There was no other guest except Mr. Rubrick, whose information
and discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar, harmonised very well with
that of the Baron and his guest.
Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his temperance was
not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to Rose's apartment, or, as he
termed it, her troisieme etage. Waverley was accordingly conducted
through one or two of those long awkward passages with which ancient
architects studied to puzzle the inhabitants of the houses which they
planned, at the end of which Mr. Bradwardine began to ascend, by two
steps at once, a very steep, narrow, and winding stair, leaving Mr.
Rubrick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while he should announce
their approach to his daughter.
After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew until their brains were
almost giddy, they arrived in a little matted lobby, which served as an
anteroom to Rose's sanctum sanctorum, and through which they entered her
parlour. It was a small, but pleasant apartment, opening to the south,
and hung with tapestry; adorned besides with two pictures, one of her
mother, in the dress of a shepherdess, with a bell-hoop; the other of the
Baron, in his tenth year, in a blue coat, embroidered waistcoat, laced
hat, and bag-wig, with a bow in his hand.
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