We took our seats in the East Room, which opened from the parlor, at a little table by the chimney. The astral lamp from the center table in the parlor shone into our room, intercepting any view toward us. I sat by the window, the curtain of which was drawn apart, and the shutters unclosed. A few yellow leaves stuck against the panes, unstirred by the melancholy wind, which sighed through the crevices. Charles was at my right hand, by the mantel; the light from a candelabra illuminated him and Mr. Somers, while Helen and I were in shadow. Mr. Somers dealt the cards, and we began the game. "We shall beat you," he said to Charles. "Not unless Cassandra has improved," he replied. I promised to do my best, but soon grew weary, and we were beaten. To my surprise Mr. Somers was vexed. His imperturbable manner vanished; he sat erect, his eyes sparkled, and he told me I must play better. We began another game, which he was confident of winning. I kept my eyes on the cards, and there was silence till Mr. Somers exclaimed, "Don't trump now, Mr. Morgeson." I watched the table for his card to fall, but as it did not, looked at him for the reason. He had forgotten us, and was lost in contemplation, with his eyes fixed upon me. The recognition of some impulse had mastered him. I must prevent Helen and Mr. Somers perceiving this! I shuffled the cards noisily, rustled my dress, looked right and left for my handkerchief to break the spell. "How the wind moans!" said Helen. I understood her tone; she understood him, as I did. "I _like_ Rosville, Miss Perkins," cried Mr. Somers. "Do you?" said Charles, clicking down his card, as though his turn had just come. "I must trump this in spite of you." "I am tired of playing," I said. "We are beaten, Miss Perkins," said Mr. Somers, rising. "Bring it here," to a servant going by with a tray and glasses. He drank a goblet of wine, before he offered us any. "Now give us music!" offering his arm to Helen, and taking her away. Charles and I remained at the table. "By the way," he said abruptly, "I have forgotten to give you a letter from your father--here it is." I stretched my hand across the table, he retained it. I rose from my chair and stood beside him. "Cassandra," he said at last, growing ashy pale, "is there any other world than this we are in now?" I raised my eyes, and saw my own pale face in the glass over the mantel above his head. "What do you see?" he asked, starting up. I pointed to the glass. "I begin to think," I said, "there is another world, one peopled with creatures like those we see there. What are they--base, false, cowardly?" "Cowardly," he muttered, "will you make me crush you? Can we lie to each other? Look!" He turned me from the glass. At that moment Helen struck a crashing blow on the piano keys. "Charles, give me--give me the letter."