"That horrid portrait! take it into the attic, Jet," said Mrs. Legare, as her eyes fell upon the _ci devant_ firescreen. The little maid took up the picture and carried it off as commanded. Then there was a visit of inspection and preparation paid to my room. Fresh sheets and more blankets were put upon the second bed, fresh napkins laid, and then mother and daughter and little maid departed. Through the remainder of that day I had no further opportunity of learning from Mathilde the history of the dark lady. Late that afternoon Uncle Judah was dispatched with the mules to Frost Height to meet the stage-coach, and bring Rachel Noales to the house. And about seven o'clock he returned, escorting the new visitor, for whom we were waiting tea. As Miss Noales was to be my roommate, I examined her with much more interest than I had bestowed upon any other among my fellow-visitors. Rachel Noales was an orphan, and was still in deep mourning for her father, who had been dead about nine months. She was a very pretty, timid-looking girl, with a fair face, soft brown hair and large hazel eyes. "Ah! my dear child," I thought to myself, "you are scarcely the most proper denizen for a crime-cursed, haunted chamber." And I made up my mind to protect her, if possible, from the knowledge that would only make her wretched, and perhaps drive her away from the place. As this was the fourth evening of Christmas revelry, and we had all been up to a very late hour upon each of the three preceding nights, it was moved, seconded, and carried by a large majority that we should retire early on this and the succeeding evenings of the week, so as to recruit a little for the New Year's festivity. Accordingly, at ten o'clock we separated. Mrs. Legare and Mathilde accompanied Rachel Noales and myself to our chamber. And when our hostess and her daughter had seen that the room was in perfect order, the fire burning well, the beds turned down, the ewers filled, etc., etc., they took leave, waiting, as before, until they had heard me lock the chamber door behind them. When they had passed down the stairs and out at the hall door and locked it after them, I turned around to meet the surprised look of Rachel Noales. "Why, where have they gone?" she asked. "Into the old house, to bed." "Why!--do they sleep there?" "Certainly--the whole family sleep there." "And who sleeps here in the new house?" "No one but you and I!" "You don't mean to say that they have put us in this house to sleep alone?" "Why not? It is an adjunct to the other house, which is, besides, quite full of guests. It was so when I came." "And where did you sleep?" "Here." "Alone?" "Certainly." She looked at me with astonishment. And had my mind been sufficiently at ease I should have enjoyed her naïve admiration. But it was not so; and when I saw her draw her chair up in front of the fire, and sit down immediately over that spot, I shuddered and spoke to her.