Lord and Lady Montbarry were received by the housekeeper;the manager being absent for a day or two on business connectedwith the affairs of the hotel.

The rooms reserved for the travellers on the first floor werethree in number; consisting of two bedrooms opening into each other,and communicating on the left with a drawing-room. Complete so far,the arrangements proved to be less satisfactory in referenceto the third bedroom required for Agnes and for the eldest daughterof Lord Montbarry, who usually slept with her on their travels.The bed-chamber on the right of the drawing-room was already occupiedby an English widow lady. Other bedchambers at the other endof the corridor were also let in every case. There was accordinglyno alternative but to place at the disposal of Agnes a comfortableroom on the second floor. Lady Montbarry vainly complained of thisseparation of one of the members of her travelling party from the rest.The housekeeper politely hinted that it was impossible for herto ask other travellers to give up their rooms. She could onlyexpress her regret, and assure Miss Lockwood that her bed-chamberon the second floor was one of the best rooms in that part ofthe hotel.

On the retirement of the housekeeper, Lady Montbarry noticedthat Agnes had seated herself apart, feeling apparently no interestin the question of the bedrooms. Was she ill? No; she felta little unnerved by the railway journey, and that was all.Hearing this, Lord Montbarry proposed that she should go out with him,and try the experiment of half an hour's walk in the cool evening air.Agnes gladly accepted the suggestion. They directed their stepstowards the square of St. Mark, so as to enjoy the breeze blowingover the lagoon. It was the first visit of Agnes to Venice.The fascination of the wonderful city of the waters exerted itsfull influence over her sensitive nature. The proposed half-hourof the walk had passed away, and was fast expanding to halfan hour more, before Lord Montbarry could persuade his companionto remember that dinner was waiting for them. As they returned,passing under the colonnade, neither of them noticed a ladyin deep mourning, loitering in the open space of the square.She started as she recognised Agnes walking with the new Lord Montbarry--hesitated for a moment--and then followed them, at a discreet distance,back to the hotel.

Lady Montbarry received Agnes in high spirits--with news of an eventwhich had happened in her absence.

She had not left the hotel more than ten minutes, before a littlenote in pencil was brought to Lady Montbarry by the housekeeper.The writer proved to be no less a person than the widow ladywho occupied the room on the other side of the drawing-room,which her ladyship had vainly hoped to secure for Agnes.Writing under the name of Mrs. James, the polite widow explainedthat she had heard from the housekeeper of the disappointmentexperienced by Lady Montbarry in the matter of the rooms.Mrs. James was quite alone; and as long as her bed-chamber was airyand comfortable, it mattered nothing to her whether she slept onthe first or the second floor of the house. She had accordinglymuch pleasure in proposing to change rooms with Miss Lockwood.Her luggage had already been removed, and Miss Lockwood had only totake possession of the room (Number 13 A), which was now entirely ather disposal.

'I immediately proposed to see Mrs. James,' Lady Montbarry continued,'and to thank her personally for her extreme kindness.But I was informed that she had gone out, without leaving wordat what hour she might be expected to return. I have writtena little note of thanks, saying that we hope to have the pleasureof personally expressing our sense of Mrs. James's courtesyto-morrow. In the mean time, Agnes, I have ordered your boxesto be removed downstairs. Go!--and judge for yourself, my dear,if that good lady has not given up to you the prettiest roomin the house!'

With those words, Lady Montbarry left Miss Lockwood to make a hastytoilet for dinner.

The new room at once produced a favourable impression on Agnes.The large window, opening into a balcony, commanded an admirableview of the canal. The decorations on the walls and ceiling wereskilfully copied from the exquisitely graceful designs of Raphaelin the Vatican. The massive wardrobe possessed compartmentsof unusual size, in which double the number of dresses that Agnespossessed might have been conveniently hung at full length.In the inner corner of the room, near the head of the bedstead,there was a recess which had been turned into a little dressing-room,and which opened by a second door on the inferior staircase ofthe hotel, commonly used by the servants. Noticing these aspectsof the room at a glance, Agnes made the necessary change in her dress,as quickly as possible. On her way back to the drawing-room she wasaddressed by a chambermaid in the corridor who asked for her key.'I will put your room tidy for the night, Miss,' the woman said,'and I will then bring the key back to you in the drawing-room.'

