BOOK III: THE COMING OF THE LADY

by Bram Stoker

　　Rupert Sent Leger's Journal.April 3, 1907.I have waited till now--well into midday--before beginning to set downthe details of the strange episode of last night. I have spoken withpersons whom I know to be of normal type. I have breakfasted, as usualheartily, and have every reason to consider myself in perfect health andsanity. So that the record following may be regarded as not only true insubstance, but exact as to details. I have investigated and reported ontoo many cases for the Psychical Research Society to be ignorant of thenecessity for absolute accuracy in such matters of even the minutestdetail.Yesterday was Tuesday, the second day of April, 1907. I passed a day ofinterest, with its fair amount of work of varying kinds. Aunt Janet andI lunched together, had a stroll round the gardens after tea--especiallyexamining the site for the new Japanese garden, which we shall call"Janet's Garden." We went in mackintoshes, for the rainy season is inits full, the only sign of its not being a repetition of the Deluge beingthat breaks in the continuance are beginning. They are short at presentbut will doubtless enlarge themselves as the season comes towards an end.We dined together at seven. After dinner I had a cigar, and then joinedAunt Janet for an hour in her drawing-room. I left her at half-past ten,when I went to my own room and wrote some letters. At ten minutes pasteleven I wound my watch, so I know the time accurately. Having preparedfor bed, I drew back the heavy curtain in front of my window, which openson the marble steps into the Italian garden. I had put out my lightbefore drawing back the curtain, for I wanted to have a look at the scenebefore turning in. Aunt Janet has always had an old-fashioned idea ofthe need (or propriety, I hardly know which) of keeping windows closedand curtains drawn. I am gradually getting her to leave my room alone inthis respect, but at present the change is in its fitful stage, and ofcourse I must not hurry matters or be too persistent, as it would hurther feelings. This night was one of those under the old regime. It wasa delight to look out, for the scene was perfect of its own kind. Thelong spell of rain--the ceaseless downpour which had for the time floodedeverywhere--had passed, and water in abnormal places rather trickled thanran. We were now beginning to be in the sloppy rather than the delugedstage. There was plenty of light to see by, for the moon had begun toshow out fitfully through the masses of flying clouds. The uncertainlight made weird shadows with the shrubs and statues in the garden. Thelong straight walk which leads from the marble steps is strewn with finesand white from the quartz strand in the nook to the south of the Castle.Tall shrubs of white holly, yew, juniper, cypress, and variegated mapleand spiraea, which stood at intervals along the walk and its branches,appeared ghost-like in the fitful moonlight. The many vases and statuesand urns, always like phantoms in a half-light, were more than everweird. Last night the moonlight was unusually effective, and showed notonly the gardens down to the defending wall, but the deep gloom of thegreat forest-trees beyond; and beyond that, again, to where the mountainchain began, the forest running up their silvered slopes flamelike inform, deviated here and there by great crags and the outcropping rockysinews of the vast mountains.Whilst I was looking at this lovely prospect, I thought I saw somethingwhite flit, like a modified white flash, at odd moments from one toanother of the shrubs or statues--anything which would afford cover fromobservation. At first I was not sure whether I really saw anything ordid not. This was in itself a little disturbing to me, for I have beenso long trained to minute observation of facts surrounding me, on whichoften depend not only my own life, but the lives of others, that I havebecome accustomed to trust my eyes; and anything creating the faintestdoubt in this respect is a cause of more or less anxiety to me. Now,however, that my attention was called to myself, I looked more keenly,and in a very short time was satisfied that something wasmoving--something clad in white. It was natural enough that my thoughtsshould tend towards something uncanny--the belief that this place ishaunted, conveyed in a thousand ways of speech and inference. AuntJanet's eerie beliefs, fortified by her books on occult subjects--and oflate, in our isolation from the rest of the world, the subject of dailyconversations--helped to this end. No wonder, then, that, fully awakeand with senses all on edge, I waited for some further manifestation fromthis ghostly visitor--as in my mind I took it to be. It must surely be aghost or spiritual manifestation of some kind which moved in this silentway. In order to see and hear better, I softly moved back the foldinggrille, opened the French window, and stepped out, bare-footed andpyjama-clad as I was, on the marble terrace. How cold the wet marblewas! How heavy smelled the rain-laden garden! It was as though thenight and the damp, and even the moonlight, were drawing the aroma fromall the flowers that blossomed. The whole night seemed to exhale heavy,half-intoxicating odours! I stood at the head of the marble steps, andall immediately before me was ghostly in the extreme--the white marbleterrace and steps, the white walks of quartz-sand glistening under thefitful moonlight; the shrubs of white or pale green or yellow,--alllooking dim and ghostly in the glamorous light; the white statues andvases. And amongst them, still flitting noiselessly, that mysteriouselusive figure which I could not say was based on fact or imagination. Iheld my breath, listening intently for every sound; but sound there wasnone, save those of the night and its denizens. Owls hooted in theforest; bats, taking advantage of the cessation of the rain, flittedabout silently, like shadows in the air. But there was no more sign ofmoving ghost or phantom, or whatever I had seen might have been--if,indeed, there had been anything except imagination.So, after waiting awhile, I returned to my room, closed the window, drewthe grille across again, and dragged the heavy curtain before theopening; then, having extinguished my candles, went to bed in the dark.In a few minutes I must have been asleep."What was that?" I almost heard the words of my own thought as I sat upin bed wide awake. To memory rather than present hearing the disturbingsound had seemed like the faint tapping at the window. For some secondsI listened, mechanically but intently, with bated breath and that quickbeating of the heart which in a timorous person speaks for fear, and forexpectation in another. In the stillness the sound came again--this timea very, very faint but unmistakable tapping at the glass door.I jumped up, drew back the curtain, and for a moment stood appalled.There, outside on the balcony, in the now brilliant moonlight, stood awoman, wrapped in white grave-clothes saturated with water, which drippedon the marble floor, making a pool which trickled slowly down the wetsteps. Attitude and dress and circumstance all conveyed the idea that,though she moved and spoke, she was not quick, but dead. She was youngand very beautiful, but pale, like the grey pallor of death. Through thestill white of her face, which made her look as cold as the wet marbleshe stood on, her dark eyes seemed to gleam with a strange but enticinglustre. Even in the unsearching moonlight, which is after all ratherdeceptive than illuminative, I could not but notice one rare quality ofher eyes. Each had some quality of refraction which made it look asthough it contained a star. At every movement she made, the starsexhibited new beauties, of more rare and radiant force. She looked at meimploringly as the heavy curtain rolled back, and in eloquent gesturesimplored me to admit her. Instinctively I obeyed; I rolled back thesteel grille, and threw open the French window. I noticed that sheshivered and trembled as the glass door fell open. Indeed, she seemed soovercome with cold as to seem almost unable to move. In the sense of herhelplessness all idea of the strangeness of the situation entirelydisappeared. It was not as if my first idea of death taken from hercerements was negatived. It was simply that I did not think of it atall; I was content to accept things as they were--she was a woman, and insome dreadful trouble; that was enough.I am thus particular about my own emotions, as I may have to refer tothem again in matters of comprehension or comparison. The whole thing isso vastly strange and abnormal that the least thing may afterwards givesome guiding light or clue to something otherwise not understandable. Ihave always found that in recondite matters first impressions are of morereal value