bsence from England?'

'Yes, at least some years. I wish to visit the East.' 'You 'll go into
Poland?' said she quickly, without noticing my reply.

'Yes, I trust so; Hungary and Poland have both great interest for me.'

'You know that we are Poles, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'We are both from beyond Varsovie. Gustav was there ten years ago. I
have never seen my native country since I was a child.

At the last words her voice dropped to a whisper, and she leaned her
head upon her hand, and seemed lost in thought. I did not dare to break
in upon the current of recollections I saw were crowding upon her, and
was silent. She looked up at length, and by the faint light of the moon,
just risen, I saw that her eyes were tearful and her cheeks still wet.

'What,' said I to myself, 'and has sorrow come even here--here, where I
imagined if ever the sunny path of life existed, it was to be found?'

'Would you like to hear a sad story?' said she, smiling faintly, with a
look of indefinable sweetness.

'If it were yours, it would make my heart ache,' said I, carried away by
my feelings at the instant.

'I 'll tell it to you one of these days, then: not now! not now,
though!--I could not here; and there comes Gustav. How he laughs!'

And true enough, the merry sounds of his voice were heard through the
garden as he approached; and strangely, too, they seemed to grate and
jar upon my ear, with a very different impression from what before they
brought to me.

Our way back to Brussels led again through the forest, which now was
wrapped in the shade, save where the moon came peeping down through
the leafy branches, and fell in bright patches on the road beneath. The
countess spoke a little at first, but gradually relapsed into perfect
silence. The stillness and calm about seemed only the more striking from
the hollow tramp of the horses, as they moved along the even turf; the
air was mild and sweet, and loaded with that peculiar fragrance which
a wood exhales after nightfall; and all the influences of the time and
place were of that soothing, lulling kind that wraps the mind in a state
of dreamy reverie. But one thought dwelt within me: it was of her who
sat beside me, her head cast down, and her arms folded. She was unhappy;
some secret sorrow was preying upon that fair bosom, some eating care
corroding her very heart. A vague, shadowy suspicion shot through me
that her husband might have treated her cruelly and ill. But why sus