the air of night. There
seemed to be no small stir in the castle, as though a multitude had
gathered there, and had given themselves up securely to general
merriment. But all this troubled not the priest one whit, for he
calmly finished his pipe, and then, laying it down, he disposed his
limbs in a comfortable position, still keeping a sitting posture, and
in this attitude he fell asleep and slept the sleep of the just.

Very early on the following morning our good priest opened his eyes,
and the first object that they rested upon was the lady, who stood
there full before him, and greeted him with a gentle smile.

The priest had not seen her very well on the previous evening, and
now as he saw her face in full daylight, it seemed different from
that which had met his view under the moonbeams. The lady was of
slender form, a trifle over the middle height, and of marked dignity
of bearing. Her face was perfectly beautiful in the outline of its
features, but this was as nothing when compared with the refined and
exquisite grace, the perfect breeding, the quick intelligence, and
the womanly tenderness that were all expressed in those noble
lineaments. It was a face full of calm self-possession, and gave
indications of a great and gracious nature, which could be at once
loving and brave, and tender and true. Her hair, which was very
luxuriant, was closely bound up in dark auburn masses; her lips were
full of sweet sensitiveness; and thus she stood looking at him with
dark hazel eyes that seemed to glow with feeling and intelligence,
till the good priest thought that never in all his life had he seen
anything half so fair. In fact, so overcome was he that he sat
staring at her for some time without one word, and without giving any
response whatever to the pleasant words of greeting which she spoke.

"I'm very sorry indeed," said she, as the priest still stared in
silence at her, "that I was such a trouble to you, after all
your--your kindness; but the fact is, I was so wretchedly fatigued
that I was scarcely responsible for my actions. It was too selfish in
me; but now I mean to make amends, and help you in every possible
way. Would you like me to do anything? Sha'n't I get breakfast?"

She spoke these words with a smile, in which, however, there was not
a little sadness. There was nothing in the words themselves beyond
that painful consideration for others and forgetfulness of self which
the priest had observed in her th