ams of the morning sun, yet
recalling vividly the dark visions of the night. D'Effernay was full
of attentions to his new friend. They started on their ride, in spite
of some threatening clouds, and began the inspection of meadows,
shrubberies, farms, &c. After a couple of hours, which were consumed
in this manner, it began to rain a few drops, and at last burst out
into a heavy shower. It was soon impossible even to ride through the
woods for the torrents that were pouring down, and so they returned to
the castle.

Edward retired to his room to change his dress, and to write some
letters, he said, but more particularly to avoid Emily, in order not
to excite her husband's jealousy. As the bell rang for dinner he
saw her again, and found to his surprise that the captain, whom he
had first seen in the coffee-room, and who had given him so much
information, was one of the party. He was much pleased, for they had
taken a mutual fancy to each other. The captain was not at quarters
the day Edward had left them, but as soon as he heard where his friend
had gone, he put horses to his carriage and followed him, for he said
he also should like to see these famous estates. D'Effernay seemed
in high good humor to-day, Emily far more silent than yesterday,
and taking little part in the conversation of the men, which turned
on political economy. After coffee she found an opportunity to give
Edward (unobserved) a little packet. The look with which she did so,
told plainly what it contained, and the young man hurried to his room
as soon as he fancied he could do so without remark or comment. The
continued rain precluded all idea of leaving the house any more that
day. He unfolded the packet; there were a couple of sheets, written
closely in a woman's fair hand, and something wrapped carefully in a
paper, which he knew to be the ring. It was the fellow to that which
he had given the day before to Emily, only Ferdinand's name was
engraved inside instead of hers. Such were the contents of the
papers:--

"Secrecy would be misplaced with the friend of the dead. Therefore,
will I speak to you of things which I have never uttered to a human
being until now. Jules D'Effernay is nearly related to me. We knew
each other in the Netherlands, where our estates joined. The boy loved
me already with a love that amounted to passion; this love was my
father's greatest joy, for there was an old and crying injustice which
the ancestors of D'Effernay h