While the chambermaid was at her work, a solitary lady, loitering aboutthe corridor of the second storey, was watching her over the bannisters.After a while, the maid appeared, with her pail in her hand,leaving the room by way of the dressing-room and the back stairs.As she passed out of sight, the lady on the second floor (no other,it is needless to add, than the Countess herself) ran swiftlydown the stairs, entered the bed-chamber by the principal door,and hid herself in the empty side compartment of the wardrobe.The chambermaid returned, completed her work, locked the doorof the dressing-room on the inner side, locked the principalentrance-door on leaving the room, and returned the key to Agnes in thedrawing-room.

The travellers were just sitting down to their late dinner,when one of the children noticed that Agnes was not wearing her watch.Had she left it in her bed-chamber in the hurry of changing her dress?She rose from the table at once in search of her watch; Lady Montbarryadvising her, as she went out, to see to the security of her bed-chamber,in the event of there being thieves in the house. Agnes foundher watch, forgotten on the toilet table, as she had anticipated.Before leaving the room again she acted on Lady Montbarry's advice,and tried the key in the lock of the dressing-room door. It wasproperly secured. She left the bed-chamber, locking the main doorbehind her.

Immediately on her departure, the Countess, oppressed by the confinedair in the wardrobe, ventured on stepping out of her hiding placeinto the empty room.

Entering the dressing-room, she listened at the door, until the silenceoutside informed her that the corridor was empty. Upon this,she unlocked the door, and, passing out, closed it again softly;leaving it to all appearance (when viewed on the inner side)as carefully secured as Agnes had seen it when she tried the key inthe lock with her own hand.

While the Montbarrys were still at dinner, Henry Westwick joined them,arriving from Milan.

When he entered the room, and again when he advanced to shake handswith her, Agnes was conscious of a latent feeling which secretlyreciprocated Henry's unconcealed pleasure on meeting her again.For a moment only, she returned his look; and in that moment her ownobservation told her that she had silently encouraged him to hope.She saw it in the sudden glow of happiness which overspread his face;and she confusedly took refuge in the usual conventional inquiries relatingto the relatives whom he had left at Milan.

Taking his place at the table, Henry gave a most amusing accountof the position of his brother Francis between the mercenaryopera-dancer on one side, and the unscrupulous manager of the Frenchtheatre on the other. Matters had proceeded to such extremities,that the law had been called on to interfere, and had decided the disputein favour of Francis. On winning the victory the English manager hadat once left Milan, recalled to London by the affairs of his theatre.He was accompanied on the journey back, as he had been accompaniedon the journey out, by his sister. Resolved, after passing twonights of terror in the Venetian hotel, never to enter it again,Mrs. Norbury asked to be excused from appearing at the family festival,on the ground of ill-health. At her age, travelling fatigued her,and she was glad to take advantage of her brother's escort to returnto England.

While the talk at the dinner-table flowed easily onward,the evening-time advanced to night--and it became necessaryto think of sending the children to bed.

As Agnes rose to leave the room, accompanied by the eldest girl,she observed with surprise that Henry's manner suddenly changed.He looked serious and pre-occupied; and when his niece wished himgood night, he abruptly said to her, 'Marian, I want to know whatpart of the hotel you sleep in?' Marian, puzzled by the question,answered that she was going to sleep, as usual, with 'Aunt Agnes.'Not satisfied with that reply, Henry next inquired whether the bedroomwas near the rooms occupied by the other members of the travelling party.Answering for the child, and wondering what Henry's object couldpossibly be, Agnes mentioned the polite sacrifice made to herconvenience by Mrs. James. 'Thanks to that lady's kindness,'she said, 'Marian and I are only on the other side of the drawing-room.'Henry made no remark; he looked incomprehensibly discontentedas he opened the door for Agnes and her companion to pass out.After wishing them good night, he waited in the corridoruntil he saw them enter the fatal corner-room--and thenhe called abruptly to his brother, 'Come out, Stephen, and letus smoke!'

