Punctually to the hour (in the language of the old romances) a knock was heard on the alchemist's door. It was not a timid knock; neither was it a defiant one. It indicated that the person who knocked was self-possessed, and meant to come in.
The rooms in the right wing of the Cedarcliffe mansion, which constitute the alchemist's abode, are separated from the rest of the house. Formerly they were accessible by the corridor communicating with the main hall; but at a later date the extremity of this corridor was walled up, and the four rooms thus isolated could be entered only from out-doors. Passing through the outer portal, the visitor would see before him a flight of stairs leading to the two upper rooms. On his right was a door, giving access to a small library. In the partition-wall of this library, between two bookcases, was another door, which few persons had the privilege of passing. It was of massive oak, and turned on hinges of polished brass. It was fastened within by a heavy lock and bolt of steel.
The lady who sought admittance was young, and had a face and figure of distinguished beauty. She was dressed in a thin summer costume of some delicate white fabric, and wore a light silken shawl with black and yellow stripes draped over her dark hair and graceful shoulders. It was evident that she came by appointment; for the outer door, and that of the library, had been left ajar, and she had penetrated without hinderance to the final barrier.
A short pause ensued, during which the young woman threw one corner of her silken shawl over her shoulder and gave a swift glance behind her. Then the ponderous portal swung inward noiselessly on its hinges, and the visitor stepped fearlessly into the room beyond. The next moment the bolt was shot, and she and the alchemist were alone.
"Does any one know where you are?" the latter inquired.
"Not a soul!" she replied. "Cousin John has ridden to town to see the sheriff about that gang of burglars; and aunt has gone to bed with a headache. The servants think I have gone to the cliff to read. No one will miss me before tea-time."
"You have done well," returned the alchemist, approvingly. "Follow me!" And he led the way towards the farther end of the room.
The light of day was excluded from this chamber, but the illumination of a few lamps sufficed dimly to reveal its proportions. It was spacious and lofty: the atmosphere was cooler than the external air, and was penetrated by a subtile perfume of a delicately aromatic quality. As the visitor's eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she perceived that the walls were of solid stone, left undisguised in their naked sim-
