r poor, forsaken
head upon my breast. But that silent, immovable form, sitting
statue-like beside his big box, smiling, for aught I knew, but if so,
breathing out a chill that forbade all exhibition of natural feeling,
held me in check, as it held her, so that I merely inquired whether
there was anything I could do for her; and when she shook her head,
starting a tear down her cheek as she did so, I dared do nothing more
than give her one look of sympathetic understanding, and start for the
door.

A command from him stopped me.

"My wife will need a slight supper before she goes to bed," said he.
"Will you be good enough to see that one is brought?"

She roused herself up with quite a startled look of wonder.

"Why, Edwin," she began, "I never have been in the habit--"

But he hushed her at once.

"I know what is best for you," said he. "A small plate of luncheon, Mrs.
Truax; and let it be nice and inviting."

I courtesied, gave her another glance, and went out. Her countenance had
not lost its look of wonder. Was he going to be considerate, after all?

The lunch was prepared and taken to her.

Not long after this the inn quieted down, and such guests as were in the
house prepared for rest. Midnight came; all was dark in room and hall. I
was sure of this, for I went through the whole building myself, contrary
to my usual habit, which was to leave this task to my man-of-all-work,
Burritt. All was dark, all was quiet, and I was just dropping off to
sleep, when there shot up suddenly from below a shriek, which was
quickly smothered, but not so quickly that I did not recognize in it
that tone which is only given by hideous distress or mortal fear.

"It is Mrs. Urquhart!" I cried in terror, to myself; and plunging into
my clothes, I hurried down stairs.

CHAPTER II.

BURRITT.

[Illustration]

All was quiet in the halls, but as I proceeded toward their room I
perceived a figure standing near the doorway, which, in another moment,
I saw to be that of Burritt. He was trembling like a leaf, and was bent
forward, listening.

"Hush!" he whispered; "they are talking. All seems to be right. I just
heard him call her darling."

I drew the man away and took his place. Yes; they were talking in
subdued but not unkindly tones. I heard him bid her be composed, and
caught, as I thought, a light reply that ought to have satisfied me that
Mrs. Urquhart had simply suffered from some nightmare horror at which
she