out the
music of the spheres.

In the process of removing the bed, much of it crumbled to dust. The
carved tester and back were set up, the one over the great
chimney-piece in the hall, the other over that in Arctura's room. The
altar was replaced where the bed had been. The story of the finding of
the lost chapel was written by Donal, and placed by Arctura among the
records of the family.

But it soon became evident that what she had passed through had
exercised a hurtful influence on lady Arctura's health. She was almost
always happy, but her strength at times would suddenly desert her. Both
Donal and mistress Brookes regarded her with some anxiety.

Her organ, to which she gave more labour than she was quite equal to,
was now one of her main delights. Often would its chords be heard
creeping through the long ducts and passages of the castle: either for
a small instrument its tone was peculiarly penetrating, or the chapel
was the centre of the system of the house. On the roof would Donal
often sit listening to the sounds that rose through the shaft--airs and
harmonies freed by her worshipping fingers--rejoicing to think how her
spirit was following the sounds, guided by them in lovely search after
her native country.

One day she went on playing till she forgot everything but her music,
and almost unconsciously began to sing "The Lord is mindful of his
own." She was unaware that she had two listeners--one on the roof
above, one in the chapel below.

When twelve months were come and gone since his departure, the earl one
bright morning approached the door of the castle, half doubting, half
believing it his own: he was determined on dismissing the factor after
rigorous examination of his accounts; and he wanted to see Davie. He
had driven to the stables, and thence walked out on the uppermost
terrace, passing the chapel without observing its unmasked windows. The
great door was standing open: he went in, and up the stair, haunted by
sounds of music he had been hearing ever since he stepped on the
terrace.

But on the stair was a door he had never seen! Who dared make changes
in his house? The thing was bewildering! But he was accustomed to be
bewildered.

He opened the door--plainly a new one--and entered a gloomy little
passage, lighted from a small aperture unfit to be called a window. The
under side of the bare steps of a narrow stone stair were above his
head. Had he or had he not ever seen the place befor