Wondering
whether he was awake or dreaming, Stafford waited for over an hour to
see if she would appear again; and he was turning away at last, when
her figure appeared in the open door-way, like that of a wraith. She
waved her hand to him, then disappeared, and the door closed.
Still asking himself if he were not in a land of dreams, but tingling
with the touch of her small hand, with the haunting perfume of the soft
black hair, Stafford gained the road and walked towards the inn.
CHAPTER IV.
Ida had followed her father across the terrace, across the hall, lit
weirdly by the glow of the sinking fire and the pale moonlight, up the
broad stairs, along the corridor to the open door of his room. He had
walked slowly but steadily with his usual gait, and his head bent
slightly; though his eyes were wide open, he seemed to see nothing, yet
he did not stumble or even hesitate. Ida followed behind him with
absolute noiselessness. They were both ghostlike in their movements,
and the dogs stood and watched them intently, ears erect, and with that
gravity in their eyes which dogs wear when they are puzzled.
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