as irritably aware, and he would be glad of rest and
quiet.

It was a large, square, comfortable room in one of the wings,
overlooking a garden, which sent up a delectable blend of fragrance
and dew through the white muslin curtains at the long, broad windows,
standing open to the night. On a table, draped with the inevitable
"drawn-work" of civilization, stood a lamp of finer fashion, but no
better illuminating facilities, than the one carried off by the darky,
who had made great haste to leave the room, and who had not lifted his
eyes toward the ill-omened "ghost-seer" nor spoken a word since Gordon
had blurted out his vision on Bogue Holauba. This table also bore a tray
with crackers and sandwiches and a decanter of sherry, which genially
intimated hospitable forethought. The bed was a big four-poster, which
no be-dizenment could bring within the fashion of the day. Gordon had
a moment's poignant recoil from the darkness, the strangeness, the
recollection of the inexplicable apparition he had witnessed, as his
head sank on the pillow, embroidered after the latest fads.

He could see through the open window that the moon was down at last and
the world abandoned to gloom. He heard from out some neighboring swamp
the wild lamenting cry of the crane; and then, listen as he might, the
night had lapsed to silence, and the human hearts in this house, all
unknown to him, were as unimagined, as unrelated, as unresponsive, as
if instead of a living, breathing home he lay in some mute city of the
dead.

The next moment, as it seemed, a sky as richly azure as the boasted
heavens of Italy filled his vision as he lifted himself on his elbow.
A splendid, creamy, magnolia bloom was swaying in the breeze, almost
touching the window-sill. There was a subdued, respectful knocking at
the door, which Gordon had a vague idea that he had heard before this
morning, preceding the announcement that breakfast was waiting. Tardily
mindful of his obligations as guest, he made all the speed possible in
his toilet, and soon issued into the hall, following the sound of voices
through the open doors, which led him presently to the threshold of the
breakfast-room.

There were two ladies at the table, one of venerable aspect, with short,
white curls, held from her face by side-combs, a modish breakfast-cap,
and a morning-gown of thin gray silk. The other was young enough to
be her daughter, as indeed she was, dressed in deep mourning. Rising
inst