Hamilton did not venture to move; they were so near him that he heard the hands feeling the way on the wall close to where he stood. One reached the narrow passage in safety, the other stumbled on the stairs; and, as Hamilton unconsciously made a movement to assist her, the lightning, which had once or twice enabled him to distinguish their figures, now rendered him for a moment visible. It was in vain he again drew back into his hiding-place. With a cry of terror, Crescenz raised herself from the ground, and rushed into her sister’s arms, exclaiming, “I have seen him! I have seen him! He is here!” “What! Who is here?” “The Englishman! the Englishman!” “Impossible! How can you be so foolish? Come, come, let us leave this place.” “I saw him, and the lightning played upon his face, and he looked as if he were dead. I saw him, indeed I saw him!” cried Crescenz, sobbing frantically. “Crescenz—dear Crescenz!” said her sister, vainly endeavouring to calm her. Hamilton was inexpressibly shocked, and conceiving his actual presence would relieve her mind from the fear of having seen something supernatural, he came forward and explained, as well as he could, the cause of his being there. In the excess of his anxiety he seized her hand, called her Crescenz, and talked he knew not what nonsense. Her efforts to control her emotions were desperate. She forced a laugh, but the attempt ended in a scream, which echoed wildly through the building. “Crescenz! Crescenz! have you lost your senses?” cried her sister. “You will bring the whole house about us!” Her words seemed likely to be verified, for lights began to glimmer in all directions. “Mamma will come, and we may make up our minds to return to Munich to-morrow,” cried Hildegarde, impatiently. Hamilton’s situation now became uncomfortable; it was, to say the least, not favourable for a first appearance among strangers; and the thought that “A. Z.” might be among them was so overpowering that he stood perfectly petrified, and still unconsciously holding Crescenz’s hand. “As to you, the Englishman,” continued Hildegarde, angrily, “your standing there can only increase our embarrassment. Begone! It is still possible for you to escape observation.” He turned mechanically towards the organ-loft. “Not there! Not there!” she cried vehemently. “One would really think you a fool!” Roused by this somewhat uncivil observation, Hamilton asked, in about as gentle a tone of voice as her own, “Where the d—l shall I go, then, mademoiselle? You don’t wish me to face all those lights, do you?” “Go! go! go!” she cried, with increased violence, and stamping the ground with her feet. “You can cross the corridor before they reach the entrance to this passage.”