, and will let the lady of Beaumanoir
die!"

There was a winding stair of stone, narrow and tortuous, in one corner
of the tower. It led upwards to the roof and downwards to a deep vault
which was arched and groined. Its heavy, rough columns supported the
tower above, and divided the vaults beneath. These vaults had formerly
served as magazines for provisions and stores for the use of the
occupants of the Chateau upon occasions when they had to retire for
safety from a sudden irruption of Iroquois.

La Corriveau, after a short rest, got up with a quick, impatient
movement. She went over to an arched doorway upon which her eyes had
been fixed for several minutes. "The way is down there," she muttered;
"now for a light!"

She found the entrance to the stair open; she passed in, closing the
door behind her so that the glimmer might not be seen by any chance
stroller, and struck a light. The reputation which the tower had of
being haunted made the servants very shy of entering it, even in the
day-time; and the man was considered bold indeed who came near it after
dark.

With her candle in her hand, La Corriveau descended slowly into the
gloomy vault. It was a large cavern of stone, a very habitation of
darkness, which seemed to swallow up the feeble light she carried. It
was divided into three portions, separated by rough columns.

A spring of water trickled in and trickled out of a great stone trough,
ever full and overflowing with a soft, tinkling sound, like a clepsydra
measuring the movements of eternity. The cool, fresh, living water
diffused throughout the vaults an even, mild temperature the year round.
The gardeners of the Chateau took advantage of this, and used the vault
as a favorite storeroom for their crops of fruit and vegetables for
winter use in the Chateau.

La Corriveau went resolutely forward, as one who knew what she
sought and where to find it, and presently stood in front of a recess
containing a wooden panel similar to that in the Chateau, and movable
in the same manner. She considered it for some moments, muttering to
herself as she held aloft the candle to inspect it closely and find the
spring by which it was moved.

La Corriveau had been carefully instructed by Mere Malheur in every
point regarding the mechanism of this door. She had no difficulty in
finding the secret of its working. A slight touch sufficed when the
right place was known. She pressed it hard with her hand; the panel
swu