I laughed at my scared sensation, and walked briskly onward. Presently I came to a clearing where the grass was mown, and there was a bench against a clump of tall laurels.
I was going towards this with the intention of resting awhile, when I stopped short. A lady was seated in the corner, in the shadow.
Good heavens! It might be Lilia! She was just the girl to wander about out of doors on a hot night. I did not know whether I was glad or sorry when the being rose and came towards me. To my amazement, I saw a very graceful woman, in a white gown of some stuff which shimmered in the moonlight. A veil of black gauze or lace was about her head and neck.
“You are not—angry?” she said in a slow way; she had a foreign accent. “Come, I must speak.”
As she said the word “must,” she actually placed her hand on my arm in the most familiar way, and half led me across the grass plat.
“We will go to the terrace and talk,” she said presently, in quite an imperious manner.
I was so numbed by surprise, that I had gone passively with her some distance along the path that led away from the house or grounds before I had made up my mind what to do. She was no ghost. As she pressed close against my arm, I felt solidity and warmth. Then it flashed across me. She was dressed in quite queenly fashion. Of course! An escaped lunatic from a well-known private asylum in the neighbourhood. I stopped, withdrew her hand gently and respectfully, and suggested that she must be very tired.
“Allow me to take you home, princess,” I said, haphazard.
I had seemingly struck the right chord.
“Do not call me that any more!” she said, passionately. “I am less than you! Far less!”