“It was late one September afternoon when they came at last in sight of the chateau, and Haverleigh pointed it out to Anna, who involuntarily exclaimed:
“‘Why, it’s more like a prison than a house: is that Chateau d’Or?’
“‘Yes, that’s Chateau d’Or,’ was the short reply, and fifteen minutes later they stopped at the little town where they were to leave the train.
“Two men were waiting for them, one the coachman, who touched his hat with the utmost deference to his master, while the other seemed on more familiar terms with Mr. Haverleigh, and stared so curiously at Anna that she drew her veil over her face, and conceived for him on the instant an aversion which she never overcame. He was a tall, dark man, with a sinister expression on his face, and a look in his keen black eyes as if he was constantly on the alert for something which it was his duty to discover. Her husband introduced him as Monsieur Brunell, explaining to her that he was his confidential agent, his head man, who superintended Chateau d’Or in his absence, and whose house was close to the bridge which crossed the river so that no one could ever leave the grounds without his knowledge.
“Anna paid little heed to what he was saying then, though it afterward came back to her with fearful significance. Now, however, she was too tired and too anxious to see the inside of the chateau to think of anything except the man’s disagreeable face, and she was glad to find herself alone with her husband in the carriage.
“‘Why does that man stare so impudently at me? I do not like it,’ she said, and Haverleigh replied, jestingly:
‘Oh, that’s the way with Frenchmen; he thinks you pretty, no doubt.’
“They had crossed the bridge by this time, and Anna noticed that they passed through a heavy iron gate, which immediately swung together with a dull thud, which involuntarily sent a shiver through her as if it really were the gate of a prison. They were now in the park and grounds, which were beautifully kept, and Anna forgot everything else in her delight at what she saw about her.
“‘Oh, I shall be so happy here!’ she cried, as they rode along the broad carriage road, and she saw everywhere signs of luxury and wealth.
“And at that moment Anna was happy. She had sighed for money, for a home handsomer than the humble red house far away among the New England hills, and lo, here was something more beautiful than anything of which she had even dreamed. If there had been anything lovable about Ernest Haverleigh, Anna might have loved him then in her great delight with the home he was bringing her to; but there was nothing in his nature answering to hers, and he did not seem to see how pleased she was, but sat back in the carriage, with a dark look on his face and a darker purpose in his heart. And still he saw her every moment, and watched the light in her eyes and the clasping of her hands as she leaned from the window; but it awoke no answering chord of gladness, unless it were a gladness that he had it in his power to avenge the insult he had received. They were close to the chateau now, directly in the shadow of the gray old walls, which looked so dark and gloomy, so out of keeping with the beauty of the grounds, that Anna’s spirits sank again, and there was a tremor in her frame as she descended from the carriage in the wide court, around which balconies ran, tier upon tier, and into which so many long, narrow windows looked.