ugh kept his word, and Alicia was no more wife to him,
save only in name. Yet of gossip or scandal there was none, for the
pride of his race kept secret his dishonour, nor did he ever seem
other than a courteous and respectful husband.

Nor did Mrs. Montressor and my aunts, though they wondered much among
themselves, learn aught, for they dared question neither their brother
nor Alicia, who carried herself as loftily as ever, and seemed to pine
for neither lover nor husband. As for me, no one dreamed I knew aught
of it, and I kept my own counsel as to what I had seen in the blue
parlour on the night of the Christmas ball.

After the New Year I went home, but ere long Mrs. Montressor sent for
me again, saying that the house was lonely without little Beatrice. So
I went again and found all unchanged, though the Place was very quiet,
and Alicia went out but little from the Red Room.

Of my Uncle Hugh I saw little, save when he went and came on the
business of his estate, somewhat more gravely and silently than of
yore, or brought to me books and sweetmeats from town.

But every day I was with Alicia in the Red Room, where she would talk
to me, oftentimes wildly and strangely, but always kindly. And though
I think Mrs. Montressor liked our intimacy none too well, she said no
word, and I came and went as I listed with Alicia, though never quite
liking her strange ways and the restless fire in her eyes.

Nor would I ever kiss her, after I had seen her lips pressed by the
snake's, though she sometimes coaxed me, and grew pettish and vexed
when I would not; but she guessed not my reason.

March came in that year like a lion, exceedingly hungry and fierce,
and my Uncle Hugh had ridden away through the storm nor thought to be
back for some days.

In the afternoon I was sitting in the wing hall, dreaming wondrous
day-dreams, when Alicia called me to the Red Room. And as I went, I
marvelled anew at her loveliness, for the blood was leaping in her
face and her jewels were dim before the lustre of her eyes. Her hand,
when she took mine, was burning hot, and her voice had a strange ring.

"Come, little Beatrice," she said, "come talk to me, for I know not
what to do with my lone self today. Time hangs heavily in this gloomy
house. I do verily think this Red Room has an evil influence over me.
See if your childish prattle can drive away the ghosts that riot in
these dark old corners--ghosts of a ruined and shamed life! Nay,
sh