t of yours would not be
here. I shall not bring her gray hairs down with sorrow to the grave. I
shall speak of this villany to but one person; and to him I shall talk
with this, and not with the idle tongue." And he tapped his sword-hilt
with a sombre look of terrible significance.

He carried out the cradle. The child slept sweetly through it all.

Rose darted into Josephine's room, took the key from the inside to the
outside, locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and ran down to her
mother's room; her knees trembled under her as she went.

Meantime, Jacintha, sleeping tranquilly, suddenly felt her throat
griped, and heard a loud voice ring in her ear; then she was lifted, and
wrenched, and dropped. She found herself lying clear of the steps in the
moonlight; her head was where her feet had been, and her candle out.

She uttered shriek upon shriek, and was too frightened to get up. She
thought it was supernatural; some old De Beaurepaire had served her thus
for sleeping on her post. A struggle took place between her fidelity and
her superstitious fears. Fidelity conquered. Quaking in every limb, she
groped up the staircase for her candle.

It was gone.

Then a still more sickening fear came over her.

What if this was no spirit's work, but a human arm--a strong one--some
man's arm?

Her first impulse was to dart up the stairs, and make sure that no
calamity had befallen through her mistimed drowsiness. But, when she
came to try, her dread of the supernatural revived. She could not
venture without a light up those stairs, thronged perhaps with angry
spirits. She ran to the kitchen. She found the tinderbox, and with
trembling hands struck a light. She came back shading it with her shaky
hands; and, committing her soul to the care of Heaven, she crept quaking
up the stairs. Then she heard voices above, and that restored her more;
she mounted more steadily. Presently she stopped, for a heavy step was
coming down. It did not sound like a woman's step. It came further down;
she turned to fly.

"Jacintha!" said a deep voice, that in this stone cylinder rang like
thunder from a tomb.

"Oh! saints and angels save me!" yelled Jacintha; and fell on her knees,
and hid her head for security; and down went her candlestick clattering
on the stone.

"Don't be a fool!" said the iron voice. "Get up and take this."

She raised her head by slow degrees, shuddering. A man was holding out a
cradle to her; the candle he