Staring in the direction of the sound, Kate saw the pale face of a slender—half child, half maiden, glimmering across the gulf that led to the dungeon. She stood in the midst of a sepulchral light, whose faintness differed from mere obscuration, inasmuch as it told how bright it was out of doors in the sun. Annie, I say, stood in this dimness—a dusky and yet radiant creature, seeming to throw off from her a faint brown light—a lovely, earth-stained ghost.
"Oh! Annie, is that you?" said Alec.
"Ay is't, Alec," Annie answered.
"This is an old schoolfellow of mine," he said, turning to Kate, who was looking haughtily at the girl.
"Oh! is it?" said Kate, condescending.
Between the two, each looking ghostly to the other, lay a dark cavern-mouth that seemed to go down to Hades.
"Wonna ye gang doon, mem?" said Annie.
"No, thank you," answered Kate, decisively.
"Alec'll tak' guid care o' ye, mem."
"Oh! yes, I daresay; but I had rather not."