A Silver Brand — page 212: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

04 > A SILVER BRAND, Involuntarily Aubrey fell back, while a cold dew gath- ered on his forehead. Something distinct, taking visible form, glided forth. There was still light enough for him to see that it had a woman’s shape. It went on either unmindful or uncaring for his pres- ence, and stretching out a long and shadowy arm, seemed to touch the pictures one by one, until it came to that of the lovely and hapless Lady Pauline. There it stopped and bent forward, and the hands were outstretched, he thought, in benediction or in anathema. Again a long, low, fluttering sigh floated by him weirdly, but with it came also a sharp click—too matter-of-fact a sound to accompany a ghost—and a rustle of papers fol- lowed, and, after that, unmistakably the low-breathed ejaculation : ‘Safe! now may Heaven be praised !” At this all his awe and superstitious dread fell away, and reckless of consequences, he determined to behold the - face of the midnight visitor. He held the coil of taper in his hand,-he struck a matah quickly and lighted it steadily, and then turned to con- front a figure standing like something suddenly petrified, with clasped hands, and white face, and wild, imploring eyes that ran over his features with a singular blending of alarm and astonishment. ‘“Who are you that intrude here!” demanded Aubrey, in a whisper, mine h of his own need to avoid disturbing the house; ‘‘and where have you come from? I thought. at first it was a ghost—the Lady Pauline’s ghost !” The white, shivering lips made many efforts before an audible speech came from them. “ And you—tell me your name that you stand before me with the very look and bearing of one who has long since left the earth and these stately walls. You are not—you cannot be Valentin Baer’s son, and wear on your lips the very smile of his wronged kinsman. a “No; [am not the Baron Baer’s son, whoever else J may be. IT ama guest in this house, or a prisoner—it ‘matters little which you may callme. But I am no Baer, and just now [ have little liking for the name or the in- dividual.” _ “A prisoner,” repeated the lady. ‘‘Then—then you are not in the favor of the ruler of the guards here ?” ‘You mean Von Schubert. No, I am not on his side— ‘COr ‘Comicbooks