"Not at all, he loves her to come as much as I do.

She haunts--both my rooms--and the chapel, too--she wears a white dress and has some stephanotis in her hair--and I am somehow compelled to enact a whole scene with her--there before the altar with all the candles blazing--and it seems as if I put a ring upon her hand--like the one you are wearing there--she has lovely hands." The color began to die out of Sabine's cheeks and a strange look grew in her eyes.

The footmen were removing the fish plates, but she was oblivious of that.

Then the tones of Michael's voice changed and grew deeper.
"Soon all the vision fades into gloom, and the only thing I can see is that she is tearing my ring off and throwing it away into the darkness." "And do you try to prevent her from doing this ?" Sabine hardly spoke above a whisper, while she absently refused an entree which was being handed.

To talk of ghosts and such like things had been easy enough, but she had not bargained for him turning the conversation into one of serious meaning.