the bright light of which he had distinctly seen the lady. She was
gone--the gallery was empty. "You forgot to shut the lower door, and
while I turned and scolded you, the lady escaped!" he exclaimed. He
hastily rushed forward, and tried to open the door leading into the
corridor: but this was locked. The count vainly shook the lock.
"That is strange," he muttered, dropping his hand. "I know I saw her
distinctly; it is impossible that I could have been mistaken. Where
can she be? What has become of her? Where has she concealed
herself?"

"What becomes of the last sigh of a dying person, your excellency,"
asked Schluter, solemnly. "Where does the soul conceal itself after
escaping from the body?"

"Ah, nonsense!" ejaculated Count Munster. "It could not have been a
spectre. Why, it is not a spectre's hour, and, besides, I certainly
saw the lady plainly; it was a decidedly earthly figure. Her face
was pale and grave, but there was nothing spectral about it. She
wore a black veil thrown back from her face; the upper part of her
body was covered with--"

"A dark pelisse trimmed with fur," interrupted Schluter, composedly.
"Below this dark pelisse protruded a white silk dress, falling to
the ground in full folds."

"Yes, yes, that was the costume," exclaimed the count. "But how do
you know it without having seen her?"

"It is the costume of the White Lady, your excellency," said
Schluter, "and it was she who just walked through the gallery. Pray,