than later conclusions. We humans place far too littlereliance on instinct as against reason; and yet instinct is the greatgift of Nature to all animals for their protection and the fulfilment oftheir functions generally.When I stepped out on the balcony, not thinking of my costume, I foundthat the woman was benumbed and hardly able to move. Even when I askedher to enter, and supplemented my words with gestures in case she shouldnot understand my language, she stood stock-still, only rocking slightlyto and fro as though she had just strength enough left to balance herselfon her feet. I was afraid, from the condition in which she was, that shemight drop down dead at any moment. So I took her by the hand to leadher in. But she seemed too weak to even make the attempt. When I pulledher slightly forward, thinking to help her, she tottered, and would havefallen had I not caught her in my arms. Then, half lifting her, I movedher forwards. Her feet, relieved of her weight, now seemed able to makethe necessary effort; and so, I almost carrying her, we moved into theroom. She was at the very end of her strength; I had to lift her overthe sill. In obedience to her motion, I closed the French window andbolted it. I supposed the warmth of the room--though cool, it was warmerthan the damp air without--affected her quickly, for on the instant sheseemed to begin to recover herself. In a few seconds, as though she hadreacquired her strength, she herself pulled the heavy curtain across thewindow. This left us in darkness, through which I heard her say inEnglish:"Light. Get a light!"I found matches, and at once lit a candle. As the wick flared, she movedover to the door of the room, and tried if the lock and bolt werefastened. Satisfied as to this, she moved towards me, her wet shroudleaving a trail of moisture on the green carpet. By this time the wax ofthe candle had melted sufficiently to let me see her clearly. She wasshaking and quivering as though in an ague; she drew the wet shroudaround her piteously. Instinctively I spoke:"Can I do anything for you?"She answered, still in English, and in a voice of thrilling, almostpiercing sweetness, which seemed somehow to go straight to my heart, andaffected me strangely: "Give me warmth."I hurried to the fireplace. It was empty; there was no fire laid. Iturned to her, and said:"Wait just a few minutes here. I shall call someone, and get help--andfire."Her voice seemed to ring with intensity as she answered without a pause:"No, no! Rather would I be"--here she hesitated for an instant, but asshe caught sight of her cerements went on hurriedly--"as I am. I trustyou--not others; and you must not betray my trust." Almost instantly shefell into a frightful fit of shivering, drawing again her death-clothesclose to her, so piteously that it wrung my heart. I suppose I am apractical man. At any rate, I am accustomed to action. I took from itsplace beside my bed a thick Jaeger dressing-gown of dark brown--it was,of course, of extra length--and held it out to her as I said:"Put that on. It is the only warm thing here which would be suitable.Stay; you must remove that wet--wet"--I stumbled about for a word thatwould not be offensive--"that frock--dress--costume--whatever it is." Ipointed to where, in the corner of the room, stood a chintz-coveredfolding-screen which fences in my cold sponge bath, which is laid readyfor me overnight, as I am an early riser.She bowed gravely, and taking the dressing-gown in a long, white,finely-shaped hand, bore it behind the screen. There was a slightrustle, and then a hollow "flop" as the wet garment fell on the floor;more rustling and rubbing, and a minute later she emerged wrapped fromhead to foot in the long Jaeger garment, which trailed on the floorbehind her, though she was a tall woman. She was still shiveringpainfully, however. I took a flask of brandy and a glass from acupboard, and offered her some; but with a motion of her hand she refusedit, though she moaned grievously."Oh, I am so cold--so cold!" Her teeth were chattering. I was pained ather sad condition, and said despairingly, for I was at my wits' end toknow what to do:"Tell me anything that I can do to help you, and I will do it. I may notcall help; there is no fire--nothing to make it with; you will not takesome brandy. What on earth can I do to give you warmth?"Her answer certainly surprised me when it came, though it was practicalenough--so practical that I should not have dared to say it. She lookedme straight in the face for a few seconds before speaking. Then, with anair of girlish innocence which disarmed suspicion and convinced me atonce of her simple faith, she said in a voice that at once thrilled meand evoked all my pity:"Let me rest for a while, and cover me up with rugs. That may give mewarmth. I am dying of cold. And I have a deadly fear upon me--a deadlyfear. Sit by me, and let me hold your hand. You are big and strong, andyou look brave. It will reassure me. I am not myself a coward, butto-night fear has got me by the throat. I can hardly breathe. Do let mestay till I am warm. If you only knew what I have gone through, and haveto go through still, I am sure you would pity me and help me."To say that I was astonished would be a mild description of my feelings.I was not shocked. The life which I have led was not one which makes forprudery. To travel in strange places amongst strange peoples withstrange views of their own is to have odd experiences and peculiaradventures now and again; a man without human passions is not the typenecessary for an adventurous life, such as I myself have had. But even aman of passions and experiences can, when he respects a woman, beshocked--even prudish--where his own opinion of her is concerned. Suchmust bring to her guarding any generosity which he has, and anyself-restraint also. Even should she place herself in a doubtfulposition, her honour calls to his honour. This is a call which may notbe--must not be--unanswered. Even passion must pause for at least awhile at sound of such a trumpet-call.This woman I did respect--much respect. Her youth and beauty; hermanifest ignorance of evil; her superb disdain of convention, which couldonly come through hereditary dignity; her terrible fear andsuffering--for there must be more in her unhappy condition than meets theeye--would all demand respect, even if one did not hasten to yield it.Nevertheless, I thought it necessary to enter a protest against herembarrassing suggestion. I certainly did feel a fool when making it,also a cad. I can truly say it was made only for her good, and out ofthe best of me, such as I am. I felt impossibly awkward; and stutteredand stumbled before I spoke:"But surely--the convenances! Your being here alone at night! Mrs.Grundy--convention--the--"She interrupted me with an incomparable dignity--a dignity which had theeffect of shutting me up like a clasp-knife and making me feel a decidedinferior--and a poor show at that. There was such a gracious simplicityand honesty in it, too, such self-respecting knowledge of herself and herposition, that I could be neither angry nor hurt. I could only feelashamed of myself, and of my own littleness of mind and morals. Sheseemed in her icy coldness--now spiritual as well as bodily--like anincarnate figure of Pride as she answered:"What are convenances or conventions to me! If you only knew where Ihave come from--the existence (if it can be called so) which I havehad--the loneliness--the horror! And besides, it is for me to makeconventions, not to yield my personal freedom of action to them. Even asI am--even here and in this garb--I am above convention. Convenances donot trouble me or hamper me. That, at least, I have won by what I havegone through, even if it had never come to me through any other way. Letme stay." She said the last words, in spite of all her pride,appealingly. But still, there was a note of high pride in all this--inall she said and did, in her attitude and movement, in the tones of hervoice, in the loftiness of her carriage and the steadfast look of heropen, starlit eyes. Altogether, there was something so rarely lofty inherself and all that clad her that, face to face with it and with her, myfeeble attempt at moral precaution seemed puny, ridiculous, and out ofplace. Without a word in the doing, I took from an old chiffonier chestan armful of blankets, several of which I threw over her as she lay, forin the meantime, having replaced the coverlet, she had lain down atlength on the bed. I took a chair, and sat down beside her. When shestretched out her hand from beneath the pile of wraps, I took it in mine,saying:"Get warm and rest. Sleep if you can. You need not fear; I shall guardyou with my life."She looked at me gratefully, her starry eyes taking a new light more fullof illumination than was afforded by the wax