CHAPTER V.

"ONLY A DREAM."

"Ah, sweet, thou little knowest how

I wake and passionate watches keep;

And yet while I address thee now,

Methinks thou smilest in thy sleep.

'Tis sweet enough to make me weep,

That tender thought of love and thee,

That while the world is hushed in sleep,

Thy soul's perhaps awake to me."

It was almost midnight, yet Love Ellsworth's lamp still burned dimly as

he sat by his open window in the flood of white moonlight, going over

and over in his mind the events of the day, unable to turn his thoughts

from the artless little beauty who had charmed him so.

He was five-and-twenty, and he had had his little fancies and

flirtations, like most young men of his age, but this was the first time

that his heart had been really touched.

Love's glamour was upon him, and he could not rest or sleep for thinking

of shy, winsome Dainty, whose charms had wiled the heart from his

breast, so that it was with difficulty he had refrained from declaring

his love and begging for her heart in return.

He mused, tenderly:

"How it would have startled her--shy little dove--if I had followed my

impulse to tell her of my love during that blissful drive over from the

station! But I must be patient, and woo her fondly a little while ere I

dare to speak."

How vexed he was at his step-mother's selfishness in keeping Dainty by

her side the whole evening, and leaving him to be entertained by the

other two girls, whom he secretly despised for their meanness to Dainty.

It made him smile sarcastically to remember how palpably each girl had

angled for his heart, giving him the sweetest smiles and most honeyed

words, while expressing their chagrin at missing his company on their

journey.

"If they could have guessed how glad I was of their absence, they would

not have seemed so complaisant," he thought, recalling the happy day he

had spent with Dainty; while he resolved to make sure of more like it by

inviting some other fellows to Ellsworth, so that Olive and Ela might be

provided with escorts, and not keep him from Dainty's side.

Before long, say a week at furthest, he would tell Dainty of his love,

and ask her to be his wife. No use putting off his happiness, he

thought; and if he could win the little darling, the wedding should

follow soon--as soon as he could persuade her to name the day.

So, lost in these happy reveries, he sat at the open window till

midnight, when he suddenly rose, stretched his full length, and

exclaimed:

"Heigh-ho! I must not dream here all night, for--ah, _what_ was that?"

For down the length of the broad corridor a piercing shriek was wafted

to his ears, followed by the patter of flying feet, and a body was

hurled violently against the door, while an anguished voice cried,

entreatingly:

"For God's sake, let me in!"

He sprang to the door, tore it open, and the fainting form of Dainty

fell forward into his arms.

"Good heavens!" he cried, in wonder and alarm; and at the same moment he

heard the opening of doors and the sound of excited voices outside, as

Mrs. Ellsworth, Olive, and Ela, in dressing-gowns, appeared on the

scene, wearing faces of lively consternation.

"What is the meaning of these shrieks and this strange scene, Love?"

demanded his step-mother, harshly--and suspiciously, it seemed to him.

Still holding Dainty's unconscious form most tenderly in his arms, he

replied, haughtily:

"I know no more than you do, madame. I heard a frightened shriek in the

corridor, then flying footsteps, and just as I flew to the door, and

wrenched it open, Miss Chase fell fainting into my arms."

"Very romantic!" cried Olive, with an irrepressible sneer.

"Very!" echoed Ela, mockingly.

The young man flashed them an indignant glance, and added:

"The young lady must have been frightened badly, to judge by her

condition; and I hope no one has been playing any silly pranks to make

her unhappy."

The remark was so pointed that both girls colored angrily; and Mrs.

Ellsworth cried, testily:

"Who would want to frighten her, I'd like to know? You're talking

nonsense, Love Ellsworth; so please carry her to her room as quickly as

possible, so that we can bring her out of that faint, and find out what

was the matter."

Love obeyed in silence, holding the drooping form close to his heart,

and longing to kiss the roses back to the pale lips and cheeks, but not

daring to venture on such a boldness under the fire of the coldly

disapproving eyes that watched him till he dropped the dear form on the

soft bed, and withdrew, saying:

"I will send for a doctor, if you think it necessary."

"Oh, no, not at all," Mrs. Ellsworth answered, shortly; and he seated

himself on a chair in the corridor, waiting impatiently for news of

Dainty's recovery.

But it was a long time--almost an hour--before the door opened again,

and Mrs. Ellsworth came out with Olive, saying:

"She gave us quite a turn, she was so long coming out of her swoon; but

she is getting on all right now, and Ela will remain with her the rest

of the night."

