Last words of Thomas Carlyle - Warburg Institute

—WOTTON EEINFKED 57For the present our friends declined any refreshment; and after some Httle conversation, which couldnot but be general and formal, they gladly retired totheir chambers, under pretext of dressing, a processwhich, with the scanty wardrobe of travellers, was soonenough performed, but chiefly that they might havetime to consider their adventure, and collect theirthoughts, which this rencounter and its miexpectedissue had somewhat put to rout.The pealing of a gong in a little while summonedour friends to the drawing-room, from which in afew mmutes a party of some twelve persons moveddown in order to a table tastefully and plenteouslyfurnished. Sprightly conversation enlivened the repast: the company seemed singularly varied for itsnumber ; each an original in his class ; men, as itappeared generally, of intellect and education, ratherthan of special rank or breeding ;yet all animated bygood humour, and insensibly participating in thegentle influences of their hosts, whose manners indicateda refinement in every point correspondingwith the highest station. Their fair mistress—for,though elderly, she still bore traces of a singularbeauty, a woman of the stateliest yet humanest aspectpresided over them with the graceful dignity of a queen.To Wotton the sound of her voice was melody ;the fewwords she spoke were of the most polished, yet expressivesort ; her little sentences, so meekly and opportunelyuttered, stood before the mind like livingI