candle, which was shadedfrom her by my body . . . She was horribly cold, and her teeth chatteredso violently that I feared lest she should have incurred some dangerousevil from her wetting and the cold that followed it. I felt, however, soawkward that I could find no words to express my fears; moreover, Ihardly dared say anything at all regarding herself after the haughty wayin which she had received my well-meant protest. Manifestly I was but toher as a sort of refuge and provider of heat, altogether impersonal, andnot to be regarded in any degree as an individual. In these humiliatingcircumstances what could I do but sit quiet--and wait developments?Little by little the fierce chattering of her teeth began to abate as thewarmth of her surroundings stole through her. I also felt, even in thisstrangely awakening position, the influence of the quiet; and sleep beganto steal over me. Several times I tried to fend it off, but, as I couldnot make any overt movement without alarming my strange and beautifulcompanion, I had to yield myself to drowsiness. I was still in such anoverwhelming stupor of surprise that I could not even think freely.There was nothing for me but to control myself and wait. Before I couldwell fix my thoughts I was asleep.I was recalled to consciousness by hearing, even through the pall ofsleep that bound me, the crowing of a cock in some of the out-offices ofthe castle. At the same instant the figure, lying deathly still but forthe gentle heaving of her bosom, began to struggle wildly. The sound hadwon through the gates of her sleep also. With a swift, gliding motionshe slipped from the bed to the floor, saying in a fierce whisper as shepulled herself up to her full height:"Let me out! I must go! I must go!"By this time I was fully awake, and the whole position of things came tome in an instant which I shall never--can never--forget: the dim light ofthe candle, now nearly burned down to the socket, all the dimmer from thefact that the first grey gleam of morning was stealing in round the edgesof the heavy curtain; the tall, slim figure in the brown dressing-gownwhose over-length trailed on the floor, the black hair showing glossy inthe light, and increasing by contrast the marble whiteness of the face,in which the black eyes sent through their stars fiery gleams. Sheappeared quite in a frenzy of haste; her eagerness was simplyirresistible.I was so stupefied with amazement, as well as with sleep, that I did notattempt to stop her, but began instinctively to help her by furtheringher wishes. As she ran behind the screen, and, as far as sound couldinform me,--began frantically to disrobe herself of the warmdressing-gown and to don again the ice-cold wet shroud, I pulled back thecurtain from the window, and drew the bolt of the glass door. As I didso she was already behind me, shivering. As I threw open the door sheglided out with a swift silent movement, but trembling in an agonizedway. As she passed me, she murmured in a low voice, which was almostlost in the chattering of her teeth:"Oh, thank you--thank you a thousand times! But I must go. I must! Imust! I shall come again, and try to show my gratitude. Do notcondemn me as ungrateful--till then." And she was gone.I watched her pass the length of the white path, flitting from shrub toshrub or statue as she had come. In the cold grey light of theundeveloped dawn she seemed even more ghostly than she had done in theblack shadow of the night.When she disappeared from sight in the shadow of the wood, I stood on theterrace for a long time watching, in case I should be afforded anotherglimpse of her, for there was now no doubt in my mind that she had for mesome strange attraction. I felt even then that the look in thoseglorious starry eyes would be with me always so long as I might live.There was some fascination which went deeper than my eyes or my flesh ormy heart--down deep into the very depths of my soul. My mind was all ina whirl, so that I could hardly think coherently. It all was like adream; the reality seemed far away. It was not possible to doubt thatthe phantom figure which had been so close to me during the dark hours ofthe night was actual flesh and blood. Yet she was so cold, so cold!Altogether I could not fix my mind to either proposition: that it was aliving woman who had held my hand, or a dead body reanimated for the timeor the occasion in some strange manner.The difficulty was too great for me to make up my mind upon it, even hadI wanted to. But, in any case, I did not want to. This would, no doubt,come in time. But till then I wished to dream on, as anyone does in adream which can still be blissful though there be pauses of pain, orghastliness, or doubt, or terror.So I closed the window and drew the curtain again, feeling for the firsttime the cold in which I had stood on the wet marble floor of the terracewhen my bare feet began to get warm on the soft carpet. To get rid ofthe chill feeling I got into the bed on which she had lain, and as thewarmth restored me tried to think coherently. For a short while I wasgoing over the facts of the night--or what seemed as facts to myremembrance. But as I continued to think, the possibilities of anyresult seemed to get less, and I found myself vainly trying to reconcilewith the logic of life the grim episode of the night. The effort provedto be too much for such concentration as was left to me; moreover,interrupted sleep was clamant, and would not be denied. What I dreamtof--if I dreamt at all--I know not. I only know that I was ready forwaking when the time came. It came with a violent knocking at my door.I sprang from bed, fully awake in a second, drew the bolt, and slippedback to bed. With a hurried "May I come in?" Aunt Janet entered. Sheseemed relieved when she saw me, and gave without my asking anexplanation of her perturbation:"Oh, laddie, I hae been so uneasy aboot ye all the nicht. I hae haddreams an' veesions an' a' sorts o' uncanny fancies. I fear that--" Shewas by now drawing back the curtain, and as her eyes took in the marks ofwet all over the floor the current of her thoughts changed:"Why, laddie, whativer hae ye been doin' wi' yer baith? Oh, the mess yehae made! 'Tis sinful to gie sic trouble an' waste . . . " And so shewent on. I was glad to hear the tirade, which was only what a goodhousewife, outraged in her sentiments of order, would have made. Ilistened in patience--with pleasure when I thought of what she would havethought (and said) had she known the real facts. I was well pleased tohave got off so easily.RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.April 10, 1907.For some days after what I call "the episode" I was in a strangecondition of mind. I did not take anyone--not even Aunt Janet--intoconfidence. Even she dear, and open-hearted and liberal-minded as sheis, might not have understood well enough to be just and tolerant; and Idid not care to hear any adverse comment on my strange visitor. SomehowI could not bear the thought of anyone finding fault with her or in her,though, strangely enough, I was eternally defending her to myself; for,despite my wishes, embarrassing thoughts would come again and again,and again in all sorts and variants of queries difficult to answer. Ifound myself defending her, sometimes as a woman hard pressed byspiritual fear and physical suffering, sometimes as not being amenable tolaws that govern the Living. Indeed, I could not make up my mind whetherI looked on her as a living human being or as one with some strangeexistence in another world, and having only a chance foothold in our own.In such doubt imagination began to work, and thoughts of evil, of danger,of doubt, even of fear, began to crowd on me with such persistence and insuch varied forms that I found my instinct of reticence growing into asettled purpose. The value of this instinctive precaution was promptlyshown by Aunt Janet's state of mind, with consequent revelation of it.She became full of gloomy prognostications and what I thought were morbidfears. For the first time in my life I discovered that Aunt Janet hadnerves! I had long had a secret belief that she was gifted, to somedegree at any rate, with Second Sight, which quality, or whatever it is,skilled in the powers if not the lore of superstition, manages to keep atstretch not only the mind of its immediate pathic, but of others relevantto it. Perhaps this natural quality had received a fresh impetus fromthe arrival of some cases of her books sent on by Sir Colin. Sheappeared to read and reread these works, which were chiefly on occultsubjects, day and night, except when she was imparting to me choiceexcerpts of the most baleful and fearsome kind. Indeed, before a weekwas over I found myself to be an expert in the history of the cult, aswell as in its manifestations, which latter I had been versed in