know about
him."

"Alas, my dear Emma! I know nothing. When I saw him last, he seemed
a good deal affected, as if he were taking leave of me; and I had a
foreboding that we parted for a longer time than usual."

"Ah! so had I," said she, "when he parted from me in the garden."

"What leave did he take of you, Emma?"

She blushed, and hesitated to tell him all that passed between them;
but he begged, persuaded, insisted; and, at length, under the strongest
injunctions of secrecy, she told him all.

He said, "That Edmund's behaviour on that occasion was as mysterious
as the rest of his conduct; but, now you have revealed your secret, you
have a right to know mine."

He then gave her the letter he found upon his pillow; she read it with
great emotion.

"Saint Winifred assist me!" said she; "what can I think? 'The peasant
Edmund is no more, but there lives one,'--that is to my thinking, Edmund
lives, but is no peasant."

"Go on, my dear," said William; "I like your explanation."

"Nay, brother, I only guess; but what think you?"

"I believe we think alike in more than one respect, that he meant to
recommend no other person than himself to your favour; and, if he were
indeed of noble birth, I would prefer him to a prince for a husband to
my Emma!"

"Bless me!" said she, "do you think it possible that he should be of
either birth or fortune?"

"It is hard to say what is impossible! we have proof that the east
apartment is haunted. It was there that Edmund was made acquainted with
many secrets, I doubt not: and, perhaps, his own fate may be involved in
that of others. I am confident that what he saw and heard there, was the
cause of his departure. We must wait with patience the unravelling this
intricate affair; I believe I need not enjoin your secrecy as to what I
have said; your heart will be my security."

"What mean you, brother?"

"Don't affect ignorance, my dear; you love Edmund, so do I; it is
nothing to be ashamed of. It would have been strange, if a girl of your
good sense had not distinguished a swan among a flock of geese."

"Dear William, don't let a word of this escape you; but you have taken
a weight off my heart. You may depend that I will not dispose of my hand
or heart till I know the end of this affair."

William smiled: "Keep them for Edmund's friend; I shall rejoice to see
him in a situation to ask them."

"Hush, my brother! not a word more; I hear footsteps."

They were her eldest