In any case , he preferred her unsmiling dourness to vulgar garrulity . He lifted his hat . `` Have I the honour of speaking to Miss Gordon ? '' he asked . `` I am Janet Gordon , '' said the woman stiffly . `` Then I wish to talk with you and your brother . '' `` Come in . '' She stepped aside and motioned him to a low brown door opening on the right . `` Go in and sit down . I 'll call Thomas , '' she said coldly , as she walked out through the hall . Eric walked into the parlour and sat down as bidden . He found himself in the most old-fashioned room he had ever seen . The solidly made chairs and tables , of some wood grown dark and polished with age , made even Mrs. Williamson 's `` parlour set '' of horsehair seem extravagantly modern by contrast . The painted floor was covered with round braided rugs . On the centre table was a lamp , a Bible and some theological volumes contemporary with the square-runged furniture . The walls , wainscoted half way up in wood and covered for the rest with a dark , diamond - patterned paper , were hung with faded engravings , mostly of clerical-looking , bewigged personages in gowns and bands . But over the high , undecorated black mantel-piece , in a ruddy glow of sunset light striking through the window , hung one which caught and held Eric 's attention to the exclusion of everything else . It was the enlarged `` crayon '' photograph of a young girl , and , in spite of the crudity of execution , it was easily the center of interest in the room . Eric at once guessed that this must be the picture of Margaret Gordon , for , although quite unlike Kilmeny 's sensitive , spirited face in general , there was a subtle , unmistakable resemblance about brow and chin . The pictured face was a very handsome one , suggestive of velvety dark eyes and vivid colouring ; but it was its expression rather than its beauty which fascinated Eric .
Never had he seen a countenance indicative XXXXX more intense and stubborn will power .
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