For an instant Lenore hesitated. At Gerault’s words her heart had leaped up with a great cry of “Yes”; and yet now there was something in her that withheld her from saying it. When at last she answered him, her words were unaccountable to herself, yet she spoke them feelingly: “Nay, Gerault. Thou hast taken me to be one with thee. Thou hast brought me here to thy home, and it is also mine.” A light of pleasure came into Gerault’s face, and he took her into his arms with a freer and more open warmth than he had ever shown her before. “Indeed, thou art my wife—one with me—my sweet one—my sweet child Lenore! And this my home is also thine,—Chateau du Crépuscule!” Suddenly Lenore shivered in his clasp. That word “Crépuscule” sounded like a knell in her ears, and as she looked upon the gray walls looming out of the twilight mists, the very blood in her veins stood still. Whether Gerault felt her dread she did not know, but he did not loose his hold upon her for a long time. They stood, close-clasped, on the edge of the cliff, looking off upon the darkening sea, till, over the eastern horizon line, the great pink moon slipped up, giving promise of glory to the night. The cool evening breeze came off the waters. They heard the creaking and grating of the drawbridge, as it was raised. Then a flock of sea gulls floated up from the water below, and veered southward, along the shore, toward their home. Finally, in the deepening west, the evening star came out, hanging there like a diamond on an invisible thread. Then Gerault whispered in the ear of Lenore,— “Sweet child, it is late. The hour of evening meat is now long past. Let us go into the Castle.” Lenore yielded at once to the pressure of Gerault’s arm, and let herself be drawn away. But she carried forever after the memory of that quiet half-hour, in which the mighty hand of nature had been lifted over her to give her blessing. Courtoise the faithful had kept the two from a summons at the hour of supper; and on their return they found food left upon the table for them; but, what was unusual at this time, the great room was empty. Only Courtoise, who was again at work in the armory, knew how long they sat and ate and talked together, and only he saw them when they rose from table, passed immediately to the stairs, and ascended, side by side. Then the young squire knew that they would come down no more that night; and he guessed what was really true: that on that evening Lenore’s cup of happiness seemed full; for, as never before, Gerault claimed and took to himself the unselfish devotion that she was so ready to give. When she slept, a smile yet lingered round her lips; nor, in that sleep, did she feel the change that came upon her lord.