Aline's little turret faces the great avenue of Brandon. Lately, I have noticed that at any hour of the night I might waken, her light was burning; but only yesterday Oona told me that a lamp burns all night in the uncurtained window. I am sure that Aline's heart watches awake for Pierce, even when her body is sleeping. But lest he should come suddenly in the dark hours, she sets the light there like a star to draw him home. Who knows through what mirk and what distance it may find him at last? "Oh, Oona, dear," I cried to our old nurse when she had told me of the light, "I wish he would come back! It troubles me to see the hope and the disappointment that are always following each other in Aline's face. It is wearing her out." "Now, look here, Miss Hilda dear," the old woman said, putting a comfortable arm about me, "'tis my opinion that Master Pierce 'll never come home unless he brings the riches, my dear. He knows what was expected of him, and he's proud, terrible proud, as becomes a Brandon. No, he'll never come, except with the gold in his hand, or the death in his face; and if he knew he was to be taken, I don't think he could stay away from the sister that's been mother and sweetheart both to him." "Oona, Oona," cried I, "you're talking horribly! What has death to do with Pierce, who was always so strong and well? I wouldn't have you say such a thing to Aline for worlds." "No, nor I wouldn't, my pretty; only to you that has the wise head and the still tongue. But I see the trouble coming, and if I don't halve it, my old heart will break." She looked at me curiously, still keeping me pressed closely to her, and her face had grown indeed full of trouble. "Do ye sleep very sound o' nights, love?" she asked presently. "Pretty well, Oona, unless when the wind crying in the corridors keeps me awake." "There's more cries there nor the wind." "Oh, Oona, what do you mean? What superstition have you got into your head now?" "No superstition at all, then," said Oona, a little offended; "and perhaps I'd better have kept my tongue to myself." "Perhaps you had, Oona; but since you didn't, you may as well go on. I suppose you think you've heard the banshee?" The old woman nodded her head solemnly. "There was no thinking about it, dearie. She's cried the last three nights, and grateful I am that Miss Aline slept sound and didn't hear her." "If Miss Aline heard any crying, she would know it was the wind. Her trust is all in God, and she knows that He keeps the things of life and death in His own hands, and that His love is all about her. She would tell you there was no such thing as the banshee." "She would not, Miss Hilda, and I wonder at you to say the like. No Brandon should say it. 'Tis just because ye are Brandons, the finest, purest, ould blood alive, that she cries for ye."