for agood many years.The result of all this was that it set me brooding. Such, at least, Igathered was the fact when Aunt Janet took me to task for it. She alwaysspeaks out according to her convictions, so that her thinking I broodedwas to me a proof that I did; and after a personal examination Icame--reluctantly--to the conclusion that she was right, so far, at anyrate, as my outer conduct was concerned. The state of mind I was in,however, kept me from making any acknowledgment of it--the real cause ofmy keeping so much to myself and of being so distrait. And so I wenton, torturing myself as before with introspective questioning; and she,with her mind set on my actions, and endeavouring to find a cause forthem, continued and expounded her beliefs and fears.Her nightly chats with me when we were alone after dinner--for I had cometo avoid her questioning at other times--kept my imagination at highpressure. Despite myself, I could not but find new cause for concern inthe perennial founts of her superstition. I had thought, years ago, thatI had then sounded the depths of this branch of psychicism; but this newphase of thought, founded on the really deep hold which the existence ofmy beautiful visitor and her sad and dreadful circumstances had takenupon me, brought me a new concern in the matter of self-importance. Icame to think that I must reconstruct my self-values, and begin a freshunderstanding of ethical beliefs. Do what I would, my mind would keepturning on the uncanny subjects brought before it. I began to apply themone by one to my own late experience, and unconsciously to try to fitthem in turn to the present case.The effect of this brooding was that I was, despite my own will, struckby the similarity of circumstances bearing on my visitor, and theconditions apportioned by tradition and superstition to such strangesurvivals from earlier ages as these partial existences which are ratherUndead than Living--still walking the earth, though claimed by the worldof the Dead. Amongst them are the Vampire, or the Wehr-Wolf. To thisclass also might belong in a measure the Doppelganger--one of whose dualexistences commonly belongs to the actual world around it. So, too, thedenizens of the world of Astralism. In any of these named worlds thereis a material presence--which must be created, if only for a single orperiodic purpose. It matters not whether a material presence alreadycreated can be receptive of a disembodied soul, or a soul unattached canhave a body built up for it or around it; or, again, whether the body ofa dead person can be made seeming quick through some diabolic influencemanifested in the present, or an inheritance or result of some balefuluse of malefic power in the past. The result is the same in each case,though the ways be widely different: a soul and a body which are not inunity but brought together for strange purposes through stranger meansand by powers still more strange.Through much thought and a process of exclusions the eerie form whichseemed to be most in correspondence with my adventure, and most suitableto my fascinating visitor, appeared to be the Vampire. Doppelganger,Astral creations, and all such-like, did not comply with the conditionsof my night experience. The Wehr-Wolf is but a variant of the Vampire,and so needed not to be classed or examined at all. Then it was that,thus focussed, the Lady of the Shroud (for so I came to hold her in mymind) began to assume a new force. Aunt Janet's library afforded meclues which I followed with avidity. In my secret heart I hated thequest, and did not wish to go on with it. But in this I was not my ownmaster. Do what I would--brush away doubts never so often, new doubtsand imaginings came in their stead. The circumstance almost repeated theparable of the Seven Devils who took the place of the exorcised one.Doubts I could stand. Imaginings I could stand. But doubts andimaginings together made a force so fell that I was driven to accept anyreading of the mystery which might presumably afford a foothold forsatisfying thought. And so I came to accept tentatively the Vampiretheory--accept it, at least, so far as to examine it as judicially as wasgiven me to do. As the days wore on, so the conviction grew. The more Iread on the subject, the more directly the evidences pointed towards thisview. The more I thought, the more obstinate became the conviction. Iransacked Aunt Janet's volumes again and again to find anything to thecontrary; but in vain. Again, no matter how obstinate were myconvictions at any given time, unsettlement came with fresh thinking overthe argument, so that I was kept in a harassing state of uncertainty.Briefly, the evidence in favour of accord between the facts of the caseand the Vampire theory were:Her coming was at night--the time the Vampire is according to the theory,free to move at will.She wore her shroud--a necessity of coming fresh from grave or tomb; forthere is nothing occult about clothing which is not subject to astral orother influences.She had to be helped into my room--in strict accordance with what onesceptical critic of occultism has called "the Vampire etiquette."She made violent haste in getting away at cock-crow.She seemed preternaturally cold; her sleep was almost abnormal inintensity, and yet the sound of the cock-crowing came through it.These things showed her to be subject to some laws, though not in exactaccord within those which govern human beings. Under the stress of suchcircumstances as she must have gone through, her vitality seemed morethan human--the quality of vitality which could outlive ordinary burial.Again, such purpose as she had shown in donning, under stress of somecompelling direction, her ice-cold wet shroud, and, wrapt in it, goingout again into the night, was hardly normal for a woman.But if so, and if she was indeed a Vampire, might not whatever it may bethat holds such beings in thrall be by some means or other exorcised? Tofind the means must be my next task. I am actually pining to see heragain. Never before have I been stirred to my depths by anyone. Come itfrom Heaven or Hell, from the Earth or the Grave, it does not matter; Ishall make it my task to win her back to life and peace. If she beindeed a Vampire, the task may be hard and long; if she be not so, and ifit be merely that circumstances have so gathered round her as to producethat impression, the task may be simpler and the result more sweet. No,not more sweet; for what can be more sweet than to restore the lost orseemingly lost soul of the woman you love! There, the truth is out atlast! I suppose that I have fallen in love with her. If so, it is toolate for me to fight against it. I can only wait with what patience Ican till I see her again. But to that end I can do nothing. I knowabsolutely nothing about her--not even her name. Patience!RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.April 16, 1907.The only relief I have had from the haunting anxiety regarding the Ladyof the Shroud has been in the troubled state of my adopted country.There has evidently been something up which I have not been allowed toknow. The mountaineers are troubled and restless; are wandering about,singly and in parties, and holding meetings in strange places. This iswhat I gather used to be in old days when intrigues were on foot withTurks, Greeks, Austrians, Italians, Russians. This concerns me vitally,for my mind has long been made up to share the fortunes of the Land ofthe Blue Mountains. For good or ill I mean to stay here: J'y suis,j'y reste. I share henceforth the lot of the Blue Mountaineers; andnot Turkey, nor Greece, nor Austria, nor Italy, nor Russia--no, notFrance nor Germany either; not man nor God nor Devil shall drive me frommy purpose. With these patriots I throw in my lot! My only difficultyseemed at first to be with the men themselves. They are so proud that atthe beginning I feared they would not even accord me the honour of beingone of them! However, things always move on somehow, no matter whatdifficulties there be at the beginning. Never mind! When one looks backat an accomplished fact the beginning is not to be seen--and if it wereit would not matter. It is not of any account, anyhow.I heard that there was going to be a great meeting near here yesterdayafternoon, and I attended it. I think it was a success. If such is anyproof, I felt elated as well as satisfied when I came away. Aunt Janet'sSecond Sight on the subject was comforting, though grim, and in a measuredisconcerting. When I was saying good-night she asked me to bend down myhead. As I did so, she laid her hands on it and passed them all over it.I heard her say to herself:"Strange! There's nothing there; yet I could have sworn I saw it!" Iasked her to explain, but she would not. For once she was a littleobstinate, and refused point blank to even talk