That black, forbidding door was the dividing of light from darkness,
of good from evil, of innocence from guilt. On one side of it, in a
chamber of light, sat a fair girl, confiding, generous, and deceived
only through her excess of every virtue; on the other, wickedness,
fell and artful, was approaching with stealthy footsteps through an
unseen way, and stood with hand upraised to knock, but incapable of
entering in unless that unsuspecting girl removed the bar.
As the hour of midnight approached, one sound after another died
away in the Chateau. Caroline, who had sat counting the hours and
watching the spectral moon as it flickered among the drifting
clouds, withdrew from the window with a trembling step, like one
going to her doom.
She descended to the secret chamber, where she had appointed to meet
her strange visitor and hear from strange lips the story that would
be told her.
She attired herself with care, as a woman will in every extremity of
life. Her dark raven hair was simply arranged, and fell in thick
masses over her neck and shoulders.
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