In the library, long and low, they just entered, stopped short: it was no place for their play.

In the drawing-room, now deserted, they were more curious and adventurous.

Through the large window, still open, they came in freely and archly, as if to spy what had caused such disorder; the stiff chairs out of place, the smooth floor despoiled of its carpet, that flower dropped on the ground, that scarf forgotten on the table,--the rays lingered upon them all.

Up and down through the house, from the base to the roof, roved the children of the air, and found but two spirits awake amidst the slumber of the rest.
In that tower to the east, in the tapestry chamber with the large gilded bed in the recess, came the rays, tamed and wan, as if scared by the grosser light on the table.

By that table sat a girl, her brow leaning on one hand; in the other she held a rose,--it is a love-token: exchanged with its sister rose, by stealth, in mute sign of reproach for doubt excited,--an assurance and a reconciliation.