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gesture of dissent from the housekeeper。 “I went to the hall door；
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and told them it was the wrong day； and the wrong hour； but the
young man who was driving took off his hat in the wet； and begged
me to bring this card to you。”
“Read it； my dear Watt；” says the housekeeper。
Rosa is so shy as she gives it to him； that they drop it between
them； and almost knock their foreheads together as they pick it
up。 Rosa is shyer than before。
“Mr Guppy” is all the information the card yields。
“Guppy！” repeats Mrs Rouncewell。 “Mr Guppy！ Nonsense； I
never heard of him！”
“If you please； he told me that！” says Rosa。 “But he said that he
and the other young gentleman came from London only last night
by the mail； on business at the magistrates’ meeting ten miles off；
this morning； and that as their business was soon over； and they
had heard a great deal said of Chesney Wold； and really didn’t
know what to do with themselves； they had come through the wet
to see it。 They are lawyers。 He says he is not in Mr Tulkinghorn’s
office； but is sure he may make use of Mr Tulkinghorn’s name if
necessary。” Finding； now she leaves off； that she has been making
quite a long speech； Rosa is shyer than ever。
Now； Mr Tulkinghorn is； in a manner； part and parcel of the
place； and； besides； is supposed to have made Mrs Rouncewell’s
will。 The old lady relaxes； consents to the admission of the visitors
as a favour； and dismisses Rosa。 The grandson； however； being
smitten by a sudden wish to see the house himself； proposes to
join the party。 The grandmother； who is pleased that he should
have that interest； accompanies him—though to do him justice； he
is exceedingly unwilling to trouble her。
“Much obliged to you； ma’am！” says Mr Guppy； divesting
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himself of his wet dreadnought in the hall。 “Us London lawyers
don’t often get an out； and when we do； we like to make the most
of it； you know。”
The old housekeeper； with a gracious severity of deportment；
waves her hand towards the great staircase。 Mr Guppy and his
friend follow Rosa； Mrs Rouncewell and her grandson follow them；
a young gardener goes before to open the shutters。
As is usually the case with people who go over houses； Mr
Guppy and his friends are dead beat before they have well begun。
They struggle about in wrong places； look at wrong things； don’t
care for the right things； gape when more rooms are opened；
exhibit profound depression of spirits； and are clearly knocked up。
In each successive chamber that they enter； Mrs Rouncewell； who
is as upright as the house itself； rests apart in a window seat； or
other such nook； and listens with stately approval to Rosa’s
exposition。 Her grandson is so attentive to it； that Rosa is shyer
than ever—and prettier。 Thus they pass on from room to room；
raising the pictured Dedlocks for a few brief minutes as the young
gardener admits the light； and reconsigning them to their graves
as he shuts it out again。 It appears to the afflicted Mr Guppy and
his inconsolable friend； that there is no end to the Dedlocks； whose
family greatness seems to consist in their never having done
anything to distinguish themselves； for seven hundred years。
Even the long drawing…room of Chesney Wold cannot revive Mr
Guppy’s spirits。 He is so low that he droops on the threshold； and
has hardly strength of mind to enter。 But a portrait over the
chimney…piece； painted by the fashionable artist of the day； acts
upon him like a charm。 He recovers in a moment。 He stares at it
with uncommon interest； he seems to be fixed and fascinated by it。
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“Dear me！” says Mr Guppy。 “Who’s that？”
“The picture over the fireplace；” says Rosa； “is the portrait of
the present Lady Dedlock。 It is considered a perfect likeness； and
the best work of the master。”
“‘Blest！” says Mr Guppy； staring in a kind of dismay at his
friend； “if I can ever have seen her。 Yet I know her！ Has the
picture been engraved； miss？”
“The picture has never been engraved。 Sir Leicester has always
refused permission。”
“Well！” says Mr Guppy in a low voice； “I’ll be shot if it ain’t very
curious how well I know that picture！ So that’s Lady Dedlock； is
it！”
“The picture on the right is the present Sir Leicester Dedlock。
The picture on the left is his father； the late Sir Leicester。”
Mr Guppy has no eyes for either of these magnates。 “It’s
unaccountable to me；” he says； still staring at the portrait； “how
well I know that picture！ I’m dashed！” adds Mr Guppy looking
round； “If I don’t think I must have had a dream of that picture；
you know！”
As no one present takes any especial interest in Mr Guppy’s
dreams； the probability is not pursued。 But he still remains so
absorbed by the portrait； that he stands immoveable before it until
the young gardener has closed the shutters； when he comes out of
the room in a dazed state； that is an odd though a sufficient
substitute for interest； and follows into the succeeding rooms with
a confused stare； as if he were looking everywhere for Lady
Dedlock again。
He sees no more of her。 He sees her rooms； which are the last
shown； as being very elegant； and he looks out of the windows
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from which she looked out； not long ago； upon the weather that
bored her to death。 All things have an end—even houses that
people take infinite pains to see； and are tired of before they begin
to see them。 He has come to the end of the sight； and the fresh
village beauty to the end of her description； which is always this：
“The terrace below is much admired。 It is called； from an old
story in the family； The Ghost’s Walk？”
“No？” says Mr Guppy； greedily curious； “what’s the story；
miss？ Is it anything about a picture？”
“Pray tell us the story；” says Watt； in a half whisper。
“I don’t know it； sir。” Rosa is shyer than ever。
“It is not related to visitors； it is almost forgotten；” says the
housekeeper； advancing。 “It has never been more than a family
anecdote。”
“You’ll excuse my asking again if it has anything to do with a
picture； ma’am；” observes Mr Guppy； “bec