he gallery. The whole house and all its inhabitants are under a
spell, which I will not break till you are gone."

"Martin, I trust you."

"You never said a better word. Let me take your shawl. I will shake off
the snow and dry it for you. You are cold and wet. Never mind; there is
a fire upstairs. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Follow me."

He left his shoes on the mat, mounted the stair unshod. Caroline stole
after, with noiseless step. There was a gallery, and there was a
passage; at the end of that passage Martin paused before a door and
tapped. He had to tap twice--thrice. A voice, known to one listener, at
last said, "Come in."

The boy entered briskly.

"Mr. Moore, a lady called to inquire after you. None of the women were
about. It is washing-day, and the maids are over the crown of the head
in soap-suds in the back kitchen, so I asked her to step up."

"Up here, sir?"

"Up here, sir; but if you object, she shall go down again."

"Is this a place or am I a person to bring a lady to, you absurd lad?"

"No; so I'll take her off."

"Martin, you will stay here. Who is she?"

"Your grandmother from that chateau on the Scheldt Miss Moore talks
about."

"Martin," said the softest whisper at the door, "don't be foolish."

"Is she there?" inquired Moore hastily. He had caught an imperfect
sound.

"She is there, fit to faint. She is standing on the mat, shocked at your
want of filial affection."

"Martin, you are an evil cross between an imp and a page. What is she
like?"

"More like me than you; for she is young and beautiful."

"You are to show her forward. Do you hear?"

"Come, Miss Caroline."

"Miss Caroline!" repeated Moore.

And when Miss Caroline entered she was encountered in the middle of the
chamber by a tall, thin, wasted figure, who took both her hands.

"I give you a quarter of an hour," said Martin, as he withdrew, "no
more. Say what you have to say in that time. Till it is past I will wait
in the gallery; nothing shall approach; I'll see you safe away. Should
you persist in staying longer, I leave you to your fate."

He shut the door. In the gallery he was as elate as a king. He had never
been engaged in an adventure he liked so well, for no adventure had ever
invested him with so much importance or inspired him with so much
interest.

"You are come at last," said the meagre man, gazing on his visitress
with hollow eyes.

"Did you expect me before?"

"For a month, near two m