When left alone with the Duke after Bride had vanished, little passed between them. The host apologised for his silence, but said he could not yet begin to talk of common things, and contented himself by obtaining a promise from Eustace to remain some weeks at the castle as his guest. In those days visits were always of considerable length, and Eustace had made his preparations for a lengthened absence from London, in case he should be required here. He accepted the invitation readily, and the Duke, rising and saying good night, with an intimation that he should retire at once to his room, Eustace strolled across the vast hall to the drawing-room, half expecting to find it empty; but his heart gave a quick bound as he saw it tenanted by the slim black-robed figure, and met the earnest gaze of Bride’s soft eyes. She rose as he appeared, and advanced to met him. Upon her face was an expression which he did not understand till her next words explained it. “Would you like to come and see her for the last time? To-morrow it will be too late.” Eustace bent his head in voiceless assent. He could not say nay to such an invitation, albeit he thought that there was something morbid in the feeling which prompted it. Habituated to foreign ways and customs, this keeping of the dead unburied for so many days was in his eyes slightly repulsive; but he followed the noiseless steps of his guide, and was at last ushered into a large dim room, lighted by many wax tapers, the light of which seemed, however, absorbed into the heavy black draperies with which the walls were hung. In this sombre apartment the Duchess had lain in state (if such a phrase might be used) for many days. The whole population of St. Bride and St. Erme had combined to plead for a last look upon her who in life had been so greatly beloved; and both the Duke and his daughter had been touched by the request, which was promptly gratified. And so Eustace now found himself before a prostrate figure that bore the likeness of a marble effigy, but was clad in soft white robes of sheeny texture, the fine dark hair being dressed as in life, and crowned by the film of priceless lace which the Duchess was wont to wear. Tall lilies in pots made a background for the recumbent figure, and the wax tapers cast their light most fully upon the tranquil face of the dead. And when once the eye rested on that face, the accessories were all forgotten. Eustace looked, and a great awe and wonder fell upon him. Bride looked, and her face kindled with that expression which he marked upon it when first he had seen her, and which afterwards, when he heard the words, seemed to him best described in this phrase, “Death is swallowed up of victory.” She knelt down beside the couch on which all that was mortal of her mother lay, and when Eustace turned his eyes away from the peaceful face of the dead, it was to let them rest for a moment upon the ecstatic countenance of the living.