hem back.

Veronica would have turned once more, to nod to the people and smile at
the poor women who pressed close upon her, but the crowd was so great
that as the foresters made way for her, she found herself driven almost
violently into her own gate, and in the rush, Elettra nearly fell to her
knees as they got in. The gate clanged behind her, and she heard the
great bolts sliding into their sockets, as it was made fast. Her men had
known well enough what to expect from the curiosity of the people. They
opened a little postern and let in the few who carried her things, and
who had been shut out with the crowd.

She drew a long breath and looked upward, before her. It was very unlike
what she had expected. She was in the dark, vaulted way, scarcely eight
feet broad, and paved with flagstones, which led up to the first small
court. The masonry was rough, enormous, damp, and blackened with
dampness and age. From the building around the little enclosure small,
dark windows looked down upon her. A narrow door was on her right. On
the left, rough stone steps led up to the keep, and to the eastern side
of the castle. The door stood open, and there was a lamp in the small
entry. Before entering, she glanced up at the lintel and saw that the
ancient arms of the Serra were roughly sculptured in the old marble, and
she knew that she was on the threshold of her home.

It was more like a gloomy dungeon than the princely castle of which she
had dreamed. That, indeed, was what it had been through many ages, and
nothing else. She wondered where the great staircase could be where the
poor ghost of Queen Joanna sat and shrieked at midnight on the twelfth
of May. It was near the day, and not being at all timid, she smiled at
the thought, as she went in. Three or four decently clad women in black
came forward into the vaulted passage, and smiled and nodded awkwardly.
They were the people Don Teodoro had engaged for her service. She had a
word for each and patted them on the shoulder, and they led the way,
two and two, carrying a light between them, for it was very dark within,
though there was still broad daylight without.

Then, all at once, she scarcely knew how, Veronica was standing upon a
little balcony. Behind her, the walls of the embrasure were fully
fifteen feet thick. Before her, under the glow of the sunset on the one
hand, and the first pale moonlight on the other, lay a great valley,
deep and long and broadening fan-like