When she awoke she found herself shivering with cold and in total darkness. For a few moments she lay dreamily conscious that some ordeal awaited her, but unable at first to recall what it was. Then memory revived. The visit to the vault! Yes! that was it; and the thought made her pulses quicken.
She rose, procured a light, and found that it was close upon midnight.
"So late! They will begin to think that I am not coming."
Fastening the velvet bow to the neck-band of her dress she unlocked the chamber-door and walked out into the corridor. A deep silence reigned throughout the mansion, a silence that to her imagination had something awesome in it. It seemed like the prelude to a tragedy. With a firm step she descended the staircase and made her way to the dining-hall, where a murmur of voices told her that the earl and Ivar were awaiting her.
Their conversation ceased upon her entrance, and both looked up, Ivar seeming somewhat perturbed in spirit, the earl smiling and evidently pleased that she had come.
"We were just discussing the probability of your appearing," said he. "Ivar was confident that you would cry off from the business. And, certainly, a coffin-vault is not a very cheerful place."
"It is not the dead one has to fear," replied Lorelie, "but the living."
"Your wife has more courage than you gave her credit for, Ivar," remarked the earl approvingly. "If you will carry the lamp I will give her my arm."
"Thank you," replied Lorelie, declining the proffered arm, "but I can walk without aid."
They set forward from the dining-hall, the earl going first, Ivar a model of ill-grace walking beside Lorelie. He did not speak, but glanced curiously at her from time to time.