opics. Whenever I and Seraphina began to get
too absorbed in sentimental dreams and vague aspirations, the Lady
Adelheid, though now hardly young enough to be so naive and droll as
she once was, yet intervened with all sorts of merry and somewhat
chaotic nonsense. From several hints she let fall, I soon discovered
that the Baroness really had something preying upon her mind, even as I
thought I had read in her eyes the very first moment I saw her; and I
clearly discerned the hostile influence of the apparition of the
castle. Something terrible had happened or was to happen. Although I
was often strongly impelled to tell Seraphina in what way I had come in
contact with the invisible enemy, and how my old uncle had banished
him, undoubtedly for ever, I yet felt my tongue fettered by a
hesitation which was inexplicable to myself even, whenever I opened my
mouth to speak.

One day the Baroness failed to appear at the dinner table; it was said
that she was a little unwell, and could not leave her room. Sympathetic
inquiries were addressed to the Baron as to whether her illness was of
a grave nature. He smiled in a very disagreeable way, in fact, it was
almost like bitter irony, and said, "Nothing more than a slight
catarrh, which she has got from our blustering sea-breezes. They can't
tolerate any sweet voices; the only sounds they will endure are the
hoarse 'Halloos' of the chase." At these words the Baron hurled a keen
searching look at me across the table, for I sat obliquely opposite to
him. He had not spoken to his neighbour, but to me. Lady Adelheid, who
sat beside me, blushed a scarlet red. Fixing her eyes upon the plate in
front of her, and scribbling about on it with her fork, she whispered,
"And yet you must see Seraphina to-day; your sweet songs shall to-day
also bring soothing and comfort to her poor heart." Adelheid addressed
these words to me; but at this moment it struck me that I was almost
apparently entangled in a base and forbidden intrigue with the
Baroness, which could only end in some terrible crime. My old uncle's
warning fell heavily upon my heart. What should I do? Not see her
again? That was impossible so long as I remained in the castle; and
even if I might leave the castle and return to K----, I had not the
will to do it Oh! I felt only too deeply that I was not strong enough
to shake myself out of this dream, which was mocking one with delusive
hopes of happiness. Adelheid I almost regarded in th