anner, and wondering within himself
in what shape and from what quarter might come the storm, which he
convinced himself could not be distant.

Grief for my father's death, and anxiety for my poor mother's fate,
were, however, the uppermost thoughts in his mind; and as he drew nigh
Castle Carew, his heart was so much overpowered by the change which had
fallen upon that once happy home that he totally forgot all the dark
hints and menacing intimations of his late interview.

It was truly a gloom-stricken mansion. The servants moved about sadly,
conversing in low whispers; save in one quarter, all the windows were
closed, and the rooms locked up,--not a voice nor a footstep was to
be heard. Mourning and woe were imprinted on every face and in every
gesture. MacNaghten knew not where to go, nor where to stay. Every
chamber he entered was full of its memories of the past, and he wandered
on from room to room, seeking some spot which should not remind him
of days whose happiness could never return. In this random search he
suddenly entered the chamber where M. de Gabriac lay at full length upon
a sofa, enjoying, in all the ease of a loose dressing-gown, the united
pleasures of a French novel and a bottle of Bordeaux. MacNaghten would
willingly have returned at once. Such a scene and such companionship
were not to his taste; but the other quickly detected him, and called
out,--

"Ah! M. MacNaghten, how delighted am I to see you again! What days of
misery and gloom have I been passing here,--no one to speak to, none to
sit with."

"It is, indeed, a sad mansion," sighed MacNaghten, heavily.

"So, then, it is all true?" asked the other. "Poor fellow, what
a sensitive nature,--how impressible. To die just for a matter of
sentiment; for, after all, you know it was a sentiment, nothing else.
Every man has had his affairs of this kind,--few go through life without
something unpleasant; but one does not die broken-hearted for all that.
No, _parbleu_, that is a very poor philosophy. Tell me about the duel; I
am greatly interested to hear the details."

To escape as far as possible any further moralizings of his companion,
Dan related all that he knew of the fatal rencontre, answering, so
well as he might, all the Frenchman's questions, and, at the same time,
avoiding all reference to the provocation which led to the meeting.

"It was a mistake, a great mistake, to fight in this fashion," said
Gabriac, coldly. "There is an etiq