“All right,” John answered, as he extended his hand and pressed the moulding behind which lay the spring. The panel flew open and a rush of cool air took Stella’s breath. “Heavens!” she exclaimed, clinging suddenly to John’s arm, “why, I had no idea it could open here just behind us in the hall!” He could feel her tremble. “There’s not the slightest danger--you need not be afraid,” he said, tenderly. “Wait, I’ll get the candle and go before you.” He took the candle from the centre table and entered the passage-way, closing the panel. “Wait, you must hold my hand,” Stella cried timidly. He took the soft little hand in his with a throb of joy and carefully led her down the tiny stairs into the basement, where the passage turned between two walls and again descended a half dozen steps to another door which led out of the house into the long straight way to the vault. Trembling with excitement, she clung in silence to his hand as they entered the long damp passage. He closed the door suddenly, the sound crashing through the narrow walls in a thousand startling echoes. Stella sprang into his arms, nestling close and whispered: “Mercy! what was that?” “Only the door,” he laughed. “It scared me nearly to death,” she faltered, slowly withdrawing from his sheltering protection while she skilfully managed to press her soft bare arm against his hand. She felt him tremble, his breath deepen and quicken at the touch of her flesh. “You’re sure there’s no danger?” she asked. “Not the slightest,” he replied cheerily. “Just one more little surprise and we are out in the moonlight on the lawn.” He led her clinging to his hand along the dark way, holding the flickering candle above her head, a hundred mad impulses of love surging through his brain. They stopped at the stoneset door leading into the tomb, and he handed her the candle, gently disengaging his other hand. He drew the heavy door back, Stella stepped through and he followed close behind her. She raised the candle high and looked about the vault. With a sudden cry, she staggered into his arms gasping: “Why,--we’re--in--the--vault!” The candle dropped from her hand and she threw her arm around John’s neck clinging to him frantically. Her hold relaxed and her head drooped against his breast. He clasped her tenderly for a moment and his lips instinctively touched the curling mass of her hair, as he cried in agony: “God help me--I’m lost!” She revived as quickly as she had collapsed and murmured: “I was about to faint--quick, let’s get out!” He led her through the iron grilled door into the moonlit shadows of the lawn. “Oh!” she cried with a gasp of relief. “What a wild experience! I hope I didn’t do anything very silly--did I?” she asked dreamily. “You did just what any little girl of your age might do under such conditions,” he replied, gazing at her with deep seriousness. “Come, let us find a seat on the lawn and I’ll tell you the story of the vault and the secret way.”