of the subject. She wasnot worried nor unhappy; so I had no cause for concern. I said nothing,but I shall wait and see. Most mysteries become plain or disappearaltogether in time. But about the meeting--lest I forget!When I joined the mountaineers who had assembled, I really think theywere glad to see me; though some of them seemed adverse, and others didnot seem over well satisfied. However, absolute unity is very seldom tobe found. Indeed, it is almost impossible; and in a free community isnot altogether to be desired. When it is apparent, the gathering lacksthat sense of individual feeling which makes for the real consensus ofopinion--which is the real unity of purpose. The meeting was at first,therefore, a little cold and distant. But presently it began to thaw,and after some fiery harangues I was asked to speak. Happily, I hadbegun to learn the Balkan language as soon as ever Uncle Roger's wisheshad been made known to me, and as I have some facility of tongues and agreat deal of experience, I soon began to know something of it. Indeed,when I had been here a few weeks, with opportunity of speaking daily withthe people themselves, and learned to understand the intonations andvocal inflexions, I felt quite easy in speaking it. I understood everyword which had up to then been spoken at the meeting, and when I spokemyself I felt that they understood. That is an experience which everyspeaker has in a certain way and up to a certain point. He knows by somekind of instinct if his hearers are with him; if they respond, they mustcertainly have understood. Last night this was marked. I felt it everyinstant I was talking and when I came to realize that the men were instrict accord with my general views, I took them into confidence withregard to my own personal purpose. It was the beginning of a mutualtrust; so for peroration I told them that I had come to the conclusionthat what they wanted most for their own protection and the security andconsolidation of their nation was arms--arms of the very latest pattern.Here they interrupted me with wild cheers, which so strung me up that Iwent farther than I intended, and made a daring venture. "Ay," Irepeated, "the security and consolidation of your country--of ourcountry, for I have come to live amongst you. Here is my home whilst Ilive. I am with you heart and soul. I shall live with you, fightshoulder to shoulder with you, and, if need be, shall die with you!"Here the shouting was terrific, and the younger men raised their guns tofire a salute in Blue Mountain fashion. But on the instant the Vladika{1} held up his hands and motioned them to desist. In the immediatesilence he spoke, sharply at first, but later ascending to a high pitchof single-minded, lofty eloquence. His words rang in my ears long afterthe meeting was over and other thoughts had come between them and thepresent."Silence!" he thundered. "Make no echoes in the forest or through thehills at this dire time of stress and threatened danger to our land.Bethink ye of this meeting, held here and in secret, in order that nowhisper of it may be heard afar. Have ye all, brave men of the BlueMountains, come hither through the forest like shadows that some of you,thoughtless, may enlighten your enemies as to our secret purpose? Thethunder of your guns would doubtless sound well in the ears of those whowish us ill and try to work us wrong. Fellow-countrymen, know ye notthat the Turk is awake once more for our harming? The Bureau of Spieshas risen from the torpor which came on it when the purpose against ourTeuta roused our mountains to such anger that the frontiers blazed withpassion, and were swept with fire and sword. Moreover, there is atraitor somewhere in the land, or else incautious carelessness has servedthe same base purpose. Something of our needs--our doing, whose secretwe have tried to hide, has gone out. The myrmidons of the Turk are closeon our borders, and it may be that some of them have passed our guardsand are amidst us unknown. So it behoves us doubly to be discreet.Believe me that I share with you, my brothers, our love for the gallantEnglishman who has come amongst us to share our sorrows andambitions--and I trust it may be our joys. We are all united in the wishto do him honour--though not in the way by which danger might be carriedon the wings of love. My brothers, our newest brother comes to us fromthe Great Nation which amongst the nations has been our only friend, andwhich has ere now helped us in our direst need--that mighty Britain whosehand has ever been raised in the cause of freedom. We of the BlueMountains know her best as she stands with sword in hand face to facewith our foes. And this, her son and now our brother, brings further toour need the hand of a giant and the heart of a lion. Later on, whendanger does not ring us round, when silence is no longer our outer guard;we shall bid him welcome in true fashion of our land. But till then hewill believe--for he is great-hearted--that our love and thanks andwelcome are not to be measured by sound. When the time comes, then shallbe sound in his honour--not of rifles alone, but bells and cannon and themighty voice of a free people shouting as one. But now we must be wiseand silent, for the Turk is once again at our gates. Alas! the cause ofhis former coming may not be, for she whose beauty and nobility and whoseplace in our nation and in our hearts tempted him to fraud and violenceis not with us to share even our anxiety."Here his voice broke, and there arose from all a deep wailing sound,which rose and rose till the woods around us seemed broken by a mightyand long-sustained sob. The orator saw that his purpose wasaccomplished, and with a short sentence finished his harangue: "But theneed of our nation still remains!" Then, with an eloquent gesture to meto proceed, he merged in the crowd and disappeared.How could I even attempt to follow such a speaker with any hope ofsuccess? I simply told them what I had already done in the way of help,saying:"As you needed arms, I have got them. My agent sends me word through thecode between us that he has procured for me--for us--fifty thousand ofthe newest-pattern rifles, the French Ingis-Malbron, which has surpassedall others, and sufficient ammunition to last for a year of war. Thefirst section is in hand, and will soon be ready for consignment. Thereare other war materials, too, which, when they arrive, will enable everyman and woman--even the children--of our land to take a part in itsdefence should such be needed. My brothers, I am with you in all things,for good or ill!"It made me very proud to hear the mighty shout which arose. I had feltexalted before, but now this personal development almost unmanned me. Iwas glad of the long-sustained applause to recover my self-control.I was quite satisfied that the meeting did not want to hear any otherspeaker, for they began to melt away without any formal notificationhaving been given. I doubt if there will be another meeting soon again.The weather has begun to break, and we are in for another spell of rain.It is disagreeable, of course; but it has its own charm. It was during aspell of wet weather that the Lady of the Shroud came to me. Perhaps therain may bring her again. I hope so, with all my soul.RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.April 23, 1907.The rain has continued for four whole days and nights, and the low-lyingground is like a quagmire in places. In the sunlight the whole mountainsglisten with running streams and falling water. I feel a strange kind ofelation, but from no visible cause. Aunt Janet rather queered it bytelling me, as she said good-night, to be very careful of myself, as shehad seen in a dream last night a figure in a shroud. I fear she was notpleased that I did not take it with all the seriousness that she did. Iwould not wound her for the world if I could help it, but the idea of ashroud gets too near the bone to be safe, and I had to fend her off atall hazards. So when I doubted if the Fates regarded the visionaryshroud as of necessity appertaining to me, she said, in a way that was,for her, almost sharp:"Take care, laddie. 