f a long yellow hand that
was stealthily introduced from her own chamber-door to receive it; and
Una paused in the dark recess of the door, and smiled over her shoulder
toward her sister, and then glided into her room, closing the doors.

Almost freezing with terror, Alice rose and glided after her, and stood
in her chamber, screaming----

"Una, Una, in heaven's name what troubles you?"

But Una seemed to have been sound asleep in her bed, and raised herself
with a start, and looking upon her with a peevish surprise, said----

"What does Alice seek here?"

"You were in my room, Una, dear; you seem disturbed and troubled."

"Dreams, Alice. My dreams crossing your brain; only dreams--dreams. Get
you to bed, and sleep."

And to bed she went, but _not_ to sleep. She lay awake more than an
hour; and then Una emerged once more from her room. This time she was
fully dressed, and had her cloak and thick shoes on, as their rattle on
the floor plainly discovered. She had a little bundle tied up in a
handkerchief in her hand, and her hood was drawn about her head; and
thus equipped, as it seemed, for a journey, she came and stood at the
foot of Alice's bed, and stared on her with a look so soulless and
terrible that her senses almost forsook her. Then she turned and went
back into her own chamber.

She may have returned; but Alice thought not--at least she did not see
her. But she lay in great excitement and perturbation; and was
terrified, about an hour later, by a knock at her chamber door--not that
opening into Una's room, but upon the little passage from the stone
screw staircase. She sprang from her bed; but the door was secured on
the inside, and she felt relieved. The knock was repeated, and she heard
some one laughing softly on the outside.

The morning came at last; that dreadful night was over. But Una! Where
was Una?

Alice never saw her more. On the head of her empty bed were traced in
chalk the words--Ultor De Lacy, Ultor O'Donnell. And Alice found beneath
her own pillow the little purse of embroidery she had seen in Una's
hand. It was her little parting token, and bore the simple
legend--"Una's love!"

De Lacy's rage and horror were boundless. He charged the priest, in
frantic language, with having exposed his child, by his cowardice and
neglect, to the machinations of the Fiend, and raved and blasphemed like
a man demented.

It is said that he procured a solemn exorcism to be performed, in the
hope o