As soon as the two brothers were at liberty to speak together privately,Henry explained the motive which had led to his strange inquiriesabout the bedrooms. Francis had informed him of the meeting withthe Countess at Venice, and of all that had followed it; and Henry nowcarefully repeated the narrative to his brother in all its details.'I am not satisfied,' he added, 'about that woman's purpose in givingup her room. Without alarming the ladies by telling them what Ihave just told you, can you not warn Agnes to be careful in securingher door?'

Lord Montbarry replied, that the warning had been alreadygiven by his wife, and that Agnes might be trusted to takegood care of herself and her little bed-fellow. For the rest,he looked upon the story of the Countess and her superstitionsas a piece of theatrical exaggeration, amusing enough in itself,but unworthy of a moment's serious attention.

While the gentlemen were absent from the hotel, the room which hadbeen already associated with so many startling circumstances,became the scene of another strange event in which Lady Montbarry'seldest child was concerned.

Little Marian had been got ready for bed as usual, and had(so far) taken hardly any notice of the new room. As she kneltdown to say her prayers, she happened to look up at that partof the ceiling above her which was just over the head of the bed.The next instant she alarmed Agnes, by starting to her feetwith a cry of terror, and pointing to a small brown spoton one of the white panelled spaces of the carved ceiling.'It's a spot of blood!' the child exclaimed. 'Take me away!I won't sleep here!'

Seeing plainly that it would be useless to reason with her while shewas in the room, Agnes hurriedly wrapped Marian in a dressing-gown,and carried her back to her mother in the drawing-room. Here,the ladies did their best to soothe and reassure the trembling girl.The effort proved to be useless; the impression that had beenproduced on the young and sensitive mind was not to be removedby persuasion. Marian could give no explanation of the panicof terror that had seized her. She was quite unable to say whythe spot on the ceiling looked like the colour of a spot of blood.She only knew that she should die of terror if she saw it again.Under these circumstances, but one alternative was left. It wasarranged that the child should pass the night in the room occupiedby her two younger sisters and the nurse.

In half an hour more, Marian was peacefully asleep with her armaround her sister's neck. Lady Montbarry went back with Agnesto her room to see the spot on the ceiling which had so strangelyfrightened the child. It was so small as to be only just perceptible,and it had in all probability been caused by the carelessnessof a workman, or by a dripping from water accidentally spilton the floor of the room above.

'I really cannot understand why Marian should place such a shockinginterpretation on such a trifling thing,' Lady Montbarry remarked.

'I suspect the nurse is in some way answerable for what has happened,'Agnes suggested. 'She may quite possibly have been tellingMarian some tragic nursery story which has left its mischievousimpression behind it. Persons in her position are sadly ignorantof the danger of exciting a child's imagination. You had bettercaution the nurse to-morrow.'

Lady Montbarry looked round the room with admiration. 'Is itnot prettily decorated?' she said. 'I suppose, Agnes, you don'tmind sleeping here by yourself.?'

Agnes laughed. 'I feel so tired,' she replied, 'that I was thinkingof bidding you good-night, instead of going back to the drawing-room.'

Lady Montbarry turned towards the door. 'I see your jewel-case onthe table,' she resumed. 'Don't forget to lock the other door there,in the dressing-room.'

'I have already seen to it, and tried the key myself,' said Agnes.'Can I be of any use to you before I go to bed?'

'No, my dear, thank you; I feel sleepy enough to follow your example.Good night, Agnes--and pleasant dreams on your first nightin Venice.'