'Tis ill jesting wi' the powers o' time Unknown."Perhaps it was that her talk put the subject in my mind. The womanneeded no such aid; she was always there; but when I locked myself intomy room that night, I half expected to find her in the room. I was notsleepy, so I took a book of Aunt Janet's and began to read. The titlewas "On the Powers and Qualities of Disembodied Spirits." "Yourgrammar," said I to the author, "is hardly attractive, but I may learnsomething which might apply to her. I shall read your book." Beforesettling down to it, however, I thought I would have a look at thegarden. Since the night of the visit the garden seemed to have a newattractiveness for me: a night seldom passed without my having a lastlook at it before turning in. So I drew the great curtain and lookedout.The scene was beautiful, but almost entirely desolate. All was ghastlyin the raw, hard gleams of moonlight coming fitfully through the massesof flying cloud. The wind was rising, and the air was damp and cold. Ilooked round the room instinctively, and noticed that the fire was laidready for lighting, and that there were small-cut logs of wood piledbeside the hearth. Ever since that night I have had a fire laid ready.I was tempted to light it, but as I never have a fire unless I sleep inthe open, I hesitated to begin. I went back to the window, and, openingthe catch, stepped out on the terrace. As I looked down the white walkand let my eyes range over the expanse of the garden, where everythingglistened as the moonlight caught the wet, I half expected to see somewhite figure flitting amongst the shrubs and statues. The whole scene ofthe former visit came back to me so vividly that I could hardly believethat any time had passed since then. It was the same scene, and againlate in the evening. Life in Vissarion was primitive, and early hoursprevailed--though not so late as on that night.As I looked I thought I caught a glimpse of something white far away. Itwas only a ray of moonlight coming through the rugged edge of a cloud.But all the same it set me in a strange state of perturbation. Somehow Iseemed to lose sight of my own identity. It was as though I washypnotized by the situation or by memory, or perhaps by some occultforce. Without thinking of what I was doing, or being conscious of anyreason for it, I crossed the room and set light to the fire. Then I blewout the candle and came to the window again. I never thought it might bea foolish thing to do--to stand at a window with a light behind me inthis country, where every man carries a gun with him always. I was in myevening clothes, too, with my breast well marked by a white shirt. Iopened the window and stepped out on the terrace. There I stood for manyminutes, thinking. All the time my eyes kept ranging over the garden.Once I thought I saw a white figure moving, but it was not followed up,so, becoming conscious that it was again beginning to rain, I steppedback into the room, shut the window, and drew the curtain. Then Irealized the comforting appearance of the fire, and went over and stoodbefore it.Hark! Once more there was a gentle tapping at the window. I rushed overto it and drew the curtain.There, out on the rain-beaten terrace, stood the white shrouded figure,more desolate-appearing than ever. Ghastly pale she looked, as before,but her eyes had an eager look which was new. I took it that she wasattracted by the fire, which was by now well ablaze, and was throwing upjets of flame as the dry logs crackled. The leaping flames threw fitfullight across the room, and every gleam threw the white-clad figure intoprominence, showing the gleam of the black eyes, and fixing the starsthat lay in them.Without a word I threw open the window, and, taking the white handextended to me, drew into the room the Lady of the Shroud.As she entered and felt the warmth of the blazing fire, a glad lookspread over her face. She made a movement as if to run to it. But shedrew back an instant after, looking round with instinctive caution. Sheclosed the window and bolted it, touched the lever which spread thegrille across the opening, and pulled close the curtain behind it. Thenshe went swiftly to the door and tried if it was locked. Satisfied as tothis, she came quickly over to the fire, and, kneeling before it,stretched out her numbed hands to the blaze. Almost on the instant herwet shroud began to steam. I stood wondering. The precautions ofsecrecy in the midst of her suffering--for that she did suffer was onlytoo painfully manifest--must have presupposed some danger. Then andthere my mind was made up that there should no harm assail her that I byany means could fend off. Still, the present must be attended to;pneumonia and other ills stalked behind such a chill as must infalliblycome on her unless precautions were taken. I took again thedressing-gown which she had worn before and handed it to her, motioningas I did so towards the screen which had made a dressing-room for her onthe former occasion. To my surprise she hesitated. I waited. Shewaited, too, and then laid down the dressing-gown on the edge of thestone fender. So I spoke:"Won't you change as you did before? Your--your frock can then be dried.Do! It will be so much safer for you to be dry clad when you resume yourown dress.""How can I whilst you are here?"Her words made me stare, so different were they from her acts of theother visit. I simply bowed--speech on such a subject would be at leastinadequate--and walked over to the window. Passing behind the curtain, Iopened the window. Before stepping out on to the terrace, I looked intothe room and said:"Take your own time. There is no hurry. I dare say you will find thereall you may want. I shall remain on the terrace until you summon me."With that I went out on the terrace, drawing close the glass door behindme.I stood looking out on the dreary scene for what seemed a very shorttime, my mind in a whirl. There came a rustle from within, and I saw adark brown figure steal round the edge of the curtain. A white hand wasraised, and beckoned me to come in. I entered, bolting the window behindme. She had passed across the room, and was again kneeling before thefire with her hands outstretched. The shroud was laid in partiallyopened folds on one side of the hearth, and was steaming heavily. Ibrought over some cushions and pillows, and made a little pile of thembeside her."Sit there," I said, "and rest quietly in the heat." It may have beenthe effect of the glowing heat, but there was a rich colour in her faceas she looked at me with shining eyes. Without a word, but with acourteous little bow, she sat down at once. I put a thick rug across hershoulders, and sat down myself on a stool a couple of feet away.For fully five or six minutes we sat in silence. At last, turning herhead towards me she said in a sweet, low voice:"I had intended coming earlier on purpose to thank you for your verysweet and gracious courtesy to me, but circumstances were such that Icould not leave my--my"--she hesitated before saying--"my abode. I amnot free, as you and others are, to do what I will. My existence issadly cold and stern, and full of horrors that appal. But I do thankyou. For myself I am not sorry for the delay, for every hour shows memore clearly how good and understanding and sympathetic you have been tome. I only hope that some day you may realize how kind you have been,and how much I appreciate it.""I am only too glad to be of any service," I said, feebly I felt, as Iheld out my hand. She did not seem to see it. Her eyes were now on thefire, and a warm blush dyed forehead and cheek and neck. The reproof wasso gentle that no one could have been offended. It was evident that shewas something coy and reticent, and would not allow me to come at presentmore close to her, even to the touching of her hand. But that her heartwas not in the denial was also evident in the glance from her gloriousdark starry eyes. These glances--veritable lightning flashes comingthrough her pronounced reserve--finished entirely any wavering theremight be in my own purpose. I was aware now to the full that my heartwas quite subjugated. I knew that I was in love--veritably so much inlove as to feel that without this woman, be she what she might, by myside my future must be absolutely barren.It was presently apparent that she did not mean to stay as long on thisoccasion as on the last. When the castle clock struck midnight shesuddenly sprang to her feet with a bound, saying:"I must go! There is midnight!" I rose at once, the intensity of herspeech having instantly obliterated the sleep which, under the influenceof rest and warmth, was creeping upon me. Once more she was in a frenzyof haste, so I hurried towards the window, but as I looked back saw her,despite her haste, still standing. I motioned towards the screen, andslipping behind the curtain, opened the window and went out on theterrace. As I was disappearing behind the curtain I saw her with thetail of my eye lifting the shroud, now dry, from the hearth.She was out through the window in an incredibly short time, now clothedonce more in that dreadful wrapping. As she sped past me barefooted onthe wet, chilly marble which made her shudder, she whispered:"Thank you again. You are good to me. You can understand."Once again I stood on the terrace, saw her melt like a shadow down thesteps, and disappear behind the nearest shrub. Thence she flitted awayfrom point to point with exceeding haste. The moonlight had nowdisappeared behind heavy banks of