n, and then resuming
his solitary watch. A light, the only one in the village, twinkles
from a window of the little inn, and the door lies open, for in his
impatience he has quitted his chamber to walk abroad in the night air.
As the hours wear on, his anxiety seems to increase, and he starts and
pauses at every sound of the wind through the trees, and every cadence
of the rushing river. At last he hears the tramp of a horse,--he
bends down to listen,--it comes nearer and nearer, and in his feverish
impatience he hastens in the direction of the coming noise.

"Is that you, Michel?" he cries, in an eager accent.

"Yes, D'Esmonde, it is!" replies a voice; and the next moment the
horseman has dismounted at his side.

"What have I not suffered since you left this, Michel!" said D'Esmonde,
as he rested his forehead on the other's shoulder. "There is not an
image of terror my mind has not conjured up. Shame, ignominy, ruin, were
all before me; and had you stayed much longer away, my brain could not
have borne it."

"But, D'Esmonde, my friend--"

"Nay, nay, do not reason with me; what I feel--what I suffer--has no
relation to the calm influences of reason. I alone can pilot myself
through the rocks and quicksands of this channel. Tell me of your
mission--how has it fared?"

"Less well than I hoped for," said the other, slowly.

"I thought as much," replied D'Esmonde, in a tone of deep dejection.
"You saw him?"

"Yes, our interview lasted nigh an hour. He received me coldly,
but courteously, and entered into the question with a kind of calm
acquiescence that at first gave me good encouragement."

"To end in disappointment!" cried D'Esmonde, bitterly; and the other
made no reply. "Go on, Michel," said the Abbe, after a pause; "tell me
all."

"I began," resumed the other, "by a brief reference to Godfrey's murder,
and the impenetrable mystery in which, up to this hour, it would appear
to be veiled. I related all that you had told me of the relationship
between him and the Daltons, and the causes which had broken off their
friendship. With these he seemed conversant, though I am unable to say
whether he knew more or less than what I was communicating. I dwelt as
long and as forcibly as I deemed safe on the character and habits of old
Dalton, hinting at his reckless, unprincipled career, and the wild and
lawless notions he entertained on every subject. To my great surprise,
and I confess to my discomfiture, he stopped