he door leading to
the ante-room of her father's bed-chamber, and listened to hear if he
were stirring; but all within seemed as still as death. She went on and
descended the stairs and reached the library-door, just as Kitty opened
it and said:

"Miss Levison, my lord," and retired to give place to the young lady.

Miss Levison entered the library.

Lord Arondelle, in his wedding dress, stood by the central book-table. As
his costume was the regulation uniform of a gentleman's full dress, it
needs no description here. Gentlemen array themselves much in the
same style for a dinner or a ball, a wedding or a funeral--the only
difference to mark the occasion being in the color of the gloves.

Lord Arondelle advanced to meet his bride.

"My love and queen! this meeting is a grace granted me indeed! How
beautiful you are!" he exclaimed, taking both her hands and carrying them
to his lips. "But you are shivering, sweet girl! You are cold!" he added
anxiously, as he looked at her more attentively.

"I have been shivering all the morning. I sat at my open window late
last night and got a little chilled; but it is nothing," she answered,
smiling.

"You shall not do such suicidal things, when I have the charge of you, my
little lady," he said, half jestingly, half seriously, as he led her to a
sofa and seated her on it, taking his own seat by her side.

"Come, now," he gayly continued, "was that indiscreet star-gazing which
has resulted in a cold the little sin for which you wish me to give you
absolution?"

"No, my lord. My sin was an evil dream."

"A dream!"

"Ay, a dream."

"But a dream cannot be a sin!"

"Hear it, and then judge. But first--tell me--were you in the castle late
last night?" she gravely inquired.

He paused and gazed at her before he replied:

"_I_ in the castle late last night? Why, most certainly not! Why
ever should you ask me such a question, my love?"

"Because if you were not in the castle last night--"

"Well?"

"I met your 'fetch,' as the country people would call it."

"My--I beg your pardon."

"Your 'fetch,' your double, your spectre, your spirit, whatever you may
call it."

"Whatever do you mean, Salome?"

"Shall I tell you all about it?"

"Of course--yes, do."

Miss Levison began and related all the circumstances in detail of her
night visit to her father's room, and her meeting with an appearance
which she took to be that of her betrothed husband, but which, on bein