Then Cornelia moved across the hollow blackness of the room.  She was sunshiny no longer, but morose and stern; her eyebrows were drawn together; a secret defiance was in her tigerish eyes; her lips were set, yet seemed, ever and anon, as she turned her face aside, to tremble with a passionate yearning.  As he gazed, she disappeared, but the professor had a feeling that she was still concealed somewhere in the darkness.  And, at last, she came again—­she, or something that looked like her.  The old gentleman shivered and recoiled, as though a snow-drift had somehow blown into his warm, old heart.  Was it his daughter who looked with those unmeaning eyes, encircled with dark rings, in which life and passion burned out had left the dull ashes of remorse and hopelessness?  Where were the luminous cheeks and the queenly step of his proud and beautiful Cornelia?—­What words were those? or was it only fancy?—­Ah!—­The professor started with a sharp exclamation:  but he was alone in his dark study, and the phantom of Cornelia was gone.

He composed himself in his chair again, and, presently, a third figure grew into form and color before him.  At first, as a stately young girl, with the arched feet and hot blood of the south, and her eyes dark and soft as a Spaniard’s; but her beauty lasted but for a moment.  A withering change came over face and figure:  she was cold and hard; her youthful ardor, warmth, and freshness, had been shrivelled up or worn away.  The rich black hair grew rusty, and the dark, delicate complexion became dull and lustreless.  Nevertheless, the professor continued to look with hopeful expectation, confident that a further alteration would ensue, which, though, it would not restore the grace of youth, would give a peace and happiness yet more beautiful.  And, indeed, it seemed, for a moment, as though his expectation would be gratified.  The figure raised its head, and held forth its hands, and the professor’s bright anticipation was reflected in its eyes.  But, alas! the brightness faded almost before it could be affirmed to exist.  The hands dropped to the sides, the head was averted, and the whole form shrank back, and sank to the ground.  For the third time—­the professor’s imagination was certainly playing him strange tricks this evening—­the ghost of spoken words appeared to fall upon his ears, and sink like molten lead into his heart.  He groaned, and there was an oppression on his chest, so that he struggled for breath; but, in another moment, the crouching figure was gone, and the oppression with it; but drops of sweat stood upon the old man’s broad forehead.