to say my prayers, and often I
would be in dreamland long before I got to the 'Amen.' And if by any
chance I awoke in the night and heard the clock strike, I would beg of
it not to hurry along the hours so fast--I did not want morning to come
so soon! But now that I have to sleep with locked doors, I lie awake
often until midnight--terrified by I know not what. I dread to be so
entirely alone when everything is so quiet; and when it is dark I feel
as if some one were stealthily creeping about my room. When I hear a
noise I wonder what it can be, and my heart beats so rapidly! Then I
draw the covers over my head to shut out all sound, and if I fall asleep
thus I have such disagreeable dreams that I am glad when I waken again."

Count Vavel gently took the young girl's hand in his.

"Suppose I could restore to thee thy former sweet slumber, Marie?
Suppose I take up my old quarters on the lounge by the door?"

The young girl gazed into his eyes as if she would penetrate his very
soul. Then she said sorrowfully: "No, dear Ludwig; that would not
restore my slumber."

"Then suppose I have thought of something that will? Come with me, and
see."

She laid her hand on his arm, and went with him to her room.

Ludwig conducted her into the alcove, and stepped outside.

"Draw the cord which hangs at the head of the bed," he said, smiling at
her wondering face.

Marie did as he bade her, and the metal screen unrolled, and was caught
in the springs in the floor.

"Oh, how wonderful!" she exclaimed in amazement. "I am a prisoner in my
own alcove."

"Only so long as you care to remain in your prison," returned Count
Vavel. "No one can lift the screen from this side; but if you will press
your foot on the little brass button in the floor at the foot of the
column to your left, you will be at liberty again."

The next instant Master Matyas's handiwork was rolled up to the ceiling.

Marie was filled with delight and astonishment.

"There is another work of art connected with this wonderful mechanism,"
said the count, after Marie had rolled and unrolled the screen several
times. "The cord which releases the screen rings a bell in my room. When
I hear the bell I shall know that you have retired; then I shall bring
my books and papers into your room out yonder, and continue my work
there. Only enough light will penetrate the screen to the alcove to
prevent utter darkness. You will not need to be afraid hereafter, and
perhaps