The door of the barn was
open, showing a polished floor, as empty, bright, and clean as that of
a ball-room. And through the opposite door shone the last year's ricks
of corn, golden in the sun.
Now, although a farm-yard is not, either in Scotland or elsewhere, the
liveliest of places in ordinary, and still less about noon in summer,
yet there was a peculiar cause rendering this one, at this moment,
exceptionally deserted and dreary. But there were, notwithstanding, a
great many more people about the place than was usual, only they were
all gathered together in the ben-end, or best room of the house--a room
of tolerable size, with a clean boarded floor, a mahogany table, black
with age, and chairs of like material, whose wooden seats, and high,
straight backs, were more suggestive of state than repose. Every one of
these chairs was occupied by a silent man, whose gaze was either fixed
on the floor, or lost in the voids of space. Each wore a black coat,
and most of them were in black throughout. Their hard, thick, brown
hands--hands evidently unused to idleness--grasped their knees, or,
folded in each other, rested upon them. Some bottles and glasses, with
a plate of biscuits, on a table in a corner, seemed to indicate that
the meeting was not entirely for business purposes; and yet there were
no signs of any sort of enjoyment.
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