“Here he is, madame,” said the officer, leaving the entrance clear, and drawing himself up in an attitude of respect and submission.

At the same time the door opened; a man appeared on the threshold.

He had no hat on, wore a sword at his side, and was crushing a handkerchief in his hand.

Milady thought she recognized this shadow in the gloom; she leaned with one hand on the arm of the chair, and protruded her head as if to meet a certainty.

Then the stranger advanced slowly, and as he advanced into the circle of light projected by the lamp, milady involuntarily drew back.

Then, when she had no longer any doubt—

“What! my brother!” cried she, at the culmination of her amazement; “is it you?”

“Yes, fair lady,” replied Lord Winter, making a bow, half courteous, half ironical; “it is I, myself.”

“Then this castle?”

“Is mine.”

“This room?”

“Is yours.”

“I am your prisoner, then?”

“Nearly so.”

“But this is a frightful abuse of power!”

“No high-sounding words. Let us sit down and talk calmly, as brother and sister ought to do.”

Then turning toward the door, and seeing that the young officer was waiting for his last orders,

“It is all right,” said he; “I thank you. Now leave us alone, Mr. Felton.”


  By PanEris using Melati.

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