Beechcroft at Rockstone by Charlotte M. Yonge, Fiction

When Gillian directed her attention to the case of clasps and medals and the photograph of the fine-looking officer, she could only sigh out, "Oh, my dear!" There was a certain air of taste in the arrangement of the few chimneypiece ornaments, and Gillian was pleased to see the two large photographs of her father and mother which Captain White had so much valued as parting gifts. A few drawings reminded her of the School of Art at Belfast, and there was a vase of wild flowers and ferns prettily arranged, but otherwise everything was wretchedly faded and dreary. Then came the opening of the door, and into the room rolled, rather than advanced, something of stupendous breadth, which almost took Gillian's breath away, as she durst not look to see the effect on her aunt. If the Queen of the White Ants had been stout before, what was she now?