"You will know soon enough," was the short reply; and full of apprehension the old man led the way to his granddaughter's room.
Beautiful Golden was walking up and down the dreary chamber, impatient as a captive bird. She started, and grew very pale as she caught sight of her Uncle John's stern face. She did not speak to him, but ran up to her grandfather and kissed his poor, old, wrinkled cheek.
"Good-morning, dear grandpa," she said. "I am very lonely. I miss you so much. Did black mammy tell you to bring me some roses?"
"Yes, dear, but I did not have the time," said the grandfather, with a tremulous voice, and stealing a glance at his son. For some inexplicable reason he stood in great fear of him.
"Have done with such foolish chat, girl," broke in John Glenalvan, roughly. "So you played the ghost last night, eh, miss?"
Golden gave a violent start, and clung to her grandfather. She trembled, and her sweet lips grew very pale.
"You need not deny it. Your looks betray your guilt," continued John Glenalvan, roughly.
"No, no, my Golden would not have done such a thing," cried her grandfather, warmly. "Who says that she did?"
Golden looked anxiously into her uncle's face as that question left the old man's lips. Her heart fell at the thought that the handsome man who had kissed her by the lake, had betrayed her to her merciless uncle.
But his next word relieved her from the dread.