Kuntz from a town of Silesia to Prague."

"Well, Harry," said his sister-in-law, "if your object was to frighten us,
I confess that I for one was tolerably uncomfortable. But I don't know
that that is a very high aim in story-telling."

"If that were all--certainly not," replied Harry, glancing towards Adela,
who had not spoken. Nor did she speak yet. But her expression showed
plainly enough that it was not the horror of the story that had taken
chief hold of her mind. Her face was full of suppressed light, and she was
evidently satisfied--or shall I call it _gratified_?--as well as delighted
with the tale. Something or other in it had touched her not only deeply,
but nearly.

Nothing was said about another meeting--perhaps because, from Adela's
illness, the order had been interrupted, and the present had required a
special summons.

The ladies had gone up stairs to put on their bonnets. I had crossed into
the library, which was on the same floor with the drawing-room, to find
out if I was right in supposing I had seen some volumes of Henry More's
works on the shelves--certainly the colonel could never have bought them.
Our host, the curate and the schoolmaster had followed me. Harry had
remained behind in the drawing-room. Thinking of something I wanted to say
to him before he went, I left the gentlemen looking over the book-shelves,
and went to cross again to the drawing-room. But when I reached the door,
there stood at the top of the stair, Adela and Harry. She had evidently
just said something warm about the story. I could almost read what she had
said still lingering on her face, which was turned up a good deal to look
into his, so near each other were they standing. Hers had a rosy flush as