it any more, he began to think whether
it must not have come from the house. He stole down the stair--to do
what, he did not know. He could not go following an airy nothing all
over the castle: of a great part of it he as yet knew nothing! His
constructive mind had yearned after a complete idea of the building,
for it was almost a passion with him to fit the outsides and insides of
things together; but there were suites of rooms into which, except the
earl and lady Arctura were to leave home, he could not hope to enter.
It was little more than mechanically therefore that he went vaguely
after the sound; and ere he was half-way down the stair, he recognized
the hopelessness of the pursuit. He went on, however, to the
schoolroom, where tea was waiting him.

He had returned to his room, and was sitting again at work, now reading
and meditating, when, in one of the lulls of the storm, he became aware
of another sound--one most unusual to his ears, for he never required
any attendance in his room--that of steps coming up the stair--heavy
steps, not as of one on some ordinary errand. He waited listening. The
steps came nearer and nearer, and stopped at his door. A hand fumbled
about upon it, found the latch, lifted it, and entered. To Donal's
wonder--and dismay as well, it was the earl. His dismay arose from his
appearance: he was deadly pale, and his eyes more like those of a
corpse than a man among his living fellows. Donal started to his feet.

The apparition turned its head towards him; but in its look was no atom
of recognition, no acknowledgment or even perception of his presence;
the sound of his rising had had merely a half-mechanical influence upon
its brain. It turned away immediately, and went on to the window. There
it stood, much as Donal had stood a little while before--looking out,
but with the attitude of one listening rather than one trying to see.
There was indeed nothing but the blackness to be seen--and nothing to
be heard but the roaring of the wind, with the roaring of the great
billows rolled along in it. As it stood, the time to Donal seemed long:
it was but about five minutes. Was the man out of his mind, or only a
sleep-walker? How could he be asleep so early in the night?

As Donal stood doubting and wondering, once more came the musical cry
out of the darkness--and immediately from the earl a response--a soft,
low murmur, by degrees becoming audible, in the tone of one meditating
aloud, but in a