"But what was it that frightened her so?" he demanded, eagerly.

"Oh, it is too long a story for to-night. She can tell you herself

to-morrow," replied Mrs. Ellsworth, vanishing into her own room, while

Olive Peyton quickly followed her example.

There was nothing left him but to return to his own room and retire, and

wait till morning for relief from his anxiety.

Sleep came after an hour's weary tossing, and in dreams of Dainty the

brief night passed, and brought the beautiful summer morning with song

of birds and perfume of flowers.

Making a hasty toilet, he left his room, and went into the grounds,

where he gathered a large bunch of deep-red roses, and sent them to

Dainty's room by a maid.

At breakfast she wore them at the waist of her simple white gown, and

they contrasted with the pallor that lingered on her cheeks from last

night's experience.

"I hope you are well this morning?" he said to her, anxiously; and she

smiled pensively, as she answered:

"I am better, thank you. The sunlight has chased away all the terrors of

the night, and I am wondering if indeed I could have dreamed that

horrible thing, as Aunt Judith declares."

"So, then, you were frightened by something!" he exclaimed, tenderly.

"Would you mind telling me all about it?"

"Perhaps you will think me very silly," she replied, dubiously, lifting

her large eyes with a wistful look that thrilled his heart.

"No, indeed. Let me hear it," he cried; while the others waited in

malicious joy, knowing how angry it always made him to hear any

reference to the family ghost.

Dainty drew a long, quivering sigh, and began:

"There isn't much to tell, after all; only that while I was dressing for

dinner, I heard in the next room the sound of a terrible hacking cough,

several times repeated, as of some one in the last stages of

consumption. When the maid came in I inquired about it, and she crossed

herself piously, looking behind her as if in fear, while she muttered to

herself about 'the old monk.' When I pressed her for an explanation, she

denied that there was any sick person in the next room, or even in the

house."

She paused timidly, wondering why his brow had grown gloomy as a

thunder-cloud; but he said, with a kind of impatient courtesy:

"Well, go on."

Dainty's hands began to tremble as they toyed with the richly chased

silver knife and fork; but she continued, falteringly:

"Afterward, when I was going back to my room, I told Ela what I had

heard; and she laughed, and said that the family ghost of Ellsworth was

a wicked old monk who had died of consumption."

"Ah!" he cried, with a keen look at Ela; but she was too much absorbed

in her dainty broiled chicken to meet his glance.

Then Dainty resumed:

"I retired to my room, but I was nervous and restless, having never

slept away from my mother before. I threw on a dressing-gown, and sat

down beside the window to watch the moonlit scenery, and to muse

on--mamma, wondering if she missed her child, and felt as lonely and

depressed as I did. So I fell asleep in my chair, and was awakened

suddenly by the touch of an icy hand, and a rasping cough in my ear. I

started up. Oh, heavens! I was not alone! Beside me stood the figure of

an old monk with a ghastly white face and glassy dead eyes!"

Her face went dead white, even to the lips, at the remembrance, and her

voice sank almost to a whisper as she added:

"I shrieked aloud in my fear, and fled wildly from the room, meaning to

seek refuge with Olive and Ela in their rooms; but--they tell me I made

a mistake--and--and--disturbed you. I am very sorry. I hope you will

forgive me."

But his face was stern and cold, and his voice had a strained tone as he

answered:

"There was no disturbance. Pray don't mention it. I am only sorry that

some one has played a mischievous prank on you--a servant, doubtless.

Madame," sternly, looking at his step-mother. "I insist that you shall

investigate the matter, and discharge the offender."

He looked back, still gloomily, at Dainty, saying:

"Since you are so nervous over the parting from your mother, let one of

the maids sleep in your room at night; but pray do not give credence to

any silly stories that are told you by any one regarding the mythical

old monk. Ellsworth has never possessed a family ghost, and I am not

superstitious enough to believe in the existence of spirits at all. So

set your fears at rest. You doubtless dreamed it all, as your aunt

declares."

"Of course she did," averred Mrs. Ellsworth, smoothly. And then the

conversation turned to other things, while Dainty's heart sank like a

stone in her breast, for she felt a subtle premonition that Love

Ellsworth was displeased with her, and considered her weak and silly,

else why those cold, disapproving looks, so different from yesterday's

ardent glances, that told her throbbing heart so plainly that she was

tenderly and passionately beloved!