The cell was lighted by a large hanging lamp, while the air which ventilated the apartment came through the upper part of the door which was formed of an iron grating. With a heavy heart he sat down to consider his uncomfortable position, and to wonder why he was thus a prisoner. CHAPTER XIX. “I SHALL GO MAD.” The sound slumber into which Robert had fallen was broken by the sweetest strains of music. He sat up on his couch and rubbed his eyes, trying to arouse himself; he was bewildered, yet enchanted, for the strains continued, now bursting forth into joyous melody, then dying away into the softest cadences, and finally sweeping on into intense passion and sadness. They seemed to come from behind his bed, and he vowed to himself that mortal ear never before heard such exquisite music. It sounded like a voice accompanied by a harp, and the tones so clear, so sweet, were like the chiming of delicate silver bells. He examined the tapestry hangings and found a place where they could be parted; he pulled aside the heavy folds, and saw a ponderous block of stone upon hinges, and swung open a foot or so into his chamber. Determined to learn all he could of this strange underground castle, and hoping this might be some secret passage which would lead him to liberty, he swung the block still farther back, and sweeping the heavy curtain aside, he beheld a fairy bower of beauty and elegance. The room was about the size of the one assigned to him, but hung with elegant white velvet, with gilt and purple trimmings. The carpet, also of white velvet, was strewn with great purple pansies, so perfect with their golden centers, and in their royal beauty, that Robert scarcely dared to step lest he should crush out their brilliant hues. The furniture, of purple and white, and framed in gilt, was of the most exquisite and graceful pattern. Lovely paintings and statues adorned the walls and niches of the room, and upon a table of some foreign wood inlaid with pearl, were scattered richly bound books, music, and all the delicate little trifles which one so likes to see in a lady’s boudoir. Over this table, and perched daintily upon one foot in his fancy cage, was a canary of purest gold, ever and anon twittering and chirping an echo to the song of his fair mistress. For several moments Robert scarcely dared to breathe, lest the lovely scene should melt away before his vision, and he awake and find it all a dream. He stood transfixed and amazed; every step he took in this strange smugglers’ fortress, he discovered new beauties and fresh mysteries. Upon a divan, dressed in spotless white, sat a golden-haired maiden, lightly fingering a magnificent harp, and pouring forth her soul in song.