“Do not let me sadden you, my darling.  I would not be a day younger.  It is well to be old.  It is well to have lived a long time in this world, for it is a good world.  But good as it is, it is but rudimentary.  It is to the human being only what the soil is to the seed—­the germinating bed; the full and perfect world is beyond.  Young Christians believe this.  Aged Christians know it.  There, brighten up!  And think that this marriage of yours and Arondelle’s if it be as true as I feel assured it is—­will be not for time only but for all eternity!  Believe this and be happier than you were ever before!  There now, my darling!  I called you in here to make my little confession.  I have received absolution.  Now go to your rest.  Good night,” said the banker, bending and kissing her forehead.

“Dear, dearest father! bless your daughter before she goes,” said Salome, in a voice thrilling with emotion, as she raised from her seat and knelt at her father’s feet.

The old man laid his hand upon her bowed head and solemnly invoked a blessing upon her.

“May the Lord look down on you, my daughter.  May He give you health and grace to bear your burdens and do your duties as wife and mother, and save and bless you and yours, now and ever more, for Christ’s dear sake.  AMEN.”

She arose in silence from her knees, put her arms around his neck, kissed him, and glided from the room.

And now a terrible and mysterious thing happened to the bride-elect.

The lights had been turned very low in the hall.  The household had all retired to rest.  The stillness and the sense of darkness awed her as she glided noiselessly along in the deep shadows.  Suddenly she saw the form of a man approaching from the direction of her own room.  He might be some belated servant on some legitimate business for one of the guests, yet he startled her.  She looked intently toward him, but in the obscure light she could only see that he was a tall man in dark clothing, and with a very white face.  She shrank back in the shadow of the wall as he swiftly and silently approached her.

Then with amazement she recognized the face and form of her betrothed husband.  But the face was deadly pale, and the form was shaking as with an ague fit.

“ARONDELLE! You here!” she exclaimed, starting towards him.

But she met only the empty air, the form had vanished.

In unbounded amazement she stared all around to see where it could have gone, and in what part of the darksome hall she herself then stood.

She found herself opposite to the entrance of a long, narrow passage opening from the hall and leading to the door of a staircase communicating with the dungeons of Malcolm’s Tower.

She looked down that passage.  It was black as the mouth of Hades!

A nameless terror seized her, and she fled precipitately down the hall, nor stopped until she had reached her own room, rushed in, and shut and bolted the door.  Then she sank down into the nearest chair, feeling cold as ice, and trembling from head to foot.