ord
Chetwynde which Gualtier had felt, and all the thoughts which then
had occurred to him now came to her, to be poured forth in
innumerable questions. Such questions he was, of course, unable to
answer. The appearance of this man upon the scene was a circumstance
which excited in Hilda's mind vague apprehensions of some unknown
danger; yet his connection with Lord Chetwynde was so inexplicable
that it was impossible to know what to think or to fear.

The discussion of this new turn in the progress of things took up
some time. Exciting as this intelligence had been to Hilda, the
conclusion of Gualtier's narrative was far more so. This was the
climax, and Gualtier, who had been weak and languid in speaking about
the other things, here rose into unusual excitement, enlarging upon
every particular in that occurrence, and introducing all those
details which his own vivid imagination had in that moment of half
delirium thrown around the figure which he had seen.

"_It_ floated before me," said he, with a shudder; "its robes were
white, and hung down as though still dripping with the water of the
sea. It moved noiselessly until it came opposite to me, and then
turned its full face toward me. The eyes were bright and luminous,
and seemed to burn into my soul. They are before me yet. Never shall
I forget the horror of that moment. When the figure passed on I fell
down senseless."

"In the name of God!" burst forth Hilda, whose eyes dilated with the
terror of that tale, while she trembled from head to foot in fearful
sympathy, "is this true? Can it be? Did you, too, see _her_?"

"Herself, and no other!" answered Gualtier, in a scarce audible
voice.

"Once before," said Hilda, "that apparition came. It was to me. You
know what the effect was. I told you. You were then very cool and
philosophical. Yon found it very easy to account for it on scientific
principles. You spoke of excitement, imagination, and diseased optic
nerves. Now, in your own case, have you been able to account for this
in the same way?"

"I have not," said Gualtier. "Such arguments to me now seem to be
nothing but words--empty words, satisfactory enough, no doubt, to
those who have never had this revelation of another world, but idle
and meaningless to those who have seen what I have seen. Why, do I
not know that she is beneath the Mediterranean, and yet did I not see
her myself? You were right, though I did not understand your
feelings, when you found