he was very slender, and the deep-sunken eye, the gloomy
frown which was fixed between his brows, and the thin lips, had no
very prepossessing expression, and yet there was something imposing in
the whole appearance of the man.

Edward thanked him civilly for his invitation, spoke of his idea of
being a purchaser as a motive for his visit, and gave his own, and
his father's name. D'Effernay seemed pleased with all he said. He had
known Edward's family in the metropolis; he regretted that the late
hour would render it impossible for them to visit the property to-day,
and concluded by pressing the lieutenant to pass the night at the
Castle. On the morrow they would proceed to business, and now he would
have the pleasure of presenting his wife to the visitor. Edward's
heart beat violently--at length then he would see her! Had he loved
her himself he could not have gone to meet her with more agitation.
D'Effernay led his guest through many rooms, which were all as well
furnished, and as brilliantly lighted as the first he had entered.
At length he opened the door of a small boudoir, where there was no
light, save that which the faint, gray twilight imparted through the
windows.

The simple arrangement of this little room, with dark green walls,
only relieved by some engravings and coats of arms, formed a pleasing
contrast to Edward's eyes, after the glaring splendor of the other
apartments. From behind a piano-forte, at which she had been seated
in a recess, rose a tall, slender female form, in a white dress of
extreme simplicity.

"My love," said D'Effernay, "I bring you a welcome guest, Lieutenant
Wensleben, who is willing to purchase the estate."

Emily courtesied; the friendly twilight concealed the shudder that
passed over her whole frame, as she heard the familiar name which
aroused so many recollections.

She bade the stranger welcome, in a low, sweet voice, whose tremulous
accents were not unobserved by Edward; and while the husband made some
further observation, he had leisure to remark, as well as the fading
light would allow, the fair outline of her oval face, the modest
grace of her movements, her pretty, nymph-like figure--in fact, all
those charms which seemed familiar to him through the impassioned
descriptions of his friend.

"But what can this fancy be, to sit in the dark?" asked D'Effernay, in
no mild tone; "you know that is a thing I cannot bear." and with these
words, and without waiting his wife