your mistress!"

"Perverse, like all the rest! Follow me!" said the housekeeper, leading
the way from the hall toward a back parlor.

CHAPTER VI.

THE INMATE OF THE HIDDEN HOUSE.

There is a light around her brow,
A holiness in those dark eyes,
That show, though wandering earthward now,
Her spirit's home is in the skies.

--Moore.

Pushing open the door, Dorcas Knight exclaimed:

"Here is a young lady, Miss Black, from Hurricane Hall, come to see
you, Miss Day."

And having made this announcement, the woman retired and shut the door
behind her.

And Capitola found herself in a large, dark, gloomy, wainscoted room,
whose tall, narrow windows afforded but little light, and whose immense
fireplace and blackened furniture seemed to belong to a past century.

The only occupant of this somber apartment was a young girl, seated in
pensive thought beside the central table. She was clothed in deep
mourning, which only served to throw into fairer relief the beauty of
her pearly skin, golden hair and violet eyes.

The vision of her mourning robes and melancholy beauty so deeply
impressed Capitola that, almost for the first time in her life, she
hesitated from a feeling of diffidence, and said gently:

"Indeed, I fear that this is an unwarranted intrusion on my part, Miss
Day."

"You are very welcome," replied the sweetest voice Capitola had ever
heard, as the young girl arose and advanced to meet her. "But you have
been exposed to the storm. Please come into my room and change your
clothes," continued the young hostess, as she took Cap's hand and led
her into an adjoining room.

The storm was still raging, but these apartments being in the central
portion of the strong old house, were but little exposed to the sight
or sound of its fury.

There was a lamp burning upon the mantelpiece, by the light of which
the young girl furnished her visitor with dry clothing and assisted her
to change, saying as she did so:

"I think we are about the same size, and that my clothes will fit you;
but I will not offer you mourning habiliments--you shall have this
lilac silk."

"I am very sorry to see you in mourning," said Capitola, earnestly.

"It is for my father," replied Clara, very softly.

As they spoke the eyes of the two young girls met. They were both good
physiognomists and intuitive judges of character. Consequently in the
full meeting of their eyes they re