so?"

"Your glance is your surety," was the response he made. "That and
your honest hand, which does not lightly fall in that of a
stranger." And with a real smile now, though it was by no means the
reassuring and perhaps attractive one he doubtless meant it to be,
he fixed me with his subtle glance, in which I began to read a
meaning, if not a purpose, that made the blood leap indignantly to
my heart, and caused me to feel as if I had somehow stumbled into a
snare from which it would take more than ordinary skill and patience
to escape.

A look down the shadowy room restored my equanimity, however. It was
all so unreal, so ghostly, I could not help acknowledging to myself
that I was moving in a dream which exaggerated every impression I
received, even that which might be given by the bold gaze of an
unscrupulous man. So I determined not to believe in it, or in any
thing else I should see that night, unless it were in the stern soul
of the woman who had just died; a qualification which my mind could
not help making to itself as my eyes fell again upon her portrait,
with its cruel, unrelenting expression.

"You do not feel at home!" exclaimed Guy, interpreting according to
his needs my silence and the look I had thrown about me. "I do not
wonder," he pursued. "Dreariness like this has little to do with
youth and beauty. But I hope"--here he took a step nearer, while
that meaning look--oh, my God! was I deceiving myself?--deepened in
his eyes--"I hope the day will come when you will see the sunshine
stream through the gloom of these dim recesses, and in the new cheer
infused into the life of this old mansion forget the scenes of