To-morrow I shall think nothing about her.
Still, dear, she does frighten me, I can't tell why.

There seems something malignant about her, something that threatens our happiness.
Oh, how silly I am--" Meanwhile, Antony had lit an old brass lantern, and presently he was flashing his way up among the dark sounds of the black old wood, with that ghostly face tenderly pressed against his side.
He stopped once to turn his lantern upon her.

How mysterious she looked, here in the night, under the dark pines! He too felt a little haunted as he climbed his chalet staircase and unlocked the door, every sound he made echoing fatefully in the silent wood; and when he had found a place for the image and hung her there, she certainly looked a ghostly companion for the midnight lamp, in the middle of a wood.
How strangely she smiled, the smile almost of one taking possession.
No wonder Beatrice had been frightened.

Was there some mysterious life in the thing, after all?
Why should these indefinite forebodings come over him as he looked at her!--But he was growing as childish as Beatrice.

Surely midnight, a dark wood, a lantern, and a death-mask, with two owls whistling to each other across the valley, were enough to account for any number of forebodings! But Antony shivered, for all that, as he locked the door and hastened back again down the wood..