The chicken soup that Kitty brought me for my dinner, was the very nicest ever administered to hungry convalescent; and after the meal was concluded, and the afternoon sun shut out, I made up for all deficiencies in last night's repose by a very satisfactory sleep; from which I awoke with a start, to find that I had slept "the all-golden afternoon" quite away, and that twilight was stealing over the quiet lake, and the rich autumn woods. I smoothed back the tumbled hair from my face, and leaning against the window, looked thoughtfully out. The sun had but just gone down, and left the horizon still glowing with his light, without a single cloud to break the unruffled calm of sky and lake. Not a breath of wind stirred the dead leaves that lay thick beneath the trees in the park--not a sound broke the stillness. How hushed and silent the dark house was! How much more to the past did it seem to belong, than to the living actual present. And turn my eyes or thoughts whichever way I might, they still reverted to some thing that would remind me of the strange story I had heard that morning, still brought before me the desolate room, where the dust of years lay on all traces of her, who, banished, or wronged, or fled, had darkened forever the home she left. With her, it seemed, had vanished the gaiety, the life of the house; following fast upon her absence had come death and desolation; and the sole survivor of this, her ancient race, grew stern and silent at the merest allusion to her. My young brain grew feverish and impatient at the baffling mystery, and refused to entertain any other thought or interest. A vague dread and superstitious awe crept over me as the twilight waxed dimmer and greyer, and the dying fire smouldered on the hearth, and the stillness remained unbroken. Where was everybody; or had I slept over a few years, and were they all dead? And was I the only living thing in the great house--another Princess in another Day-dream, only wakened without the kiss, and the prince gone off in a huff? I laughed aloud, but my laughter had a very hollow sound, and only made the succeeding silence more ghastly; it was very foolish, but I was exceedingly uncomfortable. Why didn't Kitty come? I could not find a bell. I searched in vain for matches; the fire was past service, and could not for its life, have raised flame enough to light a candle. Every minute the room grew darker and chillier, every minute the silence grew more and more oppressive. I began to think of what Kitty had said of the voice that still called "Alice" through the vacant halls; and then I wondered whether this were not the very room in which the father died; and then I tried not to listen or hear anything, and the next moment found myself with strained ear, watching for the lightest sound.