she smiled her cheeks looked fresh and smooth as two ruddy little
apples.

"Look out, I say," and she nodded towards the window, deep set in the
thick wall. "See how bright and soft everything looks in that pleasant
light; _that's_ better, child, than the finest picture man's hand ever
painted yet, and God gives it us for nothing; and how pretty Snakes
Island glows up in that light!"

The dejected man, hardly raising his head, followed with his eyes the
glance of the old woman, and looked mournfully through the window.

"That island troubles me, Mrs. Julaper."

"Everything troubles you, my poor goose-cap. I'll pull your lug for ye,
child, if ye be so dowly;" and with a mimic pluck the good-natured old
housekeeper pinched his ear and laughed.

"I'll go to the still-room now, where the water's boiling, and I'll make
a cup of tea; and if I find ye so dow when I come back, I'll throw it
all out o' the window, mind."

It was indeed a beautiful picture that Feltram saw in its deep frame of
old masonry. The near part of the lake was flushed all over with the low
western light; the more distant waters lay dark in the shadow of the
mountains; and against this shadow of purple the rocks on Snakes Island,
illuminated by the setting sun, started into sharp clear yellow.

But this beautiful view had no charm--at least, none powerful enough to
master the latent horror associated with its prettiest feature--for the