She had pressed the flowers to her lips unconsciously, and at his words she started and smiled, and looked up to reply with the brightest face he had ever looked upon. But suddenly, before a single word left her lips, her aspect changed strangely and marvelously. Her cheeks and lips grew white as death, her eyes grew wild with horror, and she swept her hand across her brow as if to dispel some horrid vision. Her form trembled like a leaf in a storm, and with a wild, inarticulate cry she wavered and fell in a lifeless heap at Captain Ernscliffe's feet. It was all so sudden that Captain Ernscliffe lifted her up and carried her through the low window out on the balcony before anyone had noticed her fall. He laid her down on a rustic lounge, turned her white face up to the air, and went and called her mother very quietly. "Oh! Captain Ernscliffe, is she dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Lyle, wringing her hands in terror. "Oh! no, she has only fainted, I think. The rooms were too warm, perhaps. See, she is already reviving in the cooler air out here." The girl's breath came fluttering back in a long, quivering sigh. She caught Captain Ernscliffe's arm and half-lifted herself without seeming to notice her mother. "Oh! Captain Ernscliffe, did you see _it_?" she gasped, rather than spoke. "Did I see _what_?" he inquired, rather blankly. "The _horrid_ vision that came between me and the flowers and made me faint," she answered, sitting up and looking at him in surprise. "My dear young lady, there was nothing to see, only the dancers. You were tired and excited, and the heat overcame you. You are unaccustomed to the crush and excitement of balls, you know." "And _you_ saw nothing but the _dancers_?" she said to him, shivering as she spoke, like one in a chill, and passing her hand before her eyes. "Nothing, I assure you," he answered, gravely. "What did you see, Queenie?" inquired Mrs. Lyle, coming forward. "Oh! mamma, is that you?" Little Queenie reached out her white arms, twined them about her mother's neck, and sank on her bosom trembling and shivering, and moaning faintly: "Oh! mamma! mamma!" "My dear, my dear, compose yourself. You are nervous and hysterical," remonstrated Mrs. Lyle. "See, you are distressing Captain Ernscliffe very much." Little Queenie hushed her sobs and looked up at the gentleman, who did indeed look anxious and distressed. "What was it you saw, Miss Lyle?" he inquired, gently. "Perhaps you will not credit it," she said, lifting her white, awe-stricken face in the moonlight that flooded the balcony, "but, Captain Ernscliffe, just as I looked up from my flowers to speak to you, the whole scene of the ball faded out into _blackness_, and then I saw a vision come before me in its place." She paused, shuddered visibly, then resumed: