The old guide beckoned Em. to follow him, and pulling aside the blue and white curtains of a doorway on his left, led the way into an oval-shaped saloon, with an oval window in front and a semi-circular mirror exactly opposite in the rear. This mirror was so artistically contrived that it reflected all the varied island scenery from the oriel window, and gave the saloon the appearance of being open and illimitable in length. This beautiful room was furnished entirely in white and blue—the walls being of polished white panels that shone like porcelain and having cornices of blue; the side windows and doorways draped with blue silk and white lace; the carpet white velvet bordered with blue; the chairs and sofas covered with white velvet trimmed with blue; the stands and tables of pure white marble tops, supported on blue-veined marble pedestals; the statues and statuettes, both in groups and single pieces, all of Parian marble; the jars and vases of blue Sèvres china. And what was still more unique in its harmony, the pictures that filled up all the spaces between the side doors and windows were framed in frosted silver plate, and the subjects were all of a bright, aerial, happy type—“Spring,” “Morning,” “Hope,” “Youth.” Em., “embarrassed with the riches” of these beauties, gazed in delight upon the whole room, and then began to examine the pictures, pausing in a rapture of admiration before each. But suddenly in her progress she started, uttered a slight cry and stood perfectly still before a picture that hung between two lofty windows on the side of the saloon opposite to the door leading into the hall. It was the full-length portrait of a lady, tall, elegantly formed, gracefully posed and clothed in white from head to foot; a white satin robe that fell from her rounded bust to her feet and drifted about them in soft white clouds; white satin hanging sleeves, open from the shoulders and half revealing the shapely arms; and over all, head, bust and waist, a large, flowing silver gauze veil that fell to her feet, half concealing, half revealing the resplendant beauty of the head and face with the bright, sun-gilded, auburn hair; with the perfect, chiseled Grecian features, the snowwhite complexion and large, mournful blue eyes half hidden under their snowy, drooping lids. The background of this form was a deep, cloudless, twilight sky. There was nothing else, nothing to divert attention from the beautiful, spiritual, mysterious form of the lady. Em. gazed upon it with breathless attention. It was not the spiritual beauty and mystery of this veiled figure alone that fixed her gaze—it was the “counterfeit presentment” of the moonlight apparition she had seen in the old hall. “Whose portrait is this?” she demanded in low, breathless tones of the old man, who had come to her side. “I dunno, honey, ’less it’s de White Spirit’s. Seems like it might be, from all accounts of her,” replied ’Sias.