The Castle Of The Shadows

								

he answered desperately. "Now will you take pity upon me and turn round?"
Virginia hesitated. The man's voice shook. She did not know whether to
yield or to feel contempt because he showed emotion so much more readily
than her English and American friends. But while she hesitated they were
joined by her cousin, Sir Roger Broom, who had been riding behind with
her half-brother, George Trent, and Lady Gardiner.
"Look here, Loria," he exclaimed, with a certain excitement underlying
his tone; "it has just occurred to me that this is--er--the place that's
been nicknamed for the last few years the 'Valley of the Shadow.'"
"You are right," answered Loria. "That is why I didn't wish to come in."
Sir Roger nodded toward the château, which now loomed over them, gray,
desolate, one half in ruins, yet picturesquely beautiful both in position
and architecture. "Then that is----" he began, but the Italian cut him
short.
"Yes. And won't you help me persuade Miss Beverly that we've seen enough
of this valley now?"
"Why, the castle's for sale!" cried Virginia suddenly, before Roger
Broom had had time to speak.
She pointed to one of the tall gate-posts at the foot of the hill, close
to the road, which showed a notice-board announcing in both French and
Italian that the Château de la Roche was to be sold, permission to view
being obtainable within.
"Poor people; they must have been reduced to sad straits indeed!"
murmured Sir Roger, looking at the board with its faded lettering, half
defaced by time and weather.
"Yes, it was all very unfortunate, very miserable," Loria said hastily.
"Shall we go back?"
The Englishman seemed hardly to hear. "I'd seen photographs of the
valley, but I'd quite forgotten, until suddenly it began to look
familiar. Then, all in a flash, I remembered."
"What do you remember; and why do you call this the Valley of the
Shadow?" demanded Virginia. "You are both very mysterious. But perhaps
it's the influence of the place. Everything seems mysterious here."
Roger Broom sighed, and roused himself with an effort from his reverie.
"Queer that we should have drifted here by accident," he
said--"especially with you, Loria."
"Why especially with me?" the other asked with a certain sharpness.
"You were the poor fellow's friend. Oh, Virginia, forgive me for not
answering you. This place is reminiscent of tragedy. A man whom I used to
know slightly, and Loria intimately, lived here. That grim old house
perched up on the hillside has been the home of his ancestors for
hundreds of years. Now, you see, it is for sale. But it's likely to
remain so. Who would buy it?"
"Why not?" asked Virginia. "Is it haunted?"
"Only by melancholy thoughts of a family ruined, a man cut off from life
at its best and brightest, to be sent into exile worse than death. By the
way, Loria, do you know what became of the sister?"
"I have heard that she still lives here with an aunt and one old