The speaker paused in the center of the apartment, and gazed curiously at the figure seated before the old trunk.  Involuntarily Beulah raised her eyes, and met the searching look fixed upon her.  The intruder was richly dressed, and her very posture bespoke the lawless independence of a willful, petted child.  The figure was faultlessly symmetrical, and her face radiantly beautiful.  The features were clearly cut and regular, the eyes of deep, dark violet hue, shaded by curling brown lashes.  Her chestnut hair was thrown back with a silver comb, and fell in thick curls below the waist; her complexion was of alabaster clearness, and cheeks and lips wore the coral bloom of health.  As they confronted each other one looked a Hebe, the other a ghostly visitant from spirit realms.  Beulah shrank from the eager scrutiny, and put up her hands to shield her face.  The other advanced a few steps, and stood beside her.  The expression of curiosity faded, and something like compassion swept over the stranger’s features, as she noted the thin, drooping form of the invalid.  Her lips parted, and she put out her hand, as if to address Beulah, when Mrs. Chilton exclaimed impatiently: 

“Pauline, come down this instant!  Your uncle positively forbade your entering this room until he gave you permission.  There is his buggy this minute!  Come out, I say!” She laid her hand in no gentle manner on her daughter’s arm.

“Oh, sink the buggy!  What do I care if he does catch me here?  I shall stay till I make up my mind whether that little thing is a ghost or not.  So, mother, let me alone.”  She shook off the clasping hand that sought to drag her away, and again fixed her attention on Beulah.

“Willful girl! you will ruin everything yet.  Pauline, follow me instantly, I command you!” She was white with rage, but the daughter gave no intimation of having heard the words; and, throwing her arm about the girl’s waist, Mrs. Chilton dragged her to the door.  There was a brief struggle at the threshold, and then both stood quiet before the master of the house.

“What is all this confusion about?  I ordered this portion of the house kept silent, did I not?”

“Yes, Guy; and I hope you will forgive Pauline’s thoughtlessness.  She blundered in here, and I have just been scolding her for disobeying your injunctions.”

“Uncle Guy, it was not thoughtlessness, at all; I came on purpose.  For a week I have been nearly dying with curiosity to see that little skeleton you have shut up here, and I ran up to get a glimpse of her.  I don’t see the harm of it; I haven’t hurt her.”  Pauline looked fearlessly up in her uncle’s face, and planted herself firmly in the door, as if resolved not to be ejected.

“Does this house belong to you or to me, Pauline?”

“To you, now; to me, some of these days, when you give it to me for a bridal present.”

His brow cleared, he looked kindly down into the frank, truthful countenance, and said, with a half-smile: