An hour before the great edifice had been bright and
full of animation; now it slumbered.
It was two o'clock. The breath of roses scented the air, the gurgle of
fountains was the only music that touched the ear. Beverly Calhoun,
dismissing Aunt Fanny, stepped from her window out upon the great stone
balcony. A rich oriental dressing-gown, loose and comfortable, was her
costume. Something told her that sleep would be a long time coming, and
an hour in the warm, delightful atmosphere of the night was more
attractive than the close, sleepless silence of her own room. Every
window along the balcony was dark, proving that the entire household had
retired to rest.
She was troubled. The fear had entered her head that the castle folk
were regretting the advent of Baldos, that everyone was questioning the
wisdom of his being in the position he occupied through her devices. Her
talk with him did much to upset her tranquillity. That he knew so much
of the fortress bore out the subtle suspicions of Dangloss and perhaps
others. She was troubled, not that she doubted him, but that if anything
went wrong an accusation against him, however unjust, would be difficult
to overcome. And she would be to blame, in a large degree.
For many minutes she sat in the dark shadow of a great pillar, her
elbows upon the cool balustrade, staring dreamily into the star-studded
vault above.
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