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He, too, looks at her. The same thought fills them both. As they are together there in the water, so (pray they) "may we be together in life." This hope is sweet almost to solemnity. "There are things that chill one more than water," returns he, slightly offended by her tone. "Now come and see my own room," says Mona, going up to Rodney, and, slipping her hand into his in a little trustful fashion that is one of her many, loving ways, she leads him along the hall to a door opposite the kitchen. This she opens, and with conscious pride draws him after her across its threshold. So holding him, she might at this moment have drawn him to the world's end,—wherever that may be!.

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"That is true, for a time, with some. Forever with others." Yet pretty Dorothy at her very best moments had never looked, nor ever could look, as lovely as Mona appears now, as she stands with her hands loosely clasped before her, and the divine light of pity in her eyes, that are shining softly like twin stars. "Come home," says Mona, faintly. Now the actual danger is past, terror creeps over her, rendering her a prey to imaginary sights and sounds. "There may be others. Do not delay." Tired at length, and feeling somewhat chilled, Mona rouses herself from her reverie, and, followed by her two faithful guardians, moves towards the staircase. Passing the armored men that stand in niches along the walls, a little sensation of fear, a certain belief in the uncanny, runs through her. She looks in a terrified fashion over her left shoulder, and shudders perceptibly. Do dark fiery eyes look upon her in very truth from those ghastly visors?—surely a clank of supernatural armor smote upon her ear just then!.