cloud, so there was little light to seeby. I could just distinguish a pale gleam here and there as she wendedher secret way.For a long time I stood there alone thinking, as I watched the course shehad taken, and wondering where might be her ultimate destination. As shehad spoken of her "abode," I knew there was some definitive objective ofher flight.It was no use wondering. I was so entirely ignorant of her surroundingsthat I had not even a starting-place for speculation. So I went in,leaving the window open. It seemed that this being so made one barrierthe less between us. I gathered the cushions and rugs from before thefire, which was no longer leaping, but burning with a steady glow, andput them back in their places. Aunt Janet might come in the morning, asshe had done before, and I did not wish to set her thinking. She is muchtoo clever a person to have treading on the heels of amystery--especially one in which my own affections are engaged. I wonderwhat she would have said had she seen me kiss the cushion on which mybeautiful guest's head had rested?When I was in bed, and in the dark save for the fading glow of the fire,my thoughts became fixed that whether she came from Earth or Heaven orHell, my lovely visitor was already more to me than aught else in theworld. This time she had, on going, said no word of returning. I hadbeen so much taken up with her presence, and so upset by her abruptdeparture, that I had omitted to ask her. And so I am driven, as before,to accept the chance of her returning--a chance which I fear I am or maybe unable to control.Surely enough Aunt Janet did come in the morning, early. I was stillasleep when she knocked at my door. With that purely physicalsubconsciousness which comes with habit I must have realized the cause ofthe sound, for I woke fully conscious of the fact that Aunt Janet hadknocked and was waiting to come in. I jumped from bed, and back againwhen I had unlocked the door. When Aunt Janet came in she noticed thecold of the room."Save us, laddie, but ye'll get your death o' cold in this room." Then,as she looked round and noticed the ashes of the extinct fire in thegrate:"Eh, but ye're no that daft after a'; ye've had the sense to light yerfire. Glad I am that we had the fire laid and a wheen o' dry logs readyto yer hand." She evidently felt the cold air coming from the window,for she went over and drew the curtain. When she saw the open window,she raised her hands in a sort of dismay, which to me, knowing how littlebase for concern could be within her knowledge, was comic. Hurriedly sheshut the window, and then, coming close over to my bed, said:"Yon has been a fearsome nicht again, laddie, for yer poor auld aunty.""Dreaming again, Aunt Janet?" I asked--rather flippantly as it seemed tome. She shook her head:"Not so, Rupert, unless it be that the Lord gies us in dreams what we inour spiritual darkness think are veesions." I roused up at this. WhenAunt Janet calls me Rupert, as she always used to do in my dear mother'stime, things are serious with her. As I was back in childhood now,recalled by her word, I thought the best thing I could do to cheer herwould be to bring her back there too--if I could. So I patted the edgeof the bed as I used to do when I was a wee kiddie and wanted her tocomfort me, and said:"Sit down, Aunt Janet, and tell me." She yielded at once, and the lookof the happy old days grew over her face as though there had come a gleamof sunshine. She sat down, and I put out my hands as I used to do, andtook her hand between them. There was a tear in her eye as she raised myhand and kissed it as in old times. But for the infinite pathos of it,it would have been comic:Aunt Janet, old and grey-haired, but still retaining her girlish slimnessof figure, petite, dainty as a Dresden figure, her face lined with thecare of years, but softened and ennobled by the unselfishness of thoseyears, holding up my big hand, which would outweigh her whole arm;sitting dainty as a pretty old fairy beside a recumbent giant--for mybulk never seems so great as when I am near this real little good fairyof my life--seven feet beside four feet seven.So she began as of old, as though she were about to soothe a frightenedchild with a fairy tale:"'Twas a veesion, I think, though a dream it may hae been. But whicheveror whatever it was, it concerned my little boy, who has grown to be a biggiant, so much that I woke all of a tremble. Laddie dear, I thought thatI saw ye being married." This gave me an opening, though a small one,for comforting her, so I took it at once:"Why, dear, there isn't anything to alarm you in that, is there? It wasonly the other day when you spoke to me about the need of my gettingmarried, if it was only that you might have children of your boy playingaround your knees as their father used to do when he was a helpless weechild himself.""That is so, laddie," she answered gravely. "But your weddin' was noneso merry as I fain would see. True, you seemed to lo'e her wi' all yerhairt. Yer eyes shone that bright that ye might ha' set her afire, forall her black locks and her winsome face. But, laddie, that was notall--no, not though her black een, that had the licht o' all the stars o'nicht in them, shone in yours as though a hairt o' love an' passion, too,dwelt in them. I saw ye join hands, an' heard a strange voice thattalked stranger still, but I saw none ither. Your eyes an' her eyes, an'your hand an' hers, were all I saw. For all else was dim, and thedarkness was close around ye twa. And when the benison was spoken--Iknew that by the voices that sang, and by the gladness of her een, aswell as by the pride and glory of yours--the licht began to glow a weemore, an' I could see yer bride. She was in a veil o' wondrous finelace. And there were orange-flowers in her hair, though there weretwigs, too, and there was a crown o' flowers on head wi' a golden bandround it. And the heathen candles that stood on the table wi' the Bookhad some strange effect, for the reflex o' it hung in the air o'er herhead like the shadow of a crown. There was a gold ring on her finger anda silver one on yours." Here she paused and trembled, so that, hoping todispel her fears, I said, as like as I could to the way I used to when Iwas a child:"Go on, Aunt Janet."She did not seem to recognize consciously the likeness between past andpresent; but the effect was there, for she went on more like her oldself, though there was a prophetic gravity in her voice, more marked thanI had ever heard from her:"All this I've told ye was well; but, oh, laddie, there was a dreadfullack o' livin' joy such as I should expect from the woman whom my boy hadchosen for his wife--and at the marriage coupling, too! And no wonder,when all is said; for though the marriage veil o' love was fine, an' thegarland o' flowers was fresh-gathered, underneath them a' was nane itherthan a ghastly shroud. As I looked in my veesion--or maybe dream--Iexpectit to see the worms crawl round the flagstane at her feet. If'twas not Death, laddie dear, that stood by ye, it was the shadow o'Death that made the darkness round ye, that neither the light o' candlesnor the smoke o' heathen incense could pierce. Oh, laddie, laddie, waeis me that I hae seen sic a veesion--waking or sleeping, it matters not!I was sair distressed--so sair that I woke wi' a shriek on my lips andbathed in cold sweat. I would hae come doon to ye to see if you werehearty or no--or even to listen at your door for any sound o' yer beingquick, but that I feared to alarm ye till morn should come. I've countedthe hours and the minutes since midnight, when I saw the veesion, till Icame hither just the now.""Quite right, Aunt Janet," I said, "and I thank you for your kind thoughtfor me in the matter, now and always." Then I went on, for I wanted totake precautions against the possibility of her discovery of my secret.I could not bear to think that she might run my precious secret to earthin any well-meant piece of bungling. That would be to me disasterunbearable. She might frighten away altogether my beautiful visitor,even whose name or origin I did not know, and I might never see heragain:"You must never do that, Aunt Janet. You and I are too good friends tohave sense of distrust or annoyance come between us--which would surelyhappen if I had to keep thinking that you or anyone else might bewatching me."RUPERT'S JOURNAL--Continued.April 27, 1907.After a spell of loneliness which has seemed endless I have something towrite. When the void in my heart was becoming the receptacle for manydevils of suspicion and distrust I set myself a task which might, Ithought, keep my thoughts in part, at any rate, occupied--to exploreminutely the neighbourhood round the Castle. This might, I hoped, serveas an anodyne to my pain of loneliness, which grew more acute as thedays, the