>From far away came the sound of the ghost-music. The head against
the wall began to move as if waking from sleep. The hands sank along
the wall and fell by the sides. The earl gave a deep sigh, but still
stood leaning his forehead against the wall.
Arctura turned, and they left the room.
She went down the stair, and on to the library. Its dark oak cases
and old bindings reflected hardly a ray of the poor taper she
carried; but the fire was not yet quite out. She set down the light,
and looked at Donal in silence.
"What does it all mean?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
"God knows!" she returned solemnly.
"Are we safe?" he asked. "May he not come here?"
"I do not think he will. I have seen him in many parts of the house,
but never here."
Even as she spoke the door swung noiselessly open, and the earl
entered. His face was ghastly pale; his eyes were wide open; he came
straight towards them. But he did not see them; or if he did, he saw
them but as phantoms of the dream in which he was walking--phantoms
which had not yet become active in the dream. He drew a chair to the
embers, in his fancy doubtless a great fire, sat for a moment or two
gazing into them, rose, went the whole length of the room, took down
a book, returned with it to the fire, drew towards him Arctura's
tiny taper, opened the book, and began to read in an audible murmur.
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