"There is really no reason why we should not admit you to the vault," he remarked. "Better one of the family than an outsider. And you are one of us now," he added with a sigh, as though the fact were much to be regretted. "You shall be one of the privileged four, if you desire it. When would you like to pay your first visit?"
"Why not now?" she asked impulsively, rising from her seat as she spoke.
"Humph!" replied the earl, thoughtfully. "Suppose we say to-night. The late hour will enable us the better to escape the prying eyes of the servants. You consent? Good! Then we will meet in this dining-hall a little before twelve to-night. But—not a whisper of this to any one. Let the matter be kept secret."
Lorelie rose and sought the retirement of her own room, not without wonder that the earl should accept her strange proposal almost as soon as he heard it. Then, as she recalled the curious look he had cast at Ivar, together with his injunction to observe secrecy respecting the intended visit, there swept over her a sudden wave of cold feeling induced by a thought so dreadful that she could scarcely bring herself to entertain it. But the idea would persist in stamping itself in letters of fire upon her mind.
"I know he hates me!" she gasped. "I saw that in his eyes when he first heard my name. I know he hates me, but—my God! to such an extent as that! Is he afraid that the daughter will seek to avenge her father? And will he get Ivar to consent?"
While she was occupied with these terrible misgivings her husband came slouching in. He seated himself on a chair and regarded her for a moment with a strange expression that set her trembling.
"So you've quite made up your mind to visit the vault?"
She assented with a nod, not daring to trust herself to speak. Her heart was beating like a steam-hammer; faint murmurs were ringing in her ears; she seemed to see Ivar as through a mist.
"Bah! you lack the courage. You will be crying off from the venture before the night comes."