The apartment, then, was spacious and handsomely furnished in the heavy taste of the period, with but little to distinguish it from other rooms visited by us in the course of this story.  Like most of them, it had a gloomy air, caused by the dark hue of its oaken panels, and the heavy folds of its antiquated and faded tapestry.  The latter was chiefly hung against the lower end of the chamber, and served as a screen to one of the doors.  At the opposite end, there was a wide and deep bay window, glowing with stained glass, amid the emblazonry of which might be discerned the proud escutcheon of the house of Exeter, with the two lions rampant forming its supporters.  On the right of the enormous carved mantel-piece, which, with its pillars, statues, ’scutcheons, and massive cornice, mounted to the very ceiling, was hung a portrait of the Earl of Exeter—­a grave, dignified personage, clad in the attire of Elizabeth’s time; and on the left, was a likeness of the Countess herself, painted in all the pride of her unequalled beauty, and marvellous in resemblance then; but how different in expression from her features now!

In the recess of the window stood an oak table, covered with a piece of rich carpet fringed with gold, on which a massive silver inkstand and materials for writing were placed; and this table was seized upon by Lady Lake as a feature in her plot.  Here she would have it the confession was signed by the Countess.

Another point in reference to this scheme must not be passed unnoticed.  We have mentioned the heavy hangings at the lower end of the room.  According to the plotter, it was behind these that Sarah Swarton—­the intended witness of the imaginary scene—­was concealed.  The principal subjects represented on the arras were the Judgment of Solomon, and the Temptation of our first Parents in the Garden by the Serpent.  The hangings had evidently not been removed for years, and did not reach within two feet of the ground—­a circumstance that had escaped the attention of Lady Lake—­proving the truth of her husband’s observation, that in the best contrived plot some imperfection will exist certain to operate in its detection.

To return to the unhappy Countess.  So lost was she in reflection, that she did not remark Lord Roos’s return till made aware of it by a slight touch on the shoulder.  When she raised her eyes, they fell upon an object that inspired her with the dread and aversion that a noxious reptile might have produced.  She had never seen Luke Hatton before; and if she had figured him to her mind at all, it was not as anything agreeable; but she was not prepared for so hideous and revolting a personage as he appeared to be.  His face was like an ugly mask, on which a sardonic grin was stamped.  His features were large and gaunt, and he had the long, hooked nose, and the sharp-pointed bestial ears of a satyr, with leering eyes—­betokening at once sensuality and cunning.  He had the chin and beard of a goat, and crisply-curled hair of a pale