,” I went on, “those who follow the Catholic faith or are Puritans harm no one.”

That’s true enough, but it seems to me these different sects all wish to impose their will on others and that’s where the conflict comes in.”

“One day perhaps there will be a world, where people allow each other to think as they wish.”

“I see you are an idealist Also that you have had enough of the chapel. Come, I shall take you now to the solarium... the warm room of the house. I imagine your sitting there on sunny afternoons with your needlework, for you are going to make a tapestry, I know, to hang on the walls and which will last for hundreds of years.»

“I should like that.”

“You will choose your subject. What will it be?”

“No war,” I said. “There is too much war. I don’t like it”

“And you married a soldier!”

“I think you are the kind of soldier who fights for the right»

“And I can see that you are going to be a loyal and loving wife.»

“I shall do my best, but you will have to be patient with me. I know I have a great deal to learn of... er... marriage.”

“My dearest,” he said, “we both may have a good deal to learn.” My spirits lifted in the solarium. It faced south and the sun streamed in through the great semicircular bay window. The hangings were of deep blue with gold fringe and the window seats had cushions of the same rich color. The ceiling was most beautiful, delicately decorated and adorned with pictures of two cherubs floating on a cloud carrying between them the family crest. It was full of light and color and a complete contrast to the cold dank chapel.

Tapestry hung on one side of the wall . . , and here again die subject was battle-that of Hastings this time. Richard told me that it was the family’s proud boast that they had come to England with the Conqueror.

From the solarium we went to the King’s Chamber, so called because the King himself had spent a night there. The brick fireplace had been put in specially for him. With loving care Richard pointed out the four-centered chamfered arch and jambs and the beautiful carving round the sides. The King had given his permission for the royal arms to be placed over the door.

“Do you think he will come again?” I asked.

“It’s not unlikely,”

I tried to picture myself as hostess to the King and Queen and failed.

“The King’s manners are impeccable,” said Richard. “He would always be charming so you would need to have no fear if he did. But he is too concerned now with state matters to come visiting.” Then he turned to me and, drawing me to him, kissed my forehead tenderly. “You disturb yourself unnecessarily, Angelet,” he told me. “You believe you will be inadequate. Let me tell you this ... in a short while you will be asking yourself what there was to fear.” I knew that he was telling me that everything would be well between us and I was suddenly as happy as I had been when he had first asked me to marry him and marriage seemed to me to be the most romantic adventure in the world. I was almost blithe as I was conducted through the house. I was shown bedrooms so numerous that I lost count of them. Many of them were named after the colors predominating in them-the Scarlet Room, the Blue Room, the Gold Room, the Silver Room, the Gray Room, and so on. Then there were the Paneled Room and the Tapestry Room and the Pages’ Room where china of all kinds was kept.

There was one door which Richard passed by and I asked what it was.

“Oh, just like all the others,” he said. “There is really nothing special about it.” He opened the door. It seemed to me that he did so almost reluctantly, and because of that I felt a great urge to see what the room contained. He was right, there was nothing special about it. It contained a table and a few chairs and a very large court cupboard with linenfold sides. “What do you call this room?” I asked.

“I think it has been known as the Castle Room.”

“Oh, I see why. You get a good view of the Folly here.”