Ghosts never rise! So much I know, and am glad to know it!" Following the narrow staircase still higher, they came to another room of similar size and equally forlorn, but inhabited by two personages of a race which from time immemorial have held proprietorship and occupancy in ruined towers.

These were a pair of owls, who, being doubtless acquainted with Donatello, showed little sign of alarm at the entrance of visitors.

They gave a dismal croak or two, and hopped aside into the darkest corner, since it was not yet their hour to flap duskily abroad.
"They do not desert me, like my other feathered acquaintances," observed the young Count, with a sad smile, alluding to the scene which Kenyon had witnessed at the fountain-side.

"When I was a wild, playful boy, the owls did not love me half so well." He made no further pause here, but led his friend up another flight of steps--while, at every stage, the windows and narrow loopholes afforded Kenyon more extensive eye-shots over hill and valley, and allowed him to taste the cool purity of mid-atmosphere.

At length they reached the topmost chamber, directly beneath the roof of the tower.
"This is my own abode," said Donatello; "my own owl's nest." In fact, the room was fitted up as a bedchamber, though in a style of the utmost simplicity.