hours, wore on, even if it should not ultimately afford me someclue to the whereabouts of the woman whom I had now grown to love somadly.My exploration soon took a systematic form, as I intended that it shouldbe exhaustive. I would take every day a separate line of advance fromthe Castle, beginning at the south and working round by the east to thenorth. The first day only took me to the edge of the creek, which Icrossed in a boat, and landed at the base of the cliff opposite. I foundthe cliffs alone worth a visit. Here and there were openings to caveswhich I made up my mind to explore later. I managed to climb up thecliff at a spot less beetling than the rest, and continued my journey.It was, though very beautiful, not a specially interesting place. Iexplored that spoke of the wheel of which Vissarion was the hub, and gotback just in time for dinner.The next day I took a course slightly more to the eastward. I had nodifficulty in keeping a straight path, for, once I had rowed across thecreek, the old church of St. Sava rose before me in stately gloom. Thiswas the spot where many generations of the noblest of the Land of theBlue Mountains had from time immemorial been laid to rest, amongst themthe Vissarions. Again, I found the opposite cliffs pierced here andthere with caves, some with wide openings,--others the openings of whichwere partly above and partly below water. I could, however, find nomeans of climbing the cliff at this part, and had to make a long detour,following up the line of the creek till further on I found a piece ofbeach from which ascent was possible. Here I ascended, and found that Iwas on a line between the Castle and the southern side of the mountains.I saw the church of St. Sava away to my right, and not far from the edgeof the cliff. I made my way to it at once, for as yet I had never beennear it. Hitherto my excursions had been limited to the Castle and itsmany gardens and surroundings. It was of a style with which I was notfamiliar--with four wings to the points of the compass. The greatdoorway, set in a magnificent frontage of carved stone of manifestlyancient date, faced west, so that, when one entered, he went east. To mysurprise--for somehow I expected the contrary--I found the door open.Not wide open, but what is called ajar--manifestly not locked or barred,but not sufficiently open for one to look in. I entered, and afterpassing through a wide vestibule, more like a section of a corridor thanan ostensible entrance, made my way through a spacious doorway into thebody of the church. The church itself was almost circular, the openingsof the four naves being spacious enough to give the appearance of theinterior as a whole, being a huge cross. It was strangely dim, for thewindow openings were small and high-set, and were, moreover, filled withgreen or blue glass, each window having a colour to itself. The glasswas very old, being of the thirteenth or fourteenth century. Suchappointments as there were--for it had a general air of desolation--wereof great beauty and richness,--especially so to be in a place--even achurch--where the door lay open, and no one was to be seen. It wasstrangely silent even for an old church on a lonesome headland. Therereigned a dismal solemnity which seemed to chill me, accustomed as I havebeen to strange and weird places. It seemed abandoned, though it had notthat air of having been neglected which is so often to be noticed in oldchurches. There was none of the everlasting accumulation of dust whichprevails in places of higher cultivation and larger and more strenuouswork.In the church itself or its appending chambers I could find no clue orsuggestion which could guide me in any way in my search for the Lady ofthe Shroud. Monuments there were in profusion--statues, tablets, and allthe customary memorials of the dead. The families and dates representedwere simply bewildering. Often the name of Vissarion was given, and theinscription which it held I read through carefully, looking to find someenlightenment of any kind. But all in vain: there was nothing to see inthe church itself. So I determined to visit the crypt. I had no lanternor candle with me, so had to go back to the Castle to secure one.It was strange, coming in from the sunlight, here overwhelming to one sorecently accustomed to northern skies, to note the slender gleam of thelantern which I carried, and which I had lit inside the door. At myfirst entry to the church my mind had been so much taken up with thestrangeness of the place, together with the intensity of wish for somesort of clue, that I had really no opportunity of examining detail. Butnow detail became necessary, as I had to find the entrance to the crypt.My puny light could not dissipate the semi-Cimmerian gloom of the vastedifice; I had to throw the feeble gleam into one after another of thedark corners.At last I found, behind the great screen, a narrow stone staircase whichseemed to wind down into the rock. It was not in any way secret, butbeing in the narrow space behind the great screen, was not visible exceptwhen close to it. I knew I was now close to my objective, and began todescend. Accustomed though I have been to all sorts of mysteries anddangers, I felt awed and almost overwhelmed by a sense of loneliness anddesolation as I descended the ancient winding steps. These were many innumber, roughly hewn of old in the solid rock on which the church wasbuilt.I met a fresh surprise in finding that the door of the crypt was open.After all, this was different from the church-door being open; for inmany places it is a custom to allow all comers at all times to find restand comfort in the sacred place. But I did expect that at least thefinal resting-place of the historic dead would be held safe againstcasual intrusion. Even I, on a quest which was very near my heart,paused with an almost overwhelming sense of decorum before passingthrough that open door. The crypt was a huge place, strangely lofty fora vault. From its formation, however, I soon came to the conclusion thatit was originally a natural cavern altered to its present purpose by thehand of man. I could hear somewhere near the sound of running water, butI could not locate it. Now and again at irregular intervals there was aprolonged booming, which could only come from a wave breaking in aconfined place. The recollection then came to me of the proximity of thechurch to the top of the beetling cliff, and of the half-sunk cavernentrances which pierced it.With the gleam of my lamp to guide me, I went through and round the wholeplace. There were many massive tombs, mostly rough-hewn from great slabsor blocks of stone. Some of them were marble, and the cutting of all wasancient. So large and heavy were some of them that it was a wonder to mehow they could ever have been brought to this place, to which the onlyentrance was seemingly the narrow, tortuous stairway by which I had come.At last I saw near one end of the crypt a great chain hanging. Turningthe light upward, I found that it depended from a ring set over a wideopening, evidently made artificially. It must have been through thisopening that the great sarcophagi had been lowered.Directly underneath the hanging chain, which did not come closer to theground than some eight or ten feet, was a huge tomb in the shape of arectangular coffer or sarcophagus. It was open, save for a huge sheet ofthick glass which rested above it on two thick balks of dark oak, cut toexceeding smoothness, which lay across it, one at either end. On the farside from where I stood each of these was joined to another oak plank,also cut smooth, which sloped gently to the rocky floor. Should it benecessary to open the tomb, the glass could be made to slide along thesupports and descend by the sloping planks.Naturally curious to know what might be within such a strange receptacle,I raised the lantern, depressing its lens so that the light might fallwithin.Then I started back with a cry, the lantern slipping from my nervelesshand and falling with a ringing sound on the great sheet of thick glass.Within, pillowed on soft cushions, and covered with a mantle woven ofwhite natural fleece sprigged with tiny sprays of pine wrought in gold,lay the body of a woman--none other than my beautiful visitor. She wasmarble white, and her long black eyelashes lay on her white cheeks asthough she slept.Without a word or a sound, save the sounds made by my hurrying feet onthe stone flooring, I fled up the steep steps, and through the dimexpanse of the church, out into the bright sunlight. I found that I hadmechanically raised the fallen lamp, and had taken it with me in myflight.My feet naturally turned towards home. It was all instinctive. The newhorror had--for the time, at any rate--drowned my mind in its mystery,deeper than the deepest depths of thought or imagination.