ia had a ride of nearly two hours before she could reach the
destination she had planned; but neither the fresh air, the beauty of the
scene, nor the exercise which she loved, could calm the fever in her
blood. It was as if some power stronger than herself pushed her on; and
though she had always been too healthy in mind and body to suffer from
superstition, she now believed, half fearfully, that such an influence
had possession of her.

"What is the matter with me?" she asked. "I am no longer myself. It is as
if I were only an instrument in hands that use me as they will. Why do I
go this morning to the Chateau de la Roche? I don't know. I don't know
what I shall say to excuse myself when I am there. Yet, somehow, the
words will come to me--I feel it."

For it was to the chateau above the Valley of the Shadow that she was
going.

When she reached the gates, half-way up the slope of the wooded hill
which the whole party had climbed together yesterday, suddenly the
nervous exaltation that had carried her courageously so far, broke like a
violin string too tightly drawn. She was horrified at her own boldness.
She half turned back; then, setting her lips together, she slipped down
from her saddle and opened the gate.

This morning no slim, black-clad figure moved among the wilderness of
neglected flowers. Virginia tethered her mare, ascended the two or three
stone steps, and struck the mailed glove of iron which formed the knocker
on the oak of the door. Its echoes went reverberating through wide, empty
spaces, and for some moments she stood trembling at her audacity. She
said to herself that she could not knock again. If no one answered the
last summons she would take it as a sign that she ought not to have
come, and she would steal away. But just as the limit of time she
mentally set had passed, and she was in the act of turning from the door,
it opened.

The servant who had guided Virginia and her friends through the house the
day before appeared, his pale, dignified old face showing such evident
signs of surprise that the American girl, who had never flinched before
any one or anything, stammered and blushed as she asked for Mademoiselle
Dalahaide.

The old man politely ushered her in, but he was unable to hide his
embarrassment. Mademoiselle should be informed at once, if she were at
home, but, in fact, it was possible---- He hesitated, and Virginia saw
well that he prepared a